Home & people A portrait of a happy man

Press, 21 December 1977, Page 13

Home & people A portrait of a happy man

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R. T. BRITTENDEN

Tt is just as well Johnny Wood has f sense of humour. Anyone with 14 barometers in his house needs one. But winning the same sort of trophy 14 times at golf and bowls tournaments is not the only thing which has helped Johnny Wood see the lighter side of life. His cheerfulness and warm-heartedness have made him one of the bestknown personalities in the liquor industry. from which he will retire at Christmas, after an association of 23 years and a mileage of about half a million — “one of the biggest pub crawls of all time’’. Johnny Wood has enormous enthusiasm for anything he is doing, for any cause he espouses. He shares Will Roger’s view that he never met a man he didn't like — “You don’t have to talk to them, if you don’t like them.”

And he has never had an argument after nearly a quarter of a century travelling the country: at one time there were 584 hotels in the South Island. He knew them all, and every publican. His business career had nothing to do with liquor when it began. He was

Christchurch under Bst 71b team at Woolston Park. The referee was Sam Hollander, one of the bestknown officials and businessmen of his time.

Young Wood drew attention to himself by scoring 29 of his team's 32 points. So Hollander noticed him. And Hollander was looking for someone to learn the fur trade, to make the collars and cuffs for his cloth coats. “See me on Monday”, he said. Wood did. And Hollander paid Pattison Ede £5O to tea' h Wood as much as possible in six months. Wood then went back to Hollander. It was quite without significance that after three years Hollander’s company went into liquidation. Wood then went back to Pattison Ede as a cutter.

They must have been great days for him. He bec a m e head cutter, designer, and factory manager with a staff of 42 — at the age of 20 and a salary of £5 a week. He worked overtime every evening for about 10 months of the year, and noted with some satisfaction that after the first year his Christmas bonus was increased from £3 to £5.

Johnny Wood had other commitments. He went to the School of Art with a career in signwriting and window-dressing in mind. He dropped that because he was also going to night school. After the war, Pattison Ede sent him to Dunedin to take charge of the firm’s factory. He was

there seven years before going into business on his own account. It was a one-man band, and he worked for two years and a half before he saw an advertisement placed by McWilliams Wines. It was time, he felt, to make a change from dealing with women to dealing with men. He was McWilliams first South Island representative and he had six ■

years and a half on that job. Then Ballins took over the agency, and Wood worked for New Zealand Breweries for a little over a year, “more or less putting Bavarian beer on the market” after the ill-fated “Lucky” promotion. Thirteen years ago, Gilbeys asked him to join the firm as South Island manager.

When he started with McWilliams, he was travelling about 42,000 miles a year in a little Austin 40, many of the miles over shingle roads. But, slowely trading methods changed and in recent years he has been flying a lot more.

Soon after he began with Gilbeys he was asked to double up and take on a Leopard Breweries assignment. All the Leopard representatives were called to Napier, to discuss the prospects of a new trade in canned beer. The North Islanders were diffident; Johnny Wood was not. His advice was to cable America for the can tops — the rest of the can was to be made locally — and a first order of three million was placed. Johnny Wood has enjoyed his work. He enjoys jus. about everything. He has found some marked changes in drinking habits. His own were firmly defined. As a traveller, it had to be a small beer. But if selling a new product, it sometimes required him to try it with a prospective client. On a limited scale, he modestly observes. But he has seen the advent of the can, the flagon, the jug service. He has noted geographical variations in drinking. In the south of the South Island and on the West Coast, people drink more slowly than elsewhere, he says. There were big glasses on the West Coast and in Centra! Otago but there was not the heavy drinking found in the bigger urban areas.

“I don’t think we have enough small pubs”, he says. “In the cities there are big bars, big gatherings, and the shouting system is strong, so people drink quickly to keep up with their schools. We would be better off with small hotels, as they have in England.

“The New Zealander does not know anything, other than what he has. He likes to drink with someone, so he shouts. In

Britain, it is usual to pay for one’s own drink. If we had a bigger population it would be possible to go home, then walk to the nearest pub. Here we take a car, and that presents problems. “It is an unfortunate part of the drinking system that hotel staffs are trained to fill a glass as soon as it is empty. It

is persuading people to drink faster than some of them would like.”

In his business, he says, a fairly wide general knowledge and a flair for diplomacy were essentials. A sales representative had to visit a hotel and perhaps wait to talk to the proprietor. So he had to meet others. In Portobello, it might be three fishermen. At the next hotel, a farmer or a drainlayer. “You have to like people, which I do. And they have to like you,” he says. They did, according to even' evidence. His Christmas cards one year bore the merrasge: “It’s nice to be important, but it’s more important to be nice. That has been his credo.

Johnny Wood’s bubbling sense of fun gave him particular enjoyment on his West Coast visits as a sales representative. “Blokes would find out what hotel you were going to next, and get there ahead of you to have a free drink.

“I remember a chap in a black singlet — a driver of a big shingle truck. He was at Kanieri and I shouted him a drink, with the others. When I got to Ross he was at the bar, so he had another one. At my next call that day he was there again. “It was a hot day and there was a hotel on the way to the Fox. When I got there, 1 saw the shingle truck parked by the hotel, and there were five or six faces at the window, watching my arrival.

“I had them on a bit, taking my time. It was a bit dark inside the bar and when 1 stood at the door about 10 of them were there, lined up at the bar, with the proprietor polishing a glass — like a west" ern film, it seemed to me. No glass had anything in it.

“I started talking to the proprietor and I could see he was becoming steadily more agitated. I just kept talking of this and that and I could see how they were all beginning to look askance at the truck driver and the truck driver was looking dist i n c t 1 y uncomfortable. Hands kept going into pockets and coming out with nothing in them. “So I put them out of

their misery and said it was nice to meet them and would they have a drink with the company’s compliments. Ten glasses went forward with military precision and the proprietor nearly dropped his in the excitement. “But I couldn’t resist pulling the truck driver’s leg. “You were in too big a hurry to get here”, I

said to him. “You left an eight-ounce beer on the bar at the last pub.”

Johnny Wood recalls very vividly one of his very first calls on the West Coast. He introduced himself to the proprietor, who was with a couple of friends and Wood shouted them a drink. A moment later someone was at the door, ringing an enormous bell, and within 10 minutes there were 16 in the bar.

Johnny Wood has a deep and abiding affection for sport. H- played representative rugby as a schoolboy, as a wing three-quarters, and was vice-captain to Keith Mortlock. But his father was a devoted member of the Nomads soccer club

and persuaded him to play soccer. He joined Nomads: his ninth game was as a Canterbury third grade representative. He was a useful sprinter with the Sydenham Athletic Club and after soccer turned to golf. That was in 1936. His first game was at Richmond Hill, with a borrowed set of women’s clubs. He has

played at Richmond Hill ever since and is the senior playing member, with 41 years of gold

behind him. He is now on a handicap of 13. Johnny Wood is the only man in the licensed trade who has won its national titles at golf and bowls. His golf victory was at Taupo and he played the last hole in stockinged feet because his feet were sore. This was on the advice of the starter, Harry Blair, for many years a popular professional at Shirley. It must have been good advice, for Wood finished his round with a birdie. He was later the lead in a rink which won the Bacardi Trophy — the muchsought after major prize at the national bowls tournament for the licensed trade.

For the last eight years he has been Father Christ-

mas for the intellectually handicapped children of the Ferndale School in Merivale Lane, arriving in such varied conveyances as fire engines and horses and traps, a motor-cycle sidecar and a vintage car. He loves children, he loves people.

“I think the wealthy man is the one with a good wife, which gives you a good family,” he says. “It’s never a matter of money. If you have happiness and love, that is the most important thing. You can’t always sail on the crest of a wave. I’ve had my ups and downs but you have to take the tides as they come. Love and understanding, being kind and helpful are the most important things in life.”

In retirement, Johnny Wood is not going to be bored. He has too much to do — fishing and bowls, golf and painting, and a return to the fur trade, helping friends with their fur problems. There probably won’t be time to do anything with the 4000 cigarette cards (everything from cricketers to vintage cars) he has had since his youth. • He certainly won’t simply potter about tapping those 14 barometers.