I COME A-FISHING

Evening Star, Issue 22596, 13 March 1937, Page 2

I COME A-FISHING

SIR HARRY LAUDER'S QUEST [Written by W.H.T.. for the ‘ Evening Star.’] Sir Harry Lauder, with his homely Scots voice and hia cheer germs, is hero again, and he “ comes a-lish-ing.” There is no vaudeville this time. Ho told the Australians he was not there to make money. He had more “ bawbees ’’ than he wanted. He is paying his niece £I.OOO a year as private secretary, and Sir Harry’s great ambition is to throw a fly to a wee bit trout and drop a few cheer germs here and there. The Australians were thunderstruck when the newspapers asserted that Sir Harry’s fee for a broadcast was about half his secretary’s yearly salary. How did this coincide with the great man’s statement that he was not there to make money? Although Australia is further advanced than New Zealand in the matter of high salaries, Sir Harry Lauder’s broadcasting fee rather took their breath away. This carries me back to nearly 30 years ago. The boat train was about to leave Liverpool street station, London, and the platform was alive with Sassengers, relatives, and friends, light opposite my carriage was Harry and Mrs Lauder in a circle of kilted clansmen.. Harry’s “ cobbers were giving them a real Scots send-off, for was he not about to cross the herring-pond on a six months’ engagement at the princely salary of £1 000 a week ? what would the Australians think of that for a fee. A man who can claim, a salary of such dimensions might well claim £SOO for a wee bit broadcast. While watching Harry from the boat train, I was surprised to find m the corridor of the train a young Dunedinite. The world is a small place after all. We had not met for 20 years, and both, with one accord, uttered the word 4 Dunedin. I My friend was delighted beyond measure at meeting a pal on the way. -ff. 18 mother had written from Dunedin pleading with him not to go to America—that lawless country of gangsters, gunmen, and kidnappers. At Liverpool we boarded the gigantic Lusitania and set out for New York. Another New Zealander from Southland —a friend of Harry Lauder’s—told us Harry was confined to His cabin tnrouga seasickness. This went on ror three days, and then Harry appeared on deck for a game of quoits. Cameras clicked on all sides, but Harry had a draw at his pipe and w.ent calmly on with the game. . . , „ , The night before our arrival at bandy Hook, a concert was organised on behalf of the seamen’s charities. Lord Northcliffe, the newspaper magnate, presided, and among tho performers was Miss Marion Terry, the famous actress, who gave a perfect recital of Longfellow’s little poem ‘ The Maid and the Weathercock,’ Miss Terry informed her audience that this was the first recitation she had ever given in public. Mr and Mrs Zancig mystified the audience with thought reading, and Harry Lauder sang and told stories till his audience rocked with laughter. Never before had he ventured into anything but comedy, but this night he cpntnbuted a serious number— a pathetic descriptive song called * Bantry Bay.’ With this item he hoped to capture New York. Mrs Lauder, who had a sweet voice, also took part in theprogramme. On arrival in New York Harbour next day, a launch, filled with skirling pipes and kilted Scotsmen, came out to greet the comedian, while at the pier a fourwheeled coach, drawn by four white horses, was in waiting to convey the artist to a music hall for his first performance under the contract. The Americans were “ Scotch ” for once, and meant to get their money’s worth out of a Scotsman. Glaring posters of Harry in kilts were on every hoarding, and orchestras in departmental stores were fiddling his new song * When I Get Back Again to Bonnio Scotland,’ When Harry sang this he proposed to wear the famous busby bonnet worn by Alexander Don, of the 93rd Highlanders, in “ the thin red line at Balaklava in ’54. Harry had brought this with him for the purpose. _ To a newspaper reporter Harry said ho had brought Mrs Lauder with him because she was afraid something would, happen to him if he was turned loose amongst tho bonnie lassies of America. Before we left the liner I asked a cabin mate about tho lawlessness of America. He was a Yorkshireman returning from a trip Home. Ho had spent a few years in America, and his advice was: “If you over have to shoot a man see that you kill him, or he may rise up in evidence against you, and no matter how big a ‘ crook ’ he may bo, the American courts will believe him before an unnaturalised stranger.” I told the Yorkshireman we were going tp risk it unarmed, and we did.

About 10 years ago, when Sir Harry was still in vaudeville, I met him in his dressing room behind the scenes at His Majesty’s, Auckland. He was then putting the finishing touches to his make-up—rouging the end of his nose with a light professional touch. Between the dabs Sir Harry talked, and I found him to be a most genial and likeable man. We made an apf ointment to meet next day. When called at his hotel Sir Harry refused point blank to allow me to hire a taxi. He said ho would go in a tram, and he was as stubborn as the proverbial mule about it. Ascending Upper Queen street, he wanted to alight at the first stop and climb the rest of the way on foot, but 1 insisted on going to the top and walking down to my office. The tram turned the corner and went a short distance into Karangahape road. Sir Harry looked out the window and said, “ I told you so!” He still maintained that it would have been better to get. out at the first stop and to do the rest of the way on foot. I took care to see that a taxi was waiting outside when Sir Harry returned to Ins hotel, and even then I had some difficulty in persuading hi m to make use of it. At the Wellington reception last week reference was made to the story of Sir Harry’s alleged meanness—that he hadgiven _ £IO,OOO to the Unknown Soldier’s wife. This charge of meanness is a gross libel on Sir Harry. In a business transaction I was sooii convinced that he was shrewd—but mean, never! Ho was the very soul of generosity.