MISS SIXTEEN

Otago Daily Times, Issue 23631, 15 October 1938, Page 7

MISS SIXTEEN

By E. B. Whitelaw

In these dark days of international stress and unrest, when the whole world seemed to be plunged into hopeless turmoil and disaster, which was averted only by the amazing diplomacy and unfailing courage of one man, it, perhaps, savours upon the ridiculous to turn to our own country and to find who is in the foreground of public opinion to-day —a ludicrous little figure surely— Miss Sixteen, our youngest taxpayer. Yet politicians arc arguing forcibly over her, newspapers bursting into headlines over her, and everyone is discussing her, for, in the words of our American cousins, at present she is Public Interest Number One. Many years ago she was known by that old-fashioned term “ the flapper ” and wore long plaits at that age, and serenely swung her satchel of books backwards and forwards to school; but, to-day, she is fullygrown up and a young lady of importance and part breadwinner of the average family. Employers clamour for her services, and she is quite confident in the fact that she cannot be “ sacked ’’ if the “ boss ” does not appreciate her efforts to the fullest extent, and if he does come to the office one day, in a particularly liverish mood, and she resigns, the fear of being without work does not harass her ; for there is always another job awaiting her favour. She begins in business life upon the lowest scale of wages allowed by the various awards, and as she is young, eager, and willing to learn, it is not long before she is capable of doing the work of a woman-far beyond her age and at twice her wage. It is easily understood then why her employer, hard put to it to readjust his business affairs to the higher rates of salaries he has to pay and the shorter hours his employees work, looks upon her as an unexpected blessing in disguise. Yes! she certainly is a popular figure of to-day—little Miss Sixteen of New Zealand! What,- then, are the reactions of this youngest taxpayer of ours to all this false notoriety, cheap publicity, and glaring limelight amidst wich she suddenly finds herself? I am glad to say that she has not altered very much in her ways from what her elder sisters were at that age, and I know many of them, working in shops, offices, factories, and at domestic duties. She is much more assured in her manner and confident in herself and has a better dress sense. She knows all about awards and arbitration courts, and no longer does she think of a vote as a vagut privilege to be attained at 21 along with the mythical right to the front-door key, but a definite power which she inherits as her right. She is a gallant little miss with her powder and her lipstick, and in quite a few cases, where she is able overcome parental disapproval or evade it, cultivates this “ new ” art of coloured finger nails which was modern in the time of the ancient Egyptians. Often she makes her own clothes, which “ movies ” and fashion magazines have taught her to wear to the best advantage. Her hair is well groomed, with usually a host of curls, for where Nature has been remiss in her gift towards her she overcomes this oversight by screwing her hair nightly into curlers, which give her the appearance of going to a torture chamber rather than to bed, for as yet her wage does not extend to the price of the more prohibitive “ permanent wave” which her sister enjoys On top of her head jauntily perches an absurd-looking hat which gives her a debonair appearance, for she is so fresh, so young, and so very attractive that no wonder our worthy Prime Minister admits at a public meeting that even he, in his daily walk, is not averse to meeting little Miss Sixteen going blithely along her daily path in life.

Perhaps, to know her best, this recent recruit to our ranks of taxpayers, is to visit her in her own room, for as yet she is rather shy and not given to expressing her vague, half-formed, innermost thoughts to the ridicule of her immediate family circle. The room is a conglomeration of all that is dear to a young girl’s heart and that is the despair of her tidy mother. Portraits of Miss Sixteen with her friends are scattered everywhere We see them in hiking shorts, swimming suits, and at picnics, on beaches, in the winter snows, always outdoors, and know at once why she is so suntanned and healthy-looking From the walls the stars of Hollywood gaze down upon us—Robert Taylor, Herbert Marshall, Bing Crosby, and a host of others: all with their camera-trained appeal add a friendly touch to the room; but even in these days when politics attain white heat throughout the Dominion I have yet to find a porrait of “ Sir Galahad ” Savage or “ Knight Errant ” Hamilton within the sacred precincts of Miss Sixteen’s room.

And what does this young lady really know of politics? Very little, I am afraid, for how much did any of us know of them at that age? She is rather wistful over the fact that politics and awards and suchlike have ended her secondary school career so soon, but she philosophically accepts the fact that if she stays on two years or so longer, as her sisters did, she will then be too old to get a job. At first she finds the longer hours of business and the monotony of her work very trying, and longs for the iov and freedom of her schooldays. Poor little Miss Sixteen! It is sad to think that because of the ruling of politicians she is deprived of two years of the play days of her life, for the honour of becoming a wageearner and a taxpayer From her father and her brothers she gains the impression that if they are on wages they seem quite to like politics: the higher wages and the Saturday mornings off appeal to them, although they do' sometimes grouch about labour unions and suchlike. If her father employs labour, he is not so satisfied and talks frequently of letting the Government take over the whole dashed concern and going on a wage himself. Certainly she is a little bewildered by it from a man’s viewpoint From her mother she gels a housewife’s viewpoint upon politics, and it is not a very encouraging one, for of all people perhaps that Labour has benefited the least is the housewife. True there are more wages coming into the house, but the cost of living has gone up so much that it is all paid out again just as quickly. The 40-hou: week does not appeal to her mother at all, for there is no 40-hour week for her, and it only means that father and the boys are under her feet all Saturday morning, when she is rushing to get her work done and a dinner cooked, for they have vet to learn how to spend their leisure hours profitably. She has grown rather tired of “ post mortems ” over Ranfurly Shield matches, and lately, although she has managed to get father out into the garden, she has always to be running

after him to help to find mislaid tools and to see if the cabbage plants have been planted straight. The boys help her spasmodically in the house,, but do not see why they should work, when all the other fellows take a holiday. Mother had thought that she would have Miss Sixteen home from school that morning to help her for some time yet. but out she went and got herself a job like all the rest of her friends, and there is not any hope of her getting a girl to help her in the house, for such is the domestic situation in the land at present. There may come a day in the far distant future when as mother has been told so often she and father will have 30s per week each to enjoy the comforts of old age together, but mother, when she ir hot and bustled over her work and very tired at the end of the day, pessimistically wonders if she will ever leach that age. She is also assured that she will have free medical attention and hospital service, but she knows that all that has really to come off the family’s wages and she is not at all impressed, for she has never had a doctor in her life except when the children were born, No, mother does not think much of politics or these new-fangled socialistic ideas. She is not at all encouraging to Miss Sixteen. And what of these kindly gentlemen in Parliament who are championing her cause so ardently? Miss Sixteen in the optimism of her youth rarely ever gives them a thought, and she is far more concerned whether Billy Jones or Sammy Brown will ring her up to take her to her favourite “ movie.” Within our own household at present we have a Miss Sixteen, who is perhaps typical of all our taxpayers of that age. She is in a job and contributes her share to the family exchequer. She knows all about awards, although they do not apply to the business where she earns her livelihood. She has a boss who in the eyes ol the Labour Government is a capitalist, for he, a young man, has had the initiative to fall upon an original idea of earning his living, and backed by his own small capital and a loan from a friend, has now worked up a business which gives congenial employment to many girls throughout the Dominion. He pays Miss Sixteen a wage above that which an award would claim as her just share, for he believes in repaying the work of his staff justly. To her he is not the fearful ogre that some would conjure up for her, and she does her work cheerfully and well without thought of complaint, for she knows that she receives every consideration in return. What, then, does this Miss Sixteen think of politics? Just the same as the others, I am afraid. Really, very little, for, like the others, too, she is much too young to bother her px'etty head about them. From a sense of filial duty she is quite willing to contribute towax'ds her parents’ support if there is ever any need for her to do so. and not because the Government dictates that she shall do so. She is not at all concerned about the money that is to keep her in her old age, for youth is always much too happy a stage ever to be concerned with such thoughts, and the spectre of “ old age ” is only for the middleaged. Family influence has never been used towax'ds Miss Sixteen’s outlook upon the political world, and her thoughts upon the subject are enlii'ely unbiased. The radio, however, has brought politics right into her home, and she no longer can ignore them, but it was not until Mr Savage addressed a public gathering

that she really heard of her own important pax't in the political machinery. She was writing at the table, when the Prime Minister began painting a vivid word-picture of her part in the socialistic life of New Zealand. Immediately, he caught her interest. Here, at least, she was in the fore-fx-ont of politics, and her attention was riveted upon his words. He was tracing the lives of all Miss Sixteens in this one of his imagination, but how badly he missed in his study of feminine psychology, for in his earnest portrayal he entirely forgot the fact that Miss Sixteen looks upon marriage in the terms of a vision in filmy white followed by a bevy of bridesmaids, and he, in the zeal of his discourse, forgot “to marry ” her. Almost immediately he presented her with a family of three childi'en, and as yet the joys of motherhood have not even stirred within the bosoms of his youngest taxpayers.

Miss Sixteen, though, was still listening to his words, and she was chewing her pencil meditatively as she followed hir words. After a while she leant forward raptly engrossed in his word picture, as his voice droned on describing this new child of the State in her entirety. I watched Miss Sixteen. Was she a new convert to Socialism? Was she willing to become this favoured protegee of the State, whose life would be patterned for her from the cradle to the grave? Would she sink individualism and initiative to become a mere cog in this new machine? Would she be content to sink all personal ambition and become State-directed? Was the glory of the pioneer blood which fought poverty, depression, ill-health and gambled against the fearful odds of a new life in a new country forever dead in her veins? Could the Labour Government change her ideas, refrom her mode of life, pattern her to its own kind or would she at

heart fundamentally remain the same? These questions raced through my thoughts as I watched her so engrossed in every word, and anxiously I awaited her verdict. As the word picture faded out over the radio she relaxed in her chair. “ What a lot of hoo-eeyl” Said Miss Sixteen, our new taxpayer.