AN OPEN LETTER TO CENTRAL OTAGO

Otago Daily Times, Issue 27040, 26 March 1949, Page 9

AN OPEN LETTER TO CENTRAL OTAGO

Dear Central Otago,—l have just returned from a month’s tour throughout your delightful country. My first visit took place in 1926, and since then the lure of the high country has called me nearly every year. During these two decades I have seen many changes taking place, possibly more than you yourselves are aware of, because, after all, the onlooker sees more of the game. I have made many solid friends in your many communities, and I always count it the privilege of friendship to be able to criticise in a kindly manner. Therefore, whatever I say, please remember that one who loves Central Otago is '.he. critic.

Each year, more and more people flock to the Central, and yet, in most towns of the area there is a feeling' of resentment among many of the business community. The bakers dislike baking extra bread. They talk of orders not called for. and of bread being left on their shelves overnight, and of short staff, and of a variety of other reasons. An yet, Mr Baker, you do nothing about it except take a passive attitude towards these folk who are bringing money into your own town. The cake shops bake practically what they bake throughout the year, and the devil take the hindmost. So cakes are usually sold out by 10 or 11 o'clock. For the rest of the day. Miss Cake Shop Lady, do you meditate upon the curse of these invading hordes, or do you count up how much these same people have put into your till?

And now, Mr Butcher, have you dwelt on this thought, that you live in this town and the camper is here for only a week or so? You can have your legs of mutton and roasts of beef. The camper has to exist on small goods like sausages, pressed meat, brawn, and steak. He can’t buy that side of beef, unless you let him have the use of your range. But he can buy unlimited quantities of small goods and he will, if they are there to buy. That holiday-makers have money in their pockets is a worth while thought for all business men to sleep on. When I bring my holiday allowance into the Central, 1 don’t want to take the bulk of it back home. But that is what is happening every Christmas holiday, Mr Business Man. Not All Are Friendly I have the privilege of having many friends in Central Otago and that makes my sojourn amongst you good •>eople extremely pleasant. But others are not so fortunate, and I can assure vou they feel rather bitter about these 'mints I have just mentioned. I know :r. is so easy for you to say, “But they come back year after year, so they must be satisfied.” Many do not come back. The others, who do return, do so because the natural beauties and magnificent climate outweigh these petty irritations. If one hundred visitors came to your township next Christmas and found a genuine attempt to welcome them and to make their stay pleasant and trouble-free from food problems, then the following Cliristmas there would be three hundred visitors. Purely speculation, you say. Try it and see. I’d love to apologise.

There are exceptions. There are men and women throughout the Central who love their country passionately and their greatest desire is to make it the “Playground of New Zealand.” There are business men who see the possibilities of a great influx of money each season, and these same men are providing services that will stand comparison with anything that can be obtained in any town in this country of ours. And it is service to the community that will bring a real prosperity to the Central. In- one garage, I asked for 10 gallons of petrol. I got it. In another garage, I asked for two gallons. I got it plus air in the tyres, attention to the radiator. the windscreen cleaned, the bonnet polished, and a friendly hope that I would have a pleasant holiday. In one shop, I bought over ten shillings’ worth of fruit. The only word uttered by the assistant was “Ten and eight.” In another shop, I bought one stud, priced at a few pence. I was asked about my trip, where I was heading, and how long my was stay A few tips were-added for no extra charge. I ended up buying some extras that I saw on the counter to the total value of eight shillings. And it is no use saying to me that such a state of affairs is common to every place in New Zealand. I know it but I would like to see the first real effort to start in Central Otago—the first real effort to bring back those happier days when service to the customer was a matter of pride to the humblest junior in the smallest shop in the smallest township. I have talked with many of you on these very points, and you have fully endorsed what I have just said. Some of you have said. “What this place needs is competition.” Remember? Of course you do. Well, what are you doing about it? Don’t wait till some strange man from the city comps along and sets up real competition. I wouldn’t like to see that. I want to see that the business community of the Central consists of men and women who have given their j'ears to your unique country. Campers—and Campers

Each little town has its own peculiar appeal for the visitor. Lawrence possesses a quiet restfulness that restores jaded nerves; Rae’s Junction has an out-of-this-world air; Roxburgh offers us a beautiful climate and miles of

heavily-laden orchards; Alexandra pours out its lavish wealth of superb sunshine and clear air upon the newcomer; Cromwell is reminiscent of an old Western town in the States; and it is Arrowtown of which Denis Glover speaks— Gold in the hills, gold in the rocks. Gold in the river gravel, Gold as yellow as Chinamen In the bottom of the shovel. Then you have Lowburn and the dredge, whose 24-hour song will some dav be the theme of a fine poem by a "New Zealand poet; Queenstown, with its delightful gardens and friendly ducks: the ghost town of Cardrona and the fine old mine host of the inn; Wanaka, set by a lake of richest blue; Hawea. with that grand old nature-lover, Claude Capell, to extol its beauties to the skies. Maybe I forgot to mention Clyde, but there are so many places in your grand country where one may find peace and excitement that one must pass hurriedly by Ranfurly, Waipiafa. Hyde and Omakau and the rest. And you may reply that I don t know campers and the trouble that they cause. But I do know them. I know that there are campers who should never leave home. They are those who want home conditions away from home, and who simply do not want to put up with any inconvenience whatsoever. They are the ones who want city amenities in the most remote little spot. They are the ones who think that money talks to you folk of the Central. It doesn’t. The real worth of the man talks in much louder tones. But take away their camping equipment and their camping clothes and you will find that they are exactly the same. The mere addition of camping gear has not turned them into such unpleasant people. And somehow or other; the world has its fair quota of such types whether they come from the city or the country. But there’s the other type of camper who feels as you do about things, who has the same hopes and fears, who enjoys the same experience, and who, if living in your own town, would probably be a good friend of yours. He knows how you feel about _ fires being lit near dry grass. He is as keen as you to keep the place neat and tidy. He appreciates the fact that he is adding to your worries at a busy time. He is fully aware that for a boy to raid an orchard is a sign that he is a boy, for an adult to do the same makes him a thief And all campers who do raid the . Central orchards are thieves. I’m sorry that there is no softer word for them. So you see, my friends of Central Otago, that it is not very wise to assume that ever holiday-maker who comes near you next Christmas is one of the undesirable types. And if .his letter has helped towards a bettei understanding, then it has been well worth the trouble of writing it. As I said at the beginning, it is the privilege of friendship to be able to criticise gently, and this privilege has been exercised by your friend— Arthur Harrison.