PARS ABOUT PEOPLE

Observer, Volume XL, Issue 25, 21 February 1920, Page 10

PARS ABOUT PEOPLE

QN Wednesday afternoon last a crowd of sports and trotting enthusiasts gathered on the Alexandra Park to witness a ceremony of "Turning the First Sod." The Auckland Trotting Club having decided to expend £30,000 on improving their trotting track, let a contract, and the contractors were on the job. The plough team, beautiful animals bedecked with ribbons, proudly arched their necks, and waited for the great occasion.

On the call of time, John Rowe, President of the Club named the circumstance of their being present, and "what for," threw off his lovely tail coat, turned, up his sleeves, and grabbed the plough, "gedapped ' the horses, and to the admiring audience proved himself an adept ploughman. Not only did he plough a straight furrow, but turned and completed his task, amidst great applause.

Mr. Sutherland, who had been toting a long paper parcel, here stepped forward, and presented his package to the President as a memento of the occasion. The parcel contained a silver trowel, but was merely a stop-gap present until a silver plough could be manufactured.

Flushed with his success, the President led his visitors across the Park to the stand, where, after very much photography of celebrities, all adjourned to the cool open under the stand, where the ever-smiling spectacled and curled darling Sinclair had made provision for a sweet and much-appreciated repast.

After grace by Johnny Rowe, chairman, and a history of the Club since its formation to the present day, the toast of "The King" having been honoured, the guests tackled food and drink at a fast trot, and finished breathing hard but hap-

The Chairman then rose, and urged the visitors to fill their glasses, which they did with the various liquids, including champagne to common beer, and drank to "Our Parliament." Johnny Rowe, before he drank, looked to where heaven is supposed to be, and prayed that all M.P.'s should take it keenly to heart that extra permits should be issued to Trotting Clubs in the North Island. But as a sport he would absolutely refuse to take a single extra permit if any other Club lost by it.

Sir Frederick Lang, bonnier than ever, smilingly acknowledged the toast, and in his dulcet tones strewed flowers in the tracks of trotting, especially Auckland Trotting.

By special request, Mr. Savage rose to reply as the representative of the three Labour M.P.'s present. His dark, appealing eyes sparkled, while his bird-like voice carried from end to end of the tables, singing of the gladness and freedom of sport, and destruction to long-faced gloom, and pledged himself and his colleagues to give every support to the requests of the Trotting Clubs and sport.

Bill Parry, his left hand supporter, twirling his champagne glass between his fingers, gave one wide-eyed glance of appreciation of the sentiment, and lapsed again into stolidity. His dome-shaped head, with the hair parted in the middle, no doubt carried deep thoughts of the * future.

Mr. Bartrum, the right-hand supporter, wrinkled up his comedian face, and nodded acquiescence, and saw visions of the coming Samoan jamboul in the depths of an adjacent champagne bottle.

The man who beat Sir Jimmy Carroll (Gisborne's Lysnar), then rose, and after enlightening the audience that he was "not" a sport, but had a brother in the game, shot out a bit of economics, labour, etc., etc., in his usual majestic style, and proving his writing better than his speaking.

"Viv." Potter finished the M.P. bunch, the light air playing with his love locks, while the stern blue eyes

shot out clear under shaggy brows, while from the wide, strong mouth came the promise that while sport was clean he was its champion. * « » Hughie Mackenzie then rose and took a hand in the proposals, and called on the guests to fill up and drink to "The Auckland Trotting Club," his sparkling eyes toning down the severity of a Nero nose and chin. Hughie is President of the Otahuhu Trotting Club, and a healthy rivalry exists between the two flourishing institutions. Johnny Rowe suitably replied. * * * Mr. Charley Schnauer then came forward and asked the brethren in the fourth degree to drink to sport, agreeing about Jack, that all "work and nu play" is deadly dull, and called upon Willie Ralph to respond.

Willie did, and with real oratory, extolled the virtue of sport as a sport, although our Coal King wears the appearance of a high-class musician more than a hardy athlete, and his dulcet tones blend with his artistic appearance.

Mick Foley, the very embodiment of athletics, with his stalwart frame and clean cut face, reminds one of his youthful exploits on the field of sport. He spoke up for sport with just a trace of the Irish brogue.

Vivian Potter, M.P., on behalf of cricket, disclaimed any association with racing, but said in all his games through life he would bowl straight, aim straight, and act straight.

Alec. Twiname, for football, in an apologetic voice, told the chairman and proposer he didn't go there to make a speech, but on behalf of f'ooty thanked them. His sharp clean visage subsided in silence thereafter. • » » Mossy Ballin, up from the South on swimming business, rose, uncurled his bugle-shaped lips, and gave the audience "just sport," for Mossy lives for the game and loves it. » « • Charley McKinney, who had been fidgetingVith his "tea cup" through the sport speeches, apologising to the chairman, enlightened the hosts' visitors on old sports and their doings. This ended a lengthy toast list. * « * Captain Caulton quietly approached Chairman John Rowe, and oh behalf of the committee and stewards, handed him a beautiful pair

of field glasses, so Johnny would be able to see further than his nose. John Roweis so very short-sighted when it comes to his own interests, it requires a very powerful glass to "hold his own."

George Tansley then rose, and throwing out his manly and extensive bosom, and opening his black oiiutters, called upon Secretary Charley Mark to accept, on behalf of the committee and stewards, a handsome gold pendant medal with the club's monogram in raised letters, and an inscription,eulogising Charles for his sterling devotion to the Club. Bashfully Charley Mark received the plush-cased trophy, and said he had but done his duty, wiped the perspiration from his unlimited brow, and again assumed his "business and nothing but business, boys," expression.

Gus Coates, clothed immaculately, contracted his brows, and assumed a

"I'd like to say a word or two on that" expression, then broke again into smiles as the chairman called the guests to fill their glasses. They did and drank to "The Press." "We can't do without it," said Johnny, and so we love it such a lot, although it doesn't always do the George Washington Act.

Joe Chadwick, of the "Sporting Review," old press sport, rose in response, and gave long stories of old-time trotting battles and experiences that lasted until the evening shadows were falling. "Bio," for the "Observer," and Jimmy Regan for the "Saturday Night."

Then Johnny Rowe called upon Archie Bruce, as the daddy of press sports, to respond for the "Herald."

Archie, in his old jerky style, shook his head, and thanking the A.T.C. for its kindness in inviting him there, that he had enjoyed the talk and tucker, but that not being an orator like the pressmen who had said quite enough to cover the toast, quietly subsided into memories of old trotting days.

As old Lord Ben Harris, Agricultural Massey had taken their departure, and after Frank Lawry, the oldest member of the Club had reminiscenced somebody at the chairman, all struck up the National Anthem, and a really pleasant afternoon had passed away,leaving happy groups talking as ancients only can in endearing tones of past sporting events and of each other.

Many Aucklanders will deeply regret the death of Mrs. Hamilton Hodges, a half-blood Afro-American lady, who with her husband, Hamilton Hodges, was well known in singing circles in Auckland for some years. Mrs. Hodges died in Toledo (U.S.A.).

Both came to New Zealand with the Fisk Jubilee Singers, all of whom were in varying degrees Afro-Ame-rican, and elected to stay in New Zealand. There also came to the colonies with the Fisk organisation, Mr. R. B. Williams, an Afro-Ameri-can, whose mother's recollection took her back to "slavery days." Mr. Williams became a barrister and solicitor, . married a Victorian white lady, and ultimately became Mayor of Onslow, in Wellington. He had, in fact, yearnings after Parliament, and is a fluent, polished speaker.

"Sport" writes: It was very curious to me to observe at a recent social gathering of sporting men that Vivian Potter, M.P.. was vis-a-vis at the table with Bill Parry, M.P. Their peaceful opposition at the table reminded me of their opposition that was not peaceful in the Waihi strike. This was the first time these doughty opponents had met at a social function since that strike, and they will, one presumes, fight on widely severed sides in Parliament. Both are aggressive men, and it will be interesting to watch them as opponents at least in ideas in the "Talk Shop."

M. Deschanel, the new French President, is presented to us by the ' cablecrammer" as "the best-dress-ed man in Paris." We are expected to arrive at a comprehensive understanding of the man from that. Clemenceau was the hardest-work-ing man in Paris. He did as much as any one living man to save France, but he goes down before the best-dressed man. Here is another compliment to the French tailors.

In other countries the most the tailor can boast is that the tailor makes the man 2 but in France he makes the Presidents. A returned Melbournian (says Melbourne "Punch"), who saw Mons. Deschanel in Paris, says he is as neat as a new pin, and remained so throughout the war. His immaculate appearance would have been considered offensive in an Englishman at such a time, when the nation was plunged in the turmoil, the dust, sweat, soot, mud, and blood of war; but even while patriots are sacrificing their lives the French do not expect their politicians to sacrifice appearances. 9 9 9 In the year 1852 there landed at Melbourne amongst the searchers for gold, a young Irishman from County Wexford, Mr. Job Earl,. who was then twenty years of age, and during his residence in Victoria was married. Some time later he came to New Zealand, and was attracted in turn to Gabriel's Gully, to the Coromandel, and to the Nelson goldfields.

Fifty years ago he visited South Canterbury, and bought land at Kakahu, near Geraldine, and, utilising the knowledge he had gained in his earlier days, he became a successful farmer. Mrs. Earl predeceased her husband by about three years, and within the past few days Mr. Earl has joined the great majority while in his eighty-ninth year. He has left three sons and eight daughters.

H.R.H. the Prince of Wales will go deerstalking while he is in New Zealand. Sport by Royalty has been the subject of mirth for cen* turies, but it is understood that the guides of professional deer stalkers will not ishoot the heads H.R>H. kills, and that if he claims a royal he will have done the execution himself.

Ex-Kaiser W. Hohenzolleru was the greatest shot (on paper) of all the earth's kings. He was quite remarkable as a trap-pigeon shot, the simple explanation being that the best pigeon shot in Germany was turned on, and being in hiding never let a bird get away when the royal one-armed marvel pulled trigger. British papers never jibed at the Kaiser's shooting, and apparently always believed in it. It was the German papers that laughed at Wilhelm.

"Fliegende Blatter," the German comic paper, on one occasion published a picture. In it the Kaiser was "got up to kill." He was surrounded by an army of keepers, beaters, servants, gun bearers, dogs, etc. A target, representing a deer, manipulated by two gigantic Prussians, was in the distance. One is represented as saying to the other, "Duck, my Fritz! His Imperial Majesty is about to fire!" to which Fritz replies, "Fear not Hans! It has been arranged that the gun of His Imperial Majesty contains blank cartridges. Laugh not, my friend, or you be shot, for 'lese majeste.' " © $ ' ® One of the celebrities of earlier Otago was Mr. James McAndrew, and no mention of the history of Lesser Scotland is ever the history of Mr."McAndrew, is mentioned too at the Otago University oelebrations. Chancellor Sir Robert Stout gave James the usual tribute, and Professor Thompson told a yarn about the McAndrew. In the old days a postman was required to travel round the North Taieri dis-

trict delivering letters, and he signalled his presence at the various houses by blowing a horn. A subsidence had taken place in the locality, and a man who had been drinking not too wisely but too well had fallen into the hole and gone to sleep. As the postman neared the hole he blew his horn. The sleeper awoke with a start. "It's the last trump," he said.' "I'll gang with James McAndrew." The awakened .sleeper evidently had no doubt that Mr. McAndrew would have a hearty welcome when he approached the portals guarded by St. Peter. 9 9 9 "Paddy Mac" writes from Napier: "It's seldom enough a valedictory feed is anything but a dismal endeavour to say as little in as many words as possible, but the farewell hooroo to Rev. Father Dowling, who's off to St. Bede's, Christchurch, was made anything but gloomy by Lawyer B. J. Dolan, who chairmaned the show." * * * He was in fine fettle. Said (inter alia) that Father Dowling had swatted law under the late Colonel Malone (although in his generous way the Dolan promoted Malone "general"), but Father Dowling found that he could never attain a place with the only lawyer on the calendar of saints, the patron saint of Brittany, of whom the hymn was sung:— Advocatus et non latro Res Miranda populo. In other words, "a lawyer who was not a rogue was one of the wonders of the world"—people made him, if not a saint, the chairman of such a function as this. * • * Tame Hibernians, wild Caledonians, and mere Sassenachs howled with mirth. This from the Dolan, too—hiven bless him! "The Church contained more sinners than saints. The only attribute he could claim to entitle him to preside at a church gathering was that he was a representative sinner." And it's few of 'em are so frank! * * • In the whole affair not a word about the "Pay, Pay, Hay!" but this tickled us from the Dolan: — "There was a time when it was imagined that a loud-voiced individual called a "Praste" walked round his congregation with a horsewhip charged for their sins from 6d. for a "damn" to £100 and more for a murder." The point I'd like to emphasise about this jvaledjictory is

that it was unlike nearly all New Zealand social functions, because it sparkled.- What about giving Dolan a job as professional travelling "valedictor?" 9 9 9 Judge George D. Alden, the American lecturer, had a fling at woman's clothes the other day, declaring that women of fcrty years ago would be unable to recognise their modern sisters. And if the Judge will excuse one — thank God for that! The modern woman is infinitely more sensibly dressed, than was her ancient sister. Imagine a woman of fifty years ago trying to crowd into a modern street car with her crinoline—about twelve feet circumference at the bottom. * * * Imagine your neat and healthily attired lady clerk sitting at a typewriter piled up on the "bustle" of less than fifty years ago. Fifty years ago women fainted all about the place. Why ? Because 15-inch waists were as common as the healthy custom of the bare neck and brisket is now. Women 50 years ago, dear Judge, got a strong person to handle the stay string, and wore collars to their "bodices" tight as wax and up to their ears. i * * * Before that they wore half a hundredweight of false hair "a poudre," to which they spiked a hat like half an acre of flower garden (see the famous picture of Her Grace the Duchess of Devonshire). Fifty years ago, Judge, women fainted with tight shoes, and the "decadent" modern woman in the smart blouse and a 28in. waist couldn't be induced to wear the three feet sugar loaf hats that were in vogue. * * * Fifty years ago men choked themselves with immense cravats up to the eyes, and their eyes stuck out like doorknobs with a wealth of greasy, pomaterned hair overhanging. Fifty years ago men's clothes were so tight that a man had to peel his arms and legs to get out of his coat and pants, and he strap.ped his trousers so tight over Wellington boots he dare not have stooped. * • « The women of to-day and the men of to-day are much more sensibly dressed than were men and women before 1870. In 1870, and prior to that the people were shockingly stuffy. They are not stuffy now, jedge, old dear!