A PHILOSOPHER CHOOSES WEEK IN PAPARUA GAOL.

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXVI, Issue 20455, 7 November 1934, Page 8

A PHILOSOPHER CHOOSES WEEK IN PAPARUA GAOL .

To-day’s Special Article

Relief Worker Enjoyed the Experience: Nourishing Meals and No Worries.

A philosopher walked into the “Star” office the other day—a man who claimed that he had philosophy thrust upon him by a Magistrate. Fined £2 for not paying his unemployment levy, and himself an unemployed man, he elected to “ take it out ” and spend nearly a week in gaol at Paparua. “ And believe me,” he said, “if you take a philosophical view, gaol is not so bad. You have to work hard, but no one is going to knock you about, and if they use some hard words, what of it? The hard words should roll off like water off a duck’s back. I had a good place to sleep, good nourishing meals and no worries.”

r PIITS MAN, whose name need not be brought into cold print, told a reporter a tale that will give the ordinary citizen a real insight into the slump conditions as they apply in extreme cases, and he assured the interviewer that his case was far from isolated. “ The worst thing they could have done to me,” he said, “ was to decide that the £2 should be paid by an order for so much a week on wages I might earn in the future. These people don’t seem to realise that a single relief worker can’t pay levies and can’t pay fines. Sixpence means nothing to you. but to us it means about two meals. “ I have been in gaol before. I used to be a * boozer,’ though I have not touched a drop for eleven years. (His healthy, cheerful appearance bore out that statement.) I did a fortnight years ago for drunkenness. I was still drunk when I was put in the dock, and the Magistrate did not like that. I suppose gaol was all right then, but I was wanting a drink so badly for that fortnight that I did not see the good points of the place. On “ the Island.” “ However, I did a year on the drunks’ island up north, and that got the booze clean out of me. It was great on the island. Not much to do, and plenty of fishing and bathing for those men who behaved well and made their wicket good with the fishermen. T have not had a drink since. “ While I was at the island there was a young doctor there. He used to tell me about facial operations he had done at the war. Once he was called over to the mainland to do an operation the other doctors would not take on. It was a great success, and he was allowed to stay out altogether. “ I did pretty well at my trade as a carpenter when the good years were here. I had a ‘ flivver,’ a good gun, and a couple of bonny spaniel pups. Then the slump put me on the relief, and since then I have been busy making myself into a philosopher. Believe me, you need to be one. Being in' the Army was a help, as I had experience of eating what I was given and doing what I was told. “ We know now that man is not born to freedom and luxury. The main things are a place to sleep, enough clothes to keep you warm, and enough to eat. Never mind what it is, as long as the food is clean and nourishing. An old man I know says that a place to sleep is the only thing necessary. He says he can always scrounge his meals. Five Days from Choice. “ When I was fined. I saw that if I had to have it docked off my earnings it would

mean not enough to eat. and that T might have to go cold. I asked how long I would be in gaol to work the £2 off. They told me five days, and I thought that was better, so in I went.

“ Now I will tell you something. At Paparua they don't want people like me. They want criminals. Gaol was never meant for ordinary men who by force of circumstances cannot pay a £2 fine. The wage cuts, which kept the money from circulating,* are putting into gaol people who were never meant to be there. “ All the same, I found the men in gaol a decent enough lot to get on with. I worked as hard as I could shifting stone and rock. The work was hard, but they never drove me beyond my strength. The food was not pretty, but it was nourishing. The only thing was that the tea was rotten. I drink a lot of tea now that T am off the booze. told them they should do better, as the Christchurch Police Station gave you good, strong tea when you were in the cells. Hard Labour Preferred. “ Hard labour men get the best of it. Thev have to work hard while they are on the iob. but when they come off it there is nothing to do except have their meal. The floors are so clean you could eat off them. Evervthing is spotless. Those who do not get hard labour have to scrub the floors and clean the cells and that sort of thing. Hard labour for me, every time. T had my five days and quite enjoyed them. The work was not too hard." and there were no worries. No wondering where the next meal was coming from. To a married man the shame of being in prison might be a big thing. I am single, and when I told my brothers the whole affair they said I was quite right to go to gaol.” Relief Workers’ Lives. 11 is philosophy, evidently, did not need to be as deep in prison as it did in the ordinary everyday life of an unemployed man. This man told pathetic tales of relief workers’ lives. Of the freemasonry that enabled them to get along somehow, carrying on by barter among themselves when lack of money made any purchase impossible. Of the swapping of a cycle lamp for a coat, of a pound of tea for an old blanket. “ I’ll carry on somehow,” he said with a smile as he departed. “ There are hundreds like me. Thank God I’m not married. All I want is a roof and a meal every now and again. " But,” tie concluded, “ when ladies who know nothing about it write of the horrors of prison, take it with a grain of salt. Gaol’s not so bad.”