ANOTHER INTERVIEW

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 77, Issue 83, 9 April 1934, Page 8

ANOTHER INTERVIEW

SHAW IN CHRISTCHURCH VIEWS ABOUT ANYTHING MODE FUN FOR PLAYWRIGF . [ Per Press Association. ] CHRISTCHURCH, April 8. Mr. George Bernard Shaw entertained half a dozen reporters and as many listeners and spectators at an impromptu levee in the lounge of the United Service Hotel for more than an hour after his arrival on Saturday afternoon. Mr. Shaw seemed to enjoy himself just as much as his audience. After his arrival he disappeared for an hour to rest, and then reappeared in the lounge. “Well, what do you waut me to talk about?” he asked as he approached the group of , reporters. “What is it to be to-day?” When the talk began many others came to join the party of listeners, and questions were fired at him from every direction at once. Someone asked him why he eamc to Christchurch. He threw back his head and laughed. “Christchurch claims to be the most intellectual city in New Zealand,” he said, “and I was most disappointed when the itinerary planned for me did not include it. However, the boat on Sunday night from Picton was suddenly changed to Saturday, so I decided to come to Christchurch. I am sorry I could not give you more notice, because of course you didn't have a chance to put up all the necessary triumphal arches and decorations.” An impressive voice from the audience, Dr. Thacker’s, asked: “Do you know, sir. that we have a museum here, and the largest moa skeleton in the world?” Mr. Shaw, looking surprised: “Well, no, I didn’t. I’m afraid I don’t know what a moa is.” Dr. Thacker: “Ir is the largest wingless bird in New Zealand, sir.” Mr. Shaw: ‘‘A wingless bird? But 1 don’t call a bird wingless unless it has wings. Wait a minute, though! It sounds rather like a politician to me. One of politicians who haven’t the slightest knowledge of polities.” Another questioner asked Mr. Shaw if he knew anything about spiritualism. “I know all about spiritualism,” Mr. Shaw replied. “I attended my first sequence at the age of about six. Why, the first planchette board in Ireland was used in my parents’ home in Dublin. The man who used to work it —it wrote well for him—afterwards went to Australia. Not voluntarily, though.” The talk turned to New Zealand scenery. “There’s one thing I have noticed about you New Zealanders,” said Mr. Shaw. ‘“Wherever I go people say to me that they must take me to see New Zealand’s last bit of original bush. I have driven through miles and miles of it since I have been here, and each bit seems to be just as much the last and the first as the one before. I must say, though, that it is unlike any bush I have ever seen before. The ferns and other native plants make it delightful, but I don’t like your stumped paddocks. They look like the old battlefields on the western front with three trunks all battered and smashed and burned by shells. The Government should compel the owners to take them out. No expense should be spared for the sake of appearances. ’ ’ A questioner asked what Mr. Shaw thought about vegetarianism. “Of course the difficulty is these sheep, ’ ’ Mr. Shaw replied. 11 If only they would be content to take tho wool off them and leave the meat it would be quite easy.” “But you can’t eat wool, sir,” remarked an aggrieved voice, and Mr. Shaw joined in the laughter. “Have you enjoyed the very strong New Zealand limelight into which you have been thrust?’’, he was asked. “Oh, I’m used to it,” Mr. Shaw replied. “I don’t mind it.” While he had been talking, one of the group had been making a pencil sketch of his head and shoulders, and when the artist handed it over to him, Mr. Shaw said: “Oh, well, I suppose I’m like that, but there was a time when artists could make me quite handsome. ’ ’ Talking of caricaturists, Mr. Shawtold a story against himself about Mr. Low', the New Zealand caricaturist now in London. “Low did a caricature of me one day,” he said, “and I thought it was nothing like me. I may say 1 told him so. A few days later I was at a reception at Lady Astor’s house, and on entering a room full of people I saw a figure, and at once exclaimed to myself, ‘ Now, there is chap who is exactly like Low’s study of me.’ I went towards the figure and found I was walking up to a huge mirror.” A questioner: “What do you think of New Zealand girls?” Mr. Shaw: “Oh, well, I’m too old to be a judge of that. I find them very good looking, indeed. Better looking than the average English or Continental girl. They are happy and cheerful, too. That seems to be a characteristic of you New Zealanders. Even you reporters, who, heaven knows, have not much reason to be happy, look cheerful enough and (this with a smilpj you all teem to be quite sober, too?”’