William john (bill) (1938 - 1962)

1951 - on the brink of becoming a teenager!!!  Wow!!!  What can we possibly cram into the next ten years?

After Cubs I went on to Boy Scouts.  I recall for a long time being confused when I passed my Astronomers Badge – I had always thought that because we lived at the tip of Africa, looking at the sea was facing south.  Upon trying to study the Southern Cross I had to have an atlas produced to prove that our house actually faced west!  Since that experience I have always had a pretty keen sense of direction.  We went on fantastic camps to Elgin and Piketberg (in those days Piquetberg!) – swiping fruit and swimming in the farm dams.   I was made a prefect in my last year at junior school – Standard 6 - 1951.

(Ed: I could not guess, at that early stage, that I was seemingly “blessed” with something, possibly inherent in the Leo star-sign, looking like qualities of leadership.)

Through the springtimes in several successive years we were entertained by the regular visit of a mother whale that gave birth in “Barley Bay” which we could see so clearly from our big bay window.  She and her calf would stay around for several weeks before heading back out to sea and then south.

(Ed: To my embarrassment – I learned in only early 2020 that the correct spelling apparently is: “Balie” as in “Balie Baai” )

We caught crayfish (actually Rock-lobster or locally “kreef“) in several “spots”, one in particular being below the Camps Bay Police Station, which we cooked by boiling in seawater in a 5 gallon paraffin tin covered by an old sack and then sold door-to-door for pocket money.   In those days they were hardly considered a delicacy and prices ranged roughly from 6d to 2/6d each – cooked and delivered!!  Enough to buy an illicit pack of 10 cigarettes and get one into the Saturday matinee at the “flicks”.

Mom bought an upright piano and I was despatched to Doreen Rumbelow for music lessons.   I was probably never very good on the classical side so concentrated more on syncopation.  The lessons probably lasted only two years.

Dad then “retired” - whatever that meant - I would never know the full story! 

The Studebaker car, the “Yellow Peril”, was written-off by Dad,  on a Friday night near the Blinkwater dam on upper Camps Bay Drive, after what must have been a particularly heavy session at the Junior Civil Service club, where he was a member.  I went with my Mom to retrieve him – fortunately, he  was not badly hurt, but very embarrassed - from the local Police Station.   

In modern parlance, I guess you could say, we entered a period of negative cash flow!  Dad had (in retrospect) unwisely invested funds in Uncle Alf’s tie business (Trigwear) which failed and he thus, apparently, lost a “bundle”.  Mom had to go back to work and, financially,  things became very, very tough.  Dad managed to secure a pretty lowly job with Pepsi Cola and I remember when they introduced their Canada Dry range of soft drinks.

Somehow we managed to acquire a second-hand Czechoslovakian “Skoda” – in which my Mom was to give me driving lessons.  Interestingly, this car had a synchromesh gearbox which was pretty new technology for private vehicles and saved one having to double-declutch when changing down.   Mom joined Eskom in the accounts department where she worked with Joy Littlejohn (her cousin Sonny’s wife) and Mary Carroll who was, much later, to marry Uncle George.  

Will any of us children ever forget Mom’s “addiction“ to “Lay-By”?!  (a system where a  store  would  secure an article for purchase  by  taking  it off  the shelf  and  into  storage  once you  had  paid  a  deposit  -  it  was  yours to take  home  once  fully  paid  off  by  an instalment  plan).  ......And it must be noted that although Mom may have been “vertically challenged” she was a tiger - or rather, a very svelte tigress!

My Dad used to take me with him to Trigwear from where I walked, mainly down Upper Long Street to school which was behind the St Georges Cathedral in Wale Street.  Whilst at high school I recall seeing the first jet aircraft to fly over the city and also attending the Van Riebeeck Tercentenary Festival - commemorating 300 years 1652 to 1952 – my  most vivid recollections there being my first sight of television and seeing John Cobb’s land speed record car - the “Bluebird” - from America.

It was routine that all boys attending St Georges are confirmed. Upon enquiring, I was told that I had to attend instruction lessons in the “crypt”. “What/where is this ‘crypt’?” I politely asked a prefect. To be ragged, I was warned about the “Cat”.   “What cat?” I meekly, nervously enquired. “The decrepit cat crept into the crypt, crapped and crept out again!” was the response. All said and done, I attended the classes in the crypt of the Cathedral and was confirmed in 1952 - so starting a brief “religious“ interlude.  I was head server at St Peters Church in Camps Bay and for a few years attended church regularly, sometimes three times each Sunday!

Through Dennis “Ricky“ Walker, who was Secretary of the Boy Scouts Association, I became involved in the Scout Show of 1953 which was such a success in Cape Town that we toured South Africa the next year - this was certainly a highlight of my life.  We appeared on stage mostly in City Halls, starting in Kimberley then on to Bloemfontein, Johannesburg, Pretoria, Durban, East London and Port Elizabeth.  In Pretoria we stayed overnight in the ballroom at the Arcadia Hotel – this was arranged through Mom and Dad’s friends Johan and Earna Stierlin who were the owners.

I was so lucky to see so much and learn so much about South Africa.  After the tour, my Mom agreed that I could start smoking legitimately – having been snitched on by my sister who “innocently” had asked why my fingers had turned yellow!

I passed a number of badges at Scouts, narrowly missing becoming a Queens Scout and rose to the rank of “patrol leader” of the Cobra Patrol.  So involved was I, that when there was an exceptional snowfall on the Matroosberg mountains and Dad organised to take us all up to play in the snow, I pulled out because of some commitment involving the passing of some badge – it could have been cooking! So I missed out on what was a super family day according to all the photos.

(Ed. It was to be more than 30 years before I physically came in contact with actual snow. My colleague and friend Peter Baker and I were in London on business, had been invited to the Oriental Club for dinner – very posh – and when we came out, almost at midnight, there had been a snowfall. I fashioned a snowball and hit him on the back of the head. After a short exchange we proceeded very sedately to the underground station to return to our hotel.)

Camping and hiking were favourite pastimes and included climbing Table Mountain. One thoroughly nice guy from this era, a good Scout, was Jan van der Spuy. 

(Ed: I single him out from many contemporaries mainly because we never would have been able to predict that his daughter, Sue, more than forty years later, was to marry my wife’s nephew, Brendon Cowell.)

Following the death of King George VI in February 1952,  a vivid memory from 1953 was, impressively from the colour movies, the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II - this co-inciding with the conquering of Everest by Edmund Hilary and Sherpa Tensing.

(Ed: At the time of writing, reference was made to “the present queen”, however,  Queen Elizabeth II, the UK's longest-serving monarch, died at Balmoral on Thursday 8  September 2022, aged 96, after reigning for 70 years. She is succeeded by her son, now King Charles III.)

A big influence on my life at this time too was the “Teenagers Club” started by Molly and Arthur Bell (who lived in front of us – actually on Victoria Road) and held in the Bowling Club Clubhouse (once also my school classroom) – here we learnt to dance and generally interact with other youngsters – and were basically kept amused and “off the streets” on Saturday evenings!  We had great fun learning to “square dance” and even went on to do a few demonstrations. 

Arthur was a wonderful craftsman and actually built a caravan out of wood in which, towed by his 1938 Chevrolet, their family toured Rhodesia in ±1948 visiting the Victoria Falls and Wankie (Hwange) Game Park.  The Bells lived next door to the Booths.  Charlie Booth had a gentleman’s outfitters in St Georges Street and was at one time Mayor of Cape Town. 

(Ed: His one daughter, Edna, married Sam Whaley who was Speaker of the House in the Rhodesian Parliament in Ian Smith’s time and, much later of course, my frequent golfing companion on Saturday mornings at Royal Harare Golf Club.)

It was probably in my second-last year of school that I started wearing spectacles. Very few boys from Camps Bay actually went to St Georges Grammar School, so I had very few local “mates” – one who would become my life-long school friend, however, from SGGS was David Black.   With the senior school located in the city, I did not participate in extra-mural activities which were held at “Bloemendal” where the boarding facility and junior school were located, because of the cost of train and bus fares.

Time was also a consideration, particularly in wintertime.  I caught a bus home from school each day – this left Fletcher and Cartwright’s corner in Adderley Street at 13h45, which was something of a problem as school finished at exactly the same time.  However, with some judicious packing of books before the final bell and running like Hell up Wale Street when it finally did ring, I more often than not caught it at the first stop outside Ackermans store between Long and Loop streets.   This particular bus was very important as it was the “Houghton Road“ bus! This was a recent innovation in that the bus, when it got to Camps Bay, proceeded up Camps Bay Drive and then down Houghton Road to the Bakoven terminus – my bus stop was right outside our nextdoor neighbour so it saved a long walk home. 

People were intrigued that the council would permit a double-decker bus to navigate this route. Although the busfare was 9d we were able to buy a “clipcard” from Stuttafords department store which covered 30 journeys (I think!) representing quite a savings. If you were really smart, you would watch when the bus conductor clipped your card and see if the little piece of card fell to the deck – you could then very, very carefully pick that up and, using the end of a pencil, squeeze it back into the hole – meaning that you could probably get a free trip next time! 

Circa 1953 - my then “girlfriend” was Jeanette Loydell who went to school at the Convent in Sea Point and she caught the same bus I was on going home each day – a very sweet and innocent girl - as was the relationship!

(Ed: Some 50 years later I discovered that she had married a school chum – Anthony ‘Pip’ Whitaker.  They  subsequently divorced and  he  emigrated to  Australia.)

With Mom working, it was up to the children to assist with household chores after doing homework.  Most afternoons Glynn and I prepared vegetables for our evening meal and did other household chores with little co-operation from our brother Bobby – this was to be the start of more than a little friction and often led to some fairly serious fighting.  I think it was probably around this time I learnt what terrible tempers we had (in addition to the Dent stubbornness!) and had to make a conscious effort to control mine in the face of my brother.  I think this also led to me developing my sense of humour, which I probably used as something of a shield.

Something that had a lasting effect on me involved our beloved Dobermann-cross-Rhodesian Ridgeback called Piet or affectionately “Loafer”.   He was a brilliant pet – chased the delivery boys on their bikes – particularly Reuben from the chemist!  Time ultimately ran out on him and he got to the point where he was just lying on a blanket, and couldn’t get up etc.  With my folks both working, it was left to me to hand him over to the vets to take him away and for him to be “put down”.  Fortunately he was succeeded eventually by our wonderful little Cairn Terrier: “Hondjie” (Afrikaans - translation “little  dog”); or if you couldn’t pronounce that properly, he was more often than not just called “Winkie”.

My grandparents home “Montana”  underwent major alterations around this time. On some afternoons I spent time playing ‘Canasta’ with Grannie Barends who by now had been confined to a wheelchair suffering horribly with chronic rheumatoid arthritis.  Canasta was new and very popular – Grannie was unable to hold the cards with her terribly swollen knuckles but a piece of wood with a slot in it solved the problem.  She passed away shortly after this, but I seem sure my grandparents celebrated their golden wedding anniversary.   

(The photo of Arthur and Pat in their lounge at Montana is appended for more than just provenance!  The plate on the wall between my Gran and the elephant, is Royal Doulton.  After Arthur passed away, it found it’s way to Edna who then bequeathed it to her favourite godson!  It has graced our various lounges for decades now.)

In the 1954 Christmas holidays at the ripe old age of 16, I got my first paying job.  This was for about three weeks at Woolworths at their Plein Street store where I was employed on the counter selling Christmas decorations. I don’t remember how much I was paid but it certainly brought in some welcome pocket money! They had a great Staff canteen where we got tea/coffee free of charge morning and afternoon and you could get a pretty decent lunch at a very good price – no doubt subsidised.

I passed my drivers licence within a day or two of my 17th birthday and so, for about 4 months, used to drive Mom to and from work, parking the Skoda at Dad’s office, which, by that time, was at Stuttaford’s in Bree Street.  Also in my last year of senior school in 1955, I somehow matriculated, even  after “bunking” the history exam – I was marked  on  that  particular paper with an “a” (for absent) but jokingly later claimed that I had earned an “A” – much to the disappointment of my parents who, let’s face it, had battled financially to send me to a good school! (St Georges Grammar School Trivia: 1955 was the second time that a formal Matric Dance was held by the school. The first was in 1944.)

Girlfriend of the day was Rosemary Timothy – the “romantic” side of our relationship was essentially limited to walking hand-in-hand after Sunday evening church with a goodnight peck under the lamplight before her father boomed for her to come inside!  She was later to marry Dougie Hedges a well-known local lad.  I can only think that in my last year of school something of a rebellious streak emerged within me which never, thank God, amounted to very much.  And then it was all over – a Matric dance wearing a suit of my Dad’s – and “Cheers!“ to all my mates, teachers and the school!

By the time I left school too I had basically (and in retrospect, sadly) outgrown Scouts.  My very fancy campfire blanket I passed on to my  younger cousin Peter. With the school’s Mowbray premises being so far away, I had started playing soccer for the Camps Bay Club – nothing startling and I was never as good as my brother – but it did keep me fit and socially involved.

But what about the mid-fifties!?!  Rock and Roll, Elvis Presley, Bill Haley and all the rest.  What an impact they were all to have immediately and for always!  Blue denim jeans, moccasin shoes, different haircuts and, of course, the music!  We were all “real cool” and learnt to “bop”, “jive” and “rock”.  Dad’s wake up call on a Sunday morning was a good old blast of Little Richard – to his utter horror!

Another, I suppose, part of growing up, related to the church. Having been a regular, I got to know several of the clergy – they would visit to preside over services or give sermons and so on.  Services were often followed by “tea” in the rectory. One particular individual (no names - no packdrill) invited me to join him for a meal one Saturday evening at the Grand Hotel. I was initially surprised that he was not wearing his “dog-collar” but it made sense later when he put his hand on my knee.   I very quickly told him I had to get home fairly early as I had a Karate competition the next day.   He got the message, but “That was me and the C of E.”  This was not my only such encounter – I was walking near the Rotunda hotel one afternoon when a “person” in a flashy Triumph sportscar pulled up and asked if I would like to “go for a ride” with him?  Perhaps it was his pathetic effeminate voice that gave the game away – OR maybe it was his ridiculous leopardskin jacket!

With finances seriously stretched in the early 50s, and my parents not being in a position to send me to university – I had thought of doing electrical engineering – I was at a bit of a loss knowing what employment to take up.  Jobs were still not easy to come by post-WW2.

Initially I tried for a position at the Standard Bank – no vacancies - but my application to Barclays Bank DCO (Dominion, Colonial and Overseas - or debits, credits and overdrafts) was successful.  I started in Adderley Street, the main branch (where my uncle Willy was Sub-accountant in charge of savings accounts at the time), on 3 January 1956 wearing a hand-me-down suit of my father’s.  My first month’s salary was £27.3s.4d of which I handed over £15 to my Mom for board and lodging.  As soon as I could afford it, I purchased my very own, very smart, charcoal grey suit.  After a few months I transferred to the Buitengracht Street branch for a couple of years where I met Malcolm Holland and, through him, Malcolm “Digger” Gilbert – an itinerant Aussie who had stopped off in Cape Town on his way home from Europe -  both were to play quite a big part in my future life.

One memorable job was as ledger keeper: I sat on a high stool at a large sloping desk - almost Dickensian - to manually post entries into a huge bound ledger using black and red ink dip-pens – long before the days of decimal currency and ballpoint pens!  Casting three columns of figures (pounds, shilling and pence) was good mental arithmetic as no adding machines were available to junior clerks nor had calculators been invented – only the lady clerk responsible for customer statements had an electric adding-type machine.  I then transferred back to Adderley Street and worked for a year or so up to mid 1959 in the Securities Department.

(Ed: A close colleague here was Peter Dreyer whose older brother, John, I would work with some 20 years later at Standard Finance in Salisbury/Harare.)

I played soccer for the  bank and we were based at Hartleyvale ground.  From the appended photograph two names come to mind.  Goalkeeper Jimmy Waring married Mike Frylinck’s sister, who, co-incidentally, worked with my Mom at Eskom.

(Ed:  We met  the  two of  them  in Helderberg Village at the Broekhuysen’s house some 55 years later.   Also,  Wally Kelly I  met again in Helderberg Village  at the Farrell’s house some 60 years later.)

In the mid to late 50s a US aircraft carrier the “Midway” docked in Cape Town and we queued for ages for the chance to go aboard.  This was a fantastic experience in itself, the ship was gigantic and we were able to sit in the fighter planes and so on but these occasions have their humorous touches: the story that evolved was that a ladies underwear manufacturer had brought out a new product for the “Coloured” market called the “Midway Panty” with the slogan: “One Yank and They’re off!”

On a more serious note, there was a polio scare and we had to go to a church hall in Sea Point (St James I seem to think) and queue on several occasions for polio vaccine.  All seemed a bit melodramatic and a waste of time until we received the shock news that my cousin Graham had been struck down!

An interest that developed was motor racing.  This started with the Camps Bay hill climb, which was a speed trial event over a measured distance along the top section of Camps Bay Drive (where the trams used to run) well away from the houses.  In particular I recall Wally Frewen who had several racing cars including a pink Studebaker of Indianapolis origin.  Racing was held at Gunners Circle and then moved to the Killarney track.  A small group of young MG enthusiasts including Dave van Wyk, Ivan Brasler and Donald Philp raced under the banner of the “Undercoat Specials“ - undercoat because they could simply not afford to have their crudely panel-beaten MG specials properly spray-painted.

(Ed: I made the re-acquaintance of Donald Philp whilst playing bowls at Vlottenburg Bowling Club early in 2004 – he also resided in Helderberg Village.)

I recall watching a race at Gunners Circle when Rhodesian Jimmy de Villiers crashed into a lamppost right in front of us.  He usually drove an ERA but on this occasion was driving a “D”-type Jaguar which he had just bought from Lord Louth in Cape Town on the latter’s return by ship from Australia to England.  Whilst we watched him being cut out of the badly smashed car I was not to know that some 10 years later his youngest daughter, Dawn, would become our son, Grant’s Godmother.

We all learned to play “snooker” at the Rotunda Hotel which had had a new wing built on.  A Castle Lager cost 1/3d and a Lion Special 10d.  Around this time a gallon of petrol cost 1/10d.  One night at the Rotunda, things got a little out of hand.  Somehow I found myself at the end of a fire hose upstairs near the lounge, some idiot turned it on (!?) and I liberally sprayed the entire area – patrons and all!  Paul Hoffmeyer, the manager, had no hesitation in slapping a three-month ban on me – after phoning my parents!

By this time we had graduated from the protected, family environment of Camps Bay beach to Clifton – mainly 3rd Beach.  Like many young guys round the world, we were for ever indebted to that great French designer/inventor,  Louis  Reard,  who in the wake of the cloth shortages occasioned by WW2, launched his new cut-down version of the ladies bathing costume with the name-tag “bikini”!

It was on 3rd Beach that on one occasion we met Johnnie Ray – the singer of “Cry” fame  - who had been staying at the Clifton Hotel - quite a wimp as I recall.  Around the same time, Tommy Steele appeared at the Weizman Hall in Sea Point and I was fortunate to have been included in a small number who were invited to a party in his honour in the flats opposite 29 Camps Bay Drive.

One afternoon after work Dave Black and I went for a run along the road past Bakoven to Oudekraal.  This was keeping fit for the soccer season for me.  On getting back to “Morland”, Dave left and I suddenly collapsed and had to be taken to hospital where they removed my appendix!  After feigning great pain for a few days longer than normal, the Doctor had me discharged after I had been discovered kissing a rather delectable blonde, green-eyed Irish nurse in the sluice room!

Around this time the Skoda “expired” – probably due  to  a  lack of spares – and we acquired a 1937 Chevy Coupe complete with “Dickie-seat” – this was  purchased from a Jockey pal of Wally’s at a cost of £35.  I sweated to sand it down for respraying and in time it went from a dull grey to a fairly bright blue.  At one time this car, for no apparent reason, slipped it’s handbrake and shot down the treacherously steep “Morland” driveway, somehow changed direction as it hit the curb on the other side of the road - which stopped it ending up in the Bell’s backyard - then headed off until, miraculously, it ended up undamaged nose-first in a builder’s pile of stone chips three doors down the road.  Tired of second-hand car hassles, the Chev was traded in for a brand new tomato-red Lloyd – a 600cc two-stroke tiny little German contraption that evolved out of the Borgward factory  - some said akin to a lawnmower but to us it was closer to a Ferrari!

On my first annual leave from the Bank, I accompanied my Grandfather (“Oupa”) on a visit to his diamond workings up the West Coast.  I was allowed to drive his new Nash.  The first night we spent at a small hotel in Porterville where he met up with an old crony – we had supper of “something” on toast – I was horrified to find out next day that I had eaten sheep’s brains!  

We left Bitterfontein for Koekenaap and then followed sand tracks until we reached the coast letting air out of the tyres for traction on the way.  The sea was so clear that one could easily see crayfish on the seafloor from the rocks.  The local “strandlopers” (literal translation “beach walkers”) were happy to part with small diamonds for a loaf of bread but Oupa had warned me absolutely to desist from any bartering.  I had already had experience with the IDB branch of the police because one of my jobs at the Bank had been to collect insured parcels of diamonds from the Kimberley area, have them examined at police headquarters prior to them being despatched abroad for sale.  Our last port of call was Lamberts Bay – it would be over 40 years before I revisited the town again.

Around 1957 I contracted hepatitis and was put off work – so ending my blood donor career!  My bout must have been fairly mild as I used to cycle to the docks – where the V & A Waterfront restaurants presently overlook the Alfred Basin – and where Louw and Halvorsen operated their boat-building business.  My mate Brian Rightford - who I’d met through Malcolm Holland - was an apprentice fitter and turner there at the time.  When a tunny boat was completed and ready for trial, he used to signal me and I was allowed to go along on the trial runs out into Table Bay.

(Ed: Brian and his wife had us and Mal Holland and his wife to a braai at their new Fish Hoek home in 2003.)

In 1957 I recall standing looking into the night sky to see a far distant flashing ‘dot’ slowly traversing the heavens.  The Russians had launched their ‘Sputnik’ - the world’s first unmanned satellite.

Alf and Edna’s Silver Wedding Anniversary celebration was held at the Blue Peter hotel in Blaauwberg Strand and I was one of the two youngsters present.  The other was Alf’s niece, Louise, the daughter of his brother Phillip.  She was something of a “looker“ having recently been crowned “Miss Bellville”.  I recall the evening as quite a splendid occasion with much dancing. Following this party I did meet up with her on a few occasions but getting to Belville was just too far.

On my second spell of leave from the Bank, my Dad was able to organise for me to travel on one of his pantechnicons.  In Johannesburg I stayed with the Andersons – who live just around the corner from where I was born - before going across to Springs where I stayed with the Ross-Munro’s, (old friends of Mom and Dad)  and  their two daughters: Starr and Dell  (pictured earlier). The journeys there and back were great fun – in particular evening meals which were “braais” with excellent meat bought from the crew’s various butcher contacts along the route and it was interesting generally chatting with them round the fire.

I gave my folks another minor panic-attack when I brought home a 1926 Singer Le Mans which a schoolmate, Terry Kearon, was trying to offload from another acquaintance.  This vehicle was an open-air (convertible would be an overstatement) two-seater racing car basically with a vicious crash box for gears.  Thank heavens I saw some sense!

Around this time we had a visit from Harry Hambleton (Gordon’s father-in-law) on a visit from Tonga complete with bright floral Hawaii-type shirts – all that was missing was the grass-skirt!  Somehow, he and I ended up in the city one day doing something of a pub-crawl – I recall a confrontation with the maître’d at the Del Monico (a favourite watering hole of my paternal grandfather’s 20/30 years previously) who tried to insist that we should put on ties before entering the establishment. At well over 6 foot - Pal, you just didn’t argue with Harry!

Pursuing my theatre interests that had started with the Scout Shows, I joined the Camps Bay Operatic and Dramatic Society (CODS) along with Dave Black and appeared in “Pink Champagne” (the English version of Strauss’ “Die Fledermaus”) and the pantomime of “Ali Baba”.   “Pink Champagne” was staged at the Camps Bay Civic Centre, which is no more, but then was located between the Rotunda Hotel and the service station.  CODS was founded in 1957 principally by Cecily Langston and eventually in 1967 took up residence in the old “Pavilion” which was renamed “The Little Theatre” and lasted until that was burnt to the ground some years later.

I even took lessons, with  an  Italian lady who  had  a  studio  in  Long  Street,  to improve my ability as a tenor, notwithstanding that I did not take any leading roles but featured only in the chorus of the productions.  After that I appeared in “Victoria and her Hussar” at the Labia Theatre in the Gardens – the male lead being Basil Schlom who I was to meet again 30 years later in business in Bulawayo.  Also in the show was another young Jewish lad, Harris Perloff, who had just returned from doing his national service in the Israeli Airforce Parachute Regiment – I doubt we had any sense that the Israeli turmoil would be still ongoing 50+ years later.

I recall in one act I was required to play a Japanese and we received special tuition so that we could do our own make-up – especially for the slanted eyes.  It felt strange being a blonde Jap!  Following the auditions, I was asked to produce my “portfolio” so that they could select a picture to be included in the programme,  When I told them I had no such thing, I was despatched immediately to the local Stellenova photographic  studio.  

After this, I assisted with the Eoan Group production of ‘Rose Marie’ and finally, attended a few rehearsals for ‘The Merry Widow’ under the strict musical directorship of Joseph Manca – all at the Cape Town City Hall.  A girl with a brilliant soprano voice with whom I was acquainted, Leonie Weston, auditioned for, and I think, played the lead.  

Unfortunately I left before the production opened to the public as my residence permit for Rhodesia came through.

Socially we lived pretty hectic lives: I was for a while a member of Hamilton’s Rugby Club (social only – although I did play three games at Lock) and Saturday nights were often for ‘Razzles’ or pub crawls which ended with Dave Black holding Brian Rightford’s false teeth whilst he ‘deposited’ the remnants of several beers, coffee plus a hamburger (purchased at the Doll’s House in Sea Point- our last place of call) in some hedge or other!

I “went out” briefly with a vivacious, popular girl called Denise Strydom. The family lived in Green Point and their Dad was a traffic cop. There were three sisters: Yvonne, Denise and Heather – their Mom was quite daunting. Every boy that came round was called “creature” but in a strident Afrikaans accent, this sounded more like: “Kreecher”!

I vividly recall attending a hypnotist show at the Rotunda Hotel where I was “put under” by the famous Max Collie.  One of my “tasks” involved standing on a table at the rear of the hall and singing - to the audience of nearly 1100 people - the (then)  current hit “Mr Sandman”.  This must have been something because for weeks after, I was, very much to my surprise, quite often greeted by strangers as “Mr Sandman”.

Gordon’s marriage to Anne fell to pieces and he was having a difficult time trying to cope with two small children. He met up with and finally married Julie (their meeting is a story on it’s own!). To say that they enjoyed a few “pots” is something of an understatement and I vividly recall visiting them one evening with my Mom, which ended with Julie swinging on the chandelier in their Rondebosch lounge.

Meanwhile, “Digger” Gilbert had been regaling us with his tales of working in Papua New Guinea and his exploits in England and Europe, which started us thinking about going abroad.   First to the USA – no good/no green card - then Canada, but we could not afford the deposit  of  ±£35 on top of the boat ticket.  Then in late 1958, a circular went round the Bank advertising opportunities for young/single male clerks to go to Southern Rhodesia, which they intimated was on the brink of a boom, for a period of not less than a year.

Three of us were to apply: Malcolm Holland, Digger and myself.  My decision was not made lightly.   I had turned 20,  and I had started thinking about broadening my horizons; there was tension at home mainly because Bob’s rebellious streak continued unabated and I believed my presence aggravated this – he was constantly having me thrust in his face as an example - and our relationship was very fragile.  I was also allowed to use the family car - as the eldest I claimed priority - much to his frustration.

All in all, it was time for me to fly the nest and my application went in to the Bank! Accepted!  Passport applications submitted.  Malcolm and Digger’s residence permits arrived and they left in February.  Mine had gone astray but eventually pitched up after a few months and I was instructed to proceed immediately to book my ticket and go.  

The Bank would not allow me to delay any further and I left by train with some family resentment all round.  My 21st birthday was only six odd weeks away, we had just celebrated Mom’s birthday, Glynn was unhappy and Bob refused to come to the station to say goodbye!  It was very evident that my Dad did not approve!   

I never worked out if my Mom was livid or  disappointed or underneath it all understood what I was up to – but she did insist I go out and purchase a brand-new raincoat and cap – which I wore to the station (looking pretty sharp) but never wore again – the fantastic good weather in Rhodesia not requiring such clothing!

The four of us had lunch at the station restaurant and we were later joined by a goodly collection of my friends including my then current girlfriend, June (with whom I had been “going steady” for quite some time), and her brother Edmund, to bid me farewell.  Also to see me off was Evan Philip with whom I had become good friends.  I had helped him totally rebuild a MG TC from chassis up – we made a real effort and got it started two days before my departure which was an exciting little side issue.  My train left Cape Town for Salisbury at 13h30 - the date was 23 June 1959.