BONDS FOR A SONG

Auckland Star, Volume LXXIII, Issue 119, 22 May 1942, Page 6

BONDS FOR A SONG

PETER DAWSON SELLS

HUGE CROWD GATHERS

To-day, in front of the Chief Post Office, Queen Street, Peter Dawson, world famous bass-baritone, sold Liberty Bonds for a song. They were i'l bonds, and the Women's War Service Auxiliary members and others who moved through the crowd equipped with them, extracted hard (or paper) cash in exchange—but it was Peter Dawson who did the selling.

It was to hear him that the crowd gathered, and when his fine, mellow voice came over the loud-speakers to resound from surrounding buildings, the crowd showed its appreciation in thunderous clapping that must have been felt, in the air eddies it sent up, even in the bombers which roared across the area just as he concluded.

How many bonds were sold as a result could not be ascertained completely early this afternoon—but the girls were doing their job enthusiastically and the crowd was there— and in the right mood to buy. Dense Crowd What a crowd! It began to gather shortly after midday, and by the time the military band arrived, escorted by several Bren carriers, the area in front of the Post Office was already crowded. People continued to gather until every foot of space within hearing distance was packed.

Not even a threatened rainstorm— which, fortunately, did not develop beyond a light spattering—moved the crowd. Umbrellas appeared like sudden sprouting mushrooms, but the crowd stayed, listened—and bought.

From all around as one stood in the crowd came the inquiry of the sellers . . . "Would you like to buy a bond?"

It had a quiet insistence, as the voice of the Mayor, Mr. J. A. C. Allum, had vibrant and eloquent, appeal, and they were concomitant to the presence and the voice of Peter Dawson, entertaining and exhorting the people to do their part in the financial aspect of the war effort.

Peter Dawson it was whom the crowd had come to hear. No singer who has visited this country has made a more popular appeal—and the years have not damaged his reputation as a singer.

When he appeared on the raised platform that already accommodated the band there was a burst of cheering, and—like so many submarine periscopes—mirrors were extracted from handbags and raised above the level of the heads that those who wielded them might catch glimpses of the singer.

In the life of the city to-day it was a bright interlude.