WELCOME

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 152, 17 September 1927, Page 10

WELCOME

A bunch of Yank pugs arrived in Sydney. Among them was Charley Horn. A good fellow was Charley, and he was a comedian of sorts. He was also a sociable cuss, and at home in ’Frisco, he had been extremely popular. Now, w’e had rather overrated our importance, for all Australia was not gathered on the shore to greet us, nor was the city en fete over our arrival. Brusque Customs officials disposed of our luggage scrawling undecipherable hieroglyphics upon it. that might have meant that w r e had nothing worth assessing, for we -were not molested any further. Then we ran the gauntlet of jeering imps who did their damndest to convince us that Australia was only for Australians. Laden to the gun’ls, we climbed a flight of stairs, anxious to set foot again on solid ground. Here at last was a reception committee. Screaming, pleading, and urging, a swarm of cabbies descended upon ms. They bawled and squalled, as they grabbed at parcels and bags.

Tommy Burns knew his way about. He had been there before. He herded us into taxis, and we escaped them. The foiled cab-man enthusiastically farewelled us in a quaint jargon, which is known as “Billingsgate.’' Then there were receptions, Mayoral and Parliamentary, where we were compelled, by courtesy, to lyingly express a joy we did not feel. Perfidiously, we in turn, arose and said that we knew we were going to like Australia, and that we hoped that Australians would like us. Optimistic rot! Prospects were as cold as the future was dark. Burns told Lee Johnson, the little negro, what to say: 1 thank you for your hospitality and I hope that some time I can reciprocate. Lee said: Ah thanks you guys for yo’ hostility and Ah hopes to retaliate. Maybe that was what he meant. Burns went to the Stadium and left us to our own devices. Forlorn and friendless we wandered about the streets. People stared at us. We had nothing to do, no where to go. There is no place so lonely as a strange towm, especially in a strange country. Along came a tram marked “Zoo.” “A touch of Nature makes the whole world kin.” Soon we were on our way to see the buffalo, the grizzly bears, or whatever other unfortunate Americans might be exiled here. Cranes and monkeys

we passed quickly by. A worth American cougar snarled threateningly. We supposed that he had been there so long that he had become imbued with the spirit of the country. We came to a fenced enclosure where there was a freakish-looking creature; and I’ll say he was looking for trouble.

Charley Horn gazed with interest as the beast charged like a locomotive. There was a high and strong netting fence between them but as the furious animal brought up against the fence Charley shrank instinctively, cowering back. Foiled of its prey, the thing stamped in defiance, and snorted. Ashamed of his nervousness, Charley walked up to the sign on the fence and read, “Peruvian Vicuna.” Reassured of his safety. Charley strode up to the fence, facing the vicuna. Charley doubled his fists and thrusting his face against the wire, he threatened, jocularly: “Yuh big stiff! If you got a good thump on the nose, you'd be more polite to strangers.” By way of retort the vicuna stamped, and coughed, and lunging forward it spat a huge mouthful of green slime in Charley’s face, and all over his clothes.

Quick as a flash came Charley’s response: “I say, fellow's, Sydney may be a bit unsociable, but thank God, w r e didn’t go to South America!”