MASCOTS

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 508, 10 November 1928, Page 26

MASCOTS

A NOTE ON OFFICE | ]' “CHARMS,” WITH PASS- | ING REFERENCE TO A MASCOT THAT SPELT BIG MONEY.

AN UNHAPPY LION FFICE mascots are so . prevalent in England that they threaten to become a craze, writes I'/it/W! Guy Innes in the SydLSBiMSJt ney “Sun.” There is, for instance, the cheeky little damsel cut out of a coloured supplement and pasted on the telephone box. She is attired in little more than a blush and a big bow; but even the office boy has became so blase that he fails to notice her. The theory of her existence is that she is supposed to secure prompt attention when one rings up the switchboard, no I matter how grumpy may be the telephone attendant. Gazekas and Such Strictly speaking, the Gazeka has gone out of fashion; but he (or she) has left a numerous progeny which decorate otherwise staid business offices in the way of mascots. There is the funny little, chap composed of velvet fuzz on a wire framework, who clings to the neck of a bullock in a model Cingalese cart; there is a black cat made of wool, with a red tie and straw whiskers, who occupies an eligible central position on the top of the filing cabinet; and there is the brass merino lamb which one sometimes finds in wool-buyers’ offices. The cheeriest mascot of which I have had any experience was a stone lion with an iron bar through his stomach which prevented him lying down comfortably. He had taken up temporary duty as a mascot outside the office of a high dignitary of the Australian Imperial Force in the Horseferry Road. He had been secured the night before, at the expense of a perfectly good Bradbury by way of a tip to a scared taxi-driver, who assisted in stealing him from the portico of a blameless residence in one of the West End squares. His reign was short for he was, to employ the military phrase, “returned to store” as soon as his presence was detected. A Genuine Charm A real office mascot was the lump of greyish white rock which Mr. Albert Ellis, of New Zealand, picked up from the floor of the Pacific Phosphate Company’s Sydney office, where it was holding the door open. This was nearly twenty-seven years ago. Out of sheer curiosity he had the rock analysed, and it turned out to he almost pure phosphate. It had come from Ocean Island, and its discovery led to a voyage thither. This resulted in finding the wealth of natural fertiliser that has since become so valuable to Australian, New Zealand and Japanese farmers. How valuable it was may be gauged from the fact that in 1919, after the adjacent island of Nauru, with its 200,000,000 tons of phosphate, had become a mandated territory, the three Governments of Britain, Australia and New Zealand entered into an agreement whereby they bought for £3,500,000 the Pacific Phosphate Company’s right to the deposits on both islands. Reverting to military mascots, one that will live in the memories at least of the officers of the Australian Imperial Force was a cylindrical lump of some mysterious mineral, presumably lead, which used to reside on the desk of the D.A.A.G. at the A.I.F. Headquarters, in Horseferry Road, during the war. Ostensibly, it was intended for use as a paperweight, but it was heavy enough to have held down most of the documents in the British Stationery Office since Magna Charta went to press. Indeed, one regimental “lad” observed that it was sufficiently weighty to hold down the dossiers on which the lists of officers’ crimes wore recorded. It was the actual property of a cheery Australian “brass hat” who became so bored with the number of salutes that it was incumbent upon him to return that his prabtice was to borrow a private’s cap and an overcoat in order that this humble .garb might act as a camouflage to his rank. He then saved the wear and tear of the arm and hand destined by the King’s Regulations to the returning of military compliments. When Horseferry Road was dismantled, the lump of lead remained behind in splendid isolation. It was too heavy to move away.