PAGEANTRY BEGINS IN THE BACK ROOM

New Zealand Listener, Volume 15, Issue 366, 28 June 1946, Page 28

PAGEANTRY BEGINS IN THE BACK ROOM

OW the new Governor-Gen-eral, Lieutenant Genera! Sir Bernard Freyberg, V.C.. arrived in Wellington on June 17, and how he was received on the wharf, at the Town Hall, and at Parliament House, is a story that will have been told by all the daily papers long before this issue of The Listener reaches its readers. There is another story, the story behind all that precise formality and perfect timing, that gives a more human picture of these occasions. The Listener was given a "listening brief" to attend the conferences in Wellington at which every minute detail of that busy morning was worked out in advance, with every allowance that could be made for what might happen and what might not happen, alternative plans for wet and fine weather, and all sorts of minute interlocking points of procedure to be settled quickly by representatives of 15 or 16 different concerns. Two of the conferences we watched and listened to were held on Pipitea Wharf, on the spot where his Excellency landed; one was held in a room in the old Government Buildings in Wellington. There were representatives. of the’ three fighting Services, the Harbour Board, the Wellington City Council, Post and Telegraph Transport Section, the New Zealand Shipping Company, the Police, the R.S.A. (Wellington Branch and Dominion Executive), the Public Works Department, Government House, the City Traffic Department, the Tramways, the Clerk of the Executive Council, and the Department of Internal Affairs. There was no such thing, at these con"ferences, as "Mr. Chairman. .. ." We found that out in the first two minutes, and it was true to the end, even when chairs and a table were provided for the final check-up conference. But that is not to say there was no one in charge, to co-ordinate all the little points of detail, to shepherd the band of people around on the wharf and at the war memorial, or to be a sort of point of refer-

ence for the dozens of minor problems that can only be decided in the end by someone’s instinct for a decision between two alternatives. There always is someone to do all this when these State functions have to be arranged. This is the Under-Secretary for Internal Affairs; and any account of how such an intricate piece of organising and timing is worked out from such chaotic initial detail must necessarily be an account of his methods. The first act in the whole affair was the receipt by the Department of Internal Affairs of word that Sir Bernard Freyberg had embarked on the Ruahine, and the second was the preparation of an invitation list-about 700 names. From there on, occasional reference to the recorded detail of previous occasions of the same kind provided some sort of guide; photographs in old newspapers proved so valuable that it was decided to encourage photographers this time to obtain a complete record of each stage. Representative Citizens The list of 700 people to whom invitations for the ceremony at Parliament House were sent includes representatives of the Government, Members of Parliament, Foreign Ministers, High Commissioners, Judges, the Clergy, Consuls, Government departmental heads, the Forces, Magistrates, local bodies boards, federations, associations and_ societies, commercial and industrial and political organisations, the R.S.A.-in short "representative citizens." Next came the preparation of an invitation card, and a speculative allocation of seating based on someone’s estimate of how many would actually be able to come, the printing, and the

posting, which had to be put off until the precise day and time for the ceremony was known. ‘Two seating plans had to be done by Internal Affairs, one for the steps in front of Parliament House, for fine weather, and one for the Legislative Council Chamber for wet weather. On the actual morning, it was still someone’s responsibility to decide whether the day was fine or not-there was no doubt, as it happened, about June 17, which was one of Wellington’s best. Internal Affairs prides itself on its luck with the weather. In the last eleven years, it has only had to take one state outdoor function indoors, and even then, it could have been held outside, though the ground itself was wet. That was VJ Day. Wharf-shed Conference But the informal conferences were our own first introduction to all this preparatory work. The first one we went to, being actually the second, began on Pipitea wharf, at the point likely to be used for disembarkation. First it had to be settled where the gangway would come down. Shipping company and Harbour Board men had to name which door could be used irrespective of which way the ship would berth, bow south or stern south. Harbour Board men had to undertake to have all the cargo cleared out of the shed in time. The shed is 750 feet long and 110 feet wide-one of the biggest clear floor spaces in the Dominion. Army men had to agree where to have their telephones to be able to signal the battery to begin the Royal Salute as soon as Sir Bernard set’ foot on New Zealand. Harbour Board men had to see where (Continued on next page)

(continued from previous page) the dais would be needed in the shed for the Board’s welcome and get it fitted up in time (it was made from timber that can be used again for other purposes, and covered with green canvas. Carpets and chairs were hired). "Five Minutes for the Guns While cranes rumbled backwards and forward above us, we all crowded round to hear the voice of whoever might be speaking at. the moment. © Possibly it would be Mr. Heenan himself or the Government. Reception Officer, C. A. Furlong. If they were: not talking, then someone was’ probably talking to them. Where would the guard stand? ‘Where would the band be placed? How many minutes does a salute of 19 guns take to fire? (The~ answer is five.) Where would the cats be parked during the short ceremony in the shed? How would the Administrator (Sir Michael Myers) drive away in order to be at Government House to receive Sir Bernard and Lady Freyberg, without giving an impression that the ceremony was over. How would the Prime Minister’s and Mayor’s cars be parked so as to let them get away quickly, after the Governor-General-Designate, but in time to be at the Town Hall to meet him there-the

Prime Minister at the edge of the footpath, the Mayor inside the door of the Town Hall? How many minutes would each part of the wharf-ceremony occupy? These were the sort of questions that had to be settled, either by, reference to the facts or the circumstances, or by reference as often as not to the judgment of Mr. Heenan, and Mr. Furlong who are as familiar with these occasions as a Vicar is with weddings. In fact weddings did come to mind at one point. Up on the dais, the question rose, on which side would be who? "Here," said Mr. Heenan, pushing the Commissioner of Police alongside another police officer "You're getting married, see? And you're the bride. And you come across this way, .. ." The same sort of things had to be decided for the Ceremony at the War Memorial, with cars coming on to the kerb on the wrong side; for the introduction of the Mayor and Mayoress at the Town Hall (more practice at coming in on the wrong side, determining how far out from the kerb the car should be, and so on); and then for the longest ceremony, the Swearing-in on the steps of Parliament House. One fresh touch was introduced into the Swearing-in ceremony. The proclamation of the Oath of Office was read out to the public (and radio listeners) immediately after it had been signed by Sir Bernard. Previously, it has been

. 7 ' signed, and issued as a Gazette Extraordinary the same day. Throughout all the planning, there was close co-operation between Internal Affairs and Government House. Mr. D. E. Fouhy, the Permanent Official Secretary at Government House, and Major the Hon. G. N. C. Wigram, the Gov-ernor-General’s Military Secretary (who came to New Zealand a few weeks in advance to attend to the preliminaries) were at the conferences, and many times appeal had to be made to them for definite decision, on behalf of the Governor-General-Designate. The aim was at all times to study the convenience of Sir Bernard and Lady Freyberg and so make the whole series of ceremonies go smoothly, without any embarrassing pauses. Everything was planned at first on the assumption that the Ruahine would come in on Saturday morning, and a closely detailed programme was cycloStyled for official use. When the ship was delayed one day a new one had to be made out for Monday (a GovernorGeneral cannot be sworn in on a Sunday). Plenty to Laugh At The last conference of "all-concerned" was held in a room in Government buildings. Even when the meeting was held at a table, there was still no "Mr. Chairman." We thought it was an ex-

emplary display of co-operation without formal discipline. We remember chiefly one or two odd points about these talks -first, that no one seemed to use abbreviations (apart from Christian names in addressing each other); when you have to keep referring to "the Governor-General-Designate" about every third sentence, you may be excused for getting your tongues twisted now and again. Yet everyone kept firmly to that title in all the discussions on arrangements affecting what happened before Sir Bernard committed his first official act as Governor-General (his signing of. the Oath of Allegiance and the Oath of Office). And second, though there was a feeling that a common sense of humour was ready to come to the rescue if any tangles did lead to difficulty in discussion, there was actually very little relaxation of the stern purposeful mood that was ‘getting the job done. There was plenty to laugh at — for instance, the three or four different pronunciations, in varying dialect accents, of dais; the case of the Commissioner of Police being told that he was a bride; the Under-Secretary of Internal Affairs shouting across a busy street corner, "I’m a motor-car now-I’m coming round this way." But we ourselves kept strictly within the rights of our "listening brief," and took note that there are occasions’ in human dealings when it’s not actually. wrong to laugh, but just wastes time.