The AUNT DAISY story

New Zealand Listener, Volume 37, Issue 944, 13 September 1957, Page 12

The AUNT DAISY story

(7) Onward & Upward With The Brakes Off

N° welcoming red carpets unrolled for Aunt Daisy on her first American tour. She came, she saw, she went home again. Roosevelt was pumping millions of dollars into public works to revive the slumped economy. But the money turned over once, and came to a standstill. When Aunt Daisy broadcast -as she did in each town she visitedshe won words of praise but no offers of cash. It was as well that living was cheap. The proceeds from her first recipe book had paid Aunt Daisy’s fare, but left her only £38 for expenses. She made the money last six weeks. In California then the daily tariff for a comfortable hotel room was one dollar fifty cents, the equivalent of 7/6. Meals could be had in the hotel dining room, or at an adjoining café, which was cheaper. Usually Aunt Daisy chose the latter, this reflecting more on the state of her finances than the fare offered by the hotels. For example, grilled brook trout meuniére, rasher of bacon, potatoes and peas cost 80 cents. Included in this sum (4/-) was the diner’s choice from five or six appetisers, four or five soups, and sixteen desserts, besides tea or coffee (iced or hot), milk, buttermilk, cocoa, chocolate or beer. "The self-service cafeterias were even cheaper," says Aunt Daisy, "and very super. You took your polished tray and damask napkin and your silver and chose food from stainless-steel dishes of mince, stews and various vegetables, all kept hot in steam tables. Or you ordered @ grill from the waitress. I heard a lady in front of me order two rashers

of bacon, a lightly fried egg and some brown toast. The waitress called to the kitchen, "I'wo strips, one fry easy, and a stack of wheat.’" Then as later, Aunt Daisy found Americans anxious to learn. There was a need. Returning to her hotel one evening, feeling forlorn and alone, she was greeted by the hostess, a generous Irishborn girl. "You’re English, aren’t you?" asked the girl kindly. ; "Yes," said Aunt Daisy, "but from New Zealand." "Why!" exclaimed the girl heartily, "T’ve got a cousin in Noo Zealand." "You have!" Aunt Daisy was delighted. "What part does she live?" "Brisbane," said the girl. * * * HEN her money ran out, Aunt Daisy took the little ship Makura from San Francisco for home. She landed back in New Zealand with only £4 in her purse, but rich in new stories to tell her listeners. Though she had rejected a Parliamentary career, Aunt Daisy could not entirely avoid the swirl of political passions in the thirties. It was the decade. in which Robert Semple, Minister of Works, prematurely described the ambitious Hitler as a "mad dog"-and was forced, under protest, to apologise. Among the less world-shaking conflicts, in Auckland, Aunt Daisy remem-

bers a meeting to protest against the fact that some Yugoslav orchardists were prevented from giving their windfall fruit to the poor. Likewise, unsold milk was being poured down drains. At the centre, of the indignant public protests was usually to be found Uncle Scrim, of the Friendly Road Station 1ZB. Today the outcome of this protest looks like screaming farce. Tempers ran high on the eve of the 1935 General Election, but Scrim as usual was to broadcast one of his Man in the Street sessions. Someone-it has never been clearly stated who-feared the broadcast might affect his party’s fortunes. So, on the night of November 24, 1935, the transmission from 1ZB was jammed. In the hullaballoo which followed, someone unearthed a transmitter likely to have caused the jamming. It was located in the Remuera workshops of the Post and Telegraph Department. There was an embarrassed spate of explanations from various political personages, and an immediate lifting of the iron curtain which had _ temporarily clanged down across the Friendly Road. Soon after the election, a new Government nationalised 1ZB. The ground rules for commercial broadcasting were changed, and the polite "by courtesy" form of sponsorship abolished. Radio was to advertise products, as it does today, and charge accordingly. With a mass audience already listening to her, Aunt Daisy could add the title of radio’s foremost saleswoman to the laurels

already won as radio’s first lady. She began advertising in her Morning Session on Friday, October 30, 1936. * % Eo SHE was thrilled with the change. She had been wanting for ever so long to tell listeners about a lot of useful things. Here at last was the chance. She could actually name the products, and be paid for it to boot. The first advertisement almost popped from her in the excited relief from long restraint. "How lovely it is,’ Aunt Daisy bubbled, "to be able to mention at last the thing I’ve been trying to tell you about for so long. It’s Clever Mary! That’s what I use for cleaning. It doesn’t hurt your hands, you see?" And so she went on, bursting with news and enthusiasm. Her sales talk was irresistible. One of the studio staff, John Stannage, walked up and down clapping his hands with delight. "Listen to Aunt Daisy!" he invited all and sundry. "Isn’t she marvellous?" Success smelled sweet. Aunt Daisy is blithe to this day about her early triumphs. "One day when I was busy on the phone," she says, "I felt something being pushed into my hand. Mr Phillip Bushell himself was there, from Sydney, and he was so pleased, and he pushed into my hand this half-pound packet of ‘tea." . At first she broadcast two sessions daily, morning and afternoon. The morning programme opened with her theme tune Daisy Bell, and the afternoon one with a hymn called Consecration. "It was beautiful," she says. "People used not to go out in the afternoon so they could hear that recording." There were some slight difficulties. "I had one brand of tea in the morning," she says, "and another in the afternoon. But I got over that-well-commonsense,. Tastes differ. And I never do say anything is best. Nothing is better or best except the things that God made, like the sun and the moon and the sea and the sky." No such commonsense compromise was possible when Aunt Daisy was asked to advertise a patent medicine. This turned out to be an old acquaintance, the weed which was said to be good for asthma and rheumatism, called by the Maoris Kumarahou, The Friendly Road had doled out sackfuls of it. Now someone was boiling the leaves and selling the liquor at 2/6 a bottle. Daisy was shocked by the price, but she did as she was told and advertised itonce. "Then I got a letter," she says. "It was from an elderly lady who said her husband was a pensioner and could barely afford two and sixpence. But he was crippled with rheumatism, and she’d buy him a bottle if I really thought it was good." aus Daisy knew the medicine was kumarahou, and that the raw material cost nothing. She went to see Beaumont Sheil, the advertising manager. He (continued on page 14) ot

The Aunt Daisy Story

(continued from page 12) agreed with her that it was a crying shame to advertise, Together. they went to see Scrim, who was in charge. "Look, I can’t d is,’ declared Aunt Daisy. "I just can’t do it." Scrimgeour considered for a minute. "All right, Daisy,’ he said finally. "I wouldn’t do it myself.". Beaumont . Sheil consolidated the gain. "We'll make that a rule," he said quickly. "Aunt Daisy is a law unto herself. She won’t put over anything she doesn’t believe in." "How wise and far-sighted Beau Sheil was,’ says Aunt Daisy. "Later, when I was in America, they marvelled. They’d say, ‘Do you mean to say that in Noo Zealand you’ve got an advertising manager who’s let it be known that you don’t advertise anything unless you thoroughly approve it? What an advertising marvel! What’s his name?’ And I'd tell them, Beau Sheil." * bos * O this day, Aunt Daisy tries out every possible product herself, or has it tested by a specialist who understands it better than she. With larger appliances, she calls for a demonstration. Though she has had to turn down a number of would-be advertisers, she has stuck to her principles and trodden on no one’s finer feelings. "I learnt to be so tactful," she says, "because I had to take so many sides, and to be all

things to all men. Which means being a_ very great deal! .People said afterwards that I could have managed Hitler." From 1ZB Auckland, commercial broadcasting spread to Wellington, Christchurch and Dunedin: Soon the voice of Aunt Daisy was heard throughout the land. She moved to Wellington in 1937, and her broadcasts since have originated from 2ZB. In 1938, Aunt Daisy decided the time had come once more to refresh her mind with overseas travel. She applied for three months’ leave in order to attend the Glasgow Exhibition. The. advertising firm of Carlton-Carruthers heard of the proposal and

offered to finance a tour, to include also America; if she would work for The idea of leaving the Broadcasting Service made Aunt Daisy nervous. Her husband’s loss of his job in the depression, her own difficulty in finding enough work to support her family, her dismissal from 2YA, returned to plague her. "These things leave a mark on you," she says. "I’m still nervous. I think if I do something wrong the Service will put me off the air. Barbara tells me not to’ be silly, but I say, ‘They could put me off. You’ve only got to make one false step.’ Oh, I’ve never kidded myself." To Mr Carruthers she confided these anxieties. "I feel the only thing safe in this world is the Government," she said. "Countries and all can come to pieces, but the Government is safe. I wouldn’t like to leave the Service." Carruthers reassured her. He was a married man, he said, with children. Was it likely he’d"let Aunt Daisy down? "But what happens if you die?" asked Aunt Daisy anxiously. "Then," he said, "the firm will go on just the same." a ee

Se Aunt Daisy joined the agency game. She was even given an expense account. "I felt so apologetic about it," she says. "I was careful not to spend anything. I’d put down, Supper: Cup of coffee, 6d, and so on. Mr Carruthers didn’t even look at it;* just chucked it away." Daisy was given a traveller’s farewell in Wellington’s Town Hall. The show was to begin at noon, but the hall was half-full by nine o'clock. "People took their knitting,’ she says, "and 2ZB organised some community ‘singing. There was no advertising. None of these Joy Shows was ever loaded with advertising."

When Aunt Daisy arrived a way had to be forced for her through the crowds overflowing round the entrances. "Look! There she is!" they said. "That’s Aunt Daisy. Isn’t she a trick? How small she is!" Daisy overheard the remarks, and loved it. The festivities began with four men performing a burlesque of Aunt Daisy’s cooking technique. "Mr Bert Nimmo made a haggis," she says. "Such a mess it was. And when it was finished a piper in kilts marched it round the floor." "Then the manager of the Regent Theatre was to cook a sucking pig. He had a real one-poor frightened little feilow, squealing loudly! The recipe said, ‘First make a paste and wrap in that.’ So the pig was plastered all over with paste and the audience shrieked as the oven Coor was opened and the pig put in. There was an exit. at the back, of course, and the pig was seen to back out, still squealing. We heard it for some time, chasing about backstage." "Of course," Aunt Daisy adds, "there were some speeches and farewells and flowers, and I replied in what I hoped: were a few well chosen words." But the high jinks were not over. Through the night, when the Limited stopped at Palmerston North, Taihape, Ohakune, and places north, loyal members of the Daisy Chain assembled on the platform to sing "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do." Daisy hastily donned a coat over her nightdress to acknowledge their good wishes for a happy trip. It was like a Royal Progress, if somewhat less sedate, Auckland, too, added its warm good wishes, and like Royalty, Aunt Daisy was glad to put her feet up when she was finally installed in a comfortable cabin’ (first-class this time) aboard the

Monterey. Before leaving she had recorded a supply of Morning Sessions to last till she could record more at Honolulu. The extra work and the round of farewells would have tested the constitution of a weightlifter. Daisy took it all in her stride. * * a N tour, Daisy saw much of the great firms whose products she adver.tised. She soaked up information like a sponge, and squeezed it out again in a grand total of 102 half-hour recordings made during the trip. At Honolulu she watched the canning of guavas and papayas, "the latter so potent that the workers wore thick gloves to prevent their hands from being digested away." She witnessed the making or packing of electrical goods, chemicals, cod-liver oil, cosmetics, biscuits, salt, chocolate, soap, toothbrushes and corsets. In Hollywood, Aunt Daisy took luncheon with Deanna Durbin; telling the young, star of New Zealand’s Deanna Durbin Quest of not long before. In Yorkshire she ventured on Ilkley Moor, with a hat. In London she savoured the peculiarly English satisfaction of being driven through Hyde Park in a RollsRoyce, escorted by a gentleman of title. The fact that they were both on their way to inspect an egg-processing plant cetracted not qa whit from the pleasure.

Among Aunt Daisy’s social calls were visits to the London studio of Hubert Milverton-Carta, the well-known tenor, whom she had first met when both were broadcasting from 1YA in the late twenties; and to the home of Sir Harry Lauder, the famed Scottish comedian, with whom she had afternoon tea. Also present were the comedian’s _ sister Greta, his small niece, and a pet Scots Terrier named Sandy. At tea, Aunt Daisy remembers that her daughter Barbara was warned by the niece, a solemn lass, "Dinna take anything off that. plate, Sandy’s: been lickin’ ’em." She has not decided to this day whether it was a friendly warning or a Scottish joke. Z

In Norway, one brand of sardines is permitted to bear a kingly name. The firm enjoying this privilege took Aunt Daisy in royal style to see how the fishes were caught. "We were taken out in a beautiful white launch with brass fittings polished like gold," she says. "And on the way they served us a strong drink, Akvavit, made from potatoes, I think. As they held it up they all said, ‘Skol!’" As sardines are too small to be cleaned they are kept at sea in the nets for three days to allow their stomachs to empty. And they must be just the correct size. "Do you know," she says, "that the girls in the factory handle each sardine-one by one!" The grand tour ended at Ceylon, with what Aunt Daisy calls "a celuxe ten days" at the luxurious Galle Face Hotel as guest of the Tea Propaganda Board. She didn’t really need convincing. On tour in wine or coffee drinking countries, she always took the precaution of taking her own packet of tea. Back in New Zealand, she set about Spreading word, of the great incustries she had seen. But because, in Aunt Daisy, the missionary has always been mixed with the saleswoman, she also began agitating for a new scheme to take religion to the people. At Honolulu she had seen a dramatic "sunrise service" conducted in the Punchbowl, a natural amphitheatre among the hills. At home in Wellington, she looked with new eyes at the promising skyline of Mount Victoria. (To be continued)