A MAN AND HIS STRUGGLE

Radio Record, 11 March 1938, Page 13

A MAN AND HIS STRUGGLE

Memoties of T. Lindsay Buick, New Zealand Historian, Whose Work is an Asset to Nation’s Literature.

Special to the "‘Record" by

PAT

LAWLOR

THE death last month of Mr. T. Lindsay Buick at the age of 72 years, historian, music-lover and broadcaster, whose voice was well known to National station listeners, was a loss to Dominion letters that will be even more keenly realised as time goes on. In this article Pat Lawlor tells of his life and struggle.

ORN in Oamaru, and a_ self-edu-cated man, T. Lindsay Buick commenced work as a carpenter, entered public life as a lecturer, was a member of Parliament at the age of twenty-four, later a newspaper proprietor, a

chairman of the Parliamentary Press Gallery, a member of the Press Association, and a member of several musica] organisations. Diverse though his interests were, he was, most important of all, New Zealand’s greatest historian. In all these activities he called on 100 per cent. of his ability, his enthusiasm and his sincerity. Mr. Buick was not a genius. Better, he was completely thorough and efficient in all he did. His historical works-and they were many and important-will live for ever in the literature of his country and in the leading libraries of the world, as priceless records of New Zealand history. One work alone, "The Treaty of Waitangi," would have made his name imperishable-for if it had not been written the perpetuation of the famous Treaty which took place a few years ago would never have taken place. Undoubtedly Lord Bledisloe found the inspiration for what he did in this respect through Mr. Buick’s work. I know this, also, that Lord Bledisloe was the only one to show, in that practical gesture of finance, his appreciation of Mr. Buick’s work by purchasing a hundred copies at one guinea each of the second edition of the book. if HAD a long talk with Mr. Buick only four days before he died. It was in the rather cheerless office made available to him by the Government-in the Turnbull Library. It is appropriate for a writer to be surrounded by books, but in Lindsay Buick’s office he was overwhelmed by massive tomes. Many of these, the size of overgrown ledgers, overshadowed and crowded in on his table. It was here that Mr. Buick did the last of his research work. Death seemed very far away when I saw him. He looked well, and I told him so. "Yet, I am seventy-two years old, remember," he replied with a sad smile. "Well," I observed, "if I look as healthy as you do now when I am seventy-two I’ll not complain." {VEN so, Mr, Buick did not seem contented. In spite of hig many, many acquaintances, he was a lonely man, and, in many respects, a disappointed man. The general public would not buy his books, and the general bookseller, he complained, would not display them. I do not think hia financial return from any of them wag of much account.

Yet, at book auc: tions there was the invidious contrast of collectors tumbling over themselves to pay faney prices for his earlier editions, but with no extra gain to the author. Even when the second edition of "Woitansi’? had been

on sale for some months, some booksellers, in an endeavour to make the book collectors’ item, increased the retail price to 30/-. Small consolation for Mr. Buick... . (NE might ask why he persisted in this unremuuerative work. The answer is a tribute to Buick’s character. He wrote with a sense of national pride, a sense of duty. His was the almost thankless task of the historian. Credit must be given to the Government for makiug him officer of historical research under the Department of Internal Affairs at the Turnbull Library. Even this, however. did not release him of financial worry, for, as he remarkei to me with no little anxiety, "How long will the Govern ment make this job last?" Yet, in spite of these financial worries, in spite of frequent ill health, he manfully pursued his path as our historical recorder. At the time of his death he had just completed his book on the Sovereignty of New Zealand. Just before this, his third and most interesting work on the moa, "The Moa Hunters," had been published. Another work he told me he had in hand was a life of Baron Thierry, the accumulating manuscript of which he fondly handled on his table. S I was speaking to him, neither of us thought for a moment that in four days’ time it would be a posthumous, uncompleted effort. He had also collected much material from old Marlborough residents for a projected revised edition of his Marlborough book, which contains such a vivid and faithful account of the Wairau Massacre. Auvother work in view was a history of old Dunedin. In his little room at the Library on this particular day my talk reminded me of another interview I had years be fore at the old museum over the way. This was with the late Elsdon Best, another noted New Zealand historian. By a sad coincidence Elsdon Best also complained to me of lack of appreciation of his work, and I noted also the painfully poor office aceommodation allowed him. On this occasion I wrote an artiele drawing attention to the matter. Shortly Mr, . Best was given a more suitable office to work in, but. he died shortly after, much of his work, as in the case of Mr, Buick, being uncompleted, (Continped on page 36.)

Man and Struggle | (Continued ftom page 13.) [THE late Mr, Buick was a man of character, extremely sensitive, quick to take offence and quick to forgive. He was a generous mentor for many writers. I know that two or three hours each day was devoted by him to giving advice to the many people who ealled on him. I remember, gratefully, how he helped me many years ago when I entered the press gallery. I was a raw reporter, and it was Mr. Buick who often left aside his own pile of work to help me with mine. I believe that future generations will honour hig name for the glorious legacy of historical work he hag left behind him. It all bears the stamp of reliability. There is only one point on. which I have heard his accuracy questioned and that was one aspect of the Waitangi book where he has been accused of bigotry. Whereas he may have unintentionally mistated fact in this respect, no one who khew him would accuse him of bias. It was. I think, more a case of innocent "journalistic atmosphere" and at any rate, was, I believe, altered in the second edition. And now I think of his empty room at the Turnbull Library and the overpowering atmosphere of unweildy books that seemed almost as if they were there to crush him with their weight. ‘Perhaps the books he wrote and their reception by an unresponsive public, weighed their disappointment on him instead, and hastened hig end. This thought I will leave to my readers and our leaders, so that they in future may not wait till Death comes along before they sing praises and erect memorials to worth-while writers.