The opening words of The Go-Between, L.P. Hartley’s 1953 novel, are: “The past is a foreign country, they do things differently there”. And, indeed it is. And, indeed they do.
I was a student of The University of Melbourne in the days when Victoria had one university only. The first student intake of Monash University, the second university to be established in the State, was not until 1961. [For completeness, I should note that long-established technology institutions RMIT and Swinburne, were subsequently accorded university status.]
The academic year had ended in November 1959, and here I was in January 1960 still fiddling about with no plan – concrete or fanciful – for my future. I had not sought to find post-university employment, nor thought too deeply about it. The pressures of today did not then exist. There were numerous employment opportunities for university graduates, although this didn’t exactly mean that it was a buyer’s market, not in the world of the large accountancy firms, anyway. But, come mid-February 1960, I had stirred myself sufficiently to have attended a number of employment interviews, and to be contemplating several offers of positions. Strangely, though, each was for an identical sum, 850 pounds ($1700) per annum! I knew little about each of my prospective employers, hence the decision-making process was somewhat fraught.
Relevant to my story are The Herald and Weekly Times Limited, the publishers of the afternoon newspaper, The Herald (terminated, as a very cold dish of revenge, after Murdoch took over the corporation in 1990) and of The Sun News-Pictorial (still with us as the Herald Sun). Back in 1955 I had been a beneficiary of one of the Herald group’s “promotion” activities, Sun Youth Travel. Other such Herald group public outreach ventures include The Herald Outdoor Art Show [long gone], The Herald Sun Tour, The Sun Aria [now known as the Melbourne Sun Aria].
The director of the promotional function within the HWT organisation was one, Frank Moloney. Moloney had conceived Sun Youth Travel, and was a godfather figure, not simply as the progenitor of the scheme, but as active organiser – and physical participant as tour leader, on three of the four tours that eventuated. Moloney’s conception was to take Australian schoolboys to Great Britain: put loosely, to give them “a taste of the old country”. But it was much more, including the geography, the history, the sociology, and the immersion in a nation still in its post-War recovery phase. And, not least, the experience of living together with a strange bunch of other 14- or 15-years old lads (sadly no lassies!) for three months, including the weeks aboard steamer to and fro. I was fortunate to be selected for the 1955 tour. This was to be the final Youth Travel. There had always been private sponsorship on top of what the Sun stumped up; and after four tours, and some lessening of public interest (and hence newsworthiness), and lengthening of potential co-sponsor pockets, the scheme was abandoned after 1955. In passing, I note that former participants in the Sun Youth Travel scheme have maintained a strong continuing interest in their shared experience, an interest manifested in a formal Association, in annual reunions and, to some extent, in supporting “overseas” charities. 70-year-plus friendships are somewhat special. Nevertheless, a couple of years ago, in a triumph of logic over hope and after some heart-felt debate, the Association decided to terminate – it was time to acknowledge the difficulties of holding on-going reunions, to disperse the remaining funds, and maybe to find a repository for the files and the memorabilia.
In the post-Youth Travel years Frank Moloney retained a keen interest in the lads who had participated in his tours, and his friendly ear was always available at the Sun Promotions office. It happened that I had cause to visit that office in February 1960, and I mentioned to Frank my surfeit of job offers. He immediately took charge. What about the auditors of The Herald itself? Had I contacted them? Were they looking for recruits? I didn’t know; I wouldn’t have had the cheek to ask . So, Frank was straight on the phone to the auditors. He had a qualified protégé here who wanted a job, and what were they offering? Well, they weren’t actually offering anything; but I nonetheless emerged from Frank Moloney’s office on the way to a 1250 pounds p.a. position!
That 1250 pounds ($2500) amounted to 23.50 pounds ($47.00) per week net of tax. As I said at the outset: the past was a foreign country, where they did things differently. When the first month’s pay arrived in my bank account, I treated myself to a quality fountain pen - a pen which endured years of punishment but which has been free of my torture for decades. Here it is:
It’s an elegant Parker 51, with silver cap. The internet is awash with optimists who dream of their equivalent pen fetching many multiples of the amount I paid back in 1960.
Gary Andrews
