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SEVEN YEARS IN A NEW COUNTRY (1948-1956)
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- The Pylon Lookout (1949-1954)
SEVEN YEARS IN A NEW COUNTRY (1948-1956)Arrival in Australia (1948)Guy arrived in Brisbane on 19 November 1948, on SS Vercors, proceeding from Saigon. He was bound for New Zealand, and had a permit to enter that country as an immigrant. To obtain this permit, he only had to certify that he was able to read and write fluently, was a person of good character and reputation, and had never been in prison or in a mental hospital. Emigrating was simpler in those days. He did not have such a permit for Australia, but was authorized, on arrival in Brisbane as a transhipment passenger (I suppose this was Australian for 'transit') to stay 60 days in the 'Commonwealth of Australia' before he had to apply for registration as an alien. Continuing on his voyage, Guy had a stopover in Sydney before he would cross the Tasman sea. At the same time, my mother, Beryl Lidwell, was making her way, with her parents, on another ship, the Orion. According to the family legend, both steamers arrived on the same day in Sydney, and this was the day the Lidwell family first met this young Frenchman, sharing a lunch in the harbour cafeteria. And here I can insert a nice little text from the full-length article published in Marie-Claire in August 1956, written by a journalist not devoid of the poetic touch. It is a rare privilege for a family to have one of its founding myth written up in such a nice way. "Un jour, Guy débarqua à Sydney. Il passait simplement, son but était la Nouvelle-Zélande. Il avait faim, il avisa un restaurant sur le port. Plein. Mais à une table, on lui fit une place. Des Anglais, immigrants eux aussi, arrivaient droit de Margate, une espèce de Trouville en moins gai. Voulaient ouvrir un 'snack' à Sydney. Avaient une fille. Elle leva de grands yeux bleus et dit: 'Je m'appelle Beryl.' 'Et moi Guy', dit-il. Elle rougit quand il la fixa de ses yeux noirs. Elle avait un petit nez adorablement droit et fin. Un quart d'heure après, Guy s'aperçut brusquement qu'il était seul à table, que les Anglais étaient partis, que c'était abominable; il était amoureux fou du petit nez de Beryl, et il avait laissé partir ces gens, sans même leur demander leur nom ou une adresse. Il resta à Sydney. C'est grand, Sydney: un million cinq cent mille habitants. Mais il retrouverait Beryl. Un peit nez comme celui-ci, il n'y en a pas deux dans le monde. Pendant six mois il erra dans la ville, dès que son travail lui laissait un instant. Il travailla d'abord dans une fabrique de saucisses. Puis il fut guide. Il faisait visiter le pont de Sydney; c'est un des plus longs du monde, 1 km 250, enjambant le port, et d'où une vue porte à trente kilomètres à l'intérieur des terres. Le second jour, pour la pause déjeuner, il repère un 'snack' flambant neuf sur le quai. Il entre. Derrière le comptoir, une voix demande: 'Hot dog?' Guy lève les yeux. Il resta bouche ouverte: il avait devant lui le petit nez parfait de Beryl. Un mois plus tard, Beryl Lidwell était devenue Mme Guy Montin." Behind the fairy tale, the facts are true. But the young woman had not been waiting in the snack-bar all that time. Instead of staying with her parents, Beryl had crossed the Tasman and taken up residence in New Zealand, where she held a number of short-term jobs, mainly as a hotel receptionist, for which she was fully qualified, having been trained and working in England before and during the war. It is only after a few months that, perhaps bored with NZ, she took the boat back to what was, and still is, the capital of the South Pacific. During that time, Guy was fully occupied in taking a new start in life. His first address was "Carnarvon", 31 Bayswater Rd, Kings Cross, which is virtually next door to the hotel where I stayed in 2014, a case of long-term coincidence. The spot is now occupied by a major modern residential complex. Kings Cross is now the "hottest" district in Sydney where artists and trendy people live. It offers all-night entertainment, in spite of the ban on drinking alcohol in the public space. On his application for registration, Guy had to indicate whether he had a job and an employer, and was allowed to leave the space blank. According to what he later said, he immediately started work in a sausage factory, on the floor as a simple packer, presumably after reading a classified ad. The story was probably meant to convey the idea that as an immigrant, he had to start right at the bottom of the social ladder. He was already earning seven to eight pounds or a 40 hour week68 and writing applications to all prospective employers on his new typewriter. In a letter to a friend perhaps in Saigon at the consulate, he told of his very positive first impressions about Australians: "contacts with the locals are always friendly, and everybody is ready to help you, except with the other French people." He was living "in King's Cross, the Montmartre of Sydney, and the only place in the South Pacific where a Frenchman can live without getting bored. It is also the most expensive place Australia." The Pylon Lookout (1949-1954)This laborious start must not have lasted long. As early as two months later (25 January 1949), he was writing a letter in English to an unspecified correspondent about his first impressions of Australia, having just got a much better job on the Sydney Pylon Look Out: I have been working at the Pylon lookout for five days. It is a wonderful job, so good in fact that, knowing my luck, I can't believe it will last as long as I would like it to. The Pylon opens at 10 am for the visitor, the staff coming in at quarter to. Nearly every day, there is a can containing ten gallons of milk to be carried up the stairs. There are 196 steps from where the lift stops to the café and it takes half an hour to carry the milk, including the numerous halts at the landings and the discussions as to which is the best way of handling the can. Generally, when the milk reaches destination, at least one pint of it rests inside each participant. It is good milk too, fresh and creamy on the top, and still cool from the dealer's frig. Then we get the daily roster, giving us our time for morning tea, lunch and afternoon tea (ten minutes for teas and one hour for lunch) and the place where we work for the day: Binoculars on the roof, Magic picture, Souvenir counter, Milk Bar, Great Map or Entrance. The best jobs are, in order, Binoculars, souvenirs and Magic Picture. Why? Because the higher they are located the lesser the chance that old Mr Kippax climbs up to send you down to fetch the ice cream cones that have just arrived. The staff is entirely recruited among University students and the spirit is typical of the species. The business is run by a Mrs R.69 who is the wife of an important business man in Sydney. Sometimes I wonder if the whole set-up has any purpose other than keeping a wife busy and helping twenty-five students work their way through University. An average of five hundred people come up per day. They pay 11 pence for entrance, sign the Book for 6 pence, show their skill to the girl friend on the various slot machines and generally spend from two to three shillings at the café and milk bar. On those takings, thirty people get their wages and the D.M.R. collects a rent for the premises. This is the only thing that worries me and makes me doubtful concerning the future. If only I could be certain that it would last for three years, or even one year, I would be in a position to matriculate as an evening student for Arts. I feel certain now that, if I am to achieve something in this early life it will have to be in that field. The week I have just spent among students has taken ten years off my shoulders. And the girls ! They may be unattractive and even ugly according to the accepted standards, but there is something in them which is not to be found in the Beach Competition type. I have a little more than one month to settle the two problems on the solution of which depends my joining the University this year. Cheaper lodgings70 and permanent work. The situation is far from desperate and I hope I will be in a position to give you good news by the end of March. I am sure I will be seeing you again some time and I hope that everything is all right with yourself and your family, Yours sincerely. Though it is indicative of his enterprising mind to be evaluating the profitablility of his employer's business, Guy was wrong about its lack of sustainability. He was to work there for 5 years and though it has been modernised several times since, it is still in operation sixty years later, offering much the same facilities, now steeped in a retro (50ies) atmosphere fitting to its antiquity and to the Australians' taste for history. I returned there in 2014 with my wife and though it has been commercially overtaken by an attraction more in tune with current trends (crossing the bridge over the cables, fully decked in mountaineering gear), it remains on the tourist trail in Sydney. One thing Guy had anticipated: the staff has been drastically cut and there seems to be no more than a dozen employees there. Here is the text of the historical placards : "From 1948 to 1971, the 'All Australian exhibition' aimed to turn the south-east pylon into a "showcase for Australia". Financed by government departments and private and public companies, it consisted of informative dioramas and displays on subjects such as farming, sport, transport, mining, banking, the Navy and the Air Force. Visitors could enjoy the viewing platform using an orientation table, a scenic wall guide and giant binoculars.
This is confirmed by our friend Tony Barker71, whom Guy met after he left the Pylon: In those days the Pylon Lookout was managed by Yvonne Rentoul, wife of the manager of the Hotel Australia. Mrs Rentoul had a couple of eccentricities, one being breeding and keeping a succession of white cats, which roamed fearlessly around the parapets of the pylon; the other was hiring some unusual young men as assistants. As well as attending to the souvenir shop, Guy made himself useful by making or maintaining some of the Pylon’s exhibits. He produced several placards, which are still on display at the Pylon as a memento of Mrs Rentoul’s time there from 1948 to 1971. He also constructed a camera obscura, which became a popular tourist attraction, even though it only showed an inverted image of the traffic flowing over the Harbour Bridge below. Guy must have quickly laid aside his did not waste time applying for entrance to University, as he received a letter from the Registrar dated 15 February 1949 accepting him for the next term, which started on 14 March, providing he paid a fee of £3. The Registrar also offered an interview with the Adviser to Men Students to "discuss your courses and other matters generally." It looks like Australia was really, at the time, a land of opportunity. Guy remained at the Pylon from January 1949 to February 1954, leaving of his own accord to join the reading room of the Sun newspaper in Sydney. According to the end-of-employment affidavit, given by Mrs Rentoul, "he contributed imaginative personal creations to the All-Australian exhibition, combining originality and initiative with considerable practical ability72. Furthermore, he accepted the responsibility of administration when so required and demonstrated the ability to work well with his colleagues."73 However, strangely, he returned to do another stint there from November 1954.74 Mrs Rentoul always kept a high regard for Guy after he left. My father was proud that she actually visited us in 1966, when we were living in Orthez, to ask him to become the manager of the Lookout, an offer that was financially insufficiently attractive and he turned down. But she may not have lost hope and wrote a detailed letter about the situation of the Pylon the next year75, showing inter alia that it was gradually becoming a little old-fashioned.
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