The Missing Heir

by Kylie Tennant

  My father dictated these reminiscences to me when he was ninety (?).

  THOMAS WALTER TENNANT (b. 11 July 1888), named Thomas after my father and Walter after my mother’s brother. When I was about seventeen a daughter of the only aunt on my father’s side, Aunt Elizabeth, was sent to Australia to find me by Sir Charles who had no sons. In answer to an advertisement in the Sydney Morning Herald my mother found out that it was requested that I should work for the firm of Sir Charles as a cadet for twenty pounds a year.

  As I was receiving the large sum of fifteen shillings per week from John Lysaght here in Australia my mother answered the invitation by saying that I was her son until I was twenty-one and from then on I could do as I wished. I stayed with John Lysaght for fifty-two years and still receive a fair amount from original shares in proprietory and debentures and pension in the now limited company.

  I was married to Katherine Tolhurst and had two daughters, Kathleen (called Kylie) and Dorothy.

  In 1936 when on a trip to England I paid a call on the firm of Sir Charles Tennant and met Ernest Tennant. I had with me an old exercise book of poems written in splendid handwriting and on the front page was William Tennant, Rosewell. I forget the dates written below.

  Ernest Tennant said we had the same grandfather and later I met his father, also William Tennant, who gave me a luncheon and said that I was a cousin of the family ‘on the rich side’, whatever was meant by that.

  I was invited out to their home and told that it was used by King Charles II as a halfway house between London and Cambridge. Nancy took me to see her establishment. She told me that she had a sister who was married and away in Paris. I have pleasant memories of the hospitality accorded me by this family. And I still treasure the welcome given me when Nancy and her father met me at the station. She said, ‘I am thrilled to bits to meet my Australian cousin.’ Something of the same nature was said by William and his son, Ernest, at a luncheon they gave me in London.

  I received a letter to William Lysaght written by William Tennant, both having been in the Munitions Company together, and a photograph of him and his wife. I left the book to which I have referred with Ernest and later on through Australia House sent them some papers willed to me.

  The war followed. After my next trip to England I met Ernest Tennant one-time manager of the Commercial Bank at Kempsey, who had a daughter, and Lord Wakehurst, one-time Governor of New South Wales, who was married to Sir Charles Tennant’s daughter by his second marriage.

  Of my two sisters, Florence is deceased, and Emily is married to S.E. Wilson. My father Thomas H. Tennant was married in Sydney at St Mark’s Church, Double Bay. Hatley was his mother’s family name.

  I presume we are related on the family side of Lord Glenconner who was ill with influenza when I went to see him in 1936. The link would be through that early John Tennant who was married by habit and reputation and had six children. When I was born on 11 July 1888 I was supposed to be the chief of a clan and photos were taken with that in mind.

  Chapter 3: The Infant Phenomenon

  My grandfather Tolhurst — most modest of men — had written out his father-in-law Farr’s account of his early life. He gave it to me with a copy of a book of English history written by great-great-grandfather Farr.

  My great-grandfather dictated the account of his travels as follows:

  ‘Educated at Hanwell College I was removed at the age of eighteen years and placed in the office of a friend of my father’s, a solicitor, in the neighbouring town of Buxbridge, but, disliking the confinement, my father removed me to the office of a member of the London Stock Exchange.

  ‘Shortly after I then entered into the service of Messrs Moffatt & Co., a large firm of tea-brokers of Fenchurch Street, London, and Liverpool. The frequent changes at such short intervals had the effect of making me dissatisfied and unsettled. I resolved to emigrate to the new world, America, and strike out for myself.

  ‘Arriving at New York I realised the seriousness of my position, knowing no one there; however, I bethought of an acquaintance of my father, living in the State of Massachusetts, who had invariably made our home at Avon his abode when he visited England. I made my way up to him by steamboat as far as Troy on the Hudson River and footed the remainder of the journey.

  On my arrival at our friend’s residence at Springfield I was made aware I had little to expect from him, his opportunities to assist me into employment were limited.

  ‘He advised me to return to New York as the Indian summer was just at an end, and, in all probability, the Hudson would be frozen and the traffic by steamer closed. The explanation appeared ridiculous as it was beautiful weather but I took the hint and started on my way to pick up the boat. It was a tedious journey, stopping at farms on my way and before reaching the river I had cause to realise my friend’s warning, having learned that the Hudson was frozen and any chance of completing my journey was gone. I pulled up at Chatham Four Corners and hired out to a Yankee farmer with the object of putting in the winter until the steamers resumed their running. My duties were to feed the stock before breakfast, which we had before daylight, the rest of the day husking corn with my hands. The pay did not consist in coin but in barter — all trade was done by barter in the district. The evenings were spent pleasantly. I frequented a neighbour’s farmhouse, the inmates of which were musical. The Sundays were something to be remembered.

  ‘The farmer and his wife were over-religious and provided me with a most dry uninteresting book wherewith to put in the day.

  ‘After being there a few months my father remitted me sufficient funds to complete my journey to New York. Failing to discover whether the traffic on the Hudson River had been resumed I made arrangements to continue my journey by stages to Poughkeepsie, then the terminus of the railway, the vehicle for conveying passengers being an American waggon without springs, misnamed the Mail, having, in lieu of seats, a layer of straw on the floor.

  ‘A blizzard was blowing on starting and continued all day resulting in a terrible journey and, having no protection from the snow and wind, on reaching the last stage, I was removed from the vehicle frozen stiff and foolishly placed near the stove at the hotel. I became very sick and vomited. However, as it was the Mail, there was no help for it but to make a start for the final stage, the driver and the people at the hotel having considerately made me a resting place on the straw at the bottom of the vehicle. I finished my journey on the train from Poughkeepsie and, on reaching New York, put up at a respectable accommodation house which led to the subsequent events related herein:

  ‘Having but little means I accepted service there as a steward and made the acquaintance of the purser of a steamship on Spofford and Filestons Line running from New York to Charleston, Savannah and New Orleans. This person took a liking to me and suggested that I should accompany him as his assistant, an offer which I gladly availed myself of.

  ‘Having become familiar with the duties I started on my own as providore, going South during the cold winter weather and across to Liverpool in the summer, selecting the steamers of the Spofforth and Filestons Line for the South and Collins Line of mail ships to Liverpool.

  ‘At Charleston I have heard the curfew bell tolled at 5 p.m. warning all coloured people to be indoors excepting those having permits. On one of the trips to Liverpool the “S.S. Atlantic” went ashore on the coast of Ireland and was immediately surrounded by wreckers, who swarmed the deck, the officers being unable to dislodge them.

  ‘Unexpectedly the vessel got off with the rise of the tide, taking the wreckers on to Liverpool, the Captain refusing to give them facilities to leave they were made to work on the run to Liverpool and forced to get back to Ireland the best way they could.

  ‘I did some trading on my own account bringing summer produce of the warm climates down South to the colder climate of New York, making considerable profit.

  ‘The steamers running to New Orleans called at Savannah and also Kingston, Jamaica, but as the stay was only fo
r the purpose of coaling there was nothing eventful to mention.

  ‘The California digging excitement at this period caused a great rush of passengers, and, by force of circumstance, I made two or three journeys in the steamships of Vanderbilt’s Line, trading to Chagres on the Isthmus of Panama, splendid opportunities being thus afforded me for making money. From lack of information passengers between Frisco and New York were handicapped with their belongings. They would discover on reaching the Isthmus there was no means for conveying luggage across to Panama, where they would re-embark on the Pacific side, except on the backs of the natives at a cost of 25 to 30 cents per lb.

  ‘Sooner than they would be thus victimized they would dispose of their luggage for a nominal consideration and — as buyers were limited to the ship’s crew and no one at the time returning to civilization — the goods were offered, and bought, for a song. The currency issued from the State of New York Banks were for all practical purposes as waste paper.

  ‘Coin being the only currency on the Isthmus this was my chance. I bought all the notes offered giving 25 cents for notes of a dollar value to me returning to New York. The same with personal luggage and effects. Lucky diggers returning home with plenty of money but little clothes were glad of the opportunity to make themselves presentable, purchased the effects so discarded and opportunities were thrust in my way to make money which — I am sorry to say — I did not fully avail myself of and may never occur again.

  ‘Having listened to the tales of lucky diggers I decided to try the venture myself and left the Steamship “Union” at Chagres, resigning my trust to others less sanguine.

  ‘The journey across the Isthmus is about sixty miles; half by land and the remainder by canoes up the Chagres River, the land journey commencing at Gorgona or Cruces as preferred. Travellers would not dare to cross the Isthmus except in large parties such as arriving by steamers to and from San Francisco; one party consisting of the passengers en route for the diggings were conveyed (by trams?) by arrangement with the contractors who were constructing the railway about four or five miles thence by Chagres River to Gorgona in canoes, from thence there was a scramble for mules by those who had the means to pay 17 or 18 dollars demanded for the hire of a mule to Panama, which occupied two days in the journey, the animals having to travel at a slow walking pace; the width of the tracks being in some places merely the width of the animals — being cut out of the rocks.

  ‘There was an accommodation house half way. Stepping in the saloon or bar a disturbance arose among the inmates and in an instant revolvers were brought into use, shots being fired without any effect. However, of course, I cleared out without knowing the final result of the encounter.

  ‘Towards evening the following day we entered the city of Panama by the entrance gates, the city being walled in. Flags of different nationalities were hanging from all the hotels and houses of residents. I put up at the hotel of Major Bowles, the living being poor and the charges high but there was little choice and through an unforeseen loss of the steamer which was to convey us up the Pacific Coast we remained nearly two months at Panama. The cause of our enforced detention being the burning of the S.S. “City of Pittsburgh” at Valparaiso on her way down from New York, which had been sent to take up her place in the running between Panama and San Francisco.

  ‘I seldom saw a piece of fresh meat during my stay at Panama, but instead have seen strips of meat like whip-thongs hang on lines to dry in the sun. The food consisted chiefly of eggs and poultry brought from Callao.

  ‘The lock-up at Panama was a curiosity, the front being on view to the passers by, so that conversation could be held by prisoners, with the outside public. Panama is an ancient Spanish city and deficient of sanitary methods. It was quite usual to see a number of vultures hovering outside the walls looking for offal.

  ‘Whilst at Panama and to save what little cash I had I took employment as Steward at the hotel. Steamships did not come to Panama on the chance of getting passengers those arriving there being booked for the round journey and it was therefore compulsory for us to remain until the company despatched a substitute for the “City of Pittsburgh”. In due course the S.S. “Golden Gate” made its appearance specially sent for our party. We had to call at Acapulco, Mexico, for coal and the Captain gave the party the option of coaling. It was done at night time and to that fact is attributed the number of deaths which occurred between there and Frisco. My health had not suffered up to this, and, being on the alert to anything which might result to my advantage, I stopped in Frisco a couple of days — making enquiries as to the route to the diggings. Several saloons were in full swing, day and night. I was hustled out of one of the gambling rooms.

  ‘I engaged a passage on one of the steamers up the Sacramento River (?) to Sacramento, 200 miles, the starting point of the land journey to the mines but could go no further being laid up with the Chagres fever. I was removed from my quarters in the city to the public hospital which consisted of an old hulk moored in the river, the town hospital having been burnt in the great Sacramento fire; I suppose the authorities did their best for me but I lingered on without any improvement until one of the staff advised me to try and get down to the Frisco hospital.

  ‘I was very ill but managed to board the steamer and reached my destination. I was a long time in the hospital having at intervals the Tertian fever, the fever and ague and dumb ague all of which I got at the Isthmus. I received the sound advice there as at Sacramento to get away from California otherwise I would not recover.

  ‘I came across a human person who undertook to see the agents of the Companies under whom I had worked and they gave me a free passage down to the coast of Nicaragua and I had no further difficulty, being well known on the Atlantic side, in getting a passage to New York.

  ‘But the most singular circumstance in connection with my illness was I was perfectly well whilst re-crossing the Isthmus and on reaching the colder climate approaching New York my ailment returned and on arrival at New York I was removed to the City Hospital.

  ‘In course of time and good treatment I became entirely recovered then returned to my old quarters and resumed my old occupation. I made a few trips which aided towards my perfect recovery and gave me pecuniary relief until I received a letter from home urging me to go to Australia and join a relative. I had no difficulty in joining a sailing ship and landed at Melbourne and met my relative who was waiting for me.

  ‘My subsequent experience was of the usual kind in the colonies; various luck as a gold digger and good success in the end, enabling me to marry and settle down. My party broke up. Some continuing as gold diggers; one a Dane who had previously had seafaring experience joined a party who journeyed to New Guinea which at the time was booming. They reached the coast but no farther. They never returned to Australia and it was reported were speared and eaten.

  ‘Up to this period my education had not served me to any great extent. On the break-up of our party I came on to Sydney and joined a younger brother who had been forced by ill health to retire from a clerical position in the War Office in London. Having no previous commercial experience and no fixed resolve regarding my future movements I made some rash speculations. My brother received an appointment to the General Post Office but his health was so precarious and his absence from duty so frequent we found it imperative I should offer my services in his stead.

  ‘I made a proposition and it was approved by the Department that I should undertake his duties until he was convalescent and that he should hold the appointment and accept the pay whilst I did the duty gratuitously. This arrangement continued until his death when the vacancy was offered and accepted by me. I remained in the service of the government of New South Wales for, thirty years until, reaching the retiring age, I was superannuated.’

  Chapter 6: GPO Box 2000

  From Tribune, 9 March 1944

  RIDE OUT STRANGER

  The withdrawal from circulation of Miss

  Kylie Tennant’s cynical and
slanderous novel,

  ‘Ride on, Stranger,’ is a wise move on the part

  of publishers, Angus and Robertson.

  A more morbid, contemptuous view of Australian

  life has never been written.

  Best comment yet heard on it is that, but

  for the working class leaders she sneers at,

  she would not have had the wartime leisure to

  write the book.

  Intended as a hymn to the ‘freedom of the

  individual’, it is an artificial story without

  a single humane character. But the burlesque

  figures are set in real situations, giving an

  impression that they are typical Australian

  people.

  JIBES AT LABOR

  There are incessant jibes at organisations

  like the League against War and Fascism, the

  International Labor Defence, the Trade Union

  Movement, the New Theatre League.

  Egon Kisch, the ‘pig-iron’ dispute and the

  Communist Party are lampooned with a bitterness

  that can only be ascribed to personal prejudice.

  Everywhere the writer can see only hysteria,

  evil motives, despair. Most illuminating is

  her vision of the future (once shared by Trotskyists

  and reactionaries generally): ‘Every

  city will be a great living, humming machine,

  and the humans will be bacteria crawling about

  its entrails …’

  With so many good Australian books awaiting

  publication, it is a scandal that valuable paper