John Stonehouse, My Father

by Julia Stonehouse

  On the 11th March, the select committee that was established to tackle the issue of their errant MP stated in their first report that they ‘cannot advise the House to take any action for the present’. Their opinion changed, however, when they saw the letter to the Swedish prime minister, and were told a warrant for my father’s arrest had been issued by a Bow Street magistrate on 20th March. In their second report, published on the 6th May, the members refer to the Swedish letter, and say, ‘Mr Stonehouse has abandoned his Parliamentary duties.’ Moreover, as there was now a warrant, they considered ‘it irreconcilable with membership of this House for a Member of Parliament, when charged with serious criminal offences, not to submit himself to the processes of justice established by Parliament. For these reasons Your Committee consider that a Motion to expel Mr Stonehouse would now be justified. They recommend that such a Motion should not be moved earlier than one month after the publication of this Report, in order to give Mr Stonehouse the opportunity to attend the House or resign.’6

  On the 1st April, someone at the Australian Consulate General in San Francisco decided to play an April Fool’s Day joke on the British. On the 2nd April, Mr Scullard of the British embassy in Washington DC reported the events to a Mr Blair at the Foreign Office in London: ‘Upon my arrival home last evening I was given a message to ring the duty officer at once. I did so and learned that the Australian embassy had alerted him to the fact that Mr John Stonehouse had just arrived in Los Angeles and was being held there by the immigration authorities pending instructions. We telephoned Los Angeles and told the unfortunate duty officer there to get in touch with US immigration and find out at once what document Mr Stonehouse had travelled on. At the same time my Australian cousins were telephoning Canberra for instructions. I was about to send you a Flash telegram (at midnight your time) when we learned from Los Angeles that the whole thing was an April 1st occasion … I have received abject apologies from my Australian colleague but personally I think this was one of the best jokes I have heard for many years.’7 He got an irate reply back from Jack Dixon at the FCO, dated 8th April: ‘Robin Blair passed me your letter of 2 April as I am the extradition man. Remember? As one who, for three months, spent about half his official time and a fair part of his private time on the Stonehouse affair and who went home at Easter believing that the case was wrapped up as far as was humanly possible I would not have been best pleased if the Resident Clerk had awakened me in the early hours of 2 April and I had in turn to awaken the others in Whitehall who would have needed to be told. And we would all have been furious if we had then learned it was all a hoax. As it was, a fair amount of official time and money was spent as a result of the hoax, including a telegram from Canberra repeated to Los Angeles and Wellington, and I cannot bring myself to regard it as a joke. I hope the Australian was suitably disciplined.’8

  The humourless Jack Dixon had already been busy trying to head my father off at the pass. On the 19th March, he’d drafted a telegram to the British High Commission in Port Louis, Mauritius, about how they could dissuade the Mauritians from taking Stonehouse in, including pointing out ‘the embarrassment to them which you foresee his presence in Mauritius might cause’.9 The prime minister, Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam, was an old friend of my father, and had initially replied warmly to his request for a passport, but the situation became a lot more complicated after the 21st March, when the warrant for his arrest was carried out. On the 11th April, Jane went to Mauritius, after being strip-searched at Melbourne Airport as well as having her luggage searched. They said they were looking for a large amount of money, but were probably looking for the letter from my father that Jane carried to the PM, saying he’d now have to deal with the criminal charges, but would thereafter still be interested in getting a passport from them. Jane stayed part of her time there with Sir Harold Walter and his wife, Yvette; Harold had been friends with my father for fourteen years and was now the minister for population control. The press in Mauritius, Australia and the UK wanted to know what she was doing there. British diplomats reported on the 12th that Stonehouse had told the press: ‘It is well known that I have applied for passports from a number of countries. Mauritius is one of them. I pointed out that if I secured the defeat of the attempts to extradite me I would still have to leave Australia within 72 hours, once I ceased to be an MP, and for that I would need a passport. It is persecution and twisting of the facts to suggest that I am trying to get away.’ They noted that ‘Mr Stonehouse is further reported as saying that he planned to renounce his British citizenship “at an appropriate time”.’10 On the same day, the high commissioner of Mauritius in London was at 10 Downing Street being advised of the British position. He said he’d ‘been instructed by Mr Ramgoolam to elicit directly from the Prime Minister whether he would be embarrassed if Mr Stonehouse were to be granted a Mauritian passport’, adding that ‘Mr Stonehouse had many friends in Mauritius, including his Prime Minister, who had been touched by the personal tragedy of the present situation’. The high commissioner was given details of the legal charges and told of the British concern that ‘if he is given a Mauritian passport, Mr Stonehouse might attempt to get to a country from which there would be no hope of obtaining his extradition. The Mauritian Government might well pause before agreeing to facilitate such an evasion of justice.’ He was reminded that the assistant high commissioner had already spoken to the Foreign Office, ‘and had been left in no doubt as to the displeasure that would colour any British Government reaction to a decision to grant Mr Stonehouse a Mauritian passport’.11 The high commissioner reported back about Britain’s ‘displeasure’ to Mr Ramgoolam that night. By the time Jane left Mauritius, everyone knew the decision was ‘no’, but privately Jane had been told that if the extradition proceedings failed, he would be given travel documents. When she arrived back in Melbourne, she was again strip-searched, and her luggage gone through.

  My father had written to other old friends who were now leaders of their countries but, being Commonwealth countries, they too feared the ‘displeasure’ of the British government and were bound by the same extradition treaties. None relished a diplomatic incident. Only silence came back from the president of Bangladesh, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, who’d given my father honorary citizenship of that country in thanks for all he’d done for them. A secretary in the office of Seretse Khama of Botswana sent a formal and negative reply. Not a word was forthcoming from Presidents Nyerere of Tanzania, Kenyatta of Kenya or Kaunda of Zambia. The prime minister of Canada, Pierre Trudeau, eventually replied in a friendly tone, saying he’d discussed the matter with Harold Wilson and Gough Whitlam at the Commonwealth Heads of State Meeting in Jamaica, held between the 29th April and the 6th May, and it was a ‘No’. My father had to face the fact that political expediency now drove the men he’d been so close to over many years, usually in the capacity of helping them forge independence for their countries. This hurt him very deeply. If the African leaders had at least sent a letter saying they couldn’t help because it would jeopardise their relationship with Britain, my father would have understood that, but their deafening silence echoed in his heart.

  The extradition proceedings were due to begin in Melbourne on 5th May, but the prosecution asked for a three-week adjournment. The select committee’s second report on the 6th May complicated things because they were asking my father to either resign or attend the House, or a motion could be put before the House to have him expelled. That would be the last straw, and a sense of urgency gripped us all, including Dr Gibney, who thought such an action would have serious emotional content for my father. With the three-week adjournment, the court would resume on 26th May. With the time frame implied by the wording of the select committee report, my father thought he would have to be in London by 6th June. Even if he pleaded guilty to all charges – which he wasn’t about to do – he could never make it back to London in time because anyone being extradited must spend a mandatory fifteen days in an Australian jail before leaving the country. He began t
o panic. As well as the extradition proceedings to worry about, he had this catch-22 to get around as well.

  My father was desperate to avoid being returned to London in handcuffs because of successful extradition proceedings, and his lawyers were convinced they could win his case and he could then do as he wished. During the preliminary discussions at the magistrates’ court, my father instructed his lawyer to propose to the prosecution that the extradition case be withdrawn, allowing him to fly to London immediately. The prosecution agreed, but only on the condition that Sheila also agreed. Her counsel, George Hampel, however, did not: he thought the case against Sheila was flimsy and they could win. So the opportunity to return without extradition proceedings was lost. My father had been caught in another catch-22: pressure to return to the House of Commons before they expelled him, set against pressure from Sheila’s lawyers to remain in Australia and fight the charges. Their cases had to be dealt with together because, by this time, the prosecution had added the charge of conspiracy.

  Back in London, it was announced that the House of Commons would hold a debate on the motion to expel my father as an MP on Thursday 12th June. The pressure was rising. At the resumed court hearing in Melbourne on the 26th May, the magistrate proposed another two-week adjournment, and the prosecution agreed, but my father was desperate for proceedings to progress so he could attend the debate in London and, at the request of the defence, it was reduced to four days. By this time my father had become convinced that people back in London were deliberately trying to prevent him getting back in time. The select committee said in their fourth report that ‘between 5th May, when extradition proceedings were commenced, and the resumed hearing on the 26th May, it was open to Mr Stonehouse to announce his willingness to submit to an order of the Australian Court which could still have resulted in his return by now’. The select committee never seemed to be aware of the legal catch-22 in Melbourne, and my father sent a cable to the prime minister, saying ‘The select committee have made this observation without in any way consulting me or my lawyers, or obtaining advice on the legal position here in the State of Victoria.’12

  Completely exasperated, my father made the decision to get on a plane and fly back to London. He made no secret about his plans. On the 30th May, he wrote to the chairman of the select committee, George Strauss, saying: ‘I have a booking on British Airways flight 419 from Melbourne at 12 noon on Sunday 1 June arriving Monday 7a.m. on 2 June in London. However, the magistrate has said that if I attempt to catch this plane I shall be in breach of bail and I will be arrested by the police here. The failure of the UK Government to agree to my leaving on this plane is tantamount to impeding my attendance in the House of Commons.’13 In fact, he never caught that particular flight, because he wanted to try one last time to see if he could leave legally. He went to the magistrates’ court to request a hearing on his extradition so he could be allowed to leave Victoria, but was refused. Then he made a personal plea, exempting his solicitor from blame for what was to come, and told the magistrate he was going to remove himself from the jurisdiction of the court, and catch a plane to London.

  On the 9th June, Jane delivered to the consul general in Melbourne a petition from my father to the Queen, written in his capacity as a privy counsellor. It was a desperate move, that expected no response, but my father was becoming a very desperate man. In London, my mother described it as his ‘last weapon’ in the effort to get the debate to expel him postponed.14 Jane then headed for Melbourne’s Tullamarine International Airport with my father and Mathew, where around 60 reporters, photographers and television crews were waiting for them. Some reporters had bought tickets to London. My father, Jane and Mathew struggled past the crowd. Checking in was too easy, and porters were waiting to whisk their bags away. My father kept his with him. They went through customs and immigration. With each step closer to the plane they wondered whether, miracle of miracles, the authorities were allowing him to return to the UK – which is what extradition was designed to achieve. It had all been so easy, but Jane began to get suspicious because there was a half-hour delay in opening the doors to board the plane. She thought the police would be behind the doors, but my father was daring to be hopeful. The doors opened and they went through, but they were locked behind them. Now they were trapped, and Inspector Bob Gillespie appeared. Jane wrote in her diary, ‘the energy of misery was overpowering’. My father leant against the wall in a daze as Gillespie read the charge of attempting to obstruct the course of justice. My father turned his back on him and Gillespie threatened to charge him with resisting arrest. To drown out his words my father kept repeating, ‘I want to talk to John Sullivan.’ Jane held my father’s hand. They went upstairs to the security check, Jane in tears. Gillespie wanted to leave immediately but Jane said, ‘For God’s sake, let us say goodbye.’ They sat and gripped each other in an embrace, both sobbing their hearts out, with my brother looking sadly on. Jane wrote, ‘Pa saying that he was so terribly in love with us all and me telling him to be strong and keep himself together … The heart-wrenching sobs were terrifying and he wiped his tears saying “give my love to mummy”, and hugged Mathew.’ Then he was taken away.

  Shaking and sobbing, Jane and Mathew boarded the plane to London. They ordered two brandies. Jane wrote in her diary, ‘I just cried and cried. Am still crying. Mathew is thoroughly unhappy. It was just so lonely him not being there. Poor, poor daddy – it’s all so very unfair. He knew he’d be arrested but it is still a ghastly shock. At Perth I rang Peter [Game] and he said pa appeared in court and was mute – he looked very miserable and haggard – I hope he isn’t going to snap but it sounds as if he is.’ At Heathrow, Jane and Mathew were met by our mother and held a press conference at which they said they fully supported my father, and would do what they could to stop the proposed debate on his expulsion from the House of Commons. Back in Melbourne, my father refused to say a word in court and didn’t request bail, so was sent to Pentridge Prison. He remained mute and refused to eat.

  Nine hours behind Melbourne, the Cabinet met at 10 Downing Street in London that same day, the 9th June, at 11.30am. They had three items on the agenda: 1) The leaking of speeches to the press; 2) Deciding whether to go ahead with the debate on the 12th to expel Stonehouse; and, the rather more important item, 3) The statement the prime minister was to make that afternoon regarding the outcome of the referendum on continuing membership of the European Community (in which 67 per cent had voted ‘yes’). On item two, Edward Short outlined the issues: ‘It would be unsafe to agree to his return to this country except in custody and as a result of extradition proceedings, since otherwise there would be no power to prevent him absconding. These difficulties were, however, largely of Mr Stonehouse’s own making and would not have arisen if he had not opposed extradition in the first place.’ Short wanted him returned in custody, but the last thing my father wanted was the stigma of being brought back in handcuffs and, according to my father’s lawyer, the extradition warrants were incorrectly drawn, and thus invalid, plus they thought they had good grounds to challenge the charges. The attorney general was concerned that a debate would prejudice the possibility of my father ‘receiving a fair trial in later criminal proceedings’, even though the Speaker had indicated that he could prevent Members breaking sub judice rules. He thought the issue should focus on non-attendance and being unable to perform parliamentary duties, and was worried that any delay meant there could be no by-election before October. As my father had a safe Labour seat, and the government had a wafer-thin majority, this was important to consider. In the discussion, it was noted that ‘it appeared that Mr Stonehouse was now making genuine efforts to return to this country; and that being so the public might well consider it unjust that he should be expelled from the House of Commons in his absence’.15 Cabinet deferred the decision for 48 hours, when it was decided to cancel the debate on the proposal to expel him.

  When he heard that, my father started talking and eating again. He’d been in pr
ison in Melbourne where, on the 10th and 11th, he was seen by the consultant psychiatrist in charge, Dr Bartholomew, who had a hard time conducting his consultations with a man who wouldn’t talk and would only write his answers down on a piece of paper. His report stated that he ‘considered the man to be grossly mentally disturbed – hysterical – but wonder about the possibility of an underlying schizophrenic illness’.16 Court resumed on 13th June. The prosecutor, Mr James, had made it clear right from the outset of the extradition proceedings that his instructions were to oppose bail, but despite my father’s flight or, rather, missed flight, the magistrate granted him bail with a low surety of A$500.