A time perfectly captured David. My father was working then for the Liquor Industry Council funded by the alcohol industry (essentially DB and Lion) to protect their duopoly. Lobbying was a two way street and from time to time an MP would ring up to say their daughter was getting married in the weekend, 200 guests, here's the address for delivery, beer and some cold duck for the toasts thanks...
Heeding advice of blue collar elders to "get a trade to fall back on" I turned away from offered tertiary education & spent four years at the Post Office Workshops in Newmarket in a department managed by an alchoholic engineering genius nicknamed "Smelly", observing a multinational array of blokes and their ritualistic behaviours in working and social environments. Talk about confusing signals and poor role models. Those workshops were at the edge of the gully where Lion breweries would sometimes torture the hungover by spilling their waste, especially nauseating on the long hot, still, summer days. I think the "11th commandment" management culture was fully woven throughout all of Kiwi society by the late seventies. It seemed to be the bedrock of the public service "jobs for life" credo, where repeatedly & completely buggering up jobs merely resulted in promotion to the correct level of ineffectiveness while thieving and "3 pint liquid lunches" got a shrugged "everybody does it, just don't get caught or you're on your own." Utopian indeed, for many.
While the systems weren't efficient, at least most families had one breadwinner in a single job with optional overtime and a home they could afford to rent or pay the mortgage on, and if the partner worked it was usually part-time to pay for a car or holiday or extension or batch. Not both working multiple jobs just to pay for food, clothes, dentist bills, and other necessities.
Lovely writing. Takes me back to the late 70s at the Royal Oak in Wellington with the lively public bar downstairs frequented by wharfies gang members and Cuba St night club workers contrasting with the faux opulence of the lounge bar upstairs
Great article, David. I also worked for that duopoly, on the Lion side, after 15 years managing bars and restaurants in various locales. I also should have avoided such easy access to booze, but persevered (another 11 years after 4 at Lion) until I was almost 50 when I had a good hard look at myself and realised that I was doing nobody any good, be that customers, bosses or myself.
The culture at Lion was one of the most extraordinary things I've ever witnessed. Incredible blokeism, out and out alcoholism and excess, a huge tick for anything sexist or sexual. They tell me it's changed, I level them with my squinty eye of cynicism.
Not even the bungey/bungie/bungy (??) now, David. Gone, no address.
I remember this hotel too. And a tale of when they came to demolish it, the demolishers discovered to their horror that it was reinforced concrete, and wouldn't just break up and come down. There are still scraps of it with the rusty bits poking out around the perimeter of the carpark.
Drinking ain't what it used to be, eh? One Christmas I went to the Vidcom party quite late. The food was gone, but still plenty of booze. I drove home, one eye closed so I could focus on the white line at the edge of the motorway. It quite astonishes me now that I did that without a qualm.
Great yarn, thanks. Love your Sunday bits tbh. Did you have anything to do withe the lounge bar of the Riv? That was remade into a wonderful little bar for a short while back then...
I respect this story exemplifying the time when we stop attempting to fit in to what others want, learn to be fully ourselves and find it so much more rewarding. It took me even longer.
So relateable! The Royal International with its own dignified air of quiet savoir faire. In contrast to the Victoria across the road with it's mighty and inimitable 'Miti' later or before can't remember at the Tap Room in Elliot St. Where her fist was iron needs be and otherwise a raucous "Hello Dear!" Oh the days!
A time perfectly captured David. My father was working then for the Liquor Industry Council funded by the alcohol industry (essentially DB and Lion) to protect their duopoly. Lobbying was a two way street and from time to time an MP would ring up to say their daughter was getting married in the weekend, 200 guests, here's the address for delivery, beer and some cold duck for the toasts thanks...
Another grand reminiscence David.
Heeding advice of blue collar elders to "get a trade to fall back on" I turned away from offered tertiary education & spent four years at the Post Office Workshops in Newmarket in a department managed by an alchoholic engineering genius nicknamed "Smelly", observing a multinational array of blokes and their ritualistic behaviours in working and social environments. Talk about confusing signals and poor role models. Those workshops were at the edge of the gully where Lion breweries would sometimes torture the hungover by spilling their waste, especially nauseating on the long hot, still, summer days. I think the "11th commandment" management culture was fully woven throughout all of Kiwi society by the late seventies. It seemed to be the bedrock of the public service "jobs for life" credo, where repeatedly & completely buggering up jobs merely resulted in promotion to the correct level of ineffectiveness while thieving and "3 pint liquid lunches" got a shrugged "everybody does it, just don't get caught or you're on your own." Utopian indeed, for many.
While the systems weren't efficient, at least most families had one breadwinner in a single job with optional overtime and a home they could afford to rent or pay the mortgage on, and if the partner worked it was usually part-time to pay for a car or holiday or extension or batch. Not both working multiple jobs just to pay for food, clothes, dentist bills, and other necessities.
Lovely writing. Takes me back to the late 70s at the Royal Oak in Wellington with the lively public bar downstairs frequented by wharfies gang members and Cuba St night club workers contrasting with the faux opulence of the lounge bar upstairs
Great article, David. I also worked for that duopoly, on the Lion side, after 15 years managing bars and restaurants in various locales. I also should have avoided such easy access to booze, but persevered (another 11 years after 4 at Lion) until I was almost 50 when I had a good hard look at myself and realised that I was doing nobody any good, be that customers, bosses or myself.
The culture at Lion was one of the most extraordinary things I've ever witnessed. Incredible blokeism, out and out alcoholism and excess, a huge tick for anything sexist or sexual. They tell me it's changed, I level them with my squinty eye of cynicism.
Not even the bungey/bungie/bungy (??) now, David. Gone, no address.
I remember this hotel too. And a tale of when they came to demolish it, the demolishers discovered to their horror that it was reinforced concrete, and wouldn't just break up and come down. There are still scraps of it with the rusty bits poking out around the perimeter of the carpark.
Drinking ain't what it used to be, eh? One Christmas I went to the Vidcom party quite late. The food was gone, but still plenty of booze. I drove home, one eye closed so I could focus on the white line at the edge of the motorway. It quite astonishes me now that I did that without a qualm.
The bar in the breweries, liquor on tap, free all day & night. Its a wonder they didnt have more "safety incidents".
Feilding the brown demon. Guessing there are few in Godzown who have not been impacted by that industry. Great writing
I thought Deep in the Heart of Taxes was a clever reference to the accent. But no. I know so little of life. :)
Ahh you've brought it all back. I was working for Brierley Property when the Royal got demo'ed. Bit ashamed to say what pack of vandals we were.
Great yarn, thanks. Love your Sunday bits tbh. Did you have anything to do withe the lounge bar of the Riv? That was remade into a wonderful little bar for a short while back then...
I respect this story exemplifying the time when we stop attempting to fit in to what others want, learn to be fully ourselves and find it so much more rewarding. It took me even longer.
Took me longer too
So relateable! The Royal International with its own dignified air of quiet savoir faire. In contrast to the Victoria across the road with it's mighty and inimitable 'Miti' later or before can't remember at the Tap Room in Elliot St. Where her fist was iron needs be and otherwise a raucous "Hello Dear!" Oh the days!
An historian as well!
Relatable as always David.
What a crackingly good read. What a world we lived in.
We used to have liquid lunches in the 80's at the Royal , a beautiful old hotel such a waste.