Some Alcoholic Memories of Suva

(By Na Vokai)

IN the good old prewar days in the Islands —when there was always an assured supply of beer, and a man could raise a thirst and the wherewithal to quench it —some amusing stories were told along the Beach. The following are a few tales of what must now be almost a forgotten era in Suva.

Scene: The bar of a well-known Suva hotel, one evening about half-time at the movies. Two well-known brothers and a friend imbibing—two of them feeling playful. Finishing their drinks, the trio walked through the door of the crowded lounge and toward the street.

Then, ranging themselves one on either side of their friend, the brothers each solicitously took an arm, loudly assuring their quite sober mate that he would be all right—they would see him home. “Now take it easy, Frank, we’ll get a taxi,” was the tenor of their remarks to their highly indignant friend, who made matters worse by struggling to free himself, at the same time abusing the humorists in undertones.

It took Frank quite a long time to con vince some of the occupants of the lounge, who afterwards chipped him about being “tight,” that he had been cold sober—even then, some did not believe him. ♦ * * THEN there was a rather well-known character, an employee of one of the big firms, who, during the Christ mas season, had a couple too many, at luncheon.

When it was time to return to work, he ’phoned his chief with the remark: “It’s Blank here, Mr. -—. Now some call it ’flu, and some say they’ve got dengue: but the fact of the matter is, I’m drunk, and I won’t be at work this afternoon.”

This engaging frankness so tickled his chief that the celebrant got away with it. * * * ON one occasion, when an important football match was being played in New Zealand, a party of “sports” gathered in a Suva friend’s home one Saturday afternoon to listen to the broadcast. To add to the ioy of the occasion they had a good supply of home brew on hand. During the afternoon, one gentleman took more than was good for him and, in due course, he disposed of it in the backyard. A little later, another member of the party found a set of den tures in the yard. The first-mentioned “sport” had left the narty by then, for home and bed, and Bill, the finder, care fully put the dentures in his pocket for safety.

Late on Saturday night the toothless one was dashing around Suva, looking for Bill, whom he had been told had his teeth. By the time he found him, Bill himself was a bit the worse for wear, and could not find the missing plate in his pocket, or for that matter, anywhere else.

Came Sunday morning; and, after a loathsome breakfast of soft tack, there was a frantic and very abusive young man still looking for his teeth.

It was not until Bill had occasion to call at his place of business, later in the day, that he found the dentures in a drawer, where he had placed them for safe keeping some time on Saturday night. It was fortunate; for by this time the dentures’ desperate owner was fol lowing him around with an axe. * * * ARREST of a European for a liquor offence was a comparatively rare occurrence in Suva; and, when it did happen, it was usually a case of: "No appearance, your Worshin,” followed by formal evidence and forfeiture of bail.

Now, in those days, the Fiji ordinance only made provision for “drunk and dis orderly”—there was no plain “drunk” sec tion.

Came the day when the name of a citizen was duly called, and the usual formalities complied with. The constable gave evidence that defendant had been found under the influence, asleep on the Triangle garden plot.

The prosecuting officer was about to ask for conviction and forfeiture of bail when the magistrate, probably with a twinkle in his eye, nonplussed the constable by asking where the disorderly conduct came in.

The upshot was that the case was ad journed till later in the day for the pro duction of evidence of disorderliness.

When this was not forthcoming, it was dismissed by an RM who held that, as the ordinance stood, there was no offence disclosed in getting drunk and going to sleep in a public garden. ♦ * * ARRIVAL of friends among the ships’ companies of regular liners on the Pacific run was often a cause for some form of celebration, and one such nearly disrupted a very elaborate amateur theatrical show.

Music for the production had been scored and was to be played by a brilliant pianist, who was very much one of the lads of the village. First performance went well; but the next day one of the Matson liners arrived and the pianist met an officer friend who was celebrating his birthday. One thing led to another, and

at 5 p.m. the local lad was fast asleep in his pal’s cabin, just behind the bridge of the liner. The Matson boats pulled out with the regularity of clockwork at 5 p.m., and a little after five our friend came to, to find himself in strange sur roundings.

Ambling out, he was amazed to find himself on the liner’s bridge confronting an irate American master-mariner who wanted to know what the hell he, a pas senger, was doing there.

On being informed that the visitor was not a passenger, the master-mariner was abusive. By that time, Suva was slip ping into the background, as the ship approached the Passage.

Frantic signals brought the harbour master’s launch to the rescue, and, roundly cursed, the still-fuddled cele brant was decanted ashore.

It was getting close to curtain-time for the second night of the show when the stage manager discovered that the pianist was missing and what had happened to him.

There followed much rushing around in taxis, making of black coffee, enforced cold showers and assisted dressing before the pianist was placed in front of his in strument in the Town Hall and told to play. The first act, he afterwards said, was a struggle, but after he warmed up he sailed through in good style. But he was angry and indignant when he found that the stage manager had given orders at the performers’ bar, at the rear, that the pianist was not to be served with any thing stronger than lemonade before the final curtain. * * * ANOTHER Suva lad got himself into an embarrassing situation when, in the course of a late afternoon ses sion, he reached the helpless stage of drunkenness. A friend picked him up and decided to take him home and put him to bed. The friend got the happy one into a taxi, all right, but then ensued an argument as to destination.

“I live at Lami,” claimed the drunk.

"No, you don’t! I know where you live,” said the other, “and I’m taking you there.”

After further argument the friend be came impatient and neatly laid his charge out with a swift one to the jaw.

Off sped the taxi to a town boarding house, and the good Samaritan lugged the drunk inside and put him to bed.

What the friend did not know was that the drunk recently had changed his abode and in fact did live at Lami, but a young lady who came home later was more than surprised to find an amiable but fuddled gent in her bed. Fortunately, she knew him and his habits well, and took it in good part. * * * THERE have been many good stories told of missing bottles: but one of the brightest originated at a Satur day night party at Suva Point.

One of the party passed out in the course of the evening, and a close friend noticed that he had a full bottle of Johnny Walker in his pocket.

Thinking that it might come to some harm, or that someone might steal it, he lifted it himself and took it home.

On Sunday morning he phoned the owner on some pretext, and was imme diately regaled with the tale of “some lousy so-and-so who pinched my bottle of wads.”

Full of sympathy, the listener invited the bereaved one down for a drink.

The bottle had gone round a couple of times before the guest was informed that he was drinking his own whisky.

A notice in the Papua-New Guinea Gazette of March 2 declares Wewak (New ’ Guinea) to be a first port of entry for overseas vessels.

At the Brisbane “Courier-Mail” floral display, held on March 15, a shrub called the Calitrapis or “King’s Crown” from New Guinea was exhibited. Its rarity and beauty evoked the admiration of numerous admirers.

Chandar Pal, a resident of Raiwaga, Navua, Fiji, says that he is seeking “pen friends” in the other Pacific Islands and in Australia and New Zealand.