Linton on the town

Above: Linton Jones in Wellington, 1941

Linton loved going out dancing or to a movie. He wrote about his excursions often, in his letters home. Someone he went to a lot of dances with, was his cousin Gwen Jones.

In the letter below, Gwen talks about Linton coming to Wellington for a visit.

13/11/1941

Dear Family,

First of all I must be very formal and thank you for your happy message on my birthday. The signature "The Bluffs" made me very homesick as I imagined you all sitting 'round the big blue table. Your telegram came with ten others to the office, and such fun I had trying to open them all at once as each batch arrived - with the girls hovering 'round to see what had been written. Had Mum and Dad been here, my day would have been complete.

Linton rang me on Tuesday and again last night - he is coming for the weekend as you probably know. I will meet the four train as I did last time. Geraldine Hillman - a friend of Linton's - is boarding over here with us now, and methinks the "wee dark man" is rather pleased at the prospect of taking her out. I will go along to chaperone so you need have no fear for your son. Last time we all went to the pictures.

Colleen rang me tonight to tell me that Linton was sleeping at their place on Saturday night. This I knew perfectly well, but as Lint and I staged a wee conspiracy over this weekend, I did my best to convey the necessary surprise.

Well Dears, must close this now,

Lots of love to you all,

Gwen.

Linton describes a wild and amusing night out in Panama in a letter home in June, 1942, while on the M.V. Melbourne Star ship traveling to England...

The weather since leaving New Zealand has been fairly good, although fairly warm in the tropics. At first we sailed in a more or less southerly direction, and crossed over toward the coast of South America well below the Chatham Islands. This part of the trip was very depressing as we saw no sign of land for two and a half weeks, then we came up the South American Coast and arrived at Panama.

We berthed in Colon, at ten o'clock that night, and were immediately given leave until eight the next morning. Unfortunately most of the shops were shut, but the night life of the place was just about to begin. Unfortunately again, they would only accept American currency, and our supplies of Oscar were hopelessly inadequate. We all thought we would be able to cash our English notes there, but were sadly disillusioned. However, we managed, although if I had had the money, I could have sent you some lovely things from there, as we got two hours leave the next day and the shops had some lovely goods.

Dressed in our khaki, for it was too hot to wear our uniforms, we walked timidly down the gangway. As each one touched land again, we seemed to become demented, and all frisked around in circles, like sheep that have been shut in a shed.

After being inspected to see we were all neat and tidy, we pushed off, and soon arrived at the wharf gates, where we had to produce our shore passes and things. First of all we went to the Y.M.C.A. and bought cigarettes - they are of the best American brands and cost only fourpence for twenty.

Suitably equipped with smoking materials, we next proceeded to see the town. Actually it is a filthy place, and possesses a most unpleasant aroma. About every second shop is a saloon bar, these sell every kind of liquor you can possibly imagine, and seem to do a roaring trade. Why, I can't think, because there are literally hundreds of them.

There were five in our particular party - Jack Pettit, Gordon Forbes, Ralph Lane, Jock Horn, and myself. After a good look 'round we went into a shop to buy a soft drink. The proprietor, a Spaniard, could not speak English, and had a tall dark man act as interpreter for him. We got chatting to him, and he invited us to see his shop, which consisted of a very nice saloon bar.

We enquired the price of a bottle of American whisky, as Jack Pettit wanted to buy a bottle. As we were unfamiliar with American whisky, the proprietor suggested we should all try a glass at his expense. Now as you all know, I don't like whisky, but before I could even protest, he had five icy cold glasses laid on the counter. Jack Pettit bought a bottle, and feeling as though we owned land we started off, presumably to go home.

Although there are plenty of taxis there, there are also many conveyances drawn by small sleek ponies, not unlike the old "hansom" cabs. Jack Pettit and I were breaking our necks for a ride in one, but could not persuade the others to come with us, so finally climbed in on our own. The driver turned up the wicks in the lamps, cracked his whip, and we were off. Every time we came to a corner, he pressed a series of pedals on the floor, which worked an arrangement of bells, which in effect, were very similar to a multi toned car horn.

After a few hundred yards we came to a standstill, and the driver got out and lowered the hood, giving us better visibility. Soon we were clicking along again, and Jack and I bowed right and left to the crowds, much the same as royalty. God, but I have never laughed as much in all my life, particularly when the old boy rang the bells!

After we had been riding for some time, we saw in one of the streets the "Monte Carlo" nightclub, and wonder of all, white women, the first we had seen since leaving home. We immediately ordered the driver to take us back to the other three, and when we told them what we had seen, they decided to come back too. I asked the driver of the "Victoria" if he could take five, and he said "Yes, but one would have to sit beside me." We made Gordon sit up beside him, and we all piled in the back. The springs went down and the mudguards touched the wheels, but eventually we were all in.

Again the driver cracked his whip, and the little pony stretched out like ben on a stump, but she managed to start it, and so we moved off to the Monte Carlo, with Jack and I acknowledging the greetings of an admiring crowd. The first corner we came to, the driver failed to ring the bells, and as we wanted the other lads to hear them, I had to admonish him.

After that, we couldn't stop him ringing the damned things, and we swept through the town like a miniature fire engine, with Gordon looking most uncomfortable and afraid, clinging to his perch beside the driver. The rest of us were howling, smiling, and raising our hats to the crowd, while all the while the little pony padded softly along, and the wheels scraped on the mudguards. Soon we arrived at the Monte Carlo, and having paid the driver, proceeded within.

We found ourselves in a huge room, with a dance floor in the centre, and tables and chairs and a very elaborate bar, round the outside. The whole building was dimly lit, and a waiter coming for our order told us the big show was timed to start in a few minutes (one o'clock). We ordered gin and lemon, which was supplied to us in small glasses, with a glass of ice to mix it with.

Soon the lights went even lower, and a large band, hitherto unseen, started to play, and the show was on. For an hour we were entertained with dancing, singing, hulas, and efforts by very (VERY!) scantily clad maidens. And then dancing was started by all concerned.

The place was attended by members of all the services, but mostly by officers of the U.S. Navy. We were introduced to a very nice American lady doctor, from the big military hospital there, and after a couple more iced gins, we decided to tread a measure, and what a measure!

The band wailed and emitted strange sounds, as we capered giddily about the floor, but it was all good fun, particularly after nearly three weeks enforced idleness. We stayed there until four thirty, and then as the crowd started to dwindle off, we wended our way back to the ship. What fun we could have had if you, and Jenny Wren, and Malcom had been there. However it was a diversion, and we quite enjoyed it.

Later that morning we were given two hours more leave, when we were able to do some shopping with our limited funds. I bought some stockings for you and Jenny Wren, which I will post with this letter. They are good ones, and they told us that they had received their last shipment of silk stockings until after the war, so you had better get hold of all you can.

At two o'clock that afternoon we pulled out from the wharf, and lay at anchor in the stream all night, leaving at seven thirty next morning, on the start of the remainder of the journey.

Above: Linton Jones on right, man on left unknown, 1942.