Linton, life of the party

Linton Jones had quite a severe stutter. Comments in his military records confirm this, as well as family members. In his medical exam notes the comments read: "Satisfactory except that candidate has a fairly bad stutter" and "Very keen, but stutters badly".

According to my Grandmother, Margaret Jones, Linton and his older brother Innes were very good singers. They sang together at local dances at the Havelock Hall.

She wrote down a story that a family friend told her about Linton:

Les Parrant told me how he and Linton went to the Okaramio Hotel one evening. Someone said "Give us a song, Linty", so Linton sang and presently the entire bar was silent listening in awe. Afterwards someone said "Caruso ain't got nothing on him". Caruso was a famous Italian tenor of the day.

Below (from left): A. Joan Kennington, R. Linton Jones, Nola Kennington.

In letters home while Linton was in England, he often wrote of how much he missed home, and how they were going to have one hell of a party when he did!

June, 1942

'When we leave to come home, I am going to get a big oar, and row over the side for more speed. There is no ship built yet, that will be able to bring me back to New Zealand fast enough. What a celebration! You had all better get in good trim, and we'll have a real Jones party, with Malcom, Sandy, Old Eric, Charlie, and all the others. You had better get your cheque book handy, Dad.'

On his way to England, Linton had a night out on the town with his mates, in Panama.

He describes this very vividly and humorously in a letter home in June, 1942.

When Linton wrote this, they had been stuck on board the ship for weeks without seeing land, and when they got to Panama, they weren't allowed leave straight away, and had to wait a whole day and night before they were given leave.

Linton's letter:

'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 round 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, as 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 off 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 our journey.'

Above: Linton (right), man on left unknown.

If anyone reading this has any additional information about Linton, please fill out the contact form below. I would love to hear from you.