Social work pioneer learned about hardship in Depression
Social worker b August 31, 1921 d September 2, 2018
He requested a small funeral with a few of his closest friends and family in his parish church, but hundreds filled the Transitional Cathedral in Christchurch to farewell one of the pioneers of social work in New Zealand.
John Richard Laurence Fry, who died aged 97, spoke and cared for people who struggled to do so for themselves, never losing his love for the job. Many of those people turned out to thank him at a service on September 5.
In a joint eulogy, his daughters Rachel and Juliet said their father showed courage in his convictions, never shied away from hard work and showed ‘‘irrepressible enthusiasm’’ in everything he did.
He was born to a father who was vicar of the large Wellington parish of St Mark’s, and his first introduction to hardship came as his family helped people through the Great Depression.
In an account of his life, Their Stories – Our History, Fry said that from childhood he was ‘‘very familiar with problems of people in real poverty’’.
‘‘I was very acquainted with unemployment, the associated domestic crises
. . . our home from time to time included a young single girl waiting around for her baby to arrive in some sort of sheltered environment.’’
Illness prevented him from joining the armed forces, but he served in the merchant navy and worked on ships transporting food to European and American troops at Normandy for the D-Day landings in 1944.
After a period volunteering at the Flying Angel Missions to Seamen in Wellington, he enrolled in a diploma in social science at Victoria University, the country’s first professional social work course.
He started his career with the child welfare division of the Department of Education, working out of Wellington, Auckland, Whakatane and Ohope, in the Bay of Plenty. After renewing a childhood friendship with Ruth Diana Neligan, a distinguished educator and writer, the pair married in 1956, and had three children – Rachel, Juliet and David.
Fry became Whakatane’s first district child welfare officer, working with remote Ma¯ ori communities, then moved to Timaru to open a new Anglican Social Services office. In 1972, he was appointed president of the New Zealand Association of Social Workers, of which he became a life member.
In a tribute, social work and human services professor Ken Daniels said Fry’s commitment to social services was a ‘‘natural expression of his Christian faith’’.
‘‘He never lost that first love . . . he was working to improve and enhance the environment and communities so that children and families would benefit,’’ Daniels said.
His daughters’ eulogy said: ‘‘He was not just a carer but also a campaigner and innovator, encouraging the government and employers like the Christchurch City Council to change policies and tackle root causes of social problems.’’
Work was always at the forefront of his mind, and family holidays from Timaru were often interspersed with stops in Temuka, Winchester or Ashburton to make ‘‘one last call’’ from a phone box. His final move was to Christchurch in 1973 to become the first community adviser for the Christchurch City Council, establishing the community services division.
Outside of social work, the ‘‘extraordinary’’ array of name tags he collected over the years showed some of his volunteering record, his daughters said. He was a dedicated member of Toc H, an international Christian movement, and involved with Civil Defence, the Social Equity and Wellbeing Network, the Prostate Cancer Support Group and the St Luke’s Centre, a social club for people who experience the effects of mental illness. He was a volunteer guide at Christ Church Cathedral until the earthquakes.
A Volunteer Recognition Award was granted in recognition of his ‘‘outstanding contribution’’. He was granted life membership to the Council of Social Services in Christchurch, appointed to the Te Kahui board, and was a life member of the Trust Board of Anglican Care.
His sense of justice was strong, marching against the Springbok tour in 1981 and once knocking on the door of the president of the rugby union and asking him to come out and see the scale of the protest.
Retirement did not slow him down, and at 80 he revisited his love of cycling, riding his bike around the central city and Hagley Park until well into his 90s.
‘‘[We] will be sustained by his vivacity, his kindness, his generosity, his purposefulness and staunchness,’’ his daughters said.
He is survived by his three children, two grandchildren, and several nieces and nephews. – By Maddison Northcott