Mock wars and stirring words at queen carnivals
In the March 8, 1918, edition of the Manawatū Standard, members of the Western Grenadiers were advised that if they wanted to be photographed with a tank, they were to assemble outside the Soldiers’ Club at 2.00 the following day.
Princesses were specially requested to be present.
It was wartime, the last year of a war that had dominated Western Europe for almost four years – but who were the Western Grenadiers and where did princesses fit in?
More to the point, what would a tank be doing in Palmerston North’s Cuba St?
When the first of Manawatū’s Gallipoli wounded arrived on a hospital train on July 1915, the railway station was packed, and there were scenes “unprecedented in the history of the town”.
By 1918, 12,000 New Zealand servicemen had been killed and the 28,000 wounded had been returned in regular batches on hospital ships. Everyone knew of men who had either died or returned home permanently disabled.
War had consumed society to the point where few other subjects mattered, and “doing one’s bit” was as obligatory for civilians as it was for soldiers.
“This is not as other wars,” a 1918 Manawatū Times editorial read. “We fight in terms of our life … Each army is the fist of a militant civil society.”
Raising money for sick and wounded soldiers became a way in which civilians could play a part in the struggle. Patriotic societies were formed throughout Aotearoa to support soldiers and their families, as well as to raise money for war-related causes.
The most effective way of doing this was to hold a queen carnival. Queen carnivals were fundraising extravaganzas, particularly popular in New Zealand and Australia throughout the first half of the last century.
The idea was to boost public participation and motivation by dividing a town or district into teams which competed against each other to raise the most money. The prize was the mock coronation of your team’s queen candidate at a lavish ceremony, usually held in the town hall.
From 1915 onwards, queen carnivals took place regularly across the country. Until 1916, they seem to have been jolly affairs.
The various teams would stage concerts, sports events and hold art unions [raffles].
Apart from war-themed songs being sung at concerts, they were not unlike similar carnivals held to raise money for local facilities such as a community hall or sportsground.
But as the war ground on, carnivals became campaigns in which everyone was expected to participate.
A Church Army fundraising advertisement in the Evening Standard in 1918 made this point clearly: “If a soldier at the front refuses to do his duty – he’s shot! Have you neglected to do your duty to the soldiers who are fighting and suffering for you? To do something for our soldiers – to pay something – is not charity – it is your plain duty.”
By now, fundraising campaigns had become complex enough to require a stage manager. The most accomplished of these was William Lints, a Taranaki barber and gymnast turned showman.
War was good for business and by the end of 1915, he was running patriotic queen carnivals as far afield as Western Australia.
Catching the spirit of the time, he transformed the queen carnival format into a make-believe war in which each competing team was an “army”. The winning army’s princess would be crowned queen at the end of hostilities.
When in early 1918 the Manawatū Patriotic Society decided to run a major fundraising event in aid of the sick and wounded, Lints was the obvious choice of organiser. The campaign was to be called “Final Battle’’. Lints began by conscripting the local elite. This network of wealthy men gave Lints the framework on which to build his campaign.
The district was divided into 10 armies, each fancifully named – Pohangina Rangers, Ashhurst Pioneers, Fitzherbert Light Horse, Kairanga Lancers, Manawatū Hussars, Eastern Guards, Northern Fusiliers, Southern Bombardiers, Kelvin Grove Camel Corps – and Western Grenadiers. Lints kept in touch with the committees of each army in a sixcylinder Buick donated by the Manawatū Flaxmillers’ Association.
The car, worth £500, was to be the star prize in an art union that ran throughout Final Battle. Other prizes were racehorses, a section worth £200, livestock, silverware and even a wedding cake, all of which had been donated. Some 180,000 tickets were sold throughout the lower North Island, netting £8250.
Much had to be done before the armies could take to the field. Lints met with councillors from the surrounding counties, along with groups of farmers and businessmen.
Donations were pledged for the art union and organisational support offered. Wives were conscripted by default. A ladies’ committee was formed and the Women’s National Reserve charged with making badges for each of the armies.
These were sold at rates ranging from £125 for a colonel to 1 shilling for a private.
Hostilities began at 2pm on February 27 with a grand parade of the 10 armies from Te Marae o Hine/The Square. Each army entered at least one decorated car and the Manawatū Times expected “every man, woman and child” to be wearing their army badge.
Absentees would “be classed as shirkers”. After 3½ years of war, words like this came easily. Support for a carnival had become a civilian’s declaration of loyalty, as important as a soldier’s oath of allegiance to the king.
Daily newspapers were filled with ‘‘military’’ notices. A Western Grenadiers’ meeting agenda read: “A GREAT ATTACK on the enemy TODAY at dawn. Many casualties on the side of the enemy. Terrific shelling at close range at 8.30 by Badge Brigade and Art Union Sharpshooters, lasting till midnight. The slain will be enormous. Our generals are confident of victory.”
Events proliferated by the day. The Eastern Guards ran a casino and masked ball, the Western Grenadiers put on a “Monster Swimming Carnival’’ and the Kelvin Grove Camel Corps staged a concert and dance at its ‘‘oasis’’ in the Bunnythorpe community hall.
Some armies sold tickets to mock courts martial, the most common charge being desertion.
The star of Final Battle was the Western Grenadiers’ “tank”. It would have been built on a frame attached to a car and covered with canvas or cardboard. A pair of “cannon” firing blanks added to the drama.
The idea clearly came from Britain’s Tank Bank, a campaign to sell war bonds with the help of six tanks that toured the major cities, drawing huge crowds.
When ‘‘peace’’ was declared on March 18, Final Battle had raised more than £30,000 for Manawatū’s sick and wounded fund – over $7 million in today’s money.
The armies and their decorated vehicles gathered at the showgrounds for speeches and the crowning of the winning army’s princess.
Among the speeches, “Minister of War’’ and one time postmaster JH Stevens delivered a passionate proclamation of peace, which must have touched many hearts: “Join hands, ye nations of the earth, and make henceforth a mighty trust for peace – a great, enduring peace that shall stand the shocks of time and circumstance – and every land shall bless you and shall never cease to bless you for that glorious gift of peace.”
A mock war might be a bit of fun, but in early 1918, a mock peace would have been hard to bear.