Bert Kelly, The Australian Financial Review, March 21, 1991, p. 55.
When John Gorton sacked me from his ministry in November, 1969, I began writing the Modest Member column and my “family” — Mavis, my imaginary wife, Fred the farmer and Eccles the economist — were born.
They were not a happy family. Fred had little to be happy about then and has less now and Mavis has always disliked “that wretched Mr Eccles” even after I had told her that economists are usually like that.
We sent the first column to some lesser papers and to the Financial Review which asked for more. So the Modest Member became a weekly column, always appearing in the same place on Fridays. It kept its place until October 1980 when they sacked me.
The Bulletin then took me up and ran the column until the end of May 1985 when they sacked me also.
The Australian then ran the column until the end of January 1987 when they sacked me too. I can modestly claim to have been sacked by the best people in the land.
Nevertheless, I know that my 898 Modest Member and Modest Farmer columns had some influence. Mr Rod Hartley was a well-educated and competent leader of the textile lobby so naturally I devoted a good deal of attention to him.
Then he climbed even higher up the commercial ladder and became an important official in Mr Bannon’s administration in South Australia. Last year, when I heard he was leaving (he had nothing to do with the State Bank) I rang to say goodbye. I thought he would have forgotten me so I introduced myself as the author of the Modest columns. His reaction gladdened me.
Remember you, remember you, I’ll say I remember you. Every Friday, in the same place in the Financial Review, your wretched column would appear. We hated Fridays!
I had a lot of luck along the way. People used to attack me just when I needed help. Mr McEwen was asked by a Country Party hack if he had read and had any respect for the Modest Member column.
He replied with withering contempt: “Yes indeed I have read it and I can think of no-one who has more to be modest about.” That made more people read the column the next week.
When Bob Anderson, the executive officer of ACMA, the secondary industry pressure group in Canberra, was leaving, I rang him to say goodbye and to thank him for all his help. “What do you mean, Bert?” he replied, “I have never helped you as far as I know.”
“But you did Bob,” I replied. “Whenever I was getting ignored you used to attack me. You helped me a lot.” I don’t think I made his day.
Of course, I received genuine encouragement also and, believe me, I appreciated it more than you would realise unless you had been kicking a heavy wet ball uphill and against the wind.
I once wrote a column poking gentle fun at CEDA, a prestige organisation whose members are (or were) inclined to parade rather ostentatiously their dedication to the ideal of private enterprise, then slip round to the minister’s office to ask for another tariff handout.
After I had posted the piece, I waited rather fearfully for the heavens to fall because CEDA members were accustomed to being treated almost with reverence.
Then along came a little postcard, simply quoting from Macaulay’s poem about Horatius defending the bridge across the Tiber: “And e’en the ranks of Tuscany could scarce forbear to cheer.” It was signed, CEDA director.
About three years later I found that the card came from John Brunner then the BHP economist. I hope he doesn’t mind me dobbing him in.
There were many other helpful and cheerful incidents along the way. When I was writing as the Modest Farmer I tried to ingratiate myself with the Government in order to please Mavis who was desperately keen that I be given a diplomatic post.
I think she thought that diplomats were given a State funeral on their demise and then she would have something to look forward to.
I told her that I thought the only post available was the one in Outer Mongolia for which I thought there would be little competition.
But to keep Mavis off my back I kept trying to get myself to Outer Mongolia. Then along came a little postcard with what I took to be Mongolian script, bearing a Mongolian stamp and which had been cancelled in Mongolia. It read: “Come when you can. We await you.”
I have never found out who sent it but I would love to know. I did not know the Financial Review had such a wide readership.
Mavis says that I poked too much fun at people in my columns instead of getting stuck into them. “You have always been a bit too much of a wimp, dear,” she tells me but she never said that when I was younger.