A few thoughts on Dad by Brian Taylore, his son.

These are isolated and in no particular order.

22.8.10

Dad was a very compassionate man, always willing to help people especially those who were not well off. I discovered quite early on in life that he has been acting for people as quite a young lawyer without charging them at all or at best very little. Being a strong socialist he always wanted to help people who were not well off. He believed in equality for all people.

The first I can remember about dad was being woken up in the morning. When we were living out on the Taieri Plains (Janefield) almost on the dot of 7.00 when the horn when at the Mosgiel Wollen Mills to get everyone to come to work, dad would come into our bedrooms and literally “whistle us up!” This consisted of about 5 or 6 whistles use for calling dogs over. Not that we were ever thought of as dogs, it was his way of making our wake up fun. The trouble was it carried on into my late teens and early university days when we moved to 204 Highgate Dunedin. This was increasing more annoying after I had had a long night out on the town. Sometimes he would receive a pretty sharp response from me, however dad carried on with the practice always in good humour. I think it was more of an ongoing joke as I got older. It would also happen even when I had a friend to stay over.

Being a pragmatist, dad thought about having me baptised, but he knew he could not go along with the idea that I should be brought up in the religious belief of the Presbyterian church. He went to see the minister and asked if he would be able to modify the service so that all reference to God was eliminated, (however he always accepted the sentiments of a young person being raised as a caring compassionate person). In 1949 this was an impossible idea, so dad dropped the whole plan.

I can remember when my dear sister came on the scene. Dad loved her dearly, he was very pleased that Suzanne and I got on so well together – and still do. This was a very important part of his family thinking, people getting on well with each other and giving total support. I remember being taught this from a very early age.

I had my jobs to do at home from when I was quite young. This included keeping the hedge in front of the property trim and later the large macracarpa hedge along the south side of the property. We use to build “nesting” places in the hedge. On a few occasions we would hide in there, so that dad had to find us to come in for our evening meal. We would remain silent and dad would go along with the game, but he always knew where we were. We couldn’t fool him!

I do remember being on a strict vegetarian diet until I was 5 years old. This was my mother’s idea to overcome the asthma that I had from birth. I don’t think that dad really believed that this would work, but being dad he always kept an open mind and supported mum’s idea. Incidentally it seems as if it might have had a positive affect, I have not had asthma since.


Same thing when I was a competitive swimmer and in order to increase my size and strength mum organized for me to go to Tom Bolton’s private gym. This was always around 5.0 pm so poor old dad had to do a lot of extra running around after work to pick me up to get home. He always did it with good grace and total support.

I was a person who struggled at school. After the results of school certificate came out and it showed that I had failed. Instead of chastising me for not working hard enough (as that was the case), he simply said “If you would like to continue back at school, we will support you!” That was the greatest incentive and it stimulated me to work harder than ever. I finally got there and it was always with wonderful support from mum and dad. Nobody could ask for more.

I recall when in my first year at university I came home a bit drunk. I was creeping up the stairs when my mother called out. I though I would act as normal as possible so walked into my parant’s bedroom, turned on the light, shook them each by the hand and said good night. I turned and walked straight into the open door, almost knocking myself out. Dad got up help me into bed without a word and nothing was mentioned about the incident in the morning. I think he thought I had had punishment enough! All he had was a wry smile.

When I was training the runners I was coaching, we would spend two weeks out at Karitane (just north of Dunedin), over the Christmas – New year period. We got permission to mark out a training running track at Cherry Farm, this involved dad in calculating the length of the straits and the circumference of the curves for us so that we could scratch it out on the grass. Of course, when we were training, we needed a time keeping and who was that? Dad, of course. He never missed a day. This included taking us to the track meets on Boxing day January 2. He was always there for us, taking an interest in a sport he had never done, caring deeply about how the whole group ran - not just me. Those were great days.

Dad was a great anticipator. I remember a particular time at the funeral of my mother. We were waiting for the service to begin and I became very upset at seeing my mother’s coffin. Without looking at me dad, standing beside me, plunged his hand in his jacket pocket and pulled out a clean handkerchief, as if he knew that was exactly what would happen to me at the last minute before the service began.

The Otago Daily Times cost One Penny.

Warrington McCarter Taylor born 4th July 1905.


Birth notice

Taylor to James and Louisa Taylor on July the 4th, a son


Warrington Mc Carter at 368 George Street. Both well.

This is the story about my Dad. Suzanne Taylor

My earliest memories of my Dad were sitting on his knee while he read stories before bed.
In the morning he was always up early having breakfast and then riding on his bike to the Train Station at Wingatui and catching the train into town to work.

We lived in a 3 acre life style block on the corner of Wingatui and Factory road.

My Dad was always busy we had 3 cows ,lots of hens who roamed where ever they wanted to and a cat called “Toby” to whom we all loved.

We had a hugh vege garden to which both Mum and Dad were always busy in. I have vivid memories of my Father’s large strong body and hands wielding a huge pitch fork bringing compost into the garden and turning it over so effortlessly. We had everything in that garden that you could ever think of.

He built Brian a tree hut high in a hugh tree which over looked one of the paddocks.

Brian also had a play shed with a steering wheel in it.

If he wasn’t busy in the garden, milking cows or at work he would always be mucking around with machinery.

I remember going with Dad almost every Saturday morning to the Garage in Mosgiel while he worked on a motor, or some part of a car. He would ask the mechanic about something he wasn’t sure of and then go and work on it himself.

Sometimes he would take me into the pub on the other corner to get a well earned beer and then we would go home.

Also on a Saturday afternoon he would visit the local Presbyterian Minister in his Manse and they would discuss in length matters pertaining to the Bible and Christianity.

I remember Brian and I going to Sunday School but Mum and Dad were never there.

When I was 4 years old I remember Dad hiring the services of a Draught horse and rider to help with harvesting the hay. It was a long hot day and all the men worked really hard to cut and bale the hay but my most vivid memory was Dad’s huge strong body with the pitch fork all day tirelessly working to get the job done. Mum I think actually making scones for the men working. There may have been a beer at the end of the day too if I remember.


Previous to the Hay making day Brian and I would run and hide in the hay growing and make hiding places even although we were told not to flatten the growing hay.

Often too Dad had to go looking for Duncan our Uncle who would sometimes go for a walk and not come back. We usually found him some where near 3 mile hill but one time he got as far as Wakari which was a long walk.

Renovations were also a big thing in our family life and Dad pulled the whole front of the house out and modernised it to the 50’s look. I have photos of this.

At night I could hear him in the Lounge playing our Player Piano and I would drift off to sleep listening to some piece of Classical music.

In one of our cars that we owned I found a pipe one day and I asked him what it was for. He told me that he was trying to learn how to smoke but couldn’t quite get the hang of it cause it made him cough. Good job he didn’t eh.

In the School holiday’s Brian and I would catch the train into town and go and visit Dad at work. He would buy us a pie for lunch which was a real treat and we would sit in Miss Tate’s room and have lunch. That is where I met George Bell a great friend of my Father’s and they would play the Cello together and that was quite exciting too. Dad also had and played a Recorder he had a big one at work and a smaller one at home. Mum said he wasn’t very good at it but at work there was no criticism.

I only saw my Father cry once when I was a child and that was after a phone call telling him that his Father had died. We all stood together in a circle and had a big hug while Dad cried.

Dad often went away on Business trips to Wellington and he would visit his Father who lived there with his Third wife.
 
Every time Dad came home he would bring us a present and I came to wait impatiently for him to open his suitcase up to see what his gift was going to be .He bought me lots of dolls because he knew I loved them and I think even when I was 12 all I wanted for my Birthday was a doll.

A genius or a crank ? Warrington Taylor. by Iain Galloway

It wasn’t long before I developed a deep respect for his ability, and affection for him and a delight in his charming eccentricities.

Iain Galloway, international cricket commentator and lawyer



Life was always interesting in the company of Warrington McCarter Taylor – always entertaining, often unusual and often surprising and this has not ended with his death! Distress at the news of his passing changed to amazement when his son in law Ross Beckingham rang and told me that Warrington had recorded on tape his various instructions and requests, one of which was that I should speak at his funeral service. I feel greatly flattered and sadly inadequate, particularly as by force of circumstances this brief panegyric has been prepared and is being delivered literally between overs in a cricket match.

Warrington would not have wanted me to recite a curriculum vitae and I won’t do so other than to say that after school days at Otago Boys’ High School he graduated in law at the University of Otago and went on to take a master’s degree. His first job was with Statham, Brent and Anderson and in due course he joined the firm of Sidey and Collier, but for the great majority of his career until he retired a few years ago he practised as sole practitioner giving long and dedicated service to his chosen profession and to his clients to whom he was not only a most competent adviser but a trusted friend and confidant. His long career of almost 60 years was broken only by his service in the Army during the 2nd World War and it was during the War that I first met Warrington. We were the only two officers in a remote coastal battery location and so for some months we spent most of every waking hour in each others company. It wasn’t long before I developed a deep respect for his ability, and affection for him and a delight in his charming eccentricities. He was the only person I ever saw do things completely in reverse. In camp he always dressed fully before shaving and it was fascinating to watch him lathering up immaculate in collar and tie and occasionally wearing his peaked hat, whilst at the other end of the day he always consumed his 2 or 3 sweet sherries after we had had dinner “a deux” in the officers mess and with his sherries he ate a whole 2/6 block of chocolate every evening, these being of the size equivalent to those which I’m assured sell today for $2.30. In Mr Pickwick’s words “The eccentricities of genius”. He accepted the rules and regulations of the Army without question – this was wartime and his country was in peril, but in a matter of fact way he idly described in detail how the accuracy and efficiency of the weapons which were at our disposal could be vastly improved, supporting his claims with some highly complex theoretical calculations. Above all I remember how much the very rare weekend leave meant to him when he would be briefly reunited with his wife Catherine.

After the war, as my law studies had been delayed by five years of war, my father Bryce Thomson could think of no-one better to take me for tutorials and our peacetime association only strengthened my wartime impressions of him as a man of complete integrity and sincerity, outstanding intellectual gifts and blessed with a delightful sense of humour which stood him is such good stead when he faced from time to time rejection of his innovative if unusual plans and principles. Those lawyers here today will well remember how, for a period, Warrington signed all his cheques, trust account and personal, with the proviso that they be paid provided we weren’t all destroyed by nuclear explosion, how every year at our Annual Meeting he would politely seek permission to introduce a motion relating to nuclear disarmament only to be told that it was not relevant to the business of the Annual Meeting, a ruling he always accepted with dignity and good grace. How many of us will forget the settlement of the sale of the final section of a big subdivision in which he acted for the vendor and to which settlement he invited all the solicitors who had acted for the purchasers of other sections in the subdivision over the years and he provided a champagne celebration for us all. He prided himself on drafting the shortest wills and transfers possible – productive furrows on the brows of Justice Department officials – query him they may, fault him they could not. He made a very significant contribution to the Law Society in the field of Property Law and delivered at least one paper to a New Zealand Law Society Conference.

Some who didn’t know him well no doubt regarded him as a crank – I regarded him for what he undoubtedly was, a genius. On one occasion his car brakes developed an extraordinary fault. They worked when going forward, but failed in reverse. Nothing the expert mechanics tried was effective – they were at their wits end. Warrington, knowing nothing about mechanics, completely dismantled the system, fixed the fault and reassembled the brakes. He worked the whole thing out theoretically on paper and then put it into practice.



When I was a member of the Council of the Law Society we tried very hard to persuade him to join us so that he would become President in due course, but her refused – he was essentially a modest, retiring person who never sought publicity but accepted it when it came and no doubt welcomed it if it meant support for one of his particular causes such as the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament or the retention of the trolley buses in Dunedin. Like so many humble and retiring people he was devoted to his family and how marvellous it was that he and his brother, Harold, should meet again last year after 56 years and what unbounded joy it gave them both. His dedicated devotion to Catherine over the later years when she was so frail and the grief of her loss. His pride in his children Suzanne and Brian and their families, Ross and Prue and their children to whom we all extend our deepest sympathy. (Although he took great delight in saying to me “Rugby Football – that’s the game they play on horseback with sticks isn’t it?” We know how closely he followed Brian’s athletic achievements and how proud he was of them.)



Finally, he came to terms with his Church in later years. He was a regular parishioner of Knox Church in his younger days, but his brilliant, searching, questioning, demanding mind could not accept many of its principles and concepts and he became agnostic. I remember his coming to St Paul’s Cathedral not long after Tim Raphael arrived as Dean – a follower of Bishop Robinson the author of “Honest to God”, he advertised his Sunday night sermon as “The Resurrection – Facts or Fiction”. Warrington was there to hear it and as he left he handed his prayer book to me and said “I stood up when you said the Creed, but the only statement I accepted as correct was “he suffered under Pontius Pilate”. He subsequently wrote a most learned treatise in which he claimed that Christ did not die upon the Cross and his argument and evidence based on his interpretation of the Bible is indeed convincing. However, he returned to his Church in later years so grateful for what it had done for his ailing wife – acknowledging and accepting and appreciating its positive aspects and believing that it was the only subsisting force for good.


My tribute to Warrington Taylor has been inadequate – a number of you here today knew him longer and better than I did – George Bell and Bryce Thomson his two oldest friends, the former his partner in lunch hour cello duets in Warrington’s office for many years. The latter the third cyclist on those pioneer motor cycling tours of the South Island, and Miss Tate, loyal and devoted, his entire staff for so long and so much a part of and support for Warrington’s way of life.



One could end by using the familiar cliché “All of us are richer for having known him” for so we are, but I would add to it the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, for I believe that they are singularly appropriate as an epitaph for a gentle man who, when he saw a need did all he could to meet it and if necessary make it a cause. Emerson wrote “To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men – that is the genius”.