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Remember the ‘six o’clock swill’? It’s a miracle if you do!

Apr 24, 2018

Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink! Source: Pexels

Does anyone else recall the ‘six o’clock swill’? My wife, Jacqui, and I had just arrived in New Zealand in 1959, when we first came up against this most unpopular of rituals, one which was much the same in Australia! It was a time of prohibition and it was about the most hated and unwise thing the governments of both countries ever did.

I was an innocent young lad of 24 when we first arrived in Auckland, having been sent out there by my employer in England to start up a studio in the printing factory they had just bought there. During the five years we were there, it was great fun and a marvellous experience that both Jacqui and I enjoyed. The factory was in New Lynn, a district at the far north-west of the city, a district that was dry! This meant that no pubs or any business selling alcohol was permitted.

This was a situation that affected many of the districts of Auckland, because of the laws regarding prohibition. In fact, the nearest place to New Lynn where a beer could be bought was the city centre of Auckland, about 13km from the factory.

I mention all this because I quickly discovered that one of the traditions of some members of the workforce was to make a dash into town on a Friday afternoon, leaving at 4pm when business closed for the weekend, driving in one of the chaps’ cars to one of the city pubs by about 4:25pm, which gave us about 1.5 hours drinking time.

I don’t know what Australian pubs were like at this time, but the Auckland versions were very similar, (to my ‘just-left-England’ eyes), to a public toilet. They had white tiled floor, walls and ceiling, and they hosed the whole place down after closing time. There were no tables or chairs, but a bar at one end where a bloke walked up and down holding something that looked like a petrol pump tap, complete with long hose, shooting beer into any empty glasses and large jugs, which most men were holding.

The place was packed with men, (I guess women were just not allowed in those days), all drinking as fast as they could, to get their quota down before time was called at 6pm. It was not a pretty sight, but I have to confess that, lacking the discretionary powers regarding drinking, I developed later in life, I joined in with gusto. This meant that I, along with my workmates and about a hundred other blokes, was thoroughly pissed when I left to get a bus home. There were similar groups of, mainly drunk, men streaming out of all the many pubs that the city centre boasted, hence the ‘six o’clock swill’.

I really have no idea how I managed to get home on those Friday evenings, but I am quite certain, in retrospect, that I wasn’t too popular on my bus. Not that I was ever ill, or anything like that, but I’d bet I was pretty obnoxious, chatting loudly to everyone and throwing in the odd song for good measure. It makes me curl up with shame even now, especially as before then, and after then, I’d never been an obnoxious or heavy drinker, it was just one of those periods you can go through as a young man, led on by a pretty lively crowd of mates.

At least now, with the hideous results of prohibition long gone, a chap can go out for a leisurely drink, at civilised hours, without causing all that ill will among other members of the public. We no longer have to take our illegal drinks with us to restaurants now either, where owners had little cupboards installed, so the bottles could be hidden if the police came in. Not that the police ever showed up — they were just as much against prohibition as the rest of us.

I hope prohibition is an experience I shall never have to suffer again, it did no good for anyone, especially the brewers, and the streets are much quieter without it!