John Curtin is in the news – Albo gave him a mention. Peter FitzSimons’ Anzac Day column today repeats the yarn that in the middle of the tense ‘cable war’ with Winston Churchill in February 1942, Curtin went missing and ‘Frederick Shedden organised for messages to be put up on screens in the city’s theatres around Canberra, broadly saying, if you are the Prime Minister, phone home’.
This legend is both intriguing and dubious sounding. John Edwards is not convinced about it in John Curtin’s War. He mentions it only as an endnote: ‘Though it has often been written, I am unconvinced of the accuracy of the story that Curtin was lost in the hills, and Shedden had advertisements for him placed in Canberra cinemas. It has the ring of a good yarn, especially the cinema ads, but is unlikely.’ (location 8195)
David Day, who tends towards credulity, includes the story in his 1999 biography, referencing a JCPML lecture by David Black. Black himself quoted the yarn from Shedden himself – frustratingly, no reference provided; likely either an interview or Shedden’s unpublished book:
We were trying to find Curtin because a decision had to be taken and a reply had to go back to Churchill. We even put messages on the screens in Canberra theatres searching for him. In he came about midnight. He had been walking around Mount Ainslie. He knew that he had to make the decision, that he was not going to get support from anyone.
To my surprise, Google yielded a second independent memory of the event – a quote from John Burton, then head of Dept of External Affairs, and interviewed in 1995, included in the recent biography by Pamela Burton and Meredith Edwards:
Curtin could not be found. He went ‘missing’ about an hour before midnight — the deadline for sending the crucial cable — ‘the one telling Churchill we wanted our troops back’, John recalled. When Curtin suffered sleepless nights, he would customarily pace the grounds of the Lodge, but he was nowhere to be found. ‘We sent messages … there were only two cinemas in Canberra then we sent messages and put it on the screen: “Is the Prime Minister there?” No responses.’ Curtin walked in just before midnight. He had been walking around Mount Ainslie contemplating, drafting words in his head. He asked for a stenographer, and rapidly dictated a short cable to Churchill demanding that the troops be sent straight back. It was a step in the direction of Australia developing an independent foreign policy, one which John would continue to urge was in Australia’s best interest.
It’s possible that in the intervening 53 years Burton’s memory was mixed up with a legend originating from Shedden. But it’s at least equally possible the story is true and a notice was placed in Canberra’s two cinemas. More research is required. I’m meant to be in 1928 today, not 1942, but duty calls. Neither Day nor Edwards seem to have traced the legend back to its sources; it’s indicative of the kind of gaps I’m finding that make another biography worthwhile.
Nathan Hobby, a biographer in Perth 
John Curtin was exactly what we needed at that hellish time and his service to us, in my view, greatly shortened his life. Amusing though it is to know (if true) that political minders were as clueless then as now, I do feel for Curtin. Would one ever be more in need of solitude and reflection that when trying to hold up our safety in Australia against a dismissive ‘mother’ country? Having one’s staff advertise to the world that one had gone AWOL? Infuriating.
it is so lovely hearing these snippets of your work on a beloved leader. 🙏
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Thank you Lizzie. Good point – if the story is true, he would have been quite annoyed! I think the telemovie tries to capture the moment with Shedden admonishing Curtin that ‘we have to know where you are at all times!’.
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This is fascinating, Nathan! In a way, I hope the story is true because it’s amusing as well as interesting. I’m sure you’ll get to the bottom of it, knowing your skills as a biographer. Denise
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Thank you Denise!
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