13 Years With Dr. H.F. Verwoerd [1 ed.]

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Fred Bernard was born in Plettenberg Bay. After completion of his schooling, he resolved to train as a teacher. Reservations had been made and his ticket booked, when circumstances brought about achange of pian. He moved to Pretoria, where he was appointed to a post in the Department of Bantu Affairs, Here he was employed until his promotion to the post of private secretary to the late Or. H. F. Verwoerd. at t hat t ime Minister of Bantu Affairs, in 1952. In this post ha rendered thirteen years of uninterrupted service, simultaneously acting as Secretary of the Commission of Bantu Affairs. He experienced the momentous events of one of the most dramatic periods in South African history — the years 1958 to 1981 — from the focal point: the death of Strijdom; the election of Dr . H. F. Verwoard as Prime Minister; Sharpville; the first attempt on Or. Verwosrd's life; the establishment of a R epublic; the significant British Commonwealth Conference of 1981, where Dr. Verwoerd decided that the future of South Africa should be directed along the lines of I ndependence. Of all this. In which Fred Barnard took an active part, this book ls a recount. Mr. Bernard is married and has three children. He lives In Pretoria and holds a post with the Department of Planning. Dust )acket: Oswald Gerber

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YEAiRS

WITH

DR. H. F. VERWOERD

First Published in August 1967 Original title in Afrikaans: 13 JAAR IN.D IE SKADU VAN D R, H . F . V ERWOERD

Translated by: dr. P. de Munnik (Cj 1967 Fred Sarnard Printed in South Africa

by Voortrekkerpers, Ltd., 102 Jorissen Street, Johannesburg

13 YEARS WITH DR. H. F. VER%'OERD

FRED BARNARD

l967 VOORTRKKKERPERS JOHANNESIURG

FOIKWORD

For thirteen short but precious years the author served as private secretary to the late Dr. Hendrik F. Verwoerd. For Fred Barnard it was no ordinary job to a new Minister, a passing phase in the career of a personable and intelligent young civil servant. For him his association with Dr. Verwoerd became one of complete, selfless devotion and dedication, by which he shared, over thirteen priceless years in the life of the South African nation, every moment and mood of the man who went from a highly controversial editorial chair to ministerial office, shaped and implemented South Africa's fundamental policies, and rose to become Prime Minister whose term of office proved to be one of the most richly productive in the destiny of South Africa. Fred Barnard lived with Dr. Verwoerd through the years of toil and tension to the triumph of the latter part of his life

when Dr. Verwoerd straddled the South African and world scene as one of the greatest statesmen of our time. This is no biography of Dr. Verwoerd. A proper evaluation of his life, his work, his ideals, remains to be written — as many no doubt will be in the years to come — but as his intimately personal story of his thirteen years with this illustrious South African, Fred Barnard's memoirs will remain irreplacable in the hterature of the Verwoerd era.

— A. M. van Schoor.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE Following the publication of my personal recoHections of those thirteen ye~ during which I served Dr. Hendrik F. Verwoerd as privatesecretary, I have received numerous requests from many quarters to have these meinoirs published in English as weH. I consider it a great privilege to be able to comply with these requests. Originally, when first approached to record these memoirs in Afrikaans, I was reluctant to do so, feeling that the time was not yet ripe to record conteinporary history, and that in the very nature of the circumstances it was impossible, at this early stage and with the events still so recent, to do justice to a figure of the stature of a Dr. Verwoerd. However, the very favourable reception accorded to the Afrikaans issue has come as a pleasant surprise to me and has taught me once more that private secretaries are liable to be fallible in their judgment! The fact that this modest contribution has been published at aH, is mainly due to the persuasive powers of my good friends. I need hardly say that it would have been an impossible task for me to compress aH my memories, extending over a period of thirteen years, of so dynamic and dominant a figure as Dr. Verwoerd, who led so fuH a life and whose work was so monumental, into one sliin volume. I have therefore not even

attempted to do so. This is a task which I mill leave to future historians, in the hope that they wiH be more competent to perform it than I. In the circumstances, I have merely tried to introduce my readers to Verwoerd, the man — the Verwoerd I knew — and to pause for a brief moment at only a few of the many milestones which he planted so solidly along the long, straight trail blazed by him.

EARL Y ACQUA/%TUBA'CE

"I am an exacting person; and if you find the pace too much for you, you had best back out now," This succinct statement was the "welcome" I received when I presented myself at Room 103, Union Buildings. It was a day in late September, l952, and it was to prove a red-letter one for me. I had never met Dr Verwoerd personally, though of course, I knew hitn well enough by reputation. Who didn' t? Was he not "that extremist editor of Die Transvaler", that "irrespon-

sible Beserker of a Minister of Bantu Affairs whose misconceived pohcles would yet be the fmn of South Africa~" In the Department where I had previously been employ&, he was referred to with horror as "that man" aud his paper, Die Transvaler, was anathema in our office. Nevertheless it was a great day for me, ambitious young public servant that I was, when the then Secretary for Bantu Affairs, Dr W. W. M. Eiselen, summoned me to his office to inform me that I had been appointed private secretary to this controversial and much-feared young Mmister, Dr H. F. Verwoerd. That day, when I met him face to face For the first time, remains very vivid in my mind. I was feeling far from confident.

He rose briskly and stepped from behind his desk, hand extended. He was sparing of his words, but his keen blue eyes, ready smile and finn handshake had an eloquence of their own, creating an atmosphere of cordiality which rapidly dispe!!ed my nervousness. From the very first moment of our meeting I realised that I was face to face with a unique personality, a man altogether unlike other r:en. It was close on seven o'clock at night when, at the end of that first day, we shut the door of No. 103 behind us; nor was that the end of the day's work by any means, for we left the office weighed down under a load of official documents which would occupy us all evening and part of the night as well. "Well, Mr Barnard," remarked Dr Verwoerd as we strode briskly along the long passage towards the south exit of the Union Buildings, "we' re kept pretty busy in this offim, as you may have noticed.. . " (In t h e office Dr Verwoerd invariably addressed me as 'Mr Barnard'.) In those days Dr Verwoerd had a healthy contempt for lifts, and stairs he took in his stride. Two or three flights were nothing to him. As for the pace he set... ! W hen he was in a hurry — and in those days he was never anything else — one had to suit one's pace to his or get left behind, for Dr Verwoerd was no man to wait for anyone. I felt thoroughly pleased with myself that first, night when I got home to my hotel at last and realised that I had actually survived a whole day under that merciless "tyrant". M o re than that: I felt I could even hope to survive the next day as we!I. One of my colleagues soon put a damper on both my hopes and my high spirits, however, assuring me that "by gum, no-one can last long under t/~arman!" "What makes you say that7" I asked, and he explained: "He' ll soon work you to death. He and Eric I.ouw are the same — they make you work till you drop." Far from allowing myself to be discouraged, I considered it a challenge, and I became determined to tackle the job with every ounce of energy and enthusiasm I could muster. I 10

got extremely Httle encouragement, however; and when I heard, a day or two later, that a colleague who had started working for Mr Eric Louw only a few days pre~tously, had already been given marching orders, this did little to raise my spirits. My future in this office looked bleak indeed. Those first days were certanly not easy and I was on tenterhooks aH the time. A series of minor crises which occurred just then did litt!e to smooth matters. Life seemed an interminable sequence of petty dramas, each following the other with almost dreary monotony. Overlapping appointments, angry farmers fu!minating about "aH this p of the natives", tongue-lashiay from indignant matrons with servant problems, threatening letters from harassed politicians near Bantu areas... and many, many more! As a young and inexperienced private secretary I needed aH the tact I possessed and more to cope with these and a multitude of other problems, unaided and as best I could. And while I braved storm and tempest in my once from morning till night, the Minister would sit at his desk, half hidden behind mountains of files, calm, coHected, imperturbable, engrossed in his work, from which he hardly ever looked up. He rarely dictated a letter, preferring to write everything by hand; and Rosa Schoonraad., my only assistant, had to sweat it out at her typewriter hteraHy day and night, typing everything that kept flowing from Dr Verwoerd's pen in a steady, never-ending stream. The situation being what it was, I was not at aH surprised when Dr Eiselen telephoned me early one morning to enquire whether the Minister had remembered "our appointment" and when he might expect him. Although I knew nothing at aH about any such appointment, I hastened to assure Dr Eiselen that the Minister was actuaHy "on his way". IVhat else could I do 7 I couldn't very weH admit to Dr Eiselen that I was not aware of what was happening in my own office, still less could I create the impression that Dr Verwoerd was the sort of person who forgot to keep his appointments! When I entered Dr Verwoerd's office seconds later, he must have read. the consternation on my face, for before I could even open my mouth, he apologised for having neglected to

ampering

inform me about the arrangements which, without my knowledge, he had made with Dr Eiselen. I was subsequently to discover that that was Dr Verwoerd's way — to make appointments casually, in the street or at some social gathering,

without bothering to note them down or to inform his private secretary. Somethinghad to be done, and quiCkl. Only a few moments before the chauffeur had been despatched to some other part of the city, and it was too late now to arrange for an official car to be sent from the Government Garage. Dr Verwoerd was in a hurry and in no mood for argument, "Haven'tyou got a car?" he demanded unexpectedly, I gasped. True, I did possess an object described in the registration papers as a "motor car", but it was hardly the sort of vehicle in which one would cate to convey a Cabinet Minister through the streets of the Capital, A 1938 model, in which I had very recently transported 17 chickens and a bag or two of kraal manure to a farmer friend of mine. What a situation!

"Er , . yes, Doctor, I . . . "let's go, then."

but you see.. . "

With that he was on his way, striding briskly ahead of me through the long passage, and all before I could stammer out any explanation or apology. Where was this nightmare leading me? Out of my job as the Minister's private secretary? lt was a nightmare walk, that short distance from Room 103 to the front of the Union Buildings! Overwhelmed with horrid forebodings, I almost found myself wishing aloud that that walk would never end. Meanwhile Dr Verwoerd chatted unconcernedly about this, that and everything; about the work, about the rain that was needed so badly.. . about every conceivable subject except motor cars. " There she is, Doctor.. . " Desperately I took the plunge and led the way, followed by my distinguished and blithely unsuspecting passenger. "There sheis..." I repeated merely to stress the obvious!

It seemed to me that my poor old rattletrap had never looked so battered and so shabby as at that moment. What a sickening thing to have to happen to one! There I was, in the company of a Minister who was still practically a stranger to me, and there was my old jalopy.. . I was blissfully unaware that worse was still to follow! Dr Verwoerd did not even wait for me to open the door for him. Quite unconcernedly he got into the car. Making the best of a bad job, I got into the driver's seat, slammed the door, and pressed the self-starter. N o reaction.. . ! N e ver a spark.. . ! A flat battery was just about what I needed to make the catastrophy complete. Silence... I looked at the Doctor.„ the Doctor looked at The corners of Dr Verwoerd's mouth twitched, but he said nothing. I had visions of myself crawling back dejectedly to my old job, which I had left so recently to become the Minist er's ~retary. . . "Let me give you a push," said the Minister; and before I could gasp out a protest or indeed say anything at all, he was out of the car. "I . . . Please, Doctor.. . " Thank heavens for the downward slope.. . Th a t , plus the Doctor's muscular exertions, induced my old jalopy to splutter to life after a few yards. I can see that picture before me now, just as it flashed into my rear-view mirror on that day: D r V erwoerd, tall and powerfully built, his hair wind-blown, a broad smile on his face and laughter spilling from his eyes. Then he hopped in beside me. I started to stammer out apologies, excuses, explanations, theories, but the Doctor cut me short. He was enjoying himself thoroughly, and as we chugged along he told me all about other adventures with motor cars that refused to go. I have rarely seen a man look gayer and more cheerful than Dr Verwoerd when, having reached our destination, he climbed happily out of my old tin can in front of one of Pretoria's 13

most imposing buildings, where a number of high officials and V .I.P.'s were deferentially waiting to receive him. W h i le I was manoeuvring my jalopy between the yellow lines intended for the resplendent ministerial vehicle, Dr Verwoerd turnNI to me, and temporarily disregarding the reception committee, suggested laughingly that it might be advisable to park his "official vehicle" facing the other way — "just in case I have to push you again." After my first few days as Dr. Verwoerd's secretary, I knew that in him I had encountered a man who was unique in every way. But I was not to knovv then that our association was destined to continue for more than 13 years, nor that during this time I would be privileged to be an active witness to one of the most dramatic and critical periods in the history of South Africa; that for 13 years I would be privileged to move in the shadow of this great and dynamic spirit, the architect of our future, who as Prime Minister for eight years was to guide our destiny and that of our country he loved so dearly. These things I did not know then. But I did know that here was a man who was destined to blaze new trails and to leave a deep and indelible imprint on the pages of our country' s history.

"The Boss" — so we termed Dr Verwoerd — was a man who believed in orderliness and efficient organisation. Disorder and planlessness irritated him. Luckily for me, I did not invoke his displeasure very often, for when Dr Verwoerd was irritable he could be very difficult indeed. In the office he wanted everything just in impeccable order. He used to arrive early in the morning, but by that time he had already devoured the morning papers at home. 'Devoured' is the word, for he read everything in the newspapers, every word — news, advertisements, featu~, jokes, right down to the comic strips. His quick eyes missed nothing; and almost invariably there was something he wanted to clip out. For this purpose he always carried a small pair of scissors in his waistcoat pocket. Any news item or report which had raised any question in his mind, no matter which Provincial department or Government body it concerned, merited attention: the question raised by the report had to be submitted to the person or body concerned, the ma5er foHowed up expeditiously and properly dealt with. If he read something in the paper about water affairs, the item had to be cut out and despatched, together with the relevant question it had aroused, to the Minister concerned; if he came across something concerning

finance which in his view warranted investigation, the cutting had to be brought to the attention of the Minister of Finano:. Whenever a newspaper with which he was associated published anything which met with his disapproval, the editor or manager was called to account. He usually brought these cuttings along to the office and handed them over to his private secretary, with the necessary instructions. In this way many a problem was solved in the course of the years, and many a matter which might have developed into an awkward problem, adjusted in time. I was in the habit of going to the office very early in the morning, read through the papers attentively, glance through the mail, and put problem cases on Dr Verwoerd's desk. I was always careful to see that there were at least three sharp pencils, an adequate number of pens, ink, writing paper and pins on his desk. If any of these items were missing, "the Boss" was liable to become very difficult indeed, for once he had got down to writing, he resembled a machine which, switch& on, goes on running without pause or interruption. The only thing which could switch him off was a prearranged appointment. No letter which reached the office was allowed to go unanswered; moreover, correspondents' questions had to be answered in the minutest detail. He went even further: the answers had to cover, not only the questions actuaHy asked, but also potential ones as yet unasked, Briefly, the reply had to be so comprehensive and so absolutely watertight that the correspondent would not, try as he might, find anything more to query or quibble about. Any future questions had thus to be forestalled. The result was that, over and above the answers to the questions he had asked, the correspondent usually received, quite Ipatuitously, a whole baWry of answers to questions which had never as much as crossed his mind! The volume of work to be handled in the office was enormous. Bulging mailbags from aU quarters of the globe were dehvered every day. In time I became so expert at handling correspondence that I was able to predict with perfect accuracy what Dr Verwoerd's reply would be to any letter received.

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