Miss McCallum went into this job from journalism and in those days, and for many years later, the Press generally were, to say the least, not very happy with the ABC as a ‘new’ arrival in the media. Because of this she needed plenty of tact and understanding which she fortunately had. She was a very efficient publicity officer, was always patient and painstaking and she tells us in the opening chapter

I propose to write of them (the artists) not so much under the spotlight of public adulation but as they were in real life

Because of this I expected to read at least some ‘warts and all’ details, as well as some of the difficulties she experienced with the Press – but in this book all seemed sweetness and light – yet we all know that in those days and for some years to follow the Press was very ‘anti-Auntie’.

Not only this, but the nearly 200 pages contain a fair amount of trivia. Is it ‘as they were in real life’ to tell us that William Kapell lost his shoe laces and she had to rush around at the last minute and find a pair, or that Father Muset Ferrer bought her a custard tart? Interesting to one’s self and one’s friends yes, but hardly the stuff of ‘real life’.

Again, Miss McCallum, who was a good journalist, seems wedded to an outmoded style – she is the only modern author I have read who insists on referring to a State Governor as His Excellency the Governor, or to a royal couple as Their Royal Highnesses the Duke and Duchess of – or again as Fletcher (later Sir Fletcher) Jones – all quite correct of course but very ‘stuffy’ in these days, particularly when the Monarch and her husband only get the tag The Queen and Prince Phillip. This style of writing seems to slow down the telling of these Untold Tales.

I wondered why, in a book with a sub-title ‘Memoirs of an ABC Publicity Officer’, we are given potted histories of some of the Western District families – only two or three of them had anything to do with her work at the ABC – one of these was Hepzibah Menuhin who married grazier Lindsay Nicholas – although some of the families entertained ABC artists when they performed in Ballarat.

But even more serious in a modern book is the almost awkward way Miss McCallum constructs some of her sentences

For example –

Could we but know the destiny that shapes our ends with the same clarity that hind­sight affords us, we might indeed wonder!

or

never did understudy step more avidly into the role when the chance came than the local cadet on being asked to stand in for a story left uncovered by a top line journalist.

again

That some of the world’s greatest artists met each other in Australia was surely the farthest reach of the long arm of coincidence!

One more example

No mention may now be made of Kapell, over a score of years since the tragedy that deprived the world of a pianist whose true star quality was gathering international recognition, without an underlying sense of the loss that his death meant to music.

All through my several readings I wondered why a book with such promise at the outset didn’t take off and now I think that Miss McCallum hadn’t really decided what she wanted to tell us, the readers. Was it about the people she knew (or met) in the Western Districts, was it about her personal contacts with many outstanding artists she so efficiently shepherded through their tours ‘down under’, or was it just a collection of personal jottings about her own life as a journalist and/or publicity officer?

Then I ask myself why give sub headings such as these: ‘Searing Press Conference’; ‘Beecham Living Legend’; ‘Galliera not soft in the head’, ‘Barbirolli and the King of Denmark’, etcetera etcetera. Surely these are headings which the journalist/author will make to prod his memory later.

Also isn’t it a bit precious (especially in a book, written I suppose for a general audience) to use chapter headings such as ‘CANTATRICES’ ‘CONTES ET COMEDIA’ ‘CHEFS D’ORCHESTRE’. ‘CLAVIER’ ‘CONCERTO’ ‘CHANTEURS’ and ‘CODA’? Surely no one of Miss McCallum’s intellectual stature would be saying ‘I know my French and my musical terms’, but unfortunately that’s the impression the average reader might get.

Yet despite all this Miss McCallum can write well from her fund of experiences with the musical ‘greats’ – her stories of Beecham, Anna Russell, Lord Lurgan and his royal tennis, the Barbirollis, the lovely Ema Berger, Rita Streich, Richard Tauber and many others are all beautifully told, with no ‘stuffiness’, and will be a joy to the concert goer or the record fan.

Miss McCallum shows how deeply and sympathetically she was involved with ‘her’ artists when she tells of the tragic deaths of William Kapell (well on his way to stardom), and Ginette Neveu and her brother Jean at the very height of their career. She makes us realise how much the musical world lost when those awful tragedies occurred.

It is in those memories of the ‘greats’ that Miss McCallum shines – one can only wish that this book had more of these, plus some ‘warts and all’ and a little less, of what the casual reader (who didn’t hear these artists on the platform) might dismiss as trivial.