A tribute from The Campaign Palace co-founder Lionel Hunt:
Susie (Bunty) Rowland was the matriarch of The Campaign Palace in Melbourne even though
she was only 21 when we hired her.
We called her Bunty because she was rather posh, in an English way, although she was a Melbourne girl through and through.
She
was, I think, only our second hiring , and she had to do pretty much
everything - answer the phones, type my copy, run Gordon's and my
private lives (no easy task) and, in winter, even come in early to light
the fires in our grand old Victorian terrace house in Cecil Street,
South Melbourne.
She created this extra role herself, appointed herself to it without
feeling the need to interview other candidates, and awarded herself an
extra $50 a week. A fire starter and self starter, both.
Talking
about typing my copy, I didn't realise it at the time but she would take
my scrawled handwriting and edit and change it to suit herself and then
give it back to me without saying a word.
Many's the time she
gave me back my heavily and secretly changed copy, only for me to say,
after reading it, 'Mmm, rather good don't you think?'
She loved a
good time and wasn't alone there. Well before mid day there would be
the pop of a wine cork and Bunty would pour herself a glass of Mountadam
chardonnay and carry on typing. Unfortunately she would often put the
glass on the carriage of her typewriter and forget to remove it when she
tapped the return key.
'Shit', we'd hear, and another $200 typewriter cleaning fee.
Despite
all this, some would say because of it, Bunty was the very backbone of
The Palace, supremely capable, utterly loyal and loved by all. Office
manager I suppose you'd call it these days. More like Mammasan.
She
did, of course have a life outside of The Palace. She married Peter
Rowland, the doyen of Melbourne high society caterers, and became an
(once again self
appointed ) 'architect'.
She designed their own French chateau which was I believe the first house in Melbourne with an underground carpark.
She also had a deep interest in Egyptian tombs.
No doubt the two things are related.
She was our first long service leave recipient after 12 years devoted service, which seemed like a lifetime in those days.
We gave her an around the world business class ticket and where did she go? Cairo, of course.
Now, 30 years later it's hard to believe she's gone.
All those early Palace people are going to feel it deeply.
And me, who am I going to get to fix this up and type it?
From The Campaign Palace co-founder Gordon Trembath:
Susie
was on top of everything, always. So much so, in the forty forty or so
years since years we worked together at The Palace Susie always
remembered my birthday. And it was a bit of a joke between us that
although I knew her birthday was in October I didn't remember what day.
And only a few days ago I finally extracted the date from her and
messaged her back that she should expect to hear from me with bells on
come October 8, but that wasn't to say we shouldn't catch up before
then.No
hint in that simple little exchange that she was anything but well, and
now your terrible news! Right now I don't know what else I can say that
doesn't sound trite. But really, Susie was, as they say "a class act",
and much loved.
Everyone liked and respected and enjoyed Suzie's
company, without exception - Chris Dewey, Jack Vaughan, Harold Mitchel
and even Wayne Sidwell spring immediately to mind. Jo Shorrock too (and
she'll have a lot more names). Lionel and I of course loved her to
bits, as I'm sure also did Terry Bunton and Ian Watson, both of whom I
remember always enjoyed her company immensely. A lot of laughs whenever
with Susie.
Former Palace creative director Jack Vaughan sent in this tribute:
As
lots of people have probably already explained, Susie was called
'Bunty'. Dunno why, except for her slight lofty upper class bearing.
Anyway, she basically ran the Palace.She
ordered the booze, organised the taxis, booked the airline tickets, got
us lunch tables at favourite restaurants, gave petty bureaucratic
officialdom short shrift (and very articulately), purchased all the
office supplies, ushered in the clients and kept them diverted while we
were still in the back room trying to have the idea. And much more. You
get the picture. Indispensable.
Every agency should have one of her.
Bunty
was a touch formal when she was 'on the bridge' but had the ability to
completely change after closing time when she'd let her hair down big
time.
I'm sure she was just as valuable in her later roles, after
the Palace. So lots of people will miss her, and her sense of
capability and reassurance.
From former Palace creative director Ron Mather:
Caring,
efficient, quirky, loyal, funny and much loved. All qualities that were
essential to successfully look after a creative department as demanding
as The Campaign Palace's was.And Susie had them all.
I have many fond memories of Susie, or Bunty as she was known.
I
remember once when Lionel and I decided to go on a survival camping
trip, taking no food and only fishing rods. Of course we didn't catch
any fish and we were really hungry. Then we discovered an Esky in the
back of the car, full of lamb chops. Susie had put them there, making
sure we wouldn't go hungry. That was typical of Susie.
RIP Bunty, you will be missed by many.
From former Palace creative director Scott Whybin:
Susie
(Bunty) was the personification of The Palace Melbourne in the late
70's and 80's. God, she knew how to have fun. Yet she was always a
perfectionist and did everything with utter style. I'll
never forget my first day at The Palace in 1984. Susie presented me
with a list of Melbourne's top 15 restaurants. (I was at the tender age
of 24) and then asked me to sign it.
Scott, she said, "You are now registered at all these restaurants and all you have to do is sign."
It
was before FBT and she then whispered to me in that beautiful, high,
posh little voice, "And remember Scott, the more you spend, the more you
save".
God please make sure there's some Crystal on ice for her arrival. She deserves every sip.
Rest Bunty. Love you always.