

Radio Corporation 1950's
During a period in the early 1950's I was employed as an engineer with Government Communication's in south Melbourne, Australia. It wasn't a boring job, but let's say it did not place any demands on my expertise, and very predictable from day to day.
Just a short walk away was the giant company Radio Corporation of Australasia, involved in all the latest, radio, hi-fi. and also TV prior to it being launched in 1956. On several occasions I visited their employment office with my friend Bill, but never managed to get accepted
It was Freddie that came to my rescue, during another chance meeting in the city. (see my story "Freddie and The Seance"
“Hello Will, what are you doing now?”
“I’m with communications in South Melbourne but I’m looking around for something different. I’ve tried several times to get into Radio Corporation without success .”
Freddie smiled. “I know the Managing Director there; Just go along and ask to see him, tell him I sent you, he’ll give you a job. His name is Mr. McDonald.”
I couldn’t believe my luck and on Monday morning suggested to Bill that they pay the company another visit. “No way, I’m not going to get another rejection!” Realizing that I would have to go by myself I arranged to take some time off during the mid-morning. Instead of going up to personnel, I headed for the main entrance hall.
“Can I see Mr. McDonald please?”
“Have you an appointment?”
“No.”
“You’ll have to see his personal secretary,” she said, pointing to a door behind her.
The personal secretary asked the same question. “No, but a friend of his has asked me to see him. I’ll only take a minute of his time.”
The woman hesitated, then picked up the phone. “What’s your name?”
“Bonner.”
“Mr. McDonald, there’s a Mr. Bonner to see you. A friend of yours has asked him to call.” There was a moment of silence and then she put the phone down. “He hasn’t got much time but he’ll see you now” and pointing at the inter-connecting door, “go straight through.”
I suddenly realized what had happened. I now had more than just a few butterflies in my stomach. Totally unprepared, I advanced towards the door not having a clue what lay ahead.
I entered a large room, in the center of which stood an oak desk occupied by the Managing Director, fortunately for me, engaged on the telephone. The oak paneled walls were lined with company pictures, but most unnerving was the deathly silence.
Mr. McDonald was a stocky man, dressed in a grey pin striped suit. His firm features and square chin, along with the parted, slicked back, greying hair, painted a picture of a man that would run the business like a military machine. His eyes glanced up as I approached, and he pointed with his finger for me to sit in the chair opposite. I sat down filled with anxiety.
This man will chew me up and spit me out in tiny fragments when he learns what I’m here for. Before I had time to compose himself Mr. McDonald put down the telephone and glanced down at a piece of paper on his desk. “It’s Bonner isn’t it?”
“Yes, Mr. McDonald.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Freddie Blackwood suggested I see you.” A puzzled look came over his face.
“Blackwood, Blackwood? You did say Freddie Blackwood?”
“Yes Sir.”
“I don’t know of a Freddie Blackwood.”
“He assured me he knows you.”
Mr. McDonald cut me short. “Forget about Blackwood, why are you here Bonner?”
“He said you could find me a job.” There was a moment of absolute silence and then it was as though someone had pulled the pin from a hand-grenade, without a fuse. He exploded! Getting up from his chair in a rage he walked backward and forwards behind his desk like a Sergeant Major.
“Who do you think you are Bonner, coming here on some pretext, wasting my time! Did you know that the parent company here employs over 2,000 people and there are many companies in the group. I have a complete staff in the personnel department” and he rambled on and on, a castigating tone in his voice.
Instead of feeling suppressed, I felt the anger building up inside, and as McDonald stopped to draw breath I stood up and started to speak in a loud voice, and I didn’t stop until I had finished what I had to say.
“Now that you’ve finished Mr. McDonald, and before I go, I’ll have my say. You may have 2,000 people under your control but you haven’t got a clue what’s going on. I’ve seen your personnel manager Mr. Marks several times and his ability for recognizing good talent is zero. I’ve got the experience and the qualifications that your company needs and he’s too blind to see it. If I were you, I’d pick up the phone and give him the sack!”
McDonald stood rigid behind his desk and I turned to leave. “Wait Bonner, wait!” and picking up the phone “get Mr. Marks the personnel manager down here, right away.” He pointed to the chair for me to sit down again and continued to work at his desk. The next few minutes, for me, were agonizing. The door eventually opened and the personnel manager walked in.
“Sir, you sent for me.”
The Managing Director pointed at me. “Give this man a job,” and as I followed Mr. Marks out of the room, I looked back to see that Mr. McDonald was still at his desk, working away as though nothing had transpired.
Back in the personnel office the manager proceeded to go through the files over and over again, finally turning to me. “I can’t find anything that would be suitable for you, I’ll have to sort something out that matches your qualifications. You’ll get a telegram in a couple of days.”
Outside, I had the distinct impression that I had been shown the back door again, but I would have to wait and see.
Back at communications Bill came to see me. “Well, what did they say?”
“He’s sorting something out for me and they’ll telegram me in a couple of days.”
Bill burst out laughing. “You mean they’ve shown you the back door again.”
Two days later the telegram arrived.
Mr. Marks greeted me and it was obvious that he was pleased to have ultimately satisfied the Managing Director’s bidding. It was a firm job. The company had landed a contract to supply car radios for General Motors.
To add an adjunct to the story I did meet the managing director McDonald on one other occasion.
In the 1950's there were very few elevators in factory buildings. To get the goods between floors they employed what was called "Dummy Waiters" a large box built into the wall with ropes which enabled you to get large or heavy goods between the various levels to avoid having to carry them up the stairs.
I was in charge of a small unit on the 3rd floor, and there had been a lot of light hearted banter going on which resulted in the staff stuffing me into one of the dummy waiters and propelling me down to the ground floor. I pushed the door open and fell out on the floor on my back, looking up guess who was looking down at me. Mr. MacDonald with a look on his face that defied description.
A few weeks later MacDonald died of a heart attack. I don't think it humanly possible that the incident could have borne any connection, but my co workers never let me forget it. With every new employee they would say. Watch out for him he's the one that killed the Managing Director.