When a future king charmed Durban

On a warm winter morning at precisely 10am, a special royal train arrived at Berea Road station in Durban. From his carriage the heir to the British throne, Edward the Prince of Wales, emerged in military uniform. It was June 3, 1925, a public holiday in Durban. Waiting to greet him was the Mayor, Thomas Wadley, various dignitaries and a Guard of Honour mounted by the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve. A continual programme of duties lay ahead of the prince.

The first was to inspect the Guard before taking his seat in the official car which would proceed slowly along West Street to the Town Hall. Lined with local troops and school cadets, the dense crowds cheered the prince the entire route. More dignitaries awaited him as he ascended the dias outside the Town Hall where the mayor read a Loyal Address, filled with “devotion and unswerving loyalty to the throne … by your humble, obedient and loyal servants.”

It was not called the Loyal Address for nothing. Written on a scroll, it was then presented to him in a stinkwood casket, which had the Union and Borough coats of arms engraved in silver. It was one of innumerable caskets he received during his visits to towns and cities of the empire.

The original invitation for the prince to visit South Africa had been extended by the Prime Minister, Jan Smuts, in 1923. After Smuts called an early election in 1924 (which he lost) , the visit was postponed to 1925. Thus when the prince sailed into Cape Town on April 30, 1925, it was J B M Hertzog who received him.

The prince went out of his way to endear himself to the Afrikaners and was largely successful, even speaking a few halting sentences in Afrikaans. He laid wreaths on the graves of Britain’s old enemies, President Kruger (of the Transvaal) and President Steyn (of the Orange Free State). Prince Edward spent three gruelling months in Southern Africa - it included visits to Botswana, Lesotho, Swaziland and Zimbabwe (where he visited the grave of Cecil Rhodes).

He received 45 formal addresses from berobed mayors to each of which he replied, reviewed nearly 50 parades of ex - servicemen and a similar number of guards of honour. There were countless informal wayside speeches and crowds of people to meet and greet : he estimated that he had shaken hands 10 thousand times.

As his train pulled out of each station, he would stand on the observation platform, a “slight, lonely figure waving his hand in answer to the cheers.” He later wrote that the programme was his master. “ I did my best to obey. Two days here, three days there … I was like a man caught in a revolving door.”

The Durban programme was no different. After Prince Edward had accepted his stinkwood casket, given his speech (which was specially broadcast), he took the salute as the military regiments and cadets marched past. Then it was off to Albert Park where the town’s Zulu citizens were assembled. The prince was particularly intrigued by a parade of ricksha men whose “splendor of costume was unique among the transport systems of the world.”

From there it was a quick stop at King’s House where he stayed while in Durban. It was just long enough to change into mufti (civilian) clothes before his car took him to the Turk Club for lunch and a special race meeting where he presented the winner’s trophy.

Kingsmead was the venue for football and rugby matches, part of which the prince watched before he was whisked off to Durban Light Infantry where he met ex - servicemen and women.

Then it was back to King’s House for a quick change into evening attire and a grand civic banquet at the Marine Hotel on the Victoria Embankment. More speeches (again specially broadcast)  before Prince Edward was driven to the Town Hall for the King’s Birthday Ball. He loved dancing; it was probably the only activity he had actually enjoyed all day. The following morning it began all again.

First, it was a rally of Boy Scouts and Girl Guides at the Track grounds in Old Fort Road, then back to Kingsmead where 15 000 school children were massed to receive him and a Guard of Honour by the Durban school cadets was mounted for him to inspect. After a display of daylight fireworks, the prince made a return visit to Albert Park, this time to meet 23 000 members of the Indian community. There a garland of chrysanthenums and jasmin was hung around his neck. And all this before lunch.

After a quick bite at King’s House, he was driven down to the docks where he embarked on HMSAS Protea which proceeded via Maydon Channel to the new Graving Dock which he officially opened, but not before he had inspected yet another Guard of Honour. The graving dock was a significant milestone for Durban: it was the largest in the southern hemisphere and able to accommodate the largest mercantile vessels afloat.

Later that afternoon, the prince was a participant in a polo match at the Agricultural Show Grounds (today the site of King’s Park rugby). He enjoyed the sport and was always glad when a match was included in his itinerary. Apart from polo, he also played squash and golf while in Durban.

During a round of golf at the Durban Country Club, the prince, who played off an 18 handicap, hacked his way around a few of the holes, particularly the 10th where he took 17 shots. Nevertheless, he enjoyed his couple of rounds around the course enough to donate a commemorative trophy to the Club.

One of the foundation members was none other than the mayor, Thomas Wadley, whose wife Florence was in an advanced state of pregnancy. With so many official functions, the mayor came to know the prince well enough to ask him if he would be godfather to their new baby. He agreed and presented Mary (the sixth of seven daughters) with a ruby and diamond brooch which she treasured all her life.

If reading a recitation of his official schedule sounds tedious, it was. His aides noted the sameness of it in each town. In his memoir, Prince Edward wrote of the inexhaustible supply of cornerstones to be laid, the commemorative trees to be planted, strangers all expecting a heartening word from him. And always to carry out those duties with every indication of enjoyment. Only rarely did he lose his composure. His escape was exercise.

On long train journeys, he would ask for the train to be stopped. Wearing shorts and a sweater, he would jog along the tracks for a few kilometers. At some of the halts, the local community would organise a dance in the hope that he would attend. He was always game - “class” was not an issue, which only made him popular. The 1927 song, “I’ve danced with a man, who’s danced with a girl, who’s danced with the Prince of Wales” was a hit, coming as it did, at the height of his popularity.

The 1925 tour of Southern Africa was successful because he tried so hard to please all whom he met. His personal, almost boyish charm, even among those who resented the ties to Britain, created accessibility and appeal that was hard to resist. It was a British Prime Minister, Lloyd George, who said that the appearance of the popular prince could do more to calm the discord in far corners of the empire than half a dozen Imperial Conferences.

By the 1930s, he had squandered some of that appeal. When his father, George V, died in January 1936, the Prince of Wales ascended the throne as Edward VIII, but in December he abdicated to be “with the woman he loved.” He spent the remaining decades drifting aimlessly until his death in 1972. The golden glow that had surrounded him 100 years ago in South Africa was long gone.

SUNDAY TRIBUNE