Then an 18-year-old Lithuanian immigrant, Jankus stood among the first boatload of non-British immigrants ever sponsored by the Australian Government. Like Jankus, the other passengers had been selected from Displaced Persons Camps throughout Germany as part of Calwell’s plan to populate Australia. Japanese attacks during World War II had rekindled that country’s dread of invasion. There was a widespread belief that the population would need to double or treble if Australia was ever to find security.
“I remember Calwell,” recalls Zig Paskevicius who, on the docks in regretted having brought his winter coat to that sweltering land. In the years ahead, working on a geological crew in the bone-chilling Tasmanian wilderness, he gave thanks for his foresight. “I even remember how he was dressed. He had a suit much like mine and I thought, ‘Gee, he’s a minister! He should be dressed better than that!’”
Regardless of the figure Calwell cut that day, he was a canny politician about to unveil a bold ruse. Unwittingly, the immigrants were crucial props. Although traditional animosity toward mass immigration had disappeared, Calwell believed prejudice still existed toward non-British migrants. So, he and senior advisors decided on a test case.We were young, well educated and had the whole world in front of us Gunárs Bérzzarins This is where the passengers on the HMAS Kanimbla came in. Young, single and nearly all from the Baltic states of Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia, the 112 women and 727 men embodied all the promise immigration offered Australia.
“Four lines in a geography book.” That was all 26-year-old Vera Strikis knew when she accepted the offer to immigrate. With her homeland of Latvia locked behind the Iron Curtain, her family scattered and, given the increasing likelihood of another major war in Europe, she decided to get as far away as possible.
For some immigrants, such as Juozas Sestokas, Australia was their first choice. He had declined an opportunity to go to Canada. “I don’t know why. It just made me feel good to be amongst Australians. They were happy and I hadn’t seen anyone like that for a long time,” recalled Joe, who worked his lifetime in the coalfields of Victoria.
For others, it was fate. The decision of Olaf Aerfeldt, an Estonian textile engineer’s son, hung on the flip of a coin. Finding a US quarter on the steps of Stuttgart Railway Station, he tossed it: Heads for South America; tails for Australia. “It came down tails,” he said laconically from Adelaide where, for several decades, he worked as a partner in an accountant agency and, in his free time, focused on his golf handicap.
After a six-week voyage, the migrants were greeted by Minister Calwell who told them, “We want people in Australia – good, young enthusiastic people. Wherever you go here you go among friends. Whatever your memories might be of tragedies in the past, we hope your future in Australia will have only pleasant experiences for you.”
Gunárs Bérzzarins, described in the newspapers as a former Riga Junior Chess Champion, noted that, “The catchcry at the time was ‘Populate or Perish.’ So, I think the government had prepared the ground very well for our arrival. I remember the newspaper headline of ‘Bronzed Balts.’ We did have a sense of being a special group. We were young, well educated and had the whole world in front of us.”
You won’t find gold in the streets, but if you are prepared to work, you’ll get the rewards Arthur Calwell The following morning the immigrants marched down the gangway and out of history’s spotlight. They spread themselves throughout the country where they tended the railways, worked in factories, picked fruit, worked on building sites and roads, hacked paths through the wilderness or worked in offices.
Twenty-five years later, Calwell remembered his “beautiful Balts.” There were, he said, “a number of platinum blondes of both sexes. The men were handsome and the women beautiful. It was not hard to sell immigration to the Australian people once the press published photographs of that group.”
Jankus started his own engineering company. Bérzzarins became a journalist. Vera worked as a cook in the cane fields of Queensland and in factories while raising her two boys. She eventually returned to her native home, but recalls Australia fondly.
“Australia was very fair to me, but I could never stand the heat. In the garden, you needed one hand on the hose and one on the insect spray. I suppose I will always be Latvian in that regard. Australia, please forgive me.”
History has been unkind to the main actor of that day. Arthur Calwell, a proud, passionate man, is now seen, unfairly, as a racist. He also saw his aspiration to become prime minister dashed. In the, he was overtaken by a suaver generation of politicians. When he fought and lost the election on the issue of Vietnam, he was ahead of public opinion and it ended his career.
John Pilger wrote in A Secret Country , “Within my lifetime they (the immigrants) have converted Australia from a white-only fortress, a second-hand England, to … the second most culturally diverse society. And it has happened peacefully. This is a remarkable achievement by any measure of human decency and progress.” Both are honorable epitaphs to Arthur Calwell.
