Harold Holt: 50 years on, Tony Eggleton recalls the day a PM vanished

The events that led to prime minister Harold Holt vanishing in the sea — and the impact of his loss — are recalled by a close aide.

Harold Holt. He was just too confident on a beach that he knew too well.

As December 1967 approached, it was less than a year since Harold Holt had achieved a resounding electoral success. Nonetheless, there had been Liberal Party disquiet during the course of the year. Harold himself didn’t give the ­impression of being unduly disturbed and felt that he could ­restore confidence.

In terms of his personal health, he was robust and committed to his regular swimming and snorkelling. However, he told me of a recent scare he had with his shoulder muscle while under water. He occasionally mused that his family did not seem to make old bones.

His shoulder flared up during the November 1967 Senate election campaign and caused him considerable pain. The discomfort made him appear stiff and awkward during his televised election launch.

He was receiving treatment from a specialist and taking medication. The briefcase contained even more pills than usual. He had tried to keep the problem from the media but it surfaced on a campaign visit to Western Australia.

During the long flight to Perth, the prime minister sought relief by taking more pills than were good for him. When we got off the flight he seemed unsteady on his feet. It was off to Forrest Place for a traditional lunchtime election rally. Walking to the platform, he continued to shuffle awkwardly and, although he manfully delivered his speech, there was a slight slurring of his words.

The media was chattering and thought he might have been drinking too much. So the prime minister asked me (as his press secretary) to gather reporters for an informal meeting over afternoon tea before flying out of Perth. He explained to them the reason he was not his usual self. This killed off any “drunk” stories but there were a few reports about Harold’s shoulder pain.

The outcome of the Senate election was disappointing for Harold and the party, adding to the earlier political disquiet. But the prime minister was his resilient self. He was cheerful about the coming summer holidays, and saw the new year as the opportunity to make changes and reassure his political colleagues.

The Holts planned to spend Christmas and New Year at Port­sea, but Harold decided to have the weekend of December 16-17 there as well. Zara Holt had a house guest at the Lodge and was looking forward to Canberra Christmas parties. So she opted not to accompany the prime minister to Portsea.

On the Friday morning (December 15) I walked with Harold to his car at the front of Parliament House. He was in good spirits and said he would ring me the next morning for a rundown on the media. We exchanged a wave as the car set off for the airport.

On the home front, this was to be a busy weekend in preparation for the festive season. Lawns to be cut, a couple of Christmas parties to attend and off to the airport on Sunday to meet my wife Mary’s mother, Virgie, our house guest for Christmas.

Harold Holt at home in Portsea in 1966.

The prime minister rang about 8.30 on the Saturday morning. We compared notes about the favourable media coverage and Harold reflected on the events of the past year. Despite the problems, he felt there had been achievements. He said the trouble was that many people “could not see the wood for the trees”. He would take advantage of his proposed news conference the next week to put issues in perspective. He asked me to seek relevant briefing notes and other documentation from the Prime Minister’s Department and to make arrangements to travel to Melbourne on Monday. We could review this material and prepare a positive statement to set the scene for the news conference.

Harold was on the phone for ­almost an hour. Apart from planning the news conference, he said he had been thinking about international priorities for the following year. It was time to put a stronger focus on communications with Europe, where there was a lack of appreciation of the growing significance of Asia and the Pacific. He would visit a range of European capitals to highlight the challenges and opportunities in our region. Europeans, including Britain, didn’t seem to appreciate that Asia and the Pacific would be the powerhouse of the future. At the end of the call I promised the prime minister that I would gather the background material he was seeking and would arrange to be at his Melbourne office on Monday. As soon as we had finished the phone conversation, I set in train the arrangements for the next week.

Sunday, December 17, 1967, was a warm summer’s day in Canberra. I spent the morning in the garden and in the afternoon we were to attend a party hosted by Herschel Hurst, the head of the Melbourne Sun parliamentary bureau in Canberra.

Prime minister missing

Herschel rang me early in the afternoon. I thought he was confirming arrangements for his party but the call was to ask about the prime minister. Herschel apologised but said his Melbourne office was insistent he should ask me about vague ­reports of a VIP missing in the sea at Portsea. I observed that there were large numbers of VIPs at Portsea but said I would check with the Lodge. I was still making preliminary inquiries when Herschel rang back to say the reports were now referring specifically to the prime minister.

With the report squarely identifying the prime minister, I decided to ring the housekeeper at Portsea, “Tiny” Lawless. She said the prime minister was out with friends, although I noted a degree of anxiety in her voice. I then rang police headquarters in Melbourne and soon found myself speaking with a senior officer. He confirmed the reports about Harold being missing at Cheviot Beach and said he was just about to inform Mrs Holt. He said it would be helpful if I could handle this. I phoned the Lodge but Zara was at a Christmas Party. I asked the prime minister’s driver to go to the party and to arrange for Mrs Holt to speak with me.

Meantime, I alerted the prime minister’s private secretary, Peter Bailey, and we agreed that it would be prudent to have an aircraft of the RAAF VIP on standby at Can­berra Airport. Peter said he would make contact with the head of the Prime Minister’s Department, John Bunting, who was on holidays on the NSW south coast.

Zara Holt and Tony Eggleton after arriving in Portsea. On the flight from Canberra, she had been upbeat.

When Zara Holt rang me back she was not unduly concerned. She said it was not unusual for the prime minister to swim out to a rock just to sit in the sun and on occasion could be missing for sometime. At that stage we had no idea of the ­actual circumstances at Cheviot Beach. She did not see any ­immediate need to consider flying to Melbourne.

However, the situation was ­escalating quickly and my phone was running hot. The Lodge came through and said that Mrs Holt had changed her mind and now wanted to go to Portsea. She would pick me up at home on the way to the airport.

It was almost impossible to get ready. Media organisations were phoning from all over Australia and internationally. My wife Mary began taking messages to give me an opportunity to throw a few things into a case. I alerted my assistant, Mary Newport, and asked her to cope with the media while I was en route to Melbourne and Portsea.

At about 3.15 a honking of a car horn alerted me to the arrival of the Bentley. Mrs Holt was accompanied by her house guest from Queensland, Mrs Alison Busst, and also by the prime minister’s doctor, ­Marcus Faunce. When we arrived at the RAAF base there was a group of photo­graphers in position to record Mrs Holt’s hurried departure for Melbourne.

On the flight, Mrs Holt initially was cheerful and confident. She was hopeful that we would soon receive an “all clear” message through the aircraft’s communication system. As the flight progressed, and in the absence of good news, she became increasingly uneasy. The captain passed me a message asking whether Zara would like a helicopter to be standing by in Melbourne to fly her direct to Portsea. She said all available helicopters should be diverted to the search at Portsea and that she would prefer a fast trip by car with a police escort.

Zara Holt with sons Sam (black jumper) and Nick (grey jumper) at the beach on December 18.

Handling the crisis

For the dash from the airport to Portsea, I chose to travel in the back-up commonwealth car. With­out upsetting Mrs Holt, I hoped to be able to monitor developments and to listen to radio broadcasts. The commonwealth Humber Hawk did not rate a built-in radio but fortunately the driver had a transistor clipped to his sun visor. All radio programming was ­devoted to the search for the missing prime minister.

Beach-goers on the route to Portsea gathered along the roadside. Dressed for a Sunday by the sea, they assembled in silent groups, curious and ­concerned. They had abandoned the beach. The radio reports had left them in no doubt that Aus­tralia, on that pleasant Sunday afternoon, had plunged into a political crisis.

The drive to Portsea gave me an opportunity to consider the challenges that I faced. The eyes of the world would be on Portsea, with all the inevitable media implications. There was no arranged plan for this drama. I would just have to take it a step at a time and try to respond appropriately

It was about 6 o’clock when we arrived at Portsea. The beach house was full of distressed family members. The army advised that it was holding a large team of media outside the military base. They wanted to know my wishes. I said that I would appreciate the army’s full co-operation in giving access to the media and that we should ­locate a venue for press briefings. We should make sure that the media arrangements did not hamper the search in any way.

Family at the house gave me a host of messages from Liberal parliamentarians, key government figures and departmental officers. Mrs Holt asked me to check the prime minister’s briefcase to see what papers might need urgent attention. The Prime Minister’s Department ­advised that I should handle the Portsea end as I saw fit. I should ­liaise with the army and with the police and make whatever media arrangements were required. Bunting, suggested that, in my Sunday media briefings, I should not abandon hope for the prime minister. We would need to ­review this the next day.

The Holt home at Portsea.

The first of a series of press conferences took place at 8 o’clock that evening at Badcock Hall on the Portsea army base. I met military and police representatives and they joined me for the news conference. They asked me to take the lead and co-ordinate the conference. This was no run-of-the-mill press briefing. The whole event was being telecast live around the nation. It was the first of six televised news conferences over the next three days. The prime minister’s personal secretary, Pat de Lacy, cancelled a Pacific cruise and drove to Portsea with equipment and materials so that we could establish a temporary ­office. While working at Port­sea, we watched her cruise ship sail out of the bay.

Pat helped to organise a meeting with Marjorie Gillespie, who had been with Harold on the beach when he disappeared. She lived nearby and was overwrought by the tragedy. I arranged to get a detailed account the following day. She explained that Harold had picked up a group of four friends on the Sunday morning. They had first gone to watch English yachtsman Alec Rose sailing into Port Phillip Bay. Then Harold had been keen on a swim at ­Cheviot Beach.

The water was choppy and ­uninviting but, with traditional bravado, Harold proposed they should all go into the water. Only one of the group shared Harold’s confidence and entered the sea.

The prime minister knew this beach like the back of his hand. But this day the elements were against him.

­Within minutes he was being swept out to sea in a strong current and he was last seen with his white hair bobbing among the waves.

On return from the Sunday night press conference, the family arranged a late meal for us all. Then we caught up with some sleep in various parts of the relatively small beach house. A number of us, including the Holt sons and Faunce, camped in the sitting room. There was a boisterous thunderstorm during the night, and Zara came around making sure we were all as comfortable as possible.

Marjorie Gillespie and her daughter Vyner.

I was up at dawn the next morning. The beach was damp and the sky heavy with menacing grey clouds. It was a daunting sight. The bevy of television ­broadcast vans assembled on the cliff tops, plus the crush of other media cars and all the various rescue vehicles.

The day was spent giving interviews and news conferences, and maintaining liaison with all the various parties involved. Zara was trying to remain composed and spent much of her time playing with her grandchildren.

The media, representing Australian and international news ­organisations, was considerate and co-operative, even when Zara made her way along the beach to thank the rescue teams. The journalists didn’t attempt to harass her but, at the end of the walk, she stopped to say a few words to them. We had been trying to run our makeshift office from the crowded beach house but it was near ­impossible. Fortunately some neighbours, who were back in Melbourne, made their house available to us.

Divers search for the body of Harold Holt in choppy and univiting waters at Portsea on December 18, 1967.

World leaders say farewell

I was on the beach with media and searchers when I was summoned to the house. There was an urgent phone call. An American woman’s voice asked if I was Tony Eggleton. She then said: “The president of the United States wishes to speak with you.”

Lyndon Johnson said: “Tony, this is LBJ.” He went on to say he was distressed about Harold’s death and that he was proposing to fly immediately to Australia so he could attend the memorial service.

He wanted me to extend his condolences to Mrs Holt and to let her know he was on his way. The president said everything was being set in hand through official channels but that I should also confirm with Canberra that he was determined to be at the service in Melbourne.

The memorial service was to be on the Friday, so I returned to Melbourne with Zara Holt on the Thursday. The house in Toorak was swarming with US secret service men who were making preparations for the presidential visit. I received LBJ when he arrived at the house and took him to meet Zara. I left them alone and they were both emotional.

The memorial service at St Paul’s Cathedral attracted 19 presidents and prime ministers and was Australia’s biggest gathering of world leaders. It was a remarkable tribute to a man who had been prime minister for fewer than two years. Not only was the cathedral overflowing but crowds surrounded the cathedral and gathered in the surrounding streets.

Pat and I were invited to attend the service with the Holt family and afterwards there was a reception at Government House.

It was hard to believe that Harold was gone from us and that it was only five days since he had boldly stepped into the sea at Cheviot Beach. A miscalculation with fatal consequences. He misjudged the currents and the tides. A simple mistake that changed the course of Australian politics.

Without a body, it was impossible to avoid speculation and ­conspiracy theories. And sub­se­quently there was much distortion of circumstances, political intrigues and events that had ­occurred in the weeks before his death.

In fact, the prime minister had been in good spirits, looking to the future. He was his usual cheery and positive self. Harold’s drowning was the kind of sad and distressing event that takes place all too often during an Australian summer. But people found it hard to accept that a prime minister could drown like anyone else.

The search party at Cheviot beach.

I have never doubted that it was an accident. He was just too confident on a beach that he knew too well. He was lulled into a false sense of security. A dramatic ­example of familiarity breeding contempt. There were consequences for me. Not only had I lost a boss and a friend but the extensive media ­exposure meant that I had, within a matter of days, become an identifiable public figure. Five days had left an indelible mark.

After the memorial service in Melbourne I ­returned to Canberra for Christmas. The leader of the National Party, John McEwen, had become the interim prime minister. The head of the Prime Minister’s ­Department suggested that I should take a couple of weeks’ leave, then return to Parliament House in January to handle the media arrangements for the election of the new Liberal leader.

During January, news organisations and magazines wrote feature pieces about me and the family. There were media stories that some Liberal Party members wanted me to replace Harold as the member for Higgins. This was never on my agenda and anyway, as events ­unfolded, it became ­apparent that this seat was going to be required for a more pressing purpose.

In the immediate wake of the Holt tragedy, I also received a phone call from Sir Frank Packer. He raised the prospect of my ­joining the Packer organisation and offered me opportunities if I did not have a role with the new prime minister.

Early January saw Liberal aspirants squaring up for the party leadership, and John Gorton polished his profile and campaigned with skill and tenacity.

Tony Eggleton was retained as press secretary by Harold Holt’s successor, John Gorton, a position he also held with Holt’s predecessor, Robert Menzies. He went on to serve as federal director of the Liberal Party from 1975 to 1990, and was campaign director at seven federal elections. This is the first time Eggleton has written publicly about the disappearance of Holt.