Harold Holt took his troubles to Cheviot Beach

Painkillers, an affair and a divided cabinet. When he entered the treacherous surf, Harold Holt was already in deep.

Harold Holt during a swim, c 1966.

Fifty years ago on a hot and windy Sunday, December 17, 1967, Australia lost its prime minister.

Harold Holt was at Cheviot Beach, Portsea, with his secret lover, Marjorie Gillespie, her daughter Vyner and two of their friends, Martin Simpson and Alan Stewart.

Holt, wearing tight-fitting swimming trunks and sand shoes without laces, was untroubled by the high tide and raging surf. “I know this beach like the back of my hand,” he said with a touch of bravado.

About midday, Holt entered the water between the rocks while the others remained on shore. Stewart soon ventured in but stopped near the shallow edge, feeling an immense undertow swirling round his legs. It did not seem safe.

Suddenly, as Holt drifted out, the water “appeared to boil” and “swamp” him, Gillespie recalled. Holt’s silver hair was seen bobbing up and down as the waves surged and crashed on top of him, and then engulfed him. “Where is he?” Gillespie said in a panic.

Holt had vanished. He was never seen again. Despite the largest search and rescue operation ever mounted for an individual, his body was never recovered. The ­nation was in shock and soon in mourning.

Almost as soon as radio reports suggested a “VIP” was missing in the area, the political manoeuvring began. Within hours, an already unhappy and divided government was engaged in a bitter power struggle for the prime ministership.

Holt’s disappearance became a magnet for conspiracy theories. Was it an accident? Was it suicide? Was he taken by a shark? Was he being reckless, especially given he was taking painkillers? Was he worried his affair with Gillespie would become public? Some have even speculated about whether Holt was assassinated.

The craziest theory came from British journalist Anthony Grey, who claimed that Holt was a Chinese spy. Two frogmen apparently guided him underwater to a submarine that had been “lying silent on the seabed”.

Zara Holt, the prime minister’s wife, later said, “Harold didn’t even like Chinese food.”

The discovery of new documents coupled with fresh interviews shows that Holt was under significant political and personal pressure at the time of his disappearance, his shoulder was causing him immense pain, and the subsequent investigation was bungled, with evidence ignored and key information overlooked.

Shortly after Holt disappeared, Stewart ran to his car above the beach and drove quickly to the Quarantine Station gate they had passed through earlier. He informed the military guard on duty, Peter Morgan, that Holt was having “difficulties” in the surf.

Morgan spoke to his duty officer and connected Stewart with D24, the Victoria Police communications centre. Two young police detectives, Bernard Woiwod and Les Tozer, were sent to Portsea. They were the first police officers to arrive at the beach, ahead of inspector Laurie Newell and superintendent GW Hill, who directed the search.

Woiwod and Tozer were escorted to the beach. They met the Gillespies, Stewart and Simpson. They took statements. These statements have not been revealed before. Soon, Woiwod and Tozer would be forgotten as the top brass took over the investigation.

“The statements were never asked for as the federal police effectively took over the inquiry into Holt’s disappearance and took new statements of all the witnesses,” Woiwod, 85, tells Inquirer.

Woiwod took Stewart’s statement at 5.45pm on December 17 at the Portsea Officer Cadet School. It differs slightly from the statement taken two days later and included in the police report. The statement of Gillepsie’s daughter Vyner was taken three days after she was first interviewed by Tozer.

In Stewart’s second statement, he said there were “masses of driftwood … sawn planks of various lengths and thicknesses” on the beach. But in his earlier statement, Stewart said planks of “up to 5ft (1.5m) long” could be seen in the water “as the waves were breaking”. Was Holt hit in the head by a piece of wood?

The police investigation by Jack Ford from Victoria Police and Aubrey Jackson from the Commonwealth Police never incorporated these statements. Instead, they waited several days to interview the only witnesses to the disappearance of a prime minster.

It is indicative of a search and investigation that were flawed from the start.

The police initially told the media there was only one other person with Holt when there were actually four. With hundreds of people on the beach, there was no immediate or clear co-ordination. Vital clues may have been lost.

“We took those statements and then we went back to our office in Frankston and we were never contacted by the official investigators,” Woiwod says.

“There were people all over the beach. They were more interested in finding a body, dead or alive, than understanding how he managed to disappear.”

Local divers and surf lifesavers began searching for Holt. Within a few hours, the beach was blanketed with about 190 state and federal police, along with the army, navy and air force, plus local volunteers. An extensive search operation by land, sea and air was under way.

As night fell, any hope of finding Holt alive was all but lost. But the search continued for several weeks until it was abandoned on January 4. John McEwen, the new prime minister, was advised by the Victorian commissioner of police that “it is quite hopeless to pursue the search further”.
Before Holt left Canberra on Friday, December 15, he had an early morning meeting with Doug Anthony in his Parliament House office. Anthony was minister for primary industries and deputy leader of the Country Party. Anthony was worried when he saw Holt. “I was the last politician to see him alive,” Anthony, 87, says.

“He was not a happy soul when I saw him. He was almost always very welcoming and had a joke, but this day he was a bit gloomy.”

During the meeting, Holt walked over to the window. “What a beautiful day it is out there,” Anthony said. The prime minister snapped, “What’s so beautiful about it?” Anthony never forgot this. It was an insight into Holt’s state of mind just two days before he was lost in the sea.

At the time, Holt was dealing with scandals over the use of VIP aircraft, the purchase of F-111 bombers and the response to the Voyager disaster (a 1964 collision between two navy ships).

There were regular leaks from cabinet and the backbench was restless. The government had lost seats in a half-Senate election in November. Labor leader Gough Whitlam was proving a much tougher opponent than his predecessor, Arthur Calwell.

Deputy prime minister McEwen and treasurer Billy McMahon had clashed in cabinet over currency devaluation, agriculture and trade policy. Incredibly, ASIO was investigating claims by McEwen that McMahon was supplying journalist Maxwell Newton with cabinet documents that were then passed on to Japan, which undermined trade negotiations.

McEwen suspected Newton of being a foreign agent and raised his concerns about McMahon with Holt. Governor-general Richard Casey, a former minister in the Menzies government, had taken the extraordinary step of mediating between McEwen and McMahon. According to Casey’s diary, he had recently warned McMahon about “stable government” depending on “loyalty”.

A memo from Casey about his unorthodox intervention was in Holt’s briefcase when he disappeared. (Casey arranged for it to be retrieved and returned to him as soon as he heard the news from Portsea.) Holt also had with him letters and documents from McEwen about his disagreements with McMahon. And he had been given a note by McMahon about his meeting with Casey. None of this made for happy reading.

Party whip Dudley Erwin sent a “personal & confidential” letter to Holt three days before he went to Portsea. “Members at all levels of the party have expressed to me feelings of disquiet,” Erwin wrote. “This same feeling seems to be permeating the electorate and is being followed up in the press.” This extraordinary letter was read by Holt and sits in his papers at the National Archives of Australia.

Anthony confirms there was discontent in government ranks. “There was a bit of unhappiness with Holt,” he says. “Holt was a sensitive person. He didn’t like being attacked, being unpopular.”

Ian Sinclair, then minister for social services, was aware of the concerns about Holt, especially inside the Liberal Party.

“There was unhappiness with Harold’s leadership,” Sinclair, 88, tells Inquirer. “There was a feeling that he was not facing up to the economic and social difficulties at the time. And the rivalry within the Liberal Party at the time was such that it also made life a bit difficult for him.

“I didn’t think he was proving to be all that effective when he disappeared. There was a lot of disquiet in the electorate, too.

“I don’t know whether he would have been beaten in the next poll but his disappearance, of course, changed everything.”

Malcolm Fraser, then minister for the army, told me in 2013 that Holt was being undermined and could have faced a leadership challenge. “There were people trying,” he said. “John Gorton was trying. There was talk. Senator Ivy Wedgwood knew of it, and told me of it.”

Paul Hasluck, then minister for external affairs, wrote to Robert Menzies in January 1968, saying: “If Harold had lived, I think we would have been in a dreadful mess. One of the major contributions to that mess would have been the persistent disloyalty of McMahon.” Hasluck also composed a note, stating “there was a movement against Holt” inside the party, and pointed the figure at Gorton.

Fraser said Holt was worried about the escalating war in Vietnam. “He was tormented by the thought of sending conscripts to Vietnam,” he said. “But, at the same time, believed that it was in Australia’s national interest.” Zara said her husband cried in bed at night about the young men being killed in the jungles of Indochina.

Anthony and Sinclair, the only surviving cabinet ministers from the time, have no doubt that Holt’s anxious state of mind could have affected his ability to withstand the rough surf. “He certainly wasn’t happy,” Anthony says. “I don’t think he cared about taking risks out there in the ocean. He shouldn’t have been in the water when it was so wild.”

Sinclair agrees. “If you get a bit weary and a bit tired, and you get distracted, the surf can become beyond your capabilities,” he says.

“My own conclusion is that the sea got him as the sea can, particularly if you are not feeling quite up to yourself.”

The political pressures Holt was facing were not investigated by police. None of his colleagues, who could have offered an insight into his mood and morale, was interviewed. However, Tony Eggleton, Holt’s press secretary, does not recall him being stressed or especially anxious as he walked him to the car when Holt was leaving Canberra on December 15.

“He said there were some problems with the Country Party,” Eggleton, 85, tells Inquirer. “But he smiled and got in the car. I waved and off he went.

“He rang me the next morning. He wanted to talk about the media. Then he talked about the future. He spoke about Europe and Asia, and he was totally positive.”

Sam Holt, the prime minister’s son, was on Sorrento Beach when he heard the news that somebody important was missing.

“I looked up and saw the rescue helicopters heading for Cheviot Beach,” Holt, 78, tells Inquirer. “I knew that it was him.”

Sam Holt is certain his father’s disappearance was an accident. “He never cared much for his personal safety,” he says. “Most people wouldn’t have gone in that surf, but he had an almost casual approach to what others would perceive as being very dangerous.” The prime minister had nearly drowned while snorkelling at the same beach in May that year.

Holt’s lover Marjorie Gillespie, right, with her daughter Vyner.

Harold Holt drove his maroon Pontiac to his Portsea holiday home, arriving on Friday afternoon. He met Gillespie for drinks that evening. The following day there was tennis, drinks and parties. There were no security guards or police with Holt at any time.

His briefcase contained more painkillers than usual for a shoulder problem that was a consequence of playing university football. Eggleton recalls that Holt previously had taken too many pills and that had made him drowsy. Holt’s physician, Marcus Faunce, had examined Holt before he left Canberra and advised him to reduce his swimming and tennis. Holt was also suffering from a crushed vertebra. He had recently visited his orthopedic surgeon, John Cloke, in Melbourne. Cloke later revealed that Holt suffered from chronic pain in his right arm and numbness in his fingers. He was prescribed a mixture of morphine and aspirin. No examination of Holt’s medication was undertaken by police investigators. Cloke was never interviewed.

Yet Faunce inexplicably told police there was “no reason either physical or mental that could cause or contribute to his death under ordinary circumstances”.

About 11.15am on Sunday, Holt drove to Gillespie’s nearby house. At 11.30am or so they departed for Point Nepean to watch round-the-world yachtsman Alec Rose enter Port Phillip Bay. Gillespie sat in the front with Holt while Vyner, Stewart and Simpson followed in a separate car. Then they went to Cheviot Beach, which was not patrolled by lifeguards.

Gillespie later acknowledged she was Holt’s lover and said he planned to marry her. Zara Holt set her straight, saying her husband was “a womaniser” who “was having affairs everywhere”. Gillespie, apparently, was “only one of a string” of lovers in multiple cities. A sex scandal would have threatened not only Holt’s integrity but also his prime ministership.

Another sign of political trouble was a phone call received just hours before Holt disappeared. Housekeeper Mary “Tiny” Lawless later revealed that McMahon had phoned and engaged in highly agitated conversation with Holt. “All right, Billy, if that’s the way you want it, that’s it,” Lawless heard Holt say. This was not mentioned in her statement to police.

When Zara Holt was contacted at the Lodge with the news, she thought her husband would soon be found sitting on a rock under the sun. She was met by Eggleton at Melbourne airport and they drove to Portsea. Eggleton recalls people standing along the roadside with their heads slightly bowed as the prime minister’s wife went by.

“That’s when I really began to think that this was going to be a big international event,” Eggleton says. “I steeled myself because I knew this was going to be a difficult few days. We all wished there was still some hope but I don’t really think we thought there was.”

Eggleton became a familiar figure in lounge rooms across the nation as his grim updates on the search were televised.

Meanwhile, the political wheels were turning fast. McEwen was at home on his farm in Stanhope, Victoria, when he learned about Holt. He immediately arranged to fly to Canberra. He met Anthony, who had flown in from Murwillumbah, NSW, at the Hotel Kurrajong. They agreed to slap a veto on McMahon becoming prime minister.

McEwen manoeuvred quickly. He told Casey that McMahon, the deputy Liberal leader, was unacceptable and that he should be commissioned prime minister instead. The deputy prime minister threatened that if McMahon were sworn in the Coalition would be terminated. McEwen announced this to McMahon directly the next day, and then to the media.

Casey sought constitutional advice from attorney-general Nigel Bowen and spoke to chief justice Garfield Barwick. Casey agreed with McEwen. Holt’s commission was terminated the next day and McEwen was sworn in on Tuesday, December 19. Casey, again improperly, also spoke to possible Liberal leaders Hasluck, Gorton, McMahon and Allen Fairhall, the minister for defence.

The Holt memorial at Cheviot Beach.

Holt’s memorial service was held at St Paul’s Cathedral in Melbourne on Friday, December 22. It was the largest gathering of world leaders to have assembled in ­Australia.

Despite the occasion’s solemnity, Gorton and McMahon were lobbying for support to become prime minister. “It was one of the most sickening public services I’ve ever been to,” Don Chipp, minister for the navy, later remarked.

Gorton, then a senator, was elected Liberal leader on January 9, easily defeating Hasluck, Les Bury and Billy Snedden in a partyroom ballot. McMahon did not contest. But McEwen thought there might be “a difficulty” recommending to Casey that he appoint a senator as prime minister who then planned to resign from the upper house to contest Holt’s Victorian seat of Higgins.

Cabinet notebooks — the handwritten record of meetings — reveal that McEwen asked ministers formally to endorse his recommendation to Casey. “I see a difficulty though not an obstacle,” McEwen told cabinet. “I wish, if I give this advice, to say that I give it with the backing of the ministry.” Casey, however, had no problem swearing in Gorton on January 10.

The police report into Holt’s disappearance concluded he had accidentally drowned. Gorton ruled out an independent investigation. In 2005, the Victorian coroner, who could not conduct an inquest at the time as there was no body, also determined that Holt had drowned.

Holt’s body was never found. The police report suggested it might have been swept out towards Port Phillip Bay. State pathologist James McNamara, suggested sea lice or crayfish could have torn the flesh off his body within 24 hours if it had not already been “ravaged by sharks” or “mutilated” by boat propellers.

Holt was the third Australian prime minister to die in office, following Joe Lyons in 1939 and John Curtin in 1945. He had been prime minister for less than two years. He was 59.

When Holt entered the treacherous surf at Cheviot Beach, he was a deeply troubled man. He was under pressure to improve his performance as prime minister. The cabinet was divided and the backbench was unsettled. He was concerned about Vietnam.

He was having a secret love affair. He was taking strong painkillers for a chronic shoulder injury. And he had a cavalier attitude to his personal safety.

None of this, however, can satisfactorily explain how the prime minister vanished without trace five decades ago.