There are many stories of Mr Sutherland's acerbic side. Here are vignettes that demonstrate the man's uncompromising integrity that will bear on what follows them.
The conversation among the pipers in a Dunedin bar in the early 1920s turned to the general musical hopelessness, or otherwise, of dancers. The well performed piper Cuthbert C. Selby opined that one could miss out a bar and the dancer would never know it. Someone put ten pounds or ten bob on the bar and said, "Do it to Sutherland tomorrow". The time for the open fling arrived, there was not another piper in sight and Selby landed the job of playing for the lot. The competition was charged by the rivalry between the local dancers and the Scot. Come Sutherland's turn - he knew nothing about the bet - and a bar of the tune was omitted.
The dancer returned to the first position in mid flight and bowed to the judge. With arms still akimbo he marched across the stage to Cuthbert C. who was small and feisty and who never recovered from the gas in the First World War. The dancer grabbed the piper, who had a mouth full of blowpipe, by the back of the neck, shook him and hissed, "Play it again, ye bloody little rrrraat!".
Other competitors demurred and the judge ruled sagely that, "It was not the dancer's fault so he should be given another try". The shaken piper managed the complete tune this time and, with an example in front of him, the judge awarded the dancer first prize upon the
repechage. The bet was honoured out of Selby's winnings.
I knew both actors in this drama well, though many years after the event. I possess the pipes that were played and the dancing shoes that were worn in the fiasco.
On another occasion in Dunedin, the piper to Mr Sutherland played faster and faster as he danced until a spectator intervened in the piper's ear, "Not so fast Charlie, I have an interest in this!" The piper was Charlie Stewart, who had a son of little dancing talent though he won prizes. Stewart Snr later became prominent in the Piping and Dancing Association, a point that will be of relevance later in this memoir.
Also in Dunedin, someone in a group of pipers and dancers threatened to hit Mr Sutherland. There was a policeman in the group in civies who prevented a fracas by announcing that, "If there is going to be a fight, I'll be in it."
Episodes such as these, and there were others, were related many times over by Mr Sutherland to my parents and to me. Mr Sutherland was a softly spoken, mild mannered man which may have deceived his antagonists. One does not be a great artist and survive two wars as an NCO without being resolute, a characteristic he would have to draw on in the future.
The incidents provide less a revelation of the characters of the participants than they do an insight into the ambiguity of Mr Sutherland's position in New Zealand, even in his early days here.
The attitude of the New Zealanders involved is inexplicable, though I expect Mr Sutherland would have made clear to them his low opinion of their dancing. For example, he used to refer to regimental army dancers (who were often drawn from the piping corps) in Scotland as "tinkers." The McCann family were later aware of his views of New Zealand 1920's dancers - Mother was a successful one of their number.
In Scotland forty years on Mr Sutherland was remembered:
There was, however, another one, Willie Sutherland of Thurso, who made a great impression and disputed Pirie's right to be uncrowned king. Willie was a tailor by trade and had a habit of sitting with his legs crossed and passing caustic comments on his fellow competitors. On the board he made a marvellous sight and at the Haddow House Games one year he drew a spontaneous comment that describes him perfectly. "Man," said the observer, "Look how well balanced Sutherland is on his legs. You would think his moustache was evenly parted to a hair." From David Webster, 'Scottish Highland Games.' Collins, Glasgow, 1959, p 34.