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It was one of those sweltering days in May when the PAP candidate for Kreta Ayer and his canvassers went campaigning in the squatter slums and labyrinthine lanes of gu chia chwee ("bullock cart water" in Hokkien), the colloquial term for Chinatown.
Dripping in sweat and hoarse from making incessant pleas to residents to vote for the party, the group was relieved when Goh Keng Swee stopped by a sugar cane stall.
As they huddled around the oasis expectantly, the former senior civil servant placed 10 cents, gulped down his drink and mumbled "I have paid for my drink. If you want to have a drink, go ahead", before walking away. They were stunned.
"We looked at him, the stallholder looked at us. We thought he would be giving all of us a drink." Chan Chee Seng, who accompanied Goh on his 1959 election rounds, was recounting yet another anecdote about the legendary thriftiness and frugality of Singapore's famed finance minister.
If that was not ample proof of Goh's parsimony, Chan found it when he rode in his car, a rattling Vauxhall which had seen better days.
It was with a gasp of disbelief when he realised that part of the vehicle's floor panel had corroded to such an extent that "you could see right through to the road".
"You see," he shook his head, "Goh did not even want to pay for a rubber mat to cover the gaping hole, let alone repair it!"
S R Nathan, who worked with Goh in the defence ministry in the 1970s, said that Goh was so averse to spending that whenever he travelled overseas he would carry soap flakes to wash his underwear in the hotel bathroom.
Former diplomat Maurice Baker visited Goh in his hotel room during a trip one day and saw him drying his one and only piece of underwear on the heater.

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