Filling in the Gaps (5 page)

Another incident that occurred around this time was a situation that still causes me anguish to talk or write about today. I was very friendly with a famous actress and we shared many good times and also many sad times over the years. She was heavily involved in a relationship that was not healthy for her for many reasons; it was like being hooked on an awful drug. I visited her one day to find her terribly upset and in uncontrollable tears with her mother and was informed that she had just discovered that she was pregnant. In those days this news would have killed her career instantly, and more importantly she just was not ready emotionally to be a parent. The other issue was that her partner, who was also fairly well known, was not offering in any way to support her if she went full term with her child. She also could not tell her father - such were the times. The decision was made to have an abortion, which then was illegal and dangerous. I pleaded with her to keep the child, not only because I find the thought of terminating something that already has a heartbeat abhorrent, but I would have happily raised the child as my own because I desperately wanted to be a parent and could not see it happening the usual way. I also just loved babies - human and animal - and still do now. They melt my heart. My biggest joy as a teen was baby-sitting, especially for very young babies, which is one reason I became a sort of second parent to my sister Patsy when she was born. I was almost sixteen years old.

The decision was made, the abortion was booked in secret and plans were made for me to drive her with her mother to a house, not a clinic, in an outer suburb. My heart was heavier than I could recall it ever being, plus the matter of my religion was causing me great distress. After we arrived almost in disguise we made our sad goodbyes and her mother and I were sent away and told to phone back later that afternoon. Her mother and I were so upset we barely spoke but held each other's hands. Finally, we picked her up and she was wrapped in a rug and decidedly unwell. As we drove home her mother cradled her in her arms and not a word was said until we reached her home, where she went straight to bed. I stayed on a few hours with her mother until she was awake and sitting up having some soup in bed. The sadness in her eyes still haunts me today and I tear up just thinking about it. I walked home sobbing and on the way dropped into my local church, looking for some kind of peace and asking for forgiveness because I had been a willing party to one of the greatest sins of my church. It still fills me with guilt today. I know all about the arguments for freedom of choice but for me the whole incident was one of the greatest sadness.

John's mum, Lou, and her partner, Lyle, were regular visitors to our place and we had the best time together. His brother Shane was also an occasional visitor and fortunately we all seemed to get on. My dad and mum visited us once and also became very fond of John, which made me so happy. We lived in a sort of duplex in Cremorne and whilst very basic it was a lot of fun. Except for two occasions, one of which was when the cat we had adopted gave birth to six beautiful kittens. They were playing in our back yard when one of them crawled through a little hole in the fence to our neighbour's place where there was a very aggressive ‘pug'-type dog. Next thing I heard a loud, distressing meow and I ran to the hole to pull the kitten back by its tail but only half of the kitten came back - the dog had bitten the kitten in half! I was bereft beyond words and fell to the ground in shock. I cried for days!

The other occasion was late at night when John was working an evening shift at Channel 9. All of a sudden I heard the most blood-curdling screaming and moaning. It was totally terrifying, so much so that I was sure a woman was being murdered. I placed my pillow over my head to lessen the noise and eventually I called the police, who where there within minutes. They banged on the neighbour's door, only to be greeted by two sweaty people who up till then had been in the deepest throes of passion! Until that time I had no idea that women reached as high a state of ecstasy when they climaxed as a men did. I had no idea that women were even
able
to climax! It made me feel not only embarrassed for the neighbours but also shocked and very uncomfortable about women. To my mind they were just the receivers of men's lust, mainly to bear children, as horrible and misogynistic as that may sound, but that's all I knew.

About that time Debbie Reynolds entered my life and made impossible dreams become a reality. I have just watched her receive the Screen Actors Life Achievement Award. We felt so proud of this remarkable woman. I was so lucky that John, too, was a big fan.
From little acorns big oaks grow
- that little acorn of a fan letter to a movie star became life changing several years later.

Debbie, London and Back to Perth

John and I had decided to go our own way by this stage and I had met and formed a relationship with a very charming American who was studying to be a lawyer; he is now one of the top lawyers in Australia. This man was very special to me and also was a huge fan of the singer Shirley Bassey, as was I, although not to the same degree as he was. He had a beautiful singing voice and sang Bassey songs a lot. He had an etching of Shirley above our bed and every night just before we went to sleep we would toast the etching with a gin and tonic, which I hated but drank to try to impress him, being the chameleon I am. We raised our glasses to the etching and said
‘Cheers Shirley'
as
Goldfinger
or another of Shirley's hits played in the background. We even had a beagle we called ‘Shirley Basset
',
even though it was a beagle! Luckily, he - not the dog - was a fan or converted into a fan of Debbie Reynolds, so we flew to Melbourne together to catch her show at The Swagman restaurant. At Debbie's behest I took off to Los Angeles to catch up with her after her Australian tour (see my earlier book). When I went to her dance studio to organise where we would catch up I met her company manager, who was a Chicano - a person of Mexican descent born in the USA. He was gorgeous looking and quite gay but not at all my type. He booked me a hotel room near where I was to meet Debbie after her show at Knott's Berry Farm, a big theme park near Disneyland. I met him and checked in to the hotel a few hours before the show. I had to shower and dress while he lay on the bed watching television. When I came out from the bathroom it was on for young and old - on and off to be exact - him
on
and my towel
off
! To my embarrassment I reciprocated somewhat. After all, he was Debbie's manager and had been so generous to me. As I've always said,
when I do something wrong I do it perfectly
!

Debbie was the perfect hostess. We had our photos taken then had a great night with her team. I probably could have stayed - it was hinted at - but Australia and making a livelihood loomed! My American friend, the Shirley Bassey fan, and I decided to go our separate ways. Who could blame him - so I decided to return to Perth. I was lucky enough to be employed by the now-demolished Playhouse Theatre as front-of-house manager and box office trainee. I had the best of times. I was on the fringes of everything show business and even had a few admirers, not of any particular sexual persuasion but just dear sweet people who seemed to think I was okay. One of them, Stanika, was a refugee from Europe and had been a doctor in her own country, but when she was told she needed refresher training for Australia she refused to undertake it. She was a true eccentric but kinder than I could express here. Often she would bring me flowers wrapped in aluminium foil and when I asked her how she could afford them she said she made a detour through the local cemetery and picked them from various graves! Her family were quite unkind to her at times and I really felt sorry for her, so I would regularly visit her in her very basic and quite sad unit. She passed away a few years ago and Sach and I really wanted to attend her cremation. On arrival at the cemetery we found that the total number of mourners was nine - Sacha, me, her estranged sister and six pall bearers who were all bikers and very heavily tattooed. It was such a shock to us to see them that I asked them how they knew Stanika and told them how kind they were to carry her coffin. They informed me that over the years she had made contact with them and whenever she found out that they were needy and in dire straits she would come to their club rooms with all kinds of food, from soup to full meals, and also helped in other ways. She was on a pension and very needy herself, but her kindness did not really surprise me and still touches me today.

Mind you, I was not all that kind to some people - unintentionally, I hasten to add. One of our regular patrons when I was box office manager at His Majesty's Theatre was severely disabled in a wheelchair. Very severely disabled! However, I was unaware that he had been a professor and lecturer at the University of Western Australia before he became so ill. His mind was still perfect but his body was just a shell. I would hear a loud banging as he manoeuvred his electronic wheelchair through the box office doors but he very much resented any assistance. Once he was inside I would ask him to try to point to the poster of the show he wanted to attend but his frustration only grew. No matter what I tried we could not connect and understand each other. Finally, he pointed to a sort of Monopoly board that was in a pouch behind his wheelchair. With great difficulty he managed to spell out the words ‘I AM NOT AN IDIOT!' I was mortified and very upset. Soon after a new staff member arrived who was very willing and able to communicate with him. To my great shame, after that incident whenever I heard the wheelchair banging and crashing its way into the box office I would hide under the counter and send my staff member out to assist him. I believe he is still around today and I hope that he is dealing with people who are kinder to him than I was.

Another interesting and sad patron during my term as box office manager at His Majesty's Theatre was a gentleman I only knew as Reg. He was quite elderly and never seemed to be very well. He bought just one ticket to every show and always asked to sit at the back of the theatre and on the aisle because he said he had an odour emanating from his body that was offensive to a lot of people. He had often been abused and asked to leave public transport because of this odour. I always felt very much for this man and became involved in several lengthy conversations with him. He occasionally abused me for some minor thing, which he would explain later was caused by his ‘illness', so it was easy to make allowances.

I eventually asked him if he would mind explaining to me what had happened to him to cause the awful odour, not to mention a large number of open and weeping sores on his body. I could only see the sores on his arms and neck but apparently they were all over his body. He explained that in 1956 the British and Australian governments tested nuclear devices on the Maralinga Range in South Australia called ‘Operation Buffalo'. Prior to selection, the Maralinga site was inhabited by the Pitjantjatjara and Yankunytjatjara Aboriginal people, for whom it had a great spiritual significance. Many of them were relocated to a new settlement at Yulata, and attempts were made to curtail access to the Maralinga site. Sadly, these were often unsuccessful. Reg was one of the servicemen who was used as a sort of guinea pig on these sites. The authorities never acknowledged this until they were forced to because so many servicemen were either dying or becoming very ill from all kinds of sickness. In 2001, Dr Sue Rabbit Roff, a researcher from the University of Dundee, uncovered documentary evidence that troops had been ordered to run, walk and crawl across areas contaminated by the Buffalo tests in the days immediately following the detonations. One of these troops was Reg, as the British government later admitted. Dr Roff stated that
“it puts the lie to the British government's claim that they never used humans for guinea pig-type experiments in nuclear weapons trials in Australia.”
Reg finally received a small pension but nothing could ever compensate for what he had been through.

I am very glad that Reg came into my life; he taught me a lot of things. However, my staff, including Sach, could not serve him because the odour would make them retch. I often used to walk Reg into the back of the theatre without paying for a ticket if a show wasn't too full and he was so grateful that his tired old eyes would fill up and he would have to blow his nose to disguise his tears. I know that he had children but they were estranged. I have not seen Reg in years but often think of him and the service he did for his country that was barely recognised, and I pray that wherever he is he is at peace.

At about this time I met a person who was in Perth touring with a big show from the UK and I decided to go back to England with him. It was not a successful relationship and I shoulder most of the blame, so we parted. I was very lucky to have received some wonderful reviews for my last book - all except one! In spite of the big number of good reviews it was that one bad review that really got to me. It was unrealistic to expect everyone to like the book but that one really stung. I was determined to get to the source of the nasty comments, which were headed ‘
A Pretentious Load of Rubbish'.
I finally found out that they were made by the ex-lover mentioned above. I was probably a bit unkind towards him but finding out who it was made his comments not hurt as much. In fact, they barely touch me!

London was nothing like I expected. My dreams had always been of all things American but being in glorious London I was able to start to appreciate the many charms of this great city. The wonderful aromas of Chinatown, the buzz of Piccadilly and Oxford Circuses, the magnificent theatres of which there were just so many, but most of all the people who lived there. I will never ever forget the kindness and hospitality shown to this naïve Aussie, long before I had any association with Su Pollard. Everywhere I went from working in a theatre to a drink in a local bar I made new pals. Some of those dear pals I have reconnected with through Facebook, which delights me including the aforementioned Ian Howells - if they read this they will know who they are. Mind you, some of those pals were probably not as genteel as one would have wished. One friend from work took me to a tiny little club in Soho, which seated about twenty persons and had a very small platform in the front. We sat in the back row right near the exit during lunch hour from work. Lights dimmed and suddenly a male dancer appeared on the platform and started to slowly strip, encouraged by money stuck into his G-string as he danced up the aisle and returned to the stage. He then removed his attire and slowly gyrated down the aisle again, allowing anyone on the aisle to have a quick ‘feel ‘or even a bit more! To say I was shocked would be an understatement, especially because we saw a person in the audience we both knew casually and who was VERY well known. We took off like two naughty schoolboys!

I believe that my beloved Madame Jojo's, where Su and I spent many happy hours, has recently closed. I loved the piano bar at Madame Jojo's when, after their shows, casts from West End musicals would gather around the piano for the best sing-a-longs I have ever experienced. It was a magic time for me! Su knew many of the cast in West End musicals and we loved to go to JoJo's
piano bar after the final curtain. The very
Best of Times
indeed! Whenever we had friends visit from Australia or elsewhere we always took them to Jojo's and without exception they all loved it, especially when the bar became a stage and the most amazing drag shows were presented. I caught several ‘straight' friends tantalised by the near naked male bar staff! Not me though - I was a married man. Do I detect doubters?

Working in the box office in London was such a joy because I was able to see almost every show and the box office staff, without exception, was always totally welcoming. One of the first shows I saw was
Marilyn
with the magnificent Stephanie Lawrence at the Adelphi Theatre, where Su would later star in
Me & My Girl.
I also adored
Joe Allen's
where, as a performer entered the premises the pianist played their latest hit or a song from the show they were currently appearing in. I was also reminded the other day by a pal on Facebook of the Peacock Bar next door to the Adelphi stage door. They even had a signed photograph of Su and me on their wall. I was very honoured!

On one occasion I had been to a bar in Earl's Court where I met a charming chap who seemed intrigued by my Australian accent and we seemed to click on a superficial level. Whilst many of the hotel patrons were in leather chaps, he was in a suit, so I felt he was some sort of businessman. Little did I know the ‘business' he was in ‘after hours'! I agreed to meet him the next night in his nearby flat and was looking forward to getting to know him better - not THAT way but just as a new social friend. I knocked on the door, which was opened by this apparition. He looked a lot like the Spiderman character popular today but he was all black with only his lips visible and when he turned around I was confronted by his bare behind. He definitely
was
a Spiderman type and getting out of his web took me almost an hour. I used every trick in the book - feigned a migraine, said I felt faint, that I was new to the gay scene and more. His type of scene certainly was new and very scary. He was just about to turn quite nasty when I hit the road. It was years before I returned to
that
pub!

Through my work in theatre I did make some very special friends, some of whom I am still in touch with today. However, the most awful incident happened, which I did not mention in my first book because it scared me and turned my stomach. My reason for mentioning it now is that an aspect of it recently surfaced in the news and brought back to mind the experience I had with a very high-profile MP at that time. The MP, who was probably in his late forties and whom I had met on several occasions socially, knew how interested I was in the beautiful and historical buildings in London, so he asked me to lunch at the Houses of Parliament one day, which I was thrilled to accept. After passing through several security checks, we went to his office briefly before lunch. To say I was overawed would be an understatement. He then he took me on a private tour of parts of the building the average tourist would never see. I was so excited I had to keep taking deep breaths. Everywhere I went I kept touching the walls, trying to comprehend the history of the place, which I still can barely grasp. We ended up meeting some of his friends in the Terrace Pavilion, which was like a marquee on the Thames side of the Houses of Parliament. All was light and only a bit formal so we decided to meet at this MP's home in Wimbledon where we could all relax a bit more easily. Did I mention that all of those mentioned above were gay, not overtly or flamboyantly, but definitely gay?