Behind The Rock

16

 

JO’K AND THE MARCHING GIRLS

 

 

 

 

LEON: The Rajahs returned from New Zealand and went straight back into the waiting arms of Nick Devery and the Canopus Room. We’d hardly had time to unpack before JO’K was on the phone for another spot on Sing, Sing, Sing. I think he’d missed us. This meant another session at Festival to pre-record some songs for the show: another Beatle song for the Rajahs to sing It Won’t Be Long, followed by the Dave Clark Five hit Can’t You See That She’s Mine? We also put down backing tracks Long Tall Sally and Carol, for Paul Wayne and Ian Turpie respectively. “Turps” flew up from Melbourne to do the show. The Bee Gees were also on, singing The Hollies’ number Just One Look. We all got together at the end of the show to sing some crazy Hawaiian number while we danced around like fools wearing silly looking sarongs.

“I hope you guys are in Actors’ Equity,” grumbled one of the more militant professional dancers. “Sure,” said Jon, “Leon’s father is the head of the Boilermaker’s Union.” This meaningless statement seemed to satisfy him and we continued to dance on like constipated ducks.

Barry Gibb from the Bee Gees was still peeved at us being referred to as Australia’s Beatles. “We should be Australia’s Beatles,’ he protested, (in his sarong) “After all, we were singing ‘yeah, yeah, yeah’ even before the Beatles.” Barry should have been thankful that they didn’t get the Aussie Beatles title. They certainly ended up doing a lot better than the Rajahs. It seemed like we were stuck with the Beatle tag whether we liked it or not.

After a lot of laughs in the Preview Room watching a replay of what we all just did on the show, JO’K invited us up to the 729 Club, a favourite hangout for people who worked in the television industry. Just for a gag, along with JO’K, Paul Wayne and Turps, we all wore our Hawaiian sarongs but nobody even batted an eyelid. It seemed as though they were quite used to anything that JO’K was liable to do and probably considered it normal behaviour for the 729 Club. Regular, Brian Henderson didn’t think we looked unusual at all. He just continued to hammer away at his poker machine, completely oblivious to the unlikely looking band of bogus Hawaiians. The only positive reaction we got all night was when Michael did a wonderful “trick-knee” at the bar. This was always followed by a great commotion as Michael lay on his back and we pretended to straighten his leg out.

While I took a hair-raising ride home in Jok’s Mark 10 Jag, Jon and Paul left early to go up to Surf City at the Cross and check out a couple of hot new bands that had just emerged on the scene – Billy Thorpe & the Aztecs and Ray Brown & the Whispers. Thorpie’s Poison Ivy had hit No 1 on the Top Forty while we were away   and now the Beatles had just arrived in Sydney. Beatlemania and rock’n’roll were raging and, although we had a hit with Shout, our own single Kiss Me Now had just about cacked out.

It was time to go back into the studio and record something else while there was still a glimmer of interest in the Rajahs. We put down four tracks the following month, so we would have something to choose from. Everybody seemed to like our version of the Everly Brother’s classic, Cathy’s Clown but that would have to wait. In the meantime, Festival released another Rajahs’ EP, which was doing pretty well.

On July 10 1964, I had the rather dubious honour of riding with Nosmo in his green 1959 Wolseley 4/44, which he had just bought the day before. We drove to Kirribilli Church for the wedding of Sue and Digby Richards, which turned out to be a very pleasant occasion with all our good friends in attendance. After the wedding, we had to drive back to The Can for the gig that night. Nosmo had just finished telling me what a great car the Wolseley was and how it was once used by the British police. As we reached the top of Sydney Road, which leads down to Manly, Nosmo turned to me and said, “We’ve run out of skids!”

“What do you mean?” I replied with a slight note of panic. “The brakes have gone. What do you want me to do? Go for the hill and hope the lights are green at the bottom, or do a sharp left into somebody’s house?” I looked at the steep hill that confronted us. By the time we hit the bottom we would be doing about a 100 miles per hour. “TURN LEFT!” I screamed, vainly trying to remain as calm as Nosmo seemed to be. Nosmo’s Wolseley almost turned over as we swerved to the left and crashed through some poor guy’s fence and mounted the front garden. The owner wasn’t too impressed when he saw Nosmo’s car in his front yard with one of the front wheels still spinning amongst a bed of crushed flowers. The police arrived on the scene a little while later and somehow Nosmo seemed to talk his way out of this embarrassing situation. We eventually ended up at The Can just in time to start playing.

“Next time I think I’ll buy an MG,” said Noz thoughtfully. “I think that would be more my style.” Nothing seemed to faze Nosmo. “Make sure you get one with brakes this time,” I added sarcastically.

Johnny O’Keefe arrived at The Can later that night and was very excited about an up-and-coming tour to Western Australia. He was anxious for us to start rehearsals with the support artists he had chosen – Paul Wayne, The Taylor Sisters, George Karren and Marlene Atcheson. During rehearsals at a Billy Thorpe dance venue called The Beach House, JO’K was very particular about how and what the support artists sang on the W.A. tour. His reasoning was that if the audiences didn’t like the support acts, then they would blame it on Johnny O’Keefe. After all, this was going to be The Johnny O’Keefe Show and it had to be something special!

JO’K didn’t like anything to be mediocre. He would take great delight in adding a little touch of class, even when he quoted for the band. It was never £300; it was always 300 guineas (£315) and the confirmation was always made on embossed paper with JO’K gold lettering. O’Keefe always liked to be just that little bit better. He once said to me, “If you keep telling people how great you are, it’s bound to rub off on someone.”

Jok had chosen the Cilla Black hit ballad You’re My World for Marlene Atcheson to sing on the show. During the first rehearsal, Marlene protested, “It’s too high for me, John, I can’t reach the top notes.” “Too high?” Jok screamed, “I’ll give you ‘too fuckin’ high!’ Put it up a tone!” While poor Marlene sang the chorus up a tone, Jok screeched along with her as she tried to reach the high notes. “You can do it. Sing it louder! You’re my wo-or-ld… squawk!” Jok proved to be right as this ended up as one of Marlene’s strongest numbers in the show. Pusillanimous performances were prohibited!

Another extra touch of class was introduced when Milton Saunders was brought in to augment the band on piano. “Milty” was the musical co-ordinator for Sing, Sing, Sing and had been the resident pianist for ATN Channel 7 ever since it started way back in 1957 with the Captain Fortune Show. He was also on the early Romper Room shows, where he was known as “Mister Music”.  Uncle Milty was the consummate musician and could play just about anything. He loved the idea of touring with a big rock’n’roll show – and this one was going to be a beauty!

All we needed now was a tour manager and Jok wanted somebody he could trust implicitly, someone who could look after the tour arrangements and mayoral receptions; and most important of all, count the ticket sales to see that we weren’t being ripped off. The perfect choice was made – Johnny O’Keefe’s cousin and part-time long distance swimmer, Des Renford. This was before Des went on to swim the English Channel more times than Darcy Dugan escaped from jail. After a few more rehearsals and a couple of impromptu jams with Jok at The Can, we were ready to embark on our W.A. tour. It looked like I was going to spend another birthday in Perth!

Jok decided that the Rajahs needed some flash new black dinner suits to fit his new conservative image, so we went off to our favourite rock’n’roll tailor, Andy Ellis, for a last minute fitting. “We’ve got to show the Westies that we’re not just loud rock’n’rollers,” said Jok, trying to put on his best serious face, “The Lion’s Club has arranged a mayoral reception in every place we’re playing.” They were paying a lot of money for this tour and the profits were going to underprivileged children, so Jok wanted to show them that they were getting more than their money’s worth.

Sure enough, as we boarded the plane for Kalgoorlie, we were ushered into our first class seats. This was the first time a large plane was ever diverted to Kalgoorlie. As well as the fans, they expected a lot of the locals to come out to the airport just to see the plane! The TAA DC6b landed at the Goldfields at 6.45 pm and, as predicted by the local rag, there were about 400 screaming fans there to greet us as we stepped off the plane. A police escort took us to the Kalgoorlie Palace Hotel and, the following day after a mayoral reception at the Council Chambers, we played our first show at the Kalgoorlie Town Hall.

The Rajahs opened the show to an incredible reception from the locals. It was almost as good as the first time we played there with Dig Richards & the R’Jays back in 1960, only this time we were a little more sophisticated and so was the crowd! “Guitar megaphones were turned up for maximum thrust” and the decibels still bounced off the walls!

The rest of the acts were a little nervous on the first show except for George Karren whose experience shone through. His easy, relaxed manner won them over in no time at all. Needless to say, by the end of the show when JO’K came on, they all went completely berserk. This was a promise of things to come and a great start to the tour. “If you thought that the reception was good in Kalgoorlie, wait till you get to Perth airport,” said one of the tour organisers.

As we boarded our own private DC3, we were told that there were more than 4,000 people waiting for us at Perth airport - along with a brass band and five teams of marching girls. The local Perth support band, The Nomads had driven all the way from Perth so they could step off the plane with us and share in the glory of the huge reception. Our DC3 crew consisted of a captain, a co-pilot and a spunky looking hostess named Val. There was plenty of room for the whole cast including all our gear. The sun was shining at Kalgoorlie airport. It was going to be a great day!

The DC3 lifted off and climbed very slowly up into the white clouds and headed for Perth. After about twenty minutes, the clouds started to change colour and the plane seemed to be shaking a lot more than usual. “I can’t see a bloody thing out the window,” said Michael. “It’s all gone black.” Suddenly the plane started shaking violently and a few minutes later the captain’s voice came over the intercom. “We seem to have run into a huge thunderstorm. I am going to have to put the aircraft down. Please fasten your seat belts.” As the plane started to go into a dive, Nosmo screamed out, “What about the marching girls?”

“Fuck the marching girls!” said Milton, poking his head up from his seat. Nobody was laughing. Even the hostess looked worried. After a series of giant bumps, we finally hit the ground.

The wind was blowing so fiercely that the aircraft was still shuddering after we came to a halt. Everyone was so stunned we all gave the captain a round of applause for saving our lives. “Where are we?” said Jok looking like a stunned mullet as he stood up and steadied himself on Des Renford’s sleeve. We had landed at a little airport called Cunderdin, which was about 100 miles from Perth… a Cunderdin of a place. The wind was still blowing a gale and through the rain outside I could see three small planes lying upside down on the tarmac.

The first brave pair to leave the plane and run for the waiting car was Milton and Paul Wayne who were blown off their feet in the process. Instead of running in a straight line, the wind forced them into a wide arc from which they only just recovered. There was much confusion as everyone prepared themselves for the perilous dash to the car. “Come on Jon, we’ve got to make a run for it!” I said. But I looked across at Jon and he wasn’t moving. He was a horrible shade of GREEN!

 

THE MILD ONE

 

JON: GREEN?! Green with a touch of grey! I felt like Buddy Holly when he asked for a window seat. I was feeling dreadful. I had never been airsick before and I never wanted to be again. Thank God, Marlene wasn’t sitting next to me. I was starting to get to the handholding stage with her after dinner in Kalgoorlie and I didn’t want her to see me like this.

   The Johnny O’Keefe travelling circus was supposed to land at Perth airport where thousands of kids, a fifty-piece brass band and five teams of marching girls were waiting for us. After the storm had passed over Cunderdin, it headed west towards Perth. Our pilot contacted Perth by radio and they said that we couldn’t land there, the airport was closed and yes… all the people, band and marching girls had gone home in disgust.

The local football team very kindly drove us into Perth. I got shoved into the back seat, which always makes me sick, so I continued being green (“It’s not easy being green!”) all the way to the Charles Hotel in Perth. Another reception! Not the mayor this time but a press reception. O’Keefe handled it with his usual aplomb. It didn’t matter whether John was doing a show, delivering a speech to dignitaries or handling the press, the listeners hung on his every word. Sometimes he would put a few in-jokes in his speeches and it was very hard for us to keep from loudly cracking up in front of all the toffs but he would deliver them with such a straight face that the local big wigs always thought he was deadly serious.

   Fortunately, we didn’t have a show that night and were allowed to relax at the Charles until the next day when we would travel south to Bunbury. That night I sat in the lounge and stared into Marlene’s brown eyes. I don’t know what the attraction was. I think I was mostly feeling protective of her since the You’re My World debacle at the Beach House rehearsals back in Sydney. Jok certainly singled her out for some rough treatment.

THE ROSE HOTEL, BUNBURY, MONDAY, JULY 27: An old face reappeared. Bob Purvis of the famed Purvisonic Sound was our soundman. Leon and I hadn’t seen him since Dig’s tour back in 1960 (Go West Young Man) and he couldn’t wait to show us all the latest sound gear he had for the fabulous JO’K Show. At yet another rehearsal at the Mayfair Theatre that afternoon, we officially met The Nomads, who were the local band on the show.

   The Rajahs killed them that night. It was a good show all round and the place was packed. Who else could pack out a theatre in Bunbury on a Monday night but The Wild One, himself? “I don’t feel like The Wild One wearing this dinner suit on stage, Jon,” O’Keefe said to me after the show. “No, more like The Mild One,” I replied, “But as long as you still act wild on stage, that’s all that matters.”

   JO’K was going through his respectability period. He had to prove to the establishment that he was not merely one of those illiterate, gross rock’n’rollers. Gone was the leopard skin and the ‘rooting’ of the microphone stand. It was replaced by an immaculate dinner suit and the upright, hands-behind-the-back stance. The fetish even went as far as our clothes. We had to purchase some very expensive (and very classy, I might add) dinner suits to wear on stage during O'Keefe's spot. Also, a new musical fetish had entered his brain.

   “Every song must end with a long major chord,” he said to us at rehearsals.

   “What? No ninths, sixths, sevenths, thirteenths? How boring. What do you mean by every song? Some of them end with a dead stop!” I complained.

   “Well, they don’t now, and I don’t want any of those jazz chords! After every song, I will say the last word of the song, then you guys will play a long MAJOR chord when I bow… got it?”

   “You mean at the end of She Wears My Ring, you’re going to bow and say, ‘My Ring’ and we all play a chord?” piped up Nosmo.

   “Exactly!” said the ‘mild’ Wild One, not quite grasping the significance of Nosmo’s comment. Well, we all fell about laughing over this one but, as usual, he was right. You see, a long chord is a positive signal to an audience that the song is finished and it’s time to applaud. A dead stop confuses them and they are then tentative about their applause – and John did not like tentative applause. Although he had the new image with the dinner suit, he still had the audience in the palm of his hand. He could have told them all to fart in unison and I’m sure they would have!

   Once, earlier in his career, he had a rather hostile audience who were throwing eggs and heckling. He said to them, “you may throw things and you may boo me but you all pay your money to come and see me because YOU ALL LOVE ME!” “Hooray!” screamed the audience as one. He had won them over again. He surely was Australia’s greatest showman.

   Okay, back in the old DC3 and off to Geraldton Civic Centre for a mayoral reception and a bit of a nosh-up on some cold collations out in the hallway. John was giving his address to the local dignitaries and a small number of press people. “Where are the other people in your show?” asked one of the female journos, interrupting Jok’s speech. “Oh, they’re all braffing out in the hall,” answered Jok. “Oh, how nice!” replied the journo, probably dying to get at all the free food and drink. “Braffing” was the current word for farting and hearing our lord and master say this to the locals had us spitting food and guffawing loudly out in the hallway. He then continued his speech.

   “I don’t think I’ve seen a finer Civic Centre since I have been in your fair state.” He’d been in W.A. at least three days and hadn’t seen any civic centres! They loved him; he should have gone into politics!

   On to Shepherds Hotel with no time for a rest before dinner. “John, I feel awful,” I said to Jok. “Have you got any of those purple hearts?”

“Sure, here you go!” said Jok, giving me a large handful. “How many do I take?” I asked. “As many as you like,” he said. I took six. Well, I was flying! Speeding out of my brain, faster than a speeding bullet, able to jump girl singers in a single bound! Might give a Taylor sister a try tonight; heaven knows, I was getting nowhere with Marlene!

   Purple hearts were actually Drinimal, a very strong amphetamine, prescribed for John after his last nervous breakdown along with all the downers to put him to sleep and calm his nerves. He was not a raving drug addict, as some people seemed to think. I never saw him smoke a joint on the tour. All he had were his prescribed drugs. He just sometimes used to take more than required. I’m also sure that all his nervous breakdowns were caused by his car accident. The poor bugger really had some nasty head injuries.

   After the show at Geraldton Radio Theatre that night, I was beginning to come down from the purple hearts, so I took the rest, - about twelve of them! JO’K suggested we stay up all night because we had to leave in the DC3 at 5am. This suited me fine. Who could sleep? I figured that I could catch forty winks on the plane. I was wrong.

   As soon as I got in my seat and we reached the top of the climb, I tried to doze off. I started having the most frightening involuntary jumps, almost like convulsions. I can tell you sports fans; it scared the shit out of me! No more than six hearts from then on.

   On arrival in Albany, we were greeted with a round of applause at the airport and it was straight to the Town Hall where there was another mayoral reception and we were each presented with a whale’s tooth stuck to a piece of wood. If you think that was crook, we were later taken to the whaling station to witness the flensing of some whales. It all seemed quite barbaric and the stench was abominable!

   The next night was a very important affair at the Charles Hotel in Perth: the Lord Mayor’s charity dinner, at which we were expected to perform along with the Ron Jenkins’ band. They supplied all the soppy music for the ‘jewellery rattlers’, commonly known as ‘dinner music’ for people who aren’t hungry. The Nomads, the local Bunbury band, who had not been required, since Bunbury, were not required to perform for this show either. They still managed, however, to drag themselves along for the free food and drink. The bass player was a particularly obnoxious person, especially when really pissed. Such was the occasion tonight.

    “How come you guys get all the attention? You’re no better than us,” he wailed interrupting a very deep and meaningful conversation between Michael and the Lord Mayor and even spilling some of his champagne on the Mayor himself! “Who is this man?” spluttered the Mayor. Half a dozen or so waiters, who were quite adept at ejecting fools when the Charles was running on the full eight cylinders, ushered the offending bass player out and then kicked him down the stairs!

   “What a strange person,” said the Mayor as he resumed his conversation with Michael. “Dickhead of the year,” whispered Jok in my ear. “Never mind, tomorrow is another day.” I mused over this one but I knew that the “mild” Wild One had something up his sleeve.

   The next afternoon at the Capitol Theatre, there was an audition to see which local band would be supporting The Johnny O’Keefe Show – Johnny & the Strangers or (you guessed it) The Nomads.

The Nomads had played about two bars of their first song when O’Keefe abruptly stood up and yelled, “Stop the music! You’re all playing different songs. GET OFF!” They looked like the proverbial trap-door had opened underneath them. It had! The other band, Johnny & the Strangers played well and of course, became our local support act.

The “Johnny” was none other than John De Jong, better known as our beloved JOHNNY YOUNG, who went on to become a minor pop idol and inspire, guide and nurture into show business some of our finest entertainers on his TV show, Young Talent Time.

   That night, the show at the Capitol was a raging, stage-storming, screaming success. Des counted the tickets for a packed house and everyone went over well. Jok structured the show from start to finish, running around like a man possessed, fixing sound, lighting etc. for everybody’s act. The Johnny O’Keefe Show meant exactly that. All acts had to be perfect as well as him because it was his arse that was on the line. He also knew the importance of having an act on before him that wouldn’t upstage him, having done just that himself to American acts at the Stadium, particularly the Ricky Nelson show. Marlene was a safe bet, so she went on before John. At the end of her performance someone yelled from the wings “Johnny’s not ready yet. You’ll have to do another song.”

   Marlene was panic-stricken! She didn’t have another song. We all looked at each other with silly looks on our faces while a hush fell over the audience. Finally, Noz yelled out the name of some song that everyone knew, even Marlene. The show went on, as it always must. The audience didn’t suspect anything was wrong and John came on and fractured them as usual.

   That night there was a party back at the Charles Hotel in the upstairs lounge. Everyone who was anyone in Perth was there. During the party, at a time when Jok was severely pissed and feeling in a particularly mischievous mood, Marlene decided to complain to Jok about having to do an extra song. Bad timing!

   Jok’s loud reply in front of all the Perth glitterati was, “The reason you had to do another fucking song was because I was up in the fucking lighting box, lighting your fucking show. Now learn this fucking business!” A deadly hush fell over the upstairs lounge and Marlene slunk off to bed without another word. Sure did liven up the party though! I thought of going to her room and consoling her but decided to let sleeping dogs lie… oops!

   The next day being a Saturday, we had three shows at the Capitol. All were sold out and were really raging shows with Marlene doing the originally prescribed amount of songs! JO’K was definitely the King of Perth. After being given the key to the city by the Lord Mayor when we first arrived in a fleet of Jaguars, there were no more awards for Jok to collect, except for the mandatory gold record presentation at the local TV station.

   Sunday night we had a farewell party at Joe’s place (who’s Joe? It’s in the Crazy Book!?). We said our goodbyes to all the people who had treated us so well, including the crew of the DC3. I think Jok may have received another award from Val, the hostess of said aircraft, but of course this was just hearsay!

MONDAY, AUGUST 3: We took the long flight back to Sydney in a DC6b via Adelaide. The whole flight was spent in the rear lounge getting pissed, playing Blackjack and generally celebrating our successful tour of W.A. My Val (not the hostess) was at Mascot airport to meet me.

 

THE BOARD OF DIRECTORS

 

   I couldn’t put my finger on it but there was something strange about Val’s behaviour at the airport. When I suggested we go back to her place, she said, “Oh darling, I’m very tired from waiting here all this time (the plane was late as usual). Come over tomorrow.” So the airport welcome was sort of “Hi there, bye there!” Well I wasn’t going to buy that one. That night I fired up the Chrysler and went to Val’s. ‘Surprise, surprise!’ as Gomer Pyle would say. Val had a visitor. None other than Kevin Wilson, a waiter from The Can. “Oh darling, Kevin was just passing and decided to drop in.” Kevin lived at Manly and Val at Gladesville! I was about to say “drop off” to Kevin when I remembered that he was a gun freak and, although a seemingly nice bloke had been noticed getting great pleasure out of kicking ejected patrons’ heads in, outside The Can. Being a lover, not a fighter, I said nothing and merely left. I had never fought over a woman and wasn’t about to start with gun-toting Kevin! This cut me deeply, being the first cut. No woman had ever drawn blood from me. What was happening? The Chrysler became the ‘Cry-sler’ on the way home to Strathfield and Mum. I resisted the temptation to cry on her shoulder. After all, I was twenty-two and supposed to be a man. It was time to trace the whereabouts of my old flame Irene.

   Without having to look up the phonebook under ‘Prostitutes’, I finally found her through some mutual friends. She was no longer a common street-girl. Oh no! Now she was a high-priced call-girl – phone only! She was living in a nice apartment at Edgecliff with three other high-priced call-girls and I was invited to spend as much time there as I liked. For free! Although this was of course, morally unacceptable to me… I forced myself. So much so, that I was soon part of the furniture. The other girls were Christine, an early acquaintance of Irene and mine and a right raver, along with Robyn and Helen.

   Irene didn’t seem to mind me helping myself to the other girls’ wares while she was out on a call to some rich Jewish, Hungarian or what-ever-type businessman from Double Bay and environs. The fridge was always full of food and grog so, basically, I wanted for nothing. Apart from all this newfound luxury, I never at any stage took any money from any of the girls. I was not a pimp!

   It was a strange kind of relationship with Irene, a sort of “ships-in-the-night” thing. I guess we loved each other but it was a very open-ended sort of affair. She didn’t mind me having a good time with the other girls, sometimes all of us together, and I didn’t seem to mind her being screwed by her clients because that’s all they were – clients. Strictly business as far as she was concerned. It was the same with all of the girls, except maybe Chris. I think she enjoyed every bit of every encounter and would still come home and get off on the vibrator!

   For a confirmed but acquitted ‘sex fiend’, this situation was heaven. The weeks rolled along merrily with the four girls and the happy sex-fiend having a wonderful time. I even found time to take Irene and Robyn on a little weekend holiday down to Narooma in Robyn’s Batwing Chevrolet. I spent the whole weekend hopping from bed to bed in the Narooma Motel.

   One Saturday night I brought the Rajahs back from The Can for a little party. I guess you could call it a little orgy! Being fans of the band, the girls were very hospitable, catering to everyone’s desires in a most professional manner. They performed lesbian exhibitions for us and everybody swapped around until the male members went limp. This was commonly known as the “dead munka syndrome”. It seemed that the girls had a much larger sexual appetite than the band. Maybe we needed a bigger band!

   Robyn fancied the Drummer and Christine seemed to develop a liking for Nosmo. Noz cornered me in the kitchen at one stage during the night and said, “So, this is what you’ve been up to eh?” “Yeah about time you started sharing with the boys,” said Michael interjecting through the kitchen door. “Okay you guys, enjoy yourselves,” I replied, “But nobody screws Irene, got it?” Everyone agreed. This may seem to be a strange chauvinistic quirk of mine. It was okay for Irene to do it with the clients and it was okay for me to play around with the other girls but I wouldn’t allow Irene to do it for anyone for free except me. She was happy to go along with this. Most prostitutes differentiate very strongly between ‘clients’ and ‘boyfriends’. When they love you, they are more faithful than most women. Irene and I were even considering getting married. Well, I didn’t have to worry about her past; I already knew the worst.

   We were still working at The Can with the occasional guest artists. JO’K had started coming over to do the floorshow with us. He loved working live with the band and, although he was making quite enough money with Sing, Sing, Sing, and lots of record royalties, he really enjoyed singing with us at The Can for nothing.

   Irene and the girls had started coming to The Can and frequently embarrassing us by being very obvious and giving £10 tips to the waiters. One night after we got home, Helen said, “I really fancy that O’Keefe. Why don’t you bring him over one night with the boys?”

 “I’ll see what I can do Helen but I can’t promise anything,” I said, thinking to myself, “I reckon he’d jump at it!”

   One memorable Sing, Sing, Sing, around this time was yet another “Battle Of The Bands”, which had us pitted against three other up-and-coming bands. They were Billy Thorpe & the Aztecs, Ray Columbus & the Invaders (Both nodding furiously) and Ray Hoff & the Off Beats. Ray Hoff was now in his “Rolling Stones” period: “Sing the blues, man and try to look as scungy as possible!” He succeeded! Unfortunately for Ray, Australia was not ready for scunge. The Rajahs played It’s So Right, our new record, Cathy’s Clown and I Should Have Known Better. Maybe we should have! I guess Thorpie won. He nodded the fastest and had the biggest hit records.

   Jok said to us after the show, “What are all these orgies you guys have been talking about?” “Oh, Jon’s living with a hooker at Edgecliff and she’s got three horny girlfriends,” said Leon. “Yeah, sometimes we go over there and swap around all night!” Noz added. “Listen, John,” I said, “Why don’t you come over tonight?” I’ll give you the address. We’ll be there anyway.”

“Okay, I just might take you up on that one,” said Jok. “I’ll have to finish up some business here first. Will around midnight be too late?”

“Mate, we go all night. Don’t worry!” I said.

   When we got back to Irene’s flat, I told the girls The Wild One might come around. Much panic! Much doing of hair! All amidst us trying to start the orgy straight away. I think they were trying to preen themselves for the fabulous J.O.K. “Have you got any KY jelly, Chris?” “No Robyn, I haven’t.” “I’ve got a spare tube!” yelled Irene from our room. Just like a bunch of randy old hens!

   Jok arrived, still with TV make-up on and dinner suit, bearing two bottles of vintage champagne. When he partied, he partied! He was surprised to find that everybody else was in the nude! “Let’s put some records on and have a good time, eh girls?” said The Wild One nervously. “Fuck the records,” said Helen. She had his zipper down and her mouth on him before he could speak again. After that, he didn’t speak much anymore. Actions speak louder than words!

   The orgy careered on through the night as usual. Mike and Nosmo had left earlier with cancelled leave-passes and dead munkas, so it was left to Leon, Jok and I to keep the girls satisfied. Chris definitely had a thing about Nosmo. One of my last memories of this night was Chris lying on the lounge room floor, getting off with a lighted candle, while we yelled out “Nosmo, Nosmo!” to help get her off.

   The last memory was, after Irene and I had retired to the half-demolished master bedroom at dawn. We looked out the window and noticed the Mark 10 Jag, still sitting in the carpark. Over the soft whirring of Christine’s vibrator and a few muffled cries of, “Nosmo, Nosmo” another voice was coming from the lounge room phone. The voice said, “I’ll be home soon darling, there was a late night Board of Director’s meeting at Channel 7.” A party at Irene’s was thereafter referred to as A BOARD OF DIRECTOR’S MEETING.

 

JON AND WENDY: The Year Of The Rabbit

 

   Business was booming with the Board of Directors. The girls had loads of work and I was either left at home by myself or chucked out when a client came to the flat. Irene’s pissing dog, her neurotic cat and the continual knocking on the door was starting to bug me no end! The clients were now mostly Chinese. The girls liked them ‘cause they had little dicks and big wallets. I was beginning to feel like a doorman. Life in the fast lane was getting too fast for me. I wanted to pull over to the kerb and re-assess my life. Irene kept telling me about guys who wanted to muscle in on her business; in other words, professional pimps who wanted protection money. The straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back happened one night when Irene and I were safely tucked in bed.

There was a knock at the door. Irene went out into the lounge room and shouted, “Who’s that?” “You know who it is, you little slut!” came the reply. Irene ran back into the bedroom. “What will I do?” she wailed. “I don’t know, honey. This is your business. I don’t want to know about this guy.” I was not about to don my Elliot Ness hat and mess with the gangsters. Still a lover, not a fighter!

   Just at that moment, the guy started firing his gun off outside the door. We didn’t know what to do. Fortunately, the pimp went away after emptying his gun into the bottom of the door. After a sleepless night, Irene went out to a client in the morning. I rang Nosmo.

   “Have you got room for me at your place?” I said after telling him the story. “Sure,” said Noz. “We’ve got another room here, no worries.”

   Noz lived in a semi-detached house in Pacific Parade, Manly, along with Kevin Wilson (with his suitcase full of guns) and the Many Mayor’s son, Terry Nicholas. They both worked as waiters at The Can. It was quite a happy little household. Noz had his Scalectrix slot-car track set up on the lounge room floor, running under tables and chairs. One had to be very careful not to step on things. This was Boy’s Town, a real bachelor pad. The atmosphere was laid back, not high drama like it was with the girls. We still had girls around, brought back from The Can, but they were usually gone by morning. There was no room here for permanent shielas.

   Kevin had been forgiven for stealing Val. She’d dropped him after two weeks, anyway. He was more in his element cleaning, stripping and reassembling a 9mm Luger on the kitchen table. Kevin was killed a few years later when he made an unsuccessful attempt to rob a gun shop. Sadly, the owner blew Kevin’s head off with a sawn-off shotgun.

   Terry was, at the time, going through the pangs of divorce from his wife, Wendy. One night he took about half a bottle of sleeping pills. Not enough to kill himself, mind you, but sufficient to make him drowsy enough to scare the shit out of us! He had conveniently left the half-empty bottle on the kitchen table for all of us to see. Kevin, putting on his paramedic’s hat, and another mate of ours ‘Trad’ took him to Manly Hospital. I stayed at home. I’d had enough drama to last me a lifetime!

   Next day, I was sitting alone in the kitchen when Wendy Nicholas and two-year old Paul came in the back door. “Where’s Terry?” she asked. Then I had the unenviable task of telling her about Terry’s attempted suicide. With a frightened and worried look on her face she flew out the door, dragging the protesting Paul behind her. That was the first time I met Wendy, I could understand now why Terry was so upset. Even from that brief encounter with Wendy I could tell that she was a really nice, well-brought-up, decent girl – and Terry had lost her. I think it was his drinking that caused the separation. It was an occupational hazard with most of the waiters at The Can.

   After that initial drama, life rolled on smoothly at Pacific Parade. At The Can we were still playing the hits of the time – all Mersey-side stuff plus Rolling Stones, Animals, and our own records as well. The after-work hangout was often Surf City where Thorpie and Ray Brown were playing.

   Ray Columbus & the Invaders came over from New Zealand to play there for a while and we spent a lot of time at their guitarist, Wally Scott’s place, reminiscing with the boys about our N.Z. “Battle of the Bands” victories. One night Paul Wayne and I went for a rage to Surf City. While we were there, a girl asked Paul if we wanted to come back to her flat at the Cross. She had a roommate, who I supposed, was for me. When we got there and I saw the roommate, I nearly keeled over on the spot! It was none other than the carnal knowledge bust girl (The Long Arm)! This was the first time I’d seen her since the court case and I’d vowed to do something dreadful to her if ever I saw her again. So I screwed her! So much for revenge. “More revenge, more revenge!” she cried.

   Girls came and went and it was a while before I saw Wendy again. I had somehow developed a slight obsession about her. She came down to The Can one night with a girlfriend. Noz sat on her knee and farted. Lovely introduction to the Rajahs I must say! She was pretty horrified. I was actually going after the girlfriend, as I knew Wendy was still officially married to Terry. Anyway, I ended up at the girlfriend’s flat, which was in the same block as Wendy’s. Things weren’t going too well with the girlfriend and Wendy came down from her flat to make us some supper. It was then I noticed that she could cook as well. None of the other girls I had ever known before could cook to save themselves, especially The Board of Directors. So endeth the second meeting.

   The third was a housewarming for her little basement flat in Cliff Street, Manly. That night, she actually sat on my knee in the kitchen. I could feel something rising to the occasion but she didn’t seem to mind. She seemed to be enjoying it. I was paranoid that Terry would find out that I was making overtures to his wife. After all, Terry and I were friends.

   The next meeting was at The Can again. She was sitting with Lonnie Lee’s sister, Liz, and a couple of Max Merrit’s Meteors, who were now in Australia, and had come to see us at The Can. They were playing a late night gig at the Kings Cross Rex Hotel. We were going up there to see them play and I asked Wendy if she wanted to go. “I will, if you ask Terry,” she said. I asked Terry and he said, “I don’t care what you do with her!” So Wendy and I, Johnny Dick and Peter Williams piled into the Chrysler and headed for the Cross.

   “Jeez, this thing’s got some guts,” observed the Dick as I burned some fool off the lights in William Street. “Yeah, I guess you don’t get too many V8s in Kiwi-land. She’ll do zero to 60 miles per hour in ten seconds!” I said proudly. Meanwhile, I noticed that Wendy had a vice-like grip on the seat and was stamping on an imaginary brake. I slowed down.

   We all had a pleasant night with Max and the boys, who followed Ron Fabri, his accordion and ‘Orchestra de Wog’. I took Wendy home and we were just getting into some light petting in the front seat when she saw someone watching us. She said “goodnight”, leapt out the door and flew inside. This was going to be a tough nut to crack. But I had the feeling it was going to be worth it.

   Mum was beginning to hassle me about coming home to Strathfield. So I did. She had been very lonely while I was in W.A. and at Irene’s. She had gone maybe a little “zip-a-de-doodah” while I was away. The house was in a mess and the yard was a jungle. I guess if I had been a good son, I would have fixed it all up for her but most young sons are more interested in having a good time and I was no exception.

   While I was at home, my pride and joy, the Chrysler, was re-possessed. At first I thought it had been stolen and rang the police. But then the finance company rang to tell me how much I still owed them. Bloody hide! I now had no transport to get to The Can and had to move back to the Manly area. With much weeping and wailing from Mum, I left and moved into Albert Gardens, Manly. It was a nice two-bedroom unit, so Nosmo moved in with me.

   After a couple of weeks of being jolted around in Nosmo’s MG-TC, I bought a 1948 Rover 75, a very interesting car. It had a free-wheeling  (no clutch) gismo, reserve fuel tank, interior jacking system, full tool kit, black duco and chrome free-standing headlights and a photo of the Queen on the dashboard! All for £60, it was a good car.

   I hadn’t seen Wendy for a couple of months but I’d been thinking of her. One day she arrived at Albert gardens. “Here, see if this fits,” she said, holding up an enormous jumper. “It’s perfect,” I lied, trying to stop it from falling down to my knees. No girl had ever knitted me a jumper before. This was a real lady!

   She invited me back for dinner at her flat, a couple of dingy little rooms in the back of a house art Cliff Street. I was introduced to Paul, her two-year old son as ‘Fred’ so there would be no stories going back to Terry about ‘Jon’. Paul gave me an anxious look and clung tightly to Wendy’s skirt. He was sucking his thumb and rubbing a dirty pillow under his nose.

   “That’s ‘Sucksh’,” said Wendy, pointing to the grubby pillow. “I’m not allowed to wash it. He takes it everywhere.” She cooked dinner for me and we watched TV for a while until Paul went to bed. “Ni-night, Fred,” he waved, still sucking his thumb and clutching the grubby ‘Sucksh’. I stayed the night.

   Wendy worked at the doctor’s surgery next to where the old Brookvale Theatre had been. She was their receptionist. After a few of these wonderful nights, Paul had lost his fear of me so I was allowed to baby-sit while Wendy went to work.

   One morning, Paul and I were watching The Magic Circle Club on TV, when Paul pointed at me and said, “Fred Bear – that’s it! You’re Fred Bear!” From teenage idol to a common bear, what a come down! When Wendy came home from work I told her about Fred Bear and said, “If I’m going to be a bear, then, because of your rabbity little nose, you’re going to be a rabbit!” From that day on she was my “Rabbit”.

 

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To Chapter 17 Break Downs and Break Ups