REACHING OUT TO THE CITY LIGHTS….Chapter Two

 

Queen Street Brisbane in the 60s

Randall & me shortly after we became engaged...taken at Geebung, Brisbane; and the one below taken in Gympie (Beehives were prevalent!!)

                                   

About two years before I left Gympie to live and work in Brisbane, I began "seeing" a young man who arrived in town amongst much fanfare. He was a new radio announcer at Radio 4GY. The hearts of many of the local girls fluttered and missed a few beats when he appeared in town. He was handsome, cocky and single! A few times I noticed him walk by the office in which I worked, and I understood why he caused disruption amongst the hearts of Gympie’s young ladies. Dressed in his slim black trousers, white shirt and narrow black tie, he cut a fine figure, but other than my appraisal of his appearance, I took little further notice of him. 

The new boy in town began turning up at the drama club rehearsals and readings of which I was a member and regular participant. At one such gathering, he even arrived with a copy of the same book I was currently reading. I thought it was a remarkable coincidence as the book was a book on Chinese philosophy, not a one that was on the list of bestsellers. Around the same time, the brash young fellow somehow got himself onto the invited list of guests at one of my girlfriend’s birthday party. Everywhere I went, he appeared with a nonchalant air about him. I learned later this was one of his ploys. 

Spotting me walking along the town’s main street, he had made enquiries about me with one of his co-workers (who, coincidentally, remains a friend of mine to this day). It was suggested he not bother asking me out as “she doesn’t date Gympie boys”. Of course that was like waving a red flag in front of a bull! The statement uttered was true, I didn’t go out with Gympie boys, but then I never went out with any boys anywhere. It was for no other reasons than with everything else I had on my plate, I had little or no time for dating. I hated dating, anyway and never dated just for the sake of it…just for the sake of having “someone on my arm”. I was never particularly interested in “dating”. I’d not met that “special” someone whom I wanted as a “boyfriend”. I guess it’s difficult to explain. I knew a lot of wonderful young men, as friends, but I never singled out any one particular fellow as a “boyfriend”. The lads were all members of the people I knew, people who were friends, both male and female. I had a few secret crushes through the years, of course. 

One of the young men I knew, who worked in Brisbane, and who was a lifesaver in the Noosa Surf Club was an ex-Gympie boy. During the ball seasons, he came home to Gympie on the weekends, and he always escorted me to the balls. It just happened that way. We had a minor “crush” on each other, which flared up, and died down without ever being fanned into flames. That was as far as it went. Older than me by five or so years, he lived and worked in Brisbane, even though he was raised in Gympie. His childhood home was situated in a street behind the street where I spent my younger years. My older brother was also a Noosa Heads lifesaver, and they were good mates. 

Meanwhile, the “new kid on the block”, the handsome, young radio announcer, with the best voice I've ever heard, even to this day, was persistently hovering in the background, intent in his pursuit of me. I tripped. He caught me! 

At first I refused to go out with the lad called “Randall”, other than meet him for coffee or fruit juice at a local diner, telling him I was only interested in the two of us being friends. Of course, I was telling white lies to him, and to myself. The “radio announcer” and I would remain “just friends”. Of kindred mind, he agreed, but his secret intentions were similar to my own, no matter how hard we both tried to deny them. Ahhh…the folly and beliefs of a tender young heart! I tripped and fell heavily. It didn’t take long for my heart to take control. 

Randall and I became engaged on his 21st birthday in January, 1965. I was to turn 21 years in November, a few months later. He and I had no plans for an early marriage. From the beginning we agreed it was to be a long engagement. Our engagement turned a little longer than I had originally believed it would be. 

Shortly after our engagement, Randall left Gympie to become a disc jockey at the then “Colour Radio” station, 4IP, Ipswich, where he became one of the original “Colour Radio” guys. The radio station was then the most “hip” radio station in the Brisbane area, even though it was situated in and broadcasted from Ipswich. “Colour Radio 4IP” kept beating all the inner-city radio stations by a country mile by winning all the frequent ratings. It was Number One on top of the ladder of popularity. It was the powerhouse of Top Forty music in the south-east Queensland corner. 

After about five months or so of sporadic visits by Randall back to Gympie on his day off, which was a rare event, the distance between us grew longer with each passing day. Our living in separate areas was the catalyst that finally brought about my relocating to Brisbane. Brisbane was much closer to Ipswich than Gympie was. This was the perfect reason I needed! Upon arriving in Brisbane, the first few days I stayed with Randall’s parents at Geebung, a northern suburb of Brisbane. I then moved across the city to Toowong in the western suburbs to share a flat with a lass who became my “flat-mate”. And a new adventure and chapter in my life commenced. 

Toowong is classed as an “inner-city” suburb, with easy, fast access to the CBD. Everything was falling into place and working out well for me. I had a new job, which I was about to start in a few days; a new “home”’ a new “friend”, my flatmate, and I was closer to Ipswich and Ipswich was closer to me, which meant, of course, Randall and I would now see each other more frequently. Life was looking up! 

It’s funny how some things remain in one’s mind. I’ve always clearly remembered saying to my flatmate the first time we met when we were both moving ourselves and our belongings into the flat, words to this effect, “I want to say this up front…I expect each of us to respect each other’s privacy and space. I won’t be in your “pocket” and don’t expect you to be in mine.” I never needed to say those words and have always felt if I could have taken them back, I would have. I couldn’t have found a better person to share an abode with as it turned out. Even though she and I were as different as “chalk and cheese” in so, so many ways…in another way we were very much alike. Both of us respected each other’s space and privacy. The rare times we were together and shared a meal, we enjoyed each other’s company immensely, talking our heads off, catching up with what the other had been doing since last we’d sat down to talk. I always cooked (how strange!) and Dawn, my flatmate, did the washing up. We had a central fund that covered our rent, utilities and grocery expenses. We shared the household chores, but nothing was ever “set in concrete”. 

Raw from the country town and fresh to the "big city", I started working for one of the partners in the then law firm of Morris, Fletcher and Cross, the law firm my Gympie boss had rung the morning I handed him my notice. The offices were situated in the Penneys’ Building in Queen Street, Brisbane; Queen Street being the main street in the city of Brisbane. At the time, Morris, Fletcher and Cross, reputedly, were the largest law firm in Australia, if not the southern hemisphere, or so I was led to believe. There were twenty-three or twenty-four partners. The partner to whom I was secretary specialised in insurance claims and divorce matters. Walking into the building and offices on my first day was like landing on a distant foreign land or planet. Everything was so far removed from what I’d been used to in my workplace in Gympie. In the Gympie office, I was part of a “family”…a “country practice”, where I was cared for, nurtured and treated like someone who mattered. At Morris, Fletcher and Cross I felt I was just a number…one amongst thousands! I’d walked into a huge, multi-storey building housing many offices, as well as rows upon rows of typists sitting in front of typewriters in a “typing pool”. I shared an office adjoining my boss’s office with one other girl. Thankfully, I wasn’t part of the “faceless, nameless typing pool”. I had no idea how many girls were employed by the firm. I couldn’t get over the number of people surrounding me. I’d only seen such a sight in the movies. I was expected to “clock-in” each morning and “clock-off” each afternoon, as well as for lunch breaks. A “tea lady” pushing her laden trolley weaved her way around the corridors, office and typing pool mid-mornings and mid-afternoons. It was all so foreign, strange, unfriendly and cold to me. I wasn’t very happy. 

Day after day, hour after hour I was taking dictation, typing and putting together brief after brief on horrendous insurance claims, and equally horrendous divorce statements. This was just before the Divorce Law Reforms came into effect, when a person’s intimate details were still divulged in minute, precise detail. Having to read through and type such personal disclosures didn’t thrill me at all. I thought if I spent a few years doing that type of work, I would end up being a very cynical person and I had no intention of becoming one. 

Five weeks following my introduction into my new job I attended a party on a Saturday night. Gary, one of the “Colour-Radio” guys hosted the evening at his apartment in Annerley, another Brisbane suburb. Quite a few “muso’s” were in attendance, so the guests sat around listening to them play their various instruments, sipping on a wine, scotch or whatever. I was deep in conversation with Beth, who was Gary’s girlfriend at the time. We’d not met before that evening, nor, for that matter, had I met most of the others at the party. The group mostly consisted of radio and advertising people. I was very new to Brisbane, and the folk at the party comprised of Randall’s work buddies and associates. Being a newcomer to the city, I knew very few people in Brisbane. 

Discussing my feelings towards my new job, Beth said, “Hey! My job was advertised in today’s “Courier Mail”. I’m leaving because I’m becoming an air hostess. Why don’t you apply for the job!” 

Beth gave me the relevant details, telling me her boss was a good man to work for. Only he and her worked in the small office in Queen Street. The office was situated in Heindorff House, which, as it turned out, was diagonally opposite the Penney’s building that housed Morris, Fletcher and Cross. 

My spirits lifted. Perhaps there was a light at the end of the tunnel, after all!