REACHING OUT TO THE CITY LIGHTS....CHAPTER SIX

Queen Street, Brisbane in the 1960s

June Dally-Watkins with Bob Hope

Christmas was fast approaching. I wasn’t feeling in a celebratory mood, but decided that I would bury my heartache and face the world head on with a smile on my face. Life was still going on around me, regardless of my personal heartbreak. Taking a few deep breaths, I told myself I wanted to be part of life, not stay hidden away in some dark corner pining for something that couldn’t be altered.  It was what it was.  Randall and I hadn’t broken up. He had just gone away for a while. For how long at that point in time, neither of us knew. I wasn’t naïve enough to think that he wouldn’t be out having fun. So I took a deep breath; pulled my socks up (not literally..I was wearing pantyhose by that stage); straightened my shoulders, and told myself it was my intention to do similar.

I put most of my energy into my work, becoming very involved in every aspect of it. My boss introduced me to a young hosiery buyer from one of the city’s Myer department stores. Fay had relocated to Brisbane from Far North Queensland not long before my own defection from Gympie.  My boss believed she and I, being in a similar boat, would get on well.

Feeling a little uncomfortable by being the subjects of “friendship-making”, we were a bit wary of each other when we were first “pushed together”, not particularly enjoying a friendship being forced upon us. To appease my “Lord and Master”, Fay and I agreed to meet. She came to my flat one Saturday afternoon. It turned out my employer had better insight than we had, because Fay and I hit it off once we recovered from our initial discomfort during the first few minutes of our meeting. She was keen on having fun and causing a bit of mayhem. I was not at all opposed to that way of thinking, either. We were both as “crazy” as each other.

Together we posed a dangerous threat to society! Fay was a very attractive lass; one who was full of life, good humour and wit. Over the next few months we had some great times together, hitting the “high spots” of Brisbane. terrorizing the locals.

The following year, Fay decided to “test the waters” up in Papua New Guinea, gaining a job with the Australian Government at Boroka, outside of Port Moresby. We communicated for a while after she settled into Boroka, sending inane, insane letters back and forth, but after a time we lost contact, unfortunately. I’ve often wondered what happened to her, and which directions in life she chose to follow.

Laurie, a friend of Randall from their high school days, whom I’d met and befriended, decided he, too, would try being a radio announcer. Following in Randall’s footsteps, Laurie decided to join the Color Radio network, but because he was inexperienced, he was being sent to Mount Isa, a mining town way out the back of “Whoop-Whoop”, in far north-western Queensland. He was leaving shortly after Christmas to follow his chosen career path. After Randall’s departure it was good to have a friendly face on the scene. I was glad to have Laurie as a friend. Regularly he’s telephone, and often we met for coffee, or drinks after work. Laurie had an empathetic ear. I hated the fact that he, too, would soon be leaving Brisbane.  

However, slowly I was meeting new people. My network of friends was steadily increasing.

That year my Christmas plans were made for me. I spent Christmas Day and Boxing Day with Randall’s parents who lived in Geebung, a northern suburb of Brisbane.

New Year had been booked out since a few months earlier. A good friend, Marj, planned her wedding to be held on New Year’s Day. I felt like throttling her for doing so. It meant I had to spend part of my New Year’s Eve on a train trip back to Gympie, a thought that didn’t thrill me in the least. I’d not spent a New Year’s Eve in Gympie since before I commenced working in my first job, in the Gympie law firm. New Year’s Eve meant “coast” and “parties” to me, not sitting on a train, and then being stuck in my old hometown. I was not amused!

The eve of the New Year arrived. I’d booked a seat on the Gympie train for around 6.30pm. As I was leaving my office, I ran into a guy I knew.  He invited me to join him for a quick drink in celebration of the soon to be New Year. I had a bit of time up my sleeve so I agreed. On the way we crossed paths with Laurie, who decided to join us. Like the Three Musketeers we settled comfortably into a cocktail bar at a hotel in Queen Street, the CBD’s main street. Too comfortably it appeared because time had flown by without noticing it had done so.  Laughing, the three of us scurried up to Central Station, only to see the end carriage of my train disappearing out of sight!

Full of high spirits, like robbers after a heist, we ran to Laurie’s car, a VW beetle. We finally caught up with the train at “Sunshine” station on the northern side of Brisbane. I jumped aboard the train, sad to be leaving my mad friends behind.

It was a depressing trip to Gympie. In rhythm with the wheels on the rail lines, I cursed Marj under my breath the duration of the journey, a journey that seemed to take forever. What timing she had! Such a silly day to get married! Finally, the train pulled into Gympie station around 11 pm. I caught a cab home. Both Mum and Nana greeted me with open arms. Understanding my displeasure, although I did my best to conceal it in their presence, Mum offered me a rum and Coca Cola, saying, “I’m sure you feel like one of these!” Readily agreeing, I took a long sip.

Sitting on our verandah chatting quietly with my mother and grandmother, a car pulled up outside. It was Marj and her soon-to-be husband, Quentin. She and Quentin had failed in their plan to meet me at the train station so decided to catch me at home. For a brief few minutes, we all sat around talking and sipping on rum and cokes before Quentin was duly and dutifully chased away at midnight. Marj and I spent her last night of “singledom” discussing our past, and what our futures had in store for us, before finally ending our reminiscing and wondering in the early hours of New Year’s Day.   

Farewell 1965…welcome 1966.

An older brother of Marj’s was my escort to her wedding. Everything was going along smoothly at the wedding until it came time for the speeches during the reception. Without warning I began to cry. Not just cry, I became uncontrollable, inconsolable! I was losing everyone; all my dear and much-loved friends.  Randall was briefly visiting New Zealand’s north island where he’d spent a few weeks before continuing his journey to the United States, with New York his destination…following his dream.

 Marj was married and heading off to her own adventures.  During their honeymoon, she and Quentin were moving to Alice Springs in the Northern Territory, where Quentin would be working within an engineering company…,thousands of miles away.

Everyone I cared about was not just moving from one suburb to another. They were going to, or had gone off to far distant places…to the ends of the earth it seemed. It was all too much to digest, or deal with at that moment in time. Marj’s wedding was the catalyst that caused the floodgates of my broken heart to open. I left the reception room, not wanting to make a total fool of myself, or embarrass my very confused escort. After a while, concerned, he came out to find me, a flood of tears still streamed down my face, and my body racked with sobs. Feeling totally helpless, he offered to take me home. Without hesitation, I accepted his offer. My mother greeted us at our front stairs, surprised that I was home so early. My poor escort, who knew not what to say, or what to do with the crazy young woman he’d met for the first time that day, handed me over to my mother, making a hasty exit after doing so. I bet I was the last “blind date” he ever had!

Mum tucked me into bed, listening, understanding my outpourings of grief. I cried until I could cry no more, finally descending into an exhausted sleep. I had emptied the dam, at least for a while. I woke next morning feeling wrung-out. I caught the early afternoon train back to Brisbane. Mum and Nana were concerned about me, naturally, but I told them I would be fine. I knew I would be. It was entirely up to me to be so.

Once back in Brisbane, it was a New Year.  Determinedly, I was going to treat and face it accordingly. I had many unknown rivers yet to cross; hurdles to overcome; new people to be met. and fun to be had.

Early in the New Year, Kolotex introduced a new pantyhose product called “Top Secret”. The launch was to become part of my first foray into the promotion of a new line to the retail trade en măsse.

I contacted the June Dally-Watkins Model Agency.  Models were sent to us for our assessment. Lennons Hotel was the chosen venue to herald in “Top Secret”. A fashion parade was already in the planning stages, based on a James Bond theme.  We were moving at a rate of knots. I was in my element.  Three top Brisbane models of the day were chosen. They were Louisa Van Duerzen (who had been crowned “Miss Surf Girl” a couple of years earlier), Kay Roberts and one of the stylish Tamblyn twins.

Leading up to the evening, the office was a-buzz with energy and excitement. Invitations were sent out to the “trade”. Various outfits were chosen for the models, which included trench coats, scarves, mysterious hats and dark glasses to set the theme our new range of pantyhose. The catering staff at Lennons Hotel had been instructed on the fare for the evening. We were ready to take on the retail fashion trade of Brisbane…but were they ready for us? Our clients thought they were prepared, but we had a lot more in store for them in the ensuing years.

This was to be the beginning of some exciting wonderful times, but before they came into fruition, I was soon to go in a completely different, unexpected direction.

To be continued....

REACHING OUT TO THE CITY LIGHTS...CHAPTER FIVE

                                            Peter, Paul and Mary...."Leaving on a Jet Plane"

 

(I apologise for being slack  in reading, and commenting on your blogs.  Life has been a little topsy-turvy of ate for me, and being the turtle that I am, I'd retreated further into my shell, far away from the madding crowd.  I'm feeling much better that I was...and my spirits have lifted somewhat, and the anxiety that is often sky higher and higher has lowered somewhat. My intention is to catch up on everyone's blogs.   Take good care, one and all.)

                                      

November was around the corner and so was my twenty-first birthday. No huge “coming-of-age” celebration was planned for the “event”. I still didn’t know a lot of people in Brisbane, having been in the city for only a little over three months. Most of the people I’d met up to that point had been through Randall, my fiancée, his work associates, and subsequent others involved in the advertising, radio and music fields.

I’d become fairly heavily involved in Randall’s radio career in Gympie. Nightly, unfailingly, I taped his evening programmes to be played back and critiqued after his shift finished. Every evening following his four hour on-air shift, he came back to my home, where I always had a snack and coffee waiting for him. Together we would sit for hours, playing and re-playing his broadcast, picking holes in it, commending parts that deserved commendation, generally treating the sessions like a “broadcasting tutorial”.  Randall’s deep, distinctive, resonant voice was a special gift, confounding many when they first met the slim young man with a voice from the Heavens. Although it wasn’t allowed by the radio station in Gympie, or elsewhere for that matter, I would sneak into the studios during his Saturday night shifts and sit across from him at the turntables, having had carte blanche choice at the record library. Most of the music played those nights was of my choosing. It was fun…a bold action, not allowed...a rule broken! The hierarchy of the 4GY was unaware of our escapades, thankfully. We were pushing the boundaries, but the thrill of the game made it worth breaking the rules.

Randall had a brash, confident air about him that fooled many, but not me. He was handsome, independent, and highly intelligent. He drove a sports car, and was gifted with vocal chords that females swooned over and males envied. However, all of those curtained a certain lack of inner credence in his own abilities. He had turned twenty-one in the January before my November date with the milestone. As I’ve written earlier we became engaged on his birthday, with an agreed long engagement in the wind. Neither of us was in a hurry to be married. We were young. A persistent desire to travel nagged at Randall. He frequently talked of his wish to travel overseas…"to spread his wings...to see the world"   It was his desire, his dream, not mine, and I had no intentions of standing in the way of his dream.

A couple of weeks before my birthday, he came to the flat to see me.  My flatmate was out somewhere, so we had the place to ourselves. Sitting on the sofa, Randall told me he had handed in his notice to the management at Color Radio 4IP. The next bombshell to crash down upon me followed soon thereafter. He was going overseas at the end of November, firstly to New Zealand briefly before travelling across to the United States, with New York as his destination.

My heart felt like it had been gripped by an ever-tightening iron vice. My stomach flipped. All that remained, it seemed, was a giant, endless, empty pit. I went cold all over as I sat, somberly listening to him excitedly detail his plans. He’d never kept it a secret from me his dream to travel, to go on his “odyssey” in search of the unknown.

Although I didn’t harbour a similar desire to his, I understood his want to see the world. My understanding didn’t make it any easier for me, however, as I sat there stoically bracing and steeling myself. I believed then as I still do now, one cannot live for the sake of another, nor can one choose the path another decides is best for him or her. To travel overseas was Randall’s decision and desire, not mine. It was not for me to try to change his mind, or alter his decision, no matter how much I was hurting inside. There was nothing I could do to stop him, whether I wanted to do so, or not.

Of course, I didn’t want him to go, but it was his individual right to walk the path he wanted to walk. From the moment we’d met he had shared his dreams of travel with me. I didn’t share those dreams to travel...they were his, not mine...but I understood his wanderlust. Tears I shed, I shed alone in the darkness.

My birthday grew closer, and so did the date for Randall’s departure. His flight to New Zealand was booked for November 30^th. My birthday was November 11^th. I intended to make the most of the little time we had left together and not allow myself to be bogged down in self-pity and sorrow. Time enough for all of that later when I was alone. I was going to make sure I had a damn good time and to hell with heartache and feeling sorry for myself.

We were still engaged, nothing had altered on that situation. True to our word at the time of our engagement, marriage for the both of us was a long way off. I soon wearied of fielding questions from others who didn’t understand Randall’s change in direction. I told every curious by-stander he was fulfilling a dream. It was not for me to stand in his way. And I meant it. It was nobody else’s business, anyway. Privately, my heart was torn into many pieces, but I wasn’t going to allow others witness my pain. It was mine and mine alone to deal with. It was my life, and it had nothing to do with anyone else.

Fate looked kindly upon me in a couple of instances, though. My birthday fell on a Friday, so I planned a party, inviting everyone I’d met since my arrival in Brisbane. It wasn’t a great number of people. My landlady who lived on the ground level below the two flats above, one of which Dawn and I shared, was absent for a few days, including the weekend of my pending celebration. That was a blessing in itself as I knew our landlady wouldn’t appreciate the pounding of feet to the beat of music upon her ceiling!

Dutifully, I did forewarn her of my planned party, subtly asking her permission, which she gave willingly. In the other upstairs’ flat adjoining ours, dwelt a very tall Canadian young woman of around twenty-five or six years of age.  She had moved in, with her little lady Chihuahua shortly after Dawn and I had set up our abode. We’d passed pleasantries while collecting our respective mail, or while hanging out our laundry. I’ve never been one to “pop-in” on people, and have never encouraged others to just “pop-in” on me. That’s one of my many quirks, I guess. Even so, the girl next door and I formed an “acquaintance”. I invited her to my party. It wouldn’t have seemed fair or polite not to have done so.

What became a habit formed back then in those early days, I handled the catering for my small gathering.  Leaving the office an hour or so earlier on the day in question, I raced home, eager to start my preparation for the night ahead. I’d bought a new “outfit” for the party at David Jones, a major department store in the CBD. I felt on top of the world. My new outfit was called a “skidoo”…and no, it wasn’t a snowmobile! It was actually Jamaican shorts, with a slit tunic of similar length to the shorts worn over the top. My “skidoo” was in a beautiful aqua-coloured woven-cotton plain fabric with the reverse side of the tunic, matching soft, multi-coloured floral voile, or similar material. I’m not a wearer or lover of floral so I never did reverse the tunic, but when I walked or danced, the contrast was very effective, or so I believed!

Of course, again, a habit formed all those years ago, I over-catered. At least I had food enough to cover Dawn and me for the rest of the weekend, if not the following week as well!

I enjoyed my twenty-first birthday party, spent with Randall and my new acquaintances, which included many of his co-workers, fellow radio announcers from Color Radio 4IP...known as "Color Radio Good Guys", who were joined by their spouses in some cases, and girlfriends in others.  Wee Scotsman, Donny Lloyd brought along his advertising girlfriend, Carol. Carol and Donny married sometime later, and then later divorced. Carol Lloyd, with her wild, flaming red hair became known amongst many circles as “Australia’s First Lady of Rock”. She was lead singer/songwriter in the rock band, “Railroad Gin”, which rose to fame in the Seventies, and established quite a cult following. Carol continued on with her genius in the advertising world and has been the recipient of many awards in that field.  David Jull, who had worked with Randall when they were both younger within the confines of the ABC, and who himself was at the time of my “coming of age”party, employed by ABC TV as a news presenter, also was in attendance. Also amongst my party-goers was a jazz pianist whom I'd met briefly previously.  I couldn’t help but notice he and our Canadian neighbour had struck up a friendly conversation in one corner.  The place was rife with radio and television folk.

My birthday had been a happy one. The party was a roaring success. I managed to push aside, for a little while at least, what lay ahead of me. I tried not to let Randall’s rapidly approaching departure put a damper upon my special evening. I succeeded, if only for a short time.

Putting on brave front, inside I was being torn apart, bit by bit. I didn't want anyone else to know of my torment or heartache. My steely facade and determination not to show to others what I was really feeling helped get me through the following couple of weeks between my party and his departure. Deep within, I knew our separation by sea and air wasn't going to be brief. However, I kept my thoughts to myself.

"Good-byes" have never been one of my fortes! I can manage to keep a "stiff upper lip" for only a short while when in the presence of a loved one's departure, then I'm ready to privately crumble in a melting mess. It is best I make such farewells, brief, disappearing out of view of the "departer" before both parties become drenched in my tears. I prefer to perform this flooding feat privately.

Fortunately, I accompanied Randall’s parents to Brisbane airport to farewell their son, my fiancee, my love, on his flight into his future…his adventure into the unknown. My being in their company forced me to control my emotions, if only until I was once more on my own in my flat.  Randall’s parents and I were the best of friends.  I loved them dearly.

 

Once alone, I crawled into my bed, pulled up the covers, and shut the rest of the world out. At that time in my life, I didn't even have a cat to comfort me! “Cat” was had remained in Gympie, being cared for by my mother and grandmother.  I wanted nothing to do with the world, or with those who inhabited it. What was the point? No one could possibly understand what I was feeling. I was in no mood to try to explain. My feelings, my emotions were my own. I had to deal with them in my own way, in my own time and space.

To be continued....

REACHING OUT TO THE CITY LIGHTS....CHAPTER FOUR

Some of the Color Radio 4IP Crew....Randall on right at the console

                                    

                                          

The saddest thing about leaving Gympie had been leaving my cat, “Cat” behind. He was a large ginger fellow. I could never think of a name to suit him, so I’d christened him “Cat”.    I christened him “Cat” a long time before I first viewed the movie, “Breakfast at Tiffany's”, wherein “Holly Golightly’s beloved ginger cat was also named, “Cat”.

I loved my pet very much. Every afternoon when I arrived home from work, he would be out on the footpath to greet and meet me. “Cat” managed to tear my heart apart the day I left Gympie. He walked right out to the roadside with me when my “lift” arrived to whisk me away to my new world. Forlornly sitting on the curb, “Cat” knew he was about to lose his mistress. Mum and Nana wouldn’t let me take him to Brisbane with me, which probably was the wisest thing to do, but that didn’t ease the pain of my parting with him. Throughout my life up until then, I had always had a cat. Now, I had to leave my mate behind. It was a bittersweet parting. I was happy being on the brink of a new life, but so very sad to be leaving my dear friend of many years.

Once settled into Brisbane, and my new abode, all that had been familiar to me was now in my past. I had a new home, a new “housemate” and a new job with new friends yet to be met. I had my independence.

My fiancée, Randall, was busy with his job as disc jockey with Colour Radio 4IP, in Ipswich, so I saw little of him during the week.  Often weekend promotional radio work also interfered with our time together but, at least, we saw more of each other than if I had remained in Gympie.

My exit from Morris, Fletcher and Cross came with little or no fanfare. I would not be missed after such a short tenure with them; and I wouldn’t miss the working environment therein. Although, I did run into my ex-boss, Tony Atkinson a few years later and, strangely enough, he remembered me.

My entrance into Kolotex Hosiery’s Queensland office caused little or no fanfare, too. With only John Trimmer and me in the office, there was no need for streamers, bells and whistles. They came later!

An interesting fact or two…Kolotex manufactured the first pantihose in Australia. In fact, Australia produced them before the US did, as well. We were on top of the ladder (pun intended) in the hosiery stakes. I loved my new job from Day One. John Trimmer, a gentleman in all senses of the word, was out of the office a great deal of the time visiting the company’s retail customers. I enjoyed working alone. Not having others around me was of no concern. Within a few months the status quo was to change.

A couple of weeks after I commenced my new job, a tall, very attractive young woman, a few years older than me, walked into the reception area. She introduced herself as my boss’s wife.  At the time of our first meeting, she was towards the end of her first pregnancy.

Politely, I said, “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Trimmer.”

She laughed, ordering me to call her “Shirley”, which I did from that day forth. As the years unfolded, She and I forged a strong friendship.  However, a lot of water has flowed under the bridge in the intervening years.

Not yet 21 years old, I was “treading on unfamiliar territory”. My old enemy, “shyness” had a bad habit of reappearing when in the company of strangers. Shirley was still a stranger to me, plus she was my boss’s wife. I had only met her on that one, brief occasion in the office, and at the time, she had been towards the end of her pregnancy.  Shortly thereafter, she gave birth to a beautiful, bouncing baby boy. His birth was about six weeks after the first brief meeting between the new mother and me. The proud father suggested it would be a nice gesture for me to visit his wife at the hospital during my lunch break to spend a little time with her, and to view their newborn son.

 At that point in time, Shirley was fairly new to Brisbane, too, as she and her husband had relocated from Sydney to Brisbane less than twelve months earlier.  She was without many friends in her new city. Feeling I couldn't decline an edict from my boss, off I went, alone, to St. Andrew's Hospital in Brisbane. New to the city, I had no idea the location of the hospital, but fortunately the taxi driver did!

Upon arriving at the hospital, I wished I was somewhere else, or the chore ahead of me was over. I'm like most people, I guess. I hate hospitals. I lose my identity every time I set foot in one, which, by my choosing, isn't often, fortunately. In trepidation, I walked quietly down the corridor, praying I wouldn’t slip on the highly-polished floor, diligently following instructions of the sign that said "Maternity Ward".  Neither looking right nor left for fear of disturbing patients or appearing rude, I eventually found the allotted room.

Stepping inside, I came upon four or five people gathered around the bed…more strangers! They turned and greeted me warmly. I smiled bravely, returning the greetings of the new mother and her welcoming visitors. I started to open my mouth to utter the expected utterances, when out of the corner of my eye I spied a face I recognised peering around a screen dividing the two beds in the room.

Too overwhelmed by the myriad happy faces greeting me I hadn’t noticed the screen when I first entered the room, I looked at the beaming face poking out from behind the screen to the new mother in front of me with whom I'd started to exchange pleasantries. A person who, by then, probably thought I was a friendly, well-meaning visiting Salvation Army “Sister Josephine” or, whomever. Shirley, who I was supposed to be visiting, was in the other bed, peeping out from behind the screen.

I withered. I wanted to disappear out of sight, and the world, forever!  Embarrassment didn’t begin to describe how I felt. I begged Shirley not to mention to “Mr. Trimmer” my unforgettable, unfortunate, embarrassing entrance. I couldn't stand the thought of them laughing behind my back at my blunder. I felt so silly. The only thing missing from the scenario, I thought, was the piece of straw from my mouth. What a “hayseed” I was, I berated myself! Shirley vainly tried to appease my feelings of desperation. I feigned her kind words had put me at ease.

After Shirley and I exchanged small talk, their newborn son and I had our first introduction. He was beautiful. He looked like a three-month old baby, perfect in every way. Peacefully, he watched in wonder at the world around him, a fine coating of blonde baby hair atop of his perfectly-formed head, chubby cheeks and big blue eyes. I was immediately smitten.

As soon as I arrived back at the office, I went to see my boss. I told him the complete woeful tale of my embarrassing blunder.  He was very understanding and gentle towards my fractured self, while laughing uncontrollably inside, no doubt, I thought. He wasn’t, I discovered later. He empathized, knowing what I was going through. In the years that followed, the story was repeated often, and became a “family joke”. There still remains a laugh or three in it to this day, and I still smile at the memory.

So my life settled into a smooth routine for a while.  Randall and I saw each other a couple of times a week when possible, and on weekends when he wasn’t doing “outside broadcasts”, or other radio promotional work. Sometimes I accompanied him to such events, other times I didn’t. Late one Friday afternoon, I caught a train to Ipswich to meet up with him. As a representative of Color Radio 4IP and one of the “Colo
r Radio Good Guys”, he was to “crown” the “Miss Rosewood” at the Rosewood Ball.  

Rosewood is a tiny country town a few miles out of Ipswich. The invitation to the ball had been extended to me as well, being Randall’s fiancée. I’d managed to coerce a dozen or so pairs of stockings and pantihose as an additional prize for the winner, by explaining to Mr. Trimmer it would be an excellent advertising opportunity for our product. He agreed.

Upon our arrival at the ball and to our surprise, Randall and I were treated like celebrities. The “red carpet” was out and “nothing” was “too much”. The ball organizers hovered around us, ensuring we had anything, and everything we wanted. It was a fun, unique experience feeling so “important”, if only for a few hours! We were quite taken aback by their genuine generosity of spirit.

Dawn, my flatmate, and I got on well together, not that we spent much time in each other's company. Most of the time, we were busy within our own lives. One evening, a few weeks after we'd moved into the flat, I met Jack (as he preferred to be called), her fiancee, when he called by our flat to pick her up for an evening out. As he hovered around the front door, waiting for Dawn to ready herself, I tried valiantly to make conversation with him but it was an almost impossible feat. He had "John Wayne/Clint Eastwood Syndrome"...he spoke in monosyllables! After three or four attempts to invite him into the lounge room while he waited, I finally gave up on him, letting him remain where he seemed most at ease, standing on the unlit balcony.

Always one who becomes suspicious if life runs too smoothly and happily, I thought things were almost too good to be true, but pushed the thought from my mind, not wanting to rock the boat. My life had settled into calm waters with blue skies above; as if on cue that was to change all too soon. Dark clouds were forming on the horizon. The thunder had not yet made its presence known, and I’d not noticed the clouds.

 

REACHING OUT TO THE CITY LIGHTS...CHAPTER 3

                                          

                                                      

Monday morning couldn’t come quickly enough for me. As soon as I arrived at work and found a couple of moments of privacy in my office space, I rang to make an appointment for an interview for the job I'd been told about at Saturday night's party. I'd checked out the advertisement in the weekend paper, and it seemed just right for me, as Beth had explained to me.

 

An appointment was arranged for 1.15pm.  It was difficult to keep my mind on dictation during the morning, but I managed to muddle my way through somehow, probably making up words as I went along. Legal terms become very repetitious after a while. I had already been working in the legal office in Gympie for five years, so I was familiar with most of the jargon, but we hadn’t handled many insurance cases and even fewer divorces in my previous position. I was eager to shrug off the coldness and the harsh realities of the city legal world, having been accustomed to a more relaxed, very often fun-filled working life at Tozer and Jeffery, the company I had not long left behind.  It had been sad for me leaving five years of friendships formed where the boss, his wife and their son treated us “girls’ as part of the family. Graham, my boss’s son was doing his Articles under his father’s guidance. He became a close friend (and still is to this day).

 

Like me, Graham loved the beach and surfing, so he often gave my friends and me a lift to Noosa to “ride the wild surf”, his carefully waxed board strapped to the top of his car. Graham eventually went on to take over his father’s business, which he successfully built into a much larger firm. He retired at reasonably early age. He and his wife then lived at Rainbow Beach, a stone’s throw and a half from the waves of the Pacific Ocean.

 

Working at the Brisbane law firm, Morris, Fletcher and Cross, was a world away from the life I’d become accustomed to in the Gympie office. There was none of the warmth I had experienced during my first five years of my working life. I was now just a number, an unrecognized face amongst many. And to make matters worse, I was expected to join a union! That fact in itself motivated me into finding another job! I had never been a member of a union, and I had no intention of ever becoming one. Throughout my working life, I never did join a union.

Dressed for the occasion, I wore my “Miss Australia” pure wool, yellow Chanel suit on "interview day", wanting to impress the man who, I hoped, would become my new employer. Hair in place, high heels polished, I rushed out of my office on the stroke of one. Striding across Queen Street towards Heindorff House, my heart pounded in my chest, my stomach turned cartwheels. Reaching the top of the stairs to the first floor, I paused for a few minutes to catch my breath, and still my thundering heart. Shoulders back, stomach in, head held high, just as my mother had taught me, I walked into the office a good ten minutes before the appointed time. I exuded an air of confidence that was lacking inside of me, which I hoped wasn’t. I tried not to fidget as I waited in the reception area. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long. Within a couple of minutes, Beth ushered me into a rear office.

I stood frozen to the spot, completely out of my comfort zone. It had been over five years since I’d applied for a job. There had been no interview required by Morris, Fletcher and Cross. A telephone call was made on my behalf. All I had to do was just turn up on the day I had specified. Now, I was face to face with a total stranger, without a clue as to what I was letting myself in for. My mind was both blank and in a turmoil at the same time. Was I doing the right thing? I was on my own with no one to advise me. Would I listen to advice if it was forthcoming? Probably not! Smile…put a smile on your face and try to look somewhat normal!

Reaching across the desk, I shook the hand of the stranger standing behind it, commending myself in the meantime for actually being able to manage that much.

“Please…sit down, Lee,” a well-modulated voice instructed me. The man in front of me smiled kindly. “I’m John Trimmer.” He was in his early forties, suited and well-groomed.

I somehow managed to find a chair, and sat down carefully, back straight, knees together.

“Hello, Mr. Trimmer,” I whispered. Where to had my voice disappeared?

Gently coaxing information from me, he said, “You speak so quietly, Lee. Speak up, I can hardly hear you.”   I think he forever rued the day he said that to me!

The interview came to an end; Mr. Trimmer rose from his chair and walked with me to the front door, promising that he would contact me “soon”. And “soon” did become soon, because mid-afternoon that afternoon I received a telephone call from him advising me I had the job.  

 

“When can you start?" He asked.

My new position was to be secretary to Mr. Trimmer, who was the Queensland Manager for a national hosiery company, Kolotex Hosiery. The office in Heindorff House included a small storeroom in which stocks were held to service the inner-city department stores, such as David Jones, Myer, Barry & Roberts, as well as Waltons, Edwards & Lamb, Bayards, Weedmans, and McWhirters in Fortitude Valley, together with the smaller salons and boutiques. Gresham, Down and Johnson, wholesalers, were agents for Kolotex. They, in turn, serviced all the country and regional towns throughout Queensland. The head office and factory of Kolotex was in Leichhardt, a Sydney suburb. All other hosiery manufacturers were based in Melbourne, Victoria.  In those early days, the Queensland office was only a small cog in a much larger wheel. That was to change within a couple of years.

Receiving the good news, I promptly handed in my notice to Tony Atkinson, the lawyer to whom I was secretary. As I had only been employed with the firm for five weeks, I advised him I would be finishing up on the coming Friday. I was to commence my new job the following Monday. Suddenly, everything was moving rapidly. I was happy, excited and eager to take the next step in my course of my life, a step that would continue growing bigger and longer for the next fourteen years.

News of my change in direction wasn’t accepted well by my family back in Gympie. My brother, again acting like “big brother” threatened to come down to Brisbane, and take me back home, saying, “You leave home and you think you can just chop and change jobs!” He continued on with a diatribe of which I took little notice, telling him to mind his own business; that I knew what I was doing. He didn’t agree, but I remained firm in my resolve.

 

My mother warned me of the dangers of “fly-by-nighters”. “A one-man-operation” was doomed for failure, taking me down with it, she repeated. I did my utmost to calm the waters, insisting I knew what I was doing and all she was prophesying would not come into being; for her to trust me and my judgment. In the meantime, Nana said little other than, “I hope you know what you’re doing, love.”

“I do, Nana…everything is just fine,” I assured her. Nana exuded a certain calmness, empathy and wisdom. She had gone to bat for me when I wanted to leave high school to go out to work and earn my own money, when my mother argued against such a move, because she wanted me to continue my schooling, attend college and become a school teacher. Unless I won a scholarship it was a snowball's chance in Hell of my family, or me, being able to afford my progressing through to college. I wanted to earn money to help within our small household, and of course, for my own independence. Nana was the one who talked my mother around to my way of thinking at that time. And, I was certain she was doing similar regarding my latest decision. I left the appeasing of my mother and my brother to her. There was little more I could do from afar, other than prepare myself for my new job, one I knew I was going to enjoy. The hosiery company wasn’t going to “disappear overnight”, nor was I!

I didn’t know then but I was about to go on the ride of my life filled with wonderful adventures and opportunities; a ride that was to last for the next fourteen years; one that would have a large influence on my life. A new world of big business, fashion parades, top models, television and radio and much more was beckoning.