by Mark Bennett
I later leased the house out to a friend I had grown up with, who we called Feathers. We went to school together at Glenroy Technical School. Feathers moved in with his wife and three children, not long after the hanging. Feathers did me a favour by painting the interior of the house in exchange for cheap rent; it was handy as I could slowly renovate the property while they rented the house. It worked in both Feathers’ favour and mine. I could pop in to do some renovations when it suited them; they didn’t mind me at the house while they were living there. We helped each other out — while he painted, I was slowly having the gardens landscaped, and also doing some renovations to the bathroom. I managed to save up some spare cash this way while slowly doing the renovations with Feathers.
I was still working at Broadmeadows Town Centre, when another friend dropped in to the butcher’s to say hello. Mark was a regular, and was having a barbeque that he needed extra meat for. The occasion was Mark’s birthday. Mark had grown up two houses around the corner from where I had lived, on Graham Street. The whole family had grown up in the house. A few years earlier, Mark had bought the house from his parents, who had decided to sell up and move away from Broadmeadows.
I was invited to the barbeque as well, along with other old schoolmates. I’d always gotten along well with Mark’s family — he was another friend from my time at Campmeadows Primary School as well as Glenroy High School. He had two brothers and one sister, who was a model — a lot of the boys had tried their chances with her over the years.
The barbeque was a big night. I originally wasn’t going to go, but decided to make an appearance. I went to the barbeque after work on Saturday, turning up with some beer and meat. I ended up staying for a while, having a bite to eat and a few beers with the boys. Some of the guys were smoking dope. I stayed till around midnight then left, heading into the city and meeting up with some girls I had grown up with at a nightclub. I stayed out until the early morning with the girls, and spent most of my Sunday recovering from the Saturday night.
After the big weekend I got to work on Monday, still pretty crook from the weekend. In the afternoon, I received a phone call from Mark’s older brother Dane, who was one of the big bosses for Wilson Security. Dane rang to let me know that after everyone had left the barbeque, Mark had suffered a major brain haemorrhage in his sleep. Dane had found Mark dead on Sunday morning.
I was shocked to hear of his sudden death. Mark appeared to be fine at his barbeque; there were no signs at all of Mark being crook. The family did say later on that Mark had trouble with a tumour, and that he had been advised to stop drinking by his doctor — he had been drinking on the night of the barbeque and sharing some dope with the boys, but he still seemed fine and in good spirits.
The funeral was at Fawkner Cemetery, and the wake was held at Mark’s house in Broadmeadows. Mark and his family were very good friends with many Broadmeadows-based families; he’d played football for Broadmeadows Football Club and cricket for Glenroy Cricket Club. He was a little older than me, and he seemed popular with everyone — I was good mates with him and his family, and it was sad to see such a tragedy happen with these good fun-loving people.
At the time of Mark’s sudden death I was twenty-eight years of age, and certainly had my fair share of attending funerals in Ballarat and Melbourne. It made me stop and think how lucky some of us are: to be able to speak, see, walk, hear, eat and breathe. Some people take life for granted, and when your number’s up, it’s up. Since I had been a young boy I had attended many funerals; it’s sad, but it’s part of life for some people to die unexpectedly. Life is too short, and definitely no game, and unfortunately for some people there’s sometimes no control. It’s sad for many families and friends that have lived under these circumstances — whether their loved ones are murdered, pass away from illness or take their own life.
Chapter 10
Busier Than Ever
In 1999 I was thinking about going into business on my own. I had decided to look around for a butcher shop, but I wasn’t in a rush. I thought it was better to take my time to consider my options — it’s a big decision to go out into business for yourself. I was still working at the butcher shop at the Broadmeadows Shopping Centre, and still got on well with everyone I worked with. Most of the staff had worked for the company for many years.
While I was working at the shop I had become very good friends with the cashier, Jody. She had worked in the shop for over sixteen years — she was around thirty-eight years of age at the time, and married with three children. We became very close to each other while we worked together. I didn’t know Jody’s husband, and had never met him.
Jody eventually confided in me that she wasn’t happy at home with her husband, and was thinking of filing for divorce. We would always have lunch together, and have coffees during work and after our shifts. Things became very serious between us, and we didn’t know where our friendship was leading to. We were very good friends, but our feelings for each other were growing stronger and things were escalating into an affair between Jody and me.
Not only was there the problem that Jody was married, but the company had a very strict policy that there could be no fraternising with other staff members, or it would be instant dismissal. We had to be extremely private regarding our friendship and growing relationship.
After a few months had passed, we were meeting at selected motels or at the house I owned on Beatty Avenue in Glenroy. I still had a key to the house, and Jody and I would go there while Feathers and his wife were at work. Sometimes we’d risk Jody’s house in Jacana, while her husband was at work and the kids were at school.
After the New Year celebrations for 2000, I had found a butcher shop. I was at that age in my life where I wanted to improve and make a go of being in business on my own. Feathers had bought a house with his wife and kids, and when he moved out of the house at Beatty Avenue I moved in and started to fully renovate the whole place. At the same time I decided to cut all ties with Jody, even though we were very close and falling for each other. It was the best for both of us, and I wasn’t ready for a major commitment or to take on three young children. In the end it was a mutual decision — it hurt for both of us, but we probably wouldn’t have had a choice anyway. Jody’s husband suspected an affair and many of the employees at the butchers in Broadmeadows Shopping Centre had picked up on the relationship as well. It was tough for Jody and me, still working together on a daily basis, and things were uncomfortable for us both. We still remained friends to a degree, and Jody got along well with my sister, who sometimes worked as a promoter for the butcher shop when we cooked up samples for passing customers.
The butcher shop I had my eye on was in Oak Park. The shop was closing down, and needed a lot of work — I would have to fully renovate and refurbish the place. But my house was close to the Snell Grove shopping strip where the butcher’s shop was located, and it was a great opportunity. By the end of the financial year in 2000, I decided to take on the shop.
I waited for the existing lease to run out between the previous owner and the current tenant, as I knew the shop was losing money. A few months before the actual lease was due to run out, the property owner was told by the man leasing the shop that he was vacating. The owner had let me into the shop on numerous occasions to look around — I could see that a few dollars had to be spent on the shop to get it up to scratch. The shop looked very tired, the owner was going broke, and the tenant had no idea how to manage or run the place. I took the opportunity to measure up the sizes of cabinets and fridges, working on my plans for the interior and exterior of the shop and meeting with a draftsman to put everything on paper. I also sat around Snell Grove on many occasions, to see how busy the shopping strip was.
When the lease was null and void I took on the shop. It would be a big job; it would take some time to build business back up, as the previous tenant hadn’t done a good job running the place. I knew a lot of people around Oak Park and the local suburbs, from school and from diff
erent football clubs. I’d grown up in the area, which would be a big bonus to building up business. I had said to the landlord that I would sign a lease after six months of trading to see how the shop would go. I didn’t mind putting in the money to get the shop fully renovated and refurbished — I wanted the shop to look perfect. But until I was on my feet, I didn’t want to commit myself to a longer lease.
After the owner had agreed to my terms, I decided to take the shop on. I had done my research beforehand, and I knew exactly what the butcher shop needed to get it up and running — I had calculated the costs and knew what needed approval. At the same time I was working on renovating my house on Beatty Avenue. I stayed on at the butchers at the Broadmeadows shopping centre in a part time role until I was up and running, giving my notice of resignation around a month before the grand opening of my Snell Grove shop.
I was obviously very busy during this period, working on my house and at the same time preparing the new shop. I still tried to find time to keep contact with my friends, and they often visited me while I was still working at the Broadmeadows shop. Sutto, one of my best mates from my childhood, had always popped in on a weekly basis to buy his weekly meat for his wife and five children, every Friday after work. Sutto’s wife was pregnant at the time, their sixth child on the way. I had basically lived at Sutto’s house when I was growing up in Broadmeadows when I first became an apprentice butcher — we worked together at the same shop in Richmond, Sutto as a chicken boner.
Sutto had dropped in one day, not long before my new shop was due to open, to buy his meat for a barbeque and invited me over; I had said I couldn’t make it due to football training, and I was busy with the new shop — it was only about two weeks until the grand opening.
The day after the barbeque, I got to work and I had a few mates pop in to the shop to tell me that Sutto had gassed himself in his car after the barbeque. I also received a call from Sutto’s brother telling me the same thing — that after the barbeque he had taken off in his car, and he was found dead a few hours later. Sutto’s brother said to me that I was one of Sutto’s best mates — that was too much for me. I dropped to the ground and ended up taking the rest of the day off work. When I was speaking to Sutto at the butcher shop, he had seemed stable and I saw no indication that he was going to kill himself. Yet another mate had commit suicide, and I took it really hard.
The funeral was a big event — it felt like 90 per cent of Broadmeadows showed up to pay their respects. I spoke at the service, except at first I was speechless and just stood there, stunned for a minute before breaking down. I got through the speech and managed to give my regards to everyone, but it was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. Sutto’s death, as well as everyone else who had died during my lifetime, had caught up to me.
Chapter 11
The Grove
Not long after Sutto’s funeral, I left the butchers at the Broadmeadows town centre, and started work in my own butcher shop in Oak Park, down along Snell Grove. After Sutto’s death, I hoped that this epidemic was over and I wouldn’t have to deal with any more deaths. I was thirty years of age and had opened up my first butcher shop, beginning to set up a major enterprise and take my first big step in business. I was pretty happy; I already had plans to use the butcher shop on Snell Grove as the base for a franchise. I’d put in many hours with my accountant to put together the business plan. My goal was to open a number of shops around Melbourne, and go back to old-fashioned butchering. The shopping centres and supermarkets had slowly but surely had taken over in most areas in Australia, and most street-side shops had closed down as a result of the shopping centres opening long hours. There weren’t many street shops left that could compete with the supermarkets on the longer opening hours and cheaper prices, and the ones that were left had to work hard just to survive.
I had set up in Oak Park because I only wanted to concentrate on street shops — as long as business kept good they could be cheaper to run than locations in shopping centres, and had minimal overheads. I had been working on this business plan for years, since the move back to Melbourne.
After the grand opening of the Snell Grove shop, business was going very good. I decided not to introduce all of the old-fashioned butchering products at this point; I was still getting to know the local area of Oak Park, and I had to be careful. Over the years, the butchering trade had changed completely and the growth of shopping centres had damaged street-side shops. Experts were predicting that the overheads of running a property in a shopping centre would rise dramatically to the point where, even with longer opening hours, it would just be too expensive to keep open. With luck, this would mean street shops would come back into the economy in a strong way. I already saw signs of this happening in local shopping centres.
My shop on Snell Grove looked great and was doing well. I was working on building the local community interest back up and gain local confidence. I got more people in than my previous tenant had managed, which was also a boost to the local traders along Snell Grove. I had many friends and family that would pop in to do their weekly shopping. I supplied a few local football clubs, and made some sales to the Collingwood Football Club boys as well. I catered for functions and parties when required, and kept invested in the local area.
I had a strong collection of regular customers. Old Gus, the father of a mate of mine, would pop in daily to say hello after buying the paper from the newsagent next door. I knew Gus well, and had gone to Glenroy Technical School with his boys Alby and Bezza — we used to ride our motorbikes around in the paddocks after school each day. Most days on the way to Glenroy Technical School, both Alby and Bezza would punch the shit out of each other; we had knocked around together for years, even after I had been kicked out of Glenroy Technical School. They both had families now — Alby ended up marrying my cousin.
Trevor, their older brother, was a machine — he was a professional boxer, and trained at Leo Berry’s gym in Richmond seven days a week. In 2001, Trevor was very well-known in boxing and also around the local area; there weren’t many people that would get in the ring with Trevor, he was a gun of a boxer.
Trevor would also pop into the butchers at Snell Grove to buy his weekly meat and poultry. He owned a house in Glenroy, so it was basically up the road for him and we got along well. One afternoon I saw him as he was jogging past the shop, and we waved to each other. As it turned out, once he got home from the jog, it wasn’t long before he turned on the gas on the stove, sat down in the lounge room and struck a match. The explosion killed him instantly.
No one could believe that Trevor had killed himself so suddenly. Trevor was a great boxer and seemed happy with life, and when he trained the boys at the gym in Richmond, they acted like they had the world at their feet. Trevor certainly seemed stable to me when I saw him.
The family tried to keep the funeral and wake private and strictly for close friends and family only.
By 2001 the shop was doing very well, and I was moving forward with my business plan — it seemed like it was just a matter of time before I made a franchise out of the shop. I still played football for the local club, and spent the rest of my weekends hitting night clubs and attending backyard barbeques with my mates. I decided to take a week off, leaving another butcher to manage the shop, and fly to Sydney.
While I was there I met a young lady by the name of Brooke at a night club on the coast near Sydney. We hit it off immediately. About a week after I came back to Melbourne, I got a call from Brooke. She said that she had fallen pregnant. Brooke told me that she was going to have the child, and I agreed, insisting that I would be at the birth and give my full support. Around 9 months later I flew back to Sydney for the birth of my child, Lilly.
The business was still going very strong, and I was now looking at a few other shops around the local suburbs of Melbourne to add to my business plan. Word of mouth was good and I was becoming more known in the area — a lot of people would drop in to say hello. In fact, I caught up with ano
ther friend of mine that I went to Glenroy Technical School with, Jason, when he popped into the shop to see one of the butchers that worked for me at the time. I hadn’t seen or heard from Jason for many years but I knew his father, the manager of one of the local pubs — I sold and delivered meat there on a regular basis, and catered for functions at the pub.
One of the last times that I did see Jason was at Glenroy Train Station late one night in 1984, when I was thirteen. Jason was with a few of the boys from Jacana when a fight broke out; I was there with a few of my mates waiting for the train to head into the city — mostly drunk already. Most of us were going to Carols by Candlelight in the city. Jason had gotten into a fight on the platform with one of the boys from Sunshine. He had bitten the bloke’s ear off in the fight and spat it back at him as he was lying on the platform; there was blood everywhere. The train had pulled up at the time the bloke had dropped to the ground, and we all jumped on.
I hadn’t seen Jason for a very long time, so when we recognised each other it was great to catch up. We talked a lot about when we had both played football for Glenroy Technical School; Jason was a very good footballer, and had opportunities to go to AFL level. I went back to work while Jason went back to catching up with the butcher he had originally come in to see, and said they’d catch up later tonight.