Working Class Man

by Jimmy Barnes

  Both guys left a part of themselves with us. I sing about that night every night with Cold Chisel in one of Don’s songs, ‘Letter to Alan’, and after all these years my heart still hurts every time. Billy left behind a family who miss him dearly and Alan, who had fathered a beautiful boy he called James with my sister Linda, left a boy who still needs and misses his dad.

  The road had taken Billy and Alan, but our memories keep them alive, and they are in my heart especially as Don and I start the opening verse of that song.

  When it’s time for your reflection

  As you wait till help arrives

  See our good friend’s face on the dashboard

  And to know you cannot leave that cab alive

  Do you know I reach for you, from later times

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Rising Sun

  TOKYO, 1980

  THE NIGHT BEFORE I left for Tokyo in May 1980, I was so smashed I don’t even remember packing my bags. I was sharing a house in Sydney and we were living like pigs. The place was a mess, clothes and filth everywhere. I couldn’t wait to escape. Somehow, I managed to get to the airport and onto the plane where I drank myself to sleep again. I caught a taxi from Narita Airport in Tokyo to Jane’s parents’ house in the Australian embassy compound. They had agreed to let me stay. It took hours and cost a fortune.

  When I arrived at the door, I must have smelled like a brewery. This was the first time I met Jane’s parents, John and Phorn. I had tried to tuck in my shirt and put on deodorant and chewed some gum but it wasn’t enough. I was a mess and if it was me answering the door, I would have slammed it in my face.

  ‘Hello. Can I help you?’ The voice on the intercom sounded friendly enough.

  ‘Yeah, it’s Jimmy here to see Jane.’

  There was silence for a second.

  ‘Who is it again?’

  ‘It’s Jimmy. Jimmy Barnes. I’m here to see Jane.’

  I heard a click.

  ‘Come on in.’

  JOHN MAHONEY WAS A career diplomat who had been with Foreign Affairs for most of his working life. He was a hardworking and honest bloke who was climbing his way up the Foreign Affairs ladder. Eventually he would represent Australia abroad as one of the country’s High Commissioners. He met his beautiful wife, Kusumphorn, on his first posting abroad, in Bangkok, Thailand. Phorn, as she was known, came from a well-to-do family. Her father was a wealthy Chinese merchant who had seven wives and twenty-six children. She had divorced Jane’s real father Khun Suvit a few years earlier. John met Phorn while she was working at the Australian Embassy in Bangkok. He fell in love with her immediately. Phorn had three beautiful little girls: Ratana, or Jane as I knew her, Pimpa, or Kaye as she had become, and Jep. John fell in love with the children too. John and Phorn were married and the family moved back to Canberra for a short while before his job took them to some of the best cities in the world, Rome, Moscow and Kuala Lumpur to name a few. John and Phorn had two boys of their own, Robert and Richard.

  When I met them, they were the opposite of my family. They were happy and loving. The children were well travelled and well balanced and educated. They were nothing like the families I grew up with in Adelaide. I found it very hard to be comfortable with them at first.

  JANE’S PARENTS WELCOMED ME in and we went into the lounge to get to know each other. My mouth was dry and my hands were sweating as I shook her father’s hand for the first time. He held my hand longer than I expected and looked at me. I looked down, I couldn’t look at him. I had seen the disappointment in their eyes. This was not the kind of man they wanted their beautiful daughter to hang around with. But they were nice. Over their shoulders I could see Jane smiling at me, and for a moment I completely forgot about her parents. I’d hoped that arriving on her doorstep with a song I had written for her would impress her but, when I later got the chance to play ‘Rising Sun’ for her, she wasn’t that impressed, and I had to wonder whether she was really that impressed by me.

  John laid out the rules of the house to Jane and me. ‘Now, you two, don’t think that this is some sort of hotel you can fall in and out of. This is our home and as long as you are staying with us, under my roof, it will be by our rules.’

  I recognised the voice from the intercom. He didn’t sound quite as friendly as he had when I was outside. I was even more worried now. Reg Barnes had used these same words to my sisters when they brought boys home. They never stuck to his rules. Not even for a minute. But I had the feeling this would be different. I wanted them to like me too, so I promised myself I would be on my best behaviour. As soon as I sobered up.

  ‘You can stay with us, young man, but don’t for a minute think that you two will in the same room. In fact, we don’t even want you two to be alone together in this house. Do you understand?’

  This seemed a little strange to me as Jane and I had been living together in Sydney, but it was their house and I would have to stick to their rules. I guess.

  Jane smiled at me and then looked sternly at her father. ‘Oh, Dad. He has only just got here. Be nice.’

  ‘Now, your room will be just up here near our room and we would like you to make yourself at home. This is our home and we keep it nice and tidy and we expect the same from you.’

  I was still looking at the ground. ‘Yes of course, sir.’ I wanted to get away for a minute and gather my thoughts. ‘I’ll just go and unpack my clothes and have a shower.’ I could smell myself more every minute I stood there.

  ‘Yes, a shower would be good but the maid has already unpacked your clothes for you.’ John continued talking to me but I couldn’t hear him. I was too busy panicking. What? What maid? I’d never had a maid do anything. Shit, what was in my bags? I couldn’t remember packing them. Oh my God. Had it gotten warm in here suddenly? I was sweating now. I could feel the sweat forming on my neck and then chilling before running down my back.

  ‘Don’t worry, Jimmy. They’re not as fierce as they act.’

  I looked at Jane and then at them. They looked fierce.

  ‘Of course you will have dinner with us this evening. Nothing fancy, just a shabu-shabu.’

  I guessed that shabu-shabu was some sort of food group. I only hoped it kept still while I ate it. ‘Yes, of course. Ah, ah, thank you for allowing me to stay.’ I reached out my hand again. Again Jane’s father held onto it for what felt like a lifetime. He was looking straight into my eyes. I tried not to blink but I know I did.

  ‘Thank you both so much.’ I reached out to shake Jane’s mum’s hand but she had already turned away.

  Jane blew me a little kiss.

  In my room, on the shelf, I could see the contents of my bag. All folded neatly and placed in little piles. I could smell them too. My clothes stood out from everything else I could smell. Jane’s family home smelled perfect. Not like any home I’d ever smelled before. These were different smells. Sweet smells I didn’t recognise. Something from another world. Flowers and spices. And then there were my clothes.

  In my bag had been my clean clothes. Well, clothes that had been washed but hadn’t been dried properly. Slightly musty smelling. Then there were my leather pants. I had come off stage the night before I left and thrown them into the bag. Maybe I’d need them? I don’t know why I packed them. But they were wet and smelled of the sweat from the hundred shows that they’d seen since they were last cleaned. And then I looked at the bottom shelf and there were my shoes. A pair of work boots with steel cap toes. That would be handy if I got a job in a factory or if I wanted to join a skinhead gang. A pair of Adidas Rome running shoes that I had worn on stage for the last tour. And then, sitting alone at the end of the line of second-hand shoes, was one women’s stiletto-heeled shoe. Fuck. Was that in my bag? How did that get there? It must belong to one of my flatmates. Oh my God. The maid would surely report back to Jane’s parents.

  I showered, scrubbing myself until my skin was nearly peeled off. But I could still smell vodka. I stood sniffing each piece of clothing, trying
to find the least offensive things to wear. Looked at myself in the mirror and tried to straighten my hair. I hadn’t really combed it in about five years so I could only do so much. Then I went back out to face the music.

  JOHN WAS WAITING WHEN I came out of my room. ‘You ever play squash, young fellow?’

  Jane interrupted. ‘Dad, he just got here!’

  I smiled at her. I had this under control. I wondered if this was some sort of test. I had played squash once or twice but would I say I knew how to play the game? ‘Yes sir. I love playing squash,’ I lied. ‘Maybe we could have a game sometime.’

  Now I thought that this was just conversation. Anyway, they didn’t play squash in Japan, did they? The nearest court must be in Malaysia somewhere.

  ‘Great, why don’t we go and have a quick game before dinner. Shake off the cobwebs from your flight. What do you think?’

  Now I was nursing the mother of all hangovers but I tried not to let on. I thought I could use diplomacy to get out of the confrontation. ‘I know you’re a busy man. I don’t want to bother you or waste your time going out to find a squash court at such short notice and all. So maybe another time. In Australia perhaps?’ I thought he was just trying to make me feel at home so I had given him an out.

  ‘It’s not a problem. We have our own private court right here in the building. Come on, get your gear on, young fellow, and we’ll see what you can do. Ha ha ha.’

  Suddenly I got the feeling that I was in trouble. But how much trouble could he give me? I was much younger than him and he wasn’t a small man. Not fat, mind you, but I could surely tire him out after a little while.

  ‘Love to. I’ll get my sneakers and shorts on and be right with you.’ I’d already made up my mind that I would make it look like I was trying very hard but I would let him win in the end. It would make him feel good about himself and get us off to a good start.

  We walked downstairs to the court and I couldn’t help notice that John had a spring in his step and an air of confidence about him. He couldn’t be that good though. Could he?

  ‘I hope you are ready for a flogging, young fellow, because you don’t really look like a squash player to me.’

  Even if he couldn’t play, I had to admit his psychological gamesmanship was good. What did squash players look like? Did they look like him? I wasn’t sure. ‘Well, we’ll soon see about that, eh? You can serve.’

  John served and moved to the centre of the court and that was where he stayed for the rest of the game. Myself, on the other hand, saw a lot more of the court than he did. John hardly moved anything except his wrists. And that was enough to have me running flat out from side to side, only stopping occasionally because I had smashed into the wall or fallen onto the floor with exhaustion. By the end of five games I thought I was going to have a heart attack. My face was so red it was about to explode and my lungs were screaming out for me to stop and lay down and die.

  This was John’s plan. I could see it now. He didn’t like Jane’s choice of friends and he was going to kill me right here on the squash court.

  ‘Another game? Ha ha ha.’ He was beginning to sound evil by this point.

  ‘I’d love to but I think the jetlag is getting the better of me. Shall we stop and just call it a draw?’

  There was no way I was going to get away with this. I could tell John was very competitive.

  ‘Well, considering you haven’t won a point, a draw is the last thing I’d have thought of. I think that I have flogged you, young fellow. If you’ve had enough we can call it quits, but I could keep going for a few more games.’

  I knew and he knew that I was beaten and no amount of small talk or excuses was going to change that.

  ‘If you don’t mind. I think I have to stop. If I don’t I think I might die. You’re very good at this, aren’t you?’

  John was a gracious winner and patted me on the back and said, ‘Let’s call it quits before you do yourself an injury. I have played this game all my life. I get the impression you haven’t.’

  ‘Was I that bad?’

  ‘Sorry but yes you were. Let’s go.’

  I limped back into the house. I was tired, hungover and now felt like I’d run a marathon as well. I had another shower and then we sat down for dinner. I was pale and could hardly speak. The shabu-shabu sat motionless on the plate waiting to be dipped into the boiling soup. For some reason, I felt that I was a lot like dinner, sitting motionless, waiting to be boiled.

  ‘I’ve been reading a lot about you and your band in the Australian papers. We get them all here, you know. Sounds like an interesting life you lead.’ As John spoke I suddenly remembered the headlines in the papers in Australia for the last week. ‘The Thousand Girls of Jimmy Barnes.’ A month or so earlier I had been woken in the middle of the night by a phone call. It was a reporter from a very smutty newspaper called Truth. Now the only truth Truth published was in the form guide for the races and even that could have been contested. The rest of the paper was filled with nude photos and stories about aliens and sex. Sometimes there were aliens and sex in the same story.

  Anyway, the first thing the reporter said was, ‘Hey Jimmy, how many girls do you think you’ve slept with?’

  I, having been woken from a deep sleep, wasn’t thinking clearly or I would have told him to fuck off. I mumbled and groaned and said, ‘Oh fuck. Are you serious? I don’t know, thousands.’

  Then I hung up and went back to sleep and forgot about it until I saw the newspaper posters. ‘This week, Jimmy Barnes tells us about the thousand girls he has slept with. In a five-part series we examine the life of Cold Chisel’s wild young singer.’

  ‘How the fuck did they make a story out of that?’ I thought. I was glad Jane wasn’t there to deal with it. Of course I never imagined her or her parents reading it in Japan. So I just ignored it until that moment at dinner.

  Drip. Drip. Drip. I was starting to sweat.

  ‘Dad, let him eat. He’s tired.’ Jane could obviously see I was dying. But I kept digging a hole so I could crawl into it.

  ‘Ah, ah, em. You can’t believe all you read in the papers. They, ah, they, em, make up a lot of stuff, you know.’ I had nearly choked on a piece of slightly cooked squid. I think that’s what it was. My face was red. Jane’s parents sat examining my every move. Waiting for me to break.

  Drip. Drip. Drip. I could feel the sweat again running cold down my back. ‘I don’t read the papers myself. They’re full of rubbish, I think.’ I was sinking into my chair.

  Drip. Drip. Drip. It must have been collecting on my chair by now. Fear was oozing out of my pores. I was sure they could smell it.

  ‘I suppose you make a lot of money in your business then?’ John said, taking the pressure off me for a minute. ‘What do you take home a week, if you don’t mind me asking?’

  Drip. Drip. Drip. I was drowning by this point. The sweat was gathering on my forehead and falling onto the prawns that lay looking at me from my plate. Even they wanted to know how I would get out of this.

  ‘Ahem, yes well. It’s not that simple. Ahem, you see we, ah, sink a lot of what we make back into the band. So we don’t make a lot in our hands.’

  John was starting to look closer at me, as if he was trying to see what I was hiding. ‘So do you take a decent wage or does the band pay all your expenses? And what about tax? Who deals with all that?’

  Drip. Drip. Drip. ‘Not a big wage, but enough to get by on.’ Now I was lying. I couldn’t tell them my real wage. Even I knew that twenty-five dollars a week was not a lot of money. ‘Less tax and expenses. Yes, that’s right. Oh, you know, I get by.’

  John let me off the hook. ‘Oh that’s good. Of course, it’s none of my business. Glad things are going so well.’

  I excused myself. ‘I’m so worn out I think I have to go to bed. Thanks for having me here.’

  ‘Goodnight. I think we all need an early night. It’s been a big day,’ John said.

  We all got up and I headed to my room.


  Jane stood up and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘See you tomorrow.’

  I kept walking to the safety of my room and shut the door. I wasn’t convinced that they didn’t hate me, but they seemed nice enough.

  AFTER A GOOD NIGHT’S sleep things seemed a little better. I opened my bedroom door and was confronted by a very strange smell. Now I had definitely never smelled this before. My eyes were burning and I could hear John and Phorn talking in the kitchen.

  ‘Jesus, Phorn, if the maids have to make kapi can you get them to make it outside? The whole house is going to smell like this for days now.’ Kapi, I found out much later, is a Thai delicacy made from aged and fermented shrimp paste and tastes much better than it smells.

  Jane was working at the embassy all day so I was on my own. I left the house and I spent the day walking around Tokyo. I didn’t go far from the embassy. In Tokyo I felt like a complete alien. The simple act of walking around trying to find a cup of coffee was a huge challenge. I’d never been in Asia before and I loved it. The doors of the taxis opened by themselves and the interiors were so clean you could have eaten off them. This was a lot different to Sydney cabs. In Sydney people bled and spewed and God knows what else on the seats of the cabs and I always felt I was going to catch something when I used them. I loved Japan and I still do.

  I returned to the house to meet Jane. John was right, I could still smell the shrimp paste, but I sort of liked it. I waited in my room until Jane came home from work, then we went out and had dinner and a lot to drink. Jane introduced me to a few of her friends. They were all from a different world to mine but they were nice. They worked in shipping and banking and other jobs I’d only read about. But I just wanted to be alone with Jane.