by Max Howell
Stalwarts girded for the fray,
Will strive for victory,
Their all at Mater’s feet will lay,
That brain and brawn will win the day.
Our mighty sons and true,
Will strive for us anew,
And fight for California,
For California, through and through.
There were signs all over the house and the gate: “Welcome to the USA”; “Good on you Aussie”; “California Welcomes You!” About ten girls next appeared clad in white shirts, gym shoes with tennis socks, and white sweaters with a yellow C on them, and sang the University of California school anthem.
All Hail Blue and Gold, thy colors unfold,
O’er loyal Californians whose hearts are strong and bold
All Hail Blue and Gold, thy strength ne’er shall fail;
For thee we’ll die, All Hail, All Hail!
All Hail, Blue and Gold, to thee we shall cling
O’er golden fields of poppies, thy praises we will sing.
All Hail Blue and Gold, on breezes ye sail.
Thy sight we love, All Hail, All Hail!
Mark felt strangely moved by the songs. They had gripping melodies; and then the band played ‘Waltzing Matilda’, and everyone clapped. Someone suddenly yelled, “Speech! Speech!” and Mark was pushed forward.
All this was totally unexpected, and Mark felt embarrassed, so he mumbled a bit at first. “I hope you can understand my accent,” he said, “but I want you to know that we do speak English in Australia. But every time on the ship I would ask for a coke, I would get a piece of cake. I will have to practice hard to get an American accent, though they will not talk to me in Australia if it gets too bad.
“All this has taken me by surprise, and I have had very limited experience as a public speaker. To tell you the truth this is my first time. So I do not plan to keep you long. All I can say, from the bottom of my heart, that it is a great honour for me to come to America and I only hope Mr Schroth’s faith in me will be justified.”
The swimmers started to laugh. “Mr Schroth? Who is he?” one called out.
“I told you it was George or Coach,” said George.
“That is right,” said Mark, “You did! I just simply forgot. However I learn fast. I hope that I will be able to justify the coach’s faith in me.” They all applauded.
“It is a long way from Australia, but already I feel at home. I thought the eucalyptus tree was unique to Australia, but they are everywhere and they make me nostalgic. And the house opposite us has the most magnificent bottle brush tree I have ever seen. I had no idea I would get a welcome like this, and I hope in the near future I will be able to get to know you all personally. In the meantime, I would like to thank you all for the welcome. As you have probably guessed, I am better in the pool than on my feet, so thanks for everything.”
Everyone applauded, and the band started up again. Many people came up and patted him on the back and welcomed him. One of them introduced himself as Brutus Hamilton, a scholarly-looking gentleman who said he was Director of Athletics, and doubled as the track coach. Mark was to find out later that he was a former Olympian, having competed for the USA in the decathlon in the 1932 Los Angeles Games. His assistant was also there, a friendly man named George Briggs.
Someone handed Mark a paper plate loaded with salad, spaghetti and meat balls. “You will certainly get tired of this meal,” said George. “In America it is spaghetti, meat balls and salad at every team function. It is the cheapest thing there is. Sometimes you will get beans as well. Lots of originality, right? Would you like a beer, Mark? We have a keg for the occasion.”
“No, thanks coach, I do not drink. But I will settle for a soft drink.” In no time he was sitting down in George’s backyard on one of the many lawn chairs that had been distributed around. He was surprised to see the swimmers go up and pour themselves a beer, and he asked one of them about it.
“George treats us like adults, not children. He knows many of us drink, and he would rather we drank with him and around him instead of behind his back. He would soon give us more than a gentle nudge if we overdid it,” said one of the swimmers.
Mark shook his head. There was nothing like that in his experience in Australia. The coaches treated everyone the same, just like children. Having a beer was tantamount to getting thrown off the team.
It was a long time before the party broke up, and by the time it was over he had got to know all the swimmers, who were anxious to swim with him the next day. The age range in the Australian team was so wide, from 14 to 24, but all these athletes were from 20 to 25. There was a general maturity that was not apparent in Australian teams.
When the last visitor left, George showed Mark to his room. It had a large closet, a writing desk and a single bed, and it overlooked a spacious garden. The house was unusual by Australian standards, it was a Californian ranch-style home, low-level, wooden and sprawling, with shingles on the roof. As might be expected, there was a rectangular swimming pool. It was like something he had seen in magazines.
When he walked in to his room, there was a bundle of letters, which were tied neatly, on his pillow. “They are in the order they came,” said George. “I suspect one or two are from that beautiful young girl of yours.”
Mark quickly excused himself, and lay on the bed. There were actually five letters from Faith, one from Frank, one from Terry, and one from his mother and father. He tore open Faith’s letters, and read them voraciously. He was to go over them many times in the next few days, and indeed in the coming years. They expressed Faith’s undying love for him, how much she missed him, and what she had been doing and thinking. He savoured every word, and as he read them he noticed that his face was flushed and his heart was beating faster. There was a feeling of relief when she told him she had menstruated. It had always been in the back of his mind. If it had been otherwise, it would have meant the end of his education.
His mother’s letter was disturbing.
Dear Mark,
It seems funny writing to you after all these years, and not having you around. There was a great deal in the papers about you leaving and a few photographs showing everyone at the wharf. It seemed like half of Sydney were there.
Everything is much the same here. Auntie Ethel is not too well, she has got a touch of arthritis, but the boys are looking after her, that is Reg, Peter and David, and they are even doing the house-work and the washing. Your Auntie Maren, who is not really your auntie, but we have always called her that, is not too well either.
Now what I am writing you about will come as a bit of a shock to you, because you are the only one who has had a soft spot for your father, but I wanted you to hear it from me first. I have left your father, and I am definitely not going back. He was getting worse and worse before you left, but you were not around the last six months so much to even know it. He just could not stop drinking, and he would get nasty. He came home drunk last week, as usual, and he started hitting me and would not stop. My face was cut and pretty bruised, and I feel as if my ribs are broken. I finally got away from him, he was too drunk to follow, and I have not been back since.
I had no idea where to go, so I went to Auntie Maren’s. We have always been close, and her son Rex has always liked me. She gave me a room in her house. Now I do not want anyone to know, most of all your father, but if you want to write it is c/o Maren Coventry, 20 Blackwood Avenue, Clovelly. Under no circumstances must your father know. He might kill me if he found me. When he was on the beer it was bad enough, but now he drinks nothing but cheap wine, and he cannot seem to handle it.
Maren has been really kind, as I left with no clothes and money. I sneaked back and got most of my clothes later. Your father has been searching for me everywhere, telling everyone it was a big misunderstanding and that I will be back. It is more than a misunderstanding, Mark, it has been building up for years and there is simply no way I am going back. He can talk till he is blue in the face but he just
took me too far once too often.
As for what I am going to do, I have made up my mind. Maren knows a woman who runs a cafeteria, and this person has been looking for an older, responsible woman to act as hostess, hand out the menus, clean the tables, and coordinate the time-tables of the waitresses. I have never done that kind of thing, but though I have no job skills I am willing and able to learn.
So there we are! I know you will be shocked but you had to hear it from me. Sorry to give you such bad news just as you arrived in America. There is nothing you can do from that distance and don’t worry, I will make out all right.
Mum.
There was also a letter from his father.
Dear Son,
I am not much of a letter-writer, this may be my first and last, but your mother has left home and I thought I would tell you first before you heard it from someone else. You got me, son, why she left. You know sometimes I get out of hand when I drink, but I never mean any harm, you know that. I have always loved your mother, you and she knows that also. I married her when she was a bloody kid. She knows I meant no harm.
I know I have been on the grog too much, and this business has set me off to drinking even more. Even my best friends do not want to know me. I have not got a cent, I owe everybody, and they are all avoiding me like the plague.
The only chance I have of getting your mother back is to pull myself together, I know that. I am pretty shaky at this moment and I look and feel like a bum. Now I have never asked you for anything in my life, Mark, but you are the only one I can turn to. I know you have always loved your old man, though I must admit I have more than my share of faults.
I have worked it out and I figure I need about thirty pounds to pull myself around. Now if you saw me now and you spoke to your mother she would inform you you would be mad to give me a cracker. She would say no, that me and my mates would go through it in a day. On my word of honour, son, I will do everything possible to bring myself around. I am not such a stupid galah to say I will not have a drink. I reckon I can get myself off the grog by reducing my drinking for three or four days. Then I will be right, and I will not touch the grog any more. I will use some of the money to pay off some debts, and the remainder will be used to buy myself some new clothes so I do not look like a bum. And I will go back to barbering, though I hate the bloody game. Old man Cook is always a sucker for a story and has a soft spot for me, and will give me one last chance.
I hate to put this on you, Mark, as I know how hard up you are yourself, but you really are the only one I can turn to. I know you will not let your old man down.
“Best of luck in America.
“Your Dad.”
The last letter was from Frank.
Me old china plate,
That send-off of yours at the wharves was the greatest thing seen in Australia since Phar Lap went off to race in Yankee-land and you know what happened to him, mate. The Yanks hate losing, Mark, so have someone taste your feed before you down it.
Nothing much has happened here. The Sydney Harbour Bridge fell down, they have cancelled the Melbourne Cup, England have forfeited the Ashes and some big waves were seen at Coogee Beach. Apart from that, and the Prime Minister was caught telling the truth and had to resign, nothing has happened.
Did I tell you about the bloke that was in the mental asylum? Well, he went in to the Library and asked for a copy of Shakespeare’s latest book. Well, the librarian knew that Shakespeare had been dead for a few hundred years, and that this bloke was a looney, so he put him off and told him it had not arrived yet.
Anyhow, this bloke kept coming in every day, sometimes twice a day, pestering the librarian. Did Shakespeare’s latest play come in to-day?
So the next day, when this bloke came in and asked, he said it had come in at last, and gave him a copy of the Sydney telephone directory, which as you know is about a foot thick.
Well, this bloke thanked the Librarian, and sat down and started reading. At the end of the day he marked his place, and said he would try to finish it on the morrow. Well this went on for about a week, and by then the librarian started to get intrigued. As the book was handed in the librarian asked: “By the way, how is the play going?”
“I do not know about the play,” said the patient, “but the cast is fantastic.”
How about that, Mark. Got to keep you up with the latest from dear old Aussie.
By the way, things are getting pretty thick between myself and Noreen. Would not be surprised in a few years’ time if she and I get hitched.
There happens to be something serious I need to write you about, and I hope you do not get upset but, after all, we are mates. I saw your old man the other day, and he was pissed to the eye-balls. Not only that, he looked pretty crook. You know what I mean, Mark. He was not too coherent when I spoke to him, and he did not even recognise me at first. He was really rolling, mate. His pants were almost falling off and his shoes were run down on the edges. Sorry, mate, to tell you. He said your Mum had left him, and he looked like he was lost. I gave him a couple of quid, Mark, he said he needed a drink. He also said he needed your help to bring him around, and he was going to write you. I know how you love the silly old bugger, but he looked pretty far up the creek, mate. If you want me to do anything say the word. You would do the same thing for me, mate, I know that.
So there it is! Best of luck in Yankee land. Send me some bows and arrows and a piece of Golden Gate bridge. Chipped potato, see you later.
Flash.
The letter reinforced the other two letters from his mother and father. He wrote back to his father first.
Dear Dad,
Received your letter and am answering immediately. You asked for thirty pounds, I am sending you forty pounds, everything I have got. I will get the money order to-morrow and enclose it in the letter. You helped me when I needed it, and as it turned out I did not spend anything all the way over. So all I am doing is returning a favour.
But it is more than that, Dad. You have always said you have not helped me very much, but it is not true. I loved you from as long ago as I remember. You used to tell me stories. I did not particularly believe them, but I loved hearing them, and how you told them I could tell you loved me, the way you patted my head and talked to me, and I saw how you were with people, Dad. I only wish I had your gift. They love you.
I can see your faults, Dad, and I will never drink because of them. But, I just cannot believe you and Mum have separated, and I know you have got it within you, Dad, to bring yourself around. So I am sending you all the money I have, Dad. There is nobody more important than you to me, and I know you will do your best to do the right thing. I love you, Dad, and will always love you. We have not been a family that expresses themselves emotionally, and maybe I should have told you earlier. And I love Mum the same, so I pray you two get some sense into you and get together again.
So Dad, I will be thinking of you. Do not concern yourself about me here, I will make out all right. You are the important one, and I know you can pull yourself together. If you need any more money let me know. I will get it for you somehow, and forget about paying it back. I owe you a lot more than you can ever owe me. So, Dad, look after yourself, and I will be thinking of you. Regards to Mr Cook and your mates at the pub.
Your loving son,
Mark.
He then wrote a letter to his mother.
Dear Mum,
I was shocked to get your letter, and believe it or not I got one from Dad too. That must be the first one he ever wrote in his life. Anyhow, Mum, frankly I do not know what to say, I love you both and respect you both, and I just hope that everyone calms down and you both get together again. You go back a long time, you two, and there have been a lot of good times among the bad.
You know Dad, and even he admits he gets carried away when he has had too many, and he is always sorry, though he claims he cannot remember what happened. All I can ask you to do is think over everything carefully, and please do not go down a road
where there is no turning back. You may regret it later on. Dad has promised he is going to reform. I realise he has promised before, but you have really shaken him up this time because you have never left home before. Please, Mum, give him another chance.
I am writing this to Auntie Maren’s place, but I am hoping that before it reaches there you will be back home with Dad at 47 Church Street. As for the job bit, Mum, now that I am gone I think it is a good thing. It will give you a bit of independence, bring in some regular money, and Dad will know if he steps out of line you can look after yourself. It will keep him on his toes.
As for everything here, it is better than I expected. George has a beautiful family, and everyone gets on well. I have my own room, and I will get a job in a few days. The trip by ship was marvellous, we stopped at Fiji, Tahiti and Honolulu, and coming in under the Golden Gate Bridge was the thrill of a lifetime.
Anyhow, Mum, I wanted to get this off to you in a hurry. Remember, underneath it all Dad is a marvellous person. When he is off the grog you could not meet a nicer person in your life. That is why you fell in love with him, Mum, so many years ago. Please give him one more chance.
Your loving son,
Mark.
Then he wrote a quick note to Frank.
Dear Flash,
Thanks for your letter. Your jokes have not improved. They are even worse somehow when they come via airmail.
Had a great trip to get here, and will write you a long letter about it later. I just wanted to get back to you about my Dad. I appreciated you telling me. He and Mum have broken up, and it has really upset me. When he starts playing up he just cannot seem to stop himself, and he goes from bad to worse.
You would do me a great favour, Flash, if you would check on him about once a week. You know his favourite haunt, the Coach and Horses. Everybody knows him there, and if he is not there himself they will give you a pretty good line on him at Mr Cook’s barber shop where he works in between drinking bouts. If he needs anything give it to him, Frank, and I will repay you. I sent him all the money I have to help him pull himself together, but do not tell Mum if you see her. She would say I was just throwing my money away, but a son surely has to help his old man when he is in trouble. So let me know if there is anything I can do.