There had always been only one way for an impecunious swimmer to compete, and this was by accepting a life of severe financial hardship and hard work. Dawn had been permitted to compete in the first place because she had undergone this test and proved the depth of her character and her determination to compete, but now she had been deemed fundamentally unsound and disqualified from international competition. The sentiment in coaching circles was that the only one ever to beat Dawn Fraser was the Amateur Swimming Union of Australia.
Danny had tried everything in his power to have this decision reversed, including applying pressure from the state government and finally the media, but the Swimming Union proved to be a law unto themselves. This despotic and recalcitrant attitude of the swimming body, taking its cue from the all-powerful Avery Brundage, became known in swimming circles as ‘Brundage’s Bondage’ and proved too strong for anyone to undo.
The word ‘amateur’ meant ‘self-supporting’, but without any sponsorship at all. As an example, if a local hairdressing salon gave a swimmer from a poor working-class family the money for a rail ticket to compete at a swimming meet, the swimmer was disqualified from ever competing for Australia. Money was seen as tarnishing the noble image of Olympic sport, and, it seemed, the image of the British Empire and Commonwealth Games.
Despite being warned at the outset that he would be punished for interfering, Danny had gone ahead on behalf of Balmain’s beloved Dawnie. He could see little difference between this and the case of Paul Jones, the little Welshman who had been denied a military medal because there had been no officer present to attest to his quiet heroism. Danny had fought his entire life for a just system and he wasn’t going to be easily scared off.
When the swimmers were selected to compete in Jamaica, Sam’s name was not included on the list. In fairness, her times were not as good as they had been, but she was still consistently recording the fastest 100- and 200-metre times among Australian female swimmers.
This drop in her performance was a mystery to her coach but was put down to several bouts of bursitis and other injuries collectively known as ‘swimmer’s shoulder’, and blamed on overtraining.
Sam, despite the occasional nagging injuries, the distances swum and the long hours, loved the training routine and the camaraderie of the other swimmers. She happily sacrificed the social life that Gabby was just beginning to lead – going out several times a week to perform at folk clubs with her guitar, or in the youth orchestra with her beloved violin. Having been put up a grade, both girls mixed with friends at least a year older than they were, and, like their classmates, they were now preparing for their Higher School Certificate the following year – a new final-year exam that would be introduced in 1967. It was a big load for both girls, neither of whom had yet turned fifteen, but they seemed to relish it.
Gabby had appeared several times on Brian Henderson’s Bandstand on Channel Nine, singing folk songs from America, Britain, and occasionally Australia, and was frequently recognised and stopped by young people in the street. On one occasion on a Saturday morning she had been almost mobbed by the eager young crowd outside Erin Walsh’s Brokendown shop. Photojournalists, present for a fashion show and prepared to capture Sam modelling the latest miniskirts, jostled to snap pictures of the popular young folk-singer twin, who was also a serious student at the Sydney Conservatorium. Gabby’s talent for working the crowd, first demonstrated at primary school when she recounted the Saturday matinee movie, was standing her in good stead. She was very pretty, and modelled herself on American folk singers such as Joan Baez, whose music Dallas sent her regularly. Sam, hitherto the centre of attention, was not in the least concerned that she was being overshadowed by her musical twin. In fact, she shared in and enjoyed Gabby’s success, knowing her own ambitions lay elsewhere.
Sam had lots of boy swimmers to amuse her, and she’d been grabbed and kissed and asked out by boys so often that she knew herself to be an object of desire and by far the prettiest swimmer in New South Wales. In fact, Sam was so attractive that both Danny and Helen had warned her about unwanted attention from men. Massages were routine after a training session, but in Sam’s case they were always performed by Ursula Carlile out in the open. She was warned never to accept a massage from a male coach, an assistant or any other man. If she was away at a country or interstate swimming meet and Mrs Carlile couldn’t be present, Sam was only to accept a massage in the open with other adults present. Sam knew from the other girls that sometimes a massage had nothing to do with curing sore muscles, and that some of them had been touched in inappropriate places by local coaches, assistants or helpers.
Sam’s world consisted of pace clocks, goggles, the sharp slap of a rubber swimming cap over her ears, the constant smell of chlorine, bouts of ringworm, ear infections, sore eyes, rashes, dry skin and chlorine-induced asthma. Occasionally there would be a whack in the face or a split lip from a wooden paddle caused by a careless turn as one of the male swimmers in the next lane worked on his strength training. But through it all there was the constant urging and repeated reprimands of a fanatical father.
Rising at 4.30 a.m., Sam and Danny would head out in the dark for the Drummoyne pool, where she would swim four and a half miles in two hours. Australia had shifted to decimal currency in February, and metrification would follow in a few years, but for now Sam and Danny still used inches, feet, yards and miles. The distances were set at 200, 400 and 800 yards. In the afternoons Sam swam for another two hours, covering about three miles, mainly short distance stuff, such as fifty or a hundred yards.
Ever since Danny’s entry into state parliament, she had been coached by Forbes and Ursula Carlile, as well as by assistant coach Tom Green when the Carliles were in Europe coaching the Dutch team. Karen Moras, three years younger than Sam and a working-class girl like Dawn Fraser, was another of the Carliles’ ‘Golden Fish’, the term used for swimmers who had the potential, in the eyes of their coaches, to achieve gold either in the British Empire and Commonwealth Games or the Olympic Games. Sam was an obvious choice for selection to go to Jamaica.
The media put two and two together and started to cry foul at Sam not being chosen. The Swimming Union denied any wrongdoing, giving Sam’s slower times as the reason she was passed over. The media retaliated by saying that no swimmer in Britain or the Commonwealth had achieved her performance times in the pool in the past year, but the swimming officials simply stonewalled, refusing to discuss their decision.
Sam was devastated. The week before the team was announced she’d reached parity with her previous times in the trials for selection for Jamaica, and an ebullient Forbes Carlile said he believed she was at the point of moving beyond them. In an interview before the team was announced, Carlile claimed his ‘Golden Fish’ was ready to take on the swimmers from Britain and the Commonwealth, and considered the Jamaica Games as the unofficial Australian trials for the Olympics in Mexico City in 1968.
But it was all to no avail: Danny was being punished for daring to challenge their decision to ban Dawnie, the working-class girl who threatened to be the greatest of all Australian swimmers. Poor Sam was caught between a rock and a hard place. Her loyalty to her father and the devastation she felt at the decision kept her in a constant state of turmoil. While, of course, she’d always denied it, she had been secretly confident that she would go to Jamaica – her times justified it and her consistent performances showed that, aside from unforeseen circumstances, she was a certainty for a gold in the 100- and 200-metres as well as a medal, if not a gold, as a member of the women’s 4 × 100-metres medley. Sam wasn’t vain or puffed up; she simply knew she was the best in her category and therefore expected to succeed. But there wasn’t a swimmer or a coach in Australia who was under any illusions about why Danny’s daughter was overlooked by the selectors – his attempts to have Dawn Fraser reinstated had been all over the media.
If Sam hadn’t already known why she had been singled out for
punishment, she soon did once she heard people refer to her as the ‘second Balmain victim’. She couldn’t bear to be seen at training or in public, where her fellow swimmers would pity her or people would expostulate or sympathise with her over her victimisation. For the first week she refused to go to training, and going to school was agony. Danny had promised her that he would not rest until the Swimming Union members changed their minds, but when Sam woke one morning to find that Danny had left for work so early that she’d missed him, she knew at once why.
Helen hugged Sam for a long time and simply allowed her to cry and to drown in her own misery. Finally, she held her daughter at arm’s length, and looked directly into her eyes. ‘Samantha, I’m going to tell you something about your father that we decided years ago – in fact before you and Gabrielle were born – never to tell you.’
Sam, despite herself, was curious. ‘What?’ she sniffed.
‘Before the war, everyone knew that your dad would represent Australia in rugby league. In fact, if the war hadn’t intervened, he was certain to have been selected for the next Kangaroo tour of Great Britain. So, you see, he too had to face disappointment and forego the honour of playing for his country. Like you and Dawn, he was the great hope of Balmain, and people loved him. Danny Dunn was the local hero and kids followed him as he walked down Darling Street.’
Sam nodded. ‘Must have been tough, really tough.’
Helen then told the story of how Danny, captured by the Japanese, had gone to the rescue of a mate, because it was his duty to defend one of the men for whom he was responsible. She described how Danny had been savagely beaten. ‘The attack was so vicious it fractured his back and all but ruined his face,’ Helen said, now fighting back her own tears. ‘Samantha, your father did that for a mate and because it was his duty. As a result of his fractured back he would never play for Australia or play any sport again, other than swimming and rowing his beloved skiff to keep fit.’ Helen paused. ‘When he tried to help Dawnie, he saw this as his duty as the member for Balmain. What you need to know is that he is your closest mate and would gladly give his life for you. He is desperately disappointed for you, and last night he cried in bed because he knows this is his fault and there’s nothing he can do to fix it.’
‘Oh, Mum, that’s awful!’ Sam whispered, awestruck at the thought of her father crying.
‘No, listen to me, Samantha. You must understand. Given similar circumstances he’d do the same again. Your dad can’t bear unfairness, and he’ll always fight for the underdog against mindless, or even mindful, authority. He simply couldn’t make an exception because you are his daughter.’
‘I . . . I understand, I really do,’ Sam said, ‘but it’s still so unfair!’
‘Look, Dad and I talked last night, and we agreed that at nearly fifteen you are old enough to make your own decisions. So, if you really believe you can’t continue with swimming, then we would understand if you decided to give up trying for the Mexico Olympics. You can change schools if you want to and concentrate on your HSC, then decide what you want to do with your life. What do you say, darling?’
Sam barely waited for Helen to finish. ‘But, Mum, Dad has always wanted . . . he’s always expected me to swim for Australia. I know how disappointed he was when Gabby stopped swimming! Remember, you had a terrible row and you threw that wine bottle at him. Gabby and I were scared stiff! Dad was furious!’
‘Yes, I won’t deny that, but first and foremost he wants you both to be happy. You’ve already got a drawer full of gold medals, Sam —’
‘But I promised!’ Sam interjected, clearly distressed.
‘Darling, it’s a big wide world. Whatever you do in life, the swimming you’ve done all these years has taught you character, determination and the will to succeed; none of it is wasted. Dad knows and accepts that.’
‘No!’ Sam cried, clearly alarmed at the suggestion. ‘Three gold for Sammy! I promised!’
Helen looked sternly at her daughter. ‘Are you sure, Samantha?’
Sam kissed her mother. ‘Thanks, Mum, but I’ve made up my mind.
I won’t let Dad down.’
‘I know, darling. So let’s show him just what his daughter is made of, shall we? The Mexico Olympics are in two years’ time. Let’s make that your aim. But remember, if you miss out on selection, or a medal, we’ll . . . he’ll love you just as much. He just wants you to try your hardest.’
Sam sniffed and wiped away her tears with the backs of both hands. ‘I’ll do it,’ she said, jutting out her chin.
Helen smiled, then, cupping Sam’s face in her hands, she looked into her daughter’s startling blue eyes, and kissed her gently on the cheek.
Sam rose to her feet. ‘Where are you going?’ Helen inquired.
‘To find Gabby and apologise; she came in to comfort me and I told her to bugger off!’
‘You didn’t use the “f” word, I hope, Samantha?’ Helen said sternly, though there was a twinkle in her eye.
Sam nodded. ‘Sometimes it’s the only word that’s right, Mum! But she’ll forgive me – I’m her twin.’
Danny, devastated, had talked with Helen long into the previous night, raging and swearing until he had vented most of his anger, then weeping helplessly with frustration and grief. On Helen’s advice, he had agreed to talk to Sam, but after a sleepless night, he left early for work, putting off the confrontation until that evening.
He didn’t beat around the bush. ‘Sam, we all know why this happened. It’s my fault, not yours, and I’m sorry, terribly sorry. Life sometimes doesn’t deliver those things we feel entitled to. Events get in the way; unfair decisions, like this one, get made. We have to learn to bear these burdens or they crush us.’
‘But, Dad, it’s so unfair.’ Sam’s composure crumpled in the face of her father’s distress. ‘All you did was try to help Dawnie, and now they’re punishing us! And what if I never get another chance, like Dawnie?’ she lamented.
‘Life always gives us another chance, darling,’ Danny said, not entirely believing his own words. ‘We just have to pick ourselves up, brush ourselves off and have another go. Let me tell you a true story. It’s sad, but I think you’re strong enough to hear it.’ Danny then told Sam the story of a prisoner of war called George Watford who had been with him in Thailand. ‘George rescued a starving mongrel dog and shared his food ration with her . . . she was an ugly little bitch, with lots of character. George grew to love her, I think more than his life, because by halving his food ration he was starving himself to death faster than any of us.’ Sam, knuckling the tears from her eyes, listened intently. ‘One day a Japanese soldier beat the dog to death with a pick handle, in front of George —’
‘Oh, no! The poor little dog!’ Sam burst into fresh tears.
Danny, noticing Sam’s horrified expression for the first time, decided against telling her the fate of the dog. The soldier had taken an axe and chopped the scrawny pup into four pieces, then made the broken-hearted George cook and eat it.
Danny patted Sam on the shoulder, then continued. ‘George Watford survived the camp, mostly due to getting his full rations back, and when he returned to Australia he studied to become a vet. He told me that he very nearly took his own life over the incident and I believed him. But he decided to live, and today he runs Australia’s biggest animal shelter for the RSPCA. So, you see, darling, some things make us stronger, more determined and better, even though at the time we believe we lack the strength to survive.’
Sam nodded grimly, then attempted to smile. ‘But, Dad, I need those gold medals to stick up your arse,’ she wailed. Danny left his daughter’s side, believing that, whatever happened, she was going to recover.
Danny resigned from parliament before the 1968 state elections. It had become clear to him that the Askin government had the potential to become as corrupt as the previous government – possibly even more corrupt – and that it
was only the presence of the two Independents that kept them honest. The polls were indicating a big swing towards the Liberals, so Danny decided to resign as the member for Balmain, having achieved his purpose. The legislation to clean up Balmain and the other industrial waterfront areas around the harbour had finally gone through. Surprisingly, in the end, Labor made no attempt to block it in the Upper House.
Askin, true to his word, had offered the offending industries generous terms and financial help to relocate to the west. While the Waterside Workers Federation organised a protest march under the usual banner – ‘Jobs for Waterside Workers!’ – the local people quickly saw the benefits and only the diehard communists continued to thump the bar and demand their legal rights to air and water pollution.
Bob Askin visited Danny when it became clear that he was not going to stand for another term and offered him a safe Liberal seat. ‘Danny, all the polls indicate a landslide for us. It looks very good and I could almost certainly offer you a ministry. One of the reasons for our predicted success is the harbour-front clean-up. We’d like to do the same in Newcastle and Wollongong, and you would make an excellent minister for state planning. What say?’
‘Bob, I got lucky. I was here when you scraped into government on the bones of your arse; I’m under no illusions. With the greatest respect, you’re Frank Packer’s man and a big-money politician, whereas I’m, at heart, a poor man’s politician. If you scratch me, you’ll discover a blue singlet – wouldn’t suit the crisp-white-shirt style of your blokes. Thank you, but it’s time I went back to the law and put a few more wife beaters away.’
‘Don’t worry, Danny, there’ll be plenty of work for you from my government.’
Danny laughed. ‘As long as it isn’t defending the indefensible.’ He paused. ‘Bob, I have to thank you for keeping your word and passing that legislation. It was my reason for going into politics in the first place.’
‘No, Danny, it was the legislation the city and the state needed. Anything I can do for you in the future, just come and see me.’
The Story of Danny Dunn Page 61