Filling in the Gaps

by Peter Keogh

  The above incident reminds of a more recent one involving a similar part of my anatomy. I used to suffer from the most debilitating migraines from the age of about fifteen and all through my years with Su. Last year after a brain scan - some may be surprised to find out that I have a brain - the migraines were diagnosed as ‘cluster headaches’, also called ‘the suicide disease’ because the pain associated with them is so excruciating. However, earlier back in Perth I had found a doctor who prescribed suppositories for migraines. I think they may have contained a bit of morphine. One night I was in agony with an acute migraine so I popped in a suppository and waited and waited, to no avail, so I popped in another and then another. Talk about a full house! Suddenly I was violently ill from both ends of my body for hours. Finally, as I was starting to black out Sach called an ambulance. When it arrived they found that because I had lost so much fluid my heart had gone into atrial fibrillation, a dangerous condition. They told me to sit there while they got the stretcher and as they left the room they asked Sach if I was his FATHER! That riled me so much that I ignored waiting for the stretcher and as sick as I was I literally stormed - more like staggered - into the back of the ambulance and then collapsed! How dare they?

  To help me recuperate Dad and Mum sent me back to Perth by train for a couple of weeks’ holiday. However, half way across the Nullabor Plain in the midst of the longest straight stretch of train line in the world - 477 kilometers - there was a sudden storm that washed away part of the track. It was going to take at least two days to fix and there was no air-conditioning. On the second day, because of the heat, many passengers washed their clothes in the sink in their compartment and left them overnight to dry on small bushes. The next morning most of the clothes were gone, apparently taken by some of the desert dwellers! I remember one woman screaming out, ‘There go my bras. That woman is wearing my bloody bras!’ It is quite funny looking back. Also on the train was a young woman who was determined to get me into her bunk. I was so obviously gay she must have seen me as a challenge. She asked me to kiss her one night, which I sort of did but she said I wasn’t doing it properly. Which, she said, is why I wasn’t enjoying it as she expected me to, so she decided to give me lessons? It was just so awful –- not to mention the fact that she turned a bit nasty because she felt insulted. When we finally reached Kalgoorlie - still 600 kilometres from Perth - I rushed to see if I could change carriages. I would happily have gone the rest of the way to Perth by camel if need be to escape her clutches!

  Sex, and Almost a New Brother and Sister

  Being back in Perth as a young adult was a lot of fun, catching up with family and the few friends I had, but I was missing Melbourne a lot. My family were most welcoming and I was also treated as though I was almost a ‘man’ - ‘almost’ being the key word - still not quite there today!

  On my return to Melbourne after the lovely holiday in Perth I started to attend theatres as well as cinemas. I couldn’t get enough of show business. I even joined the Beaumaris Players, a small amateur theatre group where I was given a tiny role - one line - in a play called The Shop at Sly Corner. I can still remember the first part of that one line - ‘Mrs Towser of Dunmow who passed close to the spot where the body was found...’ However, my stammer made it harder than most to deliver the line but I managed it successfully for the week it was playing.

  I also saw a few live shows and always managed to find a way backstage - I think I was so damned enthusiastic and just charmed my way past the stage door man. I remember being able to stand in the wings and watch excitedly as the various scenes changed. I also brushed shoulders with many stars of the day but I especially remember the singer David Whitfield, the pianist Winifred Atwell and the very buxom Sabrina from England, who was much sweeter than her sex-symbol image might have indicated. Occasionally I found myself sitting in the male dressing room at one of the musicals between the matinee and evening performances, mesmerised by the dancers putting on what seemed to be a ton of makeup followed by what were called dance belts - all that equipment into such a confined space! Thankfully, not one of them was interested in me ‘that’ way. I was definitely underage and cute so full marks to them.

  Melbourne was also my first experience of what is called a ‘glory hole’. The following might seem a bit distasteful to some of you but it is all a part of my growing up and yet another unique experience for me. I had to use the bathroom at the Australia Cinema and had just sat down when what looked like a baby’s arm fell through a hole in the wall. I almost passed out! I didn’t know whether to shake hands with it or what. I was out of there in a hurry! I found out much later in my ‘beatnik’ phase that the Australia Cinema was notorious for this kind of activity. I came to have further experiences of a similar nature much later that always struck me as rather amusing. Over the years as I slowly ventured more into the gay scene I would occasionally come across other ‘glory holes’ but they always scared me because you could never see who was attached to the member being thrust through the hole. It could have been Jack the Ripper, which is a scarier thought! The procedure in the cubicles was pretty much the same all over the world - feet would touch slowly under a cubicle then a note would be passed under the wall or through the hole asking pertinent questions such as ‘Anywhere to go?’ and ‘How old are you?’ but all with the same intent of having a ‘quickie’. I’m pretty sure the AIDS scare finished this particular practice, not the healthiest pastime but very popular with some gay guys for many years.

  People ask me if I ever felt lonely doing everything on my own but in fact I thrived on my own company, except once when I attended an after-school function where schoolmates picked a partner to do various team events with in the assembly hall. There must have been an uneven number in the class because at the end of the pairing-off the only person left sitting all alone was me! I made an excuse to leave the room and ran across all of the school sports fields and out of the school grounds, crying so much that I felt my heart would truly break. Why did NO ONE like me? I couldn’t catch my breath. So no more school that day! I caught a tram to the city and bought some crisps and Marella jubes and went and to see Debbie Reynolds in The Mating Game at the Metro Cinema in Collins Street. Debbie did the trick but I felt so totally friendless after the movie that I made my way home slowly, escaping into a magazine about my favourite television stars of the day, the Mouseketeers, whom I would later get to know quite well. When I did, I found them so welcoming, living up to the last line of their theme song, ‘Y? Because we like you!’

  Dad and Mum were both given the chance at this time to foster two little Aboriginal children from a Catholic orphanage for a few months, starting early December and over the Christmas period. It was a rescue situation. The little boy was almost four years old and the little girl was about eighteen months. I cannot describe to you how beautiful these children were, especially the little girl. She had huge dark eyes and she loved all of us. The little boy, too, was gorgeous but had obviously not been exposed to very much affection or physical contact. For some reason he fell totally in love with Dad, even called him ‘Daddy’! Dad responded splendidly - carried him everywhere, involved him in all kinds of wondrous children’s activities and was very tactile with him, which made me envious because I had always yearned for that type of contact. Mum, being in love with babies, treated the beautiful little baby girl as if she were her own flesh and blood. She slept with her at night and was forever giving her the stroking and secure feelings of being loved and needed, which it seemed up to that time the little girl had never experienced. It was working out so well that Mum and Dad were starting to think of applying for adoption or at the very least permanent fostering. Christmas arrived and we all sat in tears of joy watching these two little children open presents they had never had or even seen before. Suddenly out of the blue we had a call from the orphanage saying the children’s parents were demanding that the children be returned to them. We had no choice but to obey. The children
were not even allowed to keep their Christmas presents, apparently because there were other children in the family who had no gifts at all. I have never forgotten the sight of the little boy almost physically glued to Dad’s leg; screaming for his ‘Daddy’ to please not send him away. Dad and Mum, Jenny and I were inconsolable. The only other time I saw Dad so desperately upset was when his father passed away.

  I’m quite certain that losing those two magnificent children was one of the deciding factors in my parents trying to have a new baby, for not long after Mum fell pregnant with my sister Patsy. Patsy was a great gift for me. She seemed to really care about me. Mum and Dad doted on her and the dynamics once again changed in our family because my other sister, Jenny, and I no more than tolerated each other - no two people could be more opposite! She adored Dad whilst he and I were like poison ivy to each other, which saddens me now. But he did have a huge cross to bear, with his son who just didn’t seem to fit in... anywhere!

  Looking back, it seems that although I had so much potential to do almost anything, my shyness, stammer and total lack of confidence almost buried me. Certainly, it buried my spirit for a long time but I guess it was all meant to be, because today I am a much stronger, though older, man and I believe that I grew a lot from much of the earlier negativity I experienced. It was swim or drown, and I never could swim and still can’t, but I have yet to drown!

  Show Business Beckons

  When I was about seventeen Dad was promoted again, which meant that he was sent back to head office in Sydney and I was back to where my life really began!

  I worked for a while as an accounts clerk at LEP Transport at Circular Quay near the Sydney Harbour Bridge, until the day I said, totally innocently, to a young woman that I thought she looked lovely and that she had lovely breasts. The next thing I was in the street, sacked on the spot aged about 17! I then obtained a position almost immediately at the Johnnie Walker whisky company as an accounts clerk. Every Friday all of the staff was given a bottle of Black Label Scotch, which I always took home to Dad. Even the smell of the scotch made me bilious, as I never took to drink. Perhaps I had better rephrase that statement - I never appreciated alcohol until I was in my late 20s. I stayed at Johnnie Walker’s about six months until boredom set in and I was off.

  Around this time I ventured to work on a cargo ship to Africa, which I describe in detail in my earlier book. But adventures of another kind also awaited me.

  Looking back now I am shocked to the core how bold I occasionally was with my sexuality, in spite of my deep fear of being found out to be gay and in spite of deeply wanting to get married and have children. The following is an incredibly tacky incident but I guess my hormones were hopping all over the place. One day I was house sitting for Mum and Dad in Applecross, a Perth riverside suburb, whilst they were touring up north of Western Australia. They had booked the lawn mower man to cut the lawn and he turned up with his wife who did the edges. It was a boiling hot day and I was on the front verandah watching this man mowing in just his shorts. Soon afterwards his wife had to go to their next job and feeling kindly I asked him if he wanted a cool drink and if so to come inside. I made some comments about his great tan and body and he responded in a very positive fashion, if you get my drift. We had a quick ‘experience’ and then it was back to the gardening - a bit like Lady Chatterley probably! As awful as it sounds, I guess the fact that he was married was a strange turn on. Dr Freud where are you?

  While in Perth I decided to go back to Sydney by ship, as one could in those days on overseas liners from companies such as P&O and Shaw Savill, as well as smaller Australian ships including the MV Manoora and MV Kanimbla. My choice was P&O’s Canberra. It was huge for those days and I had to share a cabin with a stranger. It was so low in the ship that occasionally the porthole was underwater so the cabin crew sealed it, ominous I thought. It had just two bunks, one upper and lower. I was in the upper and after a day or so of mild sea sickness I was really enjoying being on board. I loved the meals, cinema and especially walking around the upper sports deck after sunset. As usual I was always on my own. As we crossed the Great Australian Bight, I decided to have a haircut, which was available free. I sat in the chair and was covered by a big white sheet when the barber started to work on my hair. Well, not just my hair! Whenever he cut the front of my hair he would straddle my leg and gently rub himself against me. Here we go again, I thought! By the time he had cut half my hair I decided that I had had enough and told him I felt seasick and had to be excused. All very well, until I looked into the mirror and I nearly passed out. I looked like a circus clown! He had only cut one side of my head and it was very short, while the other side was still long with the mullet at the back. I was so embarrassed that I went to the shop on board and purchased a beanie - thankfully all the rage that year - and wore it until we disembarked.

  On that journey very late at night the Canberra had started to turn north up the eastern coast of Australia when a huge freak wave hit the ship, which almost totally rolled over. We fell out of our bunks and were frozen with fear as it seemed like ages before the ship slowly was upright again. We raced upstairs over broken glasses and panicking passengers. The ship was a total wreck with dining rooms and bars filled with broken glass. Not one room escaped some kind of damage. The event made the news headlines at that time. Press were waiting at Circular Quay when we docked - as ever, my life is never dull!

  In Sydney I became acquainted with some older gay gentlemen who were involved in organising the first Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras. At that time Sach was dancing in a couple of gay clubs but we had not met officially. There was much angst about how the public, but mostly the police, would react to us marching as proud gays. I had already been arrested - falsely - for soliciting as a teenager in the toilets of the Prince Edward Theatre, so my anger was justified. During and after our parade, which was minuscule compared to todays, we were harassed, threatened and physically abused. I can hardly comprehend watching the 2015 parade, with the police and armed forces all legally marching, that I am living in the same world. I am proud that we were amongst the first and I became quite emotional seeing the acceptance now. There is still a long way to go in some areas though.

  Back in Sydney showbiz beckoned. At that time there were two famous radio and television celebrities, one male and one female, whom I thought, were terrific. I still don’t know how I ended up mixing in the same circles as they did but as it happens they were both gay and the gentleman found me appealing, so I was asked back to his apartment for nibbles and a drink - not knowing the nibbles he planned were on my body! After a couple of cokes his clothes flew across the room and without being too unkind to him, his private part was no bigger than a thimble so I could barely stifle a giggle. I know - so cruel! I think that it wasn’t just the size of his member but the fact that I felt insulted because he seemed to be enjoying my company and my sincere interest in all things theatrical when in fact his only interest was knowing me in the biblical sense!

  Around that time, I decided to be totally adventurous, so I flew to Los Angeles and caught the famous Greyhound bus from there to New York - once again on my own! We went via places like Cheyenne, New Orleans, Chicago and many other exciting towns. I always sat at the front of the bus behind the driver because there was a lot of ‘wacky backy’ being smoked at the rear of the bus. Once again I was alone but not really lonely; besides, I never really knew how to initiate a friendship. Usually sex was the opening topic but definitely not on this bus.

  Following is an episode in my life that was very sweet, totally unplanned and a most charming interlude, which demonstrates how sometimes unplanned is the best way, a perfect example of which is my unplanned relationship with Sacha.

  When I reached New York I had arranged to meet an old acquaintance who was working backstage on a Broadway show. As I was in the star’s dressing room talking to my old friend I caught the gaze in the mirror of a beautiful-looking m
an called Andrew, who was attending to the star’s wigs. We just smiled and immediately electricity was in the air, something I had never experienced before. It was magical! We exchanged about ten words - the usual pleasantries - then he asked where I was staying and we said our goodbyes. Nothing more than that! Later that night about 2am the phone in my hotel room rang. I picked it up and said, ‘Hi Andrew’. I instinctively knew it was him. He was in the lobby so I gave him my room number. A few minutes later I opened the door and asked him in. We still hadn’t spoken a word. We just stood there looking at each other for a few minutes and then slowly we walked towards each other and fell into each other’s arms. I stayed in New York for a week and I was with Andrew almost every second of every day. We walked for miles arm in arm in the snow, laughed until we ached, shared our deepest hopes and fears. By the second day we said to each other almost in unison, ‘I love you!’ Anyone who knows me will know that those words are the hardest for me to say. However, only with Andrew and then with Sacha did I feel it so deeply that I was freely able to express it. Our final night arrived and we knew that the next day I was back off to the other side of the world. We did not make love but just held each other so tightly that we were almost one. I cried on the bus to the airport, as I was checking in and all of the way back to Australia. We stayed in touch for many years and Andrew even met Su and they sort of clicked. We had a few fun nights together but it was hard for all three of us. I only found a photo of Andrew few days ago together with exquisite cards and letters which are why have been able write this so descriptively. I wonder where he is. I miss him.