by Peter Keogh
Back in Sydney I was offered a job with World Book Encyclopaedia in North Sydney, which turned out to be quite an experience. The manager at the time told me that he and I had to do a quick business tour of some of the country branches, he was married with children and it was to be a five day trip! On the first night I was told that we had to share a room - danger bells started to ring - so we checked in to what I think was a motel. We had a nice dinner, planned our strategy for the following day’s meetings, had a few drinks and then decided it was bed time. All good until after lights out and at about 2am I felt his presence beside me in my bed - an aroused presence! He suggested that my future could be rosy if I agreed to his requests. I was not totally shocked and I don’t know why but I was very firm and told him to return to his bed. He did so but he was furious! Next day, he totally ignored me so I resigned - not that I could afford to! I had to make my own way back to Sydney, sad but pleased with myself for being so strong.
In those days there was a very famous nightclub in Sydney called Chequers, where my partner Sacha had danced at one stage of his career and where I was taken to see a performer called Frances Faye. I didn’t know much about her but thought it unkind not to attend. When she started her act I was shocked to the core and really appalled. One of the songs was called Johnny Has a Yo Yo or something similar and it was extremely saucy, as was the rest of her act. Being the good Catholic lad I was, it shocked me deeply. Friends today will find that a totally foreign concept - me being shocked by vulgarity! The Hilton Chevron Spade Room was at that time in competition with Chequers and hosted some other big stars including Jerry Lewis, Jane Powell and Connie Stevens. I was unable to afford the cost of seeing them but I did write to Connie Stevens who was appearing over Christmas and suggested she spend Christmas Day with our family, which of course she did not do, but she wrote a lovely note with a signed photo expressing her gratitude! Connie later married Debbie Reynolds’ ex-husband, Eddie Fisher, after Elizabeth Taylor had divorced him, and she had two daughters by him.
I then obtained a job as stage manager at The Chevron Silver Spade Room where a musical sketch show called Is Your Doctor Really Necessary was playing. It starred actor Robert Hughes, who now resides in prison for interfering with young female cast members of the comedy series Hey Dad.! We worked together for about three months and years later Sach toured with him and our pal, actress Amanda Muggleton, in a play called Don’t Dress For Dinner. Amanda played the role that my ex, Su Pollard, initiated in the West End. Not once was there any indication of his penchant for younger ladies, thank goodness! However, even then there were rumours abounding. Very sad and a bit hard to comprehend that a man who had everything could stoop so low.
By this time the world-famous theatrical producer, John Frost, was my partner. He was working at Channel 9 and my next job was prop master on the musical Applause starring Eve Arden at the Metro Kings Cross. During this period a very famous musical comedy actor asked me back to his apartment for ‘whatever’! I have to say that I was very flattered and a bit turned on by his attentions and against my better judgement I agreed to go to his home after a performance. I felt very guilty about going behind John’s back but obviously not enough not to go! The evening progressed pretty much as I had expected and after I said my goodbyes I went to the street to drive back home but the car was up on blocks - all four tyres were stolen! My Catholic logic just accepted it as punishment from ‘above’. I had a hard time convincing John that it was an ‘innocent’ evening! Obviously he now knows the truth.
Through John mainly I met many big names who passed through Channel 9. He was particularly fond of the MGM musical star, Ann Miller, who was a great pal of Debbie Reynolds. By now I had obtained a position at the Sydney Opera House, which I loved, but once again I attracted a much older actor who was quite famous but also very much a gentleman. He sort of adopted me - obtained seats for me to a lot of shows and rehearsals but no real strings attached until suddenly ‘love was in the air’! He was one of the most kind and generous men and kept buying me expensive gifts such as a small stereo set, records, jewellery, books - and the straw that broke this camel’s back - a fur coat! I have to say that I did look quite fetching in it. But no way was I going to keep any of the gifts - too many strings - so I packed them all up and had them delivered to his dressing room. I never have been able to feign romance for anyone, under any conditions. If I fell for someone I fell so deeply it would totally cloud my judgement but I could never fake it - even for a fur coat! Just the thought of fur coats angers me today.
John and I were extremely jealous of each other - and I mean extremely jealous. It probably had a lot to do with my flirtatious but totally innocent attitude when we met new people, especially in the world of theatre. Before I met John, I used to think that the only proof someone cared about me was that they would want to have sex with me. However, if anyone ever responded to my flirtations I would literally do a runner, as I did with some quite famous persons who passed through the theatres I worked in. I was always the person who was quite happy just to satisfy the person I was with without having any need to satisfy myself. I have no idea what that means in a psychological sense but it was all I needed.
Another incident that occurred around this time was a situation that still causes me anguish to talk or write about today. I was very friendly with a famous actress and we shared many good times and also many sad times over the years. She was heavily involved in a relationship that was not healthy for her for many reasons; it was like being hooked on an awful drug. I visited her one day to find her terribly upset and in uncontrollable tears with her mother and was informed that she had just discovered that she was pregnant. In those days this news would have killed her career instantly, and more importantly she just was not ready emotionally to be a parent. The other issue was that her partner, who was also fairly well known, was not offering in any way to support her if she went full term with her child. She also could not tell her father - such were the times. The decision was made to have an abortion, which then was illegal and dangerous. I pleaded with her to keep the child, not only because I find the thought of terminating something that already has a heartbeat abhorrent, but I would have happily raised the child as my own because I desperately wanted to be a parent and could not see it happening the usual way. I also just loved babies - human and animal - and still do now. They melt my heart. My biggest joy as a teen was baby-sitting, especially for very young babies, which is one reason I became a sort of second parent to my sister Patsy when she was born. I was almost sixteen years old.
The decision was made, the abortion was booked in secret and plans were made for me to drive her with her mother to a house, not a clinic, in an outer suburb. My heart was heavier than I could recall it ever being, plus the matter of my religion was causing me great distress. After we arrived almost in disguise we made our sad goodbyes and her mother and I were sent away and told to phone back later that afternoon. Her mother and I were so upset we barely spoke but held each other’s hands. Finally, we picked her up and she was wrapped in a rug and decidedly unwell. As we drove home her mother cradled her in her arms and not a word was said until we reached her home, where she went straight to bed. I stayed on a few hours with her mother until she was awake and sitting up having some soup in bed. The sadness in her eyes still haunts me today and I tear up just thinking about it. I walked home sobbing and on the way dropped into my local church, looking for some kind of peace and asking for forgiveness because I had been a willing party to one of the greatest sins of my church. It still fills me with guilt today. I know all about the arguments for freedom of choice but for me the whole incident was one of the greatest sadness.
John’s mum, Lou, and her partner, Lyle, were regular visitors to our place and we had the best time together. His brother Shane was also an occasional visitor and fortunately we all seemed to get on. My dad and mum visited us once and also became very fond of John, which made me so
happy. We lived in a sort of duplex in Cremorne and whilst very basic it was a lot of fun. Except for two occasions, one of which was when the cat we had adopted gave birth to six beautiful kittens. They were playing in our back yard when one of them crawled through a little hole in the fence to our neighbour’s place where there was a very aggressive ‘pug’-type dog. Next thing I heard a loud, distressing meow and I ran to the hole to pull the kitten back by its tail but only half of the kitten came back - the dog had bitten the kitten in half! I was bereft beyond words and fell to the ground in shock. I cried for days!
The other occasion was late at night when John was working an evening shift at Channel 9. All of a sudden I heard the most blood-curdling screaming and moaning. It was totally terrifying, so much so that I was sure a woman was being murdered. I placed my pillow over my head to lessen the noise and eventually I called the police, who where there within minutes. They banged on the neighbour’s door, only to be greeted by two sweaty people who up till then had been in the deepest throes of passion! Until that time I had no idea that women reached as high a state of ecstasy when they climaxed as a men did. I had no idea that women were even able to climax! It made me feel not only embarrassed for the neighbours but also shocked and very uncomfortable about women. To my mind they were just the receivers of men’s lust, mainly to bear children, as horrible and misogynistic as that may sound, but that’s all I knew.
About that time Debbie Reynolds entered my life and made impossible dreams become a reality. I have just watched her receive the Screen Actors Life Achievement Award. We felt so proud of this remarkable woman. I was so lucky that John, too, was a big fan. From little acorns big oaks grow - that little acorn of a fan letter to a movie star became life changing several years later.
Debbie, London and Back to Perth
John and I had decided to go our own way by this stage and I had met and formed a relationship with a very charming American who was studying to be a lawyer; he is now one of the top lawyers in Australia. This man was very special to me and also was a huge fan of the singer Shirley Bassey, as was I, although not to the same degree as he was. He had a beautiful singing voice and sang Bassey songs a lot. He had an etching of Shirley above our bed and every night just before we went to sleep we would toast the etching with a gin and tonic, which I hated but drank to try to impress him, being the chameleon I am. We raised our glasses to the etching and said ‘Cheers Shirley’ as Goldfinger or another of Shirley’s hits played in the background. We even had a beagle we called ‘Shirley Basset’, even though it was a beagle! Luckily, he - not the dog - was a fan or converted into a fan of Debbie Reynolds, so we flew to Melbourne together to catch her show at The Swagman restaurant. At Debbie’s behest I took off to Los Angeles to catch up with her after her Australian tour (see my earlier book). When I went to her dance studio to organise where we would catch up I met her company manager, who was a Chicano - a person of Mexican descent born in the USA. He was gorgeous looking and quite gay but not at all my type. He booked me a hotel room near where I was to meet Debbie after her show at Knott’s Berry Farm, a big theme park near Disneyland. I met him and checked in to the hotel a few hours before the show. I had to shower and dress while he lay on the bed watching television. When I came out from the bathroom it was on for young and old - on and off to be exact - him on and my towel off! To my embarrassment I reciprocated somewhat. After all, he was Debbie’s manager and had been so generous to me. As I’ve always said, when I do something wrong I do it perfectly!
Debbie was the perfect hostess. We had our photos taken then had a great night with her team. I probably could have stayed - it was hinted at - but Australia and making a livelihood loomed! My American friend, the Shirley Bassey fan, and I decided to go our separate ways. Who could blame him - so I decided to return to Perth. I was lucky enough to be employed by the now-demolished Playhouse Theatre as front-of-house manager and box office trainee. I had the best of times. I was on the fringes of everything show business and even had a few admirers, not of any particular sexual persuasion but just dear sweet people who seemed to think I was okay. One of them, Stanika, was a refugee from Europe and had been a doctor in her own country, but when she was told she needed refresher training for Australia she refused to undertake it. She was a true eccentric but kinder than I could express here. Often she would bring me flowers wrapped in aluminium foil and when I asked her how she could afford them she said she made a detour through the local cemetery and picked them from various graves! Her family were quite unkind to her at times and I really felt sorry for her, so I would regularly visit her in her very basic and quite sad unit. She passed away a few years ago and Sach and I really wanted to attend her cremation. On arrival at the cemetery we found that the total number of mourners was nine - Sacha, me, her estranged sister and six pall bearers who were all bikers and very heavily tattooed. It was such a shock to us to see them that I asked them how they knew Stanika and told them how kind they were to carry her coffin. They informed me that over the years she had made contact with them and whenever she found out that they were needy and in dire straits she would come to their club rooms with all kinds of food, from soup to full meals, and also helped in other ways. She was on a pension and very needy herself, but her kindness did not really surprise me and still touches me today.
Mind you, I was not all that kind to some people - unintentionally, I hasten to add. One of our regular patrons when I was box office manager at His Majesty’s Theatre was severely disabled in a wheelchair. Very severely disabled! However, I was unaware that he had been a professor and lecturer at the University of Western Australia before he became so ill. His mind was still perfect but his body was just a shell. I would hear a loud banging as he manoeuvred his electronic wheelchair through the box office doors but he very much resented any assistance. Once he was inside I would ask him to try to point to the poster of the show he wanted to attend but his frustration only grew. No matter what I tried we could not connect and understand each other. Finally, he pointed to a sort of Monopoly board that was in a pouch behind his wheelchair. With great difficulty he managed to spell out the words ‘I AM NOT AN IDIOT!’ I was mortified and very upset. Soon after a new staff member arrived who was very willing and able to communicate with him. To my great shame, after that incident whenever I heard the wheelchair banging and crashing its way into the box office I would hide under the counter and send my staff member out to assist him. I believe he is still around today and I hope that he is dealing with people who are kinder to him than I was.
Another interesting and sad patron during my term as box office manager at His Majesty’s Theatre was a gentleman I only knew as Reg. He was quite elderly and never seemed to be very well. He bought just one ticket to every show and always asked to sit at the back of the theatre and on the aisle because he said he had an odour emanating from his body that was offensive to a lot of people. He had often been abused and asked to leave public transport because of this odour. I always felt very much for this man and became involved in several lengthy conversations with him. He occasionally abused me for some minor thing, which he would explain later was caused by his ‘illness’, so it was easy to make allowances.
I eventually asked him if he would mind explaining to me what had happened to him to cause the awful odour, not to mention a large number of open and weeping sores on his body. I could only see the sores on his arms and neck but apparently they were all over his body. He explained that in 1956 the British and Australian governments tested nuclear devices on the Maralinga Range in South Australia called ‘Operation Buffalo’. Prior to selection, the Maralinga site was inhabited by the Pitjantjatjara and Yankunytjatjara Aboriginal people, for whom it had a great spiritual significance. Many of them were relocated to a new settlement at Yulata, and attempts were made to curtail access to the Maralinga site. Sadly, these were often unsuccessful. Reg was one of the servicemen who was used as a sort of guinea pig on these sites. The autho
rities never acknowledged this until they were forced to because so many servicemen were either dying or becoming very ill from all kinds of sickness. In 2001, Dr Sue Rabbit Roff, a researcher from the University of Dundee, uncovered documentary evidence that troops had been ordered to run, walk and crawl across areas contaminated by the Buffalo tests in the days immediately following the detonations. One of these troops was Reg, as the British government later admitted. Dr Roff stated that “it puts the lie to the British government’s claim that they never used humans for guinea pig-type experiments in nuclear weapons trials in Australia.” Reg finally received a small pension but nothing could ever compensate for what he had been through.
I am very glad that Reg came into my life; he taught me a lot of things. However, my staff, including Sach, could not serve him because the odour would make them retch. I often used to walk Reg into the back of the theatre without paying for a ticket if a show wasn’t too full and he was so grateful that his tired old eyes would fill up and he would have to blow his nose to disguise his tears. I know that he had children but they were estranged. I have not seen Reg in years but often think of him and the service he did for his country that was barely recognised, and I pray that wherever he is he is at peace.
At about this time I met a person who was in Perth touring with a big show from the UK and I decided to go back to England with him. It was not a successful relationship and I shoulder most of the blame, so we parted. I was very lucky to have received some wonderful reviews for my last book - all except one! In spite of the big number of good reviews it was that one bad review that really got to me. It was unrealistic to expect everyone to like the book but that one really stung. I was determined to get to the source of the nasty comments, which were headed ‘A Pretentious Load of Rubbish’. I finally found out that they were made by the ex-lover mentioned above. I was probably a bit unkind towards him but finding out who it was made his comments not hurt as much. In fact, they barely touch me!