Mates in the City

 We had moved in with two other Australians from Brisbane : Lou Bickel and Bernie Campbell, renting an old Victorian free standing house in Filmore.This was an edgy suburb on the outskirts of the city, noted for its black population, riots and gunfire,not an address to bring back and park overnight any of the consular corps cars.The rent was cheap. Once Phil and I were coming home from work when gunfire broke out and we dived into one of those old terrace houses with stone steps that led down into a front garden below street level and a basement. Shaking so much we pissed ourselves and stayed well after the the coast was clear,sprinting home as if we had the Black Panthers up our arses.


Lou also worked with me at the consulate and Bernie was with the South Africans, Phil was still with the Kiwis. Bernie has since passed on.


Lou is now one of the "Movers & Shakers" in Brisbane owning night clubs, hotels and golf courses and still works eighteen hours a day, so he says.

Another Australian mate, John Campbell who came from Avalon, no relation to Bernie,  he would also become a "Mover & Shaker" in Californian lumber. John married Cindy Carpenter who he also met on the circuit at the same time when I met Lyn. Cindy's father, Ed Carpenter, was the president of the 'Pacific Lumber Company' started in 1863 and owned 300 square miles of redwoods and the largest ever Redwood Mill built. John started off with the company as a labourer in 1966 and worked his way through the ranks and by 1986 he was president, then, chairman in 2001, he passed on in 2008.

John looking sartorial on his wedding day

Cindy would invite us to stay at her parents retreat up in the Californian Redwoods at Scotia. The drive up into the redwoods was mind blowing as their retreat was way up in the mountains, we would drive through these mountain roads going up and up with the redwoods becoming older and taller as we got higher, the roads became narrower, which seemed to intensify the height of the trees. Then a clearing would appear, where there would be two or three substantial residences for management, in that log cabin chalet architectural style. As you got higher the more substantial they became, more chalet than log cabin, sort of in pecking order of management seniority. Eventually you arrived at the "Carpenters" which was the highest, as one would expect being "the Pres". Their place was like an eyrie, high in the mountains, more like a resort than a retreat. All you can see for miles and miles was mountains, redwood forest, and sky. Mr Carpenter claimed "We own as far as you see ".

John and Cindy taking off on their honeymoon

For entertainment we had contests "the Yanks" versus "the Aussies" - their were four games played; croquet, trap shooting, billiards and drinking, most of the time we lost all four.


John, Lou, Bernie and Phil were big fuckers, all of them over 6'3"and made up the bulk of the forward pack of the first XV SFRC, there was another mate who was an Irish guy - Paul Olin, aka 'the Irish Craft' who was the hooker and he was over 6.' He was an avid rugby player with a long association with rugby clubs around the world. He was captain of Blackrock College Rugby team in Dublin and played for London Irish, New York Rugby Club and was one of the original members of The San Francisco Rugby Club.


He was a well-known business executive in the computer industry both in the United States and Europe. He served in national leadership positions of corporate sales and marketing before starting his own corporation, PCO International Inc.
Paul loved Australians as we enjoyed him, as most Irish he was gifted 'with the gab'unfortunately 'the Irish craft'passed on aged 59 in '99. Through Paul we met many of the Irish/Americans in the Bay City, and like Paul they were all characters.


Another mate was Tony Morgan who arrived later and replaced Bernie, working for the South African Consulate, Tony hailed from Mosman, Sydney, from where we knew each other. One weekend we were driving  with our girl friends through the city in the Black Buick Electra with it's Consular Corps Plates. Stopped at traffic lights, a car full of young blacks pulled up next to the Buick and started abusing us for no apparent reason, maybe they thought we were young rich kids, they would have been right on two counts!! So we took off, and I hammered the car to get to safer quarters and they kept at us, when traffic lights turned red I kept going and so did they, eventually we drove through several sets of red lights before they gave up the chase.


Welcome to San Francisco, Tone!!

Film introduction

The Summer of Love

Living and working in San Francisco in the mid sixties was like a dream come true. I had been travelling and away from home for about three years, having done the "Fairsky" to London where I worked for six months and the mandatory eight weeks around Europe, then to Canada and the Bahamas. San Francisco resonated with me in way that other places did not. Their was an excitement about it, which home did not have and it lived up to expectations which you have about different places when your travelling, some meet it for  little while like Nassau, then the novelty wears off. San Francisco maintained 'a happening vibe' constantly which was due to a lot of factors.


The city is  enticing, it looks good, it has a whiteness  and big sky that gives a clean look and like Sydney you can see it, it has a lot of vantage points due to the steep hills, that help hammer home, that your there. The location on the bay, close by the ocean and not far from the mountains reinforce the outdoors coupled with the parks of the Presideo and Golden Gate Park that are accessible for all.

The Oakland Bay Bridge

The vibrancy in those years came from the music - "If your coming to San Francisco, be sure to wear a flower in your hair" written by the Mamas & Papas and sung by Scot McKenzie, epitomised the total feeling that welled up throughout the city. A whole generation my age was having a wild time, peacefully and mostly orderly for the whole summer and they were "flocking in" from every where.

The Flower Children of San Francisco

We were playing rugby  for the SFRC against the Olympic Club, on one of the fields in the Golden Gate Park and a couple of hundred yards away there was a "love-in" of about 30,000 hippies in another field. Above, a light two seater aeroplane flew over and Timothy Leary parachuted out and landed not far from our game which  was interrupted for about ten minutes by thousands of hippies invading our pitch to welcome 'Timothy' floating down like some god coming to meet his children.


Every vip arriving from Australia or going home via SF wanted to see the Haight Ashbury district, it never seemed to go to sleep, the smell of grass, incense, patchouli pervaded the air, the traffic was crawl pace with sidewalks overflowing with humans in the most amazing array of outlandish fashion and colour, similar to a scene on the sub continent, everyone wearing flowers in their hair or garlands around their necks.There was music from sidewalk guitarists, makeshift bongo groups, Harri Krishna's  conga lines and sound blasting from boarding house rooms and apartments.


Rudolf Nureyev and Dame Margot Fontain were guests at a cocktail party being held at the residence of the British Consul General and were later taken to a party at Haight Ashbury which was busted by the SFPD. They were assisted by two Australians who will remain nameless in their escape across the rooftops, the mind bogles with those two dancing across the rooftops of San Francisco.


Living in SF became like a dual existence, during the week working in the consulate was very conservative everyone wearing suits, collars and tie, with the daily office routine and rigours which governmental departments embrace. My role allowed much more freedom, taking visitors on city tours and meeting with Australians travelling through constantly alleviated any boredom and strictures of mundane office work. Evenings and weekends were driven by what was happening in the city which was determined by concerts and happenings in the parks, after game rugby parties and a romance that was blooming in the wings.

Lyn and Tony in Golden Gate Park

At one of the circuits I met a  hot chick, Lyn Lambertson,and we became an item. Lyn came from one of the Twin Peak Families and was a hostess with World Airlines. She was petite, bright, smart having completed her degree at the University of California, she had a very outgoing personality and was liked by and liked my friends. I got along well with her parents, especially her mother Clair.

Working /Living in San Francisco in the Sixties

The saying goes, " if you remember San Francisco in the Sixties, you weren't there". I was there, though the memory is sketchy and I am relying on others who are still alive to help with these memoirs by dredging through our memory banks.

We became friends with other Australians whom we met through work, rugby or partying.  Most of them played for the SFRUC or worked in other consulates like the British, NZ or South African. They were cruizy jobs, with not a lot of responsibility, our main task was driving our "bosses" around to functions and meetings. My boss was the Honourable Neil Truscott who later became Australia's Ambassador to Lebanon. I would drive him to several functions per week most were at one of  the several universities around the Bay Area. With the inevitable question "What about Australia's White Australia Policy" which had already been dismantled and his down pat reply, about Australia's liberalisation of the migration quotas.

The Consulate in those days was  in the Qantas building on the same level as  the Department of Trade and as I was in charge of the allocation of  cars and drivers we interacted often. When VIP's came to town, which was constantly,  I was given the list of the who's who and be responsible for organising their airport pick up and transfer to Hotels - normally The "St Francis"  or "Fairmont" two of the cities grand hotels, the "St Francis" was directly across Union Square from the Qantas building. Other accommodations  were the "Bohemian" or the "Olympic" Clubs where  Mr Truscott  was a member and would take the visiting vip's for lunch. The wives would like to go shopping and dependant on their status and car availability, this would be arranged with one of the other drivers who would also be an Aussie.

Union Square and the St Francis Hotel

Sir Robert and Dame Pattie Menzies stayed in the official residence, as prime minister in '65 he would often relax with a martini which he asked me to make to his instructions of : two jiggers of London Gin over ice and a splash of Noilly Prat (dry vermouth) a twist of lemon rind with ice removed.

One time I drove them to the opera, and on dropping them off he advised me of the pick up time, which allowed me sufficient time to go to rugby training and for a couple of beers after training, at the "Camelot" which was our waterhole. Whilst there I had a memory lapse, to be brought back to earth by one of my mates reminding me,"aren't you supposed to be picking up Ming". Like a shot out of a gun I was in the Buick and down Van Nuys to the opera house in minutes, to see Sir Robert pacing up and down, Dame Pattie patiently waiting. When I pulled up he did not wait for me to get out and open the door, they just got in and he said "your late driver". In silence I drove them back to the residence which was on the steepest section of Divisadero Street and the driveway was steeper still leading into the garage. I swung the Buick into the driveway a bit to  fast and applied the brakes to hard, Sir Robert was not wearing a safety belt and was catapulted forward hitting his forehead on the back of my head. After we came to a standstill he said"driver have you been drinking" to which I replied "no sir I have just come from rugby training and sprained my ankle". Nothing further was said and fortunately there were no recriminations.

At that time the movie "Bullitt"shot in SF was big in Australia, starring Steve McQueen and Jacqueline Bissett. Some of the more intimate scenes were shot in "Cafe Cantata" - a restaurant in Union Street. I had picked Gough and Margaret Whitlam who were on their way home from New York and Gough was still in opposition. Margaret had seen the movie and asked if I knew of  "Cafe Cantata" which I did, and the following day drove her around for coffee and then up to Haight Ashbury where she was fascinated by the Hippies and aromas.

 Sunday was the party day in San Francisco, there was "the circuit" which commenced with late breakfast at the "Camelot" a bar off Union Street and then across the Golden Gate Bridge to "Zacs" in Sausalito." Zacs "was the catch up bar, if you didn't make the Camelot everyone made Zacs which was on the waterfront and looked back to the city, not that we were into city views. It was a boy meet girl paradise and having an Australian accent certainly helped your chances of hooking up. The strategy, was not to hook up to soon, as there were four other bars to navigate, another in Sausalito, and then two more in Tiburon, this was another funky bay side artistic village like Sausalito, surrounded by the bay with marinas and art galleries galore. Both in Marin County which if I had of lived permanently in 'the states' would be where i would live. After Tiburon it was back to the Swiss Village Restaurant for spaghetti. "Zacs" was my favourite as the staff  and food were great they always had good live bands and it was not so far to drive and if you did well, why drive on!1

San Francisco

San Francisco in the mid sixties was the most happening city on the planet, this was : the Summer of Love; The streets of Haight Ashbury were  magnets for every young American (who had not been drafted to Vietnam)  wanting drugs, sex and rock'n roll; as were the free concerts and "Be- in's" in Golden Gate Park by The Grateful Dead, Jefferson Aeroplane,  the Moody Blues and Mammas and Pappas.


Timothy Leary advocated "turn on, tune in and drop out"


This slogan signified a conceptual way of thinking wherein a a person could turn on to their own way of thinking, tune  into themselves and drop out of society. This constituted a concept of self reliance and was being endorsed by  other prominent counter cultural figures such as the poet Alan Ginsberg, Ken Kesey, Aldous Huxley. Jack Kerouac.

San Francisco Cable Cars

We arrived to this atmosphere in our beat up old '50 RanchWagon bellowing smoke and chugging on only three cylinders and about to give up, which it did on the third day and we dumped it somewhere in the Mission District. My first port of call was the Australian Consul Generals office in the Qantas building that in those days was on Union Square, bang centre in the middle of San Francisco, and was where my mail from home had been directed. Our greatest  needs were a place to sleep and dollars, in that order.


Fortunately there were some Aussie's we knew working at the consulate who knew an Irish guy Paul Olin who had a spare bedroom who put us up for a few nights. I was informed on my next trip to the consulate's office that a position was coming up; as the Consul Generals chauffeur/attache was leaving, a position  which I successfully  applied for. The perks that went with the job included a bedroom for a stay over at the official residence in Pacific Heights, as one of the tasks was to pick up and take home the "boss"each day.


 Working legally in the States was more than difficult for an Australian in the sixties, it was near on impossible. Now having a legal work situation took a big load off my mind and shortly Phil followed up with a job  with the New Zealand Consulate and Richard ended up with the best - being  employed and sponsored  for  a green card by McCann Ericson, an advertising group in LA and being paid by an American company.


We could now relax and settle in and start to enjoy one of the great cities of the USA. Phil and I leased a two bedroom apartment in Telegraph Hill and started to meet plenty of expats and locals.We joined the San Francisco Rugby Club, the bay area had a good comp going which included the universities of Stanford and University of California (Berkeley) and the social life was hectic.

Destination San Francisco

                                        
We flew across to Miami and bought a '56 Ford Ranch Wagon for three hundred bucks our intention to  drive across the southern states and Mexico with San Francisco as a our destination with no time frame in mind.

The Ranch Wagon we bought in Miami for $300.00 and travelled through Mexico and the States

New Orleans was our first stop over as Mardi Gras was on and we had all heard that it was, the place. Travelling through Louisiana we stopped by the roadside for an overnight kip. On either side of the highway were the  "the Bayous" which were wetlands that covered a third of the state. As it was full summer we had the windows down and the backseat was folded down so as to enable two of us to sleep in the back and the other could sleep across the front seat.The idea was to sleep the night away and then drive through the countryside during the day checking out the old plantations such as Oak Alley Plantation and arrive in N'awlins early evening. This was not to be, there is a song called "Down by the Bayou" with a line,' if the sqitioes don't get you then the gators will' Well that's just the way it was, the mozzies hounded us, we didn't see the gators, but we sure got eaten alive by the mozzies.We saw little of Louisiana or the old plantations, we just drove and drove till we got to N' awlins.


New Orleans  was a haze, I know we parked the car in a high rise car park and off course when we came back it took hours to find,  we visited "Pat O'Briens" and had "Hurricanes" I have also had dinner at the restaurant "Court of the Three Sisters" but probably not this time, what happened in the 24 hours we were there is any body's business, eventually we all rallied and took of for San Antonio where we had some girlfriends.


Driving up the hill called Mount Royal, the houses became larger and larger, then morphed into estates, was when we decided to go back down the hill and drive into a gas station to clean up our act. Washed, shaved and with clean clothes we were let into the McAllister's compound on Mount Royal. Taddy's father was the Mayor of San Antonio and had agreed that we could stay a few days and she would show us around.  


We  visited the Alamo which was a mission,' famous for the siege in 1836 where 183 Texans along with Davy Crocket and Jim Bowie took on  and defeated the Mexican Army of 2000 which led to the independence of Texas'. 


We  went often to the Country Club where Richard and Taddy took a shine to one another. One night when we were all sitting having dinner, the father on realising we had been there a week, and eating him out of house and home, decided, we could earn our keep and offered us jobs on his ranch in New Braunfels. A further incentive was, allowing us stay in the guest cottage with it's 20 meter swimming pool.

 Phil and Richard around the pool at the guests cottage, where we stayed at the McAllister Ranch in San Antonio and worked our rings off for 50cents an hour - not for long!!

So adios to the compound with maids cooking us breakfast and being squired around in Cadillacs and Chevvy Impalas by long legged Texan blonds.

So we drove out to the ranch which was into intensive cattle raising and crop growing.After being introduced to the manager and shown the guest house, it was to off to work in the paddocks. Lifting and moving irrigation pipes, loading hay bales from the paddocks onto flat tops "Ooops watch out Rich, there's a snake caught in the wiring" dehorning and castrating steers, all hard, dirty, dusty, bloody work for us city boys. Which as it turned out was work the Mexicans "wet backs" were doing and we certainly did not want to take their jobs, so after a month we collected our pay and headed off to Mexico.

Phil taking photos around the ranch with the ranch house in the background

We drove to Laredo the boarder town and then across to Nuevo Laredo where we were enticed into some Mexican bars and our first taste of tequila. Obviously having an intoxicating effect as we found out that Richard had lost his passport. Not to be deterred about entering Mexico, we decided to smuggle him across the border.In preparation for this deception we pulled down the backseat, Richard then lay down fully stretched out and we covered him with our clothes and bags, so to anyone checking the back of the wagon, it was just clothes and baggage !!!.

We then proceeded to the border and after the initial greetings to the two of us in the front seat, the Mexican Customs Officer walked to the back of the wagon. We got out out and opened the back of the wagon as asked, and what should be looking at us and him, but  the sole of one large shoe. The customs officer then parted further clothing and baggage to discover the shoe attached to a leg which on further discovery was two legs, then a pair of shorts with a body in it, with further investigation a torso and eventually, a large grinning Richard propped up in the back of the wagon, was unearthed by a startled Mexican Customs Officer.  He tried to explain in broken English that what we were doing was very illegal and turned us around and we went back to good old USA.

Taxco a silver town in the Sierra Madre (still a great place to buy silver crafts)

Richard went back to San Antonio to find his passport and Phil and I continued into Mexico and decided to head for 
 San Blas a village on the Pacific Coast that we had been informed had surf and white sand beaches.On the way we picked up two English Girls hitch hikin on their way to Mazatlan which was where we were heading after San Blas.


On arrival we were immediately drawn to the the beach where  there were some palm thatched huts which looked attractive and not to primitive an we all  decided to rent two for a couple of days.After unpacking we decide to meet up with girls in the beach bar. Here we hopped into "muchos cervaza's" and my first taste of the "herb superb".


There were a mix of Californian surfers, other tourists and locals all drinking around a large oval bar in this large shack with a palm thatched roof with no walls. After a while one of the girls called us over to another area under the roof where there was this  concrete pit the size of a small swimming pool. The sides would have been about five foot deep and inside were these crocodiles or alligators, I'm not sure which, they were about six foot long and there were two of them, after watching them for awhile we all went back to the bar which was starting to rev up with music and more people. I started a conversation with one of the surfers who looked like he knew what was happening and asked why the "croc pit" and he said you will find out shortly, then he pulled out a joint and asked 'if we wanted a toke', being my first I said yes if everyone else was going to have some which we all did and then the fun started.


After about fifteen or twenty minutes there was a commotion at the end of the bar with people running in all directions and some jumping on top of the bar as the people separated, our group were faced with this crocodile coming across the concrete floor towards us, the girls started screaming, Phil shat himself and I dived on top of the bar and pulled the girls up. We were hysterically laughing and yelling out for something to be done all clinging to each other with this croc on all fours mincing around. One of the bar tenders jumped over the bar and  produced a long piece of bamboo which he placed between the croc's eyes and manoeuvred and pushed the creature  into the women's toilet where it stayed and we partied on. They say you never forget your first screw, well I'll never forget my first joint. We never returned as we left the following day, but we figured that was "show time" in San Blas which the guy who gave us the joint had alluded to, and gave another meaning to 'Crocodile Rock'.


We were starting to be short on dollars and headed north to Mazatlan which was on the coast. We were on the beach, the four of us in the early evening innocently  talking and having a drink when we were spot lighted from the road with high powered spot lights and then confronted by half a dozen Mexican Police, who divided us from the girls and told us we were under arrest for "fucking on the beach".Which we weren't, but wished we were, which then led onto them telling us if we did not pay the find of a hundred dollars each we would go to gaol, we bargained our way down to fifty dollars each and that was Mexico for us gringos and we headed  back to the states 'mucho pronto'.


Richard was heading also to LA and had a different story:

"Following the event of my lost passport I parted company with Tony &Phil and started hitch-hiking from San Antonio to Los Angeles. I picked up a ride in a big caddie with a guy in his mid-thirties who was headed to LA too.

He offered “a deal “ where by I would do the driving and he would pay for all my meals and accommodation all the way to LA.

This deal was quite short lived. As I woke up in a motel around west Texas and noted that my “benefactor “ had departed along with my money, my airline ticket back to Aussie and a good 35mm camera my father had given me.

The police where called, he had done a runner on the motel bill too!

I commenced hitching again for LA. I obtain some rides with some interstate long haul truckies and lobed into Los Angeles.

I contacted the only person I had a phone number for, a young lawyer James Giffen who lived in San Fernando Valley, with his wife June and two small children."

"June Giffen was wanting to return to finish her degree at UCLA and now that her kids were old enough needed a babysitter, my timing could not have been better.

James Giffen was than instrumental in obtaining me a job interview with McCann-Ericson, a large world wide advertising agency."

"I subsequently got the job and McCannes sponsored me and I successfully obtained a green card, which allowed me to work and live in the USA for as long as I liked.

I spend the next four and half years living and working in Los Angeles."

The sixties and seventies

                                              
Nassau, The Bahamas.

Three of us had been living in Nassau the capital of the Bahamas for two years. We were three Sydney boys. Richard Ovington was from Eastwood, Phil Donaghey from Manly and I used to live in Longueville. Phil and I had arrived independently, Phil from Newquay in England where he had been a lifeguard and I from Edmonton in Canada. I had been working with Unilever  selling soap to the Eskimos in far flung places like Fort St John, Lac La Biche and Grand Prairie during the winter months in Northern  Alberta and the Bahamas seemed like a good place to ‘thaw out’.

Nassau was a sensational place in the sixties for young guys tooling around the world, the island was not beautiful in the sense of the majestic cliffs of the Napali Coastline of Oahu in Hawaii or Ulawatu in Bali. Geographically it was a flat sand atoll called New Providence Island about twenty seven miles long and fifteen miles across, and was surrounded by amazingly turquoise waters.


 It had history, the British had been running the islands for hundreds of years, not for long unfortunately, before that pirates and buccaneers.The flavour, atmosphere, smells was that intoxicating tropical mix of  sea and salt. The Bahamians added the colour, who were 99% African descent, brought across from Africa for labour in the plantations. The streets and buildings were very much British Colonial architecture as were the names. Shirley Street was the main downtown thoroughfare,  quite narrow as it lead into the main square which flowed to the wharves where the cruise ships docked.The   Government and the laws very British then, as were the sports.

There were three rugby teams in the Bahamas. As we all had played  school and grade rugby we joined “the Buccaneers” a team of expats, who were a mix of  Colonials and Brits. There were two other sides ; the “Naussuvians’ which comprised of locals who were mainly black with a few white Bahamians, on the the Grand Bahama Island in Freeport there was the Freeport side. We played against each other with further  games against some of the east coast ivy league teams from Princeton and Dartmouth. The standard was the equivalent to third grade sub district - pretty dismal though the after game partying was legendary as at half time the sharing of a small keg of dark Bahamian rum was mandatory for both teams.

When we had home games we would all adjourn “over the hill” to one of the black bars and get wiped out drinking, dancing and partying to the music of “Mighty Sparrow” and  then to another club called "Charly Charlies" where Andre Toussaint’s group played to sun up, both were the forerunners to Bob Marley and Jimmy Cliff.

Our place of abode was the good ship “Rondelear” and inland river boat brought over to Nassau from Florida. The “Rondelear” was moored at the Nassau Yacht Haven, it had a cabin with two bunks and a wheel house, I lived on this with another Aussie, George Knapton who came from Drummoyne and who played for the ‘dirty reds’ and was the hooker for the Buccaneers. George travelled light, he had one of those maroon plastic Qantas overnite bags with a change of shorts, two T shirts, toilet bag another pair of thongs and not much else except his ukulele and huge smile that endeared him to every one including the commodore of the yacht haven who said "you can live on the boat if it's cleaned up and kept  afloat". Every morning we had to start up the bilge pump to empty the water the boat  had taken during the night and when we came back in the evening from work we had to do the same otherwise it would have water halfway up to the bunks, which was often the case after big nights at "Charlie Charlies". 


I was working as an agent for the oldest and most established travel agent, R.H.Curries, which was  third generation owned. With dark timber panelled interiors the staff were required to wear collar and ties with Jackets. My first task on waking up on the "Rondelear" was to sponge off the mildew which had collected on one of my two jackets overnight, before walking down the the jetty for a shower and shave.


I owned a red mini minor to get me to work and around the island, this had been given to me, and was a total rust bucket having no floors or windows. The seats sat on part of the body structure, my feet could touch the road if not on the accelerator or clutch and I only drove in fine weather, which was most of the time.  The roof was rusting away, the car would not die, it always started and as it was not registered the police would wait to see who owned it, they were easily avoided.

The Bahamas was a destination for cruise ships, tourists from all over, especially for Brits and Americans who stayed in the grand hotels such as the British Colonial, Emerald Beach and Paradise Island. One of the better tasks as an agent was to visit the purser on the cruise ships &  have him sign off on the Bill of Lading which meant accompanying the pilot and customs officer in the tender. The cruise ships were moored out in the channel opposite Paradise Island being where the first James Bond movie was made. As they arrived early morning allowing tourists a full day on the island, and about three times per weeek,  it also gave me the opportunity to partake of a hearty full buffet ships breakfast -' on the house' and a reprieve from island life, as one can succumb to 'rock fever'.


Often on weekends friends would drop by with boats and we would either sail or go by ski boat to one of the closer outer islands or cays,which was a sand island with very little vegetation, of which there were plenty.We would set up a camp site, there would be plenty of driftwood to enable us to barbecue our food, normally there would be no one else on these deserted cays. Our favourite was Rose Island, which was about thirty minutes from Nassau, here we would have beach barbecues, ski and hang out with friends in the sun, or as often the case on the beach under the shade of palm trees diving into the turquoise waters to keep cool.The waters of the Bahamas are so beautifully clear and blue that you want to drink them, due to the sandy ocean floor.The water is so warm you would stay in for hours and your skin would look; like all puckered as if you had been in a bath for to long.

Richard, Phil, George, Helen & I on Rose Island, Bahamas.

Nassau was a small community with a lot of young expats working in the legal and accountancy practices as it was a tax haven and in during the Sixties in the  throes of several large developments. One of them being constructed was Lyford Cay a private gated community considered to be then, one of the wealthiest and most exclusive neighbourhoods in the world. The residents read like a who's who - Henry Ford11, Rainier Prince of Monaco, Aga Khan, Stavros Niarchos.We became friends with some of the American girls whose parents had their "summer houses" at "Lyford Cay"they were all  from San Antonia, Texas : Taddy McAllister was the Governors daughter, Pat Ruffin's father owned Ruffin and Sassoon Banks which were scattered through the West indies.


This was my first exposure to the really rich. As a young Australian growing up in Sydney I was not exposed to the wealth demonstrated here, even though I went to one of the best  schools - Newington College for ten years where all the students came  from well off families, nothing compared to the wealth of some of the families who came across to Nassau from the States or Europe to stay in their summer residences. Fortunately I came from a family where money was not the the main aspiration in life and I was not intimidated by wealth however I respect it, if it does not come with arrogance or self importance.


Another big development at that time was Freeport on the Grand Bahama Island, an American - Wallace Groves  was developing a total township with port facilities and another Casino. I left R.H.Curries as I was offered a job at the "Captains Charthouse"a chain of steakhouses that were located through the West Indies and Hawaii.This was through another Australian friend, Steve Warr, who I had travelled across Canada and who had been in Freeport for the past two years and working at the "Charthouse" since it opened.

Steve and I  in Freeport on the Grand Bahama Island.

This was my first job as a waiter, my first customers were three hookers across from Miami who had been working at the Casino which was directly across the road from the "Charthouse." The restaurant had a large self serve salad bar,' eat as much as you like'. One of the hookers asked me if I would make the salads for them as they been on their backs all night working, obliging I served the salads and obviously gave good attention as they tipped me a hundred dollars - not bad in '1965.


There was one dish that I'll always remember from the Bahamas called "Conch Salad". The white meat from the Conch Shell was cut out, cubed and steeped in fresh lime juice, chopped onions, tomatoes, chilis and parsley added  seasoned with rock salt and a touch of white vinegar, served in a round deep dish. This was revered by the blacks, who reckoned it put 'roger in their dodger', still makes my mouth water.


  I was not in Freeport for long, though the money was good, it was raw and the place felt and looked like a construction site with few trees, lots of sand, concrete, dusty and hot, the heat was relentless, Steve and I were living in a tin shack near the jetty, which during the day was like an oven. Be interesting to check it out again.


The Bahamas had been granted their Unilateral Declaration of Independence (UDI) in 1966 and third nationals as we were termed were the first to get their marching orders, because we were deemed to be taking jobs from the locals, as we did not have any professional qualifications.As the others in Nassau were planning a trip across the States and Mexico I decided to join them.