Chapter 46: Sabbatical

Fighting Fightback!

December 1992 - March 1993

Tactics on this year’s Coffs race were quite different; the wind was a steady twelve knots from the southeast. Therefore, it was a spinnaker run all the way to Coffs; the perfect test for the new hounds asymmetrical number one. The larger boats made the best of the ideal conditions, we were twentieth across the line, several hours ahead of the next Young 88. We sailed reasonably well in the three short courses, but our overall result for the regatta was a tenth on scratch, fifth on handicap. We still managed to win the Young 88 Class, but the weather conditions this year did not suit the smaller boats like ours. Mick Lee raced in his new Jarkan 38, ‘Amity’, coming in fifth on scratch, and sixth on handicap. He had the yacht designer and builder Kanga Birtles as his tactician, and his wife, Gaye was on helm. Kanga was an interesting person; his company Jarkan Yachts, based in Nowra, built the first batch of J24’s in Australia, and he sailed in the 1990-1991 BOC singlehanded round the world yacht race, coming in fifth.

“Not the best of conditions for you this year, Will,” Mick said at the prize giving. “But that new asymmetrical certainly helped on the long race to Coffs, you pulled away from the other smaller boats.”

Of course, as luck would have it, the persistent sou-easters swung around to a steady fifteen-knot nor-Easter for the sail back home; it was a fast, smooth ride with the three-quarter ounce asymmetrical up. During the evening, with the wind behind us, we hit fourteen knots as shown on the speed instruments, pretty impressive, and well over the ‘hull speed’ for the boat. On the trip back, Georgina announced to us that she was pregnant, not quite four months along, which was why she wasn’t starting to show.

“I might have to drop out from the crew after February,” she said. “It depends on how I feel, and what my obstetrician has to say.”

We were all excited for Georgina and Ross, Lisa gave her a big kiss, telling her that she was really happy for her. In our bunk later that evening, I suggested to Lisa that when Georgina takes her ‘maternity leave’, we could see if Fiona would be interesting in filling the pit role.

“I was thinking that too,” she said. “Fee would be good there, she’s organized and methodical, we can ask her when we get back.”

We were all pretty pleased when we returned to Pittwater, while the results were not as good as the previous year, we still won our class, the new sail worked very well, and we all had a great time. When we got home, we mentioned to Fiona that Georgina’s position on the boat would be available for the final two months of the season, including the Easter nationals, and over the winter and for some indeterminate time next season.

“If you think I would be able to learn what to do,” she said. “That sounds like fun, I’ll give it a try. Just don’t yell at me if I do something stupid!”

“I’ve never heard Will yell at anyone on the boat,” Lisa said.

“You’ll do fine,” I said. “If I didn’t think you could handle it, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“By the way, Will, while you were on the race, Paul Keating called for you, I took the message, and he would like you to call him when you get back. Nothing urgent, he said, just whenever you get the chance,” Mary Beth said. “He asked if you had read through the background material on the opposition’s ‘Fightback!’ proposal.”

“I wonder if Paul is thinking about calling a Federal election, it’s due sometime in the next few months,” Lisa said. “Maybe he’s looking for some additional ammunition to shoot that policy down?”

“Paul has been doing a pretty good job of that, without my help,” I said. “He’s made Hewson look foolish, and Hewson has had to back down on some things. But I’ll get my notes, read through it, and call Paul tonight.”

I went into my study, and pulled out the folder of documents that I had been building up on ‘Fightback!’ (yes, the exclamation mark was officially part of the policy name). Or to give it its full title, ‘Fightback: Taxation and expenditure reform for jobs and growth’. In summary, it was every Liberal ‘dries’ wet dream, to mix metaphors. A complete repudiation of the Keynesian economic policies that had previously been at the core of Australian economic policy – independent of which party was in Government – that had been key to the country’s economic growth since the 1930s. Every wish list item from the hard right of the Liberal party was in there, including the abolition of industrial awards, limiting unemployment benefits to nine months maximum, severely restricting the bulk billing part of Medicare – which made most medical services free where the doctors participated in that program – and the reintroduction of Medicare ‘gap’ insurance. A key part was a ‘goods and services tax’ of fifteen per cent, offset by a massive cut to personal income taxes, targeted at the upper and middle classes. Of course, the libertarians had their way, a huge cut in overall government expenditures, particularly in the area of social welfare, and the sale of most government-owned business. There would also be the elimination of tariffs, how they got the National party on board with the, I didn’t know.

The GST was the central plank, and Paul had already successfully attacked it, claiming the was a aimed at harming the working class by shifting the burden of taxation from direct taxation of the wealthy to indirect taxation in the form of a broad-based consumption tax. John Hewson, the Liberal leader and ex-University of New South Wales economics professor was way out of his depth trying to explain how it would work in a manner that the average person could understand. He had already backpedalled some aspects of the GST, particularly with the tax on food and childcare being removed. However, Hewson still had great difficulties in explaining what food items would be subject to the tax and what wouldn’t. Paul capitalized on his gaffe, saying that the person who developed the policy doesn’t even understand it, and added “If you don’t understand it, don’t vote for it; if you do understand it, you’d never vote for it!” I certainly couldn’t see how I could be of any more assistance, but I would talk with him this evening.

After dinner, I went to my study, and called Paul.

“Will! G’day Comrade,” he said. “How did your sailing race go? Did you come back with some trophies?”

“Well, the winds were not in our favour,” I replied. “The bigger boats could go much faster than us, but we still won our class, got a fifth on handicap overall. Still, we all had a great time, it’s a lot of fun.”

“Still, sounds like you did pretty well, congrats. Now, I want to pick your brain for a bit, is now a good time to talk?”

Paul told me that he was considering going to the Governor-General in early February to have him issue the writs for a general election to be held in March. The opposition would be running on their ‘Fightback!’ policies, and he wanted my views on how best to counter them. I suggested that he pick three main avenues of attack; the first the change in taxation composition, secondly the dismantling of the industrial relations and award system that had been in place for almost ninety years, and thirdly the giving away of public assets. We kicked around some messages to build on those lines, I said what we need to stress is that ‘Fightback’ represents a repudiation of the Keynesian economic theory that had been the foundation of Australia’s economic policy since the Great Depression. Despite Australia having a free-market economy, like most other Western democracies, at least until recently, successive governments saw this strategy as the best way to keep the economy stable, with the Government and the Central Bank intervening during depressions and recessions.

Fightback is more of the Friedrich Hayek / neoliberalism school of economic thought, that Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan adopted in the early 1980s, and as a philosophy is out of tune with the general Australian ethos. As I explained to Paul, much of that type of thinking can be summed up as ‘fuck you, I’m alright Jack’, and the American view that individualism is supreme, with the role of government to be as small as possible.

“Explain how if Fightback is implemented, there will be the wholesale destruction of public assets – Telecom, the ABC and SBS, public universities, Medicare, the transport network, utilities, hospitals, education – all because the neoliberals and libertarians have a fundamental problem with government doing ANYTHING that they believe should be done by private companies. Those business activities that are currently run by government as a service to the public will become ‘for-profit’ enterprises, designed to charge everyone more money, for a reduced quality service, just so their donors can make more profits.

“What people here don’t realize is that in Australia we enjoy pretty good value for money from these services, the telephone network is one of the best in the world, the same with our health system, the electricity, gas, and water utilities. A vote for Fightback will be a vote to destroy that, and in fact, a vote to destroy the way of life we have enjoyed in Australia for over a hundred years. It’s a vote to replace ‘mateship’ with the ‘fuck you, Jack, I’m alright’ mentality.

“One thing that would be worth doing is to compare people on minimum wage, average income, and an income of two hundred thousand a year, see what they would pay in taxes under our policies and under Fightback. If that doesn’t show a dramatic shift in the tax burden from the top and middle income people to the average worker, then I’ll eat my hat.”

“Good suggestions, Will,” he said. “We’ve started that comparison, and are redoing it under the reconfigured GST proposal. I’ve never seen you wearing a hat, so what are you going to eat?”

“Don’t be a pedant, Paul, it’s so unbecoming of you,” I replied. “But you know what I mean. I guess I don’t have to tell you to go for the jugular, make a big point of how the Liberal’s leader, Hewson, has never had any ministerial experience, he’s an academic, with little understanding of how regular Australian’s live. Mention how the Nationals will be selling out their base, people in rural Australia, if many of these government business organizations are privatized.”

We continued talking, kicking around various ideas, until Paul said he had to go and prepare for a cabinet meeting. He thanked me for my contributions, and asked if we could have regular review meetings. I asked if he felt I needed to come to Canberra to talk in detail; he said he would think about that, and let me know in a few days.

The opinion polls had been strongly favouring the opposition, Paul was facing a big uphill climb to win an unparalled fifth straight election victory for Labor. Some pundits were saying this was an ‘unlosable’ election for Hewson and the Liberal / National coalition. But if anyone could win, it would be Paul. I just hoped he pulled it off, the policies in Fightback would be a disaster for the country.

The other big thing happening this month was my sister’s wedding. Leslie and David were getting married at St Johns in Mona Vale on Saturday, January 23rd. They had asked me to play the organ for their service, and wanted the Roberttones to provide music at the reception. We were more than happy to ‘reform’ for the day, and I spent some time with them to work out what music they wanted at the service. They wanted the traditional ‘processional’ music when the bridal party entered, Wagner’s ‘Bridal Chorus’, and Mendelssohn’s ‘Wedding March’ as they left. We just had to work out what hymns they wanted during the service and any other incidental music for me to play, and two weeks before the service, we met at the church on the Saturday afternoon, and we discussed the service with Reverend Collins.

While the signing of the register was taking place, David asked me if I could play Beethoven’s ‘Ode to Joy’, and for the two hymns, we settled on ‘The Lord’s my Shepherd’ and ‘Love Divine, All Loves Excelling’. I sat at the organ, familiarizing myself with the settings, getting a sound combination that I felt would work.

“What music version for the 23rd Psalm?” I asked. “The Gilligan’s Island theme? That works.”

I played that music, and sang along, much to my sister’s disgust.

“NO!” she said, cutting me off. “You know, the proper tune.”

“She mean’s ‘Crimond’,” Ron Collins said. “I didn’t know other pieces of music fitted to those words.”

“Yes, even ‘The House of the Rising Sun’, or ‘Advance Australia Fair’. Even Cold Chisel’s ‘Working Class Man’. But Crimond it is.”

I liked that tune, the foot pedal part was challenging in places, I wondered how it would sound in a full sized cathedral, played on a proper pipe organ, with a big choir singing. At least St Johns had acquired a new organ in recent years, probably when they built the large extension at the northern end. There was a large Leslie speaker attached to the organ, and I experimented with the settings, making notes of how the chorus enhanced the sound.

“You really know how to make the organ sound good, Will,” Ron Collins said. “It was a loss to St Johns when you moved away and left us, we need a good organist now that Doris White has pretty much retired. You’re not looking at something to do on Sundays, by any chance?”

“Thanks for the offer, but Sunday’s are sailing days for me,” I said. “Tell me, Lisa, how about this hymn?”

I changed a few settings to give the organ a jazzy brass sound, and played a rather upbeat version of ‘A Closer Walk with Thee’, very much in the style of a Dixieland jazz band.

I am weak but Thou art strong
Jesus keep me from all wrong
I’ll be satisfied as long
As I walk, let me walk close to Thee

Just a closer walk with Thee
Grant it, Jesus, is my plea
Daily walking close to Thee
Let it be, dear Lord, let it be

“Wow! That’s a pretty fancy version of that song, Will,” David said. “We would have people dancing in the aisles!”

“How did you learn that style, Will?” my sister asked.

“Well, I am a professional musician...” I replied. “But it’s in the style of a New Orleans Jazz Funeral, what they call the ‘Second Line’.”

“Funeral music?” David said. “Maybe not at our wedding.”

“Will, would you be interested in helping with the music at a youth outreach we are doing at the end of the month,” Ron Collins said. “My daughter, Ros, her husband, Richard, and a few others you would probably remember from the youth group are running. Steve is doing some of the music, but I’m sure he would appreciate you working with him.”

Ros’s friends, probably that prize bitch Katey ... there was nothing in the world that would get me involved with them. Now, how to say it tactfully...”

“Well, I had a falling out with Ros and some of the others, years ago,” I said. “So I might be a bit of a distraction, and take away from what they are trying to achieve.”

We had the music agreed to, and I would be there the following Friday when they would do the full rehearsal, making sure everyone knew when and how to head down the aisle, when to stand, when to sit, all of the choreography that went into the wedding service. The next Friday evening was the rehearsal, everyone – Leslie and David, plus both sets of parents thought the music was good. Ron Collins had everyone go through the entrance three times, making sure they were walking at the right pace, and I made a note of the overall time it took from when the first person, Kathy Chen, one of Leslie’s bridesmaids first started to enter until my father and sister had reached the front of the church. Likewise, I made a note of how long to plate the recessional, from David and his new wife starting to leave, until the complete party had reached the back of the church. I asked Ron Collins just how long the signing of the registry would take, he told me to allow for about three minutes of music. I made a note of all the tab settings on the organ for each piece, then spent another thirty minutes making sure I was happy with the settings, and made a few minor adjustments. It had drawbars, similar to my B3, but they seemed to have different effects.

Before the ceremony started I would play some suitable contemplative music, ‘Air on a G String, Pachelbel’s Canon in D, and when most of the people had arrived, I would play Schubert’s ‘Ave Maria’, and Allison would be there singing with me. It brought back memories of Cathy’s wedding to Martin Ball, and how his sister ... what was her name? Denise? – sang the same song. As good a singer as Allison was, she wasn’t quite in the same league as Denise, a professionally trained classical singer. Still, Allison’s singing was excellent, a shame that Leslie wasn’t there to hear her sister-in-law’s sister (is there a technical term for that relationship?) singing at her wedding.

As Allison finished singing, we got the sign from reverend Collins that the bride and her retinue had arrived, and I played the opening notes of the “Bridal Chorus”, the congregation stood, and the first of the two bridesmaids entered, then the second, and finally my sister, looking radiant on my father’s arm. The service went well, David and Leslie looked incredibly happy as they left the church. I shut down the organ, and went outside for the first of many family photographs; after congratulating my sister and brother-in-law, I left the church to get over to the Royal Motor Yacht Club for the reception. Our equipment had been set up earlier, I checked the cabling and connections to my instruments and amp, and we were ready for the music.

The music they wanted for their bridal waltz was ‘Fascination’ and ‘Melody of Love’, the second one because that was the music my parents had when they were married. The master of ceremonies was an old family friend, Harold Dawson, who said a few words about Leslie and David, and then it was the official speeches, and finally the bridal waltz. I particularly enjoyed seeing my parents dancing; they both looked so happy, so proud to see Leslie getting married. After the waltz, we shifted into one of our usual ‘wedding dance music’ sets; most of the guests were up and dancing. Eventually it was time for Leslie and David to go, I wished them well, and we packed up and headed back home. It was a great day, not just seeing my sister getting married and participating in the wedding, but being back playing with the others again.

With the wedding out of the way, Lisa, Fiona and I decided to sail up to Port Stephens for a few days, I would enjoy the final week of my summer vacation with the two of them. We decided to break the trip into two sections, on Sunday, we would sail up to Lake Macquarie, stay overnight in the yacht club marina, then continue up to Port Stephens Monday morning. We packed food and drinks, and on the Sunday morning, drove up to Clareville, I motored up to the club jetty, where we put everything on the boat. Conditions were ideal for the short sail up to Swansea, the wind was predominantly from the east, around twelve knots, and we started with the number two genoa, since that was easier to handle, particularly during tacks. With the sails hoisted, Lisa took us out into the main part of Pittwater, then turned north up towards the entrance to Pittwater.

“Why don’t you take the helm, Fiona?” Lisa suggested.

She took my position on the mainsheet, while I moved to the stern to trim the genoa. As we sailed up towards Barrenjoey, Lisa showed Fiona the finer points of steering the boat, how to read the sail tell tales, and what course to steer, using the instruments to make sure we were maximizing VMG. We enjoyed the warm summer’s day, Lisa and Fiona removed their tee shirts, and just sat in the cockpit with their bikini tops on. I kept my shirt on, not wanting a report of me sitting topless in the sun to get back to Traci, knowing full well what she would say if I exposed my body to the UV rays of the sun.

We arrived at Swansea in time for the 3 pm bridge opening, we dropped the sails, and started the motor. When we got the radio message from the bridge operator that we were able to proceed, we made our way through the open bridge, and up the channel to the yacht club, tying up at the marina berth that had been arranged. Lisa and I showed Fiona how we packed up the sails, flaking the main and wrapping the head around the boom, and folding the genoa and putting it in its sail bag. We then coiled up the jib sheets, I made sure the mooring lines were securely attached, and we made our way to the clubrooms to have a shower, rinsing the salt spray from our bodies.

Dinner tonight was in the club dining room, and when we had finished eating it was back to the boat to sleep. We dropped the main table and set it up as a full sized bed, it would be a little tight for the three of us, not that I felt there would be a problem with that. The three of us got into the bed, Lisa on one side, Fiona on the other; at least initially, until we moved around getting into different positions in our love making. At various times I was lying on my back, with both Lisa and Fiona straddling me, or Fiona was on her back as I made love do her while Lisa sucked her breasts, or I was doing Lisa doggy style, while she licked Fiona’s pussy. We spent several hours pleasuring each other, finally going to sleep close to midnight.

We had a fairly late start to the day, waking up sometime after 9:00 am, when we made coffee and breakfast, then it was back to the yacht club for a shower, and to return the keys at the club office. We prepared to depart, making the 11:00 am bridge opening, and once we were out in the ocean, it was heading north towards Port Stephens. While we were sailing I explained the name and purpose of each control line that she would be responsible for once she replaced Georgina in the pit. It was mid-afternoon as we rounded Tomaree Head, and headed to the marina in Nelson Bay. Once we had the boat tied up at our berth and the sails stowed away, it was to the marina office, and we made arrangements with the RSL Club for their shuttle bus to pick us up at 5:30, so we could have our dinner there.

We were clean and dressed for a meal at the club and waiting out the front of the marina for the shuttle bus; once at the club we decided to test our luck on the poker machines. I put twenty dollars in a machine called ‘Black Panther’ – Lisa picked it, because the main picture on the top of the machine was of a large black cat.

“That’s like Fred,” she said. “I’m sure Fred will bring us good luck!”

Lisa must have been right, because within a few minutes we had about sixty dollars credit on the machine, we continued playing, taking turns spinning the wheels. After an hour or so, we were still at sixty dollars, there were no big jackpots that came up for us, just lots of little ones ever few spins. Since we were hungry, we cashed out our money, and headed over to the dining room. Tonight was ‘roast of the day’, a very nice looking leg of lamb, so we all had that, I got us a bottle of red wine from the bar, and we sat at a table to enjoy our meal. The food wasn’t all that bad, while not the best roast leg of lamb I had eaten, it was passable, and the baked potatoes were pretty good.

We decided to check out the desserts, and were walking back to our table with our dessert selections, when I heard someone call out to me.

“Will Morris, I thought that was you!” the woman said.

I turned to look at who was calling out to me, she looked familiar ... it was Beth Ward, Janelle’s mother.

“Beth! What a small world,” I said. “What brings you up to Nelson Bay?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

I asked her to come over to our table and sit with us, she made a gesture to a man on the other side of the room, and the two of them joined us at the table. After introducing Lisa (as my wife) and Fiona (a close friend), she introduced her husband, Alan Hartley.

“So, apart from getting married – congratulations, by the way – what have you been doing? Are you still at Mona Vale Hospital?” I asked her.

“No, I left there about four years ago; I’m now the Director of Nursing – the fancy new title for ‘Matron’ - at John Hunter Hospital, in Newcastle. That’s where I met Alan, we bumped into each other – literally – at the supermarket, and, well, we’ve been married for over three years. You?”

“Well, I bought the house I was renting in Lane Cove, and that first summer, we were doing a lot of work to get it back into shape. A few of us were removing a huge jungle of lantana against the back fence, and after we pulled a lot of it out, the fence collapsed. Well, that was where Lisa was living, I went down to apologize to the owners, and Lisa was one of their daughters.”

“Are you still at the University, Will?”

“Yes, and I was made a full professor last year. Still lecturing, still doing research, I just have a different title.”

We continued to make small talk, Beth asked Lisa and Fiona what they did, so I asked Alan what he did.

“I run a small specialized engineering business, making one-off tools and dies for companies around Newcastle in the steel-making business. I took it over from my father, he set it up, initially making high-quality machines for the steelworks in the 1940s.”

There was something about that description, and his last name, that seemed familiar.

“This might sound a bit out of left field,” I said, “but was your father Jack Hartley, and his workshop on Ingall Street in East Mayfield?”

“Yes, how did you know ... oh, the last name ‘Morris’ ... you’re John Morris’s son, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, my grandparents place is just up Gorrick Street from where your workshop is. Small world!, I said

“I went to Tech High with your father, he was the smartest guy I knew, I guess he’s gone on to big things. Last I recall, he had gone to Sydney on a cadetship with the post office, got married and all that. I’m glad it worked out for him, he was a good bloke.”

“He’s talking about retiring sometime this year,” I said. “I think he’s sick and tired of all the political infighting, the new management that’s been brought in, and he wants to spend time at home, and playing golf.”

“I can relate to that, that would be my choice,” he replied. “Well, not golf, but fishing, that’s what Beth and I are doing up here this weekend.”

“My grandfather would always go fishing down at Lemon Tree Passage,” I said. “He had some crab traps, too, when we would go, as well as catching a bunch of fish – whiting, bream, flatties, there would be some crabs, mainly blue swimmers, too.”

“Yeah, the fishing’s pretty good there,” he replied. “So, what brings you up here?”

“Lisa and I own a sailing boat, a 28 foot racer / cruising boat, and we decided to come up here for a few days, explore the lake, before its back to work for me after next weekend. We’ve got a temporary berth up at the marina.”

We had a pleasant evening chatting with Beth and Alan, he seemed a nice enough guy, and Beth looked happy. I was glad she had finally found someone, she had suffered so much sadness in her life. She was looking good; a quick calculation meant she had to be in her early 50s, 52 to be exact, but she didn’t look a day over 40. Seeing her brought back memories from the winter of 1976, when I did something that I now regretted. At least she made no indication that she wanted a repeat of the few days we spent together. They asked us where our boat was, promising to give us some fish if they were lucky with their catch, we told them what berth at the marina we were staying at. Just after they left, we made arrangements for the next shuttle bus to drop us off at the marina, it would be leaving in just under thirty minutes.

“well, she seems nice,” Lisa said, “but I can’t believe she’s old enough to have had a daughter who is our age!”

I told them the story of how Beth got pregnant when she was fifteen to her high school boyfriend, having Janelle when she was sixteen, and how his parents forced them apart, because he was planning on joining the Army and going to Duntroon to become an officer. Being convicted of ‘carnal knowledge’ of an underage girl would have excluded him from that career path, but his family connections allowed things to be covered up. I mentioned how he was forbidden to see Beth again, and he ended up being one of the first Australia soldiers killed in Vietnam.

“That’s so sad for her, I can’t imagine how I would handle that, and then her daughter was killed in a tragic accident,” Lisa said. “But she seems to be happy now, and she’s found true love.”

The shuttle bus was ready to take us back to the marina, so we headed back to the boat. I had been contemplating telling Lisa about my tryst with Beth, but decided against it, so far I had told nobody, and the secret was still safe. No good reason to change that now, once more than one person knows a secret, it’s no longer a secret. Besides, they didn’t really HAVE to know the full story about Beth; the only people who knew what happened were me, Beth, and somehow, Jillian.

Back at the boat, we got ready for bed, and it was another hour or two of three-way love-making for us before we fell asleep, sometime around midnight. The relatively small size of the main berth, at least compared to our king-sized bed back home wasn’t being a limitation to our night-time activities.