The recent unprecedented high blood pressure reading of this scribe -205-must surely be due to the thousand and one delights experienced at the James Cook University library . Each time I enter the distinctively designed building my heart begins to flutter as I know I am in for another exciting , productive bout of discovery. Last year and in recent months I imbedded myself in the Special Collections section from time to time to peruse the personal papers of extraordinary activist , Kiwi author Jean Devanny , who died in Townsville on International Women's Day 1962.
The urge to shout Eureka! with great frequency was stifled as Devanny’s boxes yielded new leads, insights and information about many interesting people and events I have been researching for years. When you read that Devanny’s daughter , Pat , studying music in Russia, was allowed to actually play Tchaikovsky’s own piano and met the man who ordered the execution of the Russian royal family in the basement at Yekaterinburg on July 17,l918 , one’s pulse tends to accelerate like a V8.
One day , during a luncheon break from Special Collections , I had a quick meal in the refectory , then headed to the Australian Literature section in the student library , again full of great expectations. My hands shook and I muttered a silent , uncouth oath , not wanting to shock diligent , clean- cut students in nearby cubicles , when I came across a sunned , slim volume of poems , NO ASTERISKS, by Max Dunn.
Inside was the handwritten name of the previous owner – KENNETH SLESSOR , (1901-1971), journalist , editor , war correspondent , bon vivant, Sydney Journalists’ Club president , one of the nation’s finest poets , held in high regard overseas. An acclaimed work , the elegy Five Bells, prompted by the drowning of a friend, Melbourne Punch black – and- white artist Joe Lynch , in Sydney Harbour on the night of May 14,1927 , inspired artist John Olsen when he was commissioned for $35,000 to produce a large mural for the Sydney Opera House ,which he called Five Bells .
My interest in Slessor is due to the fact that when I was a copyboy on the The Sun, Sydney, in the l950s, he was a leader writer and reviewer on the paper . Always dapper, he was held in high regard . Eloquent , with blue eyes and the pallid, pinkish appearance of an albino , he stood out . Often , he stood with hands clasped behind his back , like a headmaster , when talking to a person . Alexander Macdonald , with impish, expressive, large eyes and a bowtie , in his autobiography The Ukelele Player under the Red Lamp, said that Slessor rarely ventured onto a beach , but when he did he was swathed from head to foot against sunburn in white towelling –like an upright Moby Dick.
From time to time , I delivered mail, galley proofs and other items to Slessor’s office, always receiving a polite thank you. I could not help notice that he liked roasted peanuts in a shell, as he often was seen shelling away while reading . Frequently, he had a lengthy luncheon break at the nearby Journalists ’ Club, then in Phillip Street , where one of his many associates was caricaturist Tony Rafty [ whose life has been covered in Little Darwin] , also a war correspondent , who arranged for me to enter journalism. While making deliveries to Slessor’s office on two occasions I found him sound asleep, his head in a mound of peanut shells scattered across the desk, reading glasses pushed up on his forehead .
Slessor presided over a small group , the Condiment Club , which during the 1960s met , consumed fine wine and tucker, and discussed a wide variety of topics, laughter served up in great quantities. A member , big Bill Grill , was the chief sub editor of the Fairfax Sun-Herald newspaper when I was employed there . Grill had an aversion to ”dirty bastards” who did not wash their hands after going to the toilet , thus spreading all kinds of germs via the door handle . Whenever he went to the toilet , he washed his hands thoroughly as if scrubbing up to perform heart surgery , wiped them with a large piece of paper , tore another large piece of paper from the dispenser and then , using it like a glove, yanked open the door , stepped quickly outside , turned , and threw the paper back inside so that it fell to floor. His father had died when an apartment building caught fire. Grill lived in a flat up near Darlinghurst and it was said he had a length of rope tied to the foot of his bed so that in the event of fire he could escape out a window .
I knew Slessor’s son , Paul , when we both worked as reporters on the Sydney Morning Herald , and at his invitation bought from a dark and aromatic pad he was sharing in the Eastern Suburbs some Indonesian oddities, including a lengthy priest’s necklace made from carved coconut shells , subsequently blown away in Cyclone Tracy.
****
It is interesting to note that Slessor’s father –Robert Schloesser- a mining engineer , was actually in Townsville in l889 and went out to Charters Towers to see the gold mines .
During WW11 Kenneth Slessor was appointed Australian Commonwealth War Correspondent ; he was not impressed by Winston Churchill , assorted British military wallahs , the Australian Army chief ,General Blamey , and the Australian Director-General of Information, Edmund Bonney , whose bookplate, from the Little Darwin kitbag of ephemera, appears left
Also in the kitbag is a bundle of WW 11 movie programmes for cinemas attended by Australian troops in Palestine , Blamey allegedly receiving a substantial kickback from the proprietors , explained in detail to Slessor by the renowned war correspondent , Chester Wilmot ,author of The Struggle for Europe [See P235 of Geoffrey Dutton’s biography, Kenneth Slessor ,Viking, 1991.] At one stage a scrapbook of Slessor poems illustrated by Virgil Reilly , from Smith’s Weekly ,edited by Slessor, came my way. Virgil, a hunchback, drew attractive girls , often in slinky poses , and the series was later turned into a book, Darlinghurst Nights ( see below ) and Backless Betty of Bondi.
Diverse items of interest related to The Triad , a magazine in which Slessor was published when he was a teenager, were found in bookshops in Kiwiland and Melbourne and will feature in a special Little Darwin article about the magazine .
MAD ABOUT BOOKS
Slessor was a bibliophile and amassed a large and impressive collection. His aforementioned comrade, Alexander Macdonald , wrote that Slessor ‘s love of books was such that he would stroke and fondle them, as if they were fine, fragile art treasures. [Which they are.] So in the Townsville University is a book , undoubtedly others , which have been caressed by the esteemed Australian bard; other volumes by Max Dunn in the collection include a limited edition presentation copy to Slessor .
In a dining room which sported many tall bookcases, Kenneth Slessor entertained a select group of friends . The Kiwi poet and editor of the Sydney Bulletin’s Red Page for 20 years, Douglas Stewart , wrote A MAN OF SYDNEY An appreciation of Kenneth Slessor , Nelson, 1977 , and covered those grand dinner parties. Invited guests included author Cyril Pearl, Alexander Macdonald , author Kylie Tennant and a Scottish-Australian poet named Alan Riddell - "sometimes accompanied by a most voluptuous young girlfriend , who seemed to have seven or eight legs like an octopus ,sinuously emerging from her mini-skirt." [Imagine the impact on the blood pressure -male and female - of those assembled .]
I have an appointment to see a sporting Irish doctor about my blood pressure and other matters... hope he does not declare the James Cook Library and its Special Collections out of bounds . - (Peter Simon)
