Published: 17 Mar 2025

Kevin hesitates towards Neil’s question that referred to Peter Collins because the telling could be harmful on two accounts. Firstly Collins had become a facebook friend and from a mutual school friend Kevin learned Peter had been abused by an uncle when he was a lad. Even so what Kevin was about to disclose was personal but seeing he had already overstepped the thin line between general and personal one more account wouldn’t matter.

“I suppose I can relate the event but let’s call him John Pearce. I don’t think it is right to use his actual name.”

“What did John Pearce do?”

“For the tape I’ll use his name but if you use the incident in your thesis I would appreciate not using it.”

“Agreed.”

It was one of those lazy Sunday afternoons between the lunch and dinner bell. As usual the boys were finding their own entertainment while ignoring their grumbling bellies, as if nothing else was apparent at the hostel feeling hungry was always present. Some would be out of bounds, a crime punished by the removal of the few privileges allowed, being a monthly picture night or the two shillings pocket money, twenty cents for those who have forgotten the old currency with permission to go up town to spend it. Also there was the tuck shop, although the removal of privilege would allow you to book anything necessary towards education but not the weakly packet of biscuits (cookies) or sweets.

Kevin’s favourite biscuit was the ginger nut brand and so hard he would soak them under running water before consuming the mush. In later life it was suggested that the biscuit allowance and lack of supervision during teeth cleaning was in part responsibility for so much tooth decay amongst hostel boys.

There was another oddity when it came to tuckshop privilege, occasionally Stan Linton the hostel manager would address those at dinner, reading out a boys name, an example, there will be no tuckshop for Gregory Stephenson, the cruel irony being Stephenson’s parents had not paid their account and it was Linton’s way of driving the message home using the lad’s embarrassment.

Stan was a large man from the old country with short curly blond hair on top of a round boyish face, he also had tendency to display an air of arrogance over the hostel boys. There was a time when he was in conversation with the dish washing boys after Saturday’s lunch, when his vanity became apparent. During the conversation Kevin happened to be passing, so he paused to enjoy the banter, although missing the gist of the conversation but it must have been on Stan’s strength over that of the boys.

“It would take more than you three to put a good Englishman down,” was spoken by Stan.

Then the boys did the unthinkable.

They sat Stan on the floor in a puddle of water.

The conversation continued.

Again Kevin missed the most of it.

“Why not it’s a free country Will Harrington suggested.

His compatriots agreed.

“Yes it is a free country,” Stan responded.

“It is a free country as long as you do what you are told,” Stan forcefully stated, “now get on with your work.”

Kevin moved away from the conversation but he never forgot the truth in Stan Linton’s words.

As for the incident with Peter Collins, for some reason now lost in the mist of time Kevin was in the dormitories, possibly simply taking a short cut from one side of the massive timber structure with its many extensions to the other. The dormitories were on a second floor above the kitchen and as Kevin passed preparation for the night’s meal came clearly through the squeaky linoleum covered floorboards.

Approaching the rear steps leading down to the ablutions block Kevin chanced upon Peter Collins with one of his mates.

“Barker what are you doing in the dorms during the day?” Collins demanded while blocking Kevin’s advance.

“Passing through what’s it to you?” the answer was more than enough to set Collins towards retaliation. Without further warning Collins took hold of Kevin rendering him passive by pinning his arms to his body while dragging him to the floor.

“You hold him down Ted,” Collins growls to his companion.

“Give me lip will you Barker?”

Kevin struggles but is well held, “I wasn’t doing anything,” he loudly protests.

“Doing nothing eh?”

Kevin is expecting the worse but instead of a thumping, Collins quickly pulls down Kevin’s shorts and begins to pump life into his member while his mate appears confused but silent.

“Cut it Peter!” Kevin growls, although he is enjoying the attention. Feeling the building pressure in his grip Collins laughs and releases his hold on Kevin’s appendage, “He’s had enough Collins suggests as both lads let him go and depart.

“You bastard Collins!” Kevin shrieks as he rearranges his clothing.

On reaching the first step Collins turns, “be that a lesson you little weed.”

Kevin and Collins’ path didn’t again cross until later that evening when extra study time was called. A number of boys had been caught out of bounds enjoying a hamburger at the Black Cat Café and to Kevin’s delight one of the lads happened to be Peter Collins. Although no one appreciated extra study, for once it brought a smile to Kevin realising Peter’s privileges would be removed for the forthcoming future.

“Do you think Peter Collins was gay?” Neil asks.

“I don’t believe so; I would more say he was sadistic.”

“Did you –; “Neil pauses and smiles while using the suggested pseudonym; “report John Pearce?”

“To be honest no, besides as I said I enjoyed the attention, except I would rather it happened in private, Peter was a handsome lad but dangerous. His nickname was Cranky as that was his normal disposition.”

“It appears your sexual aptitude was already established by sixteen.”

“Possibly, as I knew I didn’t fancy girls but truthfully it was the contact I desired as it was sadly missing from my earlier life. I don’t think any of us thought of shacking up with some fellow as a partner, or kissing.” Kevin laughs, “bum-jumping,” he says.

“What is, or was bum-jumping?”

“Buggery,”

“Was there much buggery?”

“I don’t believe there was, or at least I wasn’t into it. As far as I knew the most of what we got up to was mutual masturbation, although if I am honest I did try once with Will Harrington.”

“Why do you say you tried?”

“It was Will’s idea during one of our rare encounters and not long after the incident in the hostel’s vehicle. Will rolled onto his stomach with me poking away without success, I was so nervous I couldn’t raise a spit and his sphincter held firm against me. That was the last time we met in secrete, soon after Will was expelled, although for the remainder of the year he remained boarding at one of the town’s hotels.”

“You never forgot Will?”

“I suppose you never forget your first love, even if at that age most call it puppy love.”

“Changing the subject I am interested in your mother and how she coped with having to send you away to school.”

“She was a slight woman but strong who died young while giving up almost every luxury in life to get me to manhood. As for having to send me to the hostel, in retrospect I believe it greatly upset her although she never admitted.”

“Was she a happy woman?”

“That is difficult to relate as I was away most of the time and a week after my eighteenth birthday I departed Queensland for good. I believe she was happy with Bob in Atherton but that was before she had the operation for stomach ulcers. With Ivy it was difficult to distinguish mood as she kept her thoughts private.”

“Did you visit her often?”

“Regrettably no, I would say no more than five times from my departure until her demise, she did come to Melbourne on one occasion to visit her parents, by then grandad had passed away and grandma was being cared for by an uncle and his wife.”

“Was there any reasoning for not visiting her more often?”

“I would say social hedonism on my part.”

“What do you mean by social hedonism?”

“When I came back to Melbourne I found it difficult to make friends. For the first few years I made my own entertainment before discovering the gay scene and meeting Wayne then we shacked up and started to meet likeminded people. After that I became too involved in socialising, parties, gay dance nights to even think of home. Besides there was the tyranny of distance and two and a half thousand miles at air travel prices was a place too far.”

“Were there many parties?”

“Many? Every weekend there would be a party somewhere and open house. Often with a room full of guys there would be very few you actually knew.”

“Wouldn’t that be dangerous with gatecrashers?”

“Not really, on the occasion someone would have their wallet stolen or some knick-knack from a shelf but most of us had little to steal, not like these days if you have a party it is necessary to advise the police and have a bouncer or two.”

“Tell me a little more about your mother.”

Ivy was a quiet woman who loved reading and grew up during a depression but fortunately for her family her father worked on the land so there was always enough food for six children. Ivy had four brothers, two born in England and a sister born soon after they immigrated in twenty-three. Ivy arrived two years later. In her early years she was teased at school and called the Pommy-cow, possibly that could have been one of the reasons why she became pensive of mood while preferring her own company.

During the war years Ivy joined the Land Army becoming a farm worker. With the war over she met Kevin’s father Henry, a returned solder who had been a prisoner of war in Germany being taken captive on the island of Crete. Henry had been married previously but his first wife divorced him in forty-seven for drunkenness, mental cruelty and desertion. Obviously Ivy didn’t notice such qualities in Henry but they were there and soon after the birth of Kevin he became unsettled.

By the time Henry’s character became apparent they were living with Ivy’s parents when it was realised the marriage wasn’t going to work. One reason Henry could be violent when intoxicated and it was said that during an evening while Ivy was at work, Henry returned home drunk in a foul mood and commenced to take his displeasure out on their baby Kevin. It was also said he took Kevin from his cot and threatened to throw him across the room when Kevin’s grandmother collected a large kitchen knife and chassed Henry from the house. Henry never returned. Kevin only heard of this story after returning to Melbourne and living his grandparents in Sixty-six.

During Kevin’s minority, Ivy never collected the weekly five shillings child endowment the government offered, nor did she register to vote, which in Australia is compulsory. Ivy’s reasoning may have been to place as much distance between her and Henry as was possible and by not registering he would have difficulty in finding her through the electoral roles held at most post offices and open for anyone to peruse. During the fifties the father had right over his children and it was rare for the mother to be given custody, even if the father was incapable of giving proper care. In such a case it was more that likely for the child to become a ward of the state, as a single mother would have difficulty finding work.

Marrying Henry had been Ivy’s first mistake as she had been warned against him. They met while Ivy was visiting the home of her eldest brother where Henry was also visiting. Ivy spotted Henry helping with an engine problem on the family car and made comment about his appearance. It happened Henry was stepping out, as was the terminology back then, with a sister of her brother’s wife.

Do you like him was questioned.

Yes was admitted.

Then you can have him.

That should have been warning enough.

Soon after Ivy with Henry went hop picking near Leeton in New South Wales where they had a whirlwind romance and married four months after Henry’s first wife divorced him for drunkenness and mental cruelty in forty-seven. Eleven months later Kevin turned up proving theirs wasn’t a shotgun wedding.

It took all of four years for Ivy to realise she had married a dud and needed to be away from Henry. After meeting a friend of a friend Taffy Jones a Welsh merchant sailor who jumped ship in Melbourne, Ivy ignored further warning signs and with Taffy she headed for Queensland where both found work on a sheep station near Hughenden.

Mistake number two; it soon became obvious Taffy was in many aspects worse than Henry, so after moving to Torrens Creek, buying an old truck and starting a carrying business, it became obvious that Taffy drank anything they earned also he was showing signs of a violent nature.

Again bags were packed and for a short time they stayed with her sister in Hughenden before Ivy found employment at the Mareeba Railway Hotel on the Atherton Tablelands. As it was difficult for a single mother to work while caring for a child, at the age of six Kevin was placed in board at the Methodist Hostel in Herberton.

Ivy possessed an unconventional character for her time preferring the company of men over that of women with an aversion towards gossip. The fifties was a time when women would sit quietly in the hotel’s lady’s lounge, sipping shandy (beer with lemonade) supplied by their menfolk from the bar, instead Ivy would be found with the men drinking beer or scotch but don’t think for a moment she was a drinker as hotel visits, especially while working away from towns, were rare and never excessive. Another curious trait about Ivy was how she was accepted by the men as equal. In modern thinking it could be said her persona was androgenous lacking in the slightest suggestion of sexual posturing, even so her slight frame and manner was feminine.

Ivy did have sexual desires but as Kevin was mostly away at school they never became apparent. There was on man in her life, Alex Lucas who was on the run from the Romanian Communists. Alex was a gold miner who had a claim somewhere in the hills behind Cooktown in North Queensland. Kevin’s first realization of Alex was when he came to visit at the hostel, taking Kevin for a day’s outing in his E-type Jaguar. Those days made Kevin the talk of the hostel, as Alex also came bearing food. There were other visits from Alex but as Ivy was away working and couldn’t get the time she seldom visited with him. Alex was friendly enough and treated the lad well but to be honest, with his thick Romanian accent Kevin never understood a word he said.

It was mid year fifty-nine when the hostel manager approached Kevin with news he would be leaving within the week and with Ivy would be returning to his grandparents in Melbourne. Freedom at last but before departing by train from Cairns there would be a week’s holiday with his mother and Alex, firstly in Kuranda where at that time Ivy worked as housemaid at the town’s hotel, then a few days in Cairns before catching the Sunlander train service for the long journey south to Melbourne.

The only memory Kevin had of his time in Kuranda was when Alex hired a rowing boat and took him and Ivy for a ride in the pool above the Barron Falls. All Kevin could think was his fear of going over the falls as they were mighty tall and wild.

They obviously survived.

The next recollection was at the Criterion Hotel in cairns. Kevin had gone for a walk returning to their room unexpectedly to find his mother and Alex in bed enjoying an amorous moment. Even now so many years later Kevin could picture the look of terror his mother had. Kevin quickly bolted from the room, not returning for at least an hour and when he returned Alex was gone and nothing was mentioned, even so his mother displayed an uncharacteristic nervousness. It could be believed that was the last time Ivy saw Alex.

What did Kevin think of seeing his mother enjoying Alex’s company? In truth it was shock at first but with Kevin’s accepting nature the act was soon forgotten although not his mother’s expression. Besides there was the excitement of the pending trip and the thought of being reunited with his grandmother to soften any scaring that may occur.

After a stay of two and a half years in Melbourne, a new school, or should it be said three new schools, it was once again time to return north. Ivy could not bare Melbourne’s weather and missed the tropics, possibly she was missing Alex. It was during a Saturday afternoon at the Westall address of his grandparents when Ivy approached Kevin with her intentions. Firstly there was general conversation then came the hammer blow. They would soon be returning to Queensland.

“Not the bloody hostel again.”

“No we will stay a while with your Aunty Mary in Hughenden.”

It would be another change of schools but by then Kevin was used to the constant changing although he did not realise there would be five changes of school in five school terms.

Returning to Hughenden was pleasing as he would be close to Torrens Creek and possible his horses but Kevin had suspicions his mother was more missing Alex than any wish to return to Queensland’s dusty central west. Within the month they were once again on the move from Melbourne. This time it would be a flight to Townsville and the train back to Hughenden. That happened to be the time when the engine broke down, leaving them stranded in the Dividing Range with three drunk stockmen for most of a day.

While living with her sister in Hughenden Ivy received sad news, Alex Lucas had been working during the down season at his mining claim on the building of the Kuranda road bridge and fell into shallow water. Alex survived for some days after his fall but had internal injuries and died of septicaemia. Ivy never spoke to Kevin about Alex’s death but her sadness was obvious and although some years later she did have a long term relationship with an Anglo-Malay man while living on the Atherton Tablelands, she never got over Alex Lucas. After Alex’s demise Ivy wished to contact his family in Romania but decided against doing so as the communist government of Nicolae Ceausescu’s had a warrant against him, as he was in opposition to the dictatorship and if she did contact, it was possible retribution may go against the family.

Most of Kevin’s memories of Ivy were about her laconic sense of humour and lack of touchy-feely attitude. Kevin could not recollect once being kissed by his mother and cuddles were rare. He remembers Ivy in the R.S.L. (returned soldiers etc) lounge in Mareeba and her conversation with a couple of male friends. Any man who rapes a woman should be castrated, she sternly declared. It was possible the men crossed their legs and shrunk from the thought but her view was accepted even if not agreed with. Ivy was always to the point, sometimes her truthfulness could appear hurtful but she would follow with a smile and a wink.

When I grow up I’m gonna’ be an artist, Kevin once declared.

It is going to be not gonna’ and yes a bullshit artist, was his mother’s reply. Also when Kevin declared he would grow to six foot from his five feet seven and a half – five feet nine in his Cuban heeled riding boots, Ivy’s answer was in your dreams. Dreaming was more than correct as Ivy was but five feet something and later in life on receiving his father’s war records he discovered Henry’s height being five feet seven and a half inches. Kevin had reached what nature had designed for him.

There was another trait with Ivy’s character that being she had no concern towards what others may think of her. In the fifties it was considered kosher for a white man to be with a coloured woman but never the reverse. Ivy had met and partnered Bob Ferguson a Malay man with white ancestry when an English rubber plantation owner bedded down with one of the Malaysian locals, their progeny a girl married a white Australian therefore lightening Bob’s skin to a good suntan. Even so as it was Ivy no one appeared to question her choice, or at least they didn’t in public. Did her son accept Bob Ferguson as his mother’s choice? In retrospect Kevin never gave it thought, besides for a short while they were family living on the land and later he worked for Bob when he opened a shop in Atherton.

Gary’s stories are about life for gay men in Australia’s past and present. Your emails to him are the only payment he receives. Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Conder 333 at Hotmail dot Com

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