Published: 7 Apr 2025

A clicking sound brings the story telling to pause.

Kevin takes a shallow breath – “umm.”

“Time to change the tape,” Neil explains while reaching into his carryall for a replacement.

“That is another reason why you should go digital,” Kevin suggests.

“What would that be?”

“You would have hours of uninterrupted recording.”

“True but I like the nuff-nuff technology.”

“What do you mean by nuff-nuff?”

“It means unskilled in modern technology.”

Neil changes the tape.

“Well,” Neil says.

“Well,” Kevin repeats and laughs.

“Although it is a little left of field, what is your type?” Neil asks.

“Your meaning?”

“Do you like muscle men, blue eyes, tall, short, young, old that sort of thing?”

“Wayne says if a fellow had an ear missing I would chase after him. If I had a type I would say tactile.”

“Therefore you like rough?”

“To look at maybe, I don’t actually like the clean cut look; I like a man to have a certain difference.”

“That doesn’t tell me much.”

“What I mean is it may be as simple as a glance, a cheeky grin or the way he wears his shirt, the form of his lips, a slight unconscious movement. I don’t actually have a type or an age but I must admit I do like ginger heads.”

“Is there any reason for liking ginger?”

“Possibly it is because of Will Harrington during my last year at the hostel.”

“Yes I do remember your mentioning of Will Harrington; he must have left a lasting impression on you.”

“First love I suppose; what about you Neil, you mentioned you are in a relationship, what are your preferences?”

Neil laughs; “in most I would say malleable.”

“That could be considered somewhat chauvinistic Neil.”

“Could be, or more in truth as I don’t have a great deal of time for socialising because of my studies, I don’t wish to waste my limited downtime by dancing about someone’s emotions.”

“Are you in love?”

Neil frowns.

“I am being invasive, sorry,” Kevin apologises.

“No, if anyone is invasive it has been me. You have set me to thinking as I’ve been too busy to represent my feelings to such a degree. I would say contented for the moment but should add I’m too young and unsettled for anything more.”

The telephone sounds bringing the conversation to pause.

Neil instinctively stops the recording, “landline,” he says in a surprised tone.

“I do have a mobile (cell phone) although it is switched off not to interrupt the session. We kept the phone as the service covers the landline, computer and mobile without extra charge, besides there are interstaters who only have the landline number.

Kevin is gone for some time and could be heard agreeing with the caller, eventually he returns, “Wayne,” he simply says.

“Does he know about our interview?”

“He does.”

“Does he agree with me doing the interview?”

“He said he wouldn’t but it’s up to me.”

“How long have you been together?”

Kevin laughs; “since the dawn of time, or sometimes it appears that way. Except for my short indiscretion it has been fifty-three years.”

“Yet no ring on your finger?”

“I don’t believe in same sex marriage although I voted for it in the plebiscite.”

“Why did you vote for it if you don’t believe?”

“It isn’t my place to tell others what they can do. I believe marriage is only to protect kids and give them legality, a starting point on which to base their existence. Or should I say that was once the way of things, as most of the straight couples I know aren’t married. It may come to pass only same sex couples marry.”

“I realise love as a word is often misrepresented but are you in love with Wayne?”

Kevin takes a deep breath and is slow with his reply, “I would say we are a couple of fellows who can’t make up our minds what to do with our situation and simply continue with the flow, or more to fact this late in the proceedings it has become too difficult to change the status-quo. I guess in a weird way it works. As for your question if I am in love with Wayne, I can’t rightly say. I think the emotion has metamorposed into something indefinable but I will admit to one thing that being during the late seventies or early eighties there was a nuclear war threat, all I could think about at the time was if it happened, I would have to be with Wayne. Possibly that displayed love.”

“Tell me a little more about Ivy?”

“Mum.”

“Yes I’m interested in how she had the strength to bring up a child during times with little social benefits. From what I understand being a single mother was not well accepted.”

It was a time when a woman was still considered to belong to her husband and the children his, even as far as a woman couldn’t get a bank loan without a man agreeing guarantee and married women weren’t appreciated in the Public Service being asked to resign after they married. If there was a breakdown in the marriage then usually the woman would walk away with little more than the clothes on her back, sometimes never again seeing her children. Therefore if a woman was in a violent relationship it was preferable to endure and find ways to accept her husband’s maltreatment, rather than endure the consequences.

Ivy’s marriage fell apart when Kevin was no more than three years of age. Soon after marrying Henry Barker there was trouble, then a year later with the birth of Kevin while living with Ivy’s parents, Henry’s drinking worsened and his mood became more violent. Some blamed the war and the years he spent as a prisoner in Germany after being captured on Crete but by most accounts Henry was always a cocky bugger with too much attitude. Later in life Kevin learned from an uncle on Ivy’s side of the family, they almost came to fists while travelling home by train from a football game in Geelong, even so the odd thing with Henry was the family knew little about him. Also Kevin learned from his half sister of a letter that had arrived from a woman in England who gave birth to a son and was looking for Henry, as he promised to marry her. The letter had been the catalyst for his first wife divorcing Henry.

After departing for Queensland and during her short time with Taffy Jones, Ivy retained the family name of Barker, being Mrs. Ivy Barker, rather than returning to her maiden name. Doing so was to give continuity with Kevin, besides she still wore her wedding ring and if asked she would declare her husband had died of complications from a war wound , being preferred to have Henry dead rather than give the impression she was separated, divorced or the stigma of being an unmarried mother. Besides as her maiden name was Smith there would be disbelief, as Smith or Jones were often pseudonyms giving by shady characters attempting to hide their true identity.

The reason why Ivy didn’t divorce Henry was never spoken, two reasons may be given. Possibly the first and the strongest being she didn’t wish to have her location known, the other being divorce threw shadow over the woman and not the man, therefore it was better Henry remained demised.

If there was a word that could describe Ivy it would have to be tenacity and from the start she was going to keep Kevin even if doing so was detrimental to her wellbeing, having to take live-in work to afford to keep Kevin at school.

At first while working as cook on Dunluce Station near Hughenden she had Taffy Jones, with Taffy the station’s handyman. Fortunately the Manager was childless and kindly accepted Kevin, even when Kevin displayed a mischievous character as any five year old would and with the kid Jones from the neighbouring property got up to all kinds of mischief. When Ivy and Taffy took a house in Torrens Creek, Mr. Lewis the manager gave Kevin his horse Roany as well as the foal Kicker, later Taffy added to the collection with a skewbald Kevin named Patchy. Taffy’s reason for purchasing the third horse was a mystery as he was never one for riding and while on Dunluce only did so out of necessity with his riding skill becoming the source of much humour.

For a short time Kevin and Ivy with Taffy played at happy families with Kevin attending the one room one teacher Torrens Creek School. He was happy there with his horses but Ivy wasn’t contented, Taffy now in town and way from the station’s isolation was drinking more and with the alcohol came the mood swings and bad temper. In the most his cruelty was mind games but eventually he began to show a violent side. That is when Ivy packed what little they owned and departed to stay with her sister in Hughenden.

It soon became obvious to Ivy she couldn’t remain in Hughenden, firstly her sister had five of her own and the house was small, also Taffy continued to come by demanding she return to him. At this stage the almost six year old Kevin was oblivious to what was intended being Ivy found work as housemaid at the Railway Hotel in Mareeba a town some five hundred miles away while arranging to board Kevin at the Methodist Hostel in Herberton. That decision would be the end of happy families and for the following four years she would only see Kevin during school holidays, even then he would mostly need to stay in Mareeba with Ivy’s friend Edith as Ivy couldn’t have him with here where she worked.

Once during a school holiday when Ivy worked as cleaner at the Mareeba Hospital she was given permission for Kevin to stay in her room at the hospital’s staff quarters and one other occasion during a short break while at the Railway Hotel the manager allowed likewise. School holidays in the most had Kevin staying with Edith and Ivy working during the day, so any mother and son reunion remained limited to after work or weekends.

Ivy Barker was blessed with many things from tenacity to humour although sometimes her humour appeared somewhat out of step with what one may call mainline. To give an example when lighting up a smoke she asked Kevin if he had ever seen a match burn twice. Kevin replied in the negative and Ivy placed the extinguished match head against his arm. It didn’t really hurt without even leaving a mark but the thought of a hot match head against his skin made the lad jump and complain. Immediately Ivy apologised leaving Kevin to consider the humour.

Ivy also hated gossip while finding the company of men preferable than that of women. She had a wide range of topics but kept away from the three no-no’s being sex, religion and politics. When Kevin enquired on her voting preference she simply told him to mind his own business. On the subject of religion she never had the lad christened being of the opinion, if Kevin wished for religion he could make up his own mind. Then came the subject of sex, from an early age Ivy would say that was also up to Kevin but don’t bring home any kid for her to look after, issued more as teasing rather than actual.

Ivy was pragmatic about most things in life realising she had limited control over Kevin therefore she could do little more than give suggestion towards other vices such as alcohol and smoking. As for smoking Ivy was a heavy smoker and simply explained its adverse affect on health. On the other hand she needn’t concern as Kevin wasn’t interested in either. Besides while at the hostel the chance of introduction was limited.

Some mothers are touchy-feely but in all Kevin’s time with Ivy he could not recall her once kissing him. Hugging was as rare therefore bonding between mother and son was limited. Even so there was a strong unspoken love that appeared to survive without the petting. Possibly Ivy’s lack of exuberance towards petting was nature or learned but whatever it had been Kevin grew up with equal nature.

Fortunately for Kevin his relationship with Wayne worked without being too clingy. It was equally possible Kevin’s disinterested towards eclectic was similar to Ivy, although when he did claim ownership often it was for life without the will to dispose of anything. Even now many years later he retained a pair of jeans purchased in San Francisco in seventy-eight, folded away in the bottom of his cupboard and in an uncomfortable way they still fitted.

Kevin didn’t have the bent for luxuries, in his earliest years it was country and horses. At the hostel it was play even when it should have been study and when time to depart the north to return to Melbourne, all he owned fitted into a small suitcase; not forgetting the five pound weight of Agates he had gleaned from the Gilbert Riverbed during his holidays on Forest Home Station. The rifle had long gone when Michael Robinson where he boarded in Atherton, talked Kevin into selling it to one of his school mates for twenty dollars (by then there was a currency change to dollars from L.S.D.). Kevin agreed with the sale but never saw the money. It was as well, if he had brought the rifle to Melbourne there may have been strife, as folk in the city were gun shy and at his age he would not have been issued a gun licence. Back in Queensland the authorities didn’t seem to concern over a simple twenty-two rifle, being common place even with children in cattle country and on farms.

Many years later when Kevin returned to Atherton for his mother’s funeral, he discovered all Ivy possessed would fit into a small cardboard box. Also beside her bed on an upturned wooden crate covered in floral material, was a framed photograph of him as a child and missing his two front teeth. Kevin recognised the fabric as the same that had covered a similar box used as a bedside table while she was working on the station.

Did the lack of possessions display destitution? Possibly not as Ivy had lived through the great depression when there was little to be had but fortunately her father worked on a city market garden putting fresh vegetables on the meal table although little else. The depression was followed by war and more restrictions so by the time Ivy married and was ready to start a family the need for possessions dissipated therefore the seed of make-do had been well germinated. Besides except for a vehicle, a house, food on the table there was little more to wish for, especially in the outback away from city influences but that was the way for most folk, it took another two decades for Australia to recover from a crippling war and its isolation from a quickly changing world.

In the fifties and leading into the sixties a working man would earn less than fifteen pound a week, thirty dollars in today’s money, a woman less but if housed and fed there weren’t the distractions today’s families have. No mobile telephones, television or laptops, no internet or dvd machines while a good film on Saturday night was entertainment enough, or the occasional dance night at the town hall. It was also a time when every house had a pack of cards, when on a Saturday night neighbours and friends would gather in the kitchen with a couple of long neck bottles of beer and in a haze of cigarette smoke would play to the early hours enjoying gossip and a good joke, sometime bawdy but always without the slightest inclination towards dispute.

If you were a doctor in the sixties there wasn’t caviar, his luxury would be a bigger house a smarter car and satisfaction in servicing the community, also he would make house calls. His wife would be smartly dressed while giving dinner parties, he in a suit and tie even in the tropical heat, while his patients wore off the rack from the general store.

Even so the sixties was a decade of change and it was the youth in the vanguard with their newly designed transistor radio and Beatlemania. The forties killing fields were fading while their fathers joined the RSL (returned soldiers etc; league) to sit about reminiscing the good times remembering mates lost to a senseless war as the sixties youth preached peace and attended peace marches and musical concerts, or made out on the back seat of the FJ Holden car. Possibly not as much in the forgotten north that remained stuck in a time warp but learning fast, especially Kevin’s mother although she remained with her upturned box wrapped in floral material holding the cute photograph of Kevin missing his front incisors.

In the late fifties wages increased and possibly for the first time in history the working class had disposable money also with the sixties came inflated consumerism. Fashion was changing and it was the generation titled baby boomers that lead the change. They had thrown away their hats, thus in future years developing melanoma but fashion as in its name comes and in an instant has gone. Waste became king, no longer hand-me-down, no longer fix it with a pair of pliers and length of wire, instead bin it and buy another, being the grave of the repair shops and Mr. Fixit.

There was another war, or so described Police Action. Possibly a war Australia should have avoided but we needed to appease our American allies, besides memory of Japan remained strong and the fear of the yellow hordes fresh in the minds of those who lived through the Second World War. Then from having a small ineffective army came conscription followed by anti war rallies.

Where was Kevin during the excitement? For the first of it he remained in the sleepy backwaters of the Atherton Tableland without concern for what was occurring in Viet Nam, or the marching on the streets of southern cities, spurred on by the multitude of vivid television reports on the six o’clock news, not forgetting television reception hadn’t yet reached the north of Queensland.

When you have to enlist I want you to join the navy.

That may have been his mother’s advice back in nineteen sixty-four but Kevin remained far from the mainstream of national fear and policy. He had turned seventeen and working for nothing but his keep for Ivy’s partner Bob Ferguson as a market gardener’s offsider. Not yet had he formulated his dread of working in a shop, not yet had he met Judy or even

Michael with his microscope but he did have Sooky the Kelpie dog. He did have the twenty-two rifle found while on the station and wasted shells on the flying fox bats that devoured the ripe bananas in the grove close by their farm house.

What of Ivy?

She remained quietly in Kevin’s background, working hard digging potatoes, straining her back picking beans before returning to the house at sunset to apply her lack of cooking skills. That was when Kevin gave up the digging and took on cooking. Mind you if Ivy’s cooking was bad, Kevin’s was much worse. Then during the evenings as the silk bag burned brightly in the kerosene pump lamp he drew his maps while listening to the radio news without understanding why the Viet-cong couldn’t be more like us.

At the end of farming with a new life in town as shopkeeper becoming a reality, where was Ivy? She remained with her upturned box wrapped in floral material and an old cardboard suitcase with the frayed leather strap, ready for her next adventure.

Not a lot has been said of Kevin’s time on the farm at East Barron but it would take many chapters to relate the six months spent trying to make a living out of the little the Italian owner offered. Firstly there was the house that had been the original dwelling to the previous owners the Hill family, who built a new house allowing the old house to fall into disrepair, even so the Italian farmer believed it serviceable for Bob to live in but in reality the Clampetts from the Beverly Hillbillies would have turned a nose at such living conditions.

When Bob arrived he found both front and back doors wide, one off its hinge but fixable and a cow had moved into the kitchen crapping everywhere, without mentioning the dead bird in the leaking water tank and possums in the ceiling. The house appeared reasonable externally but there were internal walls missing in some rooms and no electricity or running water. The toilet was a long drop up the back yard with venomous redback spiders. A box of matches and old newspaper were kept in readiness as before sitting it was wise to light the paper and run it under the rim of the seat. Spiders don’t like that.

For bathing, water needed to be brought up by bucket from the creek and boiled in a wood copper, using an old bathtub that had been a cattle watering trough. To make the tub presentable it took a number of tins of caustic soda and while soaking one of the farmer’s dumb cows drank from the tub. The cow surprisingly survived but it was wondered how the milk tasted, not that any was ever offered by farmer Natale, who appeared to only know one word in English that being hurry, or to be accurate three words, hurry-hurry-hurry.

Eventually the house became liveable – just.

It was obvious from the start the little adventure was heading for failure, even after bringing the living arrangements up to bearable. The next problem was the Italian farmer who ran cattle as well as growing things and his idea of mixed farming was everything in the one paddock. The worst of which being it was usually the paddock allotted to Bob. It was nothing to wake up in the morning to find the cattle enjoying a healthy breakfast of bean shoots, or stomping the potato crop back into the red Tableland earth.

After six months Bob finally had enough of being told to hurry and accepted a second selection near Rocky Creek situated the other side of Atherton towards Mareeba. Again Bob’s trusting attitude became his nemesis and the second farmer, although openly an enemy of Natale from the East Barron selection proved as bad, as was the acre of ground he offered. There was also a new expectation being the use of Kevin as free labour on his own crop, therefore much of the lad’s day was taken up irrigating, or walking the rows toting a large leaky container of insecticide on his back while pumping poison across the crop. What he was spraying was never explained but obviously he survived the ordeal.

It took another six months for Bob to permanently give up the idea of farming but by then he had the Atherton shop with Kevin his shopkeeper.

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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