The Day A Lib Pollie Drank Our Scotch
Sydney Morning Herald
Thursday March 23, 2000
How a father gave lessons in politics and Labor ideals.
MY WIFE Deb is fond of saying that you inherit your politics, religion and football team from your dad. Growing up in Whyalla, the son of a steelworker, you're always going to be Labor, and for our family Gough Whitlam was Labor. People talk today in hushed tones about Gough and well they might. He has been one of the most important and influential Australian political leaders.
Partisanship is not boring or old politics. And it never should be seen as such by those who report politics. It is the essence of politics even today, especially today. And should you think I'm just being nostalgic, let me show you what real nostalgia is.
My early introduction to campaigning was in the 1974 Federal election campaign, in my home electorate of Grey. The Liberals had two candidates in Grey, a Liberal Movement and a Liberal Country League candidate.
One day, one of them came knocking on our door. Dad let him in. I went into a complete tailspin. I could not believe that dad had let a Liberal politician into our house. What would Gough think? Dad sat the Lib down, and talked to him for a full 20 minutes before coming into my bedroom to bring me out to shake the hand of this fine man.
I was turning mental cartwheels of anger, annoyance and frustration. It got worse. Dad actually offered him a drink. My father is a Yorkshireman Yorkshiremen do not give away alcohol. But that day there was a Liberal Party candidate in our home sharing a scotch with my dad. I was making my plans to run away from home when the conversation ended, and the Lib was on his way.
Out the front, the Liberal candidate said, ``If there is anything I can do for you, just let me know." Dad said, ``Well, there is," and proceeded to explain a problem with our Housing Commission home: ``When it rains, water comes down the roof, hits the gutter, spills over it and forms a puddle on the path. If you step off the veranda you get your feet wet."
The decoded message is that my father was always too lazy to clean out the gutters, but the Liberal candidate was a very tall man, and he reached up and pulled out a handful of leaves. ``There's your problem," he said. Dad looked on, amazed. ``Well, I'd like to climb up there and clean that out," he said, ``but with my back ..."
``No worries," said the candidate reaching up again and in no time he'd cleaned the gutter out completely. That done, he shook Dad's hand and headed off up the street.
I turned to my father and asked him with all the self-control I could muster, how he could invite this Liberal into our home, and make friends with him. My dad looked at me and said, ``He's just wasted an hour with us, he's got alcohol on his breath and muck running down his sleeve. How many votes do you think he'll win today?"
In 1966, after Harold Holt won the Federal election, my father said to me: ``The difference between Labor and Liberal is whatever little bit there is left over, Labor will give it to the workers. The Liberal Party will give it to the bosses and that's why I am Labor."
I might have heard it put more loftily in my time, but I've never heard it put more clearly. Those words have been a powerful influence on my life. They meant everything to me. They still do, and always will. That's not so fashionable any more when we are told that pragmatism rules, that there is no difference between the two parties. But it has always been good enough for me, and it is why, although I am leaving this job, I'll never leave the cause.
© 2000 Sydney Morning Herald
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