1969 was a VERY big year!

1969 it was a very big year for change. A lot happened in 1969 - not all of it good.

It was the year that Richard Milhous Nixon was first elected President of the United States of America, the year of the last ever public performance by The Beatles, on top of Apple Records, the year of the first flight of the Boeing 747, the Jumbo jet that would revolutionise air travel, Judy Garland died from an accidental drug overdose, Prince Charles was invested as Prince of Wales, Apollo 11 was launched and the lunar module Eagle landed on the lunar surface, Charles Manson and members of his cult murdered a pregnant Sharon Tate, the Woodstock Festival was held in upstate New York, The Brady Bunch premiered on American television, Sesame Street started, the first GAP store opened. It was a busy year.

Two other events were reported for 1969, events that have changed the life of every gay man and woman.

1969 is reported as being the first year that the HIV virus was documented as migrating to the USA from Haiti.

1969 was also the year of the Stonewall Riots in New York.

These two events would continue to colour our lives for the next four decades and probably for many more to come.

In Greenwich Village on Christopher St. there was a small, rather seedy bar run by the Genovese Mafia Family. It served watered down drinks, paid off the police and was frequented by transvestites, lesbians, gay men and homeless kids. On the night of June 28 the New York Police raided the club. This type of event was reasonably common in the 50s and 60s but for some reason on this particular night, people had decided that they had had enough and refused to go quietly.

No one is really sure who was first to say “Not this time”, was it a butch dyke dressed as a man or a transvestite who first resisted arrest and started to rally the crowd?

It started with the throwing of coins, a symbol of the graft that the Mafia were paying the police, (gayola) and quickly escalated to bottles, rocks and anything handy being hurled at the law. The normally meek ‘fags’ decided that now was the time for ‘Gay Power’.

Word spread through the Village and across the city; hundreds of gay men, lesbians and other minority groups converged on Christopher St. to join the protest.

The Police were woefully outnumbered and had to use the pay phone inside Stonewall to call for reinforcements. Bolstered by the Tactical Patrol Force, (TPF), riot police specially trained to deal with anti Vietnam War protesters, New York’s finest tried to regain control of the streets but every time the protesters were dispersed they would reform and challenge the TPF by forming a ‘kick line’, like a crowd of angry Rockettes, singing and mocking the police. This was a different style of protest, a protest never seen before but soon to become familiar throughout the world. A protest with panache, that would one day become the mainstay of Gay Pride marches throughout the world, proving that you could get your message across and achieve change with wit and humour.

For the next five nights the crowds, in varying numbers, would regather to hammer home the message, “We’re here, we’re queer, get used to it.”

In July, the week after the riots, a new organisation was born in New York, the ‘Gay Liberation Front’, (GLF), whose sole purpose was to promote equality and force change on an unwilling government. During the next year lesbians and gay men, through out the world formed their own version of the GLF and took their fight to their streets.


In Australia as news of the riots filtered through, Sydney’s first political group, ‘Campaign Against Moral Persecution’, (CAMP), was formed in 1970. The first national Gay Pride march happened on 15 September 1973, with 18 arrests. In 1975 Rod Stringer with Bill McElvie launched ‘Campaign’ a national gay men’s magazine. On the night of Saturday, 24 June, 1978 the first major protest rally to demand equal rights for homosexuals was held in Sydney and from that march the ‘Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras’ was born.

Meanwhile, back in 1969 that little known virus that had migrated from Haiti to America was marshalling its own troops and by the 80’s was ready to mount its own attack on an unsuspecting populace.

1969 was for a lot of reasons a very BIG year.

From Motown to Tehran - Before Breakfast

Here is where I started: I woke this morning checked my laptop for emails and logged on to my Facebook account and ended up asking...

How did you hear about The Princess of Wales’s death? Did you read about it in newspapers, hear it on the radio or perhaps you watched the reports on television as the events unfolded. It was a story that was slowly played out through the media as the world’s journalists gathered information and wrote their pieces.

How did you hear about Michael Jackson’s death? Chances are it was either on Facebook or Twitter. The message was spread virally. Rumour was written as fact before it was confirmed by either the doctors or the family. People all over the world knew that Michael Jackson was dead before his body was cold.

Who controls the information that we are fed, on a minute by minute basis? It seems like just yesterday it was Rupert Murdoch and Kerry Packer but now more often that not it is the new breed of ‘citizen’ journalist, the blogger and the man or woman with the mobile phone or camcorder who is on the spot as things happen. There is no censoring or verification of most of this news unless the story is later taken up by one of the ‘old media’ organisations. Yet we believe it and take it as gospel.

Factual reporting is a dying art form. Opinion pieces, like this one, are the new way of disseminating news. The Internet gives people who live in countries less liberal than ours the ability to create change. It is no wonder that all through the world governments both elected and non-elected are nervously trying to limit the amount of damage that this freedom can cause by creating new laws to enforce censorship.

From pondering I started to wander and then went in this direction…

Censorship has always been an issue that arouses strong feelings on both sides of the debate. Does anyone have a right to restrict anyone else’s ability to access information? If we lived in a perfect world, which clearly we don’t, then there would be no need for any form of censorship. Fairness and equality for all would be one of the underpinning bulwarks of our Utopia. However people being people this is not how our ‘real’ world works. We live in a world filled with deception and manipulation with self interest and selfishness. So somewhere, someone decided that we could not be trusted to monitor our own reading, viewing or web surfing activities; but the world has changed. The old argument of “if you don’t like it turn it off” has lost some of its power. Today it is almost impossible to turn off information. Information is the constant white noise that continuously wraps us in its warm embrace.

People and more importantly governments are scared. They are scared because they are losing control and the more they tighten their noose of censorship the more people are demanding their right to freedom of thought.

In Iran the message of revolution is being carried to the populace and the outside world by the Internet, mainly Twitter, as the Government tries to control every other foreign news source. Images of a beautiful young girl lying, dying, in the street from an assassin's bullet are carried on to Youtube. Her eyes stare at the camera as her blood stains the road as her life force leaves her.

Similarly in China the ruling elite censor and distort reports from inside Tibet or indeed any of their ‘spheres of interest’ throughout the country. Computers are now being sold with inbuilt filters to block sites that the Chinese describe as ‘unsuitable’. China is now trying to construct 'The Great Fire-Wall' to keep their population 'safe'. They have asked, (demanded) that new software should be designed by Hewlett Packard, Dell and even Apple to allow each keystroke entered on your computer to be tracked. This would allow the Central Government to effectively control exactly which computer user is accessing what sites and then take ‘appropriate’ action.

The Australian Labor Party is proposing to expand an already existing censorship system that allows the government of the day to block sites that it considers to be unsuitable, or worse sites that are not in line with the ‘public morality’. 'The Black List'. The examples used to justify such a move are always sites that promote, propagate or groom young children for sex or sites that associate violence and sex. Of course there is a case to be made for censoring web sites that seek to exploit young children for sexual gratification but who will be setting the limits, who will decide what is acceptable? We all remember what happened to Bill Henson’s photographs.

Senator Conroy the Labor Senator in charge of the implementation of the filter says that there will be an ‘opt out’ option, so you can contact your provider and advise them that you would like to have the filters lifted from your computer, with the exception of ‘kiddie porn’ and ‘R-rated’ sites.

The three major ISP’s in Australia all claim that the proposed system is unworkable and will slow Internet access down by as much as 80%. However as technology improves and the Chinese Government’s demands for greater control over its citizenry increase, then surely Prime Minister Rudd’s ideal moral, Christian, right society is only a mouse click away.

Now at the end I am here; worried about freedom, gossip disguised as news and the Nanny Rudd state we are all about to live in. Who would have thought that the death of Michael Jackson would cause me so much concern?

World War Bob

It’s winter in The Blue Mountains, it’s cold but if you look carefully near the first of The Three Sisters you can make out the silhouette of a lonely bugler as he raises his horn to his lips to send out the clarion call. The Empire is in need. All fit soldiers of the Queen are being asked to do their bit and Private Bob has never been one to shirk ‘doing his bits.’ Like a good Christian soldier he’s marching off to war, with a song in his heart and a can of Ultra Clutch hairspray in his knapsack, our Prince of Polyester, Private Bob Downe with his favourite femme fatale, Ms. Jane Markey, are off to entertain and amuse our boys overseas, giving new meaning to the term, ‘camp show.’

A quick digression: in Sydney there once was a club that was a restaurant that was a bar that was a theatre that once was a funeral parlour and it was wonderful. It was called Kinselas and it functioned as the unofficial Green Room for Sydney. This is where I first saw Mr. Trevorrow and Ms. Markey when they were performing as ‘The Globos’, the year was 1982; I have patiently waited twenty five years to see Ms. Markey, live, on stage again.

Ms. Markey is one of the great comic talents of Australia and it was mostly for her that I travelled the two hours to the Mountains. Did she disappoint – no siree Bob she did not. With a crooked smile and a knowing glance at the audience Ms. Markey had me – in fact she had me at Hello. As ‘Ida Downe’, she led us in a sing-a-long, that from now on every good show must have, just think how much more enjoyable ‘Sweeney Todd’ would be with a little audience participation.

What can one say that hasn’t already been said better by others about Bob Downe? He has the comic genius and timing of Humphries, he has the wit of Kennedy, (Graham not JFK), and the classic good looks of Barry Crocker… with better hair. If John Waters, (Hairspray), had been born in Australia then Bob Downe would have been his muse.

To dismiss Bob Downe as merely a spoof of every bad club performer you’ve ever seen is to miss the point. Bob is an over the top tribute to a time and era when things were simpler, when a holiday away was a trip in a caravan with Mum, Dad and Aunty Merle, or when ‘el dente’ was an Italian comic appearing, third on the bill, at the Murwillumbah RSL. Bob is to entertainment what Bakelite is to radio.

From the Crimea to Iraq in 75 minutes the publicity blurb said and it didn’t lie. No war is too small for this band of military minstrels. Armed only with an Oral B toothbrush and his very own special WMD’s, (Words of Musical Distraction), Private Bob and chanteuse Markey embark on an epic journey through the music of the wars. Pro war – anti war you name it they sing it and boy do they sing it well. It’s exhausting; from the sexually charged ‘Dance of the Seven Veils’, performed with great subtlety by Ms. Markey, to the soulful ‘Lilli Marlene’, sung by the very sweet Jeremy Hopkins, World War Bob is a hoot. An old fashioned cabaret/revue that’s proud of its roots.

This is the out of town tryout before WWB hits the big smoke of Adelaide. Sure there were problems; lighting cues that didn’t work and a microphone on the fritz but Mr. Trevorrow’s incredible professionalism and determination kept us laughing until the very last minute.

Conceived, written and directed by Mark Trevorrow, with Bill Harding, musical arrangements by John Thorn and choreography by Jack Webster. WWB is indeed the campest of camp shows.

‘World War Bob’ will be playing in Adelaide at The Playhouse, June 17 through June 20.

In Memoriam - 'Our Dan'

Danny La Rue passed away on Sunday after a short battle with Prostate Cancer. Born: Daniel Patrick Carroll in 1927 in County Cork, Ireland, his father was a soldier in the IRA who also worked as a cabinet maker. After the death of his father, when Danny was 18 months old, he and his mother moved to Soho, in London. As he famously said when doing a show in Cork, “I left in shorts and came back in a frock.”

Danny was a successful club owner, cabaret performer, TV and movie actor who became one of the highest paid and most popular performers in the UK during the 1970’s. His career spanned 60 years. He made a fortune and he lost a fortune but the one thing he never lost was the love and respect of his audience. Danny was frequent and always popular visitor to Australia, accompanied most times by his pianist, Wayne King, a name that always got a laugh from the audience.

Danny who preferred to be known as a ‘comic in a frock’ considered himself an actor rather than ‘just a drag queen.’ La Rue was the first man to play ‘Dolly Levi’ in ‘Hello Dolly’ and the first female impersonator to perform in drag before the Queen during a Royal Variety Performance.

Danny got his stage name indirectly from his friend Harry Secombe, (The Goon Show). After seeing him perform Secombe advised Danny not to give up his day job, a few months later Danny was to perform at a theatre in London and not wanting Secombe to know, he decided to call himself Danny Street but the name was already taken; so Danny La Rue was born.

As La Rue’s fame grew he opened his own nightclub in Mayfair in the 1960’s and of course it was a hit, attracting the A-List at the time: The Snowden’s, Barbara Windsor, and Shirley Bassey to name just a few.

When Danny’s long time partner and manager, Jack Hanson died in 1984, Danny sank into a deep depression and drank heavily for almost a year, finally snapping out of it and getting back on the stage when it looked as if he was about to lose everything.

Danny died in Kent, aged 81, at the home he shared with his dress fitter of 30 years, Annie Galbraith, who had taken him in when he was once again in financial strife.