Granville South High School, Year 12, 1976
By Geoff Ellis
WE DIDN’T all dream of winning a grand final but we all had dreams. Almost 50 years ago our form at Granville South High School graduated into the adult world. Now is the time to contrive a gathering. A simple virtual roll call or a boots `n` all reunion? Something in between.
Decisions. Dare to face the mirror and attend in person? Sure, there’s the minor risk of awkward small talk or trying to remember a name. We can break the ice and tick off the basics with pre-emptive social media or WhatsApp posts. Marital status, family, are you an orphan? A lot of that gets sorted by the googling and the intros.
WE DIDN’T all dream of winning a grand final but we all had dreams. Almost 50 years ago our form at Granville South High School graduated into the adult world. Now is the time to contrive a gathering. A simple virtual roll call or a boots `n` all reunion? Something in between.
Decisions. Dare to face the mirror and attend in person? Sure, there’s the minor risk of awkward small talk or trying to remember a name. We can break the ice and tick off the basics with pre-emptive social media or WhatsApp posts. Marital status, family, are you an orphan? A lot of that gets sorted by the googling and the intros.
We grew up surrounded by factories and railyards, mostly raised by union members. Resisting the urge to get a job at age 15 raised parental expectations that a “good job” – i.e. in an office – awaited us. Many sat the public service exam or applied for teachers college. The CES (Commonwealth Employment Service) directed us to management roles. I even did an interview as an entry level clerk with some new mob called BANKCARD.
Double J had just started so we had folk like Holga Brockman opening our hearts and minds. Life wasn’t to be lived on a monopoly board. I remember the first time I heard Walk on the Wild Side on my car stereo.
Last month I spent a few days in Sydney with two school mates I hadn’t seen for decades. One smile blew away all those fears. We were there for each other. Across the years, that was what mattered. Of course we spoke about them good ole days, but in the context of who we are today.
Double J had just started so we had folk like Holga Brockman opening our hearts and minds. Life wasn’t to be lived on a monopoly board. I remember the first time I heard Walk on the Wild Side on my car stereo.
Last month I spent a few days in Sydney with two school mates I hadn’t seen for decades. One smile blew away all those fears. We were there for each other. Across the years, that was what mattered. Of course we spoke about them good ole days, but in the context of who we are today.
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Vote Labor was the rule where I grew up. Too young to cast a ballot, a few got into trouble for wearing pro-Gough badges in `75. One of my good friends supported Fraser and defended Kerr. That was the end of that friendship. Eventually we hated each other after we shared a flat in `77.
Am I still maintaining The Rage? Comrade, the first thing we did in Sydney last month was tour the Whitlam Institute to get new ITS TIME fridge magnets. In 2025 it could have been a different planet. Homeless encampments in the park, robot waiters, driverless trains, malls full of kamikaze uber eats riders. Our old cinema was still there, now dwarfed by glass towers, surrounded by a vast Metro construction zone. We had much to be proud of as we shared delights and sorrows across a few days of sightseeing. Rivercats and Manly ferries. The Opera House of course. Seniors’ cards and reading glasses. We bid farewell on the promise to stay in touch. |
“Beefy’s AKA The Big Chief Diner was my weekend Mecca. Sunday nights were best. After old sump oil was ceremoniously spilled onto the concrete driveway we could fishtail out onto the main road, toss a U-ie then skid back in through the gathering throng. Some people pashed in the quieter corners of the parking lot. Eventually all four lanes of the highway would be slippery as heck with innocent ca skidding all over the place till the cops came to slap defect notices on anything standing still. The rest of us were already at the illegal drag strip, Brickies.” Anonymous Facebook post |
Now preparation is under way for the big get together next year. Started with a call out to the rest of the class. Lots of Facebook, messaging and chasing leads as we rediscover each other. Some are invisible and some are gone. Mortality comes as a shock though it should not be surprising given the passing of the years. Just always thought we’d catch up some time.
Our sixth form clique of nine has lost two and we can’t find three more. We had the #5 bus in common but there was so much more to us. These were my closest friends for six years.
In the class photo I’m standing next to Allan Booth. We were close. We were both hopeless on the footy field. I last ran into him in a second-hand bookshop around 1978 or `79. He’d dropped out of NIDA and was breaking into the Sydney art scene. As I started my 2025 google stalk I looked forward to catching up with him.
In the class photo I’m standing next to Allan Booth. We were close. We were both hopeless on the footy field. I last ran into him in a second-hand bookshop around 1978 or `79. He’d dropped out of NIDA and was breaking into the Sydney art scene. As I started my 2025 google stalk I looked forward to catching up with him.
Turns out he left us 34 summers ago. He was only 32. This was posted by Jeffrey Stewart on one of many online forums at the time:
“Following Allan’s death we held a retrospective of his work in 1991 in a show called ‘Word of Mouth’ where we showed his paintings, posters, costumes, video, cartoons and the paraphernalia of his life.
"Allan liked to say he had an overactive imagination and in one of his Dr Rhythm cartoons described himself as ‘Jung and foolish.’ His life though short was energetic, active, creative and colourful. He inspired, was greatly loved, occasionally maligned, somewhat difficult and in the last two years of his life maintained great courage, humour and strength in his fight against AIDS."
"Allan liked to say he had an overactive imagination and in one of his Dr Rhythm cartoons described himself as ‘Jung and foolish.’ His life though short was energetic, active, creative and colourful. He inspired, was greatly loved, occasionally maligned, somewhat difficult and in the last two years of his life maintained great courage, humour and strength in his fight against AIDS."
Me? I’m looking forward to looking back. Why wouldn’t we when we have so much to learn about ourselves.