MADAM DAZE.....(part 1).
'You won't find your true vocation until you are 30. Be wary of a tall dark lady and a slim blonde man'.
Not the words of a song but the prophesies of a Hungarian gypsy friend of my mothers who read me palm in 1981, shortly after my return from Adelaide.
I didn't realize then but the tall, dark lady would be Louise and the slim blonde man was Matty. I was about to reach the peak of my dubious career and in my hedonistic world it seemed nothing could go wrong. It would be another 18 months before her prophesies started coming true.
Betty and I, and the other boys spent our first afternoon at the new Brett's in total shock. We had lost half our staff and our new premises were a hovel compared to the luxurious parlour we had just moved from. Thankfully it was a Friday and by 5pm the phones were, as usual, ringing hot. Clients totally unaware of the dramatic change to the business were still calling and the boys were kept busy with out calls. We had a couple of walk in clients that night. Regulars who were all shocked at the change in the premises but loyal enough to chat with me and discuss what changes we could make to make the place more inviting.
Saturday morning and Betty and I were on the phone to Louise. We told Louise that we needed to spend at least $300 from the previous nights takings to renovate and redecorate the house to meet our clients standards. Louise was happy to let us do whatever was needed.
We painted the rooms, bought new curtains, got builders in to replace the louvre doors (!) in the bathroom and toilet and turned the back room into the boys sitting room. This was originally a cheap brick and tin extension to the tiny terrace house. Dark, dingy and unbearably hot or cold (depending upon the season). We installed a fan above the rooms entry door and hung a clear plastic shower curtain across the door - so we could see if clients were coming to use the bathroom and hide the drugs!!
It took a month before we were finally back to 'business as usual'. New boys replaced the old, we got a whole new demographic of clients from the nearby suburbs, and by cleverly keeping out call prices to our old regular suburbs the same price we doubled our profits.
Louise was thrilled and so were we. Betty and I ran the business like a well oiled machine. The clients were happy and the boys were even happier. No restrictions on drug taking, no sudden check-ups from Graham and money, money, money coming out of our ears.
I was in my element. Suddenly every working boy in Sydney wanted to be part of the new Brett's Boys. I was interviewing at least twice a day. Most of the boys were just coming around to get off with me, but a few were genuine and became part of our new, happy family.
Amazingly some of these new boys included old friends from Adelaide and one, much to both our surprise had been a good friend of mine from my days at Rushcutter's Bay when I was in a relationship with Bill.
Glenn (Glenda) had been one of the few of Bill's friends who I had genuinely liked, mainly due to his unpretentiousness and easy going manner. It was Glenda who would introduce me to his dealer, Stephen, a hulking cockney guy who initially started bringing us grass to buy on a daily basis.
After a few weeks he realized that he could work with me and started off by offering me 'sticks' of grass at $15, which I would sell to the boys for $20. We were all smoking so much that it didn't take long before I was buying them for $10, selling them for $20 and Stephen would throw in 5 extra sticks for me.
I was making a fortune. There was no pressure to buy. But as we all spent most of our time sitting in the 'back room' getting stoned it was an easy and safe alternative. I would always fill up the bowl at least 3 times a day and when it was empty the other boys would all take turns to buy a stick and we would all share it.
Betty sold for me on her shifts and we let Colin do whatever he wanted during his shifts. He was so lazy that he didn't even try and get in on the deal. As with Betty I would have happily offered him $5 for every stick he sold but he wasn't interested. So the boys either found another alternative on those nights, or one of them would ring and Matty would drive over with a supply.
One of the new boys decided to get in on the act. I wasn't happy and told him that he could sell any time on Colin's shifts or outside of work, but definitely not on mine or Betty's shifts.
Of course he didn't take heed and it didn't take long for Betty and I to realise that he was quietly selling behind our backs. I spoke with him and again stated the terms I was happy with. He agreed, but within a few weeks was again trying to undercut me (with inferior grass) and doing it during mine or Betty's shifts.
Silly boy. I knew that he was working for another parlour on his days off and the owner was a down and out drug addicted thief. He was using his boys to pan out clients homes and would then do break and enters, stealing whatever valuables the client had, often getting the boys to drug the clients, before returning in the middle of the night to rob them. Months later this owner would be found dead in his own parlour from a heroin overdose. The gossip was that it had been done by two of his own workers who had then stolen all his money, taken his house keys and stripped his house bare!
Cleverly he used the boys to stash the stolen goods at their houses for a week or two before selling them to second hand shops. The particular boy had bragged about this and told us that his apartment was full of stolen white goods which would be sold on later and he would get 50% of the money.
I could have resorted to violent tactics or simply sacked the boy if I had wanted, but I had a better plan. Along with Betty, I simply rang the daily newspaper's classifieds section and put an add with the boys address stating that on the coming Saturday starting at 7am there would be a 'moving house' white-goods sale. This was the 80's. The world was still naive and we didn't need any more proof than a telephone number to place the add. We deliberately gave Brett's Boys phone number to the sales lady.
The following Saturday the boy was on the doorstep by 9am. He had already had over 20 people turn up for the 'white-goods' sale! Totally shocked, but also totally in admiration at our clever tactics. He had rang the newspaper and found out the contact number given and put two and two together. Suffice to say he never sold drugs again at Brett's. He still remained a good friend and worker until the day I left.
I could have left this story out, but I need to point out the reality of what was actually happening and how I was conducting my 'dealing' business to make sense of what was to come later.
Fame, fortune and a dramatic fall were on their way.....
CHANGING DAZE....(part 3).
'Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you want till it's gone.....'
I had 8 days to wait until the planned takeover. Louise had asked me not to confide in anyone and as much as I could I didn't.
I wasn't silly enough to know that anyone I told at Brett's Boys would be known by Louise, somehow, sometime. Yet I had to confide in some-one. By this time Betty (Brett) had found the 3 of us a beautiful home in an historic suburb about 15 minutes drive west of the city (detailed later).
Betty was my best friend, my sister, my ally at Brett's Boys and the only person I thought capable and loyal enough of helping me to work out how to deal with getting Marcia on the premises at the appointed time. A time when she was flat out at her Girl's Parlour - 7pm on a Friday night!
Betty was a boy from the outback - full of the Ozzie, she'll be right mate, slap you on the back and laugh Australians who are now a dying breed. Over the pursuing days Betty worked his infectious charm on the security guard in question. Within days the 3 of us were best friends. When you are spending nearly 24/7 with people you can either love 'em or hate 'em.
The thug, Jeffrey, was a tall, solid, but intellectually lacking thug who was no different to the rest of us. By the 3rd day she even managed to get Jeffrey to indulge in a bong with us outside in the morning. Afterwards he went to his room to sleep and that was the pattern that began to follow. When he awoke Betty would be there to make him a cup of coffee and we would resume normal roles waiting for Marcia to turn up and demand a run down of the days activities and takings.
Friday comes around and I am on tenterhooks all morning. Betty gave me some sort of tranquillizer pill to calm me down and promised that everything would be okay. God bless Betty, everything went perfectly. We had a few morning bongs with Jeffrey, he went to sleep, and when he woke up and come downstairs Betty was busy in the kitchen making Coffee.
It's 5.30 and all the boys have arrived. We are starting to get clients at the door and a few outcalls and Betty and Jeffrey are still outside smoking bongs!!!!! I'm popping out in between to join them and desperately trying to get Betty's attention to find out what's going on.
At 5.50 or so Jeff suddenly closed his eyes and fell forward from the bench landing head first on the tiled courtyard. The fall had been slow and in pitching movements so even though he hit his head first, it was at a slow impact and he only sustained minor grazing. it took 4 of our biggest boys to drag an unconscious Jeffrey upstairs to his room.
While all this was happening, Betty calmly told me that he had put Mogadon pills and extra sugar in both cups of Jeffrie's coffee.......goodness knows how many. Betty had a history of pill taking and at one time had said quite innocently to me (after putting her night's trade into an ambulance) 'but I only gave him 5 moggies?'
Minutes later I was on the phone to Marcia telling her that Jeffrey appeared to have overdosed on something while he was in his room and we needed her there.
Marcia arrived maybe 20 minutes later. Straight up to Jeffries room where we decided he was just passed out and didn't need an ambulance....in the meantime Betty has already rung Lousie.
Ding Dong.......Acting casually I excused myself from the room to answer the door as was my job. Louise stood there, dressed in all black leather, with 3 huge Islander type bouncers, all at least 200 kgs each.
Shock, feign horror, as Marcia comes down the stairs on hearing Louise's voice. Within minutes it was over. I don't even know what Louise said to Marcia, it was done in the reception parlour, but Marcia left without a word, followed a few moments later with Jeffrey on the shoulders of two of Louise's heavies. She never stood a chance. Apart from Louise being 1m taller and flanked by 600kg of muscle and fat, she (and I'm sure Marcia knew) had the blessing of the local police. This was Sydney in the mid 1980's - a notorious time for the integrity of the force back then.
We called Colin from home, we called the trannies from Diamond Lil's and waited until as many 'boys' were there as possible present. The total surprise on everyone's face (including Matty's) when Louise asked me to explain what was happening was something I will never forget.
Suddenly I was not only the centre of attention, but also the obvious ally and new manager for Louise. Most of the 'boys' were impressed, everyone knew we were going through change so I don't think it was as much of a shock as it could have been. Nobody had particularly liked Marcia's new regime. A few of the boys, including Colin, were not so whole-heartedly optimistic about the change in ownership.
In the end we had a week before Graham's family were taking possession of the house, and all the contents (except the sheets and towels!) and whatever happened, Louise was the only one offering a premises to continue from. By the end of the week, we had lost half the workers, some going to other parlors, some just disappearing from our lives forever. Colin kept quiet but remained with us. I knew he was unhappy with me as in his eyes a much older, more experienced person with a longer history of working at Brett's was being replaced by a recent blow in. He wanted the position and prestige that went with it...he would never have been able to do it (and within a few years was to prove so dramatically - unfortunately ensuring I had taken a tumble before him).
A week later and we were all putting sheets, bedding and whatever else we thought we could pilfer onto a removal truck and heading to our new location.
This was not what we had imagined. Where Brett's was a charming Edwardian house in a trendy area of Sydney our new location was totally the opposite.
We moved to Glebe. Glebe was originally an old colonial village worker's village originally located on the outskirts of Sydney a few kilometres from Circular Quay. It's northern boundary is the shores of the Y shaped Blackwattle Bay and it's southern boundary is roughly Parramatta Road, Sydney's original road heading west to the colonial villages and towns. The suburb was then a declining urban slum, on the most part.
Abandoned or decrepit warehouses at the city end, row upon row of small, cheap and run down Victorian workers cottages, squatters living in some of the larger, abandoned terrace houses and many welfare recipients living in public housing.
We were in a single storied, tiny, corner terrace at the bottom of the hill which formed Glebe's now very avante- garde and trendy main street The sandstone cliff which backed onto the small rear gardens of the opposite cottages formed the 'financial boundary' which seperated Glebe from 'Glebe Point'....from the days of the early settlers always a desirable address, with an amazing array of grand old houses of every vernacular.
We had gone from a lavish, 2 storey, 5 bedroom salon into a run-down tiny cottage which provided little privacy and was definitely not up to the standard of what our clients were used to. The rooms were small. One faced the front entrance, and both were the first two rooms in the house and had a corridor running the length of them before opening up into the 'reception area'. Every client arriving could be heard by any client using either of the two rooms.
On top of that the house had been being used as a private parlor for two girls. They were not only dirty and messy in their house-keeping habits but left the place with a distinct reek of vagina.
Removalists and Louise finally gone, there was only one thing to do, besides all stand there gaping in horror at one an other. Break out the marijuana, mull up and work out how the hell we could make this place work.......
