King of the Cross
Page 1
Contents
About the Author
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
Thirty-three
Thirty-four
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Mark Dapin is the author of the novels King of the Cross, Spirit House and R&R. King of the Cross won the Ned Kelly Award for Best First Fiction, and Spirit House was longlisted for the Miles Franklin Literary Award and shortlisted for the Age Book of the Year and the Royal Society for Literature’s Ondaatje Prize. His recent work of military history, The Nashos’ War, has been widely acclaimed. He is a PhD candidate at UNSW@ADFA.
markdapin.com
ALSO BY MARK DAPIN
Spirit House
The Nashos’ War
R&R
EDITED BY MARK DAPIN
The Penguin Book of Australian War Writing
From the Trenches: the Best ANZAC Writing of World War One
To Mr Sutton
RIP
INSPIRED BY AN UNTRUE STORY
ONE
[Seaview House, Greenknowe Avenue, Potts Point. 03-12-01. 2:05 pm.]
Mr Mendoza, I’m Anthony Klein, from the Australian Jewish Times.
Nice to meet you, Anthony. Would you like a coffee? Lazarus here can bring us a coffee.
A flat white?
Why not, Anthony. Live dangerously. I always look forward to reading your excellent newspaper on a Shabbos, with a slice of challah and a cappuccino from Vitto’s. I particularly enjoy the weddings pages – although, of course, I’m more likely to know somebody in the obituaries these days. Do you go to all those weddings yourself, Anthony?
No, actually, I’m the features writer. People send in their own wedding photographs.
Is that so? Do you do the bar mitzvahs, then?
The bar mitzvah reports come from the readers, too. I don’t have much to do with them.
So, if I want my daughter’s wedding to appear in the Australian Jewish Times, I contact you?
No, that’s not . . . You just send in the pictures.
It doesn’t matter, Anthony. That one’s not going to get married any time soon. She is a journalist, too. Perhaps you know her.
I don’t think so.
She calls herself Sharon Stevens. My name’s not good enough for her.
Why is that?
You’ll have to ask her.
Obviously, we’re here to talk about the five million dollars you have pledged to the renovation of the Great Synagogue.
Obviously.
But, on the subject of names, could I ask how you became a Mendoza?
How did you become a Klein?
My father was a Klein.
Was he? Or was he perhaps a Kleinmann or a Kleinberg? They were weak bludgers at immigration in those days. They didn’t want to waste their time writing difficult foreign words while they were busy waving through Nazi war criminals. And the Jews hoped to assimilate, to be like everybody else. So they let the immigration officers shorten their names, and Grinowitz became ‘Green’, and Kapovsky became ‘Capp’, and so on.
But your father’s name wasn’t Mendozawitz, was it?
What is your father’s name, Anthony? Do I know him?
Gerard.
No. More likely, I knew your mother.
Your name wasn’t changed at immigration, was it?
I don’t remember where it was changed. It was a long time ago.
You were twenty.
And now I am eighty-one.
You were about to go into the army.
Yes, and fight fascism, but there was also fascism here at home, Anthony. There was anti-Semitism in the Australian army. They had games they played with Jews in the barracks: Jewball was one. They kicked the Jew as if he was a football.
But you changed your name to a Jewish name.
A proud Jewish name, yes.
So how did that help you in the army?
They thought I was Spanish, perhaps. I don’t know.
Can I ask what was your original name?
It’s not important for your story. It will only confuse the readers. A boy of twenty didn’t give five million dollars to the synagogue. That was the gift of a man of eighty-one.
Of course, in the 1950s, 60s and 70s, most people didn’t know you as Jacob Mendoza.
No, they knew me as Mickey Mouse.
[Laughs.] A lot of people still call you ‘Mr Big’? Why is that?
Because I have a shlong like a roll of vorsht. Why did they call you ‘Mr Little’?
I’m sorry . . .
You don’t know your own name? ‘Klein’: in German, it means ‘small’. In Yiddish, too.
Who was it that first called you ‘Mr Big’?
Some anti-Semite.
Was it the Royal Commission into Organised Crime?
You are asking about things that were over when you were still at school. What did they call you at school, Anthony?
I’m not . . .
Would you expect to be asked about it when you are eighty-one years old and have just given five million dollars to the synagogue? You seem obsessed with names, Anthony. Should we talk about my gift?
Of course. Obviously, it’s a huge sum of money. You were born in Balmain, you left school at fifteen. How did you become so wealthy?
I’m a businessman.
What kind of businessman?
A successful businessman.
I mean, what is your line of business?
I’m involved in the hospitality industry, the construction industry, investments, property development . . .
You’re a landlord?
I am a landlord, yes. I have properties in Perth, Adelaide, Geelong, Melbourne, the Gold Coast, Goulburn and Sydney.
Do you still own property in Kings Cross?
What is the relevance of this question? I am giving the shul five million dollars, not a strip club.
Do you still have an interest in strip clubs?
I’m eighty-one. Do you have an interest in strip clubs, Mr Little?
They say you once controlled Kings Cross.
They say the Jews control the weather.
Did you?
If I did, I would make it rain on the Bulldogs, but never on my beloved Tigers. What kind of interview is this, Anthony? A police interview?
No, it’s just that I need some background.
Aren’t we from the same ‘background’, Anthony? Isn’t that why we are here? Ask me about the shul.
Okay, what motivated you to give such a large amount of money to the synagogue?
I wouldn’t say I am a religious man, but I am a man who understands the importance of tradition. We must never forget our roots. At high holy days, I put on the tallith and pray like my father and his father before him.
Was your father a member of the Great Synagogue?
The Great Synagogue? No.
Where did your father pray?
This happened before you were born. What can you say, with any certainty, about the time before you were
born, Anthony?
But was your father a religious man?
Religion, to him, was a private matter.
How well do you know the treasurer of the Great Synagogue, Henry Aaron?
Henry is a great friend and a business associate. Everybody knows Henry. Do you know him?
No, I don’t.
His grandson has his bar mitzvah in October. Perhaps you will be there to record the event.
[Laughs.] I don’t write the bar mitzvah page, Mr Mendoza.
Today, you don’t. Tomorrow, who knows? Your editor is my great friend Bob Stein, isn’t it? We used to play golf together. He had impeccable enthusiasm but poor technique.
He’s gone now.
None of us keeps our jobs forever, Anthony. What else would you like to know for your story?
Do you give a lot of money away?
What else is it for? I have donated to the Jewish Communal Appeal since 1967. I have provided money for the Jewish National Fund ever since they distributed those blue and white collection tins. Do you remember those tins, Anthony? I don’t suppose you do. I am also a regular and enthusiastic contributor to police charities, or so they tell me.
What do you mean by that?
It’s a joke, Anthony.
Of course, you have had problems with the police in the past.
Of course. In the past.
Beginning in 1948?
I had no problems with the police in 1948. I got married in 1948, in the Great Synagogue, to which I have recently donated five million dollars. Is that against the law? I stayed married to one beautiful, devout Jewish woman for forty-nine years. Is that a crime?
Before the war, you were convicted in the Central Court of Petty Sessions for handling stolen goods.
Was I? You would know, I suppose. How old are you? Twenty-one?
Thirty-one.
You’ve never been in a war, have you, Anthony? You’ve never held your mates in your arms and watched them die.
With respect, Mr Mendoza, you served out the Second World War in Liverpool, New South Wales.
Anthony thinks I’m talking about the Second World War, Lazarus.
[Laughter.]
You have been accused of profiting from the black market during the war years.
I’ve been accused of everything, Anthony. Let me ask you something: why have I never seen you around?
I only arrived in Australia a few months ago.
And you already have a job in the media? Mazel tov. You must be a very talented young man. You are from London?
Yes.
Ah, I thought I could hear the sound of Bow Bells.
Do you remember what was said by the Great Bell of Bow, Anthony? ‘I do not know.’
And you do not know, either, do you? You don’t know the whole story. How could you? You’ve obviously read Laurie Block’s book about me, and – perfectly understandably – come away with the wrong impression. So I’m pleased to have the opportunity to set you straight about every single tiny detail of my life before you were born – even though we are supposed to be talking about my five-million-dollar donation to the Great Synagogue – but, through inexperience rather than malice, you seem unable to ask the right questions. I’ll make it easier for you, shall I? I’ll tell you everything you need to know, then you can write it down.
I was born in Bondi in 1920. My father was a draper. We were poor but we never went without. At school, I excelled at both academic and sporting pursuits, but I chose to leave at the age of fifteen to help my tate in business. In 1940, at the first chance I got, I enrolled in the Citizens Military Force to fight against Hitler. I served until 1944, by which time the tide had turned against the Germans, and the Allies had liberated Paris. I was discharged with the rank of corporal, and proudly wear my Returned Servicemen’s League badge to this day.
After the war, I entered the hospitality industry and became a pioneer of Parisienne-style entertainment in this city. I brought Sydney the cancan and Frank Sinatra. I entertained a generation of servicemen like myself, taking rest and relaxation from the war in Vietnam. I bought first one nightclub, then two, then five, then finally . . . who knows, Anthony? I may have overstretched myself, but when you are in the business of making people happy, you don’t count the cost. A smile is payment enough.
Yes, I have attracted criticism. Why? Because I am ‘colourful’ – and you know what that means: ‘Jewish’. Because I am ‘well connected’ – and you know what that means: ‘Jewish’. If my name were MacDonald rather than Mendoza, you would never have heard of me.
What my critics often forget is my long-time, proven commitment to socially progressive causes, such as liberalisation of the laws regarding the service of alcohol, the emancipation of homosexuals and other minorities, and the social integration of negroes and midgets. It was my actions that brought about the end of the six o’clock swill, and the horrific orgy of domestic violence that was a predictable consequence of that short-sighted policy. My clubs in Kings Cross were the first to offer a safe meeting place to the homosexual community. Many of the liberties now taken for granted by the fetishist community were secured by my pioneering actions in the 1950s. There was no segregation in any of Jake Mendoza’s establishments during the 1960s. Negro soldiers enjoyed the same freedoms as their Caucasian officers.
As you point out, Anthony, I have, from time to time, attracted the attentions of the New South Wales police, known colloquially as ‘the best police force money can buy’. There have been attempts to prosecute me as a ‘sly grogger’, which is no longer an offence; as a bingo caller, which is no longer an offence; as the proprietor of adult-entertainment establishments, which is no longer an offence; as the keeper of a disorderly house, which is no longer an offence; and outraging public decency, which is no longer an offence.
All my life I have given generously to good causes: Catholic, non-denominational and Jewish. I am the originator of charity bingo in Australia, a founding member of the Hakoah Club in Bondi, and a life governor of the Benevolent Society of New South Wales. Today, as a retired businessman approaching the end of my life, I have resolved to crown my career of philanthropy with one final honour: five million dollars towards the renovation of the Great Synagogue, the loveliest in New South Wales and one of the finest in the world, and the shul where I, a returned serviceman, married my one, beautiful, devout Jewish wife, Deborah, in 1948.
Now, that should be enough for you to write your story, Anthony, shouldn’t it?
That’s very helpful, Mr Mendoza, but I do still have a few questions.
No doubt it’s your inquisitive nature that makes you such a fine journalist. Myself, I prefer to accept people as they are.
There is some disquiet in the community about the source of your five million dollars. People point to your conviction for handling stolen goods; your jail time for tax evasion; the dismal reputations of certain of your nightclubs; the fact that your name has come up in no less the six royal commissions; the fact that premises you own and insure seem unusually susceptible to arson; and your alleged connections to the deaths of Maurice ‘the Little Fish’ Bass, Big Stan Callahan and Gozo Joe Stone, the punishment beatings of Mad Dog McCoy and Izzy Berger, and the disappearance of the retail heiress, Anita King, as reasons why it might be inappropriate to accept a donation for a house of prayer from a man identified by lawyers, police, politicians and criminals alike as ‘King Sin’, ‘Mr Big’ or ‘the King of the Cross’.
Are you speaking from notes, Anthony? Or do you have a partner standing on the window ledge, holding up cue cards for you?
I’ve done my research, that’s all.
The money is from brothels, blackmail and bashings, Anthony. There, now you have the answer you want. Are you going to use it in your newspaper?
I regret the passing of Big Stan Callahan – although I had nothing to do with it – just as I’m sorry that Mad Dog McCoy had his legs broken. On the other hand, Maurice ‘the Little Fish’ Bass and Izzy Berger got what
was coming to them, and, generally speaking, I’ve spared more low dogs who deserved to die than I’ve had blokes knocked who should’ve lived. I am thinking here of bent coppers such as Fred Carol and Dynamite Danny Dawson, and that weak-gutted mongrel Frankie Latimer. As for the bullshit about Gozo Joe Stone, I’m not going to put my hand up for that. I’m not good for the fire at Aphrodite’s, either, or the one that started the blue with the fucking Maltese in the first place, and I never even met Anita King – although, of course, I knew who she was.
If it rains on Melbourne Cup Day, you maggots blame Jake Mendoza. If lightning strikes the SCG, the jacks try to fit me for it. I’ve got fuck all to do with what goes on in the Cross these days. I’m just a kindly old tenant-manager with blind eyes, deafears and tight lips. If there were more like me, the world would be a better place.
But no imbecile in Sydney wants to believe that, so they send shitmen like you to ask me about ‘events’ (and I use the term loosely) that occurred (if they happened at all) when the children of Israel were still wandering through the fucking desert.
Do you know who controls the Cross today, Anthony? Fucking camelcock-sucking, schoolgirl-raping, towel-head-terrorist Lebbo cunts. Do you think when they sub their quid to Hezbollah, their imams ask, ‘Where did this come from, Abdul? Did you sell a bottle of Reschs Dinner Ale after hours in 1955? Oh, well, I’m sorry then, we can’t use it to buy our Jew-killing rockets. We’ll have to raise the money with a carboot sale.’
Grow up, Mr Little. I would find this kind of interview funny, Anthony, if cunts like you didn’t cause such monumental fucking problems for me. Because every time some can’t-read, bomb-building carpet pilot hears that a Jew is still ‘the King of the Cross’, he loads up his fucking stolen-from-the-army Steyr assault rifle and comes looking for me, and I have to deal with him like I dealt with Maurice ‘the Little Fish’ Bass, and didn’t fucking deal with Anita fucking King, no matter what you dogs like to fucking think.
So you’re putting my fucking life in danger, shitman, with your ‘research’ and your ‘with respect’ and your ‘just a few questions’.
Okay, now you’ve got your story: ‘JAKE MENDOZA TELLS ALL TO THE FUCKING AUSTRALIAN JEWISH TIMES ’. What do you think?