by Sue Lawson
“They didn’t even try to find out who ran over him.” I tried hard not to say Dwayne’s name. “I mean, how hard could it be? I figured it out on my own.”
“I’m from Newcastle, here to make sure there’s no trouble with this Freedom Ride. It’s the first I’ve heard of this accident,” said the policeman. “I’ll follow it up; you have my word.”
I stared into his solemn eyes. “Swear you will do something.”
“I swear to you, this will be investigated thoroughly.” He placed his hand over his heart. “Promise.”
My joints felt too soft to hold me. I wanted to fall to the grass, to curl into a tight ball and cry. I looked into Keith’s shocked face. He looked away first.
“It’s got to end,” I said. “All this,” I swept my arm in a circle, “it’s got to stop.”
But no one heard me, and if they did they didn’t care.
“Right,” bellowed the police officer who’d promised to investigate Dwayne’s death. “I’ve spoken to Mayor Jackson and the Sneddons. The Aboriginal children can swim, as long as they shower and are fully supervised.”
The students and Aborigines cheered.
The locals simmered.
“And the first one to argue can come back to the cells with me.” The crowd fell silent. “Good, now bugger off home, the lot of you, unless you plan on swimming.” His glare seemed to dare them to speak.
Slowly, men slunk to their cars, women gathered scattered children and hurried away.
Nan fussed over Dad. She dragged him to his feet and hurried him away to Bull’s car.
The students led the Aborigine children to the pool entrance.
“You okay?” asked Barry, beside me.
I shrugged. “Not really.”
“That was one of the bravest things I have ever seen.”
“Brave?” I shook my head. “I should have–”
“Robbie.”
I turned to see Micky with two women, clutching his hands. I recognised his mother Nancy from last night.
“This is my mum, Robbie.”
“Hello, Mrs Menzies.”
“And this is my gran.”
Her face was contorted with grief. She released Micky’s hand and stepped towards me. “Thank you.” She grasped my hand with both of hers and squeezed. When she looked into my eyes, I felt she could read every thought I’d ever had, hear every word I’d ever said.
I looked away first. “Please don’t thank me. I should have said something sooner.” I raked my teeth over my bottom lip.
Micky’s grandmother tapped the back of my hand. “Maybe, but you didn’t have to say anything at all. You did a good thing.” She patted my hand again and let go. “Thank you.”
Nancy stepped forwards, her face solemn. “Thank you, Robbie.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, the words burning my throat.
“I know.” She bobbed her head and, with her mother-in-law and Micky, walked back to the other Aborigines.
“Micky,” I called.
He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I know, Bower.”
CHAPTER 58
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the cases and bag packed with my stuff, including the gifts and cards Mum had sent me.
Yesterday, after all the fuss and fighting, the Aborigine kids spent an hour splashing and diving and skylarking at the pool with the students. Many white people streamed out the gates, but others stayed.
At five, when Mrs Sneddon’s tinny voice crackled through the hot afternoon air, announcing that the pool was closing, the students, the kids, Barry and I had boarded the bus for the caravan park, via the Crossing. Micky had already left with his family.
I’d stared out the bus window at the tumbledown fibro houses, battered cars, makeshift corrugated tin fences and lean-to verandahs.
“Pretty bad, eh?” said Trev from the seat behind me.
“I had no idea,” I said, unable to tear my eyes away.
“The Tip is worse. Much worse.”
“Do you think this, the bus trip, will change anything?” I asked.
“Bloody hope so,” said Trev, “because it has to change.”
A soft rap sounded on the door, dragging me back to the Gregory’s spare room. Mrs Gregory opened the door. “Are you packed?”
I nodded.
“You haven’t changed your mind?”
“No, especially not after yesterday.” I pressed my thumbs together, watching the colours change in my skin. “Those people …”
Mrs Gregory sighed. “Horrifying. Just horrifying.” She crossed the room and sat beside me. “Robbie, I’m very proud of what you did.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it. That took such courage.” She took her hand from her apron pocket. “Robbie, I want you to have this.” On her open palm lay a gold wristwatch. “It was Artie’s.”
I shifted away from her, as though she’d pinched me. “I can’t. That should be Barry’s. I–”
“Stop, Robbie. Barry knows and approves. Besides, all of this,” she gestured around her, “is his. My Artie would have liked you, Robbie. Very much.” She held the watch closer to me.
I reached out with a shaking hand to take it. “It’s so …” I turned it over in my hand, running my fingertips over its cool, smooth face. “Thank you.”
The bus groaned to a stop and idled outside.
“Is it nine already?” I asked, panic flooding me.
Mrs Gregory nodded. “Now, promise me, Robbie, if things don’t work out, you’ll come straight back here.”
“I promise.” I closed my fingers around the watch.
“I have your mum’s address and phone number, so I’ll write and talk to you often.”
It felt like that snake from the shower block had coiled around my throat and was squeezing.
When I stood, Mrs Gregory scooped me into a hug. “I’ll miss you.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and held her tight. This time she broke the hold first.
I scooped up my bags and followed her down the hall. Barry was outside, farewelling Trev. They shook hands then did that blokey hug they’d done when the bus arrived.
“See you when Pam returns,” said Trev. “You going to propose at last?”
Barry threw back his head and laughed. “As if I’d tell you.”
“You better ask her,” said Mrs Gregory, as we drew alongside.
Trev kissed her cheek. “I’ll take those,” he said, reaching for my cases and bag.
Barry stuck out his hand. When I took it, he pulled me into the same kind of hug he’d given Trev.
“I’ll miss you, Robbie.” His chin pressed against my shoulder. “Remember, you have a home with us, always. No matter where we are.” He stepped back. Tears danced on his lashes. He rubbed his eyes.
“Barry, will you stay here?”
He looked around him. “I’m not sure. I love the river, but …” He sighed. “We’ll see how things go.”
“You mean with the locals?”
“Yeah, with them.”
“And Pam?”
He winked. “Who knows, when Pam gets home, we might even move your way. Not a word to Trev, though.”
I wanted to grin, but if I moved any part of me I’d cry.
The bus horn sounded.
“Time to go,” said Barry.
I hugged him and Mrs Gregory once more and sniffed away the tears.
“Talk to you when I get to Inverell,” I said, pulling gently out of Mrs Gregory’s hold.
My eyes were blurry with tears when I climbed aboard the bus. Charles, sitting near the front, acknowledged me with a nod. No one spoke as I made my way to the first spare double seat.
“Righto, Moree, here we come,” said Ron the bus driver, pulling the lever to close the door.
“Hold on,” yelled a girl at the front.
I figured she’d forgotten something, but when the door wheezed back open, Micky climbed aboard. He held a fishing rod and squinted down the bus.
He smiled when he saw me.
“Hey, Bower. A gift. It was Uncle’s. He taught me to fish with this.”
I stood. “Micky, I can’t …”
“Yeah, I know, you’ll never be as good a fisherman as me, but you’ll do okay.” He turned to the bus driver. “You taking the road past the Station?”
“Yep. Want a lift?” he asked.
“That’d be good.” Micky moved to the seat behind me.
The door wheezed closed and the bus engine revved.
“Just making sure you’re leaving for real.” Micky winked, the sparkle back in his eyes.
My laugh started as a heaving rumble in my chest and burst from me, echoing around the bus.
As the bus began to move, I leaped up and opened the window. I waved to Barry and Mrs Gregory.
“Hey,” said Micky, “check that out.”
On the road outside the caravan park, Wright, Rhook, Edwards and Keith sat on their bikes scowling.
“Piss off, ya commies,” yelled Wright, his arms folded. His sneer slipped from his face when he saw Micky and me.
“Where are you going?” called Keith.
“Home.”
I drank in the confusion that flashed across his face.
“Be seeing you,” I bellowed as the bus changed gear.
Beside me, Micky blew them a kiss.
ABOUT THE 1965 AUSTRALIAN FREEDOM RIDE
As recently as the 1960s, Indigenous Australians were banned from cafes, milk bars, hairdressers, hotels, hospitals, swimming pools and other public places due to their skin colour. Places which did allow Indigenous people entry had strict rules. For example, in some NSW towns Aborigines had to enter the cinema through a back entrance after the lights were dimmed and sit in roped off areas at the front. Hospitals that actually treated Aborigines kept them separate from white people in “wards” on the hospital verandah.
In the early Sixties, civil rights issues in America impacted on other countries, including Australia. After a student rally in Canberra to protest the segregation in America, Australian students were criticised for not complaining about the way Australia’s Indigenous population were treated.
Sydney University students formed the Student Action for Aborigines (SAFA) group and elected the first Indigenous Australian to graduate from university, Charles Perkins, as its leader. With the help of Rev Ted Noffs, from the Wayside Chapel in Sydney, SAFA organised an Australian version of the American Freedom Rides. While the American protest concentrated on segregation on public transport, the aim of the Australian Freedom Ride was to investigate and highlight the health, education and housing conditions of Aborigines. The students followed Rev Martin Luther King’s model of non-violent, direct action.
SAFA hired a bus, and between February 12 and 26, 1965, travelled 3200 kilometres through towns including Orange, Dubbo, Walgett, Moree, Grafton, Bowraville and Kempsey. The students surveyed Indigenous and white Australians about conditions and were confronted and upset by what they discovered.
The students held their first protest in Walgett where they picketed the RSL. During the tour, they faced opposition not just from white residents of the town, but also Indigenous people, who were fearful the attention would only worsen their plight. The student action attracted media attention not only nationally but internationally.
SAFA broke up in 1966, but achieved much in its short life. The Freedom Ride they organised raised the issues of racism and discrimination in mainstream media, and set in motion the success of the 1967 Referendum to have Aboriginal people included in the census, and to enable the Commonwealth to make laws for them. This Referendum result was the biggest yes vote in Australia’s history.
This Freedom Ride paved the way for other action, including the land rights campaigns, the setting up of the Tent Embassy in Canberra and the apology to the Stolen Generation. While the treatment of Indigenous people has improved, there is still a long way to go.
In 2015, thirteen of the students who participated in the 1965 Freedom Ride, plus Charles Perkins’ daughter and current Sydney University students visited Dubbo, Walgett, Moree and Kempsey to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the Ride. The re-enactment celebrated the courage of the original Riders and the communities they visited. The anniversary Ride was led by the Sydney University Student Representative Council president, Kyol Blakeney, the first Aboriginal man to hold the position.
FREEDOM RIDE PARTICIPANTS
STUDENTS
Charles Perkins
Jim Spigelman
Gary Williams
John Butterworth
Aidan Foy
John Gowdie
Alan Outhred
John Powles
Alex Mills
Judith Rich
Ann Curthoys
Louise Higham
Barry Corr
Machteld Hali
Beth Hansen
Norm Mackay
Bob Gallagher
Paddy Dawson
Brian Aarons
Pat Healy
Chris Page
Ray Leppik
Colin Bradford
Rick Collins
Darce Cassidy
Robyn Iredale
David Pepper
Sue Johnston
Derek Molloy
Sue Reeves
Hall Greenland
Warwick Richards
Helen Gray
Wendy Golding
OTHERS
Gerry Mason, friend of Charles Perkins
Bill Pakenham, bus driver until Grafton
Ernie Albrecht, bus driver from Grafton
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Though the actual process of writing is a solitary one, the development of an idea to a novel involves a cast of thousands. So many people have generously contributed their experiences and expertise to the writing of Freedom Ride.
Without Maryann Ballantyne’s incredible enthusiasm, support and encouragement, I’d still be toying with writing this novel. I am blessed to have such an inspiring editor, talented publisher and friend.
The Walker Crew – who polish, cut, design and support.
Thank you to those courageous and inspired students who woke Australia to what was occurring – apartheid by another name – in our own country. This segregation was referred to as a colour bar. Their courage and determination to create awareness and change altered the direction of Australia’s history. But we still have a long way to go.
I am indebted to one particular student who participated in the 1965 Freedom Ride, Ann Curthoys. Ann kept a diary during the tour and later wrote Freedom Ride: A Freedom Rider Remembers, published in 2002. The book was invaluable and fascinating, and helped me understand the cultural climate of the time, the courage of the students and Indigenous people, and the difficulties both groups faced.
My thanks also to another dedicated and passionate person, Rachel Perkins, who wrote and directed “Freedom Ride”, an episode of the 1995 TV series Blood Brothers. It provided helpful background information and solidified in my mind the importance of the event.
The Crannys – Karen, Corinne and Bernadette – for their friendship, understanding, encouragement, laughs and publishing moments. Everybody needs Crannys in their life. I’m so lucky to have them in mine.
An extra thank you to Corinne for sharing her memories of the Sixties and caravanning.
My brother Anthony Rizzo, who shared his experiences in New South Wales.
Brendan Delahunty, who pointed me in the right direction for details and offered sound advice.
The wonderful May Gibbs Children’s Literature Trust – thank you for the Creative Time Residential Fellowship! What luxury to be able to write and edit and avoid the usual trappings of daily life.
Finally, but most importantly, thanks to my ever-supportive, understanding and patient husband Bruce and daughter, Courtney. I couldn’t do what I do without you.
Freedom Ride was developed as part of a Creative Time Residential Fellowship provide
d by the May Gibbs Children’s Literature Trust.
First published in 2015
by Black Dog Books
an imprint of Walker Books Australia Pty Ltd
Locked Bag 22, Newtown
NSW 2042 Australia
www.walkerbooks.com.au
This ebook edition published in 2015
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Text © 2015 Sue Lawson
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without the prior written permission of the publisher.
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:
Lawson, Sue, 1963– author.
Freedom ride / Sue Lawson.
Subjects: Sydney University – Students – Fiction.
Freedom Rides, 1965 – Fiction.
Civil rights demonstrations – Australia – Fiction.
College students – Travel – Fiction.
A823.4
ISBN: 978-1-925126-52-5 (ePub/mobi)
ISBN: 978-1-925126-51-8 (e-PDF)
Cover (newspaper background) © Shutterstock.com/Here
Cover (image of protestors) © Shutterstock.com/Rawpixel
For the Crannys – Karen, Bernadette and Corinne.
“If you have come to help me, you are wasting your time.
If you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.”
A BRISBANE COLLECTIVE QUOTE
“An important slice of Australian history. 4 1/2 stars.”
BOOKS+PUBLISHING
“A brilliant evocation of the racism in Australia of the 1960s and the Freedom Ride that challenged it.”
ANN CURTHOYS
“A pivotal moment in Australia’s history is captured in this story.”
DARCE CASSIDY
Ann Curthoys and Darce Cassidy were part of the original Freedom Ride in 1965.
Other Books by Sue Lawson
Allie McGregor’s True Colours
Forget Me Not
Finding Darcy
After
Dare You
Pan’s Whisper
