Wyatt Earp: and the Boomerang Refugium

by Jack Sunn

  Ray is normally fairly calm at dinners and functions, but on this occasion, he seemed to me to be distracted. Well he had just got engaged to be married, but was there something else? As if on cue he received a text message, read it, and then sprang to his feet.

  “Excuse me all. This is important.” He grabbed the television remote and switched it on. The channel had been selected earlier, and showed live, a charity concert being held at Brisbane’s premier Suncorp Stadium. I had heard a little about the concert, but being on the same day as our opening thought little of it. Ray had it timed to near perfection. No sooner did the screen come to life when a classic Australian song finished, and the host of the concert Vincent (Vincenzo) Vaughn, took the microphone. Vincent is an Icon in Australian music and television, best known as lead singer for Violent Lambs, and bearer of full sleeve tattoos on his arms. What Vincent lacks in height is made up for in attitude and presence. Behind him was a large screen. Normally the screen simply enlarged what the cameras on-site saw of the concert. But now an image came up, too my utter surprise, of a scene of our motorcade travelling through Mt Gravatt earlier today.

  Vincent went on to explain, “Ladies and gentleman. Today saw an historic event unfold that will change people’s lives, particularly for some of those people who have served in the armed forces of both Australia and the United States. The unusual aspect of this event was that it was organized not by government but by an individual who saw the need for low cost and easily affordable housing for ex-service men and women at cost price, while at the same time giving them a sense of community based on shared experiences. What you see on the screen behind me are some highlights of the proceedings that occurred on the outskirts of Brisbane at Redland Bay. The cabin park is named the Wyatt Earp, a name we in Oz normally think of as American. As true as that is, the Australian Navy once had a ship called at one time by the Australian name HMAS Wongala, meaning boomerang, and at another time HMAS Wyatt Earp, the one-time Marshall of Dodge City. Cutting a long story short, the park is administered by a not-for-profit trust called the Wongala Trust. You can now see the opening of the Wyatt Earp Park by our former Governor-General Admiral Gordon Alexander, and the US Secretary of the Navy Bill Everson. The park already provides housing for ex-service people of both countries, and will expand to incorporate more cabins and camp sites, and facilities for use by Legacy Australia. I now have pleasure in announcing that the proceeds of this concert will not only provide support for Legacy Australia as announced, but also the Wongala Trust. What makes the day a little more special for the man responsible for establishing the trust and this amazing facility is that he became engaged to be married this very morning. Jack Sunn, this song is for you. Good night everybody.”

  By this stage I was nothing short of stunned, and sat almost motionless. I was not only still, but quiet. My hands were also clammy. I had no idea, none at all. We, that is me, had deliberately not told the press what was happening. And to top it off the AC/DC tribute band then announced, “This is a slight variation of a classic. Jack, we hope you like it. It’s called She’s got you Jack.”

  I looked at Ray trying to hold a straight face, but he quickly broke out into a sneaky wide grin.

  Ray then stood, and with glass in hand, said, “Uncle Jack. I wish my Mum, your sister, could see you now. In the past few months, since coming back from Hawaii you seem to have moved mountains as well as people. News of what was to happen today was, despite your best efforts, anything but contained, as we have just seen. Someone told someone, who told someone else, and eventually Vincent found out, who rang and offered his and his company’s support. And like you, he gets things done. Also, earlier today Alisha and I were congratulated by Bill, I mean Mr. Secretary, on our engagement, and he said something to the effect of like uncle, like nephew, with the speed we do things. Uncle Jack, I prefer to think of it as, like father, like son. Let’s celebrate!”

  A lot of what happened next is difficult for me to recall. We, well at least me, probably had one too many drinks, but it sure was enjoyable. We all enjoyed ourselves, as though we had no chores left for the day, and as if we were on holidays. It would go down for me as one of the biggest days. The family had increased by two engagements, with both Susan and Alisha very excited, the park was officially open for business, Bev was reveling in all up to her armpits, and further funding for expansion was forthcoming. To the Alexander’s and Bill Everson, ceremonies had been a big part of their lives, but they seemed to simply enjoy the informality of this post-event celebration. It was like we were all family. And then, a limousine pulled up outside the manager’s cabin. Alf went to open the door, and with perfect timing, in stepped none other than Vincent himself. Our dinner group was by this stage quite informal and relaxed, and Vincent was introduced to everybody. We all chatted away and relived the best parts of the day.

  Within a short time, Vincent said to me, “Jack. Will you excuse me a moment? I left something in the car. Back in a mo.”

  He left and returned with a box, and handed it to me. “A little something to remember the day. It rattled slightly as all good boxes do, and I unwrapped it and opened the box. I knew Vincent liked wine, but this left me stunned. With all that had transpired today, it simply was not stopping. Inside were six vintages of premier Penfold’s wines, including three of Grange Hermitage.

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  With dinner finished, the Alexanders retired to what was now named the Admiral’s cabin, while the Secretary of the Navy was assigned a guest cabin. As the Alexander’s left, Alf also left following a short but discreet distance behind. Laura noticing that Alf had left, also left and followed him, and found Alf seated on a bench in front of the Admiral’s cabin.

  “May I join you Alf?” Laura asked.

  “Yes of course. But we must be quiet. Please take a seat. May I offer you some tea? I have both green tea and camomile.”

  “A little green tea would be nice, thank-you.” Alf was prepared having brought two large thermos flasks of hot water, and quietly poured two cups, handing one to Laura.

  “Alf. You’re different. I mean that in a kind way. May I ask how you fit in, in this extraordinary occasion and situation?”

  Alf, without missing a beat, simply responded in a low voice, “Well Laura, it’s like this. If you stub your toe, you really notice it, but it is only a toe. But if your whole body gets stubbed, or shoved, you whole psyche knows it. You can then abandon the opportunity, or take a chance and change. Jack and I went to school together, but took very different paths for about ten years there-after. Our paths re-crossed. Two major things happened to me. Three really. I went to goal, but there I met one of the most important game changers ever of my life. I met someone, whom I found out was not an inmate, but spent more time inside than most inmates. He was a solitary monk. To me this was extraordinary, so I started paying attention to what he said and more importantly did. In a way, I became a disciple. The most important thing I learned was that where you are, is a lot less important than who you are. He had been a Buddhist forest monk in Thailand, and decided his home was not a temple in Thailand, but with people who may benefit from seeing his actions, and hear his thoughts, for the better. He does not pretend to know everything, but he helped me, which was no small feat. If I am the only person who benefited from his being somebody, rather than somewhere else, I rate his life a resounding success. After release, I tracked down Jack and his associate Jill to apologise for what led me to be incarcerated. And to make a long story short, Jack is a planner, a schemer, and I am simply a doer. Jack as a planner makes judgements, which carry their own weights, and I have learned values that are set. I admire Jack immensely for what he does. With my new found but set values I fit in easily with the right sort of planners. We both serve but in different ways. People who neither plan nor who have values, to me simply seem to exist, and often border on being apathetic. Take you for example Laura. You were a cook serving a community, and mostly underwater at that. And today you did the sa
me voluntarily. We may not be that different. I guess it is like a calling to do the best we can wherever we may be. Which brings me to being here now with you. It is a pleasure for me to offer you tea, though that is not much I know. But at the same time, I can provide some peace and comfort for the Admiral and his wife, who also are doers and servants.”

  “And are you spending the night out here?”

  “The what mostly outweighs the where in this case. As you see, there is a large hammock here, that when outstretched blocks off the front door. Again, two purposes. I am quite comfortable. But enough about me. Are you returning to the US soon, or seeking a land change?”

  “I’ll let you know tomorrow. You’ll join us for breakfast, yes? Any time after dawn and I will be ready.”

  “Thank-you, kind lady. That would be nice. I will wait for the Admiral, though he and Miss Elizabeth usually rise early. Thank-you for your company, and I will see you in the morning.”

  Like most people who meet Alf, Laura was touched by this transformed man. Once a tough bikie, now a kind servant of and to humanity. She thought, what an amazing and eclectic mix of people I have met in the last two months. Almost surreal and incapable of simple analysis. But not something to have missed. The people involved, what they do and had done in a seemingly short time and all as a service. What next, I wonder are these people going to do?

  She had known few Australians before meeting Jack on board in the Pacific Ocean, but was now more than curious to know and see more. She had options to return to another ship that would be useful and fulfil a service, but that was perhaps pale when compared to seeking involvement with Alf and Jack here in Australia. Certainly, the social culture surrounding Jack’s and Alf’s activities was in sharp contrast to the submerged and confined daily cooking for 130 people. Maybe I could acquire some new skills should the opportunity present itself. New skills – really Laura what are you thinking? Where, or if ever, are you going to come across such a group of eclectic and highly motivated people, and indeed motivated for the good of all rather than greed for more in the pocket? She thought further. If Alf has pockets they are probably empty. His motivation is like that of a devoted Hare Krishna where dedication is so deep that it totally surpasses the sometimes-considered shallow pursuit of monetary gain. He appears dedicated to finding the needs, however obscure or obvious, of those he can assist, having an uncanny talent for second-guessing people’s situations. Of course, he does not tolerate fools, but readily sorts out genuine need from insignificant wants. But with Jack and family and associates he has little need to question and simply applies himself. Resolution – I need to find out more.

  Before sunup the kookaburras let everybody know that they were ready for another day, even if the human population thought otherwise. These meat eating birds were strong on early morning calling, and seemingly answering each other back. When all else was quiet, these birds were like devout Muslim muezzin calling others to prayer, or in their case exercising the lungs and vocal apparatus. Indeed, they often seem noisier than the loud speaker broadcasts from mosque minarets. Following this, the sulphur crested cockatoos took over ceremoniously with a rebellious cacophony at dawn to let everybody know that if the kookies did not wake you, they will and without regard to your habit of sleeping past dawn. “Hey man. It’s sunup time and time to eat. And we like the sound of ourselves, so be it. Get over it because we are not changing for you now or ever, no matter what.” Attitude combined with influence. One of the Australia’s stronger spirits. Kangaroos may fly on Qantas, but cockies fly across Australia.

  By the time the cockies were in full repertoire, Laura was sorting the kitchen thinking through menus with what was available. Bev, still riding with the excitement of the past few days, had made tea for herself, and asked Laura how she liked her coffee. Both took a few minutes together, with both offering suggestions, while checking ingredients. A mix of Australian and American breakfast staples was agreed upon, with both ladies doing what they do best.

  Not long after Ruth joined them and started helping where she could.

  “Nice to see you Ruth,” said Laura. “Top of the morning to you. How is Bob’s-Just-Fine this morning?”

  “Last time I saw, he was on the sofa, stirring slightly. Feeling neglected no doubt, and a little saddle sore. Poor man. He’ll get over it. I think I can sort him out if I can get him away from work for a while,” she said with a mixture of sarcasm as well as a touch of anticipation. “A bit of Australian sun might do him some good. Maybe a little boating and fishing? We’ll see.”

  “Sounds nice,” said Laura. “Thinking of something similar. Sailing above water should make for a pleasant change.”

  Breakfast was a simple choose-your-own from oatmeal, grits, nasi goreng, flat eggs, toast, tea and coffee.

  After the previous day’s adventure, ceremony and excitement, breakfast was like a quiet family affair, interspersed with a little small talk. For some it was overcoming tiredness and overindulgence, though no one was complaining.

  I made a relaxed informal speech again thanking everybody, and said that because the proceeds of the concert were in part coming to the Trust, the need for formalising a Wongala Trust board of directors now had a higher priority, and I was thinking of talking to Vincent about suitable candidates.

  Alf was first to leave, wanting to pack up the Admiral’s and Elizabeth’s bags into the Rolls. As usual, he quietly exited. Elizabeth thanked all for breakfast and for all the work done in arranging yesterday’s events, and ended by saying, “This has been one of the most extraordinary functions I have been part of, and by far the most enjoyable.” She quickly changed track, and catching Laura’s attention said, “Laura my dear, what are your plans? Would you care to visit us at our farm where Alf has been looking after Gordon and me so well these past few months?

  “I would. Thank-you Mrs Alexander, if it is alright with Alf.”

  No sooner said and Alf returned.

  Elizabeth never lost a beat. “Alf, would it be alright with you if Laura came back to spend some time with us at the farm?”

  “Miss Elizabeth, Admiral. Though I would enjoy the extra company, it is not for me to decide, but for you and Laura.”

  “Right then. Alf, would you kindly pack in Laura’s bags and we can travel together.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Back to business as usual. Within a week of opening the park Jill rang me and said that she and Alf were coming to visit us at Sunnybank. She said an assignment was available that should suit our expertise, and Sunnybank is the ideal place to coordinate its activities.

  It’s all very well to initiate and coordinate your own activities, something that had involved a considerable cost in time and energy of late. But now was the time to refocus on TaSMAN Group assignments.

  Simple? No. We were to liaise with both the Queensland Police and the Australian Federal Police. In effect, we were subcontracting to the AFP; the AFP being the lead policing agency in Australia when concerning counterfeit currency. And the Queensland Police were accumulating counterfeit currency in several suburbs across Brisbane. Jill explained that the Group had been contracted because firstly we were familiar with police procedures, as some of us were ex-police officers, and secondly because not currently being police officers gave us a degree of freedom to operate quickly and without bureaucratic restrictions. This was a high priority case with the full support of both the AFP and QP.

  The source of the counterfeit currency was obviously unknown, but history told us that in past times bikies had been involved in its distribution. Hence Alf was on the team, also Ruth. The group was to also include Susan and myself, and at our discretion others could be co-opted.

  Alf was now a past bikie, not a present one. But we needed him to be a present one. He beat us on this one. He had not worn leathers now for some years, but he knew exactly where to go to be fitted. He also needed a bike. He saddled up with Ruth and they were dust.

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  Morgan & Wa
cker was established in 1917 and is the oldest motorcycle dealership in Australia and the world’s oldest Harley-Davidson dealership outside the USA. It was old times for Alf though for Ruth, her big Honda was a little out of place. She did not let that bother her though, and she and Alf entered the shop. No point in having leathers without the ride, so Alf and Ruth were sizing up the collection of new and used bikes on offer. Ruth was more interested in the new bikes, while Alf thought the second-hand bikes were more in keeping with the look needed.

  Alf was casually checking out the used bikes when he heard from behind him, “Wouldn’t you prefer a Rocker Custom Cruiser?” and knew instantly who it was and why it was said.

  Alf turned and said, “Mick. What are you doing here?” and they embraced as old friends having long since gone their own ways.

  “I work here. And what brings you here, and where have you been? You’re looking good, and who is that dominatrix red head you came in with?”

  “I wouldn’t call her that, and recommend you not let her hear you call her that. But she can more than hold her own. And an old Cruiser, haven’t seen one for a while.”

  “Point taken. How long has it been? A few years now? You know when you went south it was like you just walked out the door leaving everything behind, and that included your bike. I could have sold it but could not bring myself to do it. How soon would you like it? I could have it fully serviced with new tyres by tomorrow, say early afternoon. That is if you are interested.”

  “Deal. And I need some leathers. Here she comes.”

  “Ruth. Let me introduce you to my old friend Mick. We went to school together, and then some more. Mick, this is Ruth.”

  “Pleased to meet you Ruth. I see you are in good company.”

  Alf said, “Shall we look at leathers?” and the three of them checked out jackets, gloves and helmets.

  Alf then said, “Mick. Who is around? As you know I have not ridden in Brisbane for yonks and want to know who to look out for.”