tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85408160934138883022024-02-20T10:47:43.715-08:00 Sheila's Tavern fotolithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15707211993990153467noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540816093413888302.post-31699528445486355792014-06-28T04:04:00.000-07:002014-06-28T04:14:02.712-07:00McGettigans<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Sheila’s morphed into McGettigans in October, 1992 and is well known to the people in their mid-thirties group today. At that time most of this group, carrying their birth certificates or bus passes to show their age, were in their teens, from 12 - 17. No one over 18 was allowed entry. It was best known for its supervised underage parties on a Friday night and with the first of the “HSC Results “parties in NSW.<br />
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It was first suggested as a trial by a NSW policeman, Larry, who did a lot of work with youth on the streets at the Cross who had just been released from detention.<br />
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“Lyn, Brian,” he said, “there is a big need for a safe place for kids to go. Somewhere with supervision and without alcohol. For all kids, not just for those with problems.”<br />
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So McGettigan’s was born.<br />
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As reported in the SMH “Nights For Teen Dance But Alcohol Strictly Out.”<br />
“A North Sydney nightclub has broken new ground by getting the support of police, council and the licensing courts to run weekly alcohol-free dance nights for under 18‘s. The licensing courts have not done this before, have not allowed clubs to deregulate, but we have the support of the North Sydney police and the Mayor, Gerry Nolan,’ Mrs. Mcgettigan said.’Something has to be done to provide entertainment for the youngsters,’ she added. Mrs. McGettigan said she and her husband would be on duty at the club to supervise the nights and would organize fleets of taxis to be there before the 12:30am closure. The club’s doormen would see youngsters into the cabs. Once the youngsters are in the club they will not be allowed to have pass outs to go on to the streets. But the club has a large garden at the back.”<br />
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Little did we know what a minefield we would be walking into and what misconceptions it would produce, especially in the mind of one headmistress of a girls’ school on the lower North Shore. She was convinced it was a hellhole where drugs, alcohol, brawls and heavens knows what else would take place. It actually turned out to be a place where all school kids, particularly those on the Lower North Shore could meet in safety. It was securely policed by the management, with the help of my mate Bernice, and the NSW police.<br />
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To be continued...<br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Do you have a McGettigans story to tell? Please leave a comment or get in touch <a href="http://www.writersjourney.com.au/contact-writers-journey/">HERE</a>.</span><br />
<br /><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The content for this blog are excerpts from the forthcoming <i>Tales Of A Publican's Wife</i>, by Lyn McGettigan. Editor Jan Cornall and Lyn are preparing the book for publication in 2014.</span></span></div>
fotolithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15707211993990153467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540816093413888302.post-81978959445932708572014-03-15T18:59:00.001-07:002014-03-17T13:11:52.598-07:00Sir Lunchalot<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Another excerpt from <i>Tales of A Publicans Wife</i> by Lyn McGettigan. Read more about her upcoming book <a href="http://sheilastavern.blogspot.com.au/2013/12/the-magic-that-was-sheilas.html">here.</a></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">The term 'Sir Lunchalot' was popular before it was immortalised by the
lengthy political Chinese banquets of the 80s and 90s and the political
shenanigans of the that era. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">We had our 'Sir Lunchalots' and
they did the term justice. Sheila’s drew the white collar workers of North
Sydney for what was commonly called, 'the long lunch'. Various government Departments did the tradition proud, the
bank employees had to be hauled out by their respective bosses and told “lunch
is one hour, boys and girls.” </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">In fact, to reinforce this, often the banks would
book a long table of 60, one for the 12 noon sitting, one for the 1pm sitting, to get them in and out and back to work on time. But the 'Lunchalot' boys made them all look like workaholics. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Long lunches features in the TV series The Sopranos.</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">These guys, generally a
core group of four, held very responsible jobs in four big corporations. They would
get to work no later than 7am in the morning, which meant that they got most of
their paperwork, office administration and phone calls completed by 11am. Their
secretaries knew where to find them, but rarely were they interrupted in their
pursuit of conviviality.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"> The real business of the day began about noon. Today it
would be called 'networking' as three three of these guys worked in inter-related
industries, and the forth was a public servant. There were also the bosses of the
interrelated businesses such as telecommunications and banking and the guys
were all known to each other and were happy in each other’s company. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">I wasn’t
privy to the business discussed, but there seemed to be utmost amiability.
Billy, the wine waiter, was kept busy. So much so that he was constantly
getting up from his traditional afternoon schooners of VB with The Boiler to
replace their empty wine bottle. Mind you, the guys showed their appreciation
handsomely. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">So, I’m sure that there was some business benefit to the lunches,
but there was a huge benefit to Sheila’s and to Billy. The guys would often
drink a dozen bottles of wine between noon and 8pm before their drivers came to
take them home. Their wives may not have been happy, but they had nothing to
worry about, other than inebriated spouses. These guys had principles and morals
and the attractive girls that were a feature of the place were simply that –
female drinkers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even the fashion
parades we ran on a regular basis did not distract them too much from their conviviality.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Sheila’s blokes came from all walks of life and because of Sheila’s went
their many, sometimes shattered, ways. Some got married because of Sheila’s,
some were married at Sheila’s some were divorced because of Sheila’s. But all
agreed that it was 'the place to be in ‘83' and for a good many years after.</span> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">This content for this blog are excerpts from the forthcoming <i>Tales Of A Publican's Wife</i>, by Lyn McGettigan. Editor Jan Cornall and author Lyn McGettigan are preparing the book for publication in 2014.</span><br />
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Please leave a comment or get in touch <a href="http://www.writersjourney.com.au/contact-writers-journey/">HERE</a> if you have a Sheila's story to tell.<br />
<br />
(c) Lyn McGettigan 2013 </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US"></span></div>
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fotolithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15707211993990153467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540816093413888302.post-79295444144039647062014-02-25T13:00:00.005-08:002014-03-17T13:08:45.131-07:00Sheila's Blokes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Another excerpt from <i>Tales of A Publicans Wife</i> by Lyn McGettigan. Read more about her upcoming book <a href="http://sheilastavern.blogspot.com.au/2013/12/the-magic-that-was-sheilas.html">here.</a></span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Brian the Publican always said, “where the girls are the boys are” and
how right he was. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_lJIZUEloG4tPpyVPKss6GwjaYyw1tWw2QOTy6zuSbdJc6n8WwGOKUmVPqFBf9lsCOAZbu1UbOz5XDxLRtdDU9cJjnU1I0GMgFyZMEsLgQETs0R-nZaoc_BEeTXwB_hDQfPCWATYe2iLd/s1600/80s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_lJIZUEloG4tPpyVPKss6GwjaYyw1tWw2QOTy6zuSbdJc6n8WwGOKUmVPqFBf9lsCOAZbu1UbOz5XDxLRtdDU9cJjnU1I0GMgFyZMEsLgQETs0R-nZaoc_BEeTXwB_hDQfPCWATYe2iLd/s1600/80s.jpg" height="302" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">The girls flocked in, all dressed to the nines and the boys
followed even faster. We had young, single, attractive blokes, middle-aged
blokes who still thought “they had it” and perhaps they did. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">There is something
attractive about a good-looking, 40 something bloke. Then there were the
“red-eye specials”. I call them this because they could be any age and the
yellow eyeballs with red road maps gave away one of the loves of their lives. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">We had the older “sophisicates”— well-dressed, well-heeled with well-brushed
egos. We had hospitality workers, advertising types, bankers, television and
radio personalities. They were all there. “Sheila’s” was the place to be.</span></div>
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOYHyCATMthocDGPH3VuNJe865D9oh845cRS7jael9ntSiFp_bm1XU50R4cEOhorIVre2DgeL-QXGUgvRTS-sI4d-2SL-JATRed6CLCIsadXW3izV1jTRPYBtFY0UPaIoYnUUsoDObNls/s1600/Sheilas+Coasters+Boyys+Meet+Girls+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOYHyCATMthocDGPH3VuNJe865D9oh845cRS7jael9ntSiFp_bm1XU50R4cEOhorIVre2DgeL-QXGUgvRTS-sI4d-2SL-JATRed6CLCIsadXW3izV1jTRPYBtFY0UPaIoYnUUsoDObNls/s1600/Sheilas+Coasters+Boyys+Meet+Girls+2.jpg" height="320" width="309" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">There was the bloke who took a shine to me, or maybe I was putting his
attention on a higher plane than it deserved. It didn’t matter that the
“Boiler” </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">(the elderly lady who was employed to arrange flowers and check the table settings),</span> knew his name and game and was always close by to keep an eye on him.
It didn’t matter that I was married and Brian was usually visible. If not seen,
heard, for he always had a good story to tell and an audience to tell it to.
This day this bloke bought his scotch and soda and as I was standing near the
bar, asked me if I would like a drink.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Well, is the Pope a Catholic? Of course I said yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had about half an hour before Brian came
back from taking the kids to sport, and was due to pick me up. The </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">“Boiler” was having a middy and a Winnie Red with Bill the Wine Waiter.
Our friend thought he was safe, no such luck, The “Boiler’s” beady eyes
shrivelled. She was on alert! He started with the line that was guaranteed to
win any girl’s heart.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">“You’re not a bad sort.” </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Ok. Right. Sip of red wine. Another
swallow of scotch and soda. Where is this going? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">“Thank you,” I replied.</span><span lang="EN-US"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Repeat. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">“You’re not a bad sort but there is one thing. Why don’t you
take elocution lessons and learn to speak without that accent. You’re not in
the bush now.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">I took another sip. He took another sip, pleased with himself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">“Why don’t you finish your drink?” I said. “You’re barred.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">I still have a bush accent. No-one has tried to improve it again.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: small;">This content for this blog are excerpts from the forthcoming <i>Tales Of A Publican's Wife</i>, by Lyn McGettigan. Editor Jan Cornall and Lyn are preparing the book for publication in 2014.</span><br />
<br />
Please leave a comment or get in touch <a href="http://www.writersjourney.com.au/contact-writers-journey/">HERE</a> if you have a Sheila's story to tell.<br />
<br />
(c) Lyn McGettigan 2013 </span></div>
</div>
fotolithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15707211993990153467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540816093413888302.post-22635121741597233432014-01-28T00:54:00.001-08:002014-03-17T13:04:54.748-07:00My Mate, Bernice.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Another excerpt from <i>Tales of A Publicans Wife</i> by Lyn McGettigan. Read more about her upcoming book <a href="http://sheilastavern.blogspot.com.au/2013/12/the-magic-that-was-sheilas.html">here.</a></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5NyZe0PvjXMUo5swIrtI-AsN-eDDFfwYgnUplZxeWiALcrrKGOSXyb1CxA4meLzG3O9qxysLIHu0H03gBuqPSMY4Mc-YSWNrFkRcFwGzYdJZcBEt6XnFyzdE3leC9K4nyV0UwPnxAJFVW/s1600/Sheilas+Coasters+Good+Company+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5NyZe0PvjXMUo5swIrtI-AsN-eDDFfwYgnUplZxeWiALcrrKGOSXyb1CxA4meLzG3O9qxysLIHu0H03gBuqPSMY4Mc-YSWNrFkRcFwGzYdJZcBEt6XnFyzdE3leC9K4nyV0UwPnxAJFVW/s1600/Sheilas+Coasters+Good+Company+2.jpg" height="297" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
<br />
The story continues...<br />
<br />
Throughout my years at the Union Hotel at North Sydney and
especially during my days at Sheila’s, I had, and still have, a good mate
called Bernice.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Bernice and I met
when our kids were at St. Mary’s Primary School at Ridge Street, North Sydney.
Her daughter Briony was the same age as my daughter Kate. They met on their
first day of kindergarten. Kate had been refusing to go to school because her
mates, old Jack and Eric, from the Public Bar, told Kate she didn’t have
to go to school. They would teach her all she needed to know. Kate believed
them, after all they were her mates. On most days she would sit in the public
Bar with them for half an hour and they would, all three, have philosophical
chats over her pink lemonade and packet of Smith’s Crisps and their middies.
Consequently, she was not happy on her first day. Her elder sister, Danielle, a
perfect pupil, walked in a lady-like way to school. On this day Kate, in her
school uniform, sat down in the first gutter she came to and refused to
move on. Brian the Publican was taking her to school as I was at Ryde Tafe, enrolling for a 4 year, part-time Hotel Course.As well as the
recalcritant Kate, he had the lady-like Danielle and the baby, “Buddha” in his stroller. <br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJspF2yfcNgRiZkWm43EZQF-I7ntK2e4VFQiEDKFwN7j4m7ZUYbJmpEVTiAJ7l4Odr5YoGmG3_VZEmvbFWWvNe_0YUg3iBOhxBufYZrl27leFyURfpNSIXt9zVNziVYpNS7CIlK8KlfEIt/s1600/the-little-boy-and-the-old-man-by-crispy-gypsy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJspF2yfcNgRiZkWm43EZQF-I7ntK2e4VFQiEDKFwN7j4m7ZUYbJmpEVTiAJ7l4Odr5YoGmG3_VZEmvbFWWvNe_0YUg3iBOhxBufYZrl27leFyURfpNSIXt9zVNziVYpNS7CIlK8KlfEIt/s1600/the-little-boy-and-the-old-man-by-crispy-gypsy.jpg" height="220" width="320" /></a></div>
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Brian the Publican managed to move her on. She moved, only
to encounter the headmistress, Sister Ellen, at the school gate. Sister Ellen
was a trooper in a million! After enduring a kick aimed at her shins, followed
by a left hook, she took Kate to her classroom.( Before continuing, I would
like to say they emerged hand-in-hand at lunchtime, and to this day are
good friends).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Bernice's </span>son, Dylan, and my
son, “Budds” also became firm friends. Budds was so nick-named because he was rotund, but on being asked at St.
Joseph’s College, Hunter’s Hill the origin of his nickname, replied, “It’s
because I pray a lot!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Went down a treat
at that school! Anyway Dylan and Budds became best mates. The children used to
play together upstairs at the hotel after school until Bernice arrived to pick
Dylan and Briony up. Bernice and I became best mates after an incident at St.
Mary’s.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicxWZWJB8jmFK9_8X2j-MLON8R62HUAYSQrY1g_q049BH-vyWlgKkLs0A4GJkD3IIMfQPD96lkOfmJLQDHMiEEkq9nOMw_fZ7b1Gw7ObHa6wZdmXsHohf_y3QxWp6T89Dl-Z8So5HwqYaP/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicxWZWJB8jmFK9_8X2j-MLON8R62HUAYSQrY1g_q049BH-vyWlgKkLs0A4GJkD3IIMfQPD96lkOfmJLQDHMiEEkq9nOMw_fZ7b1Gw7ObHa6wZdmXsHohf_y3QxWp6T89Dl-Z8So5HwqYaP/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>
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One morning I arrived at the school to hear an altercation
coming from around the side of the Church where the mothers used to park.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You can’t park here again.” said an elderly male voice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why not?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>replied an
irate<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>female voice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think that’s Bern, I said to myself as I rounded the
corner, all guns blazing. My paternal grandmother was a suffragette and the
fight to right all wrongs comes out strongly in me, so strongly that I think
all grandmothers, maternal and paternal, from way back must have been
suffragettes! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I came around the corner to find Bern and an old priest standing
toe-to-toe.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘What do you mean she can’t park here? She’s a working
mother! She has two children to support on her own. She can’t afford parking
fees!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘I don’t care’, said the old priest.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t worry, Bern," I said, "you can park in the hotel car
park”.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So started our friendship! I’d like to relate a few instances from our history that will explain why we have remained good mates.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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One of the customers at Sheila’s was a lovely girl called Mary. We had arranged to have a night out with her and met up at the bottom
bar at Sheila’s about 8pm. Brian the Publican was being an angel again and minding all the kids. We had a couple of drinks there and decided to go to the San Francisco Grill
at the Hilton for dinner. The Hilton was an institution in those days. It had
the Marble Bar, which is still there, and the Grill.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSavRUbx6Le387p44lqgtS4ZPyWp4swXrKmvL9-k8mRw5Dr-4uuV6l2UIi1vJzHEQeh0gv83F1u8wO24UegDL45fRbwfD-dmbJwPCR-0EBRvooDQ38icMCRu-Os9BnbHT3ojIvfRyHXwAa/s1600/img_3053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSavRUbx6Le387p44lqgtS4ZPyWp4swXrKmvL9-k8mRw5Dr-4uuV6l2UIi1vJzHEQeh0gv83F1u8wO24UegDL45fRbwfD-dmbJwPCR-0EBRvooDQ38icMCRu-Os9BnbHT3ojIvfRyHXwAa/s1600/img_3053.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The San Francisco
Grill was famous for its “silver service”. This is a form of service whereby
waiters serve all main course dishes to the table from<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a silver platter. They served the meal to
your plate (already in place in front of you), from the left side and
cleared from the right. You had to remember to lean slightly to the right when
serving was in progress and to the left when clearing! They also had “gueridon”
service. This was a cart wheeled to your table and speciality dishes
were cooked in front of you, or in the case of cheese or bread, you made your
selections from it. Two dishes that were famous for gueridon style preparation were
Chateau Briand, a beef fillet, which was finished off and carved right there and Crepes Suzette, a pancake which was sauced, flamed, and served in front of you. This may sound very grand but the
“piece de resistance” was the signature “dish”. A small silver tray in the
shape of the San Francisco Bridge was presented with coffee. On it had been
placed dry ice and on this were four or five chocolate-coated peppermint ice
cream balls! This was Sydney in the days of Romanos, Pruniers, the Silver Spade
Room, The Coachman. Dining was an event you anticipated, dressed for and thoroughly enjoyed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The guests around
you were often as varied and “colourful” as the menu.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRsN7Gr0s5FGlA3N-O0jjMbph94SfxGtY_fEkEzfXqkknBT3QUnPSMEEY_2e9Bjuq6M8vnEnzh0EVEtowbh8K-uZPA9t24uHVk1h6mDowlvfNWCKweUp4oopywgWts3d-BRNmKe9FLZ7hi/s1600/Crepes_suzette_729x572-620x0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRsN7Gr0s5FGlA3N-O0jjMbph94SfxGtY_fEkEzfXqkknBT3QUnPSMEEY_2e9Bjuq6M8vnEnzh0EVEtowbh8K-uZPA9t24uHVk1h6mDowlvfNWCKweUp4oopywgWts3d-BRNmKe9FLZ7hi/s1600/Crepes_suzette_729x572-620x0.jpg" height="250" width="320" /></a></div>
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We decided to have a pre-dinner drink at the cocktail bar
outside the Grill. We were all “dressed up” and looked very attractive,
even if I say it myself! We had been seated for a while with our martinis in
front of us and had polished off about three, when a guy who had been sitting
at the end of the bar, moved up and asked if he could join us. He was closest
to Mary, so she politely replied,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No. We are having a quiet drink and a chat and would
appreciate it if you would go away.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No chance.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After retreating for a while and keeping his eyes fastened
on the three of us, he thought he would try again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No,” said Mary, “we have told you that we are having a
quiet drink. We do not want to be disturbed”.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The third time he tried he said nothing. He perched on the
stool beside her. He was ignored. Then he tried to join in our conversation. Mary very quietly gave us a wink and then opened her handbag and
casually laid it on the bar between herself and the pest.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The guy went white, spluttered in his drink and knocked the
heavy bar chair over in his haste to get away. Bernice and I looked at his
retreating figure, looked at Mary and laughed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How did you manage that Mary?’ asked Bernice,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mary gave a little smile and pushed her open handbag over to
us. In it was a pistol.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It wasn’t only blokes who were part of the underworld!<br />
<br />
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Often we would go to the Bourbon and Beefsteak in the Cross.
The Bourbon was another Sydney institution, particularly in the 60’s. It was
rumoured that it had been set up by the American Government and that the boss
there was ex CIA. His job was to garner any intelligence he could from
the American servicemen who were on leave from Vietnam. It was very American — there was Bourbon of course and the best hamburgers in town! It introduced Australia to
the American way of eating salads before a meal. However, it could not get us
drinking water before and during a meal, The Australian attitude was, “Waste of
good drinking time” or “It will rust your insides". The interior had a large
eating area with white tablecloths on the right when you walked in. There was a
maître d’ in a dinner jacket and a very large menu. To the left was a long bar
with stools all along, tables and a dance floor. The best feature was
a piano at the end of the bar with enough space for people to sit around. It played jazz, generally the popular kind of Ella Fitzgerald, Tony
Bennett, Frank Sinatra. It was the place to be and such fun!</div>
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I started going there in the 60’s when Sydney girls went
out with the visiting servicemen. Usually you met at the American Club, which
held dances to facilitate meetings. It was unheard of for a “nice” girl to meet
any American in a bar! The Cross went all out to cater for these boys, with
strip clubs, gambling dens, brothels. There were drugs, but they were something
that was unknown to the average young Australian who would not have known what they looked like, or if an exchange was
happening. The American male also brought super good manners when taking
out a girl and always gave them a gift on first meeting. In hindsight, I can
understand the furore during WW2 when the Australian men got upset when the
girls flocked to the servicemen then!</div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bernice and I often
went to the B&B and felt extremely comfortable. This, however, was the 80’s and the
clientele had changed. Instead of servicemen, there were all types — underworld,
police, regulars from the Cross, hospitality employees, anyone really. We were
lucky enough to know them all, from the big doorman, to most of the
clientele. We wouldn’t get there until after midnight and the place was
buzzing! This night Bern and I sat at the bar in our usual seats and ordered
our usual drinks — scotch and soda for Bern, martinis for me. For some reason,
we never had to pay for our drinks! We put it down to being in the hospitality business (Sheila's was raging at that time) but I think that it was due more to the fact
that we knew most of the “goodies and baddies” in town!</div>
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We began chatting to the barman and to the people next to us,
and as one does, got into an interesting conversation. The fellow next to me
admired my ring. </div>
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“There’s a lovely stone in that," he said.</div>
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“Yes”, I replied, “I’m giving it to my older daughter. I
have two daughters. I would love to find another one of the same size for her.”</div>
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With that he whipped out his notebook.</div>
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“I’ll just take details”, he said, “What size is it, what
clarity?” </div>
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So I went along with this and told him. When wanted my contact information I realized that he was serious.</div>
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“Thanks,” I said, “Let me think about it and I’ll let you
know next time I see you up here.”</div>
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“No worries," he said, “I know what you want. I can get it
overnight and you’ll have it the next day.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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It was a common thing for “people in the know” to order
things that would be stolen to suit. I didn’t want to be part of this
scene, but I knew a bloke who did. His particular band of mates specialized in
stealing clothes. One day this bloke was passing through Coffs Harbour on his
way to see his parents on the Gold Coast. He was walking along Coffs street
when he was passed by two blokes in white overalls wheeling a large clothes
stand. They winked at him, not a word was exchanged, and the guys went
whistling along on their merry way. Another placed order, another satisfied
customer!</div>
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It was a 'wink and a nod' type of society. There were boundaries
between the criminals and the citizens and people generally stayed within them.
It was as if there was also a barrier of osmosis, and sometimes one could slip
in and out without any harm.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89DGj22pO4S3EVsy0Yf-3bTFv3z10LLrBqoc1WiT72SQVFBC4I5UY0-JS0nkwxPolv9br2mHGqAS68XyxWD0z0l9cYhfroY25vqdqYAWSO8TGQRo3VWHKOgkUImdKtr4RjD-zo1j6ezIQ/s1600/Sheilas+Coasters+Comp+yr+Life+crop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89DGj22pO4S3EVsy0Yf-3bTFv3z10LLrBqoc1WiT72SQVFBC4I5UY0-JS0nkwxPolv9br2mHGqAS68XyxWD0z0l9cYhfroY25vqdqYAWSO8TGQRo3VWHKOgkUImdKtr4RjD-zo1j6ezIQ/s1600/Sheilas+Coasters+Comp+yr+Life+crop.jpg" height="320" width="303" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">The content for this blog are excerpts from the forthcoming <i>Tales Of A Publican's Wife</i>, by Lyn McGettigan, edited by Jan Cornall. Jan and Lyn are preparing the book for publication in 2014.</span></span><br />
<br />
Please leave a comment or get in touch <a href="http://www.writersjourney.com.au/contact-writers-journey/">HERE</a> if you have a Sheila's story to tell.<br />
<br />
(c) Lyn McGettigan 2013 </div>
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fotolithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15707211993990153467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540816093413888302.post-1881823693374082122013-12-13T00:02:00.000-08:002014-03-17T13:06:40.693-07:00Sheila’s Coasters<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbb2iDYmIa_MwPl51wBf7dG5QhSRccWQTPTAHhB6gW7h00usjaPegcDPTZmcY30fu_vZ01AIAlbwj0V9qJeCcESO_ip_PwRA1uHT2zD9_7yJLEHXGujIEpxrge_f96SPORo0WR36TkqNIt/s1600/Sheila's+Ad+SmH+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbb2iDYmIa_MwPl51wBf7dG5QhSRccWQTPTAHhB6gW7h00usjaPegcDPTZmcY30fu_vZ01AIAlbwj0V9qJeCcESO_ip_PwRA1uHT2zD9_7yJLEHXGujIEpxrge_f96SPORo0WR36TkqNIt/s320/Sheila's+Ad+SmH+2.jpg" height="146" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
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This was the 80’s. There were no thoughts of discrimination.
People seemed to get on pretty well. If they didn’t they said so. Probably a
good thing. We had the most interesting coasters in town, thanks to the
combined brains and imagination of some of the guys at the Union Hotel at North
Sydney.</div>
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One afternoon, while Sheila's was still in the planing stages, Kevin, Stan and Brian the
Publican were in the Corner bar discussing the exciting new prospect that was
to be Sheila’s.</div>
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“What are you doing about coasters, Brian?” asked Kevin.</div>
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“Oh, I suppose I’ll get them from the brewery for free.”
answered Brian.</div>
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“No mate’’ said Kevin, “I think we should design some”.</div>
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I was walking by at this point and they said to me,</div>
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“What's the colour, Lyn?’ </div>
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“Shocking pink”, I answered.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiofMUjU6eMYc_qBWupaAVtBBh26Lwdkr3EDPStzjlLvJfrTx6CwCDQ-KPc-AgUw5NtZbJ_2NSdrVAFuuHSeGySUoff3hVyVRkoZK1NLex7y8xcsOq7YhwhuwiJzxToH17SyHD-m90OpFlo/s1600/Sheilas+coaster+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiofMUjU6eMYc_qBWupaAVtBBh26Lwdkr3EDPStzjlLvJfrTx6CwCDQ-KPc-AgUw5NtZbJ_2NSdrVAFuuHSeGySUoff3hVyVRkoZK1NLex7y8xcsOq7YhwhuwiJzxToH17SyHD-m90OpFlo/s320/Sheilas+coaster+1.jpg" height="272" width="320" /></a></div>
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With that we decided that the front logo should feature a
lady’s hand holding a champagne glass, a rose and a big picture hat. We thought
that that would say it all. Stan and Kevin got to work. Pretty
soon they had enlisted two other mates, Bruce and Allan from J&K printing.
At that time, coasters only had printing on the outside. I clearly remember
Kevin picking up a coaster that was on the bar and saying,</div>
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“There should be something on the back. You always turn a
coaster over.”</div>
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So were born “The ladies of Sheila’s”<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAod25fWgVRH9MOc_9zopRov1GoeAeqklRXn8L7IZQCwQ4r7BTTSZ1wua0XPQME_HDYo2In_1GE-f_T-jBzvlJgvdsioDGv2wyXMQwYpwSfgOAAoY6yBkO2i7YHapkexb8cD4s5qcsZK_/s1600/Sheilas+Coasters+New+Hat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAod25fWgVRH9MOc_9zopRov1GoeAeqklRXn8L7IZQCwQ4r7BTTSZ1wua0XPQME_HDYo2In_1GE-f_T-jBzvlJgvdsioDGv2wyXMQwYpwSfgOAAoY6yBkO2i7YHapkexb8cD4s5qcsZK_/s320/Sheilas+Coasters+New+Hat.jpg" height="320" width="319" /></a></div>
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The result is some of those you see here. There were 20 in total. They were very popular and became collector’s items. Within the
first 6 months, 400,000 had been printed. It cost a fortune in postage to send
them to collectors in Australia and overseas, but they epitomised the spirit of Sheila’s.</div>
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">This content for this blog are excerpts from the forthcoming <i>Tales Of A Publican's Wife</i>, by Lyn McGettigan.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Editor Jan Cornall and Lyn are preparing the book for publication in 2014.</span><br />
<br />
Please leave a comment or get in touch <a href="http://www.writersjourney.com.au/contact-writers-journey/">HERE</a> if you have a Sheila's story to tell.<br />
<br />
(c) Lyn McGettigan 2013 <br />
</div>
</div>
fotolithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15707211993990153467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540816093413888302.post-27312994506581456672013-12-12T23:40:00.002-08:002014-03-17T13:07:03.171-07:00 Sheila's Opening Night - A Blue Bruiser<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
Opening night arrived. It was 1983, May or June, I can't quite remember. The place was
ready. The invitations had gone out; some declined (the local member for
Bennelong- John Howard being one), the staff were all in place; the pink coasters
were on the table; pink napkins and tablecloths on the dining; room tables set
for 100 diners.</div>
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Chef Bob, who had broken his leg the day before
(giving a new meaning to “break a leg") was in a wheelchair directing the
cooking, starting with hors d’oeuvres for 500. The bar staff was behind the two
enormous bars. The Usefuls were on the floor - 10
of them, ready to pick up glasses. Video screen on, band in the band room,
Brian the Publican, Crowie, Col Joye, Kevin and David were enjoying a beer before the 8pm
opening.</div>
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Not so me. I had been delegated the job of “doorwoman” along with Bob, The Lady Killer<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and Paddy the Irish Street Fighter, who had
fended for himself on the hard streets of Liverpool. An unlikely trio, but all
formidable in our own right!</div>
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“How are you guys?” I asked as I approached the door in my red
business suit and high heels. Appropriate dress!</div>
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"Have you looked outside, Lyn?” remarked Bob.</div>
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I looked outside.</div>
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Sheila’s had a curving ramp edged with palm trees that stretched
from the front door to the street one floor below. The ramp was filled with people standing four abreast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went to the windows
flanking the top bar and looked again. The line continued 500 yards along Berry
Street, then angled into Miller Street and out of sight.</div>
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“Looks like we’ll have a good night,” I said, “Don’t forget
the dress code.”<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZkEm4aEzrZ1FPRzvHmgoYciKWaxB2_m-dmh1g9pY7WpJvgRDmKKydXYOM4g_z_wn5D6SbWWHoF1aFZouGwOsRg3IHZx84q1cCg1zSGoDbWjauBrnyiW2E8qKG8qd-7C1bzjeSzPgSLn4/s1600/80s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZkEm4aEzrZ1FPRzvHmgoYciKWaxB2_m-dmh1g9pY7WpJvgRDmKKydXYOM4g_z_wn5D6SbWWHoF1aFZouGwOsRg3IHZx84q1cCg1zSGoDbWjauBrnyiW2E8qKG8qd-7C1bzjeSzPgSLn4/s1600/80s.jpg" height="302" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We had a very strict dress code —for the guys; collared
shirt, trousers (no jeans) leather shoes (no runners). In those days girls
always dressed up to go out so no dress code for the girls. Brian the Publican’s philosophy
was that where the good sorts went, the guys would follow. He was right.</div>
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The doors opened.
Some of the guests had the official pink invitation, others had the verbal
“Brian invited us” invitation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No-one
was refused entry! We began cloaking coats and directed the patrons to the
bottom bar and conservatory.</div>
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I stayed on the door until 10 pm and then thought it was time to join the party. The guys had the drift of the
dress code and besides, the local priest; the brothers who had
taught Brian the Publican, and the nuns, who had
taught our children were in there. Maybe I should keep an eye on them and make sure
that they were ok.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhShlbtl7fA2BbNaEEHPCEaIUzc_8AUdYdscM56kEAbVbx7KLAOsF4alvCvoRBJrtS-P6LekfKfeZQHauh6aGxPt61iOn3XGuKzVNRe2FwoqagA30uWNQdr9Senc8EoOEhxy62TJSqi2jpj/s1600/party01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhShlbtl7fA2BbNaEEHPCEaIUzc_8AUdYdscM56kEAbVbx7KLAOsF4alvCvoRBJrtS-P6LekfKfeZQHauh6aGxPt61iOn3XGuKzVNRe2FwoqagA30uWNQdr9Senc8EoOEhxy62TJSqi2jpj/s1600/party01.jpg" /></a></div>
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The party was in full swing as all parties are when the grog
and food are free. However, as things go, there is always a greedy group. They had stationed themselves in the prime position- at the end of the
bottom bar and in front of the kitchen exit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They couldn’t believe their luck; free food
and drinks and they were first in!</div>
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The evening wore on. The alcohol held out
but the food didn’t, despite the chef’s team emptying the coolrooms and cooking
everything in sight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Behind the bar the
drip trays - the aluminium trays under the beer taps that catch any overflow
beer - had been emptied three times. Each time they were emptied an purple-blue ethyl dye solution had to be sloshed in, so that the contaminated waste had
to tipped out after it had been measured. This was a health directive and was
strictly enforced by the health inspectors, because in the old days, it was
tipped back into the kegs and resold.</div>
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As a note of interest, Jean, my mother-in-law told me about the “heart starter”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
nip measures for spirits, a silver cup-like pourer that held one nip- 50 mls or
half a nip-25 mls, also had to be upended over a tray of ethyl dye, but before
this was law, the left-over spirits from the untreated<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>drip tray were emptied into a special bottle.
This bottle was kept for the alcoholics who were first through the doors when
they opened. One shot of this, their hearts started again, and the trembling in
their hands stopped- hence the name “heart starter”!</div>
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This night, as the trays were emptied, the bottle holding the
dye made by mixing ethyl dye tablets and water in a bottle, was empty. “I’ll
get you some,” a Useful told the barmaid as he bent down to the cupboard under
the sink and put the large plastic bottle containing the tablets on the top of
the bar. He then showed some initiative. Somewhere, somehow in the adrenalin
of the night he thought,” this could happen again tonight.” So he tipped out
enough tablets to fill a saucer and left it on top of the bar above the sink
while he put the plastic bottle back.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk5fKoOijUX6QpVKmx-wZtJBdYrlwxyqneDeyW3LXWpHPnGxiqELHrgpC3rQBDj8IQPqeVOK0ZccXYenUj1wmcs_ceEYBJkZwavJ70NLa5Wp8fkoNn0iq7XjsSFY4pVZ5h41sJtclBJdc8/s1600/lolly_smartieblue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk5fKoOijUX6QpVKmx-wZtJBdYrlwxyqneDeyW3LXWpHPnGxiqELHrgpC3rQBDj8IQPqeVOK0ZccXYenUj1wmcs_ceEYBJkZwavJ70NLa5Wp8fkoNn0iq7XjsSFY4pVZ5h41sJtclBJdc8/s1600/lolly_smartieblue.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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Meanwhile, our merry little barflies at the ends of the bar
missed this. They were too busy watching the kitchen for the next tray of food
to come out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After grabbing a bit more
food as the waitress<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> passed by,
they turned to the bar and their eyes lit up.</div>
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“Look guys”, chortled John, one of the group, “They’ve even
got some lollies for us!”</div>
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“Best place ever this,” enthused Allan.<br />
<br />
With that the Greedy Eight
jostled for the saucer and managed to grab a handful each. They swallowed them.
Next minute - pandemonium! They were frothing at the mouth! Their lips
were blue! They looked at each other, started screaming ”Blue Murder”! And then
stopped stunned! Eight pairs of eyes had seen eight sets of blue teeth! I have
never seen men part a crowd so quickly and head for the gents -
rocket-propelled!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have never known
men to stay in a toilet so long or to come out with their lips so tightly
pressed together!</div>
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These guys had no hope of picking up a Sheila at Sheila's that night!<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZazBge7L5-xkXBn2ULVMUDe5K3vZjZfxm8hGNj9hoFLtybPoUoXAfODYAuos5OmzcAmNd9gOEHepFwCHZU_dDIWV0EWVn8CS3WT0JnOrshKRgFjZsWEBCRTzbhUoNiOCuoZlsakWS0JKf/s1600/Sheilas+Coasters+Comp+yr+Life+crop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZazBge7L5-xkXBn2ULVMUDe5K3vZjZfxm8hGNj9hoFLtybPoUoXAfODYAuos5OmzcAmNd9gOEHepFwCHZU_dDIWV0EWVn8CS3WT0JnOrshKRgFjZsWEBCRTzbhUoNiOCuoZlsakWS0JKf/s320/Sheilas+Coasters+Comp+yr+Life+crop.jpg" height="320" width="303" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The content for this blog are excerpts from the forthcoming <i>Tales Of A Publican's Wife</i>, by Lyn McGettigan, edited by Jan Cornall. Jan and Lyn are preparing the book for publication in 2014.</span></span><br />
<br />
Please leave a comment or get in touch <a href="http://www.writersjourney.com.au/contact-writers-journey/">HERE</a> if you have a Sheila's story to tell.<br />
<br />
(c) Lyn McGettigan 2013 <br />
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fotolithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15707211993990153467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540816093413888302.post-10303907037232943012013-12-12T14:29:00.002-08:002014-03-17T13:08:12.974-07:00 The Magic That Was Sheila’s.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">For over 35 years Lyn McGettigan ran pubs in NSW. She didn't have much choice in the matter — she married Brian the Publican (as she still likes to call him). Still she made the job her own and has lived to tell the tale. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Currently working on a book of her adventures in the hotel business<i>, </i>called <i>Tales of a Publican's Wife</i>, Lyn is keen to gather stories from those who may have frequented her establishments. </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">One of the ventures she managed was Sheila's Tavern in North Sydney, which became a famous watering hole for </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">the famous, the infamous and ordinary punters from all walks of life. In this blog we present some excerpts from Lyn's book and invite any one who has stories from the Sheila's years to leave comments or contact Lyn. </span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOFTshE21_yvWCtUh_3G6YaxRIQ63ELWrElFCxuyvFtreZZTVp4DMq_m2HrxAVXS8ISYLHcEAAhQZ7pbuPjRacLOvsE2j1WtN31SBfOzX465OwUHXENSNTvUx3ABDTr6NVEeelOuwI4liI/s1600/images-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOFTshE21_yvWCtUh_3G6YaxRIQ63ELWrElFCxuyvFtreZZTVp4DMq_m2HrxAVXS8ISYLHcEAAhQZ7pbuPjRacLOvsE2j1WtN31SBfOzX465OwUHXENSNTvUx3ABDTr6NVEeelOuwI4liI/s1600/images-2.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rubik's Cube - symbol of the 80s.</td></tr>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> "</span>Sheila’s Tavern opened in 1983 and was largely the
brainchild of an amazing ideas man, “Crowie” John Crowe. Sheila’s was the first of its kind and the prototype for
many of the nightclubs and venues that sprang up around Sydney like
mushrooms after the rain.</div>
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John Crowe’s nickname should be “The Magician” or “The Dream Maker”. Sheila’s was John's embryo. He fed it, nurtured it,
watched it grow and then gave birth to it. It was his baby and it became the
fantasy of the 80’s; the place where everyone wanted to be, where they could totally be themselves or invent a new persona.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieZI4316er7m_u54IjdQCZ3pMcAldO0ZsO0M9JITzFQwQyoR3IiPObs2iYOJ7dTfbtXgbg8v3mgDcy6-EVnYzXg2jEErBYBn3qdwyartaHF_DFphUOcWuGBIa7vodHMWZEwD7THA-gSv3t/s1600/images-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieZI4316er7m_u54IjdQCZ3pMcAldO0ZsO0M9JITzFQwQyoR3IiPObs2iYOJ7dTfbtXgbg8v3mgDcy6-EVnYzXg2jEErBYBn3qdwyartaHF_DFphUOcWuGBIa7vodHMWZEwD7THA-gSv3t/s1600/images-1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Let's Get Physical and Stay Alive - Powerhouse Museum Exhibit.</td></tr>
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Some people may have dismissed Sheila’s as a “pick-up” joint. It was
never envisaged as that, but if that was what happened, so be it. I think that
a gentler, gentrified, truer description would be “where girls meet boys and
where boys meet girls” and in particular where a female out alone could feel safe. This was
what Crowie envisaged.</div>
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Crowie had owned Grey’s Bar in North Sydney. Grey’s was a
success, so much so that the publicans in North Sydney, (Brian the Publican
amongst them), complained so often to the Licensing Police that it was closed
down. It was certainly not closed for breach of licensing conditions! That
didn’t sit well with Crowie, and he determined to create something that would
“blow them out of their minds” – a place so successful that they would rue the
day that they crossed swords with The Crowe!</div>
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When Crowie decided that he would have the most successful
place in North Sydney, he set about to do just that. Before<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>long he had found a great, empty, desolate
space – a vacant floor above Shopping World - a new complex in Berry St,
North Sydney. It was a huge, with<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>square metres<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>of columns and
cement.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijKY-7Ou62D-rxVChefzCclJQ93A2WHxn8uvgfprGA24nfB13RkW3Irf6nA79IAPSFEHUltxSdlAxesYT8xNHtz6TjoLKOohAWJZo_BxCwY9IUPGJPMIEJI9VyPDYySK3nfjdkQ6BIwu3Q/s1600/showImageLarge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijKY-7Ou62D-rxVChefzCclJQ93A2WHxn8uvgfprGA24nfB13RkW3Irf6nA79IAPSFEHUltxSdlAxesYT8xNHtz6TjoLKOohAWJZo_BxCwY9IUPGJPMIEJI9VyPDYySK3nfjdkQ6BIwu3Q/s320/showImageLarge.jpg" height="200" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not the actual space - but it could've looked like this.</td></tr>
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Crowie’s vision created 2 bars, an outdoor, covered
conservatorium, a 13 bay bistro with a fully-equipped kitchen complete with walk-in
freezer, coolroom and dry-goods store. There was a problem with the design of
the kitchen area though; the architects wanted to put the coolroom and the
freezer outside the kitchen, next to the cellar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At this time I was studying hotel management
at Ryde Tafe and knew this was unworkable. The facilities had to be part
of the kitchen. My reasoning fell on deaf ears - there was still a very strong
“boy’s club" operating!</div>
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“If I can’t beat them, I’ll find someone who can,” I
thought. So I went over to Centre Point where the executive chef, Herbert
Berger, at that time, was the best chef in Sydney. I had met Herbert when I
wanted advice on aspects of my hospitality work and he had showed me over the
complex he operated and explained the economics of running a large kitchen. I
explained my problem.</div>
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“Don’t worry, Lyn,” he said, “I’ll come over and speak to
them." He did. The kitchen layout turned out exactly as it should have!</div>
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The two bars, one at either end of the tavern, were huge. As they had to be. It was normal that 600 people ate daily in the
restaurant area and 1000 were served at the bars at night. On busy nights,
there were 8 operatives behind each bar. The architect, Peter Mulroney and the
builder, David Newman, did a great job bringing Crowie’s dream to life.</div>
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The name, “Sheila’s” did not come about entirely by chance.
Crowie had everything in order, the space, the lease, but not the name. It came from a complete stranger; a lady who was sitting next to him on a plane.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZtertQSfsTBcG70UASnjJK5hSA0u21GeIUT6F1qAimIyBGfiBpBfmYyudqVB6fDDfKuPxwRLpyHymqS8pVbK9QR8CwlHHZ8yPJYlHmGIQtshS-4w3FznVDI6sIh61HUp9b50Xu6Ruhjck/s1600/Sheila's+toilet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZtertQSfsTBcG70UASnjJK5hSA0u21GeIUT6F1qAimIyBGfiBpBfmYyudqVB6fDDfKuPxwRLpyHymqS8pVbK9QR8CwlHHZ8yPJYlHmGIQtshS-4w3FznVDI6sIh61HUp9b50Xu6Ruhjck/s320/Sheila's+toilet.jpg" height="320" width="276" /></a></div>
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“You seem rather quiet,” said the woman, "you must have
something on your mind.”</div>
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Crowie laughted. He was always laughing. He has a great,
infectious laugh.</div>
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“I’m trying to think of a name for a place that I’m building
in Sydney.” he said.</div>
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“What type of place?” she asked.</div>
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Crowie described his plans in general, but said, “I want it
to be a place where women can walk in, go to the bar, order a drink and feel
secure and comfortable.”</div>
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At this time pubs were generally far from pleasant places to
be in. A woman could drink in any bar, but often the language was not good and
the area was inevitably filled with cigarette smoke. Not to be forgotten was
the silence that often descended when a woman walked into the public bar, or the many sets of male eyes that followed her.</div>
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“I don’t want that kind of atmosphere,” said Crowie, “I want
the surroundings to feel comfortable and look attractive.”</div>
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The woman thought for awhile.</div>
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“Why don’t you call it Sheila’s?” she asked. “If it’s to be
upmarket and female friendly, then that would give the right vibe. There is a
magazine called “Sheila, she continued, “Why don’t you get in touch with them?
It could work well for both of you.”</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc8gSzAkZh7exFahvz49988-MZKuS_3YrVIvNZ8NsaNXiNQGaS4cKXeX2V6_RhFoLFxA-wotJ6jVPwswredHyM7P_4Lv8xrIjdmt7xzQPGOO9mHM5sPma9cfglaXP_rnrgxjbZUCul90n-/s1600/Scan+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc8gSzAkZh7exFahvz49988-MZKuS_3YrVIvNZ8NsaNXiNQGaS4cKXeX2V6_RhFoLFxA-wotJ6jVPwswredHyM7P_4Lv8xrIjdmt7xzQPGOO9mHM5sPma9cfglaXP_rnrgxjbZUCul90n-/s320/Scan+1.jpg" height="320" width="229" /></a></div>
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So Crowie did. The editor of “Sheila” magazine was Pamela
Noon and she and Crowie decided that some of the model photo shots could be
enlarged and used on the walls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These
were enlarged to beautiful 163cm by 153cm shots and became part of the décor. They
were magnificent works of art.</div>
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The next problem confronting Crowie was music for the venue,
He decided to enlist the help of the Jacobsen’s. Kevin Jacobsen was a
well-known show business entrepreneur and at that time was bringing the biggest
names in international show business to Australia through his company, Jacobsen
Productions. There was also another string to the Jacobsen bow - Col Joye, much
loved entertainer and part of the Bandstand mob, who were like one big family.
Jacobsen Productions could provide the entertainment and bring any big names
who were visiting Sydney to the venue.<br />
<br />
So, one Friday all the big names in the
music industry met in Jacobsen’s offices. Some of the personalities present
were Slim Dusty and Michael Edgley, amongst others. Crowie described his vision
and his dilemma- what type of music would be most suitable?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCk-mHeBItHBdiho-9blni51AHnrOrNYskLlKPuOCHgwhV3W74dWTyUdA2VXOnsFyaal9MsriXURoTeewDZe7VC0uYZ251o9j46Ty1SXnCAm49lk1dulWhiDzEi84KmhHixVpg2KDhMYPi/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCk-mHeBItHBdiho-9blni51AHnrOrNYskLlKPuOCHgwhV3W74dWTyUdA2VXOnsFyaal9MsriXURoTeewDZe7VC0uYZ251o9j46Ty1SXnCAm49lk1dulWhiDzEi84KmhHixVpg2KDhMYPi/s1600/1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Slim Dusty was involved in planning the music venue side of Sheila's.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The guys argued.
Finally, they said to Crowie,</div>
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“Look John,” we could argue here all day and not come to a
decision, We could charge you a fortune for a piece of paper that would mean
nothing. So, we will leave it up to you.”</div>
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With that, Crowie decided that it was time for a beer and
lunch. With later thought he decided that 60’s music would be the most
appropriate. Crowie was miles ahead of his time in the Sydney music scene. He owned the Hopetoun Hotel in Surry Hills which was
the “birthing’ place of many great bands. Crowie knew what he wanted
so he set out to make “Sheila’s” the music venue of Sydney. In actual fact, it
was probably THE music venue of Australia and many great bands such as <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Cockroaches">TheCockroaches</a>, One Hit Wonders and many, many more,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>played there.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisQHFw74QESlEEVnCUPRQooGsNZnTq8iYWqbG7vPwaFRUOv5i1hU36XjxC9I6FkYZxLFHSOByf5WY9lXIWhX9pBOrQj0CKXQi4-pusqCchQEkNqB6Mv5BlvgQcvOuKlpHF6n4pyNYCLjbs/s1600/Cockroaches_band.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisQHFw74QESlEEVnCUPRQooGsNZnTq8iYWqbG7vPwaFRUOv5i1hU36XjxC9I6FkYZxLFHSOByf5WY9lXIWhX9pBOrQj0CKXQi4-pusqCchQEkNqB6Mv5BlvgQcvOuKlpHF6n4pyNYCLjbs/s320/Cockroaches_band.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Cockroaches played at Shelia's</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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It also hosted stand- up
comedy nights. One comedian I remember was Vince Sorrenti,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>who was one of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>many. To do this, Crowie built a fully set-up
stage, lights, sound, curtains, with a mixer box and a DJ. There was a huge
parquetry dance floor in front. This wore out within one month and had to be
replaced with marble. This marble was too soft, so had to be replaced, after a week, on one frantic Sunday night by a team of workmen, with harder marble.
It lasted! The bands were not forgotten; there was a band room
out the back with lounges for their breaks and of course, occasional tables for their
“riders”. “Riders” was a list of the drinks that the band wanted
(within reason), and these were supplied by the venue.</div>
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Beside the stage were two video screens, one on each side.
Especially selected videos were played 24/7. These videos were selected on a
weekly basis , made especially for “Sheila’s” and regularly rotated. Some of
the songs that I particularly remember were those of Annie Lennox and the
Eurorhythmics- notably “<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2bDzwX0c7E">Sweet Dreams are Made of This”</a>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sound and videos were managed by a super
DJ called Bret, who was the bane of everyone’s life, but they were also the
bane of his!</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyGeYeM31mGp0nNsHFr_o0rA5inw5uO1mJHlgwAw2HSP7GkBB2eyadKPqTcc4a8bPUFKfrNUZvQ0Oyg7v0prjQbUIeeb1kdiIg0oSkfWHH0g6ZyviznAWgQV9oKNmTWMxKsUZEKZxpUmyw/s1600/600x400_women80s_annie-lennox-600x400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyGeYeM31mGp0nNsHFr_o0rA5inw5uO1mJHlgwAw2HSP7GkBB2eyadKPqTcc4a8bPUFKfrNUZvQ0Oyg7v0prjQbUIeeb1kdiIg0oSkfWHH0g6ZyviznAWgQV9oKNmTWMxKsUZEKZxpUmyw/s320/600x400_women80s_annie-lennox-600x400.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Eurythmics clips played on the video screens.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I thought that Brett was really kind and considerate. He
knew that I loved the song, “Oh What a Night” sung by<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wD7LNDLKfWY"> Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons</a>, </span>and he stopped whatever he was playing
and put it on when ever I walked onto the premises.</div>
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</div>
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“Do you remember Brett?” I asked my mate Bernice the other
day as we were reminiscing over old times and I was waxing lyrical on what a
great staff we had at “Sheila’s” and how they were always industriously doing
their job whenever I walked in unexpectedly at night to check up.</div>
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“You know, he knew that I loved “Oh what a night” and always
played it when I arrived. I thought that was really nice.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Did you?” responded Bernice. He played that to alert the
staff that you were on the premises. You were pretty tough in your day.”</div>
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“Oh!” was all that I could reply as my mouth remained open.</div>
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Now, before the building started, Crowie had most of his
team- the architect, the builder, the show biz gurus. But he needed someone to
run it. He approached his accountant, Kevin and outlined his ideas. He wanted to
complete the compatible partnership of seemingly unlikely people (Crowie was
running his own hotel); an entrepreneur to bring celebrities there and a builder.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOdzYjvoyKFcdJDGuwDIwkFHj0Rz5bVaNMGLEMa9YuEH0eZy7fFxGYtp0Dsz3dAiBmGY9s7yXhO2wHVuHIza_adxA-zy6sveEvXJXUctr5RQVrkqgfk-d8HF258DwYyAhQ_qjw4E870oZF/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOdzYjvoyKFcdJDGuwDIwkFHj0Rz5bVaNMGLEMa9YuEH0eZy7fFxGYtp0Dsz3dAiBmGY9s7yXhO2wHVuHIza_adxA-zy6sveEvXJXUctr5RQVrkqgfk-d8HF258DwYyAhQ_qjw4E870oZF/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />
“Mate, do you know a good bloke to run this?”</div>
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Kevin did! Brian the Publican.</div>
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Brian was the ideal choice- he was larger than life and was
a great PR person and he had a hard-working wife- me! Brian the Publican also
had the advantage of being well known in North
Sydney- to bankers, advertising, radio and TV personalities, footballers and
police.</div>
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So with the stage set, the meeting was convened in the
dining room of the Union Hotel- where, after a few ales had been consumed downstairs
in the Corner Bar of the Union Hotel, made for a very amenable meeting. In this
amiable mood all agreed to be part of this new concept and were prepared to
give it a go. When word of what they were doing got around the hotel industry, the
general consensus of old-style publicans was that it would be a failure.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl8vHhhK5pPnWFNem3vtMCGzDhYldClCcxO0aQqlazrfZz_ONYl5KDdKI-F3pZ5jdG7JfLsmyOQzOXO7rI3XG_8k0JF623xTV6_1jiVQYLuZSMSzlECQfJxnwkvI01WfoMMTM4idVJJ7mo/s1600/Music+80s.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl8vHhhK5pPnWFNem3vtMCGzDhYldClCcxO0aQqlazrfZz_ONYl5KDdKI-F3pZ5jdG7JfLsmyOQzOXO7rI3XG_8k0JF623xTV6_1jiVQYLuZSMSzlECQfJxnwkvI01WfoMMTM4idVJJ7mo/s320/Music+80s.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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Crowie spoke to a radio announcer and described his concept,
right down to the shocking pink baby grand piano and the chauvinistic coasters.
I doubt that the name; chauvinistic ”Sheila’s”, with its bright pink logo of
hat, rose and champagne glass could ever have been used today. Neither could
the coasters with their ”Sheila's, naughty but nice, “ “Sheila’s, the best pick up in town”, “Climax
your week at Sheila’s”. There were twenty of these!!</div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It won’t work, mate," said the radio announcer to Crowie the day before the opening ,’I’ve just
surveyed 100 people. 99 said they would never go near a place with a name like
that”.<br />
<br />
This didn’t worry Crowie. He came in laughing to tell the “boys”. It
didn’t worry them- they were the primal, confident eternal optimists or else
they hid their worries well!</div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It won’t work”’
repeated the hard-nosed publicans.</div>
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Crowie had the last laugh.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was having a drink with his mate Colin Tidy, the
well-known Sydney bookmaker, on opening night<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>as they watched the place fill to overflowing capacity.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Looks like it will be a success, John. The place is really
firing.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll let you in on a secret. This is how to get people in
–free entertainment, free food, free grog!”</div>
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It wasn’t necessary, but was a brilliant opening stunt.
Sheila’s was the greatest Sydney success of that time. Opening night only
presaged the amazing success it was to be!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMPl5J3IURBktk8XVi2ExsIaqHQdwwaoaJ7tfOokGv54qYVr8Zk5qwXro7yyMDst7W-rYSLZj6q8CMZzh3Y197dCQQe8-O5Tbv5zs754u15mYLBX0m9L5cOs7NEZEUEgsGUv0oMmtst1wP/s1600/party01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMPl5J3IURBktk8XVi2ExsIaqHQdwwaoaJ7tfOokGv54qYVr8Zk5qwXro7yyMDst7W-rYSLZj6q8CMZzh3Y197dCQQe8-O5Tbv5zs754u15mYLBX0m9L5cOs7NEZEUEgsGUv0oMmtst1wP/s320/party01.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">This blog was prepared by Jan Cornall, editor for <i>Tales Of A Publican's Wife</i>, by Lyn McGettigan.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Jan and Lyn are preparing the book for publication in 2014.</span><br />
<br />
Please leave a comment or get in touch <a href="http://www.writersjourney.com.au/contact-writers-journey/">HERE</a> if you have a Sheila's story to tell.<br />
<br />
(c) Lyn McGettigan 2013 <br />
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