Great pride
My 20-year-old self could not have imagined the things that happen now. I grew up in Kiama, which at that time was a country town. There was a single-lane highway to Sydney, so I didn’t come to the city that often. I was very much the country boy.
I went to a Catholic boys’ school in Wollongong and even though I had lots of friends, I was a bit of an outsider. I had no idea what gay was. When I came to Sydney and discovered I was gay, it was hard to reconcile with my Catholic upbringing because it was such a big sin. After fighting my way through all that, I decided I couldn’t live a life of pretence and I was just going to be me.
When I first met Peter at a bar, he was a radio announcer for the news. He was 10 years older and an utter gentleman. He moved in theatrical circles and worked as an actor, stage manager and eventually became a tour director, taking people on tours all over the world. He spoke four languages fluently and picked up another three.
Peter had always liked terrace houses, so we moved from Bellevue Hill to Paddington in 1968 when I was in my early twenties. Our first terrace in Hargrave St cost $17,000. It was three-storeys high with one usable room on each floor.
Mardi Gras 1982. Courtesy City of Sydney
Back then, Paddington was going through an in-between period, parts of it were gentrifying but most of it was still slummy. One of our neighbours, from our second terrace on Paddington St, told me that her house had been a brothel and the cottage next door was once a sly grog shop — and that wasn’t all that much earlier than when we moved here.
Five Ways was already a community, but it wasn’t as strong in the other parts of Paddington. Although everyone around here knew me and Peter, being gay was still an issue and it was an issue for lots of people. It wasn’t just that our relationship was illegal — if you were single and caught with another man, you could be arrested and put in jail. Gay men were getting bashed, murdered and thrown off the cliffs at Tamarama.
I didn’t go to the first Mardi Gras, though I have the utmost admiration for the people who did. Firstly, I wasn’t a great mixer in the bar scene and secondly, I was worried that if I got arrested, I would lose my job. I’ve since gone with friends to watch the parade, but it wasn’t until four years ago that I marched for the first time at 74 years old.
Steve and Peter
Moving to our third house near Five Ways was the best thing that happened to me and Peter. The community has been fantastic. Peter had dementia for the last four and a half years of his life and every afternoon he liked to walk down to Café Fiveways or the Royal Hotel and I got real pleasure from watching him interact with people.
Some days when I was at work, he’d get his walker and come down to the café or pub, and the staff would always stand out front to watch he got home safely. And if he couldn’t get home himself, someone from the bar would come out and walk him home.
That’s real community.
Peter was in a nursing home for the last six months and when he died last year, the wonderful people at the Royal helped me throw a party to celebrate his life because I didn’t want a funeral.
I’m now back at work one day a week as a tour guide at the Opera House and every day I come down to Five Ways to buy a paper from 'Mr Magic' (aka Andrew Packham at Journals), I’ll sit and have a coffee, go for a swim at Clovelly and by the time I get home I’m feeling all right. The routine helps me get through the downer days.
At 78 years old I can say that I’ve lived a good life. I’ve had three fantastic careers: teacher, head of education at Taronga Zoo and as a tour guide, and I had a wonderful partner for 57 years.
When I was younger, I could never have imagined a world where I can mix with a complete group of straight friends, including cops and their families, who accepted Peter and me as an ordinary couple. Living here is the best thing that happened to us and I’m hoping I can finish out my days, as much as possible, exactly where I am now.
— As told to Amy Davoren-Rose. Portrait by Trent van der Jagt