The Story of Danny Dunn (73 page)

‘Hmm, perhaps you're right. I'll have to think about it,' Danny said.

‘I guess that means you won't,' Askin grinned, correctly reading the unstated refusal in Danny's answer.

‘Bob, I'm not a politician and probably never will be; I simply wouldn't be comfortable changing horses after my electorate had just voted me in as an Independent. Voting Labor out for the first time since Doc Evatt doesn't by any means indicate that my electorate is prepared to endorse the Libs.'

‘What do you mean?' Askin looked slightly alarmed. ‘You're not on our side?'

‘No, I didn't say that. I'm an Independent and I intend to stay that way. However, my vote comes with a specific agenda.'

Askin gave a sigh of relief. ‘Naturally, we'd expect that. But there are other enticements – overseas trade missions, a seat on useful committees, inclusion in important inquiries, a few other small lurks and perks. Such a pity you won't join us – you'd make an excellent minister.'

‘Thank you, Bob, but I'm not really a good committee man.'

‘You're a lawyer, a damn good one, Danny, accustomed to convincing a jury . . . We don't want ministers who look for consensus, but ones with a clear point of view they intend to have accepted.'

‘Well, there you go then, I'll always try to make my case persuasively.' Danny gave a cheeky laugh. ‘In the meantime, you have my permission to move into the Premier's office.'

‘Tell me so that I can prepare my team, what is it you specifically want to achieve in your first term?' Askin asked.

Danny looked him in the eye. ‘I want Balmain and the other industrialised suburbs on the harbour turned into decent places to live. We're two-thirds of the way through the twentieth century and the government is still using these suburbs as if we were in the nineteenth! When Charles Dickens visited Sydney last century he described the foulness of Sydney Harbour and it hasn't changed, for crying out loud! This is choice waterfrontage, and people deserve to live and bring up their families in healthy attractive surroundings, and not have to tolerate foul air, polluted water and possibly the highest incidence of asthma and bronchial problems in the country.'

‘How do you suggest we do that? I imagine there are one or two industrial heavy hitters who might kick up a fuss.'

‘Of course, the two soap factories for a start. The key is rezoning. If you change the zoning and at the same time give the old polluting industries the right incentive to move to the industrial estates starting on the fringes of the metropolitan area, they may be interested. Our survey shows that ninety-five per cent of existing industry located along the edges of the harbour does not depend on water transport.'

‘So we give them a bribe to relocate – is that what you're suggesting?'

‘Yes, but a real incentive, a generous one. Western Sydney is where the population is increasingly shifting and they need the employment the industries will provide. The increased land prices the harbour factory sites will fetch once the area is zoned residential or even light industrial will be a further temptation.' Danny shrugged. ‘It's not that difficult and it's good government.'

Askin shook his head. ‘I see the carrot clearly, but we'll need a stick. There are jobs involved, the local people won't like it.'

‘I don't know about that. Balmain just voted for it.'

‘Danny, this is a lousy media story – people having to travel vast distances to get to jobs that were formerly on their doorstep; some may even be forced to uproot and relocate. The serious TV docos will have a bonanza, and so will radio and the print media.'

‘Then give the media an even bigger story, one with real legs, one that all of Sydney can embrace.'

‘For instance?'

‘The decline in Sydney's environment.
All
of Sydney's environment! The water and air pollution that's affecting us all, from Vaucluse to Pymble. Our harbour has been used as a sewer for over a century and a half, and we've been pumping shit into the air for almost as long. Take a team of scientists and a TV crew out to Balmain and have them analyse the stuff the soap factories, foundries and marine workshops are pouring into the harbour. That's your stick. You simply say your government has decided to make Sydney the cleanest harbour city in the southern hemisphere. We're building the world's most spectacular Opera House and we're not going to allow it to be swimming in a cesspool! It's a long-term platform that just might get you elected with a working majority next time around.'

Askin looked hard at Danny. ‘This wouldn't have something to do with the twenty-eight houses you own on the Balmain harbourfront, would it?'

Danny nodded his head, laughing. ‘Yes, of course it has. When my mother bought them she was the laughing stock of Balmain; the people simply couldn't believe anyone could be that stupid. But we went ahead nevertheless, and young couples came to take a look at the nice, neat, renovated little houses and started to buy them. Nothing had changed, except that people started to take notice; they began to see that change was possible. We've sold all but five houses, and they'll be sold the moment they're renovated and long before any rezoning might take place. My mother and wife and others who own them have already reaped the benefits. This is not about being greedy or about making money, it's about instilling hope. We haven't bought any more properties and, if it gives you any comfort, we won't be doing so – well, not in Balmain, anyway.'

Bob Askin rose. ‘I can't see why not. I'm happy you've benefitted. It's going to be interesting having you more or less on our side, Danny. It will be some weeks before we're properly underway and can formulate and pass legislation. In the meantime there's a trade delegation going to Japan in a week – away for ten days – would you like to be included?'

At the mention of Japan, Danny started, but immediately collected himself. ‘Japan, eh? Hmm, can't say I'm overly fond of the Japanese,' he said dryly.

‘There are no strings attached. Both major parties are included in the group and the addition of an Independent is always sound politics. You'll be back before parliament opens. If I'm not mistaken, Tommy O'Hearn was on the original Labor list of people to go. You'll enjoy it, and of course you're welcome to take your wife.'

‘May I think about it for twenty-four hours, please?'

Bob Askin had reached the door. ‘Of course!' he said, then paused with one hand on the doorframe. ‘By the way, thank you for my office,' he grinned.

‘You're welcome. Oh, and, Bob, this rezoning legislation needs to happen in the first twelve months of your government, with the regulations to back it firmly in place. I don't wish to be left like a shag on a rock if a couple of by-elections make you complacent and you have a majority in your own right.'

Bob Askin straightened and gave Danny a mock salute. ‘As one sergeant to another, I promise. But you must understand that legislation doesn't happen overnight.'

Danny nodded. ‘Why don't you get your mate, Frank Packer, on side? That will bring in Channel Nine, the
Daily Telegraph
and the
Women's Weekly
. Not such a bad start, eh?'

Askin nodded. ‘I now realise they don't call you “Nifty Dunn” for nothing. By the way, talking of offices, this one is ridiculous. I'll allocate you a better one.'

Danny shrugged. ‘This one will do.'

‘No, no, allow me the pleasure of turfing out some old Labor parrot from his nice comfy perch. Some of them haven't said a word in the house for fifteen years beyond squawking “aye” or “nay” when nudged awake for a vote.'

Danny and Helen travelled first class to Japan, the politicians not being averse to squandering taxpayers' money. They were ten minutes out from Tokyo's Haneda Airport, with the seatbelt sign already on, just as the sun, a great red orb against an almost pewter sky, was setting. It was the original of the image on the Japanese flag and immediately made Danny feel uneasy. He nudged Helen. ‘Take a look at the sunset, it's giving me the creeps.'

Helen glanced through the plane window. ‘Darling, it's only a sunset. I've seen similar ones from our top verandah.'

‘Yeah, but at home it's the sun setting, here it's the dreaded fried egg.'

‘Danny, we went through all this when you decided to come. It's over twenty years ago. You know the Japanese fighting in the Pacific, Malaya and Singapore suffered terribly. The people who are likely to be our hosts were ten-year-old kids when the war ended.'

‘I'll bet that bastard Mori isn't dead,' Danny growled.

Helen touched him on the arm. ‘You promised me you wouldn't dwell on him, darling. If you do, I'm taking the first plane home in the morning,' she warned. ‘We both need a holiday – you're exhausted after the election and . . . well, I'm just plain exhausted. This is a trade junket. A couple of dreary tours through a motorcycle factory and a shipyard to see the ships they're building for our iron ore, three receptions and a fair bit of bowing and laughing at jokes we don't get, and then we're supposed to enjoy ourselves.' Helen looked at him appealingly. ‘Don't spoil it.'

‘Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Bloody silly, I know, but for a moment that sun brought everything back.' Danny smiled. ‘Don't worry, I'll be all right, you'll see – the life of the flaming party. These are blokes I have to get to know.'

The delegation was met at the airport and escorted in four black limos to the Imperial Hotel, where, to their surprise, they were shown to a suite. Danny turned to Helen, who was just about to inspect the bathroom, and laughed. ‘Bob doesn't miss a trick, but this is very nice. Did I tell you he moved me from a hole in the wall to a big office with my own secretary – leather couches, oil painting of the First Fleet on the wall, the works.'

Helen called from the bathroom. ‘We'll have to have a bath – there's no shower – and the bath will fit all but about two feet of you. It's very posh. Take what you can get from Askin, darling. I can't help feeling that the moment they have a majority you'll be last week's bread.'

They spent the day looking around and came to realise that Tokyo made Sydney look like a backward village. That evening they attended a reception near the Imperial Palace as guests of the Australian embassy. The embassy, a magnificent traditional Japanese building, closer to a small palace than to a large residence, had been seized from the Japanese as war reparations, according to Tony Blackmore, a military attaché who introduced himself to Danny. ‘Even after twenty years, Japanese businessmen tell us it's time to give it back – when they've had too much to drink, of course, which is quite often.'

Danny laughed politely.

Tony – a captain, Danny noticed – went on with a grin, ‘They've got Buckley's. We like this rather grand pad. Even the Brits and the Yanks envy us.'

Danny warmed to him, despite his officer status. He had no pretentions and was just the sort of young bloke you'd like to think represented your country abroad.

A little later in the evening, when Helen had repaired to the powder room with several of the other wives, Danny approached the attaché. ‘Do we, you know, keep a list of the . . . the bad guys who got back . . . 
I mean, the Japs?'

It was an awkwardly phrased question but Tony seemed to understand immediately. ‘Mr Dunn, as a matter of diplomatic procedure we prepare a file on all the important visitors who come to Japan. I know you're a decorated ex-POW from the Burma Railway.' He grinned. ‘We're briefed to avoid questions like that one.'

Danny laughed at his forthright manner. ‘First, please call me Danny. And, second, if you know anything about state politics, you'll know that independent members, unless they're needed to achieve a majority, have about the same importance in parliament as the tea lady, probably less. But I've often wondered if it's all been swept under the carpet and everyone conveniently forgets the war ever happened.'

Tony Blackmore looked serious for a moment. ‘No, not quite. We keep files on all the old Class A war criminals.' Then, changing the subject, he asked, ‘How does it feel to be in Japan?'

As a lawyer, Danny knew how to persist with a line of questioning. He told the attaché about the sunset, adding, ‘I wouldn't mind ten minutes with Colonel Mori, the Japanese commandant who ran our camp. The Yanks repatriated him without a trial to run the family industrial complex – business before justice, expediency before accountability.' Danny sighed. ‘Water under the bridge, I guess. I must be getting old and bitter.' He paused, then shook his head. ‘No, that's a lie. I've dreamed for years of catching up with the bastard.'

‘You wouldn't be the first to say that. We even have a precedent, though it was long before my posting to Japan – a Qantas pilot, a former RAAF pilot, captured at the fall of Singapore and, like yourself, a prisoner of war under the Japanese on the Burma Railway. By some extraordinary coincidence he was in a bar in the Shinjuku district and recognised the barman as one of the Japanese officers from his camp in Thailand. He completely lost it and pulled him over the bar and very nearly beat him to death. He got away before the police arrived and came straight to the embassy and reported the incident.'