We had the front room in Vince Moody's Mum's place in West St. Paddo. Maybe 1947. The upstairs-front in a two-up with pokey rooms at the back. Our kitchen was the balcony overlooking the street.
William Groves, 'the Professor', lived in one of the aforesaid bed-sitter-kitchens. Mrs Moody didn't charge much and even less if you were in the Party. Bill was an expert. He made a brew that defied all efforts to erase and Paddington walls wore testimony for years later.
He was jockey size and reckoned that he was too little to argue with coppers so always took nitkeeper when a paintup or other nefarious caper was afoot. He was good at that too.
But the Prof's greatest strength came of his recipe for long lasting paint guaranteed to resist the most energetic attempts at removal. Painting over was the only go.
There was some international furore going on and Australian troops were being mooted to once again provide the meat for another interventionist exercise. The local Party branch decided to do a job on the wall of the Victoria Army Barracks in Oxford St. Maybe HANDS OFF INDONESIA.
Bill duly volenteered and was appointed to prepare a mixture. This he did in his back room and a pungent pong crept through the house. Ma Moody wasn't real keen about this but Vince would come round and square things up.
Comrade Groves never revealed the secret of his excellence but from dropped asides it seemed it might contained whitewash, lime, something from the Main Roads Department stock and battery acid. Bill warned one and all to keep it clear of exposed skin. Good advice indeed.
So the job was done. Neat too. None of your crude slap and run. It spread a long way in letters four feet high. And it GLOWED. A real stand out.
Of course editorials fumed, pollies hands flapped piously and Mother Englands caste offs ratted on furiously. The convicts that built it would have approved.
They had half the Australian Army out next day with scrubbing brushes and elbow grease but the Professor's child defied their efforts. University experts were consulted. They were baffled. They tried painting it over in some brown stone colour. In a few days the message reemerged strongly but was now bedraggled and an untidier mess than before.
So they resorted to plastering it over with coloured cement. It still looked pretty crook but the offensive slogan disappeared. That is until it rained a Sydney two day bucketting.
Gradually Comrade William Groves reputation was vindicated along with his concoction. The mysterious mixture ensured that the message endured long after it ceased to have much political significance and our mate had taken his secret to the great Commune beyond.
William Groves, 'the Professor', lived in one of the aforesaid bed-sitter-kitchens. Mrs Moody didn't charge much and even less if you were in the Party. Bill was an expert. He made a brew that defied all efforts to erase and Paddington walls wore testimony for years later.
He was jockey size and reckoned that he was too little to argue with coppers so always took nitkeeper when a paintup or other nefarious caper was afoot. He was good at that too.
But the Prof's greatest strength came of his recipe for long lasting paint guaranteed to resist the most energetic attempts at removal. Painting over was the only go.
There was some international furore going on and Australian troops were being mooted to once again provide the meat for another interventionist exercise. The local Party branch decided to do a job on the wall of the Victoria Army Barracks in Oxford St. Maybe HANDS OFF INDONESIA.
Bill duly volenteered and was appointed to prepare a mixture. This he did in his back room and a pungent pong crept through the house. Ma Moody wasn't real keen about this but Vince would come round and square things up.
Comrade Groves never revealed the secret of his excellence but from dropped asides it seemed it might contained whitewash, lime, something from the Main Roads Department stock and battery acid. Bill warned one and all to keep it clear of exposed skin. Good advice indeed.
So the job was done. Neat too. None of your crude slap and run. It spread a long way in letters four feet high. And it GLOWED. A real stand out.
Of course editorials fumed, pollies hands flapped piously and Mother Englands caste offs ratted on furiously. The convicts that built it would have approved.
They had half the Australian Army out next day with scrubbing brushes and elbow grease but the Professor's child defied their efforts. University experts were consulted. They were baffled. They tried painting it over in some brown stone colour. In a few days the message reemerged strongly but was now bedraggled and an untidier mess than before.
So they resorted to plastering it over with coloured cement. It still looked pretty crook but the offensive slogan disappeared. That is until it rained a Sydney two day bucketting.
Gradually Comrade William Groves reputation was vindicated along with his concoction. The mysterious mixture ensured that the message endured long after it ceased to have much political significance and our mate had taken his secret to the great Commune beyond.
