All posts by Michael Burge

Journalist, author, artist

Janet Mays – forging Independence

INDEPENDENT THINKER Former Blue Mountains City Councillor, Janet Mays.
INDEPENDENT THINKER Former Blue Mountains City Councillor, Janet Mays.

A Writer’s encounter with politics.

THE first political piece I ever wrote was also the first scoop I ever got.

I was a resident of the Blue Mountains for thirty years, give or take my years at university and a six-year stint in the United Kingdom.

By the time Blue Mountains City Councillor Janet Mays stood for the NSW State elections in 2011, I was on the bandwagon of change for an area I loved deeply.

It was time for us to cease being a political football, an electorate that churned-out state and federal backbenchers who shored-up the numbers in parliament but stood for very little locally.

Janet burst onto the region’s political scene with a compassionate assertiveness that started to wake people up, the same way voters seem to have become aware of the two-party power shenanigans in the Victorian federal division of Indi, where Independent Cathy McGowan toppled the sitting member for the LNP, Sophie Mirabella, at the federal election in 2013.

She took a fifth of the primary vote from the major parties, and lost the seat in a State intent on nothing but ridding itself of the ALP, but Janet Mays used orange for her Independent campaign colours when Voice for Indi was just a whisper of frustration. It’s a fitting symbol of her link to the groundswell of Independent thinking rising across Australian electorates.

This feature was published in the October-November 2010 edition of Blue Mountains Life.

ORANGE MOUNTAINS For one Summer, the Blue Mountains toyed with changing colour.
ORANGE MOUNTAINS For one Summer, the Blue Mountains toyed with changing colour.

The Long Walk to Independence

From cafés and cars to the footwork of politics, meet Janet Mays.  

Janet Mays knows her way across the Blue Mountains better than most. In November 2009, she led the Health, Equity & Access Lobby (‘HEAL’) on a walk covering the fifty kilometres between Katoomba and Nepean Hospitals. The ‘It’s a Bl**dy Long Way to Nepean Hospital’ walk was designed to throw light on declining hospital services at Katoomba, and HEAL ignited a movement which is taking more than footsteps in the region.

“We were frustrated at the way nothing was shifting. We’d gathered a lot of support around bringing primary health services back to Katoomba, but there was very little action,” Janet says. “No one is demanding the government provide open heart surgery at Katoomba, but it’s not too much to expect basic surgery at your local hospital, like an appendectomy.”

In 2007, Janet experienced first hand a hospital system which was simply not functioning. “As someone who’d lived in the Mountains for a few years, I just assumed I could have my appendix removed locally,” she says. “At Nepean I had to wait twenty-seven hours for primary care on two occasions before they diagnosed the problem was simply appendicitis. It was so traumatising at some level, having to come home and then go back again, like Groundhog Day”.

“I knew intuitively that the removal of my appendix could have been done locally, if the will was there.”

Janet’s search for that will saw her take out a full-page letter in the local newspaper, gathering support from a number of groups and individuals concerned about similar issues. From this, HEAL was born.

“I also spent two years visiting council meetings. I listened to the debates and gained an understanding of how it all worked. This cemented a desire to eventually get onto the Blue Mountains City Council, in order to understand and represent the views of the community.”

In 2008, Janet was elected as an Independent Blue Mountains City Councillor. When asked about her first time in the chamber, she recalls: “It was like being let off a leash as a resident, but also very daunting. I knew I had it in me. I’d been involved in plenty of drama and music as I grew up. Part of being a politician is articulating a message in the same manner as a performer does”.

“It is hard as an independent to get support. You have to be very eloquent in prosecuting your case to the other councillors. When I am going to debate, I research the facts so that I gain an understanding of both sides of an issue.

MOUNTAIN VIEWS Janet Mays awoke an Independent movement in the Blue Mountains.
MOUNTAIN VIEWS Janet Mays awoke an Independent movement in the Blue Mountains.

“Ward One might be my patch,” Janet says, “but I am required to vote on issues across our entire region, so I need to get out there and familiarise myself with the issues. As a true independent I don’t believe I have any choice. I don’t have the luxury of party colleagues informing me of anything, so I need to listen to people up and down the Mountains”.

“I sometimes change my mind on issues when I do the research or consult an expert. Being an independent can get lonely sometimes, but it’s also very exciting.”

Born in Melbourne, Janet was raised and schooled in Canberra.

“It does heighten your political interest,” she says, “at least it did then. My Dad was in the public service, and so were friends’ parents. Politics were discussed around the dinner table every night. That was part of the Canberra culture.”

After running her own café for many years, Janet, “stumbled into a career in and around the automotive industry, spanning twenty-four years.”

Like many other Mountain residents, she and partner Jocelyn Street purchased a Mountains weekender which soon became their permanent home in 2003.

“After a very short time we both realised that Sydney is not that far away, so we said ‘bugger the commute’ and settled here. Commuting is tiring,” Janet adds. “We do it for economic reasons, but it can separate you from your community. I work four days a week in the city and I travel up and down every day, which allows me time for my council work.”

The death of her father a short time before the move seems to have been more of a defining moment than Janet is prepared to reveal. “It left me unsettled as a person,” she says of a period when she and Jocelyn also committed to their de-facto relationship. “We have very similar family backgrounds, with many siblings,” Janet outlines. “We’re both from stable homes, with parents who worked hard”.

“I came out in my late thirties,” Janet adds. “I’d been through a marriage, and I suppose the world had shifted since my strong Catholic upbringing. My parents’ reaction to my sexuality was to say ‘as long as you’re happy’.

“With the support of my partner, I have really come into my own as a human being, and I’ve been able to achieve a lot in many different ways.”

As a Blue Mountains City Councillor, Janet has championed Indigenous access by helping set up the First People’s Advisory Committee. “I am particularly proud of that,” she says. “Council now has a way to be advised by Indigenous people on matters directly relating to them.”

Janet’s support of the creation of an Economic Development Working Party aims to broaden the employment base in the Blue Mountains Government Area. “Fifty-eight percent of working adults are forced to commute,” Janet outlines. “This working party aims to create new industries here, and broaden existing ones.”

And the local health system remains high on Janet’s agenda.

LONG WALK Clr Janet Mays and HEAL Vice President Claire Cook cross the Nepean River at Penrith (Photo: Jocelyn Street).
LONG WALK Clr Janet Mays and HEAL Vice President Claire Cook cross the Nepean River at Penrith (Photo: Jocelyn Street).

“Day one was a very hot day,” she recalls of the Bl**dy Long Way to Nepean walk. “We were very blessed with a large gathering of people at the start, and more joined us along the way for one or two legs. We ended the day at the Ori in Springwood … it was the best tasting beer,” she smiles.

“On day two the seven core walkers sped up considerably,” Jocelyn (walk support team leader) remembers. “There was an incredible energy on the day, not just from the walkers, but also passing motorists, who seemed to really love the fact that people were getting out there and doing something for the community.”

“Once we crossed the Nepean River our signs really told our story. There was a recognition from Penrith residents that Nepean is their hospital, and they were saying ‘good on you’ because our aim is to take the pressure off Nepean,” Janet says.

“We know HEAL raised an important issue that day,” Janet underlines, “because we brought Phil Koperberg (ALP State Member for Macquarie at the time) and Jillian Skinner (Opposition Health Spokeswoman) together at one moment to demand a shared response on Katoomba Hospital. It’s the first time that has ever happened. The more we do, even though it annoys the Sydney Western Area Health Service, we are representing community views”.

“It’s an ongoing process to bring further change,” Janet says. “Katoomba is blessed with a dedicated hospital staff, operating at their best in a system which does not value them. They are not permitted to deliver services as they are trained to, yet they remain dedicated. Our hospital staff deserve greater support from all levels of government”.

“The Blue Mountains have not been well served in recent years,” Janet adds, before revealing her intention to run as an independent candidate for the Blue Mountains at the March 2011 state election. “The Blue Mountains is a unique area with its own identity and a fragile environment under pressure from all sides,” Janet says. “How do we ensure our voice is heard?” she asks. “It is time for this community to have a member absolutely focussed on local interests, and not party interests”.

pluck-cover
BUY NOW

“It takes courage,” Janet adds. “Independents are not in opposition. Our role is to work collaboratively with the government of the day, to beat the drum and bang the table for our communities. That is the essence of what it is to be independent.”

© Michael Burge, all rights reserved.

This article appears in Michael’s ebook Pluck: Exploits of the single-minded.

I fought the law

BOB'S WAY Attorney General of NSW until 2007, the Hon. Bob Debus.
BOB’S WAY Attorney-General of NSW until 2007, the Hon. Bob Debus.

A Writer takes on an Attorney-General.

NINETEEN months after the death of my long-term partner Jonathan Rosten, I received an email out of the blue via the Sydney Star Observer, one of Australia’s gay and lesbian news sources.

Weeks before I’d shared my story in an interview with a journalist from that paper, detailing the precarious legal and financial deadlock I had been subjected to by Jono’s family, their denial of our relationship, and their illegal actions which prevented me from accessing his death certificate.

I’d spoken about my experience to warn other gay couples in Australia, particularly in the city I lived in (‘gay friendly’ Sydney), that it was still a political act for two people of the same gender to live together, because they were not afforded the full protection of the law.

The email was from a man whose name I will not write here – we’ll call him Wayne – because what he told me could have gotten him sacked.

He worked within the Registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages, presided over by State Attorney-General, The Hon. Bob Debus.

Wayne’s email was friendly, letting me know he’d read about my experience in the SSO, and wasn’t it great that the laws had recently been relaxed, meaning I could now get a copy of Jono’s death certificate with my name on it?

This was news to me.

I contacted the SSO and got Wayne’s number. He confirmed for me that, yes, working within the Registry, he’d witnessed directives that same-sex spouses were now to be granted access to their deceased partner’s death certificates. He wanted to remain anonymous because there were homophobes in very high positions within the department he worked in.

I rang the Registry, fobbing off the typical bureaucratic nonsense the telephonists engaged in. I already knew nobody but a top shit-kicker could help me, got put through, stated my case, and booked an appointment the next day.

The first thing that shocked me about the NSW Registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages was the level of security. Bouncers, thick glass screens, metal detecting barriers, and an air of protection pervaded the place.

That’s when I realised why I’d had such a tough time with these bastards: they control access to some of the most important life decisions we enter into as citizens, so they expect problems, and they’re in a permanent state of lock-down.

Upstairs, the chief shit-kicker invited me to show him the documentation in my possession: statutory declarations, bank accounts, rental contracts, personal items, Jono’s journal; in all some sixty documents which proved various parts of our relationship.

His eyes widened, and he went to stand, saying he just needed to photocopy the first three. But I didn’t, couldn’t, let him go.

I got extremely angry and emotional at having to wait for this moment much longer than a straight spouse in my position would have had to. In the nineteen months prior I’d been brought to my knees emotionally, financially, and spiritually. I’d survived suicidal thoughts, processed deep shame, lost friends, and had to move far too often because I’d been forced to become a ball of unmanageable humanity by the shortcomings of one family and the internal regulations of this man’s department.

FINDING A PULSE in a homophobe can take some work.
FINDING A PULSE in a homophobe can take some work.

He was not getting away with just copying a few documents, this guy. I already sensed he was trapped between his feelings of homophobia and the new regulations which now required him to treat me equally, a full seven years after the NSW laws had changed.

He managed to squeeze out that he reckoned I had a very good case, and that if a new certificate were to be issued, all the old copies would be recalled for destruction.

Did he need the details of exactly where those fraudulent copies were now?

Yes, he mumbled, shame-faced.

I handed over the names and addresses for him to request the return of the death certificate which had been created for me, long withheld by the funeral director I’d contracted and held in their safe behind a wall of defensiveness and avoidance; and the other at Jono’s family’s disposal, already widely distributed to claim that I, Jono’s surviving spouse, did not exist.

At that, the shit-kicker looked as though he’d shit his pants.

Ironically, it was just a week later, after attending Sydney’s first screening of Brokeback Mountain (the story of two men who could barely come out to one another, let alone live as a couple, the way Jono and I had), that I arrived home to a letter inviting me to collect Jono’s death certificate from the Registry, whenever I was ready.

I could have gotten it from the front desk, but I booked an appointment with the shit-kicker and I made him give it to me, right into my hand.

IN HIS OWN HANDS My friend Prue took this shot of me, Jono's death certificate hot off the press.
IN HIS OWN HANDS My friend Prue took this shot of me, with Jono’s death certificate hot off the press.

There, on the same page, was Jono’s name, and mine, a record of the exact number of years we had been together, and the address we shared on the day he died: the truth which had frightened the homophobes in our lives, finally laid bare in paper form more indelible than any gravestone.

I cried a little, and then I went downstairs to apply for another original of the certificate by filling a form and passing it across the desk with the thick glass screen.

The young woman took the form and immediately shook her head, tapped her finger on my name and Jono’s, and said: “You can’t get this, not when you’re the same gender.”

I was not surprised. I said to her, calmly so as not to set off any security screens or draw the attention of the bouncers, that she was incorrect and needed to ask her manager for some training on this issue. The jaw, that had been munching so enthusiastically on chewing gum, went motionless.

I went upstairs and saw the shit-kicker’s distorted face through the glass as I made the same demand of the managers. Not one of them would come out of their office to meet me.

So I went to the top. I wrote to the NSW Attorney-General, and made a formal request for him to ensure all staff in his department were now made aware, ideally through some kind of training, that same-sex couples were able to apply for their deceased spouses’ death certificates without recourse to anyone.

Perhaps, I suggested, some media releases to the same effect would be an idea?

When his reply was tardy, I went to NSW’s best shit-kicker, Independent MP Clover Moore, who hurried the Honorable Mr. Debus along a little.

We never received more than a staffer’s reply. I guess Attorney-Generals hate to be reminded they need to catch up with the law.

© Michael Burge, all rights reserved.

Michael’s story is published as Questionable Deeds.

The desecration of story

WE'RE WATCHING but we're sick of waiting. Smaug's eye from The Desolation of Smaug.
WE’RE WATCHING but we’re sick of waiting. Smaug’s eye from The Desolation of Smaug.

MASTER storytellers don’t come along very often. You’d think by now we’d have learnt to respect their work.

Mess with the canon of any of these literary icons, and you’ll spark a reaction of such magnitude that it could, in at least one case, cause a war. You see them at the top of the ‘Most Popular Books of All Time’ lists – Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, William Shakespeare, the various authors of The Bible, Homer, Agatha Christie, and, usually scoring two spots for his seminal fantasy titles – John Ronald Reuel Tolkien (1892-1973).

Yet all of these writers’ works have been the subject of translations, adaptations, mash-ups, and spurious references in Doctor Who. It seems there is no end to re-imagining plots that have already proven themselves popular with readers.

The latest on our screens is Peter Jackson’s production of Tolkien’s The Hobbit, the 1937 children’s fantasy which spawned one of the most beloved literary cycles of the 20th century – The Lord of the Rings (1954-55).

Like countless others, I devoured these works in my childhood, so it was strange when I found myself dragging my feet to see The Desolation of Smaug at the cinema.

But that wonderful shot of Smaug, unfurling his great wings, the hapless Lake Town in his sights far below, was every inch the Tolkien moment I was seeking.

Yet before we could ride the crest of the roller coaster, the credits rolled, and, with news that we’d have to wait until Boxing Day a year hence for the third instalment, I heaved a sigh of annoyance.

This was not storytelling. This was commercially delayed gratification.

Peter Jackson’s Hobbit movies will never escape the criticism of taking a simple childrens’ tale and padding it into a three-part prequel to The Lord of the Rings.

We cannot blame Tolkien, of course, but it is worth noting that he created many of his early stories for his children. Imagine what the kids would have thought had Dad told the tale in three episodes, a year between each: they would have lost interest, thought their father a very mean and boring man for withholding, and revolted!

SCRIPT SPOILERS Gandalf and Radgast in search of Sauron.
SCRIPT SPOILERS Gandalf and Radagast in search of Sauron.

About half way through The Desolation of Smaug, with Gandalf off tomb raiding, my sister, not a Tolkien reader, turned to me and asked whether the disembodied shadow of Sauron was actually ‘in’ Smaug the dragon?

It was a good question, considering Gandalf and Radagast were looking for something that Bilbo already seemed to have found.

Tolkien knew how to construct a plot, and he took his time doing it. Not for him the publishing schedule of Harry Potter.

There was a very good reason why Sauron does not appear in The Hobbit: because when Tolkien wrote that childrens’ book, he was unaware how far his mythology would evolve in its sequel.

Tolkien’s collected letters reveal that at the behest of his publishers, the rise of Sauron (known as ‘The Necromancer’ in The Hobbit) was only published in an interesting appendix in The Return of the King.

Writing to a reader of The Lord of the Rings in 1964, Tolkien revealed how he connected the two books with the One Ring.

“The magic ring was the one obvious thing in The Hobbit that could be connected with my mythology. To be the burden of a large story it had to be of supreme importance. I then linked it with the (originally) quite casual reference to the Necromancer [in The Hobbit], end of Chapter. vii and Ch. xix, whose function was hardly more than to provide a reason for Gandalf going away and leaving Bilbo and the Dwarves to fend for themselves, which was necessary for the tale.”

Mythology, which runs through the works of all the writers mentioned, is the archetypal source for all tale-telling. Twist mythological rules, and everything from The Odyssey to Pride and Prejudice is at risk of being deemed, well, boring.

When Jackson and his writing team were coerced by the distributors into three Hobbit films, they needed to pad-out Tolkien’s mythology with endless sequences of Legolas slaying orcs; extensions of famous scenes, such as the dwarves’ escape from the Elven King in barrels down a river; and Gandalf the Grey sniffing his way around graves and towers with Elrond and Galadriel in search of Sauron.

DRAGON VISION Tolkien's own depiction of Bilbo's comversation with Smaug.
DRAGON VISION Tolkien’s own depiction of Bilbo’s comversation with Smaug.

I can accept Legolas, a character who never appeared in The Hobbit, and I can even buy his love interest Tauriel, a totally new creation re-addressing Tolkien’s inherent plot-misogyny, because Jackson and his writers are doing what Shakespeare did with great stories: shaking them around to find stronger, fresher ideas to engage new audiences.

But two master villains – Sauron and Smaug – in the same story is akin to having Moses and Jesus in the same telling of Exodus, or Romeo and Juliet and Mercutio. It’s too crowded to pack a real punch.

ONE RING TWO STORIES Tolkien's One Ring as it appeared in Peter Jackson's films.
ONE RING, TWO STORIES Tolkien’s One Ring as it appeared in Peter Jackson’s films.

Audiences who watch the six-movie Lord of the Rings cycle consecutively will be denied the great tension which Tolkien builds up in The Fellowship of the Ring.

They’ll miss a storyteller’s masterstroke, the linkage of Bilbo’s journey with Frodo’s through the secretion of Middle Earth’s most powerful implement, that plot device of “supreme importance” – in a place no one, not even Gandalf, ever thought to look.

To know the power and significance of the ring above being a handy trick for a hobbit engaged as a burglar, and to know the extent of Bilbo’s real enemy long before he does, is a terrible case of spoilers.

Money people don’t trust writers. They never have, and they probably never will, which is one reason why none of the Lord of the Rings movies ranks anywhere near the top of the Favourite Movies of All Time list, whereas Tolkien’s books rank second only to the stories we rely on to explain our own world’s creation.

creating-waves-cover
BUY NOW

Messing with Middle Earth might not spark a war, but it’s testament to the power of Tolkien’s writing that audiences will pay to see the butchering of his work at the hands of New Line Cinema and Metro Goldwyn Mayer.

© Michael Burge, all rights reserved.

This article appears in Michael’s eBook Creating Waves: Critical takes on culture and politics.