Category Archives: Rebels

Tony and Bern Sutton – equality people

PROUD PARENTS Bernadette and Tony Sutton, of PFLAG Central Tablelands.
PARENTAL PRIDE Bernadette and Tony Sutton, of PFLAG Central Tablelands.

A writer’s encounter with PFLAG.

AS the editor of a regional lifestyle magazine, it’s easy to focus all the content on sumptuous homes and gardens, and interviews with local business icons.

But for me, the job was an opportunity to explore the stories of the district’s many cultural pioneers.

So it was no surprise, when I turned my gaze to LGBTQI heritage, that I came across another groundbreaker – Australia’s first country PFLAG (‘Parents, Families & Friends of Lesbians & Gays’) group, and two of the courageous rural people who were instrumental in starting this much-needed family initiative.

This feature was published in Blue Mountains Life magazine in December 2011.

Out in Bathurst

How one family fosters acceptance in the Central West.

Tony and Bernadette Sutton were brought together by telecommunication – Tony was a telephone technician and Bern worked as a telephonist at a local manual exchange. In 1971, after a five-year courtship, they were married at Coolah’s Sacred Heart Church.

Once settled at Bathurst, the first of their two children, Jeremy, was born in 1972, followed by Anne a decade later. Tony was raised in this proud Central Western community. His father was a local butcher. Bern came to Bathurst from a stock and crop farm near Coolah. Like generations of country families before them, the Sutton’s expectations about family were deeply etched in their history.

“On September 17th 1993, two days after his 21st birthday, our son told his Mum, during a weekend visit home, then returned to Sydney, leaving a letter for me,” Tony recalls of the very moment their lives changed, when Jeremy told them he was gay. “Bernadette held the letter, not being sure how I would take the news. This says volumes about his confidence in his Dad.”

“I read the letter one week later, and though a little numb, I managed it better than Bernadette. I felt terrible about some of the cruel comments I had made in previous years. I was as homophobic as the next bloke.”

Bern particularly had difficulty with questions of faith: “During that first week I would often think ‘I don’t know how I am going to deal with this … what would the family and neighbours say?’,” she recalls. “Gradually I realised I was only thinking of myself and not of Jeremy, who had already been through so much struggle.”

Jeremy Sutton (a Marketing Manager now living in Sydney) recalls his perspective: “Living in Sydney had allowed me to become who I really was, as I never felt like I could do that in Bathurst, so it was time to tell my parents. It was a relief, but it was also a bit like letting the genie out of the bottle. There was no turning back to how things were before. I also felt very guilty – seeing your mother cry is never easy”.

“I thought they would really struggle with it on account of their traditional views and being good Catholics, and I’m sure they did. Deep down I hoped they would find a way to deal with it as they are also incredibly good people. I very quickly received a letter from my father in response to the one I left for him which was very supportive.”

Had anything prepared this family for the challenges that coming out brings?

Tony explains: “We weren’t equipped at all, having been conditioned by society and the official position of our church, and the prejudice promoted by anyone and everyone in authority”.

“We love our boy Jeremy, and told ourselves he was still the same person after telling us, but we were very challenged by community opinion relating to gays and lesbians, but there were some surprising exceptions.

“Luckily for us, our parish priest (being ‘pastoral’) was not constricted by the institutional church. He recommended we speak with another family from out of town who were experiencing the same situation. I clearly remember thinking ‘why would I want to speak to this farming family about this topic?’,” Tony recalls. “How wrong I was!”

“Well, we all leaned on each other, for support, during those first months. It was a relief to find that we were not the only family experiencing such a significant challenge to our beliefs, and the values of what a ‘normal’ family is.

“As we were all Catholic, we used to joke that ‘only Catholics had gay children’. Our initial journey was challenged by Vatican teachings of prejudice and discrimination. Yet in 1994, our local church brought (then Father) Paul O’Shea to Bathurst for World AIDS Day to conduct a workshop in an attempt to counter homophobia.

“As a result of this, and with encouragement from our parish Priest, a meeting on March 14th, 1995, considered the establishment of a support group. Contact was made with PFLAG (‘Parents, Families & Friends of Lesbians & Gays’) in Sydney, and one month later eight people met for the inaugural meeting of PFLAG Bathurst. This was the first rural Australian PFLAG group.”

STANDING TOGETHER Families march under the PFLAG banner the world over.
STANDING TOGETHER Families march under the PFLAG banner the world over.

PFLAG groups worldwide have become the life blood for families and communities seeking to stay together through the coming out process and beyond, but outside cities they often struggle against localised negativity and ignorance.

Tony describes one of he and Bern’s greatest challenges: “To eventually be open with our family and friends, while honouring Jeremy’s trust and privacy”.

“Even now PFLAG is not very prominent in the wider community, especially in rural regions. It began in 1972 in America. Perth, around 1989, had the first PFLAG group in Australia, followed by Melbourne, then Sydney and Brisbane. We are the most westerly group in NSW, though we have tried to get groups going in Dubbo, Broken Hill and Mildura/Dareton.

“Homosexual issues don’t challenge us at all anymore, but we still encounter homophobic comments, even from friends. We are distressed when PFLAG brochures we display in our Catholic cathedral are removed and destroyed by fanatic parishioners, even though we are encouraged to place them there by clergy.

“The wider community are basically ignorant of the true facts about same-sex attraction. They take the lazy path of believing what shock jocks and prejudiced religious literalists promote as ‘gospel’, instead of informing themselves from reliable, accurate and up-to-date material. Jeremy has done us a great service in forcing us to re-evaluate our attitudes to numerous issues in our society. We believe we have become better people as a result.”

Jeremy is very proud of how far his parents have come with PFLAG: “My parents have always liked getting involved, whether it’s the local school, the church, and environmental groups. I even recall going to a peace rally with them once. I think they really like being able to help other parents when they first discover they have a gay child.”

And the journey continues, with all the Suttons getting behind the push for Marriage Equality in Australia.

“We don’t think that ten per cent of society should be denied what the other ninety per cent receive,” Tony says. “They weren’t born gay just so that the ninety per cent majority would have a group to marginalise and allow themselves to feel superior to. They want their committed relationships acknowledged, just like heterosexuals.”

Jeremy agrees: “While a lot of discrimination against gay people has been removed, the fact some still remains gives some people a basis for their prejudices, and gives young gay people another reason to feel inferior or that there is something wrong with being gay. I think everyone knows that one day we will look back at this period with amazement that gay marriage was not legal, the same way we look back at amazement that women once were not allowed to vote.”

Anne Sutton (a primary school teacher living in Victoria) says: “It is ridiculous in such a modern multicultural society that we are still against such a simple thing as two people of the same-sex being joined together in marriage.”

The last of the immediate Sutton family to know about her brother’s sexuality, Anne felt less need for PFLAG. “Since leaving Bathurst I have lived in cities which have had an accepting nature towards gay and lesbian individuals. I think that we have been brought up in a generation which is accepting of homosexuality and has not felt the need for support or to formally offer that support to anyone else.”

From the perspective of his generation, Tony says: “PFLAG is still needed in rural and isolated areas. Communities in these regions can tend to be more conservative, and less tolerant of difference. Rural youth suicide undoubtedly has an element of homosexual despair – no one can ever know to what degree.”

Tony and Bern continue to spread the PFLAG message throughout rural mental health networks, but the results are often frustrating. “Where services are founded on a Christian platform, we often see a typical institutional religious prejudice. The lack of response on this issue can be very disappointing,” Tony says.

“Even when same-sex marriage is approved, PFLAG will still be needed. Parents will experience a range of emotions when they first hear news that their son or daughter is gay or lesbian. Support will still be sought and supplied by PFLAG.

PLUCK COVER copy“During Jeremy’s adolescence relations between him I were rather strained most of the time,” Tony recalls. “Following our acceptance of his sexuality, things have never been better. It’s great!”

PFLAG Central Tablelands (Bathurst) 6331 7267 or 0407 336 020.

© Michael Burge, all rights reserved.

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

Margaret Betts – tree planter

SHE-OAK Hawkesbury cattle farmer Margaret Betts (Photo
SHE-OAK Hawkesbury cattle farmer Margaret Betts (Hawkesbury Gazette).

A Writer’s encounter with a rural rebel

MY two decades of research on the descendants of Mary Pitt eventually led me to the Hawkesbury Valley, where many of Australia’s first settlers were granted land for the purposes of contributing to the survival of the fledgling colony by farming.

With their indelible link to their benefactor Lord Nelson, the two Pitt family farms were named, at different times, ‘Nelson’ and ‘Trafalgar’, in the wake of Nelson’s great 1805 maritime victory at the Battle of Trafalgar.

Finding these original land grants took time.

Nelson Farm had gone by another name for many years, but, as I was to discover, it was still under the stewardship of an indefatigable woman. This feature was published in Blue Mountains Life in June-July 2010.

Out on a Limb

How Margaret Betts reforested an original Hawkesbury farm

On Nelson Farm near Agnes Banks stands a house known as Bronte, with uninterrupted views of the Blue Mountains.

Even before this region became the cradle of modern Australian agriculture, the fertile river flats yielded food for generations of Aboriginal people.

The house is positioned on an 1802 hundred-acre grant of land to Thomas Pitt. Originally called Nelson Farm, the property was amalgamated with adjacent land granted to Thomas’ mother Mary Pitt and renamed Bronte.

This name remembers British naval hero (and Mary’s benefactor) Lord Horatio Nelson, first Duke of Bronte.

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HAWKESBURY HOUSE Bronte on Nelson Farm (Photo: Mary Matcham Pitt family history website).

Mary Pitt’s land grant was eventually sold off, although Bronte remained in the family until 1919.

The impressive mid-Victorian building is not the original, but from Castlereagh Road, the giveaway stands of hoop pine (Araucaria cunninghamii) and bunya trees (Araucaria bidwillii) reveal traces of the original settlers’ use of the land.

Many Hawkesbury heritage properties are open to the public or have become public places, but Bronte on Nelson Farm has always been in private hands, and a working farm since 1802.

The current owner, Margaret Betts, has lived there since 1998, and her parents William and Mary farmed the land since 1955.

“Dad did the hard work and Mum did the reading,” Margaret says, recalling her parents’ years as dairy farmers at Bronte. “They were both from logging country, so they were both what you’d call ‘old school’ farmers,” Margaret relates. “Trees, to them, were just something that sapped-up the goodness out of the soil.”

Mary Betts’ wariness about trees on dairy country became particularly pertinent in 1998, when an enormous oak tree came down in the westerly wind the night after she died, an event which made the local news.

Margaret recalls many such nights taking their toll on the few trees left on the property, and she realised “that if we didn’t do something about it, there’d be nothing left.”

Margaret knew the farm’s history, including the years when her father leased acreage to vegetable farmers with a strict stipulation to leave the stands of Casuarina running down the spine of the property towards the river. “They killed the lot,” Margaret remembers, “and they were original trees on the property.”

For someone who spent her career teaching music and in school administration, continuing her parents’ work at Bronte seems like a totally new angle for Margaret, but I get the feeling she sees farming as something in her genes, and that common sense counts for more than experience.

Margaret had a plan to develop beef production at Bronte, with very different needs to dairy farming, and certainly requiring a lot more shade than vegetable fields provided.

“I could have counted the remaining trees on one hand,” she recalls, “and I needed to do my research,” Margaret stresses.

“This region is part of the Cumberland Plain, in terms of its vegetation. If I was going to plant a large amount of trees I needed to know they were going to be viable.

BUNYA PINE Araucaria bidwillii (Photo: Bidgee)
BUNYA PINE Araucaria bidwillii (Photo: Bidgee)

“We’ve had hoop pine and bunya growing here for well over a hundred years. The settlers planted those, and even though they’re not native to this region, they’ve done well.

“At one stage the bunyas at Bronte were described as the largest stand in the western suburbs, but they’ve very much diminished in recent decades.

“I propagated seedlings from ours and they came up no problem.

“Hoop pines need shelter to get established, but the bunya trees just take off. There were also a few Kurrajong trees (Brachychiton populneus), and quite a few local gum trees which I assumed would do well.”

“But I also remembered the Casuarinas, which are local,” Margaret says. “In my research I found they were one of the only trees which soak up pesticides.”

With high use of pesticides on all sides of her property, Margaret had stumbled on a natural solution to an age-old problem.

The planting of trees did nothing for relations with her neighbours, particularly the vegetable farmers. “They thought I was destroying good farming land,” Margaret says, “so I got a lot of abuse. I still do, only last week one of them was shouting at me over the fence. I just wave back,” she laughs.

“I taught many of them, so they know what I’m like,” she hastens to add, illustrating how her resolve to reforest Bronte has never wavered.

After failed attempts to establish Landcare groups in the area, Margaret realised that if she was going to succeed then she needed to take action on her own. She also discovered that the tree problem was not just apparent above ground – the local water table was severely degraded.

After generations of development, the original reservoirs and lagoons of the Agnes Banks region had become choked with weeds (including water hyacinth and alligator weed), and polluted with litter and sewerage.

Insufficient drainage and water retention from nearby farms meant the water supply for Bronte was contaminated, and that affected Margaret’s cattle with outbreaks of salmonella.

The water problem only seemed to sharpen Margaret’s resolve. “At one stage I was planting around thirty trees a day, I must’ve planted thousands of them over twelve years,” she recalls.

“If you looked out here in 1998,” she says, throwing an arm out to the vista above the nearby Hawkesbury River and distant Yarramundi Lane, which is her western border, “there were only these trees close to the house and little else.”

Now, in a great green belt below Bronte is a reforested barrier of green, mainly Casuarina (river she oak, and swamp she oak), looking more like the glimpses of natural bush at the foot of the Mountains across the river. Twelve years seems like barely enough time for this result.

“The cows love the shade, they’re up here under the trees by seven o’clock on a hot day. The trees have also brought the birds back,” Margaret adds, which surely must annoy the vegetable farmers, I suggest.

“Birds are a natural pesticide,” Margaret replies.

“The water table has been improved so much with those trees,” she indicates, and indeed there are shallow lakes at intervals along the lowest points of the property.

“It’s made me more conscious of water,” Margaret says, “but we need clean water,” she adds, explaining that drainage problems caused by the use of poultry litter as fertiliser on higher-set nearby farms, combined with ineffective Council drainage along the road, contributes to the continual pollution of Bronte’s water table.

The solution was to drill a bore. “Dad was an excellent water diviner,” Margaret recalls. “He found the old wells on the property that way,” illustrating how Bronte’s past has once again become a part of its future.

The Department of Environment and Climate Change Cumberland Plain Recovery Plan draft document of November 2009 suggests private land holders like Margaret are on the right track: “Conservation of the rich biodiversity of the Cumberland Plain in western Sydney is one of the most challenging issues facing natural resources management in New South Wales,” the introduction states.

“Extensive loss and fragmentation of vegetation has occurred, land values are high, and competing land uses are placing extraordinary pressures on the remaining areas of bushland in the region.”

“You’ve really got to take care of your patch, and keep at it,” Margaret says. “I won’t see most of what I’ve planted come to anything, but others will,” she adds, indicating the hoop pine saplings she propagated and planted, trees which will stand long after their parents have fallen.

© Michael Burge, all rights reserved.

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

 

Lottie Lyell – the sentimental girl

SENTIMENTAL FAVOURITE Silent screen star Lottie Lyall (1890-1925).
SENTIMENTAL FAVOURITE Silent screen star Lottie Lyell (1890-1925). (Photo: ScreenSound Australia).

A Writer explores an untimely death.

LIVING in Australia’s Blue Mountains, it’s hard to ignore one tragic element of the locality’s heritage – the tuberculosis epidemic.

Situated at almost 1000 metres above sea level, the area spawned an industry of public and private sanatoria for countless people who retreated from Sydney in an attempt to recover from this infectious disease in the years before antibiotics provided an effective cure.

Previously unexplored insights into the tale of one tuberculosis patient who convalesced in the Blue Mountains – Australia’s great silent film actress Lottie Lyell – formed part of this feature about her story, published in Blue Mountains Life in 2011.

The sentimental girl

Unravelling the Blue Mountains Mystery of film maker Lottie Lyell.

Widely regarded as Australia’s first international film actor, Lottie Lyell had been a star for a decade by the time The Picture Show of February 1921 revealed she was recovering from “A serious illness”, but that she would: “… appear on the screen again.”

Convalescing in the Blue Mountains in the same month, Lottie had a very good reason for keeping the true nature of her condition from the press.

Since her 1890 birth in the working class suburb of Balmain, Lottie had been in the path of one of the most serious illnesses of her age – tuberculosis (TB).

The tuberculosis industry of the Blue Mountains is the subject of two new books which shed light on how TB defined family fortunes and caused social stigma.

When considering the case of Lottie’s family, author Dr. Brian Craven says that on the basis of her sister Rita’s death of TB in 1911, they would have been “In serious trouble”. Due to TB’s chronic nature, Brian suggests Rita might have carried infectious TB bacteria for a considerable period of time.

“In a community where TB was rife, you could get it from anywhere,” Brian outlines, explaining how Balmain’s colliery would have added to the risk of contracting the disease. “One group who got TB was coal miners of any sort. Once you got silicosis, your lungs were stuffed up and it was very easy for TB to take over.”

385px-TB_poster

Brian proposes that since Lottie’s father Joseph Cox was a real estate agent, collecting rents in a close-knit community, he would have been in regular proximity to TB sufferers.

Valerie Craven (research assistant to her husband Brian) explains why many sufferers kept their illness a secret – “TB was socially unacceptable in the sense that it was considered something the underprivileged got. If the family was poor, they usually couldn’t afford to do anything about it.”

Charlotte Cox took elocution and acting lessons in her mid teens. By nineteen she was in regular paid acting work onstage using her stage name Lottie Lyell.

Her meeting with Raymond Longford has become the stuff of legend. They were colleagues in the 1909 theatrical tour of An Englishman’s Home in which Lottie played his daughter, despite being only 12 years his junior.

Longford and Lyell probably began their relationship then. He was a married father, but divorce was not an option.

The stage careers of both actors dwindled once they embraced the opportunity and innovation of film production. Longford acted in and directed movies from 1911, creating a spectacular lead role for Lottie with The Romantic Story of Margaret Catchpole in the same year.

“For picture work you must be pretty good at all sorts of athletic sports,” Lottie recounted of the shoot to The Theatre magazine. “I had, in the depth of winter to jump into the water from a cliff thirty feet high, and then swim some distance out of range of the camera … handicapped by old period, masculine attire.”

The movie was praised for its unique Australian qualities, and its home-grown production team.

The deaths of Lottie’s sister and father at the time her screen career took off must have had a tempering effect on a close family who accepted Lottie’s unorthodox lifestyle.

The survivors moved by 1913 to Sydney’s Eastern Suburbs, where Longford moved in with Lottie and her mother. The relocation suggests an attempt to escape the risks of TB in Balmain.

SCREEN CLASSIC Lottie Lyall in Raymond Longford's The Sentimental Bloke (1919).
SCREEN CLASSIC Lottie Lyell as Doreen in Raymond Longford’s The Sentimental Bloke (Photo: ScreenSound Australia).

Lyell and Longford worked together on a string of films over the next decade. Their greatest surviving collaboration was The Sentimental Bloke, released in 1919.

Based on C.J Dennis’ best-selling poem, directed by Raymond and filmed on the streets of Sydney’s dockside Woolloomooloo, the film tells the romantic comedy of Bill, a larrikin who falls for Doreen, a working class girl (played by Lottie).

The movie set box office records in Australia and was distributed in Britain, New Zealand and the United States.

Lottie must surely have been Raymond’s choice for a lead role in his next production, an adaptation of Steele Rudd’s Dad & Dave comedy On Our Selection (1920). But she didn’t appear before the camera, she co-wrote the screenplay. The explanation given was her “serious illness”.

Brian Craven’s book reveals that symptoms of TB meant compulsory notification to health authorities in NSW at this time. The persistent cough, and the coughing-up of blood, would have been very hard for Lottie to conceal.

“You were never cured of TB,” Brian outlines. “The disease was only arrested, encapsulated in the lungs. Life was not too hard. Rest and good food, the removal of worry, light duties. These were important factors in your survival.”

“If you were a poor person you had to wait, wait and wait on someone’s death to obtain a place in a TB asylum,” Valerie adds.

There is little doubt Lottie convalesced in a private hospital – an option providing more anonymity to those who could afford it. A telegram from the Melbourne premiere of On Our Selection in February 1920 was sent to Lottie at a private address in Katoomba.

Far from the favourable response to Lottie’s newest movies (including her reprisal as Doreen in Ginger Mick), she seems not to have dwelt on what TB kept her from. Instead, what happened next suggests Lottie saw great possibilities in being holed up in Katoomba.

While convalescing throughout 1920, Lottie probably adapted her next screenplay The Blue Mountains Mystery from a novel (The Mount Marunga Mystery by Harrison Owen). Raymond and Lottie directed it together in 1921.

The Cravens explain that TB sufferers were advised to recover at a high altitude, allowing less atmospheric pressure to work on their lungs. It might have been for this reason that the movie wasn’t shot at a studio in Sydney, but entirely on location one thousand metres above sea level at Katoomba. The Blue Mountains were a stand-in for Harrison’s fictitious rural setting.

Key scenes for the murder mystery were filmed at the Carrington Hotel, including the iconic ballroom. Production stills show the studio-like scale of the rooms, allowing heavy-duty film lighting and a sizeable crew.

Apart from production stills, The Blue Mountains Mystery does not survive, unless, like The Sentimental Bloke (mis-labelled The Sentimental Blonde in the United States until 1973), a surviving reel comes to light.

Lottie’s appearance in these stills show a healthy-looking woman very much at the heart of the action. One journalist (writing in The Picture Show) pondered why she was co-directing and not acting.”I love the acting,” Lottie said, “but I was too interested in the directing work to get in front of the cameras myself.”

Despite her condition, Lottie was not pessimistic about her chances. “Ten years I have been in pictures … and I hope to be always connected to them in some way or another”. An admission of the need to slow down, or the desire to embrace her skills as a writer-director?

STUNT WOMAN Did Lottie Lyell's stunt performances contribute to her untimely death?
SKILLED HORSEWOMAN Did Lottie Lyell’s stunt performances contribute to her untimely death?

Production remained at high altitude in the Megalong Valley for the filming of Rudd’s New Selection. Lottie played Nell Garvin, working stunts for the camera on horseback.

There was a saying about surviving TB – “If you can sit down don’t stand. If you can lie down don’t sit.” Brian Craven agrees – “If you didn’t do anything stressful, then you could recover, otherwise, you’d go down with the symptoms.”

Lottie explained what horseback stunts required for her earlier role as Margaret Catchpole – “It is not simply a matter of sitting a trot or a canter … I have often had to take a three feet hurdle.”

Her return to acting took its toll. Stills from Rudd’s New Selection show her appearance had dramatically worsened.

The Cox family’s 1921 move to Roseville on the bushy outskirts of Sydney suggests another attempt to accommodate Lottie in a place better suited to worsening TB.

Far from avoiding stress, she and Longford embarked on an ambitious business plan with the Longford-Lyell Picture company, for which Lottie wrote more screenplays and acted in The Dinkum Bloke (1923). There were no stunts this time, only the supporting role of Nell Garvin, for which Lottie played a deathbed scene.

Life imitated art two years later. Only months after her younger sister Linda succumbed to TB, Lottie also died in December 1925. Her death certificate revealed she suffered from pulmonary and laryngeal tuberculosis. She was 35.

Tragically, Longford’s divorce was finally granted just weeks later. Lottie had appointed him her executor and primary benefactor. His later career never re-captured the prolific years of collaboration with Lottie, and over three decades later he was buried beside her.

Lottie Lyell defined the roles of women in Australia’s film industry very early – as actors, but also as writers, directors and producers. She was one example amongst thousands of TB sufferers who convalesced in the Blue Mountains, but did not allow chronic illness to define them.

pluck-cover
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Sources and further reading:

Photo Play Artiste by Marilyn Dooley.
The Shoulders of Giants by Dr. Brian Craven.
The Healing Mountains by Gwen Silvey. 

© Michael Burge, all rights reserved.

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