Vale Comrade

Ralph Sawyer: political palette

Ralph "Bunk" Sawyer (1927-2007) was an artist, wharfie, barber, musician and communist. But his enduring work centred on his art and his politics, which were inseparable for most of his life.

The son of the Gallipoli veteran and peace activist Leonard Lynn Sawyer, Ralph was born in Matraville and grew up tough during the Depression around the tips and Chinese market gardens of Mascot, before moving to Ashfield. He sold newspapers after school to help support his family, fetching food from the local grocer "on tick" for his mother, Mabel, when there was no money in the house.

Sawyer's first job was as a copy boy for The Daily Telegraph, where he launched his career as an artist. It was wartime and women's silk stockings were unobtainable. The women at the Telegraph would use "stocking paint", stand on the table and get Ralph to draw "seams" down the back of their legs with an eyebrow pencil.

The Sawyer family helped him study draughting at technical college, but war cut short his studies and he joined the army at 18. Discharged in 1947, he applied to study art at East Sydney Technical College under the Commonwealth Reconstruction Training Scheme, but couldn't get a place. So when his older brother, Peter, offered him an apprenticeship at his barber shop in East Sydney, Ralph Sawyer became a barber.

The 1950s saw the birth of the bodgies and widgies, an early form of teenage counter-culture in which young men and women wore flash clothes, dramatic hairstyles and boasted about sexual promiscuity. Peter's shop was the place for flash young men to have their haircuts. Artists, entertainers, jitterbug dancers, jazz musicians, petty criminals, car salesmen and boxers made it their haunt.

Ralph Sawyer had been taught the cornet as a youth and played the trumpet in the army. After the war he hung out with trombone-playing Vic Worsley at the penny arcade jukebox near the corner of Pitt and Park streets, where they befriended Australian big band legend Ralph Mallen. The musicians would go to Pete's for a haircut and gather around the gramophone in the shop window.

Patrons often stayed to listen to jazz and debate music, art or politics, a beer in hand from the pub across the road. Sawyer, known as Bunk after New Orleans cornet player Bunk Johnson, was already a forceful left-wing debater. Before long he was working "under the hook" on the Sydney wharves and was a member of the Communist Party of Australia.

It was 1955 and a cultural revolution was under way on the waterfront. Under the union leadership of Tom Nelson, the Sydney branch of the Waterside Workers' Federation was the Sussex Street centre for the arts, communism and cabaret. It drew left-wing intellectuals to the wharves, housed the New Theatre and set up a union film unit and an artists' studio, which Sawyer made his second home.

With Clem Millward and Sonny Glynn, he produced hundreds of May Day posters and screen-prints promoting peace, socialism, workers' rights, Aboriginal land rights and liberation struggles. He won an international award for one of his silk-screens.

Under the direction of the artist Rod Shaw, Sawyer worked in an artists' collective on the wharfies' mural, a mammoth work now in the Australian National Maritime Museum that has been compared to that of the internationally recognised Mexican artist Diego Rivera. Sawyer finished the mural after the other artists moved on.

On the wharves he was a member of a work gang known as the Brain's Trust, which included musicians, intellectuals and party activists. Later he joined Gang 505, which refused to load arms to Vietnam and led rolling bans on South African ships during the apartheid years.

He liked to pass on his skills to others, especially the young. He taught art at the National Maritime Museum and screen-printing to Aboriginal youths at Tranby College in Glebe.

A selection of his posters and banners is held at the Powerhouse Museum, the Maritime Museum and the Centre for the Study of Political Graphics in Los Angeles. A reproduction of his 1985 May Day banner was included in the exhibition Working Art: a survey of Art in the Australian Labour Movement at the Art Gallery of NSW. A documentary on his life and works aired on ABC Television.

In his early 20s Sawyer married Elaine Stollery, and they had a son, Tony. They separated before long and Ralph later embarked on a 40-year partnership with Sheila Walsh. He is survived by his son, two grandchildren, his brother, Peter, and sister, Joyce.

(First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, Timelines)

On behalf of Ralph's family

Ralph Sawyer: May Days and murals

I first met Ralph in March 1956 when I began working on the wharves out of the Sussex St pick-up. I had just returned from Romania and Ralph wanted to know all about it.

There was a lot to talk about that year. It was the year that Khrushchev told us about Stalin and it was also the year in which the Russian tanks rolled into Budapest.

A lot to talk about.

We quickly developed a mutual respect and became friends. Some time later we joined the same gang and so we worked together until I left the wharves in 1961.

In those days we had to attend the pick-up in person each morning and wait for our number to be called. On days when we finished up with appearance money, or were given a twilight shift or a midnighter, we had the day to ourselves. Ralph and I would go up to the top floor of the union building where the film unit had their room and I used a bit of the space as a studio to paint in.

Every May Day Leon Lewis and Sonny Glynn would paint the banners for the march up there, and Ralph and I would join in to do whatever we could to help. When Leon was no longer there to letter the signs Ralph took over. He taught himself sign writing, which is a highly skilled and specialised trade and craft.

It is typical of Ralph that he taught himself lettering and sign writing not so that he could make money, but purely and simply to serve the union and the peace movement.

Ralph was multi-talented. He also taught himself screen-printing, again to serve the union and the peace movement. He became very good at it, with one of his posters winning an international peace prize which he went to Moscow to receive.

Ralph also made a significant contribution to the waterfront mural, which was painted on the wall of the canteen in the union rooms. Rod Shaw, working with the wharfies' art group in the early 1950s, began the mural but by 1956 it had been abandoned because the union decided that the wall would be demolished to enlarge the hall. In 1958, when the demolition plans had been forgotten, I began to carry it forward, and Harry Read joined in the work with me. But by 1960 the demolition plan was revived.

Then Harry went to Cuba and I left the wharves in 1961.

The unfinished mural stood on the wall for years, an empty shell of no real meaning or significance until Ralph and Sonny Glynn decided that it had to be finished. When Rod designed it he had purposely left a series of empty spaces scattered through the symbolic pattern of figures to be filled with illustrations of significant moments in union history. Ralph and Sonny set to work and filled in all those spaces, completing it and giving it real meaning and true historical significance.

None of us who worked on it ever imagined that it would become a heritage object to be housed in the National Maritime Museum, as it now is, to be cared for by their professional conservators for as long as they can preserve its fragile surface.

Without Ralph and Sonny it would have been empty and meaningless and would not have been worthy of preservation. It would have been sent to oblivion in a pile of rubble and dust. It is a tribute to them.

I have other personal memories of Ralph - like having a beer with a haircut at Pete's barber shop. A particular memory is the day that Ralph met an old seaman, probably at the Big House or in the canteen. He had a weather-beaten, bent and battered face. Ralph talked him into coming upstairs for me to do a portrait of him. So I worked on it for an hour or two then gave the wet painting to Ralph and forgot all about it.

But Ralph didn't forget. He had it framed, hung it on his wall and lived with it for 50 years. Many years later he reminded me of it and showed it to me. Then, when I went to see him last year when he first went into hospital, he said, "That painting is to go back to you. That's what Sheila wants."

So now I have the painting back, and inevitably whenever I look at it I think of Ralph. I can hear him laughing at that loud-mouthed old sailor who skited to us that he had had 17 wives.

Ralph had a great laugh. It was strong and infectious, always at its best when he was telling a joke about some despised politician or radio shock-jock. I can hear him laughing now and that's how I will remember him.

Clem Millward

Life Member

John Naden: Bosun

(1949 - 2007)

John Naden died in February after a long battle with cancer. Some 4? years earlier he confided in my brother Davey and I about his medical condition. He lived in the Blacktown area of Sydney with his wife, Sheila. He asked us both not to make his illness known.

John and I frequently went to stop work meetings and enjoyed each other's company when he was home from sea. He would give you updates about the treatment being administered. His diagnosis by a doctor in Port Headland was absolute rubbish and John was determined to have a second opinion. It proved a lot worse than the previous diagnosis.

John left his BHP bulkie (he was the bosun) and I am told that the crew kept in touch and looked after him the best they could. Typical SUA comradeship.

As time progressed, John tidied up his affairs, sold his house in Sydney and moved to the Gold Coast where his wife's sister and family were not too far away. I feel he wanted her to be close to her family in case of problems.

He had complete faith in his doctor in Sydney and would fly down when treatment was due and return the same day. Before Christmas 2006, he was over the worst and he was so happy he was in remission.

Alas, the cancer came back and he lost his brave battle.

John shipped out of Liverpool, joined a Scandinavian ship and ended up in New Zealand. He tried to get on the coast, but missed out. He came over to Australia and befriended my brother, Davey Barker, and bonded with him over the years. They were like brothers.

John did a stint on Sydney Harbour. One day I met him and he was down in the dumps and wanted to get on the "Aussie Coast". I approached Laurie Steen, Assistant Branch Secretary of the SUA, and put his case. Two days later he rang me up from Port Kembla and was thrilled to be aboard the Myarra.

I was fortunate to have him aboard the Balder VLCB (very large crane barge) capable of 2,500 tonne lifts and in tandem 4,000 tonnes. Everything aboard was huge and skill and seamanship was of the utmost importance. I was delighted to have him as part of the crew and he was invaluable. John went onto the Era and eventually became a life member. He was always a delegate and loved the life of the merchant navy.

We used to call him Burt Reynolds and he used to call our Davey "David Kipperfield" because Davey came aboard one evening with a pair of "kippers" for supper. Davey put the stove on, started to cook them and went to his cabin to change - but had a little nap. Next thing, alarms were going and the smell through the air conditioning left a lot to be desired. The captain, Barker Simpson, was not impressed. Davey was not impressed that the captain's name was the same as our surname.

Another incident happened at my home. We had Sheila and John come down for a visit. One of our dogs was not well and my wife used to take the dog's temperature from its "backside" for an accurate reading. The thermometer was lying on the lounge table and John, in a quiet moment, decided he would take his own temperature by mouth. He was sitting with his head back with the thermometer protruding from his mouth. My wife and Sheila walked in and asked John what he was doing. He replied that he was taking his temperature and that it was normal. His temperature soared by around 10 degrees when my wife went on to explain to John what the thermometer was used for. John laughed it off and told me not to tell anyone. Ha! Ha!

He had a great knowledge of boxing and could tell you who won, what round, their weight etc. At home he had plenty of framed items, football jerseys and other memorabilia of famous sportsmen.

The service was held at Nerang on the Gold Coast. John's casket was draped in the "Red Ensign".

I would like to thank all those who travelled to the service from far and wide - Blacktown friends and those from New Zealand, the UK and local identities.

If all who knew him had known of his illness, they would have filled one of the two cathedrals of Liverpool.

You'll never walk alone John.

Alby Barker

Life Member: 745

Great shipmate

John Naden was a great shipmate and friend. He will be sadly missed by all who knew him.

John was an extremely good seaman. He was, to put it mildly, a great mentor to the younger members, a great unionist and militant and a great bloke to have a few drinks with.

I was fortunate enough to sail with John for his last eight years at sea when he was bosun on the Iron Kembla. I can truthfully say John was the best bosun I have ever worked with. He made each voyage a lot easier to deal with, quelling any argument or problem that arose in the everyday running of a ship.

Younger members learnt the value and respect of being a seafarer and a member of the union, as well as having a good laugh at the same time.

John started his seagoing career from his birthplace of Liverpool, UK, in the sixties before coming over to ship out of Australia sometime in the late seventies.

He loved the sea life, distrusted shipowners, and had a great penchant for boxing and his beloved soccer team, Liverpool, or "the pool" as he would call them, and an ale or two.

John will be missed greatly, especially by his wife, Sheila, his family, friends and shipmates - especially the "Scouse connection" of Alby and Dave Barker.

Goodbye "La", it's great to have known you.

Allan Johansson

Union No 3908

Daniel Brosnan: man of conviction

I would like to pay tribute to my late father Daniel Joseph Brosnan, who was a staunch unionist and seafarer. He started on the waterfront in the early fifties and joined the MUA in 1955.

As a union delegate he would always stand up for his fellow workers. He may have been liked or disliked but he stood by his convictions, and whenever there was a protest or a May Day march he would always be there with his comrades.

He was also known as Big Danny or Broso. He always welcomed a debate, and was known to argue and disagree with strong language. People who remember him will know what I mean.

My father retired in 1986 and moved to the Central Coast where he built a house at Buff Point. He introduced me to the MUA when I was 16 and I sailed with him many times over the years. He also introduced my cousins John Hoggard -who is still on the waterfront after 40 years - and Anthony Hoggard, who also sailed with my father on many vessels.

Sadly my father passed away at his home in February. I was lucky enough to spend some time with him at Christmas and in the two weeks before he passed away.

I was his only son and he had only one grandchild - his namesake Daniel Brosnan.

Garry Brosnan

Jonny Ray: world diver

(1952-2007)

Jonny was a merchant seaman before becoming a professional diver 30 years ago. He worked in the offshore industry in the North Sea, the Middle East, South East Asia and Australia as a saturation diver and an air diver before he was forced, through illness, to retire in 2006. Jonny was a much loved and respected member of the diving community, a staunch unionist for all his career, and is sorely missed by all who knew him.

He leaves behind his wife Janet, son David and daughter Phillipa.

Jonny loved his work and was exceptionally good at it. I did a few saturation stints with Jonny and I was never happier or felt more secure than when he was my bell partner. I felt secure not just because he was so capable but also because he cared about me like a brother, and that is the way I felt about him.

Jonny had a simple but ideal philosophy about diving and expected the same from every other diver. You liked what you were doing and did it to the best of your ability, but most of all you stuck together against bad management until things were sorted out. I am proud to have been associated with Jonny.

In a profession where everybody knows each other or at least shares common acquaintances, there are a lot of people who are heroes in their own lunchtime. But in all the years I knew him I never heard Jonny gossip about anyone or say anything spiteful about his colleagues.

Jonny never boasted about his diving prowess or tried to do someone down.

Not everybody could live up to Jonny's ideals and that would disappoint him, but that's as far as it went. He was happy to be in the company of those who did share them and everyone he kept close knew they had a true friend in Jonny.

Stu Gerrard

Jimmy Hansen: broken heart

It is with great sadness that I report the passing of my father Jim Hansen at the age of 76 last October. Jimmy's father Jens was a seaman and Jim followed him to sea soon after WWII.

It was at sea that Jim met his lifelong love, Betty. They married in 1955, went to Crowdy Head and stayed forever. He left the sea and went fishing until the mid seventies when he reluctantly left his family to walk up the gangway once again.

After many years as bosun on the Robert Miller and a few others, he retired from the Stolt Australia in '91. Jim was a loving husband, grandfather and father of six kids, four of whom (Danny, Tony, Paul and myself) are or were at sea. I'm sure many of his old shipmates will recall being subjected to a viewing of his treasured family photos more than once.

After retiring, Jim returned to fishing on the old boat he'd owned for over 30 years until arthritis forced him to give it up in '99. When we lost Betty, his wife of 48 years (and our beautiful mum) in 2003 a large part of Jim went too. To his credit he hung in there, enduring failing health and a broken heart, for another three years. He left us quickly and peacefully in the end. As they wished, their ashes were mixed and scattered off the cliff at Crowdy Head. Jim was a genuine and caring man who has taken a wealth of knowledge and tales of the sea with him. Our world is a poorer place without him but a far richer one for having known him. Thanks Jimmy, and farewell.

Ben Hansen

Union N0: 9023302

Ray Burnside: Strait Shooter

Ray Burnside, ex A/B/SUA crossed the bar in March at the Royal Melbourne Hospital after a long battle with cancer. Ray's last job was on the Melbourne tugs and in a twist to this insidious Work Choices the scattering of his ashes on Port Phillip Bay, long the traditional place for ex tuggies when they die was denied. His widow must now go down to Ports Sea with the family to do the job. I said to her to make sure it's on an ebb tide so he will finish up in Bass Strait. Ray, a product of the Tassie ketches and schooners, was an all round seafarer long before the IR classification came in. In those days young boys such as Ray were on deck, up sail, down the engine room and in the galley. Ray could whip a batch of scones without any worries at all. Prior to coming into the union, Ray had sailed engineer for 14 years in the old Wangala on the explosives run from Melbourne to New Zealand and other parts of the coast. Ray's first union job was the Brisbane Trader where I met him and we became very close comrades. Apart from being an excellent seaman/engineer in all ways Ray was an excellent union man- a straight shooter and a very decent human being. It was my pleasure to know him and sail with him especially as he was a Tassie man like me.

Tex Boucher

Retired member