TonyMcnally website

Leaving for Canada and the U.S.A. ( I nearly get killed in Liberty City). Actual time has been distorted in this effort...as there were some comings and goings..There were trips back and forth depending on circumstances between North America and Australia ..1984 onwards mostly..A lot were on behalf of my NY company...and i moved around a lot of places a couple of weeks at a time...

The day I left for Canada a most amazing and scary happening took place. The day started pretty normally, I had a chat with Rhi and explained again that it would only be a few months, or less, before they could all come over to Montreal. I figured it would take about three months to get all the fares and set up money. She did not seem too unhappy, but still was pretty uncommunicative, rather matter of fact. The only strange thing was that the kids had been sent to the beach and didn't seem to realise that I was going away. I had been away on an extended field trip for about six weeks before, and there had been week, and two week long road trips. So I suppose this thought of three months wasn’t a big deal. Our lodger and sales trainer Howard plus a couple of my friends came to say goodbye and have a couple of drinks. We had just settled into a conversation, when there was a large knock on the door and a loud voice shouted out my name. There were three detectives, they shouted out my name, and they told me that I had to go down to the station with them. For, they needed to ask me some questions down at the Bondi lock-up. Rosen--- the previous landlord was there as well, probably for identification purposes, to point me out.

On arrival I was ushered into a room and presented with a 9mm handgun and a box of ammunition. I was surprised and asked what it had to do with me, for I didn't own a gun, nor had I ever seen this one. On further questioning it became clear that they knew it wasn't mine. It seems it was left in a previous flat, and discovered after we moved out. It seemed that it was found wrapped in newspaper on top of a high corner closet, probably during repainting. However that was some months before! It could have been there years and Howard was the only other guy that stayed over at the apartment when we worked together, and I actually didn't see him with a gun.

However it all seemed a coincidence that I was picked up on the day my plane left. The Police made oblique references to leaving the country. However it also could have been the cops just saying, 'don't leave town'. Whilst I was being questioned I heard Howard, my friend, work associate, and a fellow Liverpudlian, arrive at the front desk, inquiring to why I had been picked up. I could hear the sergeant saying something about a firearm, and Howard saying he'd never seen me with a gun. ( It was more than likely Howard's).After some intense questioning and a lot of sweating on my part, they let me go. They said that the only reason they weren't holding me, was that I wouldn't be leaving the country. I thought that was very strange as I would be boarding a plane for Canada that very afternoon, which I didn''t mention of course.

It seemed that the real estate agent, Rosen from the Estate Agents, who leased us the flat on Warner's Avenue, had found the hand gun after we had moved out of the flat, but that was months before. It could have been there for years. The man from the Real Estate, it seems had handed the pistol over to the Bondi Police. He was the same one accused of asking, or attempting to ask, for sex from my wife, so she said. She was supposed to be paying him off on some back rent, which couldn’t be that much, a week or two at most, from the previous apartment. She said she was paying him 5 dollars a week, which seemed ridiculous as we had plenty of money. In retrospect it was just a cover for him coming around to the flat, and I don't believe we could have owed much rent, if any at all. The scumbag must have been hanging around again, using it as an excuse to prey on women, but Rhi was pregnant!!!!!????

The other thing was when we left that flat I used the Brisbane references and there was no way that Rosen would have known where Rhi had moved to unless she had told him or they met somewhere. I had made sure we covered our tracks completely; So there was more to the story than meets the eye, and Rosen must have alerted the police that I was leaving town and where I lived. And he could have only got that information from Rhi. Same old story!!! a story with sexual overtones and mental inferences.( Perhaps Rosen was in the same therapy group also, or perhaps there were other reasons for his interest?).

This event had ramifications later when in 1981 the AUSTRALIAN FEDERAL POLICE and QLD STATE Police raided my home in Brisbane at dawn supposedly as I was a gun-runner or some cock and bull story....I was entertainment for the neighbours for at least a week....I was mister big hahahahahahaha. It was a set up over a business situation only, but it showed that everything you have done and not done is kept on the files.....

(I later found out, twenty three years later, 1990, in Brisbane,from a previous boss of mine, Howard Shepherd, that the real estate agent had been, trying it on, asking my wife for sex, on one occasion when I was away on the road. I had no proof of this, and Rhi was a stranger to the truth a lot of the time.)

Where did the agent get the information,that I was flying out that particular day, especially as we were renting from a new agency? I suppose I shall never know what really happened. It may have been all coincidence or somebody else had 'dobbed me in' so to speak. Or perhaps the Police had tracked me to the new apartment as a matter of course? However Rosen was outside with the police, probably to identify me!! So only he would have known about the gun in the apartment, as he was the agent or landlord.

I left that day for Canada, Howard and two friends saw me off at the airport.First I went down to the beach to say goodbye to the kids, and tell them that I would see them in 3 months, little did we know that it would be 2 years. I left Howard boarding at my place and in a good job at work, that I had given him. He was supposed to stay boarding until Rhi and the kids left for Canada. He also wanted to come over and run an office for me in Canada. Unfortunately he didn't pay his rent, on time,ended up taking drugs, he lost his job without me being there, and later he disappeared, back to Manchester, England, I believe. I was still sailing on in blissful ignorance of what was going on around me, I really was in a karmic dream. There were always mysteries around Rhi, and the truth would come out later. There were always strange people, who seemed to have problems, mentally. Some girls Rhi would say were hookers or strippers, or singers, and I wondered where she met all these strange, delusional people. Some, I even had to chase away! from her friends. Also Rosetta Rhi would have realised she would not have passed the medicals due to her medical history in Australia and she was afraid to fly to boot....Both these conditions were unknown to me and she let me go without mentioning them; So my departure apparently suited her...knowing she would not be following as expected.

‘North America."

I arrived in Toronto, in the winter time, and was exposed to its abominable climate first hand. I had to work outside in it! I did very well and made a few hundred dollars and, after a week there, we drove up to Montreal. I was happy to go to Montreal for Toronto was not my kind of city, even though I made good money whilst I was there. I was like a boy from the bush, the culture shock was almost overpowering, although I did speak some French. I was adaptable, so I soon adjusted to the North American way and started to do well in my job. I would have the airfares in no time at all. Also I was sending a weekly bank draft to Rose, for support, as much as a man made in a week, in Australia in those days.

Two things happened to change all this, first of all my manager Cliff Deleon, didn't like me for I was brash and independent. He also thought that I didn't look like a District Manager. North America was still somewhat conservative in some areas and I dressed in the modern fashion. I had longer hair, a moustache, long side-burns and I dressed with paisley patterns and other "Sergeant Pepper", type clothes. This was fine in Australia, which was more fashionable, by a long chalk, but not so much in Toronto business.

Also Cliff’s friend in Australia, Harding Richards, ( they had both worked in the easy market of South Africa together),who I used to work for, before transferring to another division of the company, held a grudge against me. This was for leaving his drunken, alcoholic, brother, Jim, and going to work for the President's Division; As if, I was given any choice, in the matter. So this guy wasn't going to give me an even break, and didn't. A friend of mine, John Stepah, even heard the boasting about my eventual demise, in the Sydney office. John even castigated them, saying that I was a family man, and that they shouldn't be doing this kind of thing; Causing me to be fired in a far off land, without regard to the fact that I had a family to support, and no permanent work visas. My production was good, so they couldn’t fire me for non-performance.(Cliff Deleon came down to Sydney some years later, for PF Collier's, when I was running a ILSC deal and he failed miserably, which takes some doing in Australia).

The second event that disturbed me was that Rhi called me and gave me a torrent of abuse, saying that she had met a girl that had been engaged to me! This was another impossible, outrageous, fantasy and I think she must have met someone at one of her meetings, who had briefly worked with the company, and had fantasies. There were a couple of girls, working as salesladies, for a while, but I wasn't involved with them, or any others. I had no opportunities even if I was interested anyway. Or it all could have been made up, anyway I didn’t understand it.

Anyway she said that I could stay in Canada, and that she and the kids wouldn't be coming over, and that was that. So we were now separated, but the idea of losing the kids was hard to take. (In retrospect I think this was probably another manic episode and a useful excuse not to come to Canada, as I knew she wouldn't have cared about the girl story). I think she was taking some advice on how to set herself up with an income, and house from the authorities, although I was sending weekly money, equivalent to an average wage in Australia. As it happened this is exactly what did happen.Unfortunately Rose told the kids, and others, that I had deserted them, and this would cause me trouble much later on. I also found out some years later that she had a phobia about flying and this could have been a component of her mental condition as well. In fact when I left Australia, at the end of January 1968, the family was supposed to follow...So she knew that then---that is, she wouldn’t be coming over). I wouldn't have made the move myself if I knew the family wasn't coming over of course, plus I already had a good job as a Sales Manager, in Sydney.

The President of the company also knew that I was separated and I hadn't told anyone. So this information must have come from Australia independently, and probably from Rhi via another employee, Australian Regional, Larry Bird. Who was from Texas and was close to Joe Pal, the President of the company. He had helped Rhi move into a new house, out in Liverpool area, and had advanced some money as well, against my company account, although I was sending weekly money at the time. And so he should as I had backed him in the job he had and I would suffer for it.So he must have reported the fact that Rhi was not coming to Canada before I knew myself. It was an opportunity for her to get out of the marriage as well, which had been only held together by the children and financial considerations..I had to agree with her on that one, but it was still losing the kids, for me even if I was not overly concerned about separating from Rhi.

This event made a major difference to my psychology, and I wasn’t too sure about what was going to happen next. Montreal was a great town, so I just continued on, going to the same clubs and such. I had no girlfriends, but I met a girl, Marie, from ‘Chateaugay Centrale’, who had originally come from France. I used to meet her on the weekend, and we would go to the Copa Cabana, on La Rue de Ste. Catherine. It was a dance club really, and I hung out there a little. They called me ‘sleepy’, for after a few drinks, I usually fell asleep. I wasn’t going to make much of a drinker. My friend Roger Jones, used to come along and he would escort Marie’s sister, to make it easier all round. Marie had broken up recently with her boyfriend, and it looked for a while like we could end up seeing each other more often. However to put it in her own words, ‘ I didn’t have time to sew the buttons back on your coat.’ If i had an apartment no doubt we would have had a sexual relationship, as it was going that way. However guests were not allowed overnight at the YMCA and she lived at home.

I was demoted and transferred to Miami Florida. Although I did have a letter, saying that I was working, in training, and over time I entered on this letter to train....and sometimes just vacation...Never in more than 6 months at a time....

I had to work within strict boundaries with a trainee, and it was nerve racking, for I was back as a door-to-door salesman. The police were always hassling me and I was worried about being picked up. I actually was picked up quite a few times and jailed and fined for not having a sales permit. I was promised that I would be given a manager’s job, but this wasn’t immediately forthcoming. Even though I was the only one with a track record of several management jobs.

Rhi had, later taken up with an Italian fellow, Ross, and all seemed fine to her, no doubt. Our Housing Commission number came up as well, so she had moved into her own Affordable Government Housing. We had been on the list for six years, which seems a long time. At the time of course, I knew little of all this, and so I felt that I had somehow let everybody down. I probably didn’t even need to keep sending the money either; For, she was on the pension, from the government, and the house rent was minimal less than twelve dollars $A, a week. That actually did start to dry up anyway, as I couldn’t function very well. Anyway my drinking increased and there seemed to be no way out of my situation, plus in those days airfares were prohibitively high, the airlines were exploiting people terribly. In 1998 dollars it would have cost almost $4,000 for a single ticket to Australia and wages were under $100 per week. So here I was in a strange country, just been fired, and just lost my family. I was in a bad way psychologically and if it were not for my friends, John Carey and Jeith Dosanjh, who put me up, I don't know what I would have done.

My friend Roger Jones from Montreal came and worked for a few weeks, which was helpful to me. Roger had been very helpful in Montreal as well, especially when I was under attack from the Head Office. He was from Britain, like myself and had something in common, but he, also was fired, by this martinet, in Toronto.

John and Jeith were drinkers and John put on free beer for the staff most nights, at Mulvaneys Tavern, so I was able to drink as much as I wanted. This was an Irish Pub and the owner’s father had come from Liverpool. So we had much in common. I lived with John and we also drank at home until the early hours. I couldn’t possible keep up with John, but I tried, and I felt that I wasn’t an alcoholic, but an habitual drinker!!!!!!!

This drinking put us in a dangerous situation one particular night in the "Biscayne Bar and Grill". I was talking to a couple at the bar, after I had sung some Irish and Rugby songs. The man was Black and the Lady was white, anyway John came over and had a row about something or other. He asked me what I was doing talking to ‘Bloody Abos’. He then picked the guy up and threw him out of the bar, of course everyone was drunk. Later as we were leaving, he returned with a handgun and was waving it around, dangerously, pointing it at John and myself. I thought he would shoot John for sure, and perhaps some of us also. However John managed to talk him down and sent him to some bar, where there were promotional drinks or something, but it was a close call; Apparently John was somewhat prejudiced.

One thing I should have done, was to have taken a trip to Bimini, in the Bahamas. We had many students working for the company in Miami and included in them were a young lady named Phyllis and her friend Ray. One evening I received a visit from Phyllis inviting me to go on a scuba-diving trip to Bimini. She said that some people she knew had found some ruins just beneath the surface there. The name Valentine seems to ring a bell but I could be wrong. These were the ruins of Atlantis that Edgar Cayce said would appear in 1968. I had visa problems so I declined but she said something strange to me. She told me that I would remember. I would remember being in that area of Atlantis, probably 12,500 years ago, or whenever. The expedition probably thought I could guide them to the "the Temple of the Great Crystal, perhaps, or Tuaoi Stone"? How she knew this about me, she didn't say but the next year she would talk to me about a Sai Baba, for she spent three months on His ashram in India.

My first road trip was up to Mobile Alabama via Orlando and Gainesville, with a couple of representatives. They were from Ohio and had served in the Army in Europe and were looking for something interesting to do. We managed well until we got to Mobile and we ran out of money. So we used a portable b-b-q and cooked chicken in the woods, and when the office opened again in Miami had money sent up to Mobile as it was a Holiday weekend. It was a good trip and we swam at Pensacola and Panama City Beaches

I eventually I got friendly, with a young lady, Diana Blythe, from West Lafayette, with whom I worked in Miami. She was a cute girl and very typically American. At this time the students at the office, had nicknamed me the Leprachaun, due to my Irish background.

I did a few road trips with Jeith up to Coco Beach and Cape Canaveral, and really enjoyed Florida. I really got together with Diana, on this trip also, for she indicated that she more than liked me, and that she would like us to go together. So a rather stormy relationship ensued, without any hope of it going anywhere at all, although she was the first girl that I had 'full sexual relations' with since I was married. This was due more to lack of opportunity, money, an apartment, and preferring to drink, rather than anything else; Mostly preferring to drink, which is not uncommon in Australia amongst young men..I had come close a few times though and had some sexual experiences. Also my experience with my marriage and my life gave a somewhat jaundiced view of relationships.

On one occasion, I was swimming with my friend Jeith Dosanjh, or rather we were lying on air-beds, sunbaking. It was a lovely day and a beautiful beach and brown pelicans were diving for fish. Jeith and I just lay on our lilos and watched the birds in their graceful dives, and there were dozens of them. This went on for sometime then we noticed a disturbance in the water. The diving was still going on but there was a flurry of activity in the surf. We then noticed something else in the water, dorsal fins! Jeith said "Tony look at all the dolphins". I looked, and realised straight away that they were sharks, for I was familiar with them, from living in Australia. We were surrounded by a pack of sharks in a feeding frenzy. There were dorsal fins flashing all around us and we were only on rubber lilos. The sharks were feeding on the pelicans. They were taking them as they dived under the water to fish. So obviously there was blood in the water and the sharks were after anything that moved. I said to Jeith "they aren't dolphins they are sharks I recognise them, those fins are the fins of sharks." Jeith, who had an Oxford English Accent said, "my dear fellow what are we to do?" So I told him to keep calm, don't splash the water, so as not to attract them and paddle carefully for the shore. Unfortunately we were facing the wrong way for the shore and some sharks were passing between us, and the safety of the beach. We had drifted a fair way out so we had to paddle strongly. I was very calm but Jeith was not so composed never having been exposed to sharks before. I told him not to splash but he was having difficulty turning around. Then wouldn't you know he fell off his lilo and was splashing like mad trying to get back on. I was really worried about the sharks being attracted by the splashing and making a run at us. I continued to talk to him and urging him to stay calm and at the same time I was saying my "Hail Marys". Somehow we both made it to shore and I noticed that I was completely calm. As soon as we beached I went and informed the lifeguards and they said that it was dolphins but they would go and look. On returning they said that it was a pack of sharks and they sounded the alarm. That was a close call, but I loved the beach, as it was an escape, as it had been in Bondi. I always thought of the sea as ‘Ma Mere La Mer’, my mother the sea. It seemed to take my mind off some of my problems. The main one being that right now, I needed to make some money. I thought perhaps that if I moved to a different city, I would be able to make money again.

So shortly afterwards, I was transferred to Indianapolis, for the summer. However it wasn’t a great success, as I didn’t really like the place. I worked Bloomington and West Lafayette, where Diana came from. I visited her neighbourhood, and far from there being big houses, they were mostly small. It was also a mixed Black and White area. So either I had it wrong or I had been told some stories. I managed to write some orders and decided that it wasn’t for me. I had been corresponding with Diana, during my stay. I returned back down to Miami and ended up staying with John Carey again.

At one point, John moved to a smaller apartment so there was really no place for me to stay. So I ended up staying in the office on S. E. 3rd, where I slept in a training room. I was always there no matter how early New York would call. They must have really thought I was on the ball. One day though I had got drunk in a Cuban bar and had got back to my office rather late. I slept all the way through to Monday morning, although I thought it was Sunday. As I was answering a call in the reception the secretary came in and there I was sitting in my underwear. After this I was more careful and often slept at friend's places. I even slept in, John's Lincoln Continental car, and the joke going around was that I slept sometimes in my downtown apartment and sometimes in Lincoln Court. However it did save money, for I had no accommodation expenses. While I was living there, I did a few trips up the coast to Ft. Lauderdale, Lighthouse Point and places like that.

On one occasion we drove up to Lighthouse Point, and as it was Friday, I decided to have a few drinks. There were bars around in those days called, ‘Big Daddy’s Lounges’, and on Fridays, drinks were all 50 cents each. Well this was great and I had a few too many. Feeling hungry, I went to a hamburger place for a meal. I was sitting there, thinking of all the new American Expressions I had heard. One of them was, ‘Go shit in your hat’, which really caught my imagination. So I decided to use it in this restaurant. I was rude to the waitress, for quite some time, but she was so go controlled, that I couldn’t shake her. The customer was always right, and she was sticking to it. I demanded to speak to the manager, and still nothing happened. So I took the squeeze mustard container and went and wrote ‘Shit’, in giant letters on the plate glass window. I then went and sat down, and this time it elicited a response from the management. Over came the manager and started remonstrating over the mustard on the window. I replied to him, ‘Are you the manager?’, he said ,’Yes I am and I want you to leave.’ I responded, ‘Go shit in your hat.’ There, I had said it and what a fuss that was. I then took off up the street, to where I was to meet the others. I was waiting besides an electrical sub station, expecting a Chevrolet to turn up at any moment. My friends were in a Chevrolet and I had arranged to meet them by this sub station.

I spotted the car and waved it down, however much to my horror, as I walked up to the window, I realised it was the Police. They also were surprised at my surrender as they were looking for me, as the burger manager had called them. They took me back to the restaurant and asked him if I was the culprit. He answered in the positive but didn’t press charges. However I realised that my identification wasn’t going to be enough and that I would probably end up with Immigration. Luckily the sergeant knew John Careys’ father, who had been a Police Chief of some kinds in Philadelphia. He had also served with Australian, and British Forces during the war. I had Australian Identification and I talked with an accent. So I was very lucky, not to be arrested and detained. However I was put in a police car, and the driver being unaware of where I wanted to go, was putting me on the ‘Hobo Express’. This meant being shuttled by various Police Departments, northwards. I managed to convince him to drive to the southern boundary, where I hitchhiked back to Miami. On arrival at John’s place, he knew all about it, and said that my money was to be rationed on Friday nights, in the future!

On another occasion myself, and a friend, went up to Lauderdale for the spring break. We stayed at an apartment of some friends of mine, who had traveled with me to Mobile on a road trip. That evening we were pretty drunk along with all the students, and I was raising the drunk ones from the floor, by using pressure points behind their ears. How I knew about that, I don’t know, but it worked like a miracle. I of course got to a strange stage, where I was collecting all the bottles from the tables and taking them to the washrooms. Here I was throwing them at the wall, and as each smashed I shouted Fuuuuck!!!!!This was treated hilariously by the students, who thought it was a great show. I was of course thrown out, but I just went around and came in another door, for the place was packed. My friend had disappeared so I went down to the police station, and there he was, being taken in with a lot of drunk students. I asked the officer if I could see him, and he suggested that if I stayed around that I could join him. So I hitched it back down to Miami again.

The Cincinatti Workhouse.

On a trip, to Cincinatti, part of John's Region, I ended up with major trouble. I had been staying with John Carey, as a trainer, and I decided to go out on Friday night. He did warn me about getting drunk but I was off on my own trip. I had found a bar called "The Blue Angel Dance Club." which was a Black bar, but the drinks were cheap. I was the only White guy in there, but my accent was a source of interest. They knew that I wasn’t an American, otherwise I wouldn’t have been in there. If they treated me alright, I was O.K. with them, I wasn't prejudiced. Anyway I got plastered and headed to a downtown Cincinatti, hotel for more fun. I was a little drunk by this time, and heading for trouble.

I could have picked a better location, for fifty State Governors were holding a convention there. I started a conversation with some guys in the lobby, during which I said that all politicians are rubbish, or something stupid like that., It was the wrong thing to say to F.B.I, guys, which i definately did not for that's who they were! Well my feet didn't touch the ground, I was arrested and taken up to a room for interrogation. They really gave me a hard time and wanted to know where my gun was. They emptied my pockets and searched me, without any reading of rights-Mirandised, or anything like that. I was so tired of them asking about a gun that I made up a fantastic story about being a crocodile hunter in Australia and a mercenary in the Congo. I had just read a book about this and it all sounded like a good story. I said my gun was in Elizabethville, in the Congo. They were spellbound for ages as the story took on a life of it's own. Eventually one guy said, "You are full of shit." I said, "I wondered how long it would take you to work that out". "I tried to tell you that before, but you wouldn't listen. So you wanted a fantastic tale, so I made up a story to entertain you.” They were not entertained and were very disappointed that I was only a drunken story, teller and not an assassin. So off to the central police cells I went, to await trial, for drunk and disorderliness and overstaying my visa.( I was a Canadian Resident and did not need one, and I had showed the company letter and went through inspection at Montreal Airport...ALL LEGAL).

At the jail the policeman in charge was very friendly. It seems that he had spent time in Liverpool during the war, so we got on famously and he gave me some special sandwiches. We also discussed the Adelphi Hotel on Lime Street and the American Cocktail Bar there. He also told a girl reporter about me and her family came from Liverpool as well. So I told her the same fantastic story I told the F.B.I. and it lost nothing in the telling.

The next day I was the local news in "The Cincinatti Enquirer" A Australian/European/Canadian arrested, outside a downtown hotel, crocodile hunter, traveler "Missionary in the Congo. "Even my employer's name, The Merit Company was mentioned. They said missionary instead of mercenary, for they were afraid the Blacks would attack me in jail. They needn't have worried, I got along famously with them. I felt I was unfairly treated, for nobody gets approximately a week in jail, for drunkeness, especially on a first offence in the U.S.The judge asked my citizenship .

The Police Captain also shared my view, it was the first time he had seen a first offender treated so harshly. The judge asked my citizenship twice, unconstitutional, and then told me they don't want foreigners interfering and offering opinions, about their leaders. (My family was probably in the USA before his). The FBI must have said I was demonstrating or similar, but I was just drinking in a bar with FBI agents present. The fact that his leaders were running around, TELLING THE WORLD WHAT TO DO AND LETING MLK, JFK AND RFK BE ASSASSINATED...BY THEIR OWN POWER ELITD DID NOT COME INTO IT..

After the sentence I was handcuffed to a black guy and then to a rail, in a prison van, in fact most of the prisoners were blacks. After a short drive we arrived at "The Cincinatti Workhouse." It was a whitish building and looked like an old fashioned jail. We stripped and our possessions and clothes were taken into storage. We then were lined up naked and medically examined, in a very casual way. I was given some khaki prison wear and a number then paraded to my cell block. We were shown our cells and then locked on to the range.

The cell was amazing it consisted of a small stone room and a barred door. There was a bed, of sorts, that looked like the door, except, it was held up by two chains to the wall. On the bed was a black and white mattress and on the floor was a bucket half full of disinfectant, "the honey bucket." There was no wash basin, in the cell. The ablutions were a circular, common affair, in the ground floor toilets. I lay down and studied my new abode, there were marks and dates in the stone, going back over some years. Some were initials and names some were symbols of some sort. I later found out that Indians had died in there, during the Indian Wars, and that Confederate prisoners had been jailed there after the Civil War. I don’t know whether this was the infamous Workhouse for Women, at one time, either. This was a most amazing experience, I had been locked up before, but never in such an interesting if disgusting place. It didn't really bother me, being in jail, I just put it down to an interesting experience.

The papers were out, and the other prisoners soon realised that I was the European arrested at the Governor's Conference. This was a source of great amusement, and I was an instant hit, in the popularity stakes. I had come to see America and here I was in jail, and this was a huge joke.

At mealtime we were marshaled by whistles and marched down in line to the canteen. We stood by our seat and at a whistle we pulled it out and sat down with our food. At another whistle we started eating and at another we stopped. We then were marched back to our range and allowed to mix with other prisoners. Although in the evening we were locked in our cells, at about 8p.m., until about 7a.m. the next morning. Although, we could walk, along the range, between 5p.m. and 8,p.m.,

There was some chatting along the range, and I spent time trying to console a little black teenager, in the cell next to me. It seemed he had been charged, with breaking a window, in a bus, he said another boy did it. I wondered why he was in here with all these adults, some in there for longer sentences. He spent his nights crying for his mum, poor little guy. I did my best to help him through it, but I did think that U.S. justice; was Not! Some of the hard-core white guys seemed to take a pride, in which State jails they had been in, and shouted across the ranges to old friends and enemies.

At this time there were riots in U.S. cities and all in the jail were aware of them. Some of the prisoners used to taunt the guards about having their friends get them on the outside. Most of the prisoners were Black and I got on quite well with them. Also, some prisoners escaped, but were caught, for they all went straight home! My sentence passed pretty uneventfully except for my visits. Diana came to visit and seemed to think that I had done all this, to deliberately upset her, she was taking it all very personally. My friend John Carey was busy handing out cigars to the guards, with my compliments, hoping to make life easier for me. I still had some of my own in my possession.

One day I was taken down to a little room and the Immigration were there. They had been called in by the F.B,I. and had spoken to me at the courtroom. I was interviewed about my job, how and where I was paid, what I was paid and stuff, like that, even though I had been sent in to the USA and my visa stamp still had almost a year to go before expiration, and I was a Canadian resident and did not need the stamp anyway. The FBI searched my room and suitcase without benefit of a warrant also...As they wanted my passport...

When I started to talk about my Irish American Pioneer Ancestors, he was very interested. I told him about my great-grandfather Mike McNally and his brothers, breaking horses in a ranch in Montana Territory, in the nineteenth and early twentieth century, and working in the Anaconda Mine, which caused Michael's death at 47, They stayed there, for many years and becoming Americans, and supplied the U.S. Cavalry with horses. He asked me if I could get all the details and I told him that I could. I have the Ellis Island landing record on his last visit in 1899. On my father’s side, my great-grandfather, Joseph Kelley, spent many years in Chicago also. He was also Naturalized in 1896. ( Which mad both my grandmothers US Citizens). So it seems that in both sides of the family, I had a claim to, perhaps or residency due to association. Although I didn't know this at the time, and the immigration didn't tell me about it. They did however give me ten days to leave the country. They did not deport me, so I could re-enter, including the deal at the court-house. They took Mike and Felix McNally’s name down and I often wondered whether they had this on their files of me. As already mentioned I felt I was given a heavy sentence for drunkeness, so as the Immigration could hold me.

. The Immigration Officer at the jail was quite friendly, and said things like, "It's pretty bad when you can't go out for a drink on a Friday night isn't it?" Also make sure you’re divorced, before you marry again and advice, like that. MY VISA HAD ABOUT NINE MONTHS ON IT THOUGH He must have been thinking of Diana Blythe who had just recently arrived, to do some work, in the office. I had no intention of marrying again though, as I had been there and done that.Also as a Canadian Resident I did not need a Visa at all, and he referred to that....He also said that somebody doesn't like you Tony. FBI probably as they had egg on their face....

Any way the last honey bucket parade was performed before breakfast, and down I went, whistles blowing, to the canteen. My name was read out from a list of those to be released that day and I gave my name. I also gave my breakfast to, longer term prisoners, as is the custom, and I picked up my gear and was released. One of my workmates came to pick me up, outside the jail and drove downtown to a bar to meet John Carey. Well he had shown the newspaper clipping to all and sundry in the bars, so I was some kind of minor celebrity. The Ratskeller was one of the bars, that John and I had wined and dined in, before my unfortunate arrest. I was wined and dined again and taken over the river to Kentucky, for late night drinking. A stripper took a fancy to me, and seemed to know John. I got drunk and was sitting in a booth with this girl, but I was now falling all over the place, and John had gone home. I stayed too long, ending up being rolled, and waking up on a grassy bank, in a churchyard, on the Newport, Kentucky side of the river. I headed up to the apartment, to see what was happening with Diana. No doubt she would be still be pissed off, and we were no doubt busted up now, for sure. I had made the mistake of telling, the local manager that my estranged wife had forwarded a letter through the company. Telling me that she now had a house and everything was fine, and she was getting on with her life. This fink told Diana about it, for he wanted to get into her pants. She took it to mean that I was going to be returning to Australia. For how could I resist a house, and obvious money as well. That’s what she thought would influence me, which was far from the truth. And my wife had a new boyfriend, and was settled very well. He was an Italian guy named Ross, who owned a farm locally, in the Bonnyrigg area. So when I got up to the apartment, Diana didn’t answer and I didn’t want to wake up John, so I slept in the hallway. In the morning the door was open and the apartment was empty, except the fink had left his watch behind. So I promptly purloined it. I wore it to the office and he was too scared to ask me for it. For, that would have meant admitting he was in there with Diana. He was married so didn’t want a big fuss about everything. I gave it to him back anyway, for I knew Diana and I had come to a parting of the ways. She had sang the song ‘You keep me hanging on’, in the car, before my incident. So I knew that she had a different view of the relationship than I did. She, like most women wanted something more permanent. There was no way that I was going from a broken marriage to something similar. Even, if she kept telling me about her ‘Trust Account’, and how it would buy a house and this and that. I spent the next ten days, of my departure notice, with my friends and made a little money. If, I had been told of my true legal position, by the U.S, Immigration, I would have stayed in the States, and become properly documented.

I boarded a bus for Detroit, I was then went over to Canada, in a van and left at the border with the Canadians, who gave me a bus ticket to Toronto. Luckily I had a letter from Joe Pal, the President of the Company, transferring me, in training, to the States. So I went up to the Immigration office in Toronto and established that I was legal. In those days, if you were British or Irish, you could apply from within the country, for permanent status.I had done my medical and everything and the officer told me that I was legal..

I checked into a boarding house in Toronto, and decided to give my friend, John a call in Miami. I told him that I would try and make it back into the States. I would get the bus to Cincinatti, and hook up with someone, for a ride, down to Miami. I also went up to the Merit office to see Cliff DeLeon, and while I was there, I ran into Jeith Dosanjh. He was up for a visit, to keep his visa in order. We went down to Maloney’s for a drink, and I told him that I would probably head for Miami again. I took my leave of Jeith and made my way to my lodgings, off Yonge Street.

The next day I went up to see the Immigration, to get my passport stamped, but didn't need it. So in the meantime, I called John and he wired me some money, that was owed to me from my work.The same night, I ran into some people, in a bar, who were going to Cincinatti on business. I went back to their apartment with them, and they all looked like policemen to me. I stayed a while and then left and made my way Downtown. After spending the night in a bunk bed, with a young guy from Jamaica, in the lower one; I left.

I hitched a ride to Edmonton, with a guy delivering a car there, which was really lucky. I stayed in an hotel, that I couldn’t really afford. The guy who had given me the lift, had booked in there, so had I. I checked in at the local company office and arranged to go out and write some deals. Luckily the book programme was well received in Edmonton and I did quite well, making some money. Meanwhile, I was putting everything on my room, at the hotel. For now I had hundreds of dollars coming and I could afford the bill. One day, at lunch, one of the managers came over to me, and questioned me, about where I lived and things like that. It was a bit annoying and rude, I thought, especially in front of the other diners. However I would return the favour in kind, soon enough.

The next evening I was drinking on Jasper Avenue, where I met an Indian Girl from Wetaskiwin Reserve. She was a Cree and quite pretty. I had learned a little Cree from an old guy, in the pub. So I had tried it out with this particular girl. ‘Estam nitchi much’, or something like that, and it meant I would like to meet an Indian Girl, I think. Anyway it worked and I ended the evening, with this girl for company. The bars were closed but I could still get a drink at my hotel/motel. One of the biggest, on the outskirts, of Edmonton, ‘the Riviera’, I think it was called. We ordered room service, and had drinks as well. The only problem was the guy who had given me the ride, saw me come in with the girl. So he was asking for me to send her down to his room. I refused of course, for my attitude to Indians was not the local one. I can’t remember much about the whole situation after that, for, as usual I fell asleep. The next morning, I again ordered room service and the waiter burst out laughing when he saw the mess of black hair, in the bed. Anyway I escorted her out and down the street to the bus stop, and went on to the office. That evening I was being looked at again at the front desk, but nothing was said, and I spent the night in the bar, charging the drinks to my room. I had plenty of money coming from sales, for the week, about four times an average wage or more.

The next morning there was a knock on the door, and it was the manager demanding payment. I asked why, and he gave no reply, and obviously believed that I was a bum, trying to beat the hotel. I was quite annoyed, for I knew it was also due to the fact that I had brought a young native girl into his hotel. Anyway before he called the police, I was held down in the office, where I called the local manager, to come and vouch for me. He arrived and said, ‘ Yes Tony has a lot of money coming, hundreds of dollars, this bill will be nothing to him.’ They went on about how I had traveled the world and been everywhere, as if that was a crime. My manager fixed the bill and then they all apologised. However I thought they now needed to be taught a lesson in manners and not being prejudiced. So I ran up a nice new bill, and they were all beams and smiles about the money I was spending. A week later, I got my friend Jimmy to book in for the night. I put my bags with him and paid for his rent. He checked out, and I followed, with management, saying nice things to me. I thought, your lesson in tolerance and good manners is coming, and we left for Calgary. I think that I laughed all the way down, and mentally thanked John Carey, for telling me the story, of Henderson, ‘the hotel beater.’

Jimmy took me on a trip to see an old girlfriend of his in Saskatchewan, and we stopped at pub in Kindersley. We got drunk and pretended to be wanting to fight each other. This resulted,unexpectedly, in me being surrounded by about five people fighting them, and given a good beating. We were thrown out of the pub and the 'Mounties' took me to hospital to have my nose put back in place, some stitches over my eye, and then led to the edge of town..We were thrown out of another pub in another town due to my new appearance, so we went on to his ex girlfriend's place. After staying there a couple of days we started making our way to Calgary...

We arrived in Calgary, where we stayed for a week or two, before driving to Vancouver. I was selling all the way and Jimmy provided the car and accommodation contacts. I even got invited to a wedding and ended up taking the photographs, outside the church. Well the friend’s photos that is. We stayed at a friend’s apartment, for a week or so, and generally enjoyed Calgary. There were lots of bars, full of music and entertainment. However our goal was to go to Vancouver, so when the manager of the office returned, we took off for British Columbia. We slept in the car and enjoyed the scenery, as we traveled. The mountains, rivers and valleys were fantastic and Jimmy and I arrived in Vancouver, after this fantastic drive through the Rocky Mountains.

We stayed in a cheap hotel on Granville Street, and visited some kind of hippy cafe as well. I wrote some more orders and even did some work in the office. The manager Mr Moran was a nice guy and he eventually ended up the city manager of Scarborough, Ontario. Unfortunately the money for the orders wouldn’t be ready by the time we had to pay the hotel bill. Also Jimmy had no money of his own. So one evening it was decided to do the bunk, from the hotel. We waited until the middle of the night and climbed out on to a fire escape, with our bags. As we were climbing down to the bottom rung, which was some feet above the ground; A large garbage truck came around the corner and lit us up on the wall, plain as day. At this point we dropped to the ground and scampered across to Jimmy’s car in the car park, and away. We checked into a fashionable hotel in English Bay, for the rest of the week. Jimmy’s last cash was spent in the restaurant, on an expensive meal and drinks. My orders were still not through, so off we had to go again. This time I was sure we were sprung, so we were packing our stuff in brief cases, with a newspaper under our arms, as in going to work. We went to work several times, and the front desk clerk spotted that we had already left for work, a few times. So we were off again, but I would be happy when we both had some money. I gave up doing Henderson’s Hotel Beating tricks, for I didn’t feel good about it at all. It had served its purpose and in future, money or no, we would sleep in the car.

Jim and I took the ferry over to Vancouver Island, where his sister had a home near Comox. We had a nice time fishing for these little fishes that swarmed up on the beach. This provided fish on toast, for breakfast. His sister was a nice lady, that sat and talked to me, to help with my problem, I suppose. We only stayed until my cheque came through and then we headed for the ferry to the U.S.A. The US Immigration Inspector did look at me though, and I thought, for a moment we weren’t going to make it.I was a legal resident in Canada though and entitled to enter without a passport in those days,,,,I had checked in and had an interview in Toronto at the Immigration to check that before coming out West.....I also had a company letter saying I would be training in the USA from time to time...

We then drove down to Los Angeles, where Jim had a brother and we stayed a week with them, in Thousand Oaks. We spent most of our time drinking beer and swimming in the pool. Jimmy didn’t like my Irish records that much though. I called John in Miami, and asked him if there was a chance of a job again. He said yes, come on down, there may even be a manager’s job. Our money was now getting short so Jim exchanged a watch for a tank of gas. This took us to Blythe, California, on the edge of the Mohave Desert. I called Miami and the new Vice-President Nick Gouletas, sent us enough money, to drive to Miami. The Mohave was a beautiful drive and was very picturesque. We went past romantic places like, "Cochise's Hideout", and things like that. We slept in the car and went via San Antonio where we visited "The Alamo”, which is something I had wanted to do since I was a schoolboy, when I saw the movie of the same name. It was a very moving experience, seeing the names of the dead and where they all came from. They were from Britain, Europe, and many American States, of course.

We also stopped in New Orleans, checked out the ‘French Quarter’, and then moved on, through the Gulf Coast, to Florida. We eventually arrived in Miami, where I had a job again. In fact we both did, although Jim found the heat a little hard to take. I had no problem with hot weather, after years in Australia. We started out staying at John’s place, but I don’t think he liked Jim very much. So we moved to different addresses. John inherited Charlotte, as part of his region, so after a visit to Cleveland, we moved down to North Carolina. I came in as a trainer but ended up the District Manager.

Many people thought I was a Yankee, because of my accent. John and I were staying in a motel, near the downtown area. We were the executives and so we stayed together. John used to drink quite a lot and I would try and keep up with him. On one occasion we drank quite a lot and even more beer, in our room. Unfortunately I passed out and either spilt a can of beer or wet the bed. If this wasn’t bad enough, John had diarrhea, the 'whisky shits', and in his stupor, shit the bed. Well on waking in the morning, we were presented with the evidence of our executive behaviour. We showered, went downstairs and paid the bill, hoping to get away before the maids entered the room. We didn’t and we could hear the voices of the black maids, shouting out.’ There been some goddamn pigs living in here last night.’ We were laughing so hard, as we made out way out on to the main drag. We used to eat and drink at a bar and grill on the main street. I can’t remember the name, but Johnny Nash was on the jukebox singing, ‘I can see clearly now.’ I bought some clothes here at a black shop, and they were very reasonable. Only the plaid on my jacket wasn’t straight across the arms and chest. I didn’t notice this, until John’s wife, Patricia pointed it out. It seems I had bought them at the ‘Colored store’, where it was all put on the tick and cheap.

I was lucky for I could stay with my boss, Larry Gould and his family. They had rented a new house in a cul de sac, some miles down the highway from Charlotte. However the company unceremoniously dumped him, near Christmas time so I returned to Miami. I took the bus down to John and Patricia’s house again. Poor Patricia had to put up with John and myself. She was a nice lady that taught home economics at Miami Dade Junior College. She came from ‘Toadhop’ Tennessee and was very Southern. She was it seems independently wealthy, and why she put up with John’s drinking, chauvinism and megalomania, I will never know.

At one point, John moved to a smaller apartment so there was really no place for me to stay. So I ended up staying in the office on S. E. 3rd Ave, where I slept in a training room. I was always there no matter how early New York would call. They must have really thought I was on the ball. One day though I had got drunk in a Cuban bar and had got back to my office rather late. I slept all the way through to Monday morning, although I thought it was Sunday. As I was answering a call in the reception the secretary came in and there I was sitting in my underwear. After this I was more careful and often slept at friend's places. I even slept in, John's Lincoln Continental car, and the joke going around was that I slept sometimes in my downtown apartment and sometimes in Lincoln Court. However it did save money, for I had no accommodation expenses. While I was living there, I did a few trips up the coast to Ft. Lauderdale, Lighthouse Point and places like that.

Although, after Christmas, I again was transferred to Charlotte, due to a change in the management in Miami, and I ended up working there and throughout the South. I initially traveled to Durham, Salem, and Raleigh in North Carolina. I was a sort of traveling trainer, for the company now. In fact, I moved down to Atlanta, and really enjoyed that city. After a couple more trips around the country to such places as Jacksonville, Cleveland, Atlanta, Birmingham, where I ended up in jail for drunkeness, with my friend Peter Miller. I wasn’t really that drunk, only singing Irish songs, as myself, and friend made our way to our hotel room. In the cells, I was singing lots of Irish songs to the prisoners, and the guards. In fact the guards came down to the cell door to listen, and every time that I stopped singing, the prisoners asked for more.Atlanta was a nice place and I used to drink in the 'Red Dog Saloon' out in the suburbs.. The barmaid chatted me up and took me back to her place to meet some people. She told me to look under the car seat and there was a gun and ammunition..She said she always carried one for protection. I think she told her husband I was her boyfriend as he came up to me in the bar and was talking about their kids and all that...However when I got back to her place she had a boyfriend there and a grown up daughter she was trying to fix me up with...I decided it was all too dangerous a situation for me so I soon stopped going to the Red Dog Saloon.

Eventually I made my way back down to Miami again though. I always was drawn to Miami, and enjoyed the city immensely.

Atlantis discovered?

An unusual meeting took place whilst I was in Miami. I ran into a girl that I knew from her time at the Merit Book company. She was at a gas station with her friend Ray. I think her name was Phyllis and Ray's mother was an Albanian named Yolanta. I asked her how she had been doing and she said that she had just spent three months in India on an Ashram. She then proceeded to tell me about my future life, how many children I would have, and she seemed to think I would go to India. She actually thought my wife was dead, so Ray told her not to go any further. I did say that I would like to go to India, as my father had been in the Indian Army and I learned a lot about it from him. Then she asked me had I ever heard of Sai Baba, and she seemed to think that I would eventually. We discussed a Fakir, that my father had told me about, but I couldn't say that I had heard of this Baba.

One evening she turned up at John's place and invited me to go to Bimini with her. It seems that some underwater ruins had been discovered and she wanted me to go scuba diving with them. Phyllis obviously knew that in the future I would come to a different road, and she pursued the idea somewhat.

One Sunday, I was at the beach with Jeith and his girlfriend, Rochelle, when Ray and Phyllis turned up. They invited me to visit Yolanta and another lady. As it happened we were very near the apartment, in Miami beach, which of course was no coincidence. In fact you could walk off the beach to it. It seemed that these ladies knew about this mystery and, Yolanta wanted to meet me. I went up to the apartment and I met Yolanta and I believe Bettina Biggert, whose apartment I think it was. They talked for a while then something was going on, Yolanta asked should I stay but Bett didn't think so. So Jeith and I went back down to the beach.

My next stop was Pittsburg, and I ended up with an Irishman, named David Glavin. David was an expert drinker and we worked our way to Miami, via Washington, Savannah and St. Augustine. We met two Australian girls hitch-hiking on the way down and later went out with them to Ft. Lauderdale, and had dinner in the Cuban area of Miami. (I remember a Miss Gustafson, from Echuca.)

We nearly get killed in Liberty City.

Driving into Miami we took a wrong turn and ended up in a rough black neighbourhood. We stopped and asked for directions from a group of kids on a corner, who immediately started to push and rock our car. And all we had done was asked for directions, and got a lot of abuse about being white, even though we were not Americans. Although my Irish friend David Glavin had served in the US Marine Corp. We even told them that and that we had no beef with them. We were worried for our lives, for it looked very much like they were going to turn the car over and burn it with us inside. We accelerated slowly, so we could get a little momentum without killing anybody and then sped out of there. It seems a black kid had been shot by the police the day or so previously. I was just amazed that we escaped at all. For there were a lot of adults standing in the doorways waiting to join in. We worked in Miami for a while and then moved around to New Orleans, via Biloxi. (This was due to the fact that John, Jeith, and Carmine came to our apartment where we were staying with some students and got us thrown out of our lodgings. Carmine telling the manager we were not the tenants of the apartment. Apparently John thought I was encouraging the students not to go to work, which was totally untrue,they were fed up knocking on doors , I suppose).

We esconced ourselves in the French Quarter, and lived wherever we could find a bed. I took to using my first name 'Thomas', and so was now known as Tom McNally....One particular place was the Red Garter Saloon, where we slept upstairs. There was a bed hanging from chains, and in the evening we obtained free drinks for singing and dancing. We also did this at a big Irish bar called O'Brien's or something similar, after a jig or two our table was full of Hurricanes.

I also was selling books and David was doing some barking outside a strip club. I had the opportunity to see the bayou country with another salesman, who lived in the Quarter. I had a very strong feeling of dejavu, in New Orleans, especially around the old slave quarters. We ate rice and beans a couple of times around there and I had some strange "waking dreams". Whilst traveling, I always felt a presence looking after me also. I even felt that this presence was actually guiding me to the places I went to. I thought, perhaps it was a spirit of some kind. The old idea, of the Guardian Angel, or something like that.

One particular time I visited a house in the quarter, with lovely stairs, a fountain and beautiful furniture. I talked to somebody there, who seemed very friendly, but when I went back the next day, with David, it was mostly derelict and empty. I felt that I been through a psychic window of some kind, to a time when the house was new and I was connected in some way. I had the same feeling around the Cathedral and in some particular streets. I couldn't explain it as I wasn't into mysticism at the time. I lost my passport here one evening, it was stolen from the car. So I wondered where I could get it replaced, and that happened to be Houston. The night that the Catholic Church de sainted St Patrick was a bad night. Glavin took it very badly, although it didn’t bother me. We got pretty drunk that night and walked down to Jackson Park by the St Louis Cathedral. I say David talking to someone and the next minute, Glavin had chinned him and the man was down, with his girlfriend screaming. It seemed he had teased David about St. Patrick. So the next day we had to go to the Free County Hospital, to have his hand patched up. We were ready to move on anyway, so the next day we headed off to Houston, where I knew we could both get a job again.

We worked all around the State from Brownsville to Austin, from Laredo to Port Arthur. Were picked up by the police in Port Arthur for not having sales licences but the cop was Irish and let us go.

On one occasion in Jasper City, Texas, we were all arrested for working without permits and kept all night in jail. I can still remember the Sheriff and the Chief of Police picking me up. The Sheriff said "Are you one of these guys selling books"? "Do you have a permit"? Well you are in trouble get in". One of our six man crew was a Black girl and she argued like hell with the cops. We could hear her from our cells and she was giving as much as she got. We had to parade to the county jail for our meal, along with all the criminals. We wicked book salespeople were bailed out by a manager driving up from Houston.

In fact I was in the Texas back, country when the man first stood on the moon, July 1968, for we stopped the car and listened. My manager Larry Schweickart, a disc jockey, said it was a great step for all humanity, I wasn't so sure, but I did watch it on television that night in Brownsville. I did well in Texas, it suited me well, it was so similar to Australia in many ways.I even wrote 11 deals in one week with 3 triples......at $500 per deal in those days 1969.

Texas....Meet Pancho Villa's ( Grandson, Villa's son died in 1960,

I wondered whether or not he was the great grandson as he was a student) and worked with him....and Larry Schweickart who was a radio announcer as well...

I also visited "The Alamo," again, which is something I had wanted to do since my fleeting visit, previously. I also enjoyed being down on the river, where all the bars were. Kelly’s bar was a nice place, and I sang a few Irish songs for them, resulting in free drinks and the landlady wanting me to stay. I couldn’t though, for we had to all get back to the motel.

Anyway I soon had enough money to travel, and I had been offered, a job in Australia, by the President, of the company, Joe Pal. Larry Bird, the regional in Australia, telegramed me, with an offer also. I didn't know whether it was Melbourne or Sydney, Melbourne I think, but my kids were in Sydney. However before I could think about anything, something happened to change everything. I happened to be answering the phone in the office, when a call came in for Joe, who was visiting. It was my old drinking buddy Mike from Australia. It seems that he had been working in London and it had gone bad. He was deceived, by the same fellow that had been responsible for my demise, in Canada...,ie Harding Richards, His wife Janis wanted to return home to Texas and also remove Mike from his alcoholic friends. Who answers the phone but ‘yours truly’, an old drinking friend, and, what a situation was to arise from this. He actually told me that he was bringing her home to Texas, after some horrendous events and dangerous, emotional turmoil in London. It seemed she had slashed her wrists, in front of him, for some reason or other.

Well Mike and I teamed up and we rented a car. Mike was almost beyond writing orders so I had to take him with me. We ended up in the bar every night and I usually got drunk, which was not appreciated by his wife, who was a Mormon. Mike was in a mess psychologically and it was an unfortunate meeting for me. Every time I met Mike he was down and I seemed to be a helper but it always cost me, (Karmic debts?) Anyway we wrote a few orders and I was still on line to return to Australia.

Mike told me that Rhi and her Italian boyfriend,Ross, were seen at the night clubs, such as the "Whisky a Go Go ", by my friends who knew her well. I didn’t know how this would play out, with my children and I, but we would see. At least if I was in Melbourne I would be in the same country and could visit. Anyway it all fell apart for Jane got mad at Mike for drinking and being a failure. Mike said that she was calling the Sheriff on him, for some reason, and the Immigration on me, although I had a letter from the company president saying I would be training people in the US, which as a Canadian resident should have made me legal. Whether this was true or not; I knew we had to move so we decided to go to Canada, where my younger sister, had recently moved to. We left the car at the airport and told the manager where it was. We flew to Chicago where we slept the night at the airport, waiting for our Toronto connection. When we arrived at Pearson Airport we were in trouble, for we indicated that we would like to apply for work permits instead of tourist visas. The Immigration Law with regard to British/Irish Citizens had been changed whilst I was in Texas. So Mike was not allowed in the country, for we had stated we intended to work, and apply from within the country. If we had been anything but British we could have fared better as many people turn up at the Canadian Border and receive welfare payments, accommodations, and even loans to learn trades. I technically was still a Canadian Resident but Mike was not so I did not push for just myself...I entered again a few years later, and again, in 1975 with my family and eventually became a citizen...so I could have sat it out at the airport as my status was obviously legal and stamped. Mike's was not, so we decided to withdraw our application to enter Canada and fly to the UK, as Mike didn't want to go back to the USA at that time.

My sister, Marie-Therese, came out to see us for an hour or two and helped prevent Mike being deported by lending Mike some money for the airfare back to London. I think I had enough for myself, as I had the money I was saving to return to Australia, and he didn't have enough. I told my sister that the Merit Inc, company in Texas owed me commission and she could have that, a few hundred dollars, $300. However they gave my money to the district manager, Bobby Oliver, and she didn't get it; I was quite surprised that the management would allow that to happen, and it affected my attitude to the company. I later gave my sister a present, a set of West Bend Custom Waterless Cookware, not sold in stores, to take care of this. I didn't tell her that but it was in my mind to do something for her as she had done for me, and my friend. Each time I met Mike he was in a downturn so I had the job of including him in my deals. I liked him but came off second best in most of our deals as with others I dealt with. It seems I was too helpful sometimes and that was my nature apparently, not just with Mike but with many others also..

(I actually did run into Bobby again in Sydney Australia, when we were both at the Grolier Society, and he ended up being taken back to the USA by US Marshals for violating some parole or other, never mind stealing my sister's money).