Years ago when I was about 21 or 2, I was a trainee manager at Young and Jackson’s Hotel in Melbourne. It is a downtown hotel opposite the main railway station and a city icon. It was so famous that every politician, boxer, racing identity, country folk, movie star, gangster, street punk, and derelict would stop by there for a drink at some stage. And it was because of this reason that the Victorian premier of the time John Cain had decided to launch his reelection campaign there. He, however, was a well known tea totaler and had organized his photo shoot for 8 am before the doors opened at 10.
Everything had apparently been organized on very short notice as I had no idea what was about to go down and I was at the pub cleaning the lines and putting on the barrels. At about 7am I received a call from the owner, Marcel Gilbert, the largest independent hotel owner in Australia, and a guy with a remarkable memory for names. I picked up the phone and he said to me in his cultured Jewish accent, “Daniel, is there any one else there? Is Michael there yet?”
“No, sorry Mr. Gilbert. It’s just me. I’m cleaning the lines,” hoping to give a good account of myself.
"Only you Dan." I could hear the audible disappointment in his voice. "Well, Daniel you're in the lion's den today my boy. The Premier is coming this morning. They are going to take some photos. He'll be there at 8 o'clock. I want you to be ready to meet him. But don't say anything, you know what I mean? Don't say anything."
“Yes, Mr. Gilbert. I understand.”
“Good. Now, do you have anything to wear?”
“Not really. I’m only dressed in shorts and a T-shirt.”
“Well you go next door to Smith’s, I’ll ring Ray and have him waiting there for you.”
There were very few people in Melbourne who had the capacity to snub the Premier and send their lowliest employee to greet him and at the same time call the tailor next door and tell him to get down to his shop at 7 am to dress some greenhorn. But Marcel was just one of those guys, all charm and balls.
So with in half an hour I was standing out the front of Y&J’s waiting for the Premier to come by and as the designated representative of the hotel I was the focus of the press and the premier’s forward party. The premier’s PR guy gave me a quick rundown on what they wanted, perhaps a nice somewhat ironic picture of the premier raising a glass to Melbourne and the people of Victoria through a second story window.
That much I could handle. Then we settled down to wait for the premier
