by Alleyne Hall

In memoriam Les Hall, my father, senior constable

On stage, aged eleven, before two world wars, then
a senior country policeman – where did the years go?
How did I get to this place of silence?
At the age of nine, there I’d been, chasing kangaroos
on my Dad’s property up at Tallarook.
He was shooting them (no problem, that, back then),
When a joey jumped out of a dead mother’s pouch.
And this was the start of my first career…
My father’s name was Clarence, a Scottish American:
Clarrie got his brilliant idea – a flash of genius, he said.
Take the boy out of school. Use him. Match him up
with that joey. Train them to box, but be inseparable…
For six years, Joey and I travelled all over the country.
We starred at Melbourne Waxworks, the Eastern Market,
the Palace of Wonders and the Al Fresco Amphitheatre
(opposite Stubbs’ Ladies’ Baths) – our dodger promised
the most enjoyable Sea Beach Show ever organised
at South Melbourne; with tickets priced at threepence
or sixpence; while reserve seats cost one shilling.
Then I suffered the heartbreak of Joey’s death –
forever more I took on the name of Kanga…
My next job as a soldier saw me serve in two world wars;
during the first one, gassed at St Martin’s Wood…
My last was as a policeman, returning to the force in between:
in charge back at Tallarook for eleven years; at Nagambie
for a further two – at Wodonga, my own best idea, starting
the first Police Boys’ Club, bringing gangs to lawful ways.
Rated as TPI in the end, I was called Kanga all through.
On stage, across Victoria, aged eleven, boxing with Joey…
How did I get to this place of silence?