Glenn T.
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I was too young to hear Smoky’s exciting exploits on the wireless and never was a proud “Deputy Sheriff”. I had to wait many years to listen to crackly recordings of those dramatic radio serials, Jindawarrabel and The Adventures of Smoky Dawson. However, I did grow up watching Smoky and Flash the Wonder Horse on the Super Flying Fun Show with Miss Marilyn and Marty Moreton on Channel Nine. And at the age of seven, in the early 1970s, I waited for hours, with my parents and sister, to catch a glimpse of the legend and his trusty palomino in the annual Waratah Festival Parade through the heart of Sydney.
With my twenty-six cartridge Kodak Instamatic camera at the ready, I saw the white Stetson waving high in the distance and could hardly stand still with the excitement. I held my breath as Flash pranced closer and the nation’s most famous and adored cowboy put his hat back on and reined him in, right there in front of me. Flash tucked a hoof under his belly and took a bow. “Click” went my camera. Then, with another wave of the hat and a huge cheer from the crowd, Smoky was off down Elizabeth Street, followed by the Sydney Water Board’s “Water Babies” float. That childhood encounter was over in a moment, but it left me with the photograph I treasure to this day.
It would be almost twenty more years, 1990, before I met my childhood hero in person when our mutual friend and colleague, Lance Smith, introduced me. I was the picture of calmness on the outside – but inside I was that expectant little boy with his camera again. Like everyone who met him, I was instantly taken by the thoroughly genuine nature of this unassuming, larger-than-life celebrity. Moreover, Smoky seemed sincerely pleased to meet me. As another country music legend, Mary Schneider, later recalled: ‘Smoky simply loved people and was always genuinely delighted to meet someone new.’
In the years that followed I got to know Smoky and Dot very well. We’d travel on coach trips, and I’d sit in their living room sipping tea from a duck-egg blue Johnson Bros teacup and saucer, listening as Smoky regaled me with his amazing tales while Dot passed around the Scotch Finger biscuits on a matching plate. One afternoon he pulled a copy of his autobiography from a shelf in his study, wrote this inscription in it, and handed me the book. It read:
To my old Pal Glenn
From Smoky
With warmest wishes for a happy,
Healthy and Prosperous life on the Road & Tomorrow
1913-2001
I often said to him, ‘Why don’t you republish your book, write another chapter, release an updated version? I’ll help you.’ After all, SMOKY DAWSON – A LIFE came out in 1985. ‘Yes, I should,’ he’d respond, as regularly as I’d make the suggestion. ‘I was seventy-two when I wrote that. I didn’t think for a minute that I’d have another twenty years to go, or I might have waited a bit longer!’
As it happened, Smoky had another twenty-two years left in him and we never did sit down together and pen that final chapter. So it is with enormous pride and humility that I now have this opportunity to complete the job in his name.
With my twenty-six cartridge Kodak Instamatic camera at the ready, I saw the white Stetson waving high in the distance and could hardly stand still with the excitement. I held my breath as Flash pranced closer and the nation’s most famous and adored cowboy put his hat back on and reined him in, right there in front of me. Flash tucked a hoof under his belly and took a bow. “Click” went my camera. Then, with another wave of the hat and a huge cheer from the crowd, Smoky was off down Elizabeth Street, followed by the Sydney Water Board’s “Water Babies” float. That childhood encounter was over in a moment, but it left me with the photograph I treasure to this day.
It would be almost twenty more years, 1990, before I met my childhood hero in person when our mutual friend and colleague, Lance Smith, introduced me. I was the picture of calmness on the outside – but inside I was that expectant little boy with his camera again. Like everyone who met him, I was instantly taken by the thoroughly genuine nature of this unassuming, larger-than-life celebrity. Moreover, Smoky seemed sincerely pleased to meet me. As another country music legend, Mary Schneider, later recalled: ‘Smoky simply loved people and was always genuinely delighted to meet someone new.’
In the years that followed I got to know Smoky and Dot very well. We’d travel on coach trips, and I’d sit in their living room sipping tea from a duck-egg blue Johnson Bros teacup and saucer, listening as Smoky regaled me with his amazing tales while Dot passed around the Scotch Finger biscuits on a matching plate. One afternoon he pulled a copy of his autobiography from a shelf in his study, wrote this inscription in it, and handed me the book. It read:
To my old Pal Glenn
From Smoky
With warmest wishes for a happy,
Healthy and Prosperous life on the Road & Tomorrow
1913-2001
I often said to him, ‘Why don’t you republish your book, write another chapter, release an updated version? I’ll help you.’ After all, SMOKY DAWSON – A LIFE came out in 1985. ‘Yes, I should,’ he’d respond, as regularly as I’d make the suggestion. ‘I was seventy-two when I wrote that. I didn’t think for a minute that I’d have another twenty years to go, or I might have waited a bit longer!’
As it happened, Smoky had another twenty-two years left in him and we never did sit down together and pen that final chapter. So it is with enormous pride and humility that I now have this opportunity to complete the job in his name.
