IT’S A LONG WAY TO THE TOP by AC/DC. Story by Paul Dufficy.

Harold Street, Newtown, New South Wales, 1974

When Steve and I got back from Indonesia in early 1974 we found a house for rent in Harold Street Newtown and we moved into the neighbourhood. Newtown was a rough and ready kind of suburb and was a mix of working class families, immigrants, students, petty crims and as we discovered a thriving sharpie scene.

We first met Baldy Bob playing pinball at the nearby corner-shop run by a newly arrived family from Ankara. Baldy was around 18, maybe older, wore Levis, chunky black boots, a short-sleeved T-shirt all, set off with a pair of braces. On his left bicep was a tattoo of the Roadrunner which had clearly been drawn by someone who couldn’t.

With arms at a stretch aside the machine, legs spread and back arched, Baldy was working the machine like a true exponent of the silver ball. He also had very few filters and within a couple of minutes had pulled a bag of dried greenery out of his pocket and told us how hopeless the shit really was. I opened the plastic sandwich bag and took in the aroma. Choosing my words carefully I told him it was oregano. Why anyone would try this on someone who normally travelled in a pack was beyond me. Or even mention oregano for that matter.

In what turned out to be a timely coincidence I had recently decided that I could make some money as a small-time marijuana supplier since the multiple kebayas I had brought home from Bali to off-load for a handsome profit were not exactly flying out the door. From memory a member of Ted Mulry’s band had bought one. Anyway, with this new business venture I would buy a pound from an old school acquaintance who had contacts up the chain in the Hunter Valley and using similar plastic sandwich bags to Baldy’s, Steve and I would then proceed to get quite stoned as we made up one ounce lots. Once again the selling side of my business model was the weak link.

As Baldy was racking up the free games I walked the 50 metres back to our place, rolled a joint and took it back to the pinball wizard suggesting he try this herb instead. As we found out later, Baldy’s normal go-to means of getting high was to spray kitchen aerosol into a bag and inhale deeply.

Apart from a couple of medical students I knew, Baldy became one of my few clients. He was not around all that often however and I think he was in and out of trouble a fair bit. Still, he was back in the neighbourhood for a birthday party we had for Steve. People were having a good time, the floorboards were moving, music was loud, and our neighbours easy going. After a bit Baldy decided Steve needed a present and took off. Half an hour later he came back and dragged the birthday boy out onto Harold Street. He wished Steve a happy birthday and opened the door of the Chrysler Valiant he had just stolen.

*

About a month before we were to renew our lease to take us into the next year I woke up at 9am to find three men in suits, in my bedroom, and in deep real estate conversation. The lease was not renewed so we left Harold Street in December 1974. After a short time at home I moved into a house on Ivy Street Chippendale with my girlfriend Carmel.

During semester we both worked for the University Union in a range of jobs. Most afternoons while I did the bar Carmel did one of the hot food counters and at weekend functions we were both waiters. I also had a day shift as a cleaner in the Wentworth Building with overall responsibility for the toilets. On the occasional Saturday night I was the doorman at student functions which usually meant being given free joints and assisting very drunk people to leave the building safely.

In September that year there was a free Sunday concert put on by radio station 2SM in the nearby Victoria Park. The headliners were AC/DC with their new singer Bon Scott and Angus Young just a year into his schoolboy outfit. They were outrageously good and when they launched into It’s A Long Way To The Top (If You Wanna Rock ‘n’ Roll) the crowd went nuts. But at the same time there was a commotion brewing up the Newtown end of the park. The Sharpies had arrived (a little late it has to be said) to take their rightful place at the front of the pavilion. They cut a swathe through the crowd as they headed down the slope. At the pointy end of the wedge was Baldy Bob. And what a musical era Baldy and the Sharpies had found themselves in: Rose Tattoo, Lobby Lloyd and The Coloured Balls and, of course, Billy Thorpe and the Aztecs. And with the punk explosion just around the corner.

That was the last time I saw Baldy.

Stereo Story #829