Home and Away actor Ray Meagher, better known as Alf Stewart, reflects on his younger years in Dirranbandi, south-west Queensland.
THE VETERAN STAR OF STAGE AND SCREEN OPENS UP TO CLAIRE MACTAGGART ABOUT HIS FONDEST MEMORIES OF RURAL LIFE.
FOR THE PAST 30 YEARS, Ray Meagher has been a mainstay on our nation’s screens as the stalwart Alf Stewart in Home and Away — the longest continuous television role in Australia. The sandy shores of Summer Bay may be a world away from Dirranbandi and the banks of the Culgoa River in south-west Queensland where Ray grew up, but many of his character’s renowned ‘Alfisms’, such as “Stone the flamin’ crows!”, are drawn from real-life characters of his childhood. Born in Roma in 1944, Ray is the youngest child of Bill and Patricia Meagher with older siblings Colin, Pat and Kevin. Sadly, their mother Patricia died when Ray was eight and he went to board at Marist College in Brisbane soon after. His father Bill passed away seven years later. “Col [12 years older than Ray] became a father figure to me and I’d go to his property, Mugrugulla, on the Culgoa River in the school holidays,” Ray says. “Those are the strongest childhood memories that I have. He married a wonderful women called Pat Deshon who was also from the district. Poor Pat didn’t realise she was getting a young kid!” Ray excelled at sport during his time spent at boarding school and it was there that he also developed an interest in performing. Afterwards, he returned to Mugrugulla for a while before going to Brisbane to pursue a rugby union career that included representing Queensland. “Col always encouraged me to do what I really wanted to do, so I went down to Brisbane, got all sorts of jobs and played rugby all through that period,” he recalls. “Then I started doing a little bit of amateur acting and combined the two for a while. There was an opportunity to do a show called Dimboola. They were paying people to have fun on stage!” Ray moved to Sydney to continue with the show, giving himself a year to see if it would work out. That was 1973 and acting, it seemed, was a perfect fit. “I knew I enjoyed it and it’s been very, very kind to me,” says Ray. He reflects on a career that has included roles in more than 30 films, theatre productions and television series, including Prisoner, Breaker Morant, The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith and the West End production of Priscilla Queen of the Desert. In 2010, his portrayal of Alf Stewart earned the actor a Gold Logie Award for most popular personality on television. Today, Ray lives in Sydney with his wife, Gilly, and is the official ambassador of Dancing with the Black Dog, a charity dedicated to eradicating the stigma of anxiety and depression. “It’s OK to say if you don’t feel OK,” he says. “Mental illness doesn’t get the focus it deserves and it’s a real issue. The more awareness, the more people will talk about their problems.” Despite a busy career and work commitments, Ray is still a country boy at heart, and feels strongly about regional communities receiving more support. Last year, returning to Dirranbandi to open the local show, the actor voiced his concerns to the audience. “The one thing I said is that I think politicians, over a long period from both sides of the spectrum, should hang their collective heads in shame that they haven’t watered Australia, and they can start by watering this area and the areas west of the Great Divide. We could be the food bowl of the world.” > For more information, visit dancingwiththeblackdog.com
MY PARENTS LIVED in Isisford for some time and Mum’s parents, the Bignells, had pubs there, although I don’t remember any of that. Dad and his brother Johnny started a tank sinking business with big teams of draft horses and drays. At one stage, they had 300 draft horses in feed. Col’s property, Mugrugulla, was mainly sheep with a few cattle. He started from scratch; he worked for Dalgety and AML&F and had a posting at Dirranbandi, then Goondiwindi, then came back to Dirranbandi. He made incredibly strong connections and friends in the district and saved up a few bob, then started dealing in sheep and bought Mugrugulla — he was there when Mum died. I was off to boarding school soon after and spent my school holidays there. When you’re in that situation, that’s what you do; you don’t know any different. Occasionally at boarding school, on Sundays, people would have visitors; my visits weren’t all that regular because of the tyranny of distance. But I never dwelled on any of that — those were the cards I was dealt and you just get on with it. I did go to school very briefly at a convent in Wondai and boarded at Marist Brothers’ College in Eagle Heights, Mount Tamborine. I enjoyed what happened at school outside of the classroom — I just loved sport and the whole ‘we’re all in this together’ camaraderie. I quite enjoyed English, logic and maths but I wasn’t a scholar. Having said that, the education I got was absolutely sensational, even though I’m not their greatest academic export. The vocational guidance bloke at school said I should either be a lawyer or an auctioneer… I’m not really sure how those two commute! I absolutely loved going to Col’s property. He was one of the finest horsemen Australia has ever produced. He rode in bullock rides and did buck-jumping. Then, because of the amount of shake-up to the body, he thought show jumping looked alright and that there might be a bit more longevity there! He was taken all round Queensland to all the major shows and competed and did incredibly well, becoming involved in three-day eventing and winning competitions. He was even chosen for the preselection team that won a gold medal at the Rome 1960 Olympic Games. The reason he didn’t go was the distance from Dirranbandi to Bowral, the headquarters of the Equestrian Federation of Australia, was such a long way. Later on, he managed the Australian Olympic equestrian team at the Los Angeles Games in 1984 and was the president of the Brisbane Ekka. Col taught me to ride. I attended the Dirranbandi Pony Club and I used to go round the shows with him in the school holidays. There was one circuit — Kingaroy, St George and Roma — and I’d get on one of his horses from down the back of the float (not one of his good horses!) and have a go in the kids’ events. He had jumps built all around the place at Corowa, his next property, and I had these drums with a rail on, putting the pony over something that it probably wasn’t up to going over. Col used to say to me, ‘You know, horses are a bit like people… they can’t all jump!’ I enjoyed the bush and mustering and lamb marking — I was probably cheap labour, although I don’t know how effective or efficient I was! Once, we were out mustering and I was riding down the Culgoa River with Col and he had an old dog called Rusty who was part kelpie and part God knows what. The river was flooding and had quite a good stream, and this bunch of roos came straight towards us. Rusty went berserk and Col was screaming at him to ‘come behind’, but Rusty had his own mission and drafted out one of these roos and got him into the water. The roo pushed Rusty under and then Rusty would bob up behind him, and we thought, ‘This is the end of Rusty.’ Down the river and out of sight they went and eventually here’s this wringing wet, old dog on the side of the river. Turns out Rusty was smart enough to get the roo into the middle of the river. Things like that, that would have been 60 years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday. As a child, I was interested in other people. I tried to put on a brave show regardless of the situation and also because whatever was dealt to you, you try and make the best of it and keep moving forward. The real constants in my life were Pat and Col. He was a father figure and Pat was like a mother; she was absolutely fantastic. I remember Col saying to me one day, ‘Just never, ever, ever think you’re better than anybody else.’ Then there was this deliberate pause. ‘But by the same token, don’t think anybody else is any better than you, either.’