Townsville Bulletin - Townsville Weekend
A BAR ABOVE THE REST
Question: What do you do if you’ve worked in a very people-oriented job that you really loved, then later ended up in a role that was all about reports, meetings, budgets, policies and deadlines?
Answer: If you’re Richard Norris – and despite your friends thinking perhaps you’ve gone a little crazy – you buy a cocktail bar.
That, in a nutshell, is how Richard Norris came to be the owner of the Osk Bar, a popular cocktail bar in North Ward.
A North Queensland boy, he grew up in the Atherton Tablelands and spent most of his 20s in the North, including Mt Isa and Cloncurry, gaining a journalism degree along the way.
Then in his late 20s he travelled overseas, working for a number of years as a tour guide in Europe and in South East Asia, a life he loved.
Returning to Australia, he did more study, then got into corporate public relations and economic development, but he again got itchy feet in 2019 and went overseas tour-guiding… until Covid came along.
So it was back to the corporate world, for a while anyway.
“What I really missed from tour-guiding was the genuine, authentic interactions with people, and making sure they were having a good time,”
Richard told NQ Weekend.
“It’s a great job, you’re dealing with all kinds of people in all kinds of situations and it takes a lot of different skills.”
So when he learned 18 months ago that the Osk Bar was on the market because its owners were moving down south, he took the plunge.
“Some people thought I’d gone crazy – not people close to me, though.
“My wife was not a bit surprised – she just said, if you’re going to do it, do it properly.
“So now I have a house, a bar and a baby.” Becoming a dad a few months ago has not dampened his enthusiasm for his chosen career path, and he is continuing to work on improving the business.
Since he took over there have been some minor alterations to the décor, which is exactly what you’d want in a cocktail bar – cool and dark, with comfortable seating and a laid back vibe. The venue seats only about 30, so it’s pleasantly intimate and, with a tap, order and pay at your table option, you don’t even have to go to the bar if you don’t feel like it.
Richard said he and his team like creating new cocktails to add to the menu, a job he said required a lot of trial and error.
“But it’s not unpleasant work,” he laughed.
Among the creations that have proved popular are Roll In The Clover, which features Davidson Plum gin from the Tablelands, and Toasted Toblerone, topped with toasted marshmallows – certainly not your average tipples.
“We try to support local producers and source local products, and since I took over I’ve tried to up the number of events, to make good use of the space and promote local businesses,” said Richard.
Thus there are comedy nights on the first Tuesday of each month when local and touring comics join MC Indi C for 90 minutes of laughs, and a monthly Cocktail Masterclass – the next of which will be on April 18 – when customers can learn the basics of cocktail bartending and recipes, and make three cocktails to test their new skills.
The bar does not serve meals, but does offer delicious cheese boards to share – the perfect nibble to have with a gorgeous cocktail or two. Cheers to that!
Osk Bar is at 1/46 Gregory Street, North Ward. Open Weds-Thur 4.30-10.30pm, Friday 4.30pm-12am, Saturday 3pm-12am, Sunday 49pm, Closed Mon-Tues. For more details visit the Facebook page or visit www.osk.bar
Since I took over I’ve tried to up the number of events, to make good use of the space and promote local businesses
Even heroes must have heroes. When rugby league icon Wally Lewis was a boy growing up in Brisbane’s Cannon Hill he had one idol who stood above all others – crash-tackling Manly-Warringah backrower Terry Randall. With enough defensive crunch to uproot an oak tree, “Igor’’ Randall was the sort of player young boys craved to be. Fearless, fearsome and mildly frightening if headed in your direction.
But time moves on and the reverence Lewis once reserved for Randall has shifted beyond rugby league and even sport itself.
While a part of him still cherishes the memory of the man who made the big hits, Lewis now has the deepest admiration for those who try and clean up the damage from the occasional ones that go wrong – not simply for the player on the receiving end but to the ones performing the tackles.
As Lewis and partner Lynda Adams join me in the FOGS’ (Former Origin Greats) boardroom in Castlemaine St, Milton, famous rugby league photos look down on us from all directions as we sit just a punt kick away from the ground (Suncorp Stadium) which was Wally’s private kingdom.
Sitting proudly and prominently on the wall is arguably the greatest treasure of all … the Queensland State of Origin jersey Lewis wore in his legendary farewell match in 1991.
Talk about theatre. The ground announcer informed the crowd of 33,226 10 minutes before the end of the game Lewis’ Origin career was about to end and Queensland, to the delight of the raving masses, squeaked home 14-12.
Lewis gifted the jersey to long-time team manager Dick “Tosser’’ Turner. When Turner died in 2008 Lewis told his widow Jan that if she wanted to put it on his coffin he had no problems with that even though it was one of the most significant pieces of memorabilia in Queensland rugby league history.
But she wanted it to live on so here it hangs as a silent salute to the player who, after several soul-destroying decades when Queensland sporting teams often couldn’t win so much as a chook raffle, lifted the entire self-esteem of the state through Queensland’s early State of Origin dominance against NSW, with Lewis involved from its inception in 1980.
The scent of rugby league is so rich in this room you can almost smell the liniment and it seems slightly inappropriate to ask Lewis if anyone not photographed on the wall could be one of his true heroes.
But the life he led way back when is not the one he leads now.
When I asked Lewis whether medical experts who have saved and realigned his postfootball life are his new heroes he initially offers no words. He simply holds out his arms in front of me.
THE BIG THING FOR ME IS TRYING NOT TO BE FURIOUS AT MYSELF OR MY INABILITY
operation that required the removal of a chunk of his brain. “He (Fabinyi) is the guy that allowed me to enjoy life again,” Lewis says.
“I had issues for decades. I hid it. I kept it quiet. There were times when (fellow league great) Gene Miles would say that someone said to him that I had the personality of a dead fish.’’
Little did they know Lewis, famous for his lack of fear on the football field, was living with the crippling fear of having a seizure any time, anywhere, in front of people he barely knew.
Before his condition became public after an on-air seizure while reading the news on Channel Nine in 2006, Lewis’ coping mechanism was to try and minimise the fallout of any unexpected meltdown by deliberately keeping his distance from people.
It was a different sort of anonymity than what he craved at the height of his playing days when he was so in demand he changed his phone number in the Brisbane White Pages to W (Wally) Gator.
“I think once you make the decision to see people, you want to see the best, and I was extremely happy with Rowena Mobbs.
“She shed a tear in front of me. I can’t remember what I said but I was basically just telling her of my discomfort and embarrassment, then, at the end of the sentence, she said, ‘Look, I am having a bit of trouble with it’ and she wiped her eye.
“She would hear a dozen declarations like that a day. But she told me people think that the more people you hear the easier it is to process but it doesn’t work that way.’’
Chastening though it was, the diagnosis he revealed last year at least allowed Lewis and Adams to know what they are fighting and, as well as plotting their own life forward, are now crusading for the cause.
The 64 year old, who played more than 400 games of senior football including 31 State of Origin games for Queensland, recently led a delegation of about 20 people to Canberra crusading for more funding for CTE awareness, support and education in May’s federal budget. He is also involved in fundraising for the University of Queensland Brain Institute.
Lewis’s openness about his plight is in contrast to many fellow footballers who suffer in silence.
“It’s not funny but some of the guys who have it come up and start doing this,” he says before looking sneakily over his right then left shoulder as if he is guarding the world’s biggest secret.
Adams adds: “It is preventable but there is no cure. There are certainly things that can be done to assist them with their symptoms … depression, anxiety or sleep disorders.”
LIVING WITH WALLY
Lewis does not trust his own powers of recall but he does trust his “new best friend’’ – his diary.
“I don’t go anywhere without it,” he says. Each day is colour coded with the events that are “absolutely essential’’ highlighted in bright red. His phone constantly beeps with reminders which are a welcome safety net. Lewis’s reminder system is synchronised with Adams’s phone as yet another back-up.
“The big thing for me is trying not to be furious at myself or my inability when my recollective skills are tested every day,” he says.
“I will say something to Lynda. Then I will say, ‘Have I told you that before?’ She is very good and will say, ‘You have told me a couple of times already’ and I will think arrrgggh.”
Adams accepts one of the essential requirements of supporting Lewis is staying calm and tolerant and advice from an unusual source gave her a key line to cling to.
“I remember listening to this great podcast where this woman said when you are faced with adversity in life, be the air hostess,” she says. “The way she explained it was that if you are flying and you hit turbulence and the air hostess is running around crazily, it is time to panic. But if the air hostess just keeps handing out the peanuts then everyone stays calm.
“It is the short-term memory and the repetitive stuff. Wal might tell me a story and 10 minutes later he will tell me that story again. I just get on with it. There is no point in me highlighting that to him or getting frustrated. My role is to support him as best I can.
“There is nothing I won’t do to support him. “There are times when I say, ‘Say g’day to the guys at Channel Nine’ and he will say, ‘Am I going there?’
“I did have one lady talk to me about it and she said her husband had been diagnosed with the early onset of it and she was so angry and frustrated at him because he forgets everything she tells him. I said to her I can understand it but it doesn’t help you or him.
“People can’t help their illness.”
HUMOUR
Beneath the draining seriousness of his plight there are also the splashes of humour every grim situation needs.
Adams jokes Lewis can remember intimate details of a match in 1982 yet if she asks him to remember where the ironing board is he can have a sudden brain fade.
“It’s the same with how to use the dishwasher and the washing machine … it’s quite calculated. You have to have a laugh. We say you cannot get too serious about it.
“Sometimes we will talk about something and he will say, ‘Have we just spoken about that?’ and when I say yes, he will say, ‘OK, I am off to work … bye Stephanie.’”
WATCH YOUR HEAD
Lewis looks back not in anger but with sober reflection on the toll rugby league took on his life in an era when playing on after a headknock was seen as a measure of a man’s true fibre.
“It (a head knock) was regarded as the price you pay for footy. I remember I used to get concussed and walk off and my father (Jim) would come up and say, ‘You put your head in the wrong f--king place.’
“He’d say, ‘You put your head behind his legs, not in front.’ We used to do these drills in the back yard.”
Jim Lewis taught his son to tackle at age three, claiming, “If you can’t tackle, you can’t play the game because that is what it is about.”
Wally’s first tackling target was his father’s legs. Then Jim sent his son to judo sessions at age 10 because he wanted to teach Wally that, despite his slim physique, he could find a way to throw bigger men to the ground.
Wally knew from his time as a school liaison officer for Queensland Rugby League there was a fundamental fault with rugby league tackling styles.
He noted 90 per cent of players were righthanded so, when tackling, would lead with their right shoulder. When their opponent was heading to the defender’s left that often meant the tackler’s head would be in front of their opponent’s body.
“And that often meant a knee in the head or the player with the ball would land on the tackler’s head.”
So Wally recited his dad’s creed over and over to willing school children … “You simply must put your head behind the attacker’s body.”
Jim’s standards for Wally’s tackling were stratospherically high.