what are we doing with our lives?
BROWN STREET, PADDINGTON, 1981
ONE DAY OUT OF the blue, when Jane and I were lying in bed, she said to me, ‘So what are we doing?’
I wasn’t doing anything. I was just lying there. I didn’t understand what she meant. ‘What do you want to do? I’ll do whatever you want,’ I said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
‘No, I mean what are we doing with our lives? Are we just going to live like this and get stoned all day and night or are we going to get serious about things?’
Jane had obviously been thinking a lot more about our future than I had. I was happy to spend at least the near future, if not longer, just getting stoned, but now that she mentioned it, what were we doing?
‘What do you mean, baby? What do you want to do?’ I was too stoned to respond any better, but I was straightening up rapidly. I sat up and looked at her.
‘Well, if we are not going to get married I might move on and do something with my life,’ she said.
I was wide awake and completely straight now. ‘What do you mean? Why would you go anywhere?’ I was worried.
‘If we’re not getting married I am going to go to America and continue studying.’
I sat thinking for a second. I knew that I couldn’t think about this too long or I would lose Jane. ‘Yeah. I think we should get married too. Let’s do it.’ It wasn’t very romantic of me but I loved Jane. I just hadn’t thought about marriage until that moment.
I WAS WORRIED. NOT about marrying Jane but the idea of the wedding. Surely that meant that my family and Jane’s family would all have to be there? I didn’t want them to be in the same room. My mum was not from the same world as Jane’s mum.
Luckily Jane wanted to get married straightaway. She didn’t want a big wedding. I think she didn’t want our parents getting together either. We looked into a civil ceremony. We would have to apply and wait four weeks. But we didn’t have that long. Cold Chisel was starting a big tour in three and a half weeks and the only way we could speed up the proceedings was to ask permission and show the details of the tour, airline tickets etc. We set a date, 22 May 1981. All we had to do was take in the proof. But we never got around to it. They married us anyway, in the Registry Office that afternoon, and I did a show at the Comb and Cutter Hotel in Blacktown that evening. How romantic of me.
I look back on a lot of these times and wonder how I ended up with such a great girl. Besides feeling unworthy, I was a complete idiot. If I could do it all again I would, but with more style. The style that my Jane always deserved.
ONE THING THAT HAPPENED when I was young that changed my life for the better was the birth of my son David Campbell. David was conceived and born before I joined Cold Chisel. I was very young, as was David’s mum, Kim. We found each other one night while leaving a community hall show I was doing with my first band.
Although I never meant to have a child, I see that night as one of the most important moments in my life. We were so young and we ended up in each other’s arms only because we needed to feel loved, even if it was just for one night. But I found a love that night that has been growing stronger ever since, the love I have for my son David. He was adopted and raised by his biological grandmother, Joan. It has been complicated at times – life is complicated – but things worked out for the best. I know this and I see it every time I see him smile.
I told Jane about David before we were married. I was worried about telling her. But I shouldn’t have been. David was important to me, but the fact that I already had a son in Adelaide might, I felt, put Jane off having a relationship with me. I wanted her to know that this was my responsibility and not hers. I would understand if she wanted nothing to do with David. In fact, I would understand if she wanted nothing to do with me. But I underestimated Jane, not for the first or last time. If I had a son, Jane wanted to meet him, be a part of his life. If he was a part of me then she would love him too. If he was a part of me then he was a part of her. It was that simple.
I tried to explain why I hadn’t seen a lot of David, the circumstances that dictated our relationship. She said, ‘Nothing or no one could keep me away from my child. You need to be in his life. He needs you and you need him.’
I felt stupid for not reacting the same way. Of course she was right, but where I came from, and my relationship with David’s mother and his grandmother, Joan, was something Jane knew nothing about. I told her about the circumstances around David’s birth and the relationship or lack of relationship that I had with Joan, who, by the way, David believed was his mother.
I never got on with Joan. I’m sure it was a lot to do with my age and my background but basically I didn’t like her that much. And more importantly, she didn’t like me at all. But she brought David up, and whether I liked her or not, she obviously did something right. You just have to look at him to see that. She never wanted money from me to help look after David. In fact, David was never to know that I had anything to do with him. So how could I bring anything to his life? I couldn’t see him. I had no money to give him and I lived in a different state to him. I lived in a different world to him. But David lived in the world that I had run away from. The world I hated. And I left him in the middle of it. What could I do? I couldn’t look after myself, never mind him. This caused me incredible pain. So I did what I did with everything that caused me pain. I ran from it. This made me feel a new guilt. I was starting to behave the same as my parents. No care and no responsibility. This could have been my family motto. I wonder how you say that in Latin. We could have written it on our coat of arms if we could have afforded a coat to write it on.
Jane pushed me into re-establishing contact with Joan and more importantly, with David. I thought seeing him would hurt but it didn’t. The more I saw him, the better I felt. David was always a good boy. He was soft, gentle and loving. As far as he knew, I was a friend of the family. It must have been confusing for him. I visited whenever I was in Adelaide. I’m not sure he knew what I did for a living but I couldn’t have looked like the rest of the family friends.
I would turn up at the door and be taken to the lounge room and left with him. ‘David, this ’ere is your Uncle Jim. He’s come to spend a bit of time wiff you, son,’ Joan would say in a stern English working-class voice and then leave the room.
I would sit down, not knowing what to say or do. ‘So. How are you?’
David would look at me and say, ‘Hello.’ And then nothing.
‘Are these your toys over here?’ I would say, stating the obvious, trying to get him to talk to me.
Then David would get up and play. ‘Do you want to play with me?’ It was as if David knew how uncomfortable I was and tried to make it easier for me.
‘Yeah. That’d be nice.’
We would spend half an hour talking and playing then I would have to leave. ‘I have to go now but would you mind if I came back to see you again?’
He would look at me with eyes that said he knew who I was, even though he couldn’t have, and say, ‘Yeah, that would be nice.’
He would kiss my cheek. I would make an uncomfortable attempt at a hug and then we’d walk to the kitchen where Joan was waiting, drinking tea.
‘David must never, ever know about you, Jim. You know it would break his little ’eart. And nun of us want that, do we?’ she would say as she saw me out the door.
It was painful but I loved seeing him. He looked like me. Well, he did to me anyway. I could see myself in him. But he was softer, much softer than I was. Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t know me. Or my family. We’d only hurt him too.
By the end of Cold Chisel, I saw him more and more. Jane came with me a few times to meet him. He was immediately more comfortable with her than he was with me. She was great with children. But Joan made it harder each time I went. I would ring and she would be horrible on the phone. Eventually though, we got to spend time with David alone. He came with us for a picnic in the Hills. But as soon as we were away from Joan, David would start to get sick. He would have migraines. Joan would tell me later that they were emotional. ‘It’s too hard on the poor little fing. I don’t fink it’s good for him to be wiff you alone. He’s better off ’ere wiff me.’
I knew that this was going to get worse before it got better.
THE BAND HIT THE road, and married life and Cold Chisel were thrown together. Cold Chisel had always been five guys fighting as one. Every now and then one more body would join the gang: Peter Moss; Alan Dallow; Billy Rowe; Gerry Georgettis, our new sound guy; Harry Parsons, our foldback operator; even Rod Willis. Rod of course was one of us. Once Rod joined he was there for decades. But there were never any girls who could come between us. Girlfriends came and went but when push came to shove, the band always came first. That all changed when I met Jane. From the minute I met her, the band took a backseat. They knew it too and they didn’t like it. This was the beginning of the end.
Jane and I were in it together. Us against the world, and that included everyone, even Cold Chisel, and in particular the management. Jane was the first person to say to me, ‘Hey, considering how many people come to see you and how many records you are selling every day, you don’t make a lot of money. Don’t you think that’s a little strange?’
I’d never really cared that much. I had brought it up once, at that band meeting at the Plaza I told you about, but it was never mentioned again.
‘Yeah. I think you’re right, now that I think about it.’
Jane wanted to make sure I was all right, and not getting taken advantage of. ‘Why don’t you ask for more money? You’re married now and you know we want to have a family sooner or later. You should know exactly where all your money goes. It’s just good business.’
I felt a little stupid. Of course I should know where it all went. But it never mattered really until then.
‘Yeah, I’ll ask about it next time we meet.’ I didn’t. But I would soon, and it would cause problems.