Almanac Memories: Drinking with Billy Serong Part 2

 

 

 

The framed photo of the crew at the North Fitzroy Arms. Billy Serong is in the dark blue shirt behind Jimmy Wall who is standing.

 

 

Bill Serong died on May 20, a couple of weeks after his 88th birthday. I used to have the occasional beer with Bill at the North Fitzroy Arms.

Those were the days.

If you walked into the North Fitzroy Arms in the mid-2000s, you’d have seen quite a few familiar faces: Max Radcliffe from round the corner; Rocky, drinking lights after a day on the tools; Max Walker, not the sportsman, but the health bureaucrat; Bobby Sutherland just passing through; Jolly Rogers, puppeteer and sportslover; a Sheahan or two – Shane and, on Fridays, Tony, the former state treasurer; Russell Badham, wine merchant and part-owner of Methodical Boy (not that his wife knew); Billy Bennett, who played in the Blues `68 premiership but just as significantly ran pubs in western Queensland; Comrade Loophole Lenny Hartnett, radical, and barrister at law; real estate agent Steve Earl; and another real estate agent, Shane Mooney; crime writer John Carroll and his mate Rod; journo and news editor Jimmy Wall. Among many others.

In those days the North Fitzroy Arms had a robust footy tipping comp. The expectation was that, on Friday evenings, you’d make every effort to put your tips in by turning up, not via the phone or email. The little pub, usually quiet in that Jack-Irish-regulars sort of way, was packed, two or three deep at the bar. The fires crackled, the beers went down, the conversation sparkled.

Sitting on a stool at the bar would sometimes be legendary footballer, Collingwood 1958 Premiership player, Bill Serong.

I was new to Melbourne, and one of many things I loved about this great city was that I was living the Melbourne life I’d been reading about and watching for years. That included football. Football clubs were real; footballers were real. They were among us.

I always got a kick out of walking into a pub and being served by someone who’d been on one of my Scanlen’s footy cards, or had been the subject of an article I’d read in the newspaper, or a magazine like Inside Football, or been interviewed by Tim Lane on The Winners. Someone we’d watched on Channel 7’s Match of the Day for seasons, champions and journeymen alike. I loved that Gary Merrington was pouring beers for us, and chatting away about a young prospect he’d spotted (no names), or Spud Dullard, the Melbourne backman, or, heading towards Town, David Rhys-Jones (“He’s such a nice bloke.”) Bar manager for a few years, Tex Freeman, played a squillion games at Springvale.

Those for whom the North Fitzroy Arms was pub-home were unfailing in their willingness to welcome. They would bring you into the school or, if that were going to complicate the round, to at least bring you into the circle. And to make sure you had, at some point in time, been introduced to everyone in that circle.

Which is how I met Bill Serong.

I recognised the name from that `58 premiership side. But, at that time, my knowledge of 1950s Melbourne football had enormous gaps, and I didn’t fully appreciate his place. A lot of those gaps were filled across twenty years, just by being in Melbourne, sometimes by listening to stories in pubs. Some told by Bill.

But I learnt more about Bill from others (“Solicitor. Parade boy. Eleven kids. Magnificent family man. Played footy in the bush. Good bloke, really good bloke.”) He was a big, strong, skilful, explosive footballer. He was the archetypal bustling centreman. He was the archetypal pub man.

Bill loved the fraternity of the front bar, the sense that of all the places that those who were in the bar at any given moment could be, they were in the front bar. Chance played a part in that and, for that hour or maybe more, they were the people who mattered. He was genuinely interested in everyone and gave them his attention. He understood the back-and-forth of good conversation.

I found myself asking him lots of questions. He had a memory for detail on some things, the blessing of any good story-teller. Other things, he waved away. He told me about his days as a young bloke, teaching in the bush and training with Geelong while playing for Collingwood. Bill loved Reg Hickey, respected Reg Hickey, for understanding his situation. Bill had almost played for Geelong.

During those early years in Melbourne, I was meeting lots of old footballers, and writing about them. I went to an MCG game (Dees v Dogs) with Noel McMahen who, after captaining Melbourne to the 1955 and `56 premierships, left Melbourne to coach Rochester in the Bendigo League. Footy was more lucrative in the country throughout the `50s and early `60s. Footy historian Rocket Rod Gillett, who has written about Billy, loves to tell the story of Noel winning two flags at Rochy. They say the breaking of the premiership drought was Noel’s favourite moment in footy.

After leaving Collingwood, and playing a season at North Melbourne, Bill also went bush, where he coached Echuca, arch-rivals of Rochy. Having completed his Law degree at Melbourne Uni, Bill was also able to do his articles up there. So, of course, Bill and Noel were well-known to each other and both had stories to tell.

Sometimes Bill would be reminisce but, like everyone else, he’d talk about things that were happening at the time, often inconsequential, although they could lead to places that mattered. Always positive and hopeful. Always an antidote to Max Radcliffe’s practised Group 1 cynicism and lack of faith in mankind. And there were plenty of laughs.

Rocky had known him for years. Bill’s legal practice was in Queen’s Parade, Clifton Hill. Magpie territory. He’d grown up with the colourful characters of Collingwood and Fitzroy, he’d been to school with them, and they hadn’t forgotten him. They were still living in the area and Bill was a handy man for them to know.

In those days Rocky drank at the Clifton Hill Hotel, a favourite haunt of Bill. (Sam Pang worked in the bottle shop). When Rocky moved to the North Fitzroy Arms, a few others, including Bill, moved with him.

Rocky and Bill drank together for thirty years. Rocky always wanted Bill to write his story. “Just turn the tape on one morning,” Rocky would say, “and start talking.” But I’m guessing Bill never did.

Although he didn’t talk a lot about it, Bill seemed to quite chuffed when the Collingwood 1958 Premiership side went into the Collingwood Hall of Fame together on the fiftieth anniversary of their famous triumph. Everyone was pleased for him.

It was fitting that Bill was in the pub when The Age came to write a story on corner pubs like the North Fitzroy Arms. It’s blokes like Bill who make pubs what they can be, who add to the day.

Vale Bill Serong.

 

 

 

Here’s Part 1 – from Rod Gillett:

 

Almanac Footy Memories: Drinking with Billy Serong Part 1

 

 

Read more from John Harms HERE

 

To return to the www.footyalmanac.com.au  home page click HERE

Our writers are independent contributors. The opinions expressed in their articles are their own. They are not the views, nor do they reflect the views, of Malarkey Publications.

Do you enjoy the Almanac concept?
And want to ensure it continues in its current form, and better? To help keep things ticking over please consider making your own contribution.

Become an Almanac (annual) member – CLICK HERE