1982.

In the February  Peppercorn was no more. There was vague talk of reuniting later in the year, but neither Bob, the redheaded fiddler, or B.G had any faith in that. Although they remain friends through to present day, Peppercorn was just a pleasant memory. They both later declared that Peppercorn was one of the most promising groups they had ever worked with.

As B.G. still frequented The New Endeavour, he and Fish and Chip Shop Terry, (remember him?) along with an American architect who preferred to call himself Bud and  played a conglomerate of tympanic devices such as conga drums, bongoes, snare and small tom-toms formed a group which Fish and Chip Shop Terry insisted on titling Gripweed.

With this B.G. entered a new spectrum. Unfortunately the spectrum did not please the patrons and crew members. Whereas Bobby had spent the last eighteen months entertaining them with his semi folk/Australiana type songs the introduction of Bud and his collection of ear shattering cacophony gave them no pleasure whatsoever.

Together as a group they worked at various venues around The Rocks, such as The Argyle Tavern, the Orient Hotel and The Five Bells,  but somehow it didn’t quite work out. This was probably due to the fact that the American architect preferred numbers based around his tympanic equipment, the fish and chip shop lad went for the more jazz based songs and B.G. didn’t care  to being relegated to the rhythm section. Ergo Gripweed died through lack of interest.

 

1983.

B.G. returned to his solo work and even employed an agent, Jason Darnell, who obtained gigs for him at other clubs but in the early part of the year, as suggested by his friend Gordon, he auditioned for Dirty Dick’s Theatre Restaurant and to his surprise, due to his knowledge of bawdy songs, was accepted to play the part of a minstrel in their forthcoming production of The Knight and The Page Boy. Jason, his agent, strongly advised him against this move, saying that Actors Equity, the entertainers union, strongly disapproved of the venue as the fees were well below their standards. As B.G had lost his day job he  found that he needed whatever work he could get and accepted the paltry fee for the time being. Unfortunately, or probably fortunately as the case proved, he was fired by the producer after insisting on using his own words in some of the bawdy songs.

 

1984.

During the following years B.G. returned to being known as Robert Trupp. Apart from becoming a mite shat off with the entertaining industry he was stricken with osteo arthritis which brought about local pain in the hands. Nonetheless he still did the odd gig if certain amounts of money were waved under his nose.

 

1986.

In the autumn of this year Robert was confronted with an offer he couldn’t refuse. He had made the acquaintance of Jim Clifford, a Welsh born singer/actor who had performed in Channel Ten’s Showcase the same time Robert, as Bobby Gripweed, had sung for Channel Nine’s New Faces in 1968.

Robert’s agent Jason Darnell had introduced them and they had performed as a duo, for a short time in Clubs and restaurants and even actors for Corporate promotions from corn flakes, washing powder to rat traps and padlocks. Jim had been working on a floating restaurant known as The Jolly Roger, singing with Lyn McCarthy, a particularly toothsome soubrette in her mid twenties. He acted the part of Pinchgut Pete, the Pirate King whilst Lyn portrayed Lady Jane Beach his assistant in maritime shenanigans. Unfortunately Jim could no longer fulfill his contract with Doug, the Chino/Austro manager cum owner of the vessel, as he had been offered an important role in Bunny Gibson’s musical adaptation of Dicken’s David Copperfield.

The going rate offered by Doug far excelled anything Robert had previously been paid, but Jim had certainly  put in a good word for him. Prior to actually performing Robert took a few trips to witness Jim’s interpretation of Pinchgut Pete and quickly realised that Jim was just about inventing everything he did, completely ignoring Doug’s script. His partner Lyn McCarthy was quite content to go along with anything he did and by the time The Jolly Roger left the wharf, after being fed with several litres of Doug’s special red wine, the audience had almost lost their reason and couldn’t have cared less.

To say that the script was flimsy; indicating that someone had at least used a modicum of imagination, would have been complimentary. In fact after seeing it that first night on board, “It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time” was a masterpiece in comparison. Nonetheless Doug and his family (who made up most of the staff and crew) laughed and clapped their delighted oriental hands at anything and everything Jim and Lyn did or said. (I imagine Milton’s Paradise Lost would have had them rolling in the aisles.)

The Jolly Roger usually departed from Pier One, Darling Harbour every Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights at 1800 hrs. It’s course via Birkenhead Point, back round Cockatoo Island, north east up the Harbour past Bradley’s, cutting across to Double Bay arrived back down at Port Jackson.

Apart from flights of fancy by Ove the skipper, a not so melancholy Dane, they usually stuck to the same routine and only once, in the middle of a rather unpleasant storm did they vary their course by sheltering in Tarban Creek. The voyage would continue on till after 2400hrs. Lady Jane and Robert would be required to perform three times for forty five minutes during the course of the evening. During the soup, they would let the audience know that they were on the hunt for treasure someone had stolen and disguised as a fellow reveller, the evil Captain Ben Dover was planning to take it away when they docked.

Their job; Pinchgut Pete and Lady Jane Beach, was to find and unmask this devil incarnate and serve him with his just deserts. At dinner, approximately 2100hrs they revealed more clues and sang more songs. Lyn, aka Lady Jane cracked jokes and threatened some male patrons with her rubber cutlass. At 2230 at ‘puddin’ time, they revealed the real Ben Dover, (one of the loudest mouthed male guests) and, as punishment, was forced to sing a silly song as his friends bombarded him with beer soaked paper napkins.

All good clean fun and something to not only write in your memoirs, but good material for your grandchildren in your dotage. But the only thing the patrons felt after this voyage of discovery was a blinding hangover and a sharp depletion in the wallet area.

During the six hour trip Lyn and Robert were only required to actually perform for two and a quarter hours. During the times they weren’t performing they’d be either eating their dinner away from public view or chatting to Ove at the wheelhouse. Sometimes Steve, Lyn’s boyfriend, would join the voyage and in her spare time would be spent snogging with him on the boat deck, whilst Robert spent his time attempting to understand the Dane’s hit-and-miss interpretation of English. Occasionaly he would be allowed to steer the vessel which, after several sucks on his hipflask of Black Label Inner Circle Rum caused it to almost spiral out of control.

He soon became accustomed to this routine but by the time the now empty, Jolly Roger decanted him at Berry’s Bay, where he had parked his vehicle, he found himself arriving home at 0230hrs. The wear on the vocal chords due the constant use of Robert Newton’s gravelly, “aaahr- me hearties”, and “avaste there ye swabbies” gave Lynette the strongest impression that he was coming down with something nasty.

He could now understand just why Jim Clifford was so happy to pass this gig on to him, never mind about David Copperfield.

The job only lasted for three months and Robert was more than happy when Doug explained that the vessel, which had, prior to it’s piratical career, been a harbour ferry, was sprouting so many holes and dings it was beginning to be a ‘touch and go’ question if it would actually make it back to Pier One each night. He was now confronted with the problem of extricating his pay from Doug’s sticky fingers. He hadn’t paid him for a month to six weeks, saying that it had to be ‘passed’ by the management. In the end he had to visit, the ‘managements’ office in Clarence Street waiting in reception whilst Doug, his wife and what he imagined were members of some Chinese Society, sitting in another office hoping that he would lose interest and go away. But as he did not and never would like being dudded he stayed there and after two hours Doug’s secretary presented him with a cheque for his services.

 

To be continued......

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