2. CHAPTER ONE - MY ROOTS
LIFE ON A CATTLE STATION
have always had an affinity for the Australian bush, a deep admiration for the
young, rugged country where people were made strong, where toughness and
determination were instilled into people. Looking back, my youth and the
simplicity of living on a sheep and cattle station prevented me from fully appreciating that I was
being raised by one of Australia’s giants.
Let me tell you a little about the town where I grew up in Australia. Goondiwindi is a small
country town of approximately 5,629 people today. The town’s annual population growth is about
1.4% per year and is situated along the MacIntyre River in Queensland, near the New South Wales
border. To get a better perspective, the town is approximately 350 kilometers (220 miles)
southwest of the Queensland state capital, Brisbane.
Now, here are some real statistics to set the stage: the funny name Goondiwindi derives
from a local Aboriginal word meaning "the resting place of the birds". This little country town was
first proclaimed a municipality on October 20, 1888. The town boundaries have not altered to this
day. For years, well before Federation, Goondiwindi served as one of very few border crossings
between Queensland and New South Wales. The name may ring a bell for some horse enthusiasts
because for years the most famous resident in town called, Gunsynd, was a thoroughbred
racehorse known as "The Goondiwindi Grey". In the late 1960s and early 1970s, after
accomplishing 29 wins and coming third in the 1972 Melbourne Cup, the horse become famous
I

3. and today there is a statue of, Gunsynd, that stands prominently in the city park right in the town
center. For the country folks in town, it put them on the map and to this day it continues to give
them a certain status and prestige
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MY BIRTH
I came along in the year of 1942, right after the Great Depression. Back then the town
only consisted of 2,000 people; today it has an extra 3,669 people, not a lot of growth in 69 years
I’d say. Remembering that far back, I find it interesting that the first people who come to my mind
are the nurse and doctor. I can even tell you their names, Dr. Alex Chambers and the nurse . . . yes,
Matron Geddes. They presided over all family births and were responsible for the medical
treatment of the entire town. On what has been described to me as a crisp, beautiful spring day in
the Australian bush land, this doctor and nurse brought me screaming into the world.
The hospital consisted of a small wooden building that sat unobtrusively by the side of the
MacIntyre River. I still associate my childhood ailments with the nurse; she was a very caring and
dedicated woman. The doctor himself was quite an unusual character in as much as he never
prepared or sent bills to anyone in the town. Rich or poor, everyone went to him. My family used
to go in every now and then and give him money. But, the doctor never asked for payment; instead
he placed a cup in the waiting area, and if possible, the patients would drop a few shillings or
whatever they could afford into the cup, a system certainly unheard of today. He was a wonderful
person; I remember him quite distinctly. He’s best described as an average-looking middle-aged
man who was portrayed, most definitely, as a servant of the people.
From a very young age, I became aware that my father was of a prominent statue in the

4. town—I remember thinking that he must have been like a king of the district. He was a person
who was always navigating the waters of public scrutiny . . . I want to get to all that, but first I
want to speak of my grandfather, and grandmother—they are my roots.
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MY GRANDFATHER
Walter Gunn was a dominant individual in the community: chairman of the district, head
of all local government, and even chairman of the horseracing club—a position that awarded my
siblings and me lots of fun and enjoyment. I remember every New Year’s Day he and my father
would organize a big rodeo for the townspeople—we were set free for the day with our ponies,
just to go and do what kids do—have fun. My father always provided ponies for the children of
any social status, because some families weren’t as lucky. I remember we would run the horses in
as a mob to the town fourty miles away and back home again another fourty miles after a full day
of fun, on which I might add was also the hottest day of the year in Queensland. Shit, we did that
for twenty years!
My grandfather was like Big Daddy in the classic movie Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, starring
Elizabeth Taylor, Paul Newman, and Burl Ives. He was tremendously successful, even though he
left school at an early age. His father had no money but did have some prominence. Grandfather
was entirely a self-made man. He did things the hard way—exactly what you’d expect from an
Australian living on the land. Back in those days he was a drover; he made his money by trading
sheep, eventually enabling him to buy up properties around the area.
My grandparents purchased a property they called Kildonan in 1934. It was just a raw
sheep station then, but it has remained in the family for 69 years. The house, filled with an aura of

5. prominence and grace, accommodated many trusted memories over the years. As a matter of fact,
the property was turned over in World War II for use as a hospital for the troops. During that time,
my grandparents graciously moved into town to a much smaller house for the duration of the war.
They returned when the war ended and Kildonan continued to house the ghosts of the brave,
restless, and disheartened soldiers who had once been stationed there. I have no real recollections,
as I wasn’t aware of that period. I only heard the stories being told, and as for me, I only ever
knew of my grandparents living there.
Many of the kids in town called my grandfather, Bati, but I always called him grandfather.
He was the patriarch of the town, the boss of all social events and most importantly, the organizer.
He gained a lot of respect from the community. He was not unlike the town doctor; when the very
poor immigrants came to town he would help them get jobs as sheep shearers. The well-to-do
people in the district would have nothing to do with them, but my grandfather would step up to the
plate and give them blankets and sometimes he supplied a sheep, giving them food to eat for days.
I remember accompanying him when he did this, he was like a one-man welfare department.
But don’t get me wrong, he didn’t do it simply as kindness; it was done more in a
demanding way. He would never allow anyone to sit on their bum—they had to work to get his
respect and repay the generosity with hard work. I recall also that he was instrumental in helping
the Aborigine, who was being badly treated, during that time in Australia. In fact, there was an
Aborigine community living at a mission station situated almost opposite the Kildonan property.
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MY GRANDMOTHER

6. Doris Isabelle Brown was equally dominating: she ran all the various women’s affairs
around the district. Granny, as I called her, was extremely intimidating and very self-possessed.
She was a woman way before her time. She was graced with having no tolerance for being told to
stay in her place, which women were expected to do in those days. She was generations ahead of
the average woman, constantly defying all conventional practices. She was also a spendthrift,
probably not a good mother, and she was most difficult. I think it was her sister who actually
raised my father.
What a character she was, though as they come—ornery and indomitable. For years she
was a horseracing enthusiast. I remember when she was in her eighties or nineties; I was called to
her deathbed. I must have been thirty at that time. Well, when I got there, as I was standing on the
verandah waiting for someone to open the door, her nurse greeted me and gave me the news by
saying, “Well, she done taken herself off to the races—ornery old woman!” That really set me on
my back heels. I left, astounded once again by her behavior. Later I was informed that upon her
return home she simply got into bed and died. Even at the very end, she defied convention. She
brings a smile to my face even to this day; she was an exceptional lady whom, even as a young
man, I recognized had been born well before her time. She would rightly fit in today among the
women whose voices are changing policies at a rapid rate.
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MARY PHILLIPA HAYDEN
In 1939 my father married Mary Phillipa Hayden. He was managing Kildonan for my
grandfather at the time, but together they pioneered a property called Tarewinnabar, which

7. consisted of 35,000 acres of untouched brigalow and belar scrub. Fortunately, there was a house
on the property at Tarewinnabar. When I came along four years later, that was where my siblings
and I grew up. My mother helped my father with the difficult job of clearing the land. Need I
mention that a woman’s life in the Australian bush was more than laborious, but theirs was a
lasting relationship. Their marriage survived 62 years and they would bear three children: my two
sisters and me. I’ll talk more about my parents as my life story unfolds.
The Kildonan property was by far and away the biggest house in the district, which
continued to warrant lots of managing on my father’s part. To this day my father is recognized as
one of the original pioneers of land development in the district and in fact, in the state. I grew up
respecting both my grandfather and father, as did everyone else in the district . . . but, they were
also feared a little. I think my father was very influenced by his own father, who was naturally his
role model, yet my father went on to far out-achieve my grandfather by orders of magnitude.
Now, my mum was my whole world. She was the authority figure, and Mr. Big was my
grandfather. I don’t remember a close relationship with my grandfather; he was distant, not kindly,
always doing things because they needed to be done. He was a good man and I remained in awe of
him, as I did my father. In writing this, I am vividly reminded of my life choices that broke the
chain of public service in the Gunn family. Community service has been absolutely ingrained in
my family. In fact, the only person who hasn’t been a community organizer is myself!
Eventually, even the grandchildren became prominent figures in various communities in
Australia—one became the mayor of Toowoomba, another was elected leader of the cotton farms,
and another earned his right by becoming head of the gain growers of Queensland. My

8. grandfather’s father was probably the first Member of Parliament, and I’m probably sixth
generation Australian, if not sixth then certainly fifth. I come from the original free settlers of
Queensland, who were Scottish. They migrated from a little strath (a broad Scottish mountain
valley) in Northern Scotland called the Strath of Kildonan, thus giving them the name of the
family property.
And indeed, my great-grandfather may have been one of the first Members of Parliament,
as well as my grandfather on my mother’s side. As I mentioned, public service and community
affairs are prevalent in our family. The Gunn families throughout the generations were only
always sheep farmers and public servants. My father became known to some as a personal hero
but to others he earned the reputation of a villain, all while leaving a big footprint planted in
Australian history.
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