From the desk of Roland Rocchiccioli

FAMOUSLY, George Bernard Shaw declared: “youth is wasted on the young.” While it is not entirely accurate, the spirit of his remark is patently understandable.

The close of 2024 marks 60-years since I left secondary school and went out into-the-world to make my way. While it is a goodly span, it is, in the sweep of the cosmos, a whisper on the winds-of-time. The ‘how’ and ‘why of our lives remain a mystery — the great conundrum.

With the words of the Dismissal Hymn ringing in my years: Let thy Father hand be shielding/all who here shall meet no more/, I went from the final, candle-lit, Carol Service at boarding school, into life’s harsh reality. I was a naïve teenager. I floated in a fantasy world of music and poetry. I was a dreamer. I had no thought for the rest of my life. Consequently, I made no meaningful preparation. I loved the shanty town of Gwalia, and rather imagined I would return and live with my father. I had no understanding of time or future. I was discombobulated by reality.

January 1965, my father was in Perth, recovering from major surgery for silicosis and tuberculosis. He, together with my brother, took me to a boarding-house in Bayview Terrace, Claremont. He paid two-weeks rent, and left me to get-on with my life — as he had done when he arrived in Australia, January 1926. Retrospectively, it is a puzzlement I managed to survive. Were it not for Mrs. McNicol, and Pop, who operated the superb establishment, I suspect the life I know might not have come-to-pass. I had a brief stint in the Commonwealth Bank but realised a career in the financial world was not a realistic prospect. I loathed every last second. It was an incompatible marriage!

Fortune favours the brave, and whimsically, with no prospect, I decided to pursue my childhood dream and “be on the wireless”. In 1965, I dared to audition for the ABC. Following three attempts — my foreign languages were not of a standard, I was hired as a cadet announcer in the children’s department — under the supervision of actress Nancy Nunn, the mother of actress and writer, Judy Nunn; however, it was an audition at The Playhouse Theatre, Pier Street, an auditorium I had visited many times as a student, which proved epiphanic. I read for the artistic director, Edgar Metcalfe, and he offered me work. He gifted me a wonderful career. It marked the beginning of my life in the theatre. I left Perth, 1968, for Sydney, and a life I never imagined as a child in the goldfields. I was 21.

Recollecting my years — 1969-72, with Harry M. Attractions for Theatre Heritage, a comprehensive, online website, stirred myriad memories. It was part of a revolutionary time in Australian music and drama. Mr. Miller single-handedly changed the face of theatre in this country. The numerous productions included HAIR, Jesus Christ Superstar, The Rocky Horror Show, and The Boys in the Band.

It has been, and continues to be, a singularly remarkable journey. I have been accorded every opportunity, and from a position of unique advantage. If I were able to write to my younger self, I would advise: “Do not be cautious. You will not fail. Sometimes you will be less successful, but never pass-up the chance.” Time is fleeting. While I am deeply grateful, the sixty glorious years have passed at such a pace!

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