Foreign Orders

"Hi, I'm Mike. And I'm Mal and this is our Kombi, Greg". So went the introduction to a 1970's satirical segment on an evening comedy show lampooning in this case, the Leyland brothers, arguably still Australia's most successful documentary producers.

They were easy targets. Their folksy and unsophisticated presentations touched a nerve within the Australian psyche for while they might have been the butt of many jokes they were also nationally recognised and were comfortable visitors to our lounge rooms through their television series for almost a decade. 

In an uncharacteristic move Mike recently published a book on his life as a Leyland brother. Uncharacteristic, as Mike was the acknowledged cameraman of the duo and Mal the wordsmith. It is worth noting that the plethora of travel and lifestyle shows that permeate Australian television are rooted in the concepts and ideas pioneered by the Leylands.

Here I must admit to being an unabashed admirer of their accomplishments. Film-making is a complex and difficult task and they were self taught. Choosing to stay in Newcastle denied them access to the skills and knowledge that were fomenting 100 miles south. They never accepted these things as handicaps and have consequently written themselves into a very deserved page or two of Australia's cinematic history.

My relationship with them started on a casual basis in the middle '70's, assisting in re-editing some of their original documentaries to create a new series albeit repackaged from earlier programmes. Terry Horne, a former film editor at Channel Three had been working with them but left for a position in Canberra leaving them a little under-resourced at the time.

Working for the Leylands was different to news and drew on some self taught skills that I'd garnered through making car rally documentaries. My empathy here shows through. The work was additionally attractive as it challenged and reinforced what I'd learnt through my own endeavours. Consequently at one stage I indicated to Mal and Laraine that I wouldn't mind joining their organisation.

Leyland Brothers Scenic Souvenir Movies was an entrepreneurial initiative that sought to offer amateur movie makers professional vision to splice into their own films, building on the idea of people buying iconic slides of various tourist spots. They targeted three regions; the Gold Coast, Central Australia and the emerging Sunshine Coast. Employing a sales person to sign up various tour operators in each of the regions whose investment would largely underwrite the productions, I was subsequently engaged to shoot them. This obviated taking annual leave from Channel 3 continuing a precedent the Leylands had established in the making of their formative documentary "Down the Darling."

Glitz plus glamour equals the Gold Coast... an equation without question. And in 1976 the Les Girls show at the Broadbeach Hotel reinforced it. Capturing some of it was one of my first tasks on the Gold Coast schedule.

A camera is a convenient way of distancing yourself from or surreptitiously perving on a subject, regardless of the subject.

On this night such activities were almost invited. With a husky voice and a voluptuous body exuding 'exotic' pheromones across the table towards me my fantasies were on fire... and it was a long way from home. How quickly they were doused with the revelation that 'she' was a 'he', in fact the whole show was 'hes' being 'shes'. Although I was vaguely aware of this style of trans-gender entertainment up close it was even more remarkable at how believably they could make the transformation. I can't recall what I filmed that night but I have never forgotten that fantasy across the table. I'm not sure that Mal would have approved.

It was always a little disconcerting when I turned up somewhere to do some filming on the Leylands' behalf only to be greeted by some crestfallen people who had been expecting one if not both of the brothers to appear. Even more perplexing were those who questioned whether I was Mike or Mal.

Contrary to popular belief Queensland is not always perfect yet it needed to be in order for me to capture sparkling, iconic scenes. So it was that after a few days of perfection Surfers Paradise looked as dismal as does anywhere else in Australia under the influence of leaden skies. Consequently with nothing to shoot I decided to temporarily suspend my work commitment and take to the skies. In a hang-glider.

Inexperience and arrogance saw me break my left wrist that afternoon in a poorly executed landing. Despite the setback I successfully completed the Gold Coast filming then drove home. With hindsight that was not a good idea as my car had no such thing as automatic transmission, cruise control or power steering, putting all the strain on my right hand and arm. Years of carrying heavy camera equipment however had ensured the arm was up to it. The successful completion of the journey (they didn't even have speed cameras in those days) reinforced my conviction that I could do anything - well almost anything... which was fortunate as I had to carry that plaster for the next three months including completing shooting for the Leylands in Central Australia and the Sunshine Coast.

John Paul Young has enjoyed a recent resurgence in his career but in 1976 he was JPY and riding the crest of the pop wave. But in Alice Springs? While I was there filming for the Leylands he was to perform at the pub at the bottom of Todd Street, the Alice's main drag. This performance was a must have for the films to reflect a little of the 'contemporary nightlife' of the town. It was difficult to keep this in mind with temperatures in June heading sub zero as I shivered down the street for the 11 pm commitment. Back in my motel room after the concert I reflected on how disciplined the concert had been. With the temperature in my room now at minus one I think I shivered more than the crowd shook.

The view from the top of Ayers Rock seems hardly worth the exertion of the climb, particularly with one arm in plaster. Nevertheless it also was 'must have' footage so with some assistance with the tripod I completed the ascent. That people have died undertaking the venture doesn't surprise me, it is after all a rock with near vertical faces, but that didn't deter me either. The view from the top? Hundreds of square kilometres of desert save for a distant rocky outcrop called the Olgas. The good part about it was that it made you appreciate how microscopic a speck is mankind in the Earth's greater tapestry. Our indigenous people have perhaps a greater understanding of this perspective.

By the time I came to shoot the Sunshine Coast series of films I had become quite adept at working with an arm in plaster. I had even returned to hang gliding with a camera strapped to the wing for a self portrait. Ego is not a dirty word. The only recollection I have of the Sunshine Coast is the hotel in which I stayed. Called the Surfair International it was a pretentious name for a six storey pub in what was then the middle of nowhere, Maroochy. There was the hotel and a take-way food bar over the road and about three houses. I passed through some years ago and couldn't find it among the forest of apartment blocks that have since mushroomed in the area.

On introducing myself people often remark "Nancarrow? That's an unusual name" followed by "I don't suppose you know such and such Nancarrow?" Generally I don't know 'such and such' - it's a far more common surname than assumed. However the wife of one of the tour operators I was to film on the Sunshine Coast was formerly a Nancarrow and we were distantly related.

Unfortunately buying movie footage of scenic tourist locations was less attractive to tourists than buying comparable slides or it seemed anything else and the boys were forced to bring down the curtain on this entrepreneurial exercise, chastened but still with unbridled enthusiasm. The project's end was not the end of my relationship with the Leylands. As well as assisting Mal with a segment on hang gliding down at Catherine Hill Bay I also featured in the segment. But the camera battery was failing and on air I sounded a close cousin to Mickey Mouse.

My love of hang gliding was to be a turning point in the relationship. I had had several serious conversations with Mal and Laraine about joining them full time. I'd even gone so far as to have the doors on the double garage I was having built extended to allow access for a Kombi with a hang glider secured to the roof. Recognition that weeks on the road would reduce my available time for hang gliding plus a case of good old fashioned cold feet saw me reject Mal's entreaties and stay with Channel 3.

Fortunately the Leylands held no grudges and in the early '80's now in my own business, I shot on videotape a collection of introductory and linking pieces for a new series up on their property near Tea Gardens. Additionally  I shot footage of their embryonic 'Leyland Brothers World'. As Mal then expressed it, it was their dream and they would build it piece by piece as funds became available.

Enthusiasm and courage they had and in the halcyon days of the late '80's that was all you needed to raise capital. I can recall Mal indicating to me with a mixture of pride and anxiety that they now employed at Leyland Brothers World 60 people. It was no longer a small family concern. The public bankruptcy of the Leylands and the split between the brothers is an unfortunate end to a venture that showed much of ordinary Australians to ordinary Australians. They dared and we followed - the grey nomads owe a vote of thanks.

Following their demise I was able to offer Mal and Laraine some small support as they struggled to re- establish themselves in a publishing venture while a good client of my former business was chuffed that I was able to set up a liaison between Mike and himself to pick up where I left off. It is a small recompense for the experiences we shared.

A bitter twist of fate has already written the closing credits for their most challenging journey, one they will experience separately, Mike with Parkinson's disease and Mal with cancer. If a picture is worth a thousand words the Leyland's legacy is encyclopaedic in its extent.

Epilogue

Since writing these anecdotes back in 2007, sadly Mike Leyland has died. At his funeral I commented to Phil Lloyd another of my mentors who had worked closely with the Leylands that I felt that with Mike's passing the top had been chopped from my tree. In his wonderfully philosophical style Phil reassuringly reflected that it encouraged new growth. Profound.