Introducing I Once Met ... Readers' recollections about their encounters with the great, the good and the not-so-good ... First in a series ... Leverhulme has a brusque introduction to Bob Hawke in 1989
Hawke: no tips from Colin Hayes or Bart Cummings
I had watched him on TV since I was a kid. I had seen him snarl at journalists like Richard Carleton and step in at the last minute to solve industrial disputes.
I had shuffled awkwardly as he cried over his daughter. I had been up all night with him watching the America's Cup and I had seen him win four fascinating Federal elections.
I had heard stories about his affairs and his friendships with people like Laurie Connell.
When he was interviewed he was always persuasive and often he answered with searing honesty. I longed for him to lead the Labor Party and when he became Prime Minister I cheered his triumphs - like stopping the Franklin Dam and leading the world against apartheid.
One of my friends, Jimmy Broderick, said he was a nasty piece of work but I defended him and put it down to Jim being a Liberal.
In my opinion, he was the perfect leader. He was my hero; someone I could be proud of.
Then, in 1989, on a grey Saturday afternoon at Elwick races in Hobart I was invited to a small makeshift room under the grandstand. The usual committee room was being revamped.
He marched in with three policeman and went straight to the television set on the wall. He was smaller than I expected. He wore a grey suit and had slightly hunched shoulders. There was an aura but paradoxically there was an unmistakable air of ordinariness.
About a dozen people were in the room. Each was introduced to the Prime Minister and his handshake was firm.
Over the next couple of hours, he barely spoke to us. I realised that for him, this was relaxation. The policemen were dispatched to the betting ring with his wagers. He was transfixed by the interstate races on the wall.
Now and again, he said something to someone. Trying to be interesting I ventured to say, "Prime Minister, you obviously put a lot of work into your bets". He nodded and said "I do".
I was just a voter, one of that fabled amorphous mass, with which he had a great connection - according to the press.
"Do you ring-up Colin Hayes and Bart Cummings for tips?"
The response was immediate. "No I fucking don't" he shouted. It was if I had accused him of child murder. "I work them out for my fucking self." He glared at me.
And that was it. I backed away gingerly towards the bar not daring to approach Bob Hawke again.
Justinian invites contributions to I Once Met ... Email: justinian@lawpress.com.au