Probation Officer
As he went from house to house, becoming acquainted with the people in Ascot Vale and Newmarket, Gordon found that most of the men in the area worked at one of the nearby industries—the abattoirs, the tannery or the boiling-down works. He also learned that nearly of them had ‘done time.’
Quite often, when enquiring about a family member he was told, “Oh, he’s not at work today. He had to appear in court.”
Appearing in court was almost a regular appointment for many of the slum dwellers. Usually the charge was `Drunk and Disorderly,’ a term which embraced foul language, and the fights which broke out in pubs and sports grounds over football scores or girls. At other times young fellows went joy-riding in stolen cars or much coveted motorbikes or senselessly vandalised public property.
By Monday morning when the alcohol-induced bravado had deserted them these miscreants were thankful to have someone testify in court that when sober, they were ordinary, law-abiding citizens. Gordon often obliged when concerned relatives pleaded: “Oh, please go to court and ask the judge to give him a second chance.”
On his first court visit Gordon felt over-awed by the bare- walled room with its benches and desks, leather-bound tomes of law and grim-faced prosecutors. He listened to the charges read, noted the form of presentation and the respectful way the magistrate was addressed, and in short time learned the correct courtroom procedure.
Eventually Gordon’s repeated appearances in court on behalf of various young offenders came to the magistrate’s attention. During lunch break one Monday he summoned the young pastor to his office.
Gordon wasn’t happy. `I wonder what’s behind this call? I know I haven’t done anything wrong as far as the law is concerned. Have I inadvertently flouted some court protocol?’ With sweaty palms he entered the office and in response to the magistrate’s nod, carefully seated himself on the edge of a straight-backed wooden chair.
Mr Mason, the magistrate, took off his spectacles and polished them slowly and deliberately, gazing at Gordon from under bushy eyebrows.
“I’ve noticed your concern for these people, young man.” Long pause. “Do you know the real problem with this court? I have to sentence too many of these offenders to gaol. They should be in the custody of someone like you, but there is only one probation officer for this whole district and he is already overloaded with cases.”
“Yes, they—” Gordon began to speak but the magistrate silenced him with a gesture.
“Once you lock one of these youngsters up you have lost him forever.” Mr Mason paused impressively. “But if you can get someone to show an interest in a lad, then I believe there is a chance of reforming him.”
Gordon remained silent. After holding his spectacles up to the light, squinting through them and giving a few more rubs with his snowy handkerchief, the magistrate continued:
“Young man, if you ever thought you would like to give your time to working as an honorary probation officer, I would be pleased to nominate you.”
Gordon gulped. He had not thought of such a thing. His own youthful contacts with the law had been for the wrong reasons. He was too young to take on such a job, wasn’t he?. He couldn’t—but should he? Conflicting thoughts churned in his mind.
“Thank you for your confidence in me, sir. I’ll think about it.”
Gordon thought and prayed about it and a few weeks later he accepted the magistrate’s offer. Later still a letter came from the Social Welfare Department Director-General, Mr A. R. Whitmore:
“I have the honour to inform you that you have been appointed by His Excellency the Governor in Council, a Probation Officer under Section 10 of Act No. 6218 for the Children’s Court in the State of Victoria, notification of which will appear in the Government Gazette.”
Proud to be the youngest Probation Officer in the State, Gordon did not realize how much work his appointment would entail. He already ministered to two churches and crammed extra studies into his free time, and now this. As well as having to attend court sessions he was liable to be summoned at any time if one of his charges got into trouble. Besides he had to be on hand when a boy on parole reported to him on a daily or weekly basis. Beverley couldn’t help, she worked in an office all day.
At least Gordon’s becoming a Probation Office proved to be something on which members of both his churches agreed: they did not like it.
“He’s supposed to be our pastor but seems to me he spends too much of his time working for the perlice courts.”
“He shouldn’t be running around trying to help those young vandals, what about us church members and our children?”
Later, when the members discovered that Gordon intended bringing some of these undesirables along to church, they were alarmed and apprehensive. His action brought a storm of protest.
“That’s the limit. Some of those fellows are thieves and violent. We don’t want our young people mixing with that riff-raff.”
“The only way to deal with those kids is to stick them behind bars for awhile.”
“Doesn’t young Moyes know what one bad apple can do to the barrel?”
Gordon had to tread a fine line. Privately he thought that his church members were exhibiting a far from Christian spirit toward the sinners in their midst. It was not until many years later, when he was the father of teen-agers himself, that he fully understood their concern.
As soon as Gordon accepted the responsibility Beverley and he decided that the boys under their care needed somewhere to expend their energies. They invited them to the youth club held in the church hall, encouraging them to join in ball games and gymnastics.
The fellows were exuberant and noisy but only rarely attempted to break the few strict rules that governed their activities.
“No alcohol allowed on church property,” and “Activities must conclude at eleven p m.”
A lot of the youth were unemployed and they would gladly have continued until midnight or beyond—they could have slept-in next day, but the minister and his wife had to be up early to work and study as usual.
Shortly after his appointment Gordon received a notification asking him to prepare a pre-court report on a boy who had been charged with manslaughter. The boy was a fourteen year-old known as `Huskie.’
Huskie towered over Gordon, his physique ably matching his height. Only a face badly scarred with acne spoiled his Tough Guy impression. He wore tight pants and knee-high leather boots—and he worked in the slaughter yards picking up offal.
In the slaughter house dead beasts were strung up by the heels on a continuously moving overhead chain and when the slaughterman slit the beast open the intestines, stomach and lungs fell on the floor. The slaughterman quickly trimmed the offal from the carcass and went on with his job of carving up the beast.
The offal boys sorted out edible parts like the heart, kidneys and liver, and took the intestines and bowels to other places to be cleaned and treated. It was not a pleasant job and the boys ended up stinking and covered in blood.
In the abattoirs activity began at first light and by about 11 o’clock the day’s work was done and the men adjourned to the bar of a local pub and stayed there all day drinking and smoking and yarning.
Huskie went with the older men. He wanted to be as tough as they were. He carried a large boning knife in the side of his boot just as they did and he drank along with them and shared their dirty jokes and bad language.
Near closing time one afternoon he and another fellow at the bar began to argue. They argued loud and long and finally Huskie lost his temper. In drunken fury he whipped the boning knife out of his boot and plunged it into the man’s belly. With a quick upward thrust he slit the man’s body open just as he had watched the slaughtermen do to an animal.
Huskie was charged and Gordon was assigned to visit the boy’s home and find out something about his background. Three times he walked past the given address in Flemington Road before he found the number on a door squeezed in between shops. He ascended a long stairway to an above-shop dwelling.
Huskie’s father proved to be thin, quiet-voiced and neatly dressed. He couldn’t have been more different from Huskie. Gordon introduced himself, explained the reason for his visit, and the man led him into the front room.
Huskie’s father talked non-stop, smoking a cigarette through a long holder. It was obvious that he took great pride in his work, in his home, in his standing in the community, in everything except his son. It didn’t take a genius to work out that this huge hulking son who worked in a slaughter yards, had fallen far short of his father’s ambitions for him.
Gordon quickly realized that father and son living together in that meticulous environment could have no satisfactory relationship. Seated in the neat room with its dainty lace curtains and cushioned lounge chairs, he wondered what assessment he could give the court? Changing either of them would be a superhuman task.
Gordon presented his report and when the court case came up, the magistrate took everything into consideration and bound Huskie over to be of good behaviour for three years. In an amazing show of trust he appointed the young minister as the probation officer to whom the boy must report every week.
Gordon took this as a serious challenge. The magistrate had given him the responsibility of keeping Huskie out of prison for the rest of his life. Could he do it?
The one redeeming feature about the hulking big fourteen-year old was that when he became sober and realized that he had killed a man he was overwhelmed with remorse. So that was where Gordon began.
The first time he met with Huskie they discussed guilt and forgiveness and the plan God has for each life. The boy not only listened, he asked questions. It took years to strengthen their relationship but gradually the big tough teen-ager, so physically mature yet so immature in other ways, began to change.
Part of his rehabilitation included church attendance. Gordon had stipulated that as well as reporting to him three times a week Huskie must attend the Sunday evening church services. It was at one of these services when he was nearly seventeen, that he came forward when Gordon gave the invitation for all who wanted to accept Jesus as their Lord.
With tears streaming down his face Huskie said, “I want Jesus to be my friend so he can make me a different person. He is the sort of mate a guy ought to have.”
The story of Huskie had a happy ending. He was baptized, joined the church and led out in many activities. Despite his lack of formal education he got a job on the Victorian Railways and worked himself up to eventually become a station master. He married a girl from the same church and they established a fine law-abiding family.
Not every one of the hundred or so boys who came under Gordon’s care for periods of one to four years, turned out well, but they all respected him for trying to help them. Jimmy was a prime example.
At thirteen Jimmy was already a convicted car thief. By fifteen he had a list of convictions as long as his arm. He earned good money from one of the major panel-beaters in Mount Alexander Road. When the workmen got a car in for panel-beating they would notify the young thief that they wanted a certain make of car, tell him the model and what they needed—right hand front mudguard, or left hand rear door or whatever else. Jimmy then located the correct type of car, stole it, removed the required part and sold it to the panel- beaters.
Jimmy had been in and out of remand centres and youth training courses—which only served to polish his skills—and the magistrate was at wit’s end what to do with him. Next time Jimmy came before the court the magistrate decided to hand him over to Gordon to see whether exposure to church and Christianity could change him as it had others.
During the time Jimmy was in their care Gordon and Beverley and the church family managed to influence him, but they never really changed his character, only God could do that. He stopped stealing while he was on probation but eventually the thrill of a police chase got the better of him and he slipped back into his old ways.
At the end of the one hundred and four weeks of his probation Gordon congratulated Jimmy for keeping out of trouble for two years and urged him to go straight for the rest of his life. In turn Jimmy gravely thanked Gordon and Beverley for what they had done for him and produced a parting gift, a bulky package wrapped in soiled brown paper and tied with binder twine.
As he unwrapped the unusually shaped parcel Gordon heard the clink of metal. He tore off the paper and his worst fears were realized. Inside were four slightly used, ornamental hub caps for his faithful little Volkswagon.
