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Issue No. 134 | 03 May 2002 |
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The Hijacking of May Day
Interview: Youth Group History: Back To The Future Industrial: On the Street Unions: The New Deal Legal: The Police State Road Women: What Women Want Politics: Street Party International: The Costs of War Review: Songs of Solidarity Satire: Bono Satisfies World Hunger for Preachy Rockstars Poetry: Woomera
The Soapbox The Locker Room Bosswatch Week in Review Tool Shed
 Doctors in the BushM1 Open LetterJulian OnlineMay Day DebacleMothers Day MusingsGreetings From Canada
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Industrial On the Street
*********** Six months ago, trouble erupted on the concrete alleyway outside Woolloomoolo's historic Mathew Talbot Hostel. Neville rushed to the disturbance, pinning a deranged man to the ground while workmates attempted to contain flailing arms and legs. For an hour and a half they struggled as welfare worker, Sam Gooch, rang for police assistance. They are still waiting. It wasn't a typical evening at Matthew Talbot but nor was it unique. The St Vincent de Paul-run hostel, with its 132 beds, 20 for the intoxicated, is the place of last resort for Sydney's homeless male population. It attracts men beset by alchohol, drug and gambling woes along, increasingly, with those tormented by serious mental health issues. Matthew Talbot not only fails to attract the attention of police but also a Federal Government baulking at financing its share of a 6.5 percent wage increase handed down by the IRC. The Vinnies meet the bulk of operating costs but Federal Government, which uses the service to pick up the increasingly slack in its welfare and mental health nets, contributes a fixed percentage of the wage bill. Until now, that is. While the NSW Government will meet its share of the increase won by the Australian Services Union, Federal Treasurer Peter Costello is ducking and diving. He is holding out on a rise that would lift the take-home wage of Gooch, a 27-year-old with an honours degree in psychology, from $450 a week to around $500, after she pays HECS fees. Gooch has worked at the hostel for two and half years. The people to whom she is closest, wonder why? "I love the job and I love the men too," she explains. "I'm looking for an internship but I'm in no hurry. The people I work with here are great but I'm usually so tired and stressed-out when I leave that two bottles of wine seem a better option than sitting down and writing out an application. "In the end, I will have to go because of the financial situation. It's getting to the point where my Dad is going to turn around and say - 'you're a big girl now, it's time you started buying your own groceries. "That's how tight it is and that's the honest to God truth." Gooch used to pick up a couple of overtime shifts in a bid to cover more than her $300 rent but soon became run down. Little wonder. Matthew Talbot's welfare workers have core case loads of 22 clients but that figure is inflated by casual visitors with problems that can't be ignored. Not only does the hostel provide lodgings for men in crisis but it throws open its doors, between 6am and 6pm, to those wanting a shower, a meal, somewhere to wash their clothes or just watch a bit of television. This all-welcome philosophy brings its own problems. When as many as 400 men, down on their luck, queue for a meal you can imagine the disagreements and where they might lead. Only two support workers supervise meals and Gooch concedes it is they, rather than the social workers, who cop most of the aggro - at mealtimes or just manning the front desk. Desperate men know it is the welfare workers who might be able to prise open a door at Centrelink, the Housing Department or a medical centre. This work, though, brings dilemmas on an almost daily basis. Gooch can sit down with a man, desperate to retrieve a life stolen by gambling and drink, and agree on a plan to stave off eviction. Likely as not, she will turn up the next day to find he has cashed in his dole cheque at an all night boozer up the road. Hope and good intentions have disappeared down a slot machine, and it's back to square one. Should she okay another 14 days accommodation, fearing that when push comes to shove, the pokies will win again? Who benefits from our easy access to alcohol, gambling and credit and what responsibilities do they have for picking up at least some of the pieces? How long will she put her own ambitions on hold while friends and family subsidise something the Federal Government doesn't regard as a priority? "That's the real problem," Gooch says. "It is hard to stay motivated to do a good job when you know your work isn't valued. "Honestly, some of these men have more disposable income than us. "What people like John Howard don't seem to understand is that most of the people doing my job are paying HECS. When they're helping keep a place like this going, on low wages, it's ridiculous taking $50 out of their wages every week. "We can make $50 go a long way. We've learned how to do it." If it wasn't for the goodwill of employers, aware of the conditions under which staff go to extra lengths, she says, she would have left long ago. Gooch has a simple challenge for Costello, Howard and anyone else who doubts she deserves to take home $500 a week. "Come down and see for yourself," she says. "We have big people who come and have lunch with the men for a publicity thing but that's not what I mean. "Stick around for a couple of weeks, meet the men and see what a shortage of affordable accommodation means for so many people then tell us what you really think."
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