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Epilogue |
Page 8
Watson was born in Brisbane, but earned his stripes creating the long-running British ITV series 'Crossroads'. Yet it was back home that his amazing career blossomed as the man behind the avalanche of soaps emanating from the Sydney-based Grundy Organization in the Seventies and Eighties.
The Grundy Organization is a success story unparalleled Down Under. Adelaide-born Reg Grundy, 66, is chairman of a mega-bucks global empire which has established itself as a top-flight programme-maker of drama and game shows even in the cut-throat world of Hollywood. Grundy, married to actress Joy Chambers, spends much of his time in Bermuda, but is in LA often enough to make sure his office there is up to speed with the main operations in Sydney. There, Reg Watson, is something of a legend. He was the creative force behind the drama shows 'The Restless Years' (1977), 'Case for the Defence' (1977), 'King's Men' (1978). And, of course, 'Neighbours' which followed 'Prisoner' (1979).
'Within These Walls' was a British TV series about a women's prison near London. Googie Withers, a topline veteran actress married to Australian film and TV pioneer actor-producer, John McCallum, presided as the maternal superintendent. It was quite successful and had reasonable exposure around the world. Yet Reg Watson felt it had a major weakness. 'Within These Walls' concentrated on the life of the people who ran the jail . 'There's more interest in the prisoners. They're the crux of a prison series. They provide more varied stories, gutsier situations.' So, while working away on numerous Grundy projects, Watson kept the women's prison show in the back of his mind until the O-TEN network said it was looking for a hard-hitting contemporary series to propel it back into the forefront of local drama - something it had not enjoyed since the halcyon days of the controversial 'Number 96' (1972-76) which took the network from bottom of the heap to top dog ahead of the rival Nine and Seven Networks.
'Number 96's mixture of sex and sin - with outrageous liaisons (Oz TV's first
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homosexual lovers), the blatant sexual assets of blonde Abigail, the gossiping tenants of the building and a ground-floor delicatessen that seemed to trap even the wariest of passers-by - guaranteed a ratings bonanza and unprecedented national adulation for its string of stars. 'Number 96' had rewritten the history book for Australian home-spun drama and O-TEN desperately wanted to savour again the long-lost taste of success. The time was ripe for the Grundy Organization and Reg Waitron's next foray into Oz drama.
Reg Grundy and lan Holmes (later president of Grundy's) had been discussing the possible success of a women's prison drama since 1977. With 1979 as 'The Year of the Woman', they felt a network should be interested in a strong, contemporary women's drama.
Added impetus came from the extensive media coverage and public awareness at the time of prison issues and, in particular, the status of women inmates in the two main States of New South Wales and Victoria. There had been a riot of gigantic proportions in the rural New South Wales complex, Bathurst Gaol; the highly scrutinised Nagle Royal Commission into N.S.W. prisons in 1976 and 1977; the founding of Women Behind Bars in 1975; and a successful and sustained public campaign for the release of Australia's longest-serving female prisoner, Sandra Willson, who served eighteen years for murder and would become an integral part of the making of the 'Prisoner' series. So, the time for a women's prison drama was right and Grundy's seized the opportunity with both hands.
Reg Grundy is renowned as 'a great ideas man who makes big and quick decisions on gut reaction' - an attribute which has often paid off handsomely for the globe-trotting mogul; Ian Holmes, former boss at Channel Ten (Sydney), where he was instrumental in getting 'Number 96' on air, is held in high esteem for his managerial and 'keeping in touch with viewers' prowess; Watson's record speaks for itself. So the three chiefs at Grundy's were more than quietly confident that their prison show would be an audience-grabber.
The Grundy's brains trust also decided it would only seek out actresses who were not major names or currently in a TV series. This would give the ambitious show a fresh look and create new stars. It would be 'Number 96' all over again!
When they finally gave Watson the go-ahead for development, the eager creator-writer faced nearly a year of research, planning and discussions with writers, key production staff and people in and out of the prison system - including 'the prisoner' Sandra Willson.
Watson freely admits he got more than he bargained for. 'I changed my outlook on prisons and prisoners. The whole thing became a tremendous learning experience.' The researchers and Watson were not only documenting day-to-day life in a women's prison, but looking for inspirations to create characters, and checking official files for true stories to dramatise. 'We had always planned to use true-life events for the main story lines,' said Watson as the pilot episode took shape on his wordprocessor.
Grundy's were dealing with the Corrective Services Department in New South
Page 10
Wales and the Victorian Prisons Department in Melbourne, where the series would be taped at the O-TEN Network station in suburban Nunawading. Scores of prisoners, warders, jail bosses and penal reform advocates were interviewed and quizzed over the year of research and planning by the fact-gathering team headed by Peta Letchford.
'There was a need, an obligation, to do it properly. We couldn't just go in and make some fairy-floss story about girls in a weekend camp. This was to be close to the real thing, warts and all. It had a big effect on us,' one of Letchford's team recalled from the early months of jail rounds. 'I had plenty of sleepless nights and some days I dreaded going near the prisons. We heard absolutely horrendous stories from the women prisoners, but were told it was far worse with the men elsewhere.'
It doesn't take much research to learn that, like homosexuality in male
prisons, lesbianism is rampant in women's jails. It was obvious to
Letchford and her team that
| PRISONER FILE |
| Name: Judy Bryant
Actress: Betty Bobbitt |
| Lovable lesbian Judy Bryant was a
firm favourite with viewers. Actress Betty Bobbitt revealed, 'I got so
much mail. At first the letters were from the gay community.
Then as Judy changed to show more motherly values, I got letters from all
sorts of people who liked her sympathetic nature, including one little
girl who asked me to adopt her.'
Judy Bryant is the mainstay of the halfway house outside Wentworth. Based on the experience of Sandra Willson and her halfway house in the Sydney suburb of Enmore, it showed how ex-prisoners could adjust gradually to life beyond bars. 'Meeting Sandra was an incredible experience,' said Betty. 'Any encouragement we can give prisoners by showing the halfway house will be well worthwhile. Betty and 'Prisoner' pals Colette Mann and Jane Clifton started singing together to while away the waiting time between shooting and eventually formed a trio, the Mini-Busettes, touring clubs and variety shows. |
they couldn't pretend it didn't exist or was only practised in dark corners. 'There's sex all over the jails, and we knew that it would be a vital part of the make-up in most of the ruthless characters we would be introducing to viewers in "Prisoner" ' another researcher says. 'Reg (Watson) said we weren't to make major issues about sex, but treat it as part of the routine for inmates and, in some cases, the jail bosses. We were committed to realism, the nitty-gritty the sex is there, lesbians are there, whatever you can imagine is there. Prisoners get bored and it's either sex or drugs as a diversion - and often both. You want the bottom line on this? Jails are a smorgasbord of sex. "Line up and get it" we were told.'
Initially, the researchers and writers looked at the two main interstate women's jails - Fairlea (Melbourne) and Mulawa (Sydney). But later cast members visited the infamous Pentridge Jail, in the Melbourne suburb of Coburg, scene of the country's last judicial hanging (Ronald Ryan, in 1963). Cop killer William John O'Meally was under sentence of death there for six years from 1952 before his sentence was commuted to life imprisonment, and he was the last inmate to be whipped with the hideous cat-o'-nine-tails (1958).
Pentridge's H Division houses some of the toughest and worst prisoners, incarcerated under constant supervision and watched by elite, specially-trained guards. Hi-tech video and surveillance equipment watch the inmates' every move. It is a hell-hole for the worst of convicts. Appropriately, 'H' stands for Hell. (Later, 'Prisoner' would be given an added title overseas - 'Cell Block H').
Both Reg Grundy and lan Holmes had insisted Watson ensure each prisoner's background was explained in the early stages and, where it helped the flow or spiced up proceedings, the crime itself was shown. The series would also show how imprisonment affected the families and friends of the inmates - so the story and cameras could go out of Wentworth Detention Centre, providing respite from the confines of the cells. 'There's good and bad with the inmates and the jailers,' said Watson in one of his earliest interviews for 'Prisoner'. 'We'll show the people who wait for the prisoners, or live with the jailers. We'll show both sides of the coin. It's not just being realistic. It's a matter of being fair. So, we'll go outside Wentworth when necessary. After all, there is life beyond jail.'
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Epilogue |