Selwyn Parker, The Sydney Morning Herald, December 11, 1975, p. 7.
Sinclair Hill, star NSW Senate candidate for the fledgling Workers Party, is in from the country for a fund-raising barbecue at a supporter’s house in Lugarno. In deference to the occasion the candidate wears a tie, but it’s so loose that the knot hangs somewhere near his third shirt button.
Even among the babble and chatter of guests, most of whom are drinking champagne cocktails, Sinclair Hill’s voice is highly audible. He emerges from the crowd on the courtyard and greets you. His handshake is quite hurtful, a reminder that it’s the same grip which has made him, even at the age of 41, Australia’s top polo player.
One of Hill’s polo-playing acquaintances, the South Australian grazier Hugh MacLachlan, told me earlier that he approached everything “with tremendous enthusiasm.” (After announcing his candidature for the Workers Party, he had rung MacLachlan seeking a $5,000 donation.) Certainly the candidate is evangelical about the Workers Party.
While expounding the party’s virtues, he punctuates his conversation by punching his fist into the palm of his hand, or by chopping the air karate-style. “It’s something I’ve been looking for all my life,” he said.
Two weeks ago Mark Tier, the party’s national campaign organiser, gave Sinclair Hill the task of covering all of NSW’s country electorates. Where has he gone so far?
“Right, are you ready?” he says. And he reels off the places his small campaign team has visited, flying in Sinclair Hill’s four-seater with the candidate himself at the controls, allegedly playing music as he rhythmically swerves through the air pockets.
So far the team (comprising Sinclair Hill, a secretary and a shearer) has visited places like Moree, Tamworth, Inverell, Singleton, Taree, Port Macquarie, Grafton, Casino, Armidale, etc. The next morning the team clambered back aboard the four-seater at 7 am and flew to Orange.
Sinclair Hill is no intellectual. Most of what he says about the Workers Party sounds like a re-hash of the party platform. Having suffered from reading and writing difficulties since childhood, he hardly ever reads books. But, according to Mark Tier, the candidate’s hard handshake, boyish enthusiasm and big polo-playing reputation go over well in the country.
For Sinclair Hill the Workers Party has simple, neat solutions for what others may regard as complex problems. (The party’s major slogan is: “Less tax, Less government. More freedom.”) But it has struck a chord in Sinclair Hill who believes in success through hard work. (In his younger polo-playing days he spent endless hours practising the swing, attaining such a degree of skill, according to other players, that he “put Australia back on the map in polo.” Hugh MacLachlan said: “He would always throw tremendous energy into anything he believed in.”)
Governmental hand-outs, even superphosphate subsidies, are degrading, Sinclair Hill says. They are part of what he calls “the socialist quagmire.” The Liberal National Country Party coalition is responsible for creating the quagmire, as well as Labor. Although he used to vote Country Party (“The only thing a farmer could do was vote Country Party”), he now calls the coalition “rabble” and accuses them of being afflicted, like Labor, with the hand-out mentality.
“We’ve got a big-Daddy government. If you got kids and if you give them too much, what they want, they are going to be ruined when they hit Main Street.”
The Workers Party would allow Australia to stand on its feet again. (Among other things, the party would abolish Medibank, all tariffs and subsidies and the Department of the Media, eliminate Public Service expenditure by 5 per cent. Inflation would also be abolished within three years.)
Could the Workers Party really abolish inflation? “Bloody oath,” says Sinclair Hill, smacking his fist into his palm. “Australia has the capacity to be the richest, greatest country in the world. At the moment we are a global joke.”
The Workers Party is also against tax (“Taxation is theft”). “See this,” says Hill, taking a champagne cocktail from Suzie O’Sullivan, an advertising executive who number three on the party’s senate ticket. “How much tax is in that? Or take this (a packet of cigarettes). Think of how much tax is in that. We’re going to vote against any taxation increase.”
Apart from cutting the overtime of public servants, Sinclair Hill wants them to rediscover a pleasure in work. “I want them to get a thrill out of life. When they go home each night, I want them to feel they have achieved something.”
We had been taking for 45 minutes, sitting on a stone wall overlooking the Georges River. Most of the guests had left the courtyard and gone inside to eat. It is a magnificent house. Roughly the size of a small hotel with copper-roofed turrets, it is owned by a part member, John Holt, a veterinary surgeon who runs two hospitals.
Although Sinclair Hill constantly claims to be “just a farmer,” he is perfectly at home in a cocktail setting, having once entertained the Duke of Edinburgh at his family’s 150,000-acre property at Willow Tree, near Quirindi in central NSW, and played polo with England’s finest.
Before he goes inside to deliver a speech to the guests, he takes his tie and says: “This what’s happening to England’s aristocracy.” With an impish grin he slowly pulls up the knot until it’s tight around his neck.