It was an ordinary Tuesday morning in suburban Melbourne except that a man was going
to be hanged at eight am. Even as I slowly got ready for work, the local radio station kept
announcing that “no stay of execution has occurred and Premier Bolte has not intervened
in any way.”
My Mum was terribly upset and seemingly, once a minute, said “Surely he’s going to stop
it. He has to stop it, doesn’t he?” It wasn’t a question. It was an emotional plea. The whole
of Melbourne seemed to be growing quieter as the time crawled closer.
The entire State of Victoria was holding its breath. One minute to eight. Still no stay of
execution. I was an immature twenty four year old. Naîve is an appropriate word. I knew
little about the world of politics and law but the previous months of bitter fighting in the
parliament and the press had disturbed everyone. The existing doubt with the guilty verdict
added to the public outrage. All I could think about was how a man would feel at this
minute sitting in his cell waiting.
The radio news at eight am was normal but then
just as it was finishing there was a short silence
and “stand by for an announcement... that Ronald
Ryan has been hanged and has been officially
declared dead.” Mum and Dad hugged each other
in the kitchen with tears in their eyes in front of us
six kids. My Dad never ever swore but he couldn’t
help but say “the dirty bastards. l knew they
wouldn’t stop it.”
Throughout that year I had been working as a
media planner/buyer in an advertising agency. I
really didn’t know what I was doing but the
advertisers seemed happy enough with their
campaign results. One of the few strategies I
employed regularly was to use regional TV stations on a more weighted basis than their
population really required. Wollongong and Newcastle markets, for example, had only one
local channel each so they were always included in any schedules I planned. Christmas
was approaching in 1966 when a carton of wine was delivered by the Newcastle TV sales
manager as a “thank you”. Penfold Hunter Valley red and whites, six of each. On each
bottle there was an additional label ‘With Compliments of NBN3” and underneath this in
bold type was my name, all nicely done. A beautiful gift but at this time I rarely drank and I
certainly had no appreciation of wine of any kind, particularly quality wine like this. So l
occasionally gave them away as gifts until there were none left. A local mechanic who did
a great job servicing my Mini Sports 850 received one of the reds.
My annual holidays came and went and my long surfing trip was over as well. “How was
the bottle of wine?” I asked the mechanic as I booked the Mini in again. ‘Well, l hope you
don’t mind but you won’t believe what happened,” he says, “l got really crook and couldn’t
get out of bed so l had to get the Doc in for two home visits. The Doc sees the bottle of
wine in the lounge room and I hope this doesn’t upset you, but l gave it to him after he
asked where it came from. He really knew his wines, no kidding. So it turns out he is one
of the Pentridge Prison doctors and he was called in to check on Ronald Ryan the night
before the execution. The Doc put your bottle of wine in his bag as he is leaving home
then goes in to the death row cell. Ryan was having his last dinner. Doc opens the bottle
and they each have a glass. Apparently Ryan was very listless but in good spirits. He
didn’t finish his food but he had an extra half glass of wine and the Doc did too.”
I stood there dumbly looking at the mechanic in disbelief, trying to work out if he was
pulling my leg. Could he have made up such a story? The Doc had told him all the details.
“My” bottle of wine was the last drink Ryan ever enjoyed. No one has been executed in
Victoria since this hanging and the death penalty has been repealed.
Just before Christmas in 2005 in Singapore a twenty five year old man was executed for
drug smuggling. Nguyen Van was also hanged for his crime. These incidents were years
apart but I still wonder to this day if Van had been allowed a glass of Australian wine on
his last night.
Whenever I have told friends this story about my bottle of red from NBN3, they always say
you should write all that down. So now, approximately forty years, later I’ve done just that.
John A Wilson, May 2007
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