The Mayor, elegant in his regalia of office, beamed at the attentive gathering. He then slowly drew back the curtain to reveal the timber and brass commemorative plaque. And, standing beside him, Wally Clough stared, fascinated - the discomfort of new suit, collar and tie now forgotten - as he slowly absorbed every word: The Walter Harold Clough...

 

Yes, without doubt, the highlight of his life, his one chocolate-coated bonanza. If the ground opened now and swallowed him, no one could say his presence on earth had been a total failure. More importantly, he thought as he brushed aside an errant tear, here was proof that miracles really could happen. Though Wally sensed the friendly audience was eagerly waiting for him to speak, he was determined to savour all this special moment.

 

By profession, Wally had been a thief. As, before him, had his father, Eddy, uncle, Jim, and grandfather, Harry Clough. All four were cursed with the same box-like head, long, curved nose, massive freckles and a mop of unruly ginger hair. But similarities ended with the physical.

 

It would be reasonable to expect professional know-how to be passed down from generation to generation, culminating in ever-more skilled criminal performances. With the Clough family it was the reverse. Grandfather Harry's transgressions were always on the grand scale. He was an eloquently persuasive "con man" whose specialty was separating elderly retirees from their savings. He'd promote grandiose investment schemes that rarely delivered - in short, he was a white-collar fraudster years ahead of his time. Though Harry's parents had never bothered about educating the young fellow, through assiduous study at the school of hard knocks he had acquired qualifications to ensure a sound living for life.

 

During Harry's long, distinguished criminal career there were only a few occasions - and each the result of fickle fate - when he'd had to confront the courts. Then, if a generous bribe to the constabulary failed, he was able to afford the best legal mouthpiece. In court, Edwin Smithers QC would convincingly portray Harry's fraudulent acts as little worse than Oliver Twist's call for seconds. On the two unfortunate occasions that had led to brief sojourns in Her Majesty's prison, Harry's genius for graft and cajolery soon produced the best-appointed cell, along with ample supplies of luxurious food, liquor and cigarettes.

 

Naturally, it was a cruel disappointment to Harry that his only sons, Eddy and Jim, were not caste in the same mould; and lacked both his enthusiasm and natural cunning. It was their puny performances that had prevented Harry announcing to the criminal fraternity: These are my boys. But, ultimately, his close interest in wagering on racehorses brought home the importance of mating a top stallion with a high-class mare. This conclusion finally forced him to concede that his wife Ethel - whose weekly highlights were gin sessions at the local and Bingo nights at the Community Hall - was, at best, of fourth-class pedigree.

 

Because each conceded a lack of skill or drive to succeed alone, Eddy and Jim had always worked together, as partners. But compared with Harry's classy achievements, their criminal enterprises were mundane, uninspiring - like pilfering firewood from elderly widows; snatching crates of booze stacked outside hotel bottle shops; and loading up materials from building sites in the dead of night. Invariably, they used the same battered Holden ute - a sure give-away during the subsequent police enquiries. And whenever they sold stolen gear to a local fence, they'd be taken for a ride, generally settling for well under the going rate. 'No bloody honour among thieves,' they'd moan later.

 

Predictably, they became regular travellers on the crime merry-go-round: arrest, conviction and gaol. During rare bouts of rational thinking they'd admit a conventional job would have provided a better, and more secure, income. But was that a reasonable career path for a Clough?

 

With such role models, it was inevitable young Wally would also turn to crime. He was shy and hesitant - and his criminal aspirations were even less pretentious than those of father and uncle. Unable to afford a vehicle, Wally confined his professional activities to petty shoplifting and indiscriminate thefts from local street markets. It was a truly miserable existence. And his impecunious state and frequent periods of incarceration meant he could never hold on to a girl friend. Yet, whenever his few remaining friends suggested he might at least sample conventional employment, he'd vigorously decline. Family traditions.

 

Not that prison greatly bothered Wally. After all, it had many obvious advantages: healthy meals, clean clothes, a telly that worked, a gymnasium and, most importantly, the binding friendship of the regulars. In some ways, it was like an exclusive men's club.

 

In the prison workshop the authorities strove to teach Wally a trade. When he showed a real talent for carpentry his parole officer confronted him. 'Wally, it's time you faced facts. As a thief, you're an abject failure. But you're still young. Look, you agree to toss in crime and I'll arrange a good job in a furniture factory.'

 

But Wally had his values. 'Fair crack of the whip!' he snapped. 'How can I give it up? It's me bloody profession.'

 

In the early days, grandfather Harry would take Wally aside and try to pass on some valuable criminal tips. Finally he gave up in disgust. 'As thick as a plank!' Besides, secretly, he wished this pathetic specimen would move to another city - or change his name - lest family honour were further tarnished.

It is well accepted that many who finally achieve a modicum of fame can trace it back to some "pivotal," or even "spiritual," event. And so it was with Wally Clough. Aged thirty-eight, still without wife or children, cooped up in a draughty room in a run-down boarding house, it seemed his dismal passage through the ocean of life was irreversible.

 

Then, one sunny Saturday afternoon, in stepped capricious Fate. At a street market, an Indian trader observed Wally "pocket" seven gaudy wristwatches from his stall, before hurrying off. Though the Indian's acquisition of the watches was itself of dubious legitimacy, he could not permit such blatant criminal conduct. So he set off in pursuit of Wally, yelling, 'Stop, thief ... stop him!'

 

Two uniformed police officers were slowly walking their beat nearby when the anguished cries reached their ears. They felt obligated to join in the chase, though with neither the speed nor enthusiasm of the Indian. But Wally was fleet of foot. He cut a swath through shoppers, prams, market stalls, pie carts and fortune-tellers as he headed for the wharves, where he knew of a hiding place. When he reached the steps leading to a platform suspended beneath the wharf, he had a handy break on his pursuers. There he would hide until nightfall. Only a few more paces.

 

But as he stepped onto the slimy platform Wally lost balance and slipped into the murky harbour. The oily waters were cold and choppy; and Wally could barely swim. Then Lady Luck smiled on him - he managed to grasp a rope dangling from a pylon. But the tide was strong and the rope was weak and, as he clung desperately to it, he could see strands gradually breaking.

 

'Oh please, God,' he cried, 'help me!' This was a surprising plea, because Wally hadn't given any Deity a thought in years. Further, he'd never done a single good deed that might justify intervention from above. Nevertheless, he instantly made his pact: 'Lord, I know I've been a failure. And a regular sinner. But, please, give me just one chance - and I promise to be your loyal servant for ever.'

 

Then, without waiting for a heavenly answer, even a minute sign, he shouted, 'Help, I'm here ... help,' just in time for the overweight policeman, about to abandon the chase, to hear the call and come to his rescue.

 

Wally was most impressed. Strike one to the Lord. Then the Indian trader, finally realising he might also have to face the wrath of the law over his "ownership" of the watches, declined to give a statement or press charges. Strike two. Wally waited only ten days for the miraculous strike three - shared first prize in Cross Lotto, $760,000. Why hadn't he appreciated the Lord's magical powers years earlier?

 

Wally invested his funds prudently while he pondered his future. Within a remarkably short time, numerous graceful young women came to realise Wally was attractive, intelligent, humorous and charming. So he bought a beautiful mansion before carefully selecting a hot little number, Lucy, to be his bride. Then, conscious of his solemn pact, he began to contemplate what good deeds he might perform. He did not have to wait long for an answer. He was soon lecturing young lads from the less affluent areas on the futility of crime as a career option.

 

Wally was an instant star. 'You're looking at a foolish man, one who's squandered many years of his God-given life on criminal activities,' he'd preach. 'And spent long periods in squalid gaols. Endured the unspeakable horrors of a shared cell. Been deprived of health-giving air and sunshine. And ignored by all the fair young ladies. Also, of course, childless - for one has no right to bring children into this troublesome world unless constantly around to nurture them. So, I beg you to believe me: there's no substitute for the joys of a Godly existence ... ' The words flowed freely to rapt audiences. He was disappointed each time his session had to end. And, as his fame spread, so did the demand for his services. School groups, youth clubs, soccer teams, reformatories - the list seemed endless.

 

Wally had never known such contentment. A wonderful house, a devoted wife, a child on the way and the immense satisfaction that flowed from his frank and soulful talks. Yet, somehow, it wasn't enough. His thoughts kept returning to his near-drowning experience - and to his solemn undertaking. Finally a solution flashed at him. He still had nearly $300,000 in short-term investments. He would use most of this to build a fitness centre for underprivileged youth - gymnasium, basketball and squash courts, swimming pool and sauna. Lucy protested tearfully: 'Wally, we'll have nothing left to live on! How will my poor baby and I survive?'  He steeled himself to ignore such selfish pleas.

 

The project was soon under way. And when word spread that a former crim was prepared to give most of his savings, the pledges and donations began to pour in. By the time of the official opening all but $80,000 of the total cost was in hand. Wally's aim was to discharge that balance.

 

So, not surprisingly, the foyer was packed for this unveiling of the plaque to commemorate the Walter Harold Clough Youth Fitness Centre. After the Mayor lauded the remarkable drive and generosity of the principal benefactor, Wally began his address:

 

'Your Worship the Mayor, councillors and concerned citizens, I thank you all for attending on this memorable occasion - certainly the proudest moment of my life. This magnificent Centre will not only entertain our youngsters but, I'm confident, also divert them from the miserable path of crime.' He peered at his audience and was relieved to finally locate Harry, Eddy and Jim - despite their attempts to hide at the rear. Wally's traitorous conduct had both amazed and appalled them and they had resolved to ostracise him. But, as Wally had hoped, curiosity compelled them to attend this opening - in response to the official invitations he had sent them.

 

Now an accomplished orator, Wally's words flowed enchantingly. Finally to the fund raising: 'As you know, another $80,000 is needed to pay for this marvellous complex. So I ask all those who have not yet contributed to search their souls - and then donate generously. My grandfather Harry, father Eddy and uncle Jim Clough are all here. They, too, are concerned about the problems of today's youth. To start the ball rolling, I happily announce that each has pledged $1,000.' Deafening applause. Red faces and stunned disbelief from his three family members. But it did the trick and over $30,000 was soon promised.

 

For several months Wally basked in the after-glow of his good deeds. But then the harshness of life began to intrude. Alfred, the new arrival, became a powerful nighttime bawler. And Lucy turned into a constant whinger and nagger. Wally had to ration his dwindling savings because, despite the continued demand for his lectures to the young, he was unable to find paid employment.

 

That Christmas, senior member Harry, then eighty-two, called a special meeting of the male members of his clan. 'Frankly,' he began, 'I've reached retiring age. The pressures of my profession have finally taken their toll. Unfortunately, my superannuation bin is somewhat depleted, so I've planned a grand finale. At a rough estimate, it could earn about a million - and I'm prepared to split four ways.' Three sets of eyebrows shot up at this generous proposal.

 

The scheme was simple. A sporting quiz, entry fee $30. Each of the first ten sets of correct entries pulled from the barrel would win an around-the-world trip for two - first class flights, accommodation at top hotels in twelve countries, with chauffeured side excursions. Total value of a winning prize - $40,000.

 

'But,' Wally gasped, 'that means we'd have to outlay $400,000 just to secure the packages!'

 

'Ah, ye of little imagination,' Harry snapped. 'Only $40,000. Of course, we'll organise swags of photographs and publicity for the one genuine winner. As to the other nine - just fictitious names and addresses.'

 

Wally had a major struggle with his conscience. But his life was now very difficult. Unless he could somehow placate Lucy, he feared she would depart with Alfred. Then there was the $42,000 still owed to the bank on the Fitness Centre - he was desperate to pay that off. Besides, the entrants would sacrifice only $30! Lord, he'd behaved perfectly for so long ... and he would again, for evermore, once this last venture was over.

 

In his inimitable way Harry planned everything legally and expertly. All four worked diligently and the money rolled in to the approved trust account. The delicate part of the operation would be drawing the "winning" entries from the barrel - in full public view - one genuine and nine false. How Harry engineered the last minute swap of the barrel containing only bogus "entries" for the genuine barrel was sheer magic.

 

And just how Harry persuaded the deputy mayor to place his hand in the barrel whilst already holding a "genuine" entry was never revealed to the others - though later they learned the lucky winner happened to be a second cousin of the deputy mayor. In his impeccable manner, Harry also organised television interviews and front-page pictures of this "genuine" winner and his ecstatic partner.

 

The scam was so successful, so simple, Harry even toyed with going to the well one more time. But Wally's decision was firm and immediate - no more crime. And Eric and Jim, who had never imagined, let alone handled, such riches also announced their retirement.

 

Peace and harmony graced the Clough clan for several months. Then a complaint to the Consumer Affairs Department, an investigation, and the unmasking of the fraud. This time Harry's expensive barrister was glaringly ineffectual.

 

Still, on the positive side, Harry is finally able to rejoice. The fame of the Clough clan has now been secured for posterity with an impressive entry in the Guinness Book of Records: Three generations of the same family, incarcerated in the same prison, in adjoining cells, serving substantial sentences for the very same crime.