A celebration of the life of Kenneth William Gooding (1941-2024)

Hello friends. My name is Ross and I’m an alcoholic
Jesus, for a second, I thought I was speaking at my local AA meeting, and not at Ken’s favourite Sydney pub, The Merton. I’m so nervous, I nearly said The Merkin! For those who don’t know, a merkin is artificial pubic hair hand tied to skin-coloured lace or netting. They are sometimes still used by sex workers and models, including my late wife Lyndal Moor when she was Australian model of the year in 1969 and 1970.

Let’s start again: Hello friends. For those who don’t know me, my name’s Ross Fitzgerald.

On the evening of Thursday September 5, my oldest friend, Ken Gooding, died of cancer at home in the Sydney suburb of Rozelle – only a minute away from this pub. At his side, were his daughter Nicole, and his devoted second wife Iliana. They were married on November 6 2021, Ken’s 80th birthday.

Ken Gooding and I grew up close to each other in the Melbourne suburb of East Brighton – he in Elizabeth Street, me at 41 Charles Street. In the 75 years we knew each other, Ken and I never had an argument. This was even the case when, during the years that I was drinking alcoholically, I’d often arrive at his home in the Melbourne suburb of Elwood at three or four in the morning, as pissed as a fart.

If I remember correctly, I even appeared there at the night of Ken’s wedding day, as drunk as a skunk, sobbing about some broken-hearted love affair. Unsurprisingly, Ken’s first wife Elizabeth, who is here today, may not have been among my greatest admirers!

Especially when I began studying history, politics and economics at Monash University in the 1960s, Ken was my intellectual inspiration. He had preceded me at Gardenvale Central School and Melbourne Boys High School. But because parents often blame others for the wayward ways of their children, my mother Edna and especially my father Bill, who had captained Collingwood seconds in the Victorian Football League, would complain: “If it wasn’t for that dreadful Ken Gooding down the road, our beautiful boy Ross wouldn’t have gone off the rails!”
Yet, as I explain in my two memoirs My Name is Ross: An Alcoholic’s Journey and Fifty Years Sober, it was Ken who was instrumental in getting me back to Alcoholics Anonymous in Melbourne and help me on the path to recovery. This was despite the fact that Ken, who liked a beer on a hot day, didn’t have a drinking problem himself.

Ever since my late wife and friend of 45 years, Lyndal Moor, moved back to Sydney in 2001, Ken and I celebrated brunch in a nearby Timorese cafe, almost every Sunday. It was only five months ago that for the very first time the energetic Ken said “I don’t feel well.”
According to the Hindu holy book, The Mahabharata, “Death strikes every day, but we so often live as though we were immortal.” A week later, Ken was diagnosed with incurable brain cancer.

Darling Lyndal and our only child Emerald both loved Ken to bits. Shortly before Lyndal died of cancer in January 2020, I vividly remember during what was to be the last meal we shared at our Redfern terrace “Greystoke”, Lyndal, Ken & I were discussing what makes a true champion. Out of the blue, Ken quoted the American boxer Jack Dempsey, who from 1919 to 1926 had been the undisputed heavyweight champion of the world.
Dempsey, who dropped out of school after 8th grade said, “ A champion is someone who gets up when he can’t.” Out of the blue, Ken quoted the American boxer Jack Dempsey, who from 1919 to 1926 had been the undisputed heavyweight champion of the world.
Dempsey, who dropped out of school after 8th grade said, “ A champion is someone who gets up when he can’t.”
Unlike me, Ken rarely complained, and until the very end never spoke about illness. Of the many stories about Lyndal and me that made Ken laugh, this is one that he found particularly amusing. A year into our marriage I whimpered to Lyndal, “I don’t feel very well.” She responded, “Darling, the pyramids were built by people who didn’t feel very well.”

Among the myriad of things that I miss most about Ken are his laughter, his unfailing helpfulness, and most of all his loyalty. My dearest and oldest friend, Kenneth William Gooding, will be deeply missed.

Ross Fitzgerald AM is Emeritus Professor of History & Politics at Griffith University. He is the author or co-author of forty-five books.