The unlikely friendships that survived the Dismissal

“Ladies and gentlemen, we can say, ‘God save the Queen,’” the newly deposed Whitlam boomed, “For nothing will save the viceroy.”

Even half a century later, it remains among the most memorable lines in Australian political history.

But Whitlam’s great indictment was not over yet.

Opposition leader Malcolm Fraser, appointed as the new interim prime minister by Governor-General Sir John Kerr, declared that he “will undoubtedly go down in Australian history as Kerr’s dog from Remembrance Day 1975”.

He appealed to the crowd to “maintain your anger and enthusiasm.”

These loaded words circulated across Australia’s radio stations, inflaming passions across the country, and television channels repeatedly broadcast the vision in full color that had been unveiled only months before.

As Australians digested the news and took sides, friendships would become strained and soured, households would become verbal battlefields and the streets of major cities would be rocked by violent protests.

Within a month, voters made their decision.

It turned out that most of them had rejected Whitlam’s advice to maintain their enthusiasm for a government that was virtually paralysed, wracked by scandal in its final months.

Fraser and his Coalition won the 13 December elections with an overwhelming majority.

Killen, like many young Australians, voted Labor in 1972 (“can anyone vote for Billy McMahon?” he says) and still approves of the Whitlam government’s stormy legislative program that transformed Australia.

But he was no ordinary bystander at the dismissal.

Jim Killen, whose father was one of the most prominent figures in the Liberal Party, had been an MP since 1955.

After the excitement of the day had calmed down, Diana had dinner with her father and found him sullen.

Being committed to the Westminster system of government, he was uncomfortable with the governor general dismissing a government using “reserve powers” not included in the Constitution.

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A gifted orator, a noted wit, and a lawyer known to fascinate juries and judges, the elder Killen was also as strong as a mighty bull. He began his working career after running away from school to become a tramp in the Queensland outback. His father died when Killen was just two years old, and he was determined to send money to help his mother, who ran a boarding house in Brisbane.

He joined the RAAF during the Second World War and grew the “air force” mustache that would distinguish him for the rest of his life.

Killen’s abilities as a young MP were overlooked by prime minister Bob Menzies, although Killen won the Queensland seat of Moreton in the 1961 federal election and saved the Menzies government from defeat.

Killen made up a story in which Menzies congratulated him with the words “Killen, you are amazing”, even though Menzies had never contacted him.

There was no front row seat, but legend has it that the irrepressible Killen used his keen sense of the absurd to set things right when he visited Menzies in hospital years later.

“You know, Killen, there was a time when I seriously doubted your judgment,” Menzies told him.

“What an extraordinary coincidence,” Killen replied.

The impeachment proved Killen’s path to the cabinet. Fraser made him defense minister and he remained in the powerful job for the next 6½ years.

Did Whitlam treat him with the same arrogant disdain he displayed towards a leading member of the political team led by “Kerr’s dog”?

Not a little bit.

Whitlam certainly retained his anger at John Kerr. He never spoke to her again, retaining his profound disdain for print news.

After Kerr became a drunken fool at the 1977 Melbourne Cup, Whitlam personified him in his book. The Truth of the Matter As a figure resembling Caligula, he “descends from the imperial lodge and shouts joyful words to its owner, the enthralled crowd and a million spectators” [who] He may have thought that the horse would make a better proconsul.”

But Whitlam could not afford to sideline those he respected in the Coalition ranks, including Killen.

There was a mutual respect that went back years. Whitlam and Killen exchanged scribbled notes in parliament, and Whitlam sent postcards to Killen from every country he visited. These correspondences are currently in the National Library.

Diana Killen confirms that the friendship became so solid that Whitlam and his father made a pact: one would sing the praises of the other, depending on who died first. And so Gough Whitlam delivered this message: unforgettable praise for Sir James Killen at the gothic St John’s Cathedral in Brisbane in January 2007.

For many of us accustomed to the insularity and polarization that has marked politics in the 21st century, it may be difficult to understand that cross-party friendships ran deep between many of the most formidable players in parliament in the second half of the last century.

In June 1951, at a large Jubilee ball held in the King’s Hall of the old parliament building, Menzies wept and told everyone to go home when he learned of the death of Labour’s Ben Chifley.

The two leaders fought bitter election battles in 1946, 1949 and 1951, but maintained a special friendship, cheerfully swapping trashy mystery novels, some of which remained at Chifley’s former home in Bathurst, according to Campbell Rhodes of the Museum of Australian Democracy, who these days resides in the old parliament house.

Killen maintained some of the famous cross-party friendships, particularly with fellow Queenslanders, prankster and Labor jokester Fred Daly.

“Oh yes, Fred Daly is one of my closest friends in the world, and Gough Whitlam,” Killen told an interviewer for an oral history project in 1993. “And as far as I can remember, no two people ever insulted each other or tried to insult each other more than Daly and I.”

After Labor won government in 1972, Daly felt that most new MPs had never seen a real war of words before. He told Killen that they should stage the first one. Daly said: “I’m going to make a speech and I’m going to squeeze it into you, and you can follow me. You can do or say whatever you want.”

“So this happened, and the guy, one of his colleagues, went up to Fred and said: ‘Wow, Killen is so-and-so with bad intentions, right?’” Killen recalled. “Daly said: ‘Oh yeah, he’s worse than that. You should see him when he’s really angry.’

“And this guy… he couldn’t believe the look on his face when he saw the two of us going out to dinner together.”

When Whitlam and Fraser finally relented, many Australians couldn’t believe it either. we became friends.

From the 1980s until Whitlam’s death in 2014, they met to schmooze wherever appropriate and staged public demonstrations together against the threat of foreign ownership of the Fairfax media empire.

Fraser said he was never offended by being called Kerr’s dog because it was “just politics”.

When the old parliament house was closed in 1988, John Howard and Bob Hawke linked arms at a late-night party and – glory be to God – sang the union anthem. Solidarity Forever.

Years later, after a luncheon where two former leaders of the National Press Club sat on stage together, reminisced and shook hands, I asked them if the story was true.

Yes, these old enemies were giggling and arguing over who had the better singing voice.

• The 50th anniversary of impeachment will be marked with an all-day panel discussion and exhibition at the Australian Museum of Democracy (Old Parliament House) on 11 November. Diana Killen will be among a host of speakers including current Governor-General Sam Mostyn and former prime ministers John Howard and Paul Keating. Free tours of the Old Parliament House will be offered. Among those who will discuss personal memories of being in the building during the events of 11 November 1975 will be political commentator, author and Old Parliament House board member Niki Savva. Viewers across the country and around the world can watch the events online (see Australian Museum of Democracy website), while visitors to the museum can watch them on multiple live screens in the Old Parliament House.