She Walks the Line by Ray Clift Page A

an official-looking document into Martin’s hands and hopped away. I guessed he’d brought the media scrum along with him. I read the documents, which said that an Yvonne Streeter claimed that Martin was the father of her daughter – a love child from an encounter of quick lust in Sydney when Martin was supposed to be there on R&R leave in 1968. It was crap on two counts. Martin was in hospital in Vietnam and of course his medical injuries precluded any chance of fatherhood. But we didn’t say anything at that time. No point raking over coals until we had a proper chance away from the tabloids.
    Nevertheless, they had a field day with screaming headlines about love children, and me of course. Martin was hung out to dry, convicted in their eyes and probably in the minds of those who read the gossip columns here and in the USA, where it hit in a flash.
    The same journo with her crew were camped outside overnight. We just retreated and ignored the door bell until a friendly motel manager dressed us in his mother’s clothes. We fled, jumping over the back fence. Martin fell off the high heels. It was so ridiculous that I had to laugh as I tried to free his foot from a pothole. Bad idea, because a second camera crew came around the corner and filmed us dashing back inside again. The headlines the next day screamed, ‘Suzie and Martin are cross-dressers’.
    Apart from getting a helicopter to rescue us, all we could do was wait for our lawyer, who was faxing the USA for medical records and hospital dates. We watched our crazy Keystone Kops moments on the TV, with the manager and staff all guffawing at how stupid we looked.
    Later on we walked around the streets and encountered fans who didn’t hold back. One bailed us up and said, ‘Don’t worry. My grandfather’s a cross-dresser and I have a creepy uncle who’s produced three love children.’
    It finally came to an end once our lawyer served a summons on the original TV station with attachments of the faxes and the disclosures. Our lawyer came with us to a rival TV station, where our innocence was spelt out. Martin didn’t hold back his dry humour and had the TV reporter cackling.
    She asked if he was there in Sydney on that day in 1968.
    â€˜In hospital with a wound. Back in ’Nam. There for a few months.’ He showed her the date, which was held up for the viewers.
    â€˜I believe you received a Silver Star after the battle?’
    Again he just smiled in answer and produced it and held it up.
    â€˜You’re a staffer at the White House?’
    â€˜Yes.’ Martin knew he was on safe ground.
    â€˜Suzie Smith, the famous Australian country and western star, is your wife?’
    He smiled again and held up his ring finger with the USMC on top for the eyes of the viewers.
    â€˜What about the cross-dressing episode?’
    He explained at length how the kind manager dressed us at the motel so we could escape and asked her if she saw it on the telly.
    â€˜Yes, with the high heels caught as well,’ she said and then she started to smile as well.
    â€˜We laughed like crazy with the manager when we saw it. Bloody high heels. How do you walk in them?’
    â€˜Carefully’ was her reply and she moved on. ‘What was your wound. In Da Nang in ‘68?’
    â€˜1.5 balls blown off.’
    She kept her composure, which was clever, but I could see she was starting to crack up.
    â€˜You’re not able to father a child then?’ Which was more of a comment than a question.
    â€˜You got it right.’ He produced the copy of the medical report and showed it to the viewers.
    She paused. ‘What are you going to do about the scurrilous TV channel and papers who had you convicted before you could explain?’
    â€˜I could go for money but I’ve decided to demand a spoken and written apology from the reporter and the channel’s parent companies wherever they are.’ Martin