WITH a thick mane of wavy, silver hair and a big and exuberant personality, Tony Narracott was hard to miss as he did the rounds of Byron Bay.
As executive officer for the Byron Bay Chamber of Commerce back in the 90s and a leading voice for the push for a Byron Bay bypass and an opponent of the plan to move Byron Council’s HQ to Mullumbimby and sell the council chambers at Byron Bay, livewire Tony had a significant public profile.
I don’t know what the figures were, but I know his efforts led to a major boost in the chamber’s membership.
As editor of the Byron News, I had a lot to do with him in those days and he became a personal friend. Indeed, he made many friends in the town either through the chamber, Byron Ba
y Golf Club, Golden Oldies rugby, drinking at The Rails and no doubt with other groups in the town.
Ed Ahern, the one-time president of Byron United (chamber of commerce), once described him as “the most wonderful, sociable man” who would “go to the opening of an envelope”.
Born in Devon in the UK, Tony immigrated to Australia in the 1970s and eventually started a health products importing business in Sydney before making the move to Byron Bay in 1989.
Even being diagnosed in 2006 with lymphatic cancer and given six months to live didn’t hose down his enthusiasm for life.
Which is why, being the party-lover that he was, Tony wasn’t going to miss out on his own wake which he organised with the help of a few mates.
It was actually called an ‘Awakening’ and it attracted around 300 people to the Byron Bay Golf Club one fine evening in January 2007 and it was probably one of the biggest nights in the club’s history.
Fancy dress was the order of the night which explained the presence of St Peter, a handful of saints and a host of angels.
Far from being a sombre, reflective gathering, the night was a barrel of laughs beginning with the guest of honour being carried into the golf club on a stretcher by members of the Byron Bay Golden Oldies rugby union team.
With the application to his face of the magic sponge from the club’s hearse-like first aid box, Tony sprang to life to the cheers of his friends.
Several speakers followed, among them former Wallaby and ARU president, Peter Crittle dressed as an undertaker, who told colourful – and very funny – stories about Tony.
Later, there was pole dancing, big band music – and more stories.
It was not only an opportunity for his friends to give him a memorable farewell, it also had a practical purpose – to raise funds for the Byron Youth Service, a cause dear to his heart.
The following day, he described his Awakening as a top night “and so humbling”.
“It just blew me away,” he said. “People said they couldn’t remember a better night at Byron. That’s what pleased me so much.”
Tony said he was “lucky” to be given a warning because it had allowed him to put all his affairs in order, including instructions about what he wanted to happen after he died.
One month short of his 73rd birthday in early September, 2007, Tony was enjoying a barbecue at his mate Paul McCarthy’s house just down the road.
Following a cup of tea and some chocolates, he fell ill, but in true Tony style, given the choice between going to hospital and having a spa, he chose the spa.
He died shortly after with his partner, Barbara Turner and friends around him.
Abiding by his instructions, there was no funeral. Instead, he had arranged with Byron Bay funeral and death celebrant, Zenith Virago, for a do-it-yourself dispatch job.
The morning after his death, Zenith completed the paperwork with Barbara Turner and the Byron Bay Hospital, and then along with mates Paul McCarthy and Barry Wallace, they placed Tony in his white-painted cardboard coffin.
The coffin was put into Tony’s own car with Paul and Barry taking on the job of driving it to the Lismore Crematorium.
Paul and Barry told me later that they had decided that if there was a parking spot outside the Bangalow Hotel, they would stop and have a beer with Tony.
As it turned out, there was a spot and they went into the pub and ordered three beers – one each for them and one for Tony – before driving to Lismore.
That’s what mates do.
While there wasn’t a funeral, there was a wake.
It took the form one Friday afternoon shortly after Tony’s death of a very colourful and musical parade led by Tony’s son, Andrew, from the Butler Street Reserve, to the rail crossing then down the rail line to The Rails.
Tony would have loved it.