AUSTRALIAN PUBS is the result of a "25,000-mile pub crawl" embarked upon by Melbourne columnist John Larkins and photographer Bruce Howard. Their journey began one warm Sunday after- noon at Silverton, near Broken Hill, and ended twelve months and many hang- overs later at the new Wrest Point Casino in Hobart under the shadow of snow-capped Mount Wellington.
They drank in all kinds of pubs, from the little tin shanty in the outback, where the tumbleweed bounces past the ever- open door, to the dim cocktail bar in the city where lovers whisper. They found one pub built from bricks made by ants; another so violent that the licensee lives behind a barbed wire fence and hardly dares enter the bar without his German Shepherd dog; and yet another which is so lavish that it has Sidney Nolan origi- nals in the foyer, a mirror from Musso- lini's palace, enough caviar on hand to feed a Cossack regiment, and rooms costing more than $100 a night.
And because pubs are for people, they met many unusual characters on both sides of the bar. People like the old- timer who stockwhips a cigarette from his dog's mouth at ten paces and, when he's had a few beers, permits it to use a long cigarette-holder so that he won't flick its nose.
People like the tiny Japanese woman who runs one of the toughest pubs in the land and referees her patrons' fights to prevent kicking and gouging. Or the barman who wears make-up and paints his fingernails black the publican who prefers to go out dressed as a woman fighters, strippers, prostitutes, the rich and the poor.
With lots of humour, a touch of nostal- gia, a little drama and an infallible eye for the unusual and the offbeat, John Larkins and Bruce Howard have pro- duced the thirsty man's guide to Australia.
