You have to hand it to the documentary community – they know how to turn grief into a story. Exhibit A is Bob Connolly on Dennis O’Rourke at his memorial night on Saturday.
Forty years ago, in June 1973, Dennis and I left our Alice Springs motel, walked down the main street through cold winter rain and entered the town’s Mexican restaurant. It was our second visit, and the pretty waitress – let’s call her Sue – had eyes only for Dennis. After showing us to our table she scuttled off and returned with two menus, dropped one in front of me and reverently handed the other to Dennis. Then she stood there facing him, pencil poised. He ordered beer and enchiladas or some such, but it had to be hot, Sue, even hotter than last night!
