Legendary restaurateur Giovanna Toppi knew both of the men who frequented her restaurants La Strada at Potts Point and Machiavelli in the city. In one of Sydney's most notorious unsolved crimes, a master safecracker broke into Mr Packer's office in the former Australian Consolidated Press building in Park St in April, 1995, cut through the safe at exactly the right spot to open it and made off with gold bullion weighing 285kg - now worth about $12.5 million.Ī detective who worked on the case admitted: 'Mr Packer was well aware of our inquiries and our major suspect.'' Greig found his boss thoughtfully absorbed when he whispered his belief: “This is it.MEDIA mogul Kerry Packer not only knew the thief who stole $5.4 million in gold bars from his office, they dined at the same restaurants, at the same time, at different tables.īut the two men never acknowledged each other. achieved the proletarianisation of cricket.”Īt his moment of triumph, Packer was also reflective, and intently entertained a cross-section of his world: the day-time television favourite Mike Walsh, celebrity sportscaster Mike Gibson, the telethinker Bruce Gyngell and agent Harry M Miller mixed with Lillee and Marsh, Sobers and Lloyd. “That Packer at that moment, so absolutely removed from the hoi polloi, should have. He had enticed sports fans out of the pubs… transforming the subtleties of traditional cricket into the spectacular that is night cricket.” “The incongruity of it all,” Adrian McGregor wrote. “That Packer at that moment, so absolutely removed from the hoi polloi, should have… achieved the proletarianisation of cricket.

Packer’s Fairfax rivals gave their syndicated copy grudging space, although the organisation’s National Times a fortnight later carried Adrian McGregor’s colourful, intelligent tribute. The local press contingent was three-strong: the Australian’s Phil Wilkins had only two news agency companions. Match reports were revealing, not so much in what was written but what was not. When the target narrowed to 34 runs with 20 overs remaining, three cheap wickets stirred the Hill’s “C’mon, Aussie” choir, but robust blows from Davis and Marsh clinched the match by 9.20pm. Ian Davis, striking Bernard Julien for three smart fours, joined his captain in an even-time stand of 42.

“As I looked out in the gloomy light I got a tingling feeling through my body.” Tony Greig, arriving late after a cross-country flight with the Amisses and Woolmers, choked back tears.Ĭhasing 128, the Australian batsmen never had to touch the heights. “There were hordes of people and cars as far as the eye could see,” he wrote. JP Sport’s first client, 4-12 in the bag, had never visited the executive room before and admired the view with awe. The 2.15pm toss was transacted for Ian Chappell and Clive Lloyd by 15-year-old Glen Michelic, a WSC coaching find from Fairfield, and the Australians fanned in the field to the strains of “C’mon, Aussie” hurling giveaway white balls into the 5,000 early arrivals.Ĭolin Croft bowling in the first match of World Series Cricket McDonald had called Packer before gates opened to describe lines of spectators twisting down Anzac Parade. But it upset a few people when they thought I was pooh-bagging the whole thing.” For many in attendance, WSC had become more than cricket, more than business, an end in itself. “I really had anticipated a big crowd,” McDonald recalls, “so I was quite underwhelmed. Their frivolity actually caused some offence in the party. “After all the hype and the publicity,” said ticket manager Bruce McDonald, “I would have been disappointed with anything less.”

“So,” he drawled, “what do you think of my crowd?” It was 8pm on Tuesday November 28, 1978, and WSC had 50,000 rocking, rollicking converts. Gideon Haigh relives the night that changed the game forever, as a near-capacity crowd turned out for a floodlit match at the SCG between the WSC Australia and West Indies sides.īill Macartney leaned back in parodied self-satisfaction as his companions looked down on the sea of faces beneath the SCG’s executive chamber.

Kerry packer obituary