I was one of the shortest prison officers in stature when I joined the New South Wales Department of Corrective Services in May 1971, standing at only five foot eight and a half inches, as people were measured back during that time. I was only in the job a few weeks when I first saw Robert (Bob) Dyson. I remember thinking to myself, ‘he has to be the tallest man in the world’.Mr Dyson looked impressive in his uniform. He was a First Class Prison Officer wearing two stripes on the right sleeve of his dark navy blue, almost black tunic. He stood so straight I was mesmerised, and I did not dare speak to him because he was a First Class Prison Officer and I was just a lowly “baggy arse”, the ink hadn’t dried on my papers yet as I was often reminded in those early days.
Mr Dyson was born in 1940 at Marrickville in Sydney NSW, just one year into the Second World War. My Dad, Leonard Egge, was brought up in the suburb of Enmore being in the same area of Marrickville. Mr Dyson, like most prison officers of that time, had a public school education and left school very close to his fifteenth birthday. Luck was on his side when he gained an apprenticeship with the Maritime Service Board and became a qualified carpenter and joiner. He was also a member of the Civilian Military Force (CMF), and served in the 14th Field R.A.A. 2nd Division Provost Corp.
He became a Probationary Prison Officer on 4th February 1966 and graduated in February 1967. In those days it was just two weeks training under the guidance of senior prison officer Lou Boyd, after which was a case of, “here are your keys, now do your best”.
“Dougal” and 10 Post Tom
On his first set of “B” watches Mr Dyson’s night senior was Senior Prison Officer Clyde Piggott, a man of considerable experience. There was an old mongrel dog that wondered around the Long Bay prison complex named “Dougal”. There was nothing special about him, just an old dog that was left to his own devices. Dougal had free run of the gaol and would come and go as he pleased, in and out of gates and doorways, many of which needed to be opened for him by prison officers. I imagine he was fed, loved and tolerated by everybody, officers and crims alike.
There were also a large number of cats roaming around especially at night hunting the giant rats that inhabited the drainage system of the prison complex, often said to be as big as a German Sheppard dog. One old cat was appropriately named “10 post Tom”. Unbeknown to Mr Dyson, old Dougal was lying behind him when 10 post Tom decided to go for a walk at 0200 hours in the morning. Without warning and in the still of the night, Dougal leapt to his feet and started to bark. Mr Dyson, not being used to the prison environment, jumped so high he nearly went over the 30 foot high brick wall. When his feet finally hit the ground he had to check his underpants to see if he’d had an accident in them. Only his good wife Liz would know the real answer to that when she did his washing.
