Editor Lyndon Keane says wherever Dave Glasheen is now, odds are he’ll still be the centre of attention and in the middle of spinning a yarn for a captivated audience. Photo: Supplied.
For a bloke who fled to one of the remotest parts of the country to rediscover himself in solitude after losing it all, Dave Glasheen certainly had a knack for drawing a crowd.
You could be forgiven for thinking a man who set up a new life on Restoration Island – about as far from the hustle and bustle of city life as you can get – would be averse to surrounding himself with people after turning his back on corporate life and parting ways the baubles most of us associate with success and making it as an adult these days.
But it wasn’t the case. When he died peacefully in Brisbane on 5 July, the 81-year-old Dave still had a reputation for being the life of the party with a penchant for engrossing friends and strangers with his stories, some of which were noticeably taller tales than others.
Despite his move to Resto, Dave genuinely relished human connection, a fact demonstrated by his willingness to hold impromptu book signings for anyone who asked on the beach of the place he called home for more than 25 years.
Perhaps it was because, unlike everything else in his life before it was lost in the 1987 stock market crash, it’s impossible to put a price tag on people.
I always found Dave to be in one of two frames of mind when communicating. The first was what you’d expect of a guy living in a remote paradise with all the time in the world to contemplate life, share stories and learn about the adventures and experiences of those who rocked up on his island doorstep. He’d talk your ear off, and it was to be celebrated as a major victory if you managed to get more than a few full sentences inserted into his animated raconteuring. The other was almost a throwback to his days as a business titan in Sydney – clipped and devoid of even a single unnecessary word.
It was the latter approach I encountered when I last spoke to Dave a couple of months before his death.
I had been planning on writing a feature piece on the coexistence of blackfella and whitefella philosophy in 21st century Australia, and what societal benefit could be drawn from embracing the differences and similarities of both cultures. Given his unique life experiences, especially after arriving on Resto, I figured Dave would be perfect to offer up a perspective.
I sent him a lengthy text message outlining my plan and asking what he thought about the idea as a story concept.
When my phone finally vibrated with his reply, it didn’t take long to read: “Yes interested”.
That’s when it dawned on me that Dave had worked out long ago there was no point dedicating the limited time we have on this blue marble to encounters that don’t enlighten or enrich our lives in some way. I asked, he said yes, so the ball was back in my court to transform his accedence into an engagement that was worth more than two words.
Sadly, Dave’s ailing health and my schedule colluded to ensure that engagement never happened.
Cape York and the myriad people who met him over the years after his Robinson Crusoe-like escape from the shackles of materialism and modern life are inestimably richer for having crossed paths with the Millionaire Castaway. He taught so many of us that it’s not what you have, but what you learn, who you love and what you experience that provide real wealth beyond our wildest dreams.
I have no idea what’s in store for us when we depart this mortal coil, but whatever’s out there, you’ll get Winx-like odds Dave is still the centre of attention, spinning yarns and doing it all on his terms.
