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noon.   My signed form and $100 in cash for the deposit had been delivered to the Returning Officer in Manly.   Peter Randall, Donna and I stood around waiting for the draw.   At the prescribed time, the Returning Officer announced that nominations were closed and that there were four candidates.   The dozen people in the office surged forward to watch him draw four slips of paper out of a hat.

        My heart was beating faster as the first slip was unfolded.   A favourable place on the top of the ballot paper was said to be worth an extra one percent of the vote.

        "Stewart" was read out!   Then came "Ashley" (Liberal), "McGruer" (Democrat) and "Dorney" (Independent).

        All were men.   Both McGruer and Dorney were sympathetic to the progressive policies of the Wran Governent and would not give me any real opposition.   Ashley was my only serious opponent, and he had the might of the local establishment behind him.

        As we filed out into the street Ashley and his campaign manager turned and shook hands with me.   His manager, a big beefy man who looked vaguely like John Waine, waved a fist:

        "Lets get on with it," he said, "and make it a fair fight!"

        I smiled and turned away.   I was too busy to waste  

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