By John McKechnie AO, KC
As all good stories begin, once upon a time more than 60 years ago, Australian girls were at risk of becoming lured into immorality and misfortune.
Not by evil and manipulative men, but by comics with such salacious titles as Real Love, Darling Romance, and other suggestive names.
To deal with “this great menace in our midst”, Queensland established the Objectionable Literature Board (whether the literature or the board was objectionable is open to interpretation).
Almost immediately it struck, banning a host of comic books; targeted, it must be said, on a group we would today call ‘teenagers’.
Clearly these books were dangerous. The matron of a Salvation Army industrial home for girls had known girls to read the books from cover to cover, and over and over again. Girls accustomed to reading these books were found to be excited and unbalanced in the presence of males, but their behaviour improved when deprived of the books in question.
If this was not enough, a psychiatrist testified that the books constituted a danger to emotional, rather than intellectual, interests.
The Board banned the books. The publishers appealed to the Supreme Court. Alas, no succour there, although Sir Mostyn Hangar was on their side. The majority prevailed.
The publishers did not let the matter rest. After all, the comic books were popular (and profitable).
So it was that after three elderly gentlemen had considered the content of Love Experiences and Popular Romances, to name two more novels written expressly for teenage girls, five elderly gentlemen would decide on the literary merits of the publications.
The result was a cliff hanger (or Hangar) 3:2.
First, the Three disposed of any idea that the works might be regarded as literature in the same league as Pride and Prejudice or Wuthering Heights.
“What they contain is an affront to the intelligence of the reader … The stories are extremely silly, the letter press is stupid, the drawings are artless and crude, and situations are absurd.”
Tell us what you really think, your Honours!
But the Three reminded themselves that they are not concerned with the damage done to the intellect or, for that matter, the eyesight of the readers.
To modern readers accustomed to judges who voraciously devour every document before an appeal commences, it may come as a surprise that the court did not actually read the books until after hearing the argument as to why they were obscene.
Then the Three were surprised. When they turned to the publications, their actual character proved quite unexpected.
The theme of nearly all is love, courtship and marriage, virtue never falters and right triumphs. Matrimony is the proper end and, if you are not told that happiness ensues, it is the constant assumption.
This latter observation by the Three of course denotes that the books are obviously works of fiction.
The Three found that the pages contained nothing prurient, lewd or licentious.
There are adventures, short lived because of the size of the book, and bad men, sometimes wealthy. But the heroine always escapes by the aid of the strong embracing arms of a good young man on whom fortune is yet to smile.
So, what was the fuss all about?
It appears the books were illustrated.
The eyes of the heroine are drawn with lids either drooping or unduly raised, and her lips, though drawn in black and white, are obviously as rosy as lipstick can make them.
“There is, too, an evident though crude attempt to infuse the subject with glamour, in the modern technical sense of the term.”
Obviously, at least one of the Three was a fan of Robbie Burns, who used the word ‘glamour’ in a less modern way. Or maybe they were just pedantic.
It appears that all the heroine in any of the comic books did physically was embrace and kiss. That may have been enough for the majority of the Court of Appeal to find obscenity, but not for the Three.
So what of the minority?
Sir Edward McTiernan was 64. He had married less than 10 years before and had no children.
He described the books as consecutive drawings in panels of young persons in postures of enthusiastic affection, often kissing and fondling and indulging in absurd slang and erotic patter: The motif is an accent on sex.
You can tell the way this is going.
And, of course, it does.
“All of the books are calculated to excite the amorous passions of adolescents and immature persons and to infect those who are sweethearts with brutish standards of behaviour unworthy of the custom of courtship and the institution of marriage.”
Justice Webb was no less forthright.
He was satisfied that reading the books would engender a desire to seek similar experience and stimulate in them immoral sexual behaviour.
And so virtue either triumphed or was defeated according to your personal point of view, and the girls of Australia were free to read comic book romances to their hearts content.
All the judges, sad to say, have passed on, so leaving an unanswerable question: What would each one make of Mills & Boon (100 books a month), Tinder, and The Bachelor?
(Adapted from Transport Publishing Co Pty Ltd v Literature Board of Review (1956) 99 CLR 111)
