The subtitle of Saffron Incorporated is “The First King of the Cross and Fifty Years of Sex, Murder, Music and Mayhem” and that turns out to be a signal that this is, in fact, two distinct books in one volume.
Part One focuses on the eponymous, very shady businessman, property developer, and entrepreneur Abe Saffron, and how he came to be the most ubiquitous, powerful, and feared nightclub proprietor in Sydney’s red light district from the 1950s to his death in 2006.
For 200 pages, Coupe takes us through how Saffron grew up and became a businessman with many criminal connections and how the Cross evolved post WWII into a simultaneously glamorous and violently seedy home of strip clubs, illegal casinos, late night music venues, and crime – both organised and random.
Coupe is well qualified to do this, on three fronts. He has a background as a promoter, band manager, and music journalist that gives him insights into what was happening in Kings Cross just when Saffron’s power was at its peak. Second, Coupe conducted a lot of his business – and pleasure – in the very venues he’s describing, at least the musically focused ones. He may not have known how far Saffron’s influence extended at the time, but he was there. And third, Coupe is a lover of crime fiction, co-publisher of the quarterly crime fiction magazine Mean Streets in the 90s (and I can personally recommend the Hardboiled anthology he co-edited).
All this means he can give his bio of Saffron a lot of personal context, which he delivers in short, sharp, staccato sentences, and a self-referential style deliberately reminiscent of Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler. It’s like reading crime fiction about crime fact.
If that money was used for a drug operation, so be it. The man wasn’t a saint and his hands weren’t dirty. The money was.
Anderson’s proposal was simple: he wanted Con to kill Saffron. Not a beating or a couple of broken legs. Abe was to be dead. Very dead. Not coming back to the Cross dead.
This does mean Coupe occasionally trips himself up in his potboiler cliches.
Where there’s smoke, however, there is, as we well know, a degree of smoke.
Well, yes.
Still, this style helps to make the often sordid subject matter immensely entertaining. Which is not to deny that Saffron, his flunkies, his corrupt police and political friends, and his rivals traded in and off the worst excesses of human behaviour.
To be clear (and fair), Coupe doesn’t make light of Saffron’s possible involvement in the disappearance of Juanita Nielsen and the Luna Park Ghost Train tragedy, or his devastating trails of drug abuse, corruption, murder, and human exploitation. But some of the events deserve some tongue in cheek treatment, as clumsy criminals so often do.
Overall, it’s a fascinating account, giving full credit to others who’ve covered these subjects, with that added touch of Coupe’s own experiences.
Part Two is called “Music’s Underbelly” and this has Coupe diving more into the connections between organised crime and the Australian music industry.
While Kings Cross, and Saffron, are still present in this section, Coupe ranges much more widely and deeply into the characters, locales, and intricate machinations that drew – and, to some extent, continue to draw – these two seemingly distinct lines of business together.
He again relies on existing written accounts by well known observers and players (including his own books), weaving an often painful tapestry of criminal entrepreneurship that both fed and fed off rock and roll.
There’s less of the Philip Marlowe / Sam Spade wisecracking in this section, and more direct and personal quotes from industry stalwarts. Coupe seems often astonished this was all going on around him without him having noticed, and the awful consequences for some involved who were personally known to him sees him dial down both the cheekiness and the cynicism.
Put together, the two parts of Saffron Incorporated comprise a highly entertaining and informative book that lives up to its subtitle. Coupe finds a perspective on Saffron, Kings Cross and the music industry that very few other people could deliver. I couldn’t stop reading it, like the old cliche of being unable to turn away from a car crash.
There’s actually a third part to this book that is just as important, where Coupe acknowledges and lists all the sources he referred to in writing Saffron Incorporated. It’s a priceless list, a who’s who of anyone whose had something to say or write that was relevant to this book. You will undoubtedly recognise a lot of the names. I know I’ll be looking up some of them.
If I have a single quibble with this book, it’s that it would have benefited from some photos. There are a lot of names to keep track of, and it would have helped to picture some of the people involved. This might have helped me in separating Police Commissioner Norman (Bill) Allan from Deputy Commissioner Bill Allen.
Apart from that, Saffron Incorporated is a cracking good read, delivered as only Stuart Coupe could. Now I just have to decide where to file it my library: Biography, Music, or Sydney.
Very highly recommended.