I was Father Chris Riley’s biographer. I’m so sad, but glad he got his dying wish

3 months ago 23

A few days ago, Father Chris Riley, that extraordinary Catholic priest who founded the charity Youth Off The Streets, which has helped an estimated 60,000 young people, said he thought he might die soon. “I think I might like to die,” declared the man who grew up with horses, “on the horses’ birthday.”

And he did. On August 1.

Mean Streets, Kind Heart. The relentless campaigner Father Chris Riley in 2013.

Father Chris always liked to get his own way, whether batting away government objections to win approval for his various projects, hammering on corporate doors for funds, or even unashamedly assailing the ears of the righteous to give more to his charity at church services.

And while it made him some enemies, he’d stop at nothing if he thought it might help secure a better future for Australia’s youth.

At the first school in Victoria where he worked as a teacher, he upset many people by setting up a refuge for homeless kids next door and refereeing (terribly one-sidedly) football matches between the pupils and “his” kids. Even in his last weeks, he was calling out politicians he felt had got it wrong in terms of child policies.

That stubbornness was something I admired hugely in him, even though it frequently caused me problems. I was his biographer with the book Mean Streets, Kind Heart. He phoned one day when I was halfway through writing it. “This book,” he said, “it isn’t going to be much about me, is it?”

It was, and it proved a massive bestseller.

He often had me in tears, hearing the heart-wrenching stories of some of the kids he’d helped. A girl who received, on her 13th birthday, a shot of cocaine from her dad. Another girl whose father held a gun to her head and pressed the trigger; she had no idea it wasn’t loaded. A boy beaten so hard for not wanting to hold hands with his dad on their way to church, his leg was broken.

It was horrendous listening to stories of parents’ inhumanity to their children. It helped me to understand how so many kids go astray as a result; it’s a lesson for us all.

But at other times, I was heartened, inspired and, yes, back in tears as that misery turned to triumph and, thanks to Father Chris Riley’s intervention, kids reclaimed their lives and built better futures.

After the 2004 tsunami, he cast his eyes further afield. He’d seen images on TV of children trapped in the waves, swimming for their lives, and then wandering the streets of Indonesia’s Banda Aceh, orphaned in the deluge. He immediately went over, then was forced to withdraw as Muslim locals, with experience of Christians taking away their children, were openly hostile. Giving up wasn’t in his vocabulary, though. He returned to Western Sydney and asked Muslim leaders there to give him an introduction.

Chris Riley in 2015 with Indonesian students who found shelter with his Youth Off The Streets after being orphaned in the Boxing Day tsunami.

So then he tried again and sent over vast amounts of food and clothing, beating all the major charities that were trying to fly in aid. I accompanied him back to Banda Aceh. He was so unused to travel that he constantly lost his hats and the plastic bags that he carried in lieu of a suitcase. And I looked on in awe as he set up a tented orphanage for the children, staffed by the young homeless Australians in his programs, watched over every night by him, smoking the odd (hidden) cigar.

Later, that orphanage became one of solid brick, the story of my next book with Chris Riley, World Beyond Tears.

After that, he dearly wanted me to write one more book, to teach people how to better bring up their children. As the author of so many academic papers and reports on child welfare, and with so much practical experience, he felt he had so much to give. Publishers disagreed. Times had changed, and priests and kids were no longer a good combination.

Jimmy Barnes and two of his children, Eliza-Jane and Jackie, in 2004 with Fr Riley.

But I’d learnt from him and refused to give up. Finally, a publisher acceded. I went to Chris, expecting he’d be thrilled. “What book?” he asked, puzzled.

He’d completely moved on to his next project, his next bunch of kids to save. Despite that, Growing Great Kids finally came out in 2015, 12 years after the first book, and he loved it.

I shall miss him hugely, as will all the kids who went through his programs, and all their families who cared. Father Chris was a true hero of his time and, doggedly determined to the last, I’m sad, but glad, he got his final wish.

Sue Williams is a journalist, author and columnist.

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