My grandad was a story-teller. So the stroke that took away the deep tones and the hint of laughter in his voice was the worst of disabilities. Yet, had it not happened, he may never have recorded these 'memories of little incidents'.
This is not so much an autobiography of Henry Thomas Price, as a collection of anecdotes. The more poignant moments in grandad's life are here, but understated, amidst many remembrances.
This history was recorded in three stages from 1991 to 1995, and typed up by my aunt Mary Clark, grandad's youngest daughter. The most significant change in this edition has been to integrate the latter two collections (originally labelled as parts two and three) into the chapters of the first.
These anecdotes are in the process of being edited. I am attempting to retain the 'oral history' style yet allow them to be read with less of the hiccups of backtracks and repeats. My hope is that despite this editing, you will clearly hear my grandad's voice and enjoy his dry laugh.
Glenn McIntosh, August 2002.
To the people who take the trouble to read these memoirs, I would just like to say that they were written with one purpose in mind: to tell my own family something of my early life and upbringing, and also of the conditions at that time when there was no television or wireless, nor many cars about. People, as a general rule, never travelled very far in those days, particularly not overseas.
I did not intend it to be any sort of a history of any particular place, even of Neerim South, where I have lived for the best part of my life. I arrived here from Drouin on my 24th birthday, where I had been for five years, and the previous two years I was at Glen Waverley, which was a very different place in those days.
Sometimes, when I am working in the garden, memories of little incidents come flooding into my mind, recalling things that happened years ago.
Things that happened at the old hall, now gone. The many hospital meetings I attended there, church bazaars, and concerts. Public meetings about various matters like getting a high school at Neerim South, and talking about getting a water scheme going. Progress Association meetings when various ideas for the improvement of the town were raised for discussion. Anzac day services when there was a packed hall. So many things come to mind.
I'm sure that many older residents would have their own particular memories, and it would be good if someone, who was better qualified than I wrote them down. I'm sure the present generation would appreciate reading them.
I thought I would start at the beginning and try to recall my earliest memories of my life.
I was born at Pitt St, Ashted, Birmingham, England on the 23rd May 1908, in a small house that butted up to the pavement. One of my earliest recollections was looking through the small windows when it was raining and watching the drops run down the small panes of glass.
It would be no good looking for the house now as the whole little street (which connected two main roads) has been demolished, although it was there in 1952 when Alice and I visited England, and Alice took a snap of me standing in the doorway.
Our house was alongside the canal. There was a brick wall separating our yard from the water, and a door which was always securely locked. We had to go through this door to get on to the tow path, so called because a horse was used to tow the boats along the canal.
We just had a bare yard, and my father, coming from the country, loved a garden and flowers. So to compensate he had some boxes in the yard with sunflowers in them, and from what I remember they grew fairly tall.
The first song I ever remember being sung by a group of people walking down the street was 'Alexander's Ragtime Band' which I have since found out came out in about 1913; the song was fairly new. I have heard it many times since, but those people who sang it so long ago sang with great gusto.
I think that I must have always liked music, because one day a sailors' band passed by Pitt street playing stirring march music, and there were a lot of people following along behind, so I joined them. Eventually they turned into their barracks or someplace, and of course I was lost. Someone must have taken me to the Police Station and I guess I was crying, but I can't remember much except one of the policemen offered me a bit of bread to eat. I never heard my mother's side of the story, but no doubt they found me missing and got in touch with the police. Anyway it all ended happily for me because my uncle Charlie came for me and carried me home on his shoulders.
Another remembrance was being pushed up Belmont Row (one of the streets which Pitt street joined onto) in a push chair, and I don't think the pavement was too smooth! Anyway we were heading up to the Belmont Row Wesleyan Methodist Chapel at the top of the street. My mother was going to a mothers' meeting that they used to hold every so often. Of course it wasn't very interesting to me, but I guess my mother liked it. I was more interested in the seats. The backs of them could be switched so they were made to face the opposite way which was ideal, I guess, for Sunday School classes and, maybe, small boys who liked to push them back and forth.
Sister Clare was connected to this Chapel and no doubt had something to do with the mothers' meetings. She gave me a little book of devotions to read when I left for Australia. I must say that we also started going to Sunday School at Belmont Row Wesleyan Chapel. If I remember rightly the teacher's name was a Mrs Bedwell, who seemed very old to me although she was probably quite young.
My recollection of the Sunday School was of a fairly large building with a balcony inside it and doors leading off the main part into small rooms. There was also a pulpit in there. I learned later that it was one of three chapels that were built by John Wesley in the 1780s. There had been another chapel built in front of it at a later date. Unfortunately all these chapels have gone now. I think the Belmont Row Chapel was finished off by a bomb in the Second World War.
I have also wondered what happened to the Pipe Organ that was on the balcony where the choir seats were; above the pulpit or rostrum it was. I guess they were transported elsewhere when the Chapel was dismantled.
A couple of other thoughts come to mind, and one was of our mother taking us a couple of doors along the street to see an old man who was very sick. I don't know what was wrong with him, but as he lay on his back in his bed he looked all swollen up to me. He died soon after; his name was Mr Arnold.
Not far from where we lived there was a smelter works; I think it must have been because you could see this big fire inside. The older children used to tell us younger ones that it was hell, and if we didn't behave ourselves that was the place we would go.
About the year 1913 we left Pitt St as my father got a job as lock-keeper in another part of the canal. We moved to a larger house on the other side of the city at Ludgate Hill. It was a house of three storeys and standing on its own, right alongside the canal, but like the Pitt St house there was no garden, just a narrow bricked yard between the canal and the house and a wider brick paved yard at the back of the house; which was where the toilet was situated. There was also a shed which my father had built to keep his tools in, as well as the coal for the fire.
Inside the house there were lots of brass knobs on the doors, and also a brass chain just below the mantle with two brass knobs. It also had a swivel piece made of brass which could be swung out from the wall and held in position by the chain. This was used to hang the meat on in front of the hot coals in the fireplace. A string dangling from the swivel went round and round with a pan underneath to catch the fat. Of course someone had to give it a help along if it got stuck.
Another cooking utensil we used in front of the fire was a Dutch oven. The pieces of bacon were hung on hooks and the fat dropped into the pan. The back was on a swivel and could be switched over so as to do the other side. Winnie and I got a penny for cleaning the brasses on Saturday morning.
There was a fairly low brick wall as a protection from the water, and further on was the lock where the canal boats used to go, usually pulled by one horse although there were one or two driven by a motor and one pulled by two donkeys. There were thirteen locks in Birmingham which were used to negotiate the hills.
After we moved to Ludgate Hill, Winnie 7 years old, decided to take me 5 years old, across Birmingham and back to Pitt Street. I don't know why or how we got home again, but it was a fair way right across the centre of the city. Of course it was a lot quieter in those days, about 1913. Not many cars! The days when the ladies wore what they called 'hobble skirts'.
It was about this time that we were taken on a holiday to Weston-Super-Mare, on the coast and a popular seaside holiday place.
There was mother and mother's aunt, Alice Walton, a spinster, Winnie and I and a cousin, Arthur Jones, who was ten years older than me. That would make him about 15 years old and he was always ready for a bit of fun.
One day we were taken on a trip on a ship and there were the usual steps or stairs from one deck to the next. Arthur was chasing us all around and up and down the stairs from one deck to another. We thought that it was great fun, but I don't know about the other passengers.
Winnie and I used to think it very funny at night time to see aunt Alice taking her false teeth out and putting them into a glass of water before she went to bed. Now I do the same thing myself, I don't know about Winnie.
It was at Weston that I got lost for the second time. I was following the others along the sea front, I suppose gazing around and dreaming, when all of a sudden my family had disappeared and I found myself on my own. I don't remember if I was crying or not, but someone must have taken me to the Police Station, and there I was feeling pretty forlorn and wondering to myself how I was ever going to get back to Birmingham. Anyway I was very pleased when my mother came to collect me.
Other things about my very early life come to mind. One is of our mother telling us that grandma Price paid her one and only trip to Birmingham, from Blymhill, although it was only twenty-five miles or so away.
Home brewed beer was the drink at mealtimes in the country. When grandma came she had brewed some and according to the stories I heard she had to get up in the middle of the night to skim the balm off.
Our mother made some drink called 'pop'. I think that it was so called because when a bottle of it was left standing, the cork would fly off and hit the ceiling. It went pop!
I am not sure how it was made but the barge men who went up and down the canal seemed to like it. It was a penny a large bottle and a halfpenny for a small one. It sounds pretty cheap; I'll have to check with Winnie about that
I might add, that as far as grandma Price was concerned she just did not like big cities, and what she thought happened there.
Another two memories have stuck in my mind over the years. One was on the 3rd August 1914, the day before war was declared against Germany that mother took us to see uncle Charlie and aunty Lizzie at Billesley, Kings Heath, because uncle Charlie, being a member of the Naval Reserve, would be sure to be called to the Colours on the outbreak of war.
He had been in the Royal Marines. However, when we got there he had already left having been called up to report to Portsmouth the day before, so we did not see him again until he came home on leave.
The other incident I refer to is my father taking me on his shoulders to see the first troops heading for France, with their guns being dragged along by the horses and the troopers sitting astride the near side horse. It was a stirring sight for a young boy. People were cheering, but of course things changed afterwards.
I remember the Recruiting Bands that were marching and playing stirring marches and men in civilian clothing marching behind them going to enlist in the army. I believe that Lord Kitchener had appealed for a volunteer army of one million men. Of course conscription came in 1916.
There is one recollection which I think that I should mention here, although it happened a bit later, in March 1918, when I was 9 years and 10 months old.
Winnie and I came home from school one day and found a few people and a policeman at our house in Ludgate Hill. Of course the war was still going on and mother was out working. When she came home she told Winnie and I that our father had died.
I had a bit of money in the bank, probably about one pound fifteen shillings, and I remember asking mum whether she wanted me to draw it out of the bank.
Later on, I don't remember how many days, our dad was brought home, and the coffin was in our front room. On the day of the funeral people would come and look at his face; so white, and not a wrinkle on his forehead.
His half sister, our aunt Lucy who lived in the country about 5 miles from Blymhill, at a place called Little Bron, came and kissed his forehead.
I think that my father's death at the age of 40 had a great effect on my thinking for a long time, and I guess on my life too. Mother said he had been keen on emigrating to Canada (he had a nephew there).
While at Pitt St I reached the age of five years, so, of course had to start school which was about two streets away. So, off to Windsor Street Council School as it was called, but, I being a very shy little boy, did not want to go. There were no kindergartens or anything like that to get a small child used to being away from home. However, that was the regulation and so I had to go, and I guess there has been many since me who have cried on their first day at school.
There happened to be a small shop at the end of Pitt St; a sort of corner shop that kept groceries etc including sweets. The owner was a man called Mr Harvey and he used to attend the Wesleyan Chapel and so my mother knew him well. We stopped there on the way to school on that first day and my mother bought me some sweets to eat. I guess it was a form of bribery, which has also been practised a lot since those days, to stop children crying.
But unfortunately for mother it didn't stop me. I remember crying all the way to school and even after I got there. The teacher, Miss Bird, who wore skirts down to the floor, looked very old to me and I remember her saying "If you don't stop crying I'll send you home." This of course made me cry all the more as it seemed the logical thing to do.
Anyway, I must have settled down eventually because I still have a photograph of Miss Bird and the class of us infants. The school has now been demolished along with all the other schools I have attended.
We came to change our abode not long after I had started school, as my father had another job as a lock keeper in the canal at Ludgate Hill, just the other side of the city and still on the side of the canal. So of course this meant we had to change schools and go to St Pauls Infant School. It was in Warstone Lane and there was a girls' school adjoining it; to which Winnie went.
I was probably about 6 when we left Pitt Street and started at St Pauls. It had like the other schools hot water pipe going around the room near the floor to heat the room and it was treat if one's desk happened to be near the wall, and they were able to put their hands on the pipe. A lovely feeling on a cold day. However, we had no choice as to where we sat.
I cannot remember much about this school except that during the 1914-1918 war we were all given small pieces of cloth. The idea was to tease it out and pull all the threads apart. We were told that it was to be used to stuff pillows to put on the beds in the military hospitals where wounded soldiers were being treated on their arrival back from France.
Some of the pieces were pretty tough to pull apart so the boys, not very old, thought something should be done about it. On the floor underneath my desk was an iron grating. I'm not sure what lay down below, however, if the boys got a tough piece of cloth that was hard to pull apart they would pass them back to where I was sitting for me to put them through this grating. Then they would ask for another piece, as some of the pieces were quite easy to pull apart.
I never did find out what was below that grating, or if those pieces of the cloth were ever found. I guess that we were told that we were helping the war effort and the wounded soldiers.
Another memory of this school was the policeman on point duty on the corner where we had to cross to get to school. A cousin of my father, Joe Plevin, was in the Police Force, and was often on point duty on that particular corner, near the school. He used to speak to Winnie and I as we crossed the road, and we thought that was pretty good.
The school was connected to St Pauls church at the top of Ludgate Hill, Birmingham, which was called the Jeweller's Church, being in the Jewellery quarter of Birmingham and supported by them. It was also the church where James Watt and Matthew Boulton were early members. I believe it had wonderful acoustics and concerts were regularly held there.
When I left St Pauls Infant School, I went to Camden Drive Boys School which also happened to be connected with St Pauls.
I think my first teacher here was Miss Martin and another was Mrs Holland. The classrooms were divided one from another by glass partitions. At least the top half was glass and the bottom was wood and they were made something like a concertina, with sections with hinges so that they could be pushed to the side of the room. This made one big hall, where all the boys were assembled for the opening session of school.
The school clock was in the room next to ours and some of the boys in the front row of the class would ask quietly, or pass the word back to us in the back rows to have a quick glance into the adjoining room to see what the time was. This meant standing up quickly, turning around and having a quick look in the room behind to see the clock. The method commonly used was to wait until the teacher had his back turned and was busy writing something on the blackboard, then standing up quickly turning around for a quick look at the clock before the teacher turned back towards the class. If you weren't fast enough it meant the cane.
At midday mealtime each class sang the Grace, and before leaving the classroom the teacher would ask, "Who knows the first commandment," and most of the hands would go up. She would pick one boy out and if he recited it clearly and correctly he was allowed to leave the classroom first. There were not so many hands up for the second commandment, because it was longer, and so it went to the third and fourth and so on. There were always plenty of takers for the sixth, 'thou shalt not kill', and the shorter ones. When there was only about half of the class left, she would dismiss all of us, and I was generally among them, not so much because I didn't know them, but because I was too slow.
Being a school connected with St Pauls of which Canon Smith was the incumbent, he paid a visit to the school occasionally and would mark the register of each class. But, whereas the teacher would call out the names, "Martin, Price," and so on, old Canon Smith would give us our full names, "Benjamin Martin Henry Price". He was a big man and always seemed to have the boys following him, and as he walked down Church Street from the Cathedral and up Ludgate Hill to St Pauls, if he passed you on the footpath he would give you a pat on the cheek, which would nearly knock you over and say "Bonny boy."
I have since heard that he was a bit eccentric and on one occasion he saw the cab driver belting his horse up Snow Hill and took the whip off him and gave the cab driver a bit of it! Canon Smith also served as a padre during the First World War and I heard that during his time in France he fell into a shell hole.
As I have stated, the war was on during the entire time I was at school, and I understand from what I have been told, that they were getting so many men that were medically unfit for Military Service, when they were called up that they sent doctors around to the schools to check on the students.
So a doctor in army uniform came to our school to check the boys' health. He asked us each in turn what sickness we had had such as measles, chicken pox and so on. I had been told at one time some of the things that we had had, so I think I made a rough guess at some of them.
As far as I was concerned, the main result of the doctor's visit was that I had to have my eyes examined. I was told I had a squint in one eye, and used the left eye the most. In other words, I had a lazy right eye.
I was given glasses to wear, and had to have a pad over the left eye to make me use the lazy one. I can honestly say I was self conscious going to school like this and it didn't last too long. However, when being examined some years later to go to Australia, the doctors said my eyes were okay.
Other things that I remember at this school were the very small playground and having our boots inspected to make sure they were clean. Of course they always inspected the backs of the boots, and you could see the boys rubbing the backs of their boots on their long stockings that were generally worn.
Thinking back, I suppose the discipline which we received at this school stood us in good stead for our later years. Though I don't know if sitting two in a desk with our hands behind our backs and elbows in was too good. The teacher walked behind the rows of desks and if our elbows were sticking out she would say, "Elbows in, not out like sails."
One incident which happened to me whilst going to this school occurred in the street. I was doing what most of the boys did at that time, that was to run after the horse and cart and swing our feet up onto the back axle and get a free ride. There was usually a string of boys on the back of a cart.
One day I grabbed hold of the back not far from the wheel, and when somebody called out to the driver, "put your whip behind," all the boys jumped off, that is except me, my foot had got stuck and I could not get it free. The driver had stopped and a policeman happened to come by, asked me a few questions and wrote my name and address in his little pocket book.
I was too scared to mention this at home because I shouldn't have been on the back of the cart in the first place. However, a friend of Winnie's had seen the incident and told Winnie, and she told mum and dad and I had to face up and tell them the whole story and receive due warning about not riding on the back of the carts.
I recently heard in the news about people being killed in a crowd stampede in Hong Kong. It brought to my mind an incident which occurred about 1916 during the First World War. The British had invented this new weapon which was called a 'tank'. I believe the name was something to do with it being kept secret. I suppose this incident happened after they had been used in France. One tank came through Birmingham and it rumbled up Corporation street to Victoria Square where it stopped. People were able to go into it and buy War Saving Certificates to support the war effort.
That night I got into the biggest crowd I have ever been in. It was fortunate that I was pretty tall, but I made a mental decision at the time that I would steer clear from getting into large crowds in the future. One felt so helpless as it was impossible to get out.
Well! Winnie and I were well settled at our respective schools and had friends there, when in March 1918 our dad died very suddenly. He was 40 years and 8 months old.
He had two jobs at the time, to help the war effort, and also took over uncle Charlie's allotment of about a 1/4 of an acre, at a rough guess, and dug it all by hand and planted shallots and potatoes. The reason he did this was because uncle Charlie was at sea during the war.
He was the lock keeper on the canal and was sometimes on night shift. However, during the war there were Zeppelin raids over England which was usually at night; and when this occurred the lock keepers had to put stop planks in somewhere up the canal, but I am not sure what the purpose was [to mitigate flooding if the canal was bombed].
One lock keeper would be on duty during the night and one would have the day shift. If there was an air raid and my father was in bed at night, the other lock keeper would wake him up by tapping on the second floor bedroom window and waking him up to come and help him. So at times he was not getting proper rest.
He also had another job at Elkingtons, an electroplate works, but no doubt on war works, a couple of miles or so up the canal. The coal barges carrying what they called 'slack coal' which was very fine, not in lumps, were moored alongside his work and his job was to shovel the coal into a barrow on the towpath and wheel it into the factory.
He was a bit long in coming in with the next barrow load and they went out to see where he was. They found him near the barge, dead.
The cause of his death was put down to heart failure, but no doubt there would be another name for it now. My mother blamed it on too much work and poor food during the war, but whatever it was it changed our direction. Of course it was a great shock to everybody and especially our mother. It affected her lifestyle although she never lost her faith in God.
Mother had to find a job and was therefore away from home a lot and Winnie and I had to change schools. I don't think that we were very cooperative, as we were quite happy with our old school.
The idea was to go to Lozells Street School near where aunt Mary lived and to go to her place for midday dinner, which was really a good idea, but at the time we didn't like it. Anyway we had to do what we were told as it was for the best. Our mother's family was pretty good at helping each other in times of need.
I might add that uncle Charlie was in hospital with malaria at the time of dad's death and aunt Mary's eldest son, Arthur, was wounded in France. uncle Arthur was also in the army in France.
I'm afraid as I think back to the time before our father's death, memories come flooding back into my mind. Just little things.
Like our dad promising Winnie and I if we managed to save nineteen shillings, he would make it up to one pound. It doesn't seem much to us now, but then it was to us and also bought a lot.
The canal boatmen used windlasses to wind up the paddle on the lock gate to let the water out one end when they were travelling up hill.
Sometimes the boatmen would accidentally drop the windlass (which was shaped like a crank handle for a car) into the water and lose it, and my father who had a long handled sort of a rake, would fish around later and get it out.
He sold the ones he got to the barge people and promised us the money he got for them as a bit of encouragement for us.
There were one or two motor driven barges, but most were pulled by a single horse, with a long rope attached to a mast on the boat. There was one pulled by a couple of donkeys.
It's amazing what tonnage can be pulled along using this method, but it was a slow progress and only useful for non-perishable goods. The boat people were a race apart and lived in a cabin on the boat and were dressed a bit like gypsies. The barges were brightly coloured.
I remember one night when a man and woman had made their way out onto the canal side. They were not supposed to be there at all. They may have been drunk, because, although we were inside, we could hear them calling out and making a lot of noise. It was dark and right opposite our house where the lock was when all of a sudden the shouting increased. It appeared that as they were crossing the lock gate to get to the towpath on the far side the woman had fallen into the lock and drowned. After a while the police and a lot more people arrived.
I remember looking, or trying to look, through the cracks in the shutters on our windows to find out what was going on. I could not see much, but heard a lot of talking. By the way, we had shutters made of wood and fixed securely over the windows at night for protection. We had them on the first two houses I lived in.
There were only a few houses left around the area when we lived there. Years before there were hundreds of houses. It was mostly businesses that had replaced the houses of earlier years.
The little cluster of houses where we lived were owned by the Birmingham Canal Navigation Company called the BCN. There were quite a few children in these houses and we made our own fun with our old-fashioned games, which no doubt had been played for generations before us.
When Alice and I went over there in 1952 these houses were still standing and occupied. We met a chap who was doing some work there on the day we visited the place, and he happened to be one of the children who lived there when we did. He said that he was only saying to his sister, Kate, a day or two before, what great times we used to have there as children playing games. The best thing was they didn't cost any money except for the skipping rope.
It was just as well, because none of us had much money to buy anything. I used to look into the shop windows in the arcades where there were working models made with Meccano sets. I eventually got one for Christmas but mine was not big enough to make the big models they showed in the windows, and I was disappointed.
Another memory had come back to me about the canal house at Ludgate Hill. The canal was emptied every now and again, I suppose for maintenance work and, over the little wall from our house was what was called the pound. This had an earth bottom, unlike the lock which was all bricked.
When the canal was emptied, small pools of water were left on the bottom of the pound, with these little fish in them. They were called minnows, but we called them Jack Bannocks or some such name as that.
On one such occasion I got my net and caught a lot of them and put them into a big tub, like a barrel filled with water. Unfortunately next morning, much to my disappointment, half of them were dead. The tub, was open at the top and my mother used to use it to wash the clothes in. It was called a maiding tub, and I guess the remains of soap from the washing were still there.
I might mention, there was what we called the 'maiding stick' which was used to sort of bounce up and down on the clothes in the tub. The stick that was used was a solid piece of wood shaped like a cylinder, divided into four quarters at the bottom a little way up and had a T-handle at the top, and we children did the maiding; that is bump the maiding stick up and down on the clothes in the tub. When the clothes were done and rinsed they were put through the big old mangle with its wooden rollers. It was another job for the children to turn the mangle stick. A far cry from the washing machines and spin dryers now. I guess that people should have more time now!
Of course it wasn't all work as far as Winnie and I were concerned.
Working on the canal, my father could get one free pass and as many quarter fares as he liked on the London, Midland and Scottish Railways. I remember mother taking us on a day trip to Liverpool and while there going on a ship to New Brighton.
We also went by the same means to Newport, Shropshire, to visit my grandmother and sometimes stay there at Blymhill Common which was six miles from Newport and which mostly we had to walk. It was only five miles to walk from Shifnal to grandma's, but that was on another railway line belonging to another company so there were no quarter fares.
Mother had been in service at a big house in Edgebaston with people named Partridge, at that time a sort of Toorak of Birmingham. She worked with another girl who was there and they became friends.
This girl married a Mr Oldnore who was a coachman and later a chauffer to Sir Richard Cooper, the inventor of Cooper's sheep dip, for which I believe he was knighted. Coopers had a big place called Shenstone Court. It had big parklands around it with big horse chestnut trees there and big entrance gates with a small lodge house at the gate.
My mother's friend Mrs Oldnore had two children, also named Harry and Winnie, and they lived in a house across from the Court. It was a strange sort of house, just one level with a passage along one side and rooms leading off it. When we went there it was war time and the gardens were all neglected as the men were away at the war. There was only one very old gardener there.
There was also a nice stream running through the grounds and you could stand upon the rustic bridge to see the trout swimming down below. Harry and I used to go for a dip, usually in bare skin.
I must get back to the Partidges because mother's friendship with them had a bearing on my life afterwards. The Partridges were going away and they asked mother to look after their house while they were away, so the three of us became installed in the big house at Edgebaston.
We had a great time there, there was a large nursery with a big dolls house and a lot of other toys, and in the garden on the nice big lawn there were croquet hoops, also the mallets and balls to go with them. Winnie and I had a great time, but I don't know about mum.
We had a great time with our cousin at Billesley, Kings Heath, at aunt Lizzie's especially at Christmas time and the tricks the girls used to get up to. There was a park near their place and a golf course opposite.
It's impossible to go into all the detail of what we did and the fun we had. Aunt Lizzie was a very tolerant person, especially with the children.
Our grandmother Elizabeth Humphreys (nee Walton) lived with them, but she died during the war; I think about 1915 or 1916.
I have mentioned a few of the things and places where we were taken, just to show it wasn't all hard work as far as Winnie and I were concerned. Of course it wasn't the same for a lot of our contemporaries.
I started off talking about schools but have strayed somewhat. When our dad died so suddenly, it meant our mother had to get a job to keep us going. The war was still going on and there were no widow's pensions in those days. She got a job as an assistant cook in a large munitions factory canteen. This meant that sometimes she was on night shift so she made an arrangement with neighbours to sleep at our place at night to be company, especially as there were still air raids going on. Lily Webb was the lady's name, but I think she was more scared of the air raids than Winnie and I were.
Because of the events Winnie and I had to change schools again.
The arrangement being made to go to Lozells Street School, which was close by aunt Mary's place. The idea being that we could walk there from Ludgate Hill, which was about two miles; go to aunt Mary's for dinner and go home at night, which we did for a couple of years and never missed a day. This showed how mother's family stuck together in times of struggle.
I must say Winnie and I did not view it like that at the time, having made friends at the old school, and we were not very keen on changing. But it had to be done and I can remember aunt Mary saying we would have to go to the Blue Coat School if we didn't cooperate. That carried the day because the Blue Coat School was in the middle of Birmingham and the boys wore a very old fashioned uniform - knee breeches, tailed coats and a beret with a tassel on top of their heads.
And so we walked to Lozells St School in the morning and back in the afternoon. A couple of miles each way but of course there was plenty to see on the way. We passed a pork butcher's shop on the way there with huge half-sides of pigs hanging up outside the shop on hooks. We gave them a pat on the way.
Sometimes we saw a number of pigs being driven along the road, so I guess they must have killed the pigs there. One wouldn't see that now.
Lozells St School was a good school and I think that the teachers were good too. The boys and girls were in separate schools, which seemed to be the usual thing in those days, for better or worse!
The Headmaster was named Mr Homer, and called 'Polly', maybe because he had no hair on his head, but he had had that name for years.
The classrooms were divided by roll-up partitions and when rolled-up it made one big hall of the school. Every morning the whole school was assembled together with the headmaster at this desk at about the centre near one side, where he could see the whole school.
In the morning the first thing we had to do was to sing some hymns and say the Lord's Prayer. A boy played the piano. Some of the hymns were, 'O God our help in ages past', 'God of our fathers, known of old', 'Come sing with holy gladness your hymns of praise today', and others. The Headmaster expected everyone to sing and if he caught one or two not singing he would get them out round the piano in front of the school and make them sing a verse or two on their own. I was scared of getting caught and having to go out. I always made out that I was singing even if I wasn't, by forming the words with my mouth. As I was always a fair way away from the headmasters desk I never got caught.
One of the teachers told us when we got to the higher grades that Mr Homer was very keen on singing. He conducted a choir somewhere and could tell to a tenth if you were out of tune. He wasn't too happy if he caught anyone singing out of tune. Of course we had singing lessons too, learning two parts, but my voice broke fairly early so they put me out of singing class, and gave me some essays instead, which I liked doing.
The school was divided into four houses named Rugby, Eton, Harrow and Shrewsbury. I was in the latter and our colour was blue. These houses competed in football, cricket, athletics, and swimming. At the end of the year a shield was presented to the most successful house.
This was our school song:
Then here's to our Lozells, and its boys,
To the football struggle and the cricket joys,
The hours in class and the playground noise,
And the name and the fame of the old school.
During our first year at this school the Armistice of 11th Nov, 1918 was signed, much to everyone's relief. People built bonfires in the street and tore down hoardings for fuel. The lights went on in the streets after being blacked out for four and a half years; in fact from the time I was six years old until I was ten and a half. All that time things were not normal. I remember when my cousin Jack, from Blymhill, came home on leave from France. He had to get a food ration book and I had the job of taking him into the city to get his book as he didn't know Birmingham very well.
Boys in all the schools in North Birmingham had to march in fours down to their sports ground at Holden Drive, Perry Barr, to celebrate the Armistice, for which we had practiced many songs. 'Land of Hope and Glory', 'Charlie is my Darling', 'O God our help in ages past', and so on. This was probably a fair while after the Armistice and in 1919 when the Peace Treaty was signed. I guess the Armistice was more dramatic, because what happened then was spontaneous, with people cheering and singing. A release for their pent up feelings.
After the war, several teachers who had been in the Services came back to the school and resumed their peace time jobs. Captain Sutton, Sergeant Dainty, and Corporal Powell. Mr Sutton and Mr Dainty were two of my teachers later on and both told us of some of their experiences.
Another aspect of the return of these teachers was the change in the school yard. At lunchtime or playtime, when the school captain rang the school bell, and also first thing, all the boys had to stand still where they were and stand at ease. The captain would then bring them to attention and say markers fall-in and six prefects would stand at their respective positions as markers. Then the captain ordered us to fall-in and we fell into lines besides the markers in respective positions, right-dressed, to get into line.
Then, when the school captain gave the order, the prefects or markers ordered each of their columns in turn to march to left or right as the case may be as we went into school by different doors. Then left wheel, quick march, as one of the boys played a march on the piano to keep us in step. I guess the teachers were using their Army experience on us. By this time I was made prefect and had to give my class the order to march. I wasn't very keen on it.
Mr Sutton was what they called a pupil teacher. Years before the war our cousins Arthur and Harry Jones had attended that school. Harry later met Mr Sutton at a military camp at Sutton Coldfield not far from Birmingham, where the Warwickshire Regiment was camped. Harry called him Sir or Mister and Mr Sutton said, "We are all one here, no mister."
While at this school we had to go to a woodwork school once a fortnight and also a jewellers' school and a science school every so often. These schools were quite a way from Lozells St and we had to make our own way there.
At both the woodwork and jewellers' school we had to first of all draw up rough plans of our work and then draw proper plans to scale and eventually make the model, and so on. We thought we were never going to get to do the practical work in metal or wood. We did get to do some saw piercing on some metal to a pattern we had designed in previous weeks. When we were leaving at the end of our time, the teacher at the jewellers' school told me that I would make a better silversmith than a jeweller because my hands were too big for small work.
Of course some of the pupils were not angels. I remember one day, we were using these fine saw blades and cutting patterns in metal, according to designs we had previously made. The blades broke easily, and beeswax was used to make them slide through more easily. One day the teacher was out of the room and one boy thought he would put beeswax on the floor; which of course made it slippery. When the teacher came back into the room he slipped and fell over at this spot, much to the amusement of the class, but not to the teacher. A bit silly as one looks back from a mature age.
Many games we played during playtime and other times, besides soccer, and cricket. Cigarette Cards were used to play 'drops and skims', also budding capitalists would make a machine out of a box with various holes in the top and a parapet around. The holes were numbered and some had 'win one' or 'win two' or 'lose two'. Your marble was placed on a certain spot and you had to pull the trigger, connected with a spring. It sent your marble around the top of the box. If you were lucky it went into a win hole, but that was rare because of the way the holes were placed. Generally the box holder ended up with most of the marbles.
Others though of other ways to get the most marbles. I have often thought that these boys must have had keen business acumen, and wondered how they got on in life!
During winter there was sometimes ice on the school yard. We had an ice slide that ended by the school gate. It was one long slide and then we had to trudge back to the starting point. It was great fun and warmed one up, but if you had hobnailed boots on you weren't popular because the hobnails scratched the surface of the ice and caused others using the slide to trip and possibly fall.
When it was snowing of course we had snowballing. At this time a neighbouring school used to come and attack us, and all our boys joined together to defend the school.
There was an Honour Roll in the school with the names of 35 old boys who had paid the supreme sacrifice in World War I. This school has since been demolished and one wonders what has happened to all those records.
When we went to England in 1952 I went on a nostalgic trip to see the old school. I found that most of the students playing in the playground were West Indian and Asian. Times had changed somewhat.
I think I have mentioned before that the girls' school that Winnie went to was on the other side of the road and the Methodist Church was on the opposite corner. We went to Sunday School there and the boys' part was held in the girls' day school, under arrangement with the school authorities.
About 1920 we had to leave the canal house at Ludgate Hill as the BCN wanted it for another workman. Houses were scarce to rent so we had to rent some rooms in a couple of different streets, at Lozells street, Anglsey street, and Nursery road. We were a bit cramped for space at this period.
When in England in 1952 we went and saw the old house at Ludgate Hill and found that the lady living there then was the lady who had taken over the house in 1920 when we left. She said that her husband had only worked for the canal company for a couple of years after we shifted.
I went to Lozells St School until I was 14 years and 3 months old and left in August 1922 having completed the 8th standard which was equivalent to the 2nd year in our high schools.
I received a good report signed by the new Headmaster, Mr Bedford, and I have still got this report. Never missed a day at school, never late and so on, and also didn't get any qualification for any particular job! I enjoyed school up to a point.
I also received one of my various nicknames while there. It was after the war had finished and of course the German Zeppelin raids were still fresh in everyone's minds. This particular day I must have been in dreamland staring out of the window and Mr Sutton, the teacher, said "What are you looking for, Price?" I replied, "Nothing Sir." He said, "I thought you might be looking for zeppelins, turn round to the front Count von Zeppelin!" After that at school I was always called 'Zepp'.
Another time at Woodwork School the teacher caught me laughing. I was actually laughing at another boy's antics. "What are you laughing at Price?" the teacher exclaimed, and, not wishing to nominate the other boy, I said, "Nothing Sir." He said, "Do you know what they do with people who laugh at nothing; they take them away in the green cart! [asylum vehicle]"
Teachers could sometimes be sarcastic, and it hurt. When young people left school of course the next thing to do was to get a job which, as now, wasn't always easy to do. At that time all the men had returned from the Services after the war and the country was already heading towards a recession.
I tried to get a job learning the painting business with the BCN. Mother knew someone there, but to no avail.
Patridges, who have been mentioned before, had a factory where they made nuts and blots and Flip Flap Lubricators. When mother spoke about a job for me in the factory, they gave me one, operating automatic capstan lathes. I was to learn toolmaking and tool setting for these lathes, but never did although the man I was under, Joe Matthews, said that he would teach me before he left Partridges. I think that if he taught me he could lose his job and he wasn't ready to go, although he was studying for something else. He was a Christadelphian and a St Johns Ambulance officer. I wrote to him a few times after coming to Australia.
In our workshop there were a lot of girls working hand lathes, and they worked on piece work; getting paid for how much they did. On Friday night they always sang, I guess because it was pay night. They weren't a bad lot, perhaps a bit rough, but good-hearted. Perhaps I should mention that by now we had shifted to another house in Ashted Row back near Belmont Row, and got connected with the Chapel there again.
Mother and Winnie had the job of getting soloists for the PSA which were held on Sunday afternoon.
The house was fairly big, three stories with a passage down the middle and a nice big bathroom on the first floor up.
We shared the house with Mr and Mrs Fereday and their family, Phylis, Olive and Frank and it was from here that I left for Australia in 1924.
I am not sure what made me choose Australia, because I was always a bit keen on Canada. I used to go past the Canadian Office as I walked across the city to go work and stop and look at the pictures in the window. Mother used to tell us that our dad was thinking of going to Canada, he a had a nephew there.
Anyway the thought was there in my mind, when I saw this advertisement in a boys' paper that I used to get, saying "British boys for Australia" and "Idle Land for Idle Hands" and so I made enquiries about it.
I must say that at this stage I didn't know much about Australia, except for reading a book on the early history of the country and the gold rush days, but not about the great developments in the country and the growth of the cities.
It is hard to know why I made the decision to leave home at that early age, because I had a good home and family.
Maybe I wanted to be independent, sort of go in at the deep end and make my own way, but one thing I did not realize was that I would be so lonely; with no chance of going home.
So, actually I believe I was very unprepared for what was to come. I guess a man with a wife and family would have thought a lot more about it with his responsibilities.
The 'little brother' scheme would have been a better idea for me in hindsight, as these boys had someone to meet them and take them home and even get them work. I think uncle Jack came out as a 'little brother'.
Anyway, the die was cast and I had to attend a meeting with Australian representatives, and also be examined by a doctor they had appointed in Birmingham. I passed the test, and the doctor said "A boy of fine physique with a tendency to varicose vein in the calf of the left leg."
I think the depression of that time hit England a long time before Australia felt it.
We had to pay twenty-two pounds for our passage and have two pounds landing money.
I didn't have the money, but mother would have found it; when uncle Arthur, an old soldier, used his guile and said, "Pay it back when you get there, they are more likely to find you a job if you owe them money." That's what we did; I paid it all back while at Glen Waverley.
My mother had to give her consent of course, and I have thought since, how hard it must have been for her; but often when we are young we don't think of these things. She said she wouldn't stand in my way.
One thing that I regret is that she didn't live long enough for me to be in a position to help her. Although later, when in Drouin, I did send a bit of money over to her, and also wrote every week as I had promised. I was only getting twenty-five shillings and keep a week.
At the time, some of mother's family suggested that I should join the army instead of going to Australia as I could come home on leave. My mother's family had a lot of connection with the army. As things turned out I believe I chose the better part.
Just a couple of thoughts come to me. We were never allowed bread and butter (margarine) with jam on. We ate bread and dripping (good dripping) and also what was called the best lard with salt on it. It's a wonder we are still alive from what we are told now. Perhaps it was because it was a cold climate and used the fat up.
During the war the food was rationed, no butter and very little jam. The song they sang in Birmingham to the tune 'Little Brown Jug' went like, "Half a pound of sugar and an ounce of tea, four ounces of march-on (margarine) and no bally jam, that's the way the feed us in Birmingham." That was the week's ration per person, and one had to wait in a queue to get it.
I remember mother sending to town to get some margarine at the shop and when I got there, there was a very long queue waiting. As it happened, to get there I took a short cut through the arcade and got a position at the end of the queue, but after a while I noticed the queue carried on past the arcade. There had been a gap left in the queue for people coming through the arcade which I hadn't noticed, so in effect I jumped the queue and received some dirty looks, but nobody said anything (I suppose I was only young).
My trip from England to Australia as a young emigrant in 1924-25.
After everything was in order for me to go, I was notified of the date of sailing and the name of the ship (SS Diogenes of the Aberdeen and White Star Line). Due to sail from London on the 4th of December.
It wasn't a very big vessel, 10500 tons, and was due to sail from Tilbury at 4pm in what was about the middle of winter.
We had bought a large tin trunk and a small one. The large one went into the hold of the ship and the small one into my cabin for use on the voyage.
We were not sure what clothes to pack for Australia, thinking the weather would be hot, which it turned out to be when we arrived because it was the middle of January; the 15th to be exact.
Cousin Arthur came to New Station to see us off on the train to London. We left Birmingham on the 2nd of December for London intending to have a look around London for a couple of days before the ship sailed.
Aunt Mary went with us, because she knew London better than us, having been there when her son, Arthur, was in hospital wounded during the late war. While in London we stayed at a hotel in Tottenham Court Road.
Two things happened there, firstly the midnight express train arrived in London from Scotland and some of the passengers were also bound for Australia as migrants and had been advised the same as I was, to book in at this particular hotel.
Now, there were two beds in my room and being extra careful I locked the door at night unaware that someone else was supposed to use the other bed, until the next morning. In the morning the maid said, "Didn't you hear us knocking on your door last night? Someone was supposed to sleep in that other bed." I slept well in those days and never heard a thing.
The other thing was, on the second night there, in the lounge room, we were entertained by some of the Scottish people and others with singing and an impromptu concert which was very enjoyable. I guess people there felt they were embarking on a new venture and were all of the same mind. They seemed a very happy lot. Aunt Mary, mother, Winnie and I visited several places of note, including Westminster Abbey, where we saw the grave of the unknown soldier, and the monument commemorating the Great Fire of London. We climbed the old stone steps to the top where we got a great view. The steps are very worn owing to the countless numbers of people who have used them.
During our stay in London we also experienced a fog. It was not fog in the usual sense, but hung above the city and all the lights were on like as if it was night time, in the middle of the day.
I think we travelled from place to place by bus or the underground.
Then, on Thursday the 4th of December 1924, the day came to sail from Tilbury and the time came for me to say goodbye to aunt Mary, mother and Winnie from St Pancras Station, and I boarded the train for Tilbury. The SS Diogenes was anchored midstream.
When we arrived at Tilbury, after going through the usual Customs business, we were taken on board a tender and ferried out to the vessel. There they hitched a sort of makeshift bridge to the ship, and we crossed on it to go aboard. I might say that it was a bit wobbly.
When on board our Passports or Certificates of Identity were checked, and with a bit of help from the stewards we found our way to our cabins. Mine happened to be near the Purser's Office, and also next to the dining saloon, which had long tables in it.
There were six bunks in our cabin and five of them were occupied, the sixth being claimed when we reached Cape Town.
The oldest in our cabin I think would have been about 20 years old and the youngest 15. We soon got to know each other. They weren't a bad bunch of lads and we got on well.
We were told that a bell would be rung at meal times, and we would have to make our way to the dining saloon. The first time it rang we boys were the first in, being next to the dining saloon.
What we didn't know then was that if you were on the first sitting the first time, you had to be on the first sitting every afterwards, which of course meant half-past seven breakfast.
I think there were three sittings altogether. Anyway we couldn't have a sleep in, because we had to go a fair way from our cabin to the washroom and of course come all the way back to the dining saloon.
The ship sailed down the Thames about 4:30pm. As it was winter time it was just getting dark so we could not see much.
Next morning we called at Plymouth and I received a letter from mother and a parcel. I can't remember what was in it, just some small thing.
The boat called at Tenerife in the Canary Islands and Cape Town, then Albany, Western Australia and finally to Melbourne. The voyage took exactly 42 days.
It took a fortnight to get to Cape Town from the Canary Islands and a fortnight from Cape Town to Albany and then a further week to Melbourne.
During some parts of the voyage the boat used to roll from side to side. At various times we saw schools of flying fish.
Altogether it was a good trip although many were seasick, especially at the start of the voyage and there were plenty of empty places at the meal table. However most people gradually got used to the motion of the ship.
In our cabin we had a porthole and when the ship rolled one minute you could see water and the next minute you would see blue sky.
If I remember correctly the dining room tables had a small ledge around them.
We did not go ashore at Tenerife, but instead folk from the Islands came around the ship in their small boats to sell their wares. Some even got on board before we were up, but the seamen on the boat put them off by hosing the decks.
While in their boats, if people up on the deck of the ship high up above them threw coins into the water, they would dive in and get them in their mouths as the coins floated down in the water. The catch was that the coin had to be a silver one. I saw a Scottish Highlander put some silver paper around a copper coin and throw it in. Then a native retrieved it and found it was a fake. After he got back into his boat he shook his fist towards the one who had thrown it in.
We arrived in Cape Town early on Christmas Eve 1924 and the town was in a festive mood. We boys walked up to the town from the dock and had a look around.
While there we went into a picture show and when the lights went on we found that everyone else apart from us were coloured folk and making a tremendous noise because there was an exciting film being shown. We thought perhaps we shouldn't be in there, so we left.
When we were back at the ship we saw 'coolies', as they were called, carrying bags of coal on their backs and putting the coal down a chute into the ship. They were going one after the other very quickly and going back a different way to do the trip again and again.
We left Cape Town on Christmas Day at 12 noon, while we were having a poultry dinner. After dinner, when we went back on deck we could just see Cape Town receding in the distance with Table Mountain standing out in the background.
Albany was the next port of call although we did not go ashore, but anchored offshore. A small boat came to take off about 36 passengers who had come to their journey's end.
The ship's small band played 'Auld Lang Syne' which was very touching as these people had been with us for a long time. It was like a family breaking up.
There was plenty of entertainment to keep our minds occupied while on the way.
The first night at sea some talented Scottish and English passengers entertained us in the lounge room where there was a piano. A Scots girl performed the Sword Dance and there was plenty of singing.
The ship's stewards and crew gave us two very good concerts during the voyage, and the passengers gave us two or three concerts. It was surprising what talent there was. The head of the hatchway which was raised was used as a stage. There were also whist drives and on Sunday mornings the Captain held a Church Service up on the First Class deck, and at night a Methodist local preacher held an impromptu service in the lounge with varying degrees of attention.
I might add that we had life-boat drill a few times during the voyage, and my station was no 4 boat starboard side.
That covers roughly my trip to Australia. I arrived in Melbourne on the 15th January 1925, in the middle of summer.
Actually we anchored off Williamstown for the night and we could see the lights on the shore. I guess I wondered what the future held.
Next morning we slowly moved up the Yarra River, which didn't appear very far from one side to the other. However, we worked our way up to Victoria Dock and there disembarked and set foot in Melbourne. We boys hired a horse drawn cab for our first trip up Flinders St to the city.
We went up to Russell St where we were entertained with a cup of tea and so on by what was called the New Settlers League. I guess it was to help make us feel at home in our new surroundings.
The place to look for jobs was near the same place, just a little way from Flinders St. I stayed on the ship for a couple of nights and then got a job in South Gippsland at a small place called Ruby. It was about 70 miles from Melbourne and it took a few hours to get there.
There was a man and his wife and I think about four or five young children.
The country was hilly with a lot of ferns and ragwort, and in some paddocks a lot of dry trees which I found out afterwards had been ringbarked. The boss was in the process of clearing it and sold firewood in Leongatha, which I carted with a horse and dray.
He also kept sheep and I had to help him yard a mob of sheep the first day I was there, on Saturday, as he had some buyers coming.
He told me two things, "Never work in the rain," and that he did not believe in working long hours, but in "working hard." Of course I was very soft after lazing around the boat for 6 weeks, and probably should have adapted better, but that is with hindsight and as I have said previously I don't think I had thought things through before making the decision to leave home. When I received my first letter with photographs in it I felt very homesick. It is a very hard feeling to describe, but of course the boss couldn't understand my feelings and so I didn't get much encouragement.
The wage was fifteen shillings a week and keep. I must say the food was very good, but the accommodation was a slab hut a couple of chain from the house and lined with hessian. The wind whistled through the cracks, but of course it didn't matter being summertime. There was a fireplace and plenty of wood, and a bit of a bunk. Of course that was the usual thing in those days.
My main jobs were cutting ferns and pulling ragwort, but one very hot day I had to thrash some cocksfoot grass seed with a flail.
Speaking of accommodation, there was no toilet near the hut for my use and the boss didn't want me to use the house one because, I found out later, it took a lot of emptying. So he told me to use the bush.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, I guess that I didn't have my heart in the job. I got blisters on my hands from pulling big ragwort along the creek; they were very soft after six weeks on the boat. After the damage was done he gave me a mattock to use.
Thinking back over the years, if I had managed to get settled down properly I would have got on okay with the boss. But he was very quick tempered and one day we had an argument on the way back to work on the hill. One thing led to another and he finally said, "If an Englishmen stood up to an Australian he would get his head knocked off." I replied, "Why don't you try?" He said, "Don't be cheeky," to which I replied, "I'm going," and with that left him half-way up the hill. I went and packed my two tin boxes to take to the station a quarter of a mile down the road. He said, "you can use the horse and dray," but there wasn't much time to get the horse and harness it up. So I said, "No thanks, I'll carry them."
I left because I could see that I wouldn't get on very well with him. To be fair, although I didn't have much time for him when parting in February 1925, he was not a bad man. He would have been a good friend.
As I was leaving him in a hurry on that hillside, he said. "When you get settled down, write and tell me where you get to." I thought about it afterwards and realised that he had had some concern for my wellbeing. Probably if I had gone there to work later, after I had a footing in the country, I would have been able to get on all right with him.
Later when I got to Glen Waverley I wrote and told him I was working on an orchard. He wrote back to me and said he thought the job would suit me. He even asked if I could get a case of apples for him. I wrote and told him that Mr Pudney sold all his fruit at the Victoria Market.
I did have the chance of meeting him one day when on my way back from Inverloch via Leongatha. I didn't take it. Ever since I have been sorry that I didn't make my peace with the man after all the years thinking about how I left him at that time, which had sort of coloured my thoughts towards Australians for a considerable period.
I left Ruby after four and a half weeks. Taking my tin boxes to Ruby station and thinking it would be a long train, I left them at the end of the platform. When the train eventually arrived from Leongatha it pulled in a fair way from where my boxes were sitting. The guard wasn't too pleased as he had to help me carry them along the platform to the luggage van.
When we reached Korumburra the guard came to the carriage where I was and gave me a couple of labels and told me to get into the luggage van and put the labels on. While there, the luggage van and the train parted company and I went back down the line. Of course, what they were doing was putting another carriage on.
I often think of that journey when I have later crossed that railway line at Korumburra whilst in the car, usually going to Inverloch.
After a four hour journey we arrived at Flinders St Station. The trip took a long time as the train was picking up milk cans at all the stations along the way.
It was 9:30pm on arrival, so I left my boxes at a luggage place at the station and made my way to Little Collins St to the Commonwealth Hotel. This had been recommended for migrants to stay at if they needed accommodation. The cost was three shillings and sixpence for bed and breakfast.
In the morning I walked to Russell St to the Immigration Bureau to see if there were any jobs going. I was sent to a factory in City Rd, South Melbourne. It wasn't much of a building, made of corrugated iron.
I got the job at two pounds a week. It was grinding the edges of number plates on an emery wheel. They also gave me the job of staying there all one night stoking the fire. I think it had something to do with casting or molding.
Of course I had to find board and lodging with my 2 pounds. I got it in Cecil St South Melbourne. Mrs Dodds was the landlady. There were four other fellows of various ages boarding there.
One, a Scotsman, was an electrician by trade. He said that after coming out of the army after the war he had walked the streets of London for two years looking for work without success. On coming to Australia he got a well paid job with the Melbourne City Council at twelve pounds a week. He couldn't save money and asked me how to do it. I replied, "Put half in the bank every week and manage on the rest." He replied that he had spent four years in the trenches in France during the war so he was going to have a good time now.
Mrs Dodds had her daughter helping her run the house and when she knew the small wage I was earning she said, "I will let you have it for twenty-five shillings, but don't tell the others."
The old lady told me, when I said I had been working in Gippsland, that was the hardest place to go to work.
We lived upstairs in a terrace house next door to Dr Park who was a South Melbourne cricketer.
This job didn't last long. Just over two weeks later another young fellow and I were put off. The chaps at the boarding house gave me few tips as to where to enquire about work. I recall Sand and McDougall was one firm, and there were others too, but to no avail.
I didn't mention how I got my two boxes to South Melbourne. There were plenty of motor taxis around, they were dearer than the horse drawn cabs. Not being flush with money I asked a Hansom Cab to take me and my two boxes. Of course it was a glassed in affair with the cab driver sitting high above the ceiling of the cab. They sometimes put the luggage on the roof which had a small ledge round the outside to save it from falling off.
However the cabman thought if he'd put my big tin box on the top it might come through the roof, so he put it down the bottom and off we went down Flinders Street, me inside and he up top. Trotting over Queens Bridge and down City Road and up Clarendon Street to Mrs Dodds'. I forget how much it cost.
Speaking about Dr Park, the South Melbourne cricketer, I was reminded of a time when I was speaking to Wally Shillinglaw who lived on the Mizpah Settlement Road. He said that he was born in South Melbourne, and that Dr Park was their family doctor.
Work was hard to find and I got the notion of joining the Australian Navy, so I walked down to Port Melbourne and tried to enlist thinking that I might learn a trade in the Navy.
They asked me my age and I replied, "16 and a half years.' Then they said I was too old to join to learn a trade and to come back when I was 17 and join as an ordinary seaman; then they would fix up about my parents or guardian. I never went back.
I went to various agencies looking at wanted notices on boards at various places. One that appealed to me was a blacksmith striker's job, but it wasn't to be. I was getting short of cash so I had to do something. So, as a last resort I went to the Immigration Bureau in Russell Street and found someone wanted a tall man for picking apples on an orchard in Glen Waverley at 25 shillings per week and keep. I was given directions on how to get there. Take the train to Oakleigh and from there go by bus to Glen Waverley. So off I went full of hope only to be disappointed when I got there. The bus was not a motor bus, but a sort of van with seats in it. It was drawn by two horses driven by a man named Billy Wilson, who fed me with grapes on the way out, while I was sitting up beside him.
We trotted up Fern Tree Gully Road and stopped at Freeman's Store on the corner of Springvale Rd and Ferntree Gully Road and then on to Glen Waverley or Black Flat as some folk called it.
On reaching Waverley Road, and Eaton's Store, I got off and enquired, while standing in the middle of the intersection of two roads, the way to Miss Stuart's place. The driver pointed straight up the hill on Waverley Road where the Police Academy now is. So off I went carrying my new bag which I now had after earlier disposing of my big tin trunk and a few other things at 'Uncles' Pawnbroker in South Melbourne.
I thought then that Glen Waverley was a nice little country place and not far from Melbourne. What a difference now, one wouldn't want to stand in the middle of Springvale and Waverley Roads and ask directions these days.
I duly arrived at my destination and found that an old lady named Miss Stuart was the owner of the 50 acres stretching from Callaghan Road to the Dandenong Creek, down Stuarts Road (now called Shepherds Road). Mr Edwin Pudney was the manager and his wife was the housekeeper.
Mr Pudney's family came from Ireland and his father had been a Major in the British Army. Mr Edwin Pudney had lost an eye in a shooting accident before they left Ireland for Australia and he wore a pad over the eye socket. His brother, a cripple, had a pen shop in Little Collins Street.
One day when Mr Pudney's brother, Harold, and his wife were visiting them, they were also visited by an old Italian couple who were old residents of Glen Waverley, and whom Miss Stuart was very fond of. They were all sitting around the table (I think there was another man and his wife there too.) Anyway, Harold and his wife didn't like Italians and began to say something about them; of course they didn't realize the other folk were Italian.
Mr Pudney tried to give them a tap with his foot under the table to stop their remarks. It was a very delicate moment.
The work on the orchard was very interesting. Mr Pudney and Bert pruned the trees. I gathered up the prunings and carted them away into a bush paddock next to the orchard. This paddock belonged to a Mr Jim Loan who used to come every now and then and cut himself a dray load of firewood. He would have dinner at Miss Stuart's and then take his load home. I am not sure where he lived. Incidentally there are now streets and houses in that paddock.
We also used to catch the pony and ride up to the stable bareback, and sometimes into Loan's paddock, dodging the trees. There was spraying to do and cultivation in the orchard, besides of course eventually picking the apples, pears, and apricots, and a few cherries. We afterwards grubbed out six rows of apricots. Mr Pudney had a Ford truck and took the fruit to the Victoria Market, Melbourne, and also to some shops around Caulfield.
On the top half of Miss Stuart's orchard, at Gallaghers Road, there was a bush paddock with gorse bushes in it. I had the job of cutting firewood one day, with the axe, and succeeded in slicing my foot. Mrs Pudney, being an ex-nurse, cleaned it up and got Bert Hill to drive me to Oakleigh to the doctors. There it was stitched up. The old pony sulked for quite a while after passing the last gateway of each of the places Miss Stuart used to visit.
While I was convalescing, Mr Pudney took me with him on the truck to Caulfield and Prahran delivering fruit. We also went to a football match in Glen Waverley, or The Flat as it was sometimes called. We travelled by pony and jinker.
I received the sum of twenty-five shillings per week and keep. It was later raised to thirty shillings after Bert Hill left.
Folk named Gallagher lived on the other side of Shepherds' Road. They were orchardists and market gardeners, growing a lot of cauliflowers. I was loaned to them sometimes to help cut caulies. It was a cold job on a frosty morning, down by the Dandenong Creek.
Mrs Gallagher's father lived with them. His name was Mr Blood. I used to have to go to their place to get the mail and the old gentleman always liked to have a yarn.
He asked me where I came from and I told him Birmingham. He said he had come from Burton on Trent, England, where they make the beer. Then he said he was born in Victoria six months after his parents arrived in the Colony, which was then ten years old. It was quite interesting listening to him. He said his father had some land, and had men clearing it, but when the gold rushes came in the 1880s they all cleared out and went after the gold. He also said that there were no white children around when he was growing up, so he played with the black children on Dandenong Road. What a difference today, and how I wish I'd asked him more.
Two of his grandchildren lived on Shepherds Road until recently. They were Eileen and George Gallagher. Both have now passed away.
Incidentally, there was a dam on Miss Stuart's property, the water from which was used to spray the trees. We enlarged the dam and cleaned out all the silt. Some warm nights I would go down for a dip.
Getting back to the Methodist Church. The Minister was a Home Missionary from Springvale. Glen Waverley was part of the Springvale Home Mission Station. The Home Missionary was Mr Harry Sunderland, who afterwards was ordained. He is now retired and living in Box Hill North.
I might mention that while at Glen Waverley I first took up the offering at Church. Also I joined the Independent Order of Rechabites, and have been a member ever since.
There were several local preachers who took services. Mr Walls, Mr Ashman, who had a flighty pony, and Mr Tom Marriott. He was driven in a car by his daughter, Kate. I liked to hear him conduct the service as he seemed so much alive and had a great faith. He taught us the hymn, 'And Can It Be', number 371 in the old Methodist Hymn Book. Kate played it and sang it and then we all joined in; Mr Marriott out of the pulpit beating time. He was an Oakleigh Councillor, and was Mayor at this particular time.
One Sunday afternoon he was preaching, and after the service Mr Street introduced me to him, and said, "Here's a pommy for you Mr Marriott." He asked me where I came from and I said, "Birmingham, commonly called Brummagen." Mr Marriot said, "Shake hands, I come from Birmingham, I was born at No. 1 Ashted Row." I replied, "I came from No. 98 Ashted Row." He had been a choir boy at St James, Ashted, where I was christened.
Mr Marriott invited me when next in Oakleigh to call round and see him. He said, "We'll have a talk about Birmingham and the gas works at Saltby."
Although I didn't see him for quite a while, nevertheless, this meeting and conversation helped me settle down no end. Later on I met many old gentleman who had come here from England during the last century, and talking to them made me feel more at home. This also helped to kindle my interest in the history of Australia. Also of the districts in which I lived, and of the pioneer people.
I had a cousin, Anne Humphreys. She was one of a family of twelve, eight girls and four boys. I think that Anne was the fourth eldest. She married Jack Wheeldon who had been in the British Army in the First World War. They had a baby son, John, born about 1920 and when he was a baby they decided to emigrate to Tasmania. I remember them coming to aunty Mary's when I was there, to say goodbye.
After I had got settled down at Glen Waverley I wrote to them. I did not get a reply for some time, and then in about July 1925 Anne wrote to me and asked me whether I could meet them or at least her and the two boys (a second son Charles, was born in Tasmania). They were coming over to Melbourne to board the ship 'Moreton Bay', bound for England.
They travelled over on the 'Loongana' which sailed right up the river Yarra nearly to Queens Bridge. There was no King Street Bridge or Spencer Street Bridge then.
In fact, I just walked across Flinders street to the wharf. She spotted me first and said she knew it was me as I looked like a 'Humphreys' (my mother's maiden name).
I took them to a cafe where we had something to eat. We then had to go to Spring Street to an office where she had some business to attend to.
She did not know Melbourne too well, if at all. Whilst at the office she asked me to look after the two boys. A chap came out of the office and said, "Your husband can come in too." I thought it best to stay outside with the boys.
However, I was surprised that he called me Anne's husband as I was about ten years younger than her.
We eventually we made our way to Victoria Dock. Anne wanted to find out from the Purser of the vessel whether she could stay on the ship for the night, which she did.
I said goodbye to them (Anne wrote to me when the ship got to Adelaide - She had been seasick all the way). That was the last I saw of them until we went to England in 1952. I have never seen John again.
However, I was talking to Col James, who lived in Tasmania and he remembered this little boy starting school because it was a very small school. When I wrote and told John this he asked me to ask Col to write to him. Col wouldn't write, I guess it was a big thing to ask after all those years.
I still correspond with John and Charles. Charles spent twelve years in the Royal Marines including the war years. His brother-in-law, Charles Burnham, who was also in the Royal Marines came to Port Melbourne on the HMS Glory. I understand it was an Aircraft Carrier. He visited us for a couple of days at Neerim South. When we went to England in 1952 we stayed with him and his wife Sue at Bristol.
During my Glen Waverley days I had a day off and went to Melbourne via Oakleigh. I can't remember where I went, but I caught the last train at Flinders Street to Oakleigh thinking to catch a bus to Glen Waverley. But I missed the Oakleigh Station and had to get out at the next station.
I then walked back down the road to Oakleigh, but alas, the bus had left. There was nothing for me to do but to start walking.
Just as I crossed Dandenong Road and started up Ferntree Gully Road, a chap on horseback pulled up and asked me where I was going. I said, "Glen Waverley." He said, "That's where I'm going, hop on behind." I did so thinking it would be better than walking. All went well until we reached Notting Hill Hotel and he said to me, "Hold the horse, while I go in to see a friend." Well, I held that horse for a long time and finally got sick of it so I tied it to the fence and began to walk again. I walked to Springvale Road and along to Waverley Road, but he never caught up with me so he must have had a long yarn in that 'pub'.
Talking of hotels, reminded that my uncle Arthur sometimes got me to go to the Waterloo Arms public house just around the corner from their home. I had to go to the outdoor entrance with a jug. In that 'pub' they had guns of all sorts hanging on the walls. I liked looking at them; hence the name Waterloo Arms.
One night walking home with this jug of beer, I thought that I would have a taste. I thought it tasted terrible and have never had a taste since.
Of course they weren't supposed to serve me but I guess I was big for my age.
I stayed at Glen Waverley until March, 1927 when I decided it was time to leave. Storing my luggage at Alf Mackintosh's, who lived on Springvale Road opposite the old hall, I went to Oakleigh, to say goodbye to Mr Marriott. He was up the road bringing his two house cows down. He said, "Sit down," and we sat on the grass beside the road. He asked me where I was headed for. I said, "I don't know, I might go up country." As a matter of fact I was thinking of having a weeks holiday, but I didn't mention this to him. He said, "My son-in-law up in Drouin wants a man, I'll get the girls to ring up," which he did.
He put me on the train in Oakleigh that night, bound for Drouin. I had first to get back to Glen Waverley to pick up my luggage. The old man didn't let the grass grow under his feet.
And so, I headed for Drouin. On arrival there Mr Marriott's son-in-law, Mr John Sadler, met me in the pony and jinker. Mrs Sadler was Mr Marriott's eldest daughter. Sadler, I learned later, came from Lichfield in England, before the First World War, so we had something in common.
They grew vegetables and sold them in Drouin to the shops. They also grew a great deal of rhubarb. One of the main activities was growing vegetable seeds for sale. Lettuce, onions and carrots. We milked five or six cows by hand and separated the milk from the cream. We then made butter in a little Cherry Churn, and Mrs Sadler sold it to Porter Bros. Store in Drouin.
While with Sadlers, and I stayed there for four years, I went to the Methodist Church and Sunday Schools. It was there I made many friends.
Just as I arrived in Drouin, a new Methodist Minister came to the Church. He was the Reverend William Seamer. He also had a strong influence on my life and thinking. It was through him and his encouragement that I would get up on my feet and say a few words, being of a particularly shy nature.
We had a Bible Class in the Sunday School run by a Mr Alf Gillies. There were about eight girls in their teens and two of us boys, so, of course, we would naturally be a little shy and nervous. However, different ones were asked to write papers on various subjects. I broke the ice by writing one about Easter.
Afterwards I graduated to being a Sunday School teacher with a junior class of 14 boys. This included two of the Minister's sons, Alf and Lloyd Seamer, who were lively enough. I met Lloyd some years ago and he spoke of the old days and how he now had a Bible Class of young people in a suburb in Melbourne. It is nice to be remembered by these people who one was close to in those days long ago.
I was asked to go into the choir, and, although I liked singing, I could not sing high. As I had had no experience in part singing I dropped out after going a few times. No doubt had I been in my own home with a piano I may have persevered as I was able to do later on.
It is one of my regrets that I didn't try harder at that stage of my life.
However, later on I had some good times part singing at Neerim. Moral: "What your hand findeth to do, do with thy might." Use your opportunities!
The Rev Seamer also started a Young Peoples' Guild. A four square programme. Devotional, Social, Literary and Recreation.
We had two teams with two captains to each team, a boy and a girl. I was made captain of one team and Bert Hawking captain of the other. The object was to have the best attendance, the best average attendance, and the best record in the debates. The latter used to attract a good crowd.
The loser at the end of the year used to provide the winner with a banquet at which various toasts were made. It went very well. I made many friends there, some of whom I still keep in touch with, off and on.
While at Sadler's I did much work with the horses. Ploughing and scuffling between the rows of vegetables, potatoes and rhubarb. Pulling rhubarb, cutting onions; lettuce and parsnip seed, and so on.
Mr Sadler and I also went to a few working bees, painting the Sunday School hall. Another time we went out to Drouin West to help cart in Mr Alf Gillies' oaten hay in sheaves (he was sick). There were forty acres of it with three stacks going up at the one time. I was in the paddock pitching the sheaves on to the wagons and so on.
When Mr Sadler was in the Eye and Ear hospital, Mr Tom Marriott came up to help for a few days. We scuffled between rows of lettuces and potatoes. Lightly ploughed between the rows of passionfruit and so on. I had to go in to the Drouin Station when he was going home to bring the pony and jinker back. Along the Buln Buln Road he stopped to give a lecture to a drunken chap who had charge of a draught horse. He was still there when I went back, but I kept going. The old gentleman had a great personality.
While at Sadlers we had a Welsh chap named Stan Reece who sometimes helped us. He came from Red Cliffs and suffered badly with asthma. He lived next door.
Also a chap named Bill Kemp rented a 30 acre farm next door, from Peels. He grew potatoes and milked a few cows. His two young school-aged daughters, Nina and Audrey, lived with him. He came from Yorkshire and when in England in 1952 we visited his sister and his nieces and nephews. He got on well in the depression years as he was so handy at everything: shearing sheep, stacking hay and so on. Later he went to a farm near Narracan Falls and grew potatoes, and then to Sunny Creek Road, Trafalgar, and later still to Terang in the Western District where we last saw him, before he died. We have met Nina once since at Box Hill North.
It was when I was at Rickett's on the other side of Drouin that I walked to Kemps to play draughts. When I got there he was at the neighbours. The neighbour's brother in-law, an ex-boxer, had walked into Drouin to get drunk and had come back to smash the place up. They asked Kemp to stay with them and when I got there they asked me to stay too as a bit of extra insurance. However, when Paddy came back he talked a lot, but did nothing, so it all ended OK although it was the end of the draughts.
While at Sadlers, the young folk at the church went to Stock Road, Drouin West, for a picnic via Mrs Sadler's horses and wagons. While near Hearns Road on the highway a snake slithered across the road between the horses' legs. The boys jumped off to kill it. The road wasn't so busy then.
The bible class also had a picnic at Mr and Mrs Gillies' place at Drouin West. Games outside during the day then tea and games inside. Mrs Gillies also arranged for Jim Hearn to take us back to Drouin in an open town car.
The next time I met Mr Gillies was at the Victoria Market, when I went there from Neerim South to sell some potatoes with Baden Lacey. He had gone back to Bentleigh to run a market garden.
Of course there were plenty of other activities too. We had a picnic to Frankston in Mrs Fallon's truck once, and Stan Basanelo's wife got a beetle in her ear which nearly drove her mad until a doctor syringed her ear and killed it. It was not until the next morning that they got it out.
We had some good Sunday School Anniversary Services llam and 7pm-7.30pm. With piano and organ and sometimes a trombone and violins. Very inspiring.
I also took a class at Sunday School. Three of those boys were POWs in the Second World War: Dave Bertram, George Smythe and Ernie Brough.
One of my pleasant experiences while working at Sadlers in Drouin occurred when one day Mr Sadler had loaded up rhubarb and a few other things ready to take on the cart into Drouin to sell. Three visitors turned up, and I was very surprised to see the man I had worked for on Miss Stuart's property at Glen Waverley; Mr Pudney.
He was driving the truck which we used to load up with apples and pears and so on for the Victoria Market in Melbourne. He had with him, Alf Mackintosh (brother of Ern, Walter and Ken) and Gerald, an English chap who worked for Miss Stuart. They were on their way to see Alf's father who lived at Neerim South, and called to see me on the way. I appreciated it very much.
Unfortunately, by the time they got to Sadlers, which was two miles out of town, they were out of petrol. Alf and Gerald took a tin and went back to Drouin for some petrol, getting a ride with Mr Sadler who was ready to go.
Meanwhile, Mrs Sadler took Mr Pudney and myself up to the house for a cup of tea and a talk. Mr Pudney enquired who owned the land on the other side of the road. Mrs Sadler replied that it was Ned Norton. Mr Pudney said that many years ago he had relatives around Drouin and he used to stay with them.
He and Ned Norton he said, used to ride their horses over to the Old Sale road when there were not many fences in between Norton's and the Old Sale road. That intrigued us, because it was so different when I was there.
All this time whilst we were talking and having a cup of tea. Alf and Gerald were walking back from Drouin carrying a tin of petrol.
The Methodist Church men arranged a working bee to cut firewood to send to the Collingwood Mission.
This used to be a great day, sawing and splitting wood in a bit of bushland on the Buln Buln Road and the Drouin West Road. The ladies would bring some lunch out to us.
While at Saddlers', Mr Saddler and I were doing something with passionfruit seedlings when Mrs Saddler came down from the house to tell me I was wanted on the phone.
The message from the Post Office said there was a radiogram from England, saying, "Mother had passed peacefully away on Friday October 24th 1930. Sending particulars, love Winnie."
It was Monday when I got the news, probably because it was over the weekend and the Post Office was shut.
It was a big shock to me because mother wrote every week and said that she was feeling a bit better. In fact, after I got the message telling me of her death, I got four or five more letters from her. It felt as if I had read the end of her story before I had read the book. She kept saying she was feeling better in each letter. I was due to lead a debate at the Methodist Young People's Guild, but had to withdraw. I didn't feel up to it with the shock of mother's death.
Winnie left our home at 98 Ashted Row and went to live with aunt Mary and uncle Arthur. Their family had all married and left home.
I had four good years at Sadler's and decided to leave. A man who was a teacher in the Sunday School and also in the choir asked me to come and spend a couple of weeks at his place. He lived on an Orchard situated on the corner of the Neerim Road and the old Princes Highway, Drouin West. There are houses all over it now. I accepted Mr and Mrs Edgar Waterman's generous offer and helped pick apples.
These apples, and apples from other orchards, were exported to various places overseas, with their destination stamped on the cases. I noticed some at the Drouin Railway Station marked 'Hamburg'.
Waterman Brothers also grew passionfruit. Of course at this time it was the great depression. While helping to pick fruit we were to see several groups of men going past looking for work. So I was very fortunate to have somewhere to stay and to get good meals.
I had something in common with Mrs Waterman who came from Wolverhampton, England. She told me how they used to go to Birmingham Town Hall every Christmas, where 'Handel's Messiah' was sung. Of course Birmingham and Wolverhampton are pretty close together; only about thirteen miles apart.
Anyway, I didn't stay the full fortnight because Mr Hedley Ricketts drove over to Watermans and asked me if I would go and work for him.
Ricketts grew vegetable seed like Sadlers and had contracts with Law Somner, seed merchant. Mr and Mrs Ricketts had two sons, Hedley, the eldest, and Len, who didn't seem to get on too well with his father. They also had a daughter, Gladys, who was learning singing and helped in the Methodist choir. Mr and Mrs Ricketts also went fairly often to the Sunday night service.
The Reverend Ross Castles was the minister at the time. He started a Young Peoples Guild at Modella. He called on the way there and picked up Gladys and myself and took us along. This was where Gladys met her future husband, Pierre Pochon. The Pochons had a farm down there.
I also took Gladys to choir practice at the Church. Although I wasn't in the choir I managed to be there in time to walk with her home again. Mr and Mrs Awty, who had a house halfway between the town and Ricketts', said they could hear us walking. My long strides and Gladys with short steps. The Ricketts had a tractor, and also horses. Hedley drove the tractor whilst I drove the horses.
Mr and Mrs Ricketts, Gladys and I used to play Euchre some evenings. They also had a player piano which sounded very good.
After I had been there about a year, I was working at the Drouin end of the place when Mr Albert Awty came over to talk to me. He told me of a piece of land on Shady Creek, partly cleared with a house on it. The price was 350 pounds. He offered to take me to Neerim South to see the place. He also offered to go into partnership with me. So, I had my first trip to Neerim South.
I wasn't very impressed with the track into the place, and the land was a light grey soil. Considered poor land. Anyway I decided to make the break.
When I told Mr Ricketts about leaving, he said you will find if you work for yourself you are the hardest boss.
It was a decision that changed the course of my life, and I didn't like leaving Drouin. I had been there five years and had made many friends, and was very friendly with one girl in particular.
However, just working for about two pounds plus keep didn't have much future and of course the depression was on.
It was a good time to start in some ways because everything was cheap. Although, it was the leanest time for me, because I spent a good part of my meagre savings of 250 pounds in paying my half of the expenses. Still owing a bit to the bank.
Mr Awty went off from Drouin with our belongings, plough, harrows, and so on in a spring cart. We also bought another draught mare off a horse dealer in Drouin (his name was Jim Wade). I rode the new horse up to Neerim South. At least rode some of the way and led the horse the rest of the way. It was a slow trip.
The land had a long creek frontage, which was covered in blackberries. It took days to cut them with a fern hook.
Albert was very much the guiding hand in what we did. The first thing was to plough up a cleared paddock, work it up and sow some oats. Then we cut eight to ten acres at the back of the place, near Whitelaws Track. There was a gully on a hill which was surrounded with trees and saplings. The ferns there were six feet high. We cut them ready to burn with the idea of ploughing the land up to grow potatoes. Albert said to me, "There's about ten acres in this gully, deep grey soil. We will plant potatoes on ten acres; get ten ton to the acre and get ten pounds per ton." Easy arithmetic to work out how much. We eventually managed to clear about one and a half acres and got about five tons, at three pounds per ton. After paying freight to Melbourne and agent's fees there wasn't much to spare.
On a cold frosty morning, and they were good white frosts on Shady Creek, there was ice on the ferns in that gully until midday. We went up there at 8am cutting ferns.
We were camping in an open shed, because the old house on the place was occupied for awhile.
I was fortunate in many ways to have Albert Awty with me because I had had no experience in the bush and clearing land. I had mostly worked on cleared farms, although there was a bush paddock at Glen Waverley where we had to fell a tree.
There were no bulldozers at the time. Even if there had been we wouldn't have been able to afford it. All we had was a Trewhella jack, a couple of axes, a crosscut saw, and fern hooks. We had about 40 stumps in this gully getting charred out.
We would dig a trench around the base of the stump and fill it up with wood chips. Cover this over with earth and leave one or two open spaces to start a fire. When the fire got going well we would cover it over. We went around every so often to cover over any places where the fire had broken through.
I remember walking through this gully one night about 10pm and going all around these stumps attending to them. One tall stump we had left about 10 minutes earlier, fell over, so we were lucky it didn't fall when we were near it.
It was a time consuming job, but if you didn't do it the fire underneath the ground would go out. Then it would have to be started again. Sometimes the roots would burn right away.
There were plenty of logs to get rid of. We sawed them up with a crosscut saw into lengths of 6 feet. These were then stacked to a height of three logs. This took a bit of doing, because we only had one jack. When we got the log up so far we had to chock it up with a bit of wood and get a fresh hold with the jack. Sometimes the chock slipped and we had to start again.
Albert also had what he called Government Workers. He got some dry sapling lengths and put one every 6 feet along leaning up against the logs. He lit a fire on top of the log and put the sapling on the fire, and every few hours we had to check them and keep the fire going. With a bit of luck they would gradually burn through the log. Anyway, one way or another we got a bit cleared and I had the job of ploughing it.
It was virgin ground I had ploughed and it was a great feeling. When it was finished it was one mass of bracken fern roots, which took some breaking up.
We cut a lot of saplings and carted, or I should say dragged, them to a site we had selected. Here we built two stalls and a chaff room on the end, laying the logs one on top of the other. Albert shaved off small lumps on the logs with an axe to make them fit more snugly and leave no holes. At the corners he got them fitting well. For rafters he used bush timber and for the roof he stripped some bark off a tree he had felled. This he laid out crisscross fashion to dry.
As I mentioned before, we had grown a few acres of oats on some ground that was cleared when we went there. Ern McIntosh cut them with the reaper and binder, so we had feed for the horses in the stable. We had a hand chaffcutter to cut up the sheaves of oaten hay for chaff.
A little further away we built a small separator room. Unfortunately, both these buildings were burnt down in the 1939 bushfires; the same day that Noojee was burnt out.
We also cleared some land that was partly cleared many years before. We ploughed it up and sowed a few more acres of potatoes.
An old New Zealander helped us dig and bag them at ninepence a bag. He had to sew the bags up, too! He camped in an old shed on the property and looked after himself.
Potatoes were cheap, so we put 10 ton in a pit. Later on I got 2 ton out of the pit and sent them to the market with 2 ton from a couple of other growers to make up a railway truck. I received 2 pounds a ton and, when I got the return from the agent the great sum was ten shillings.
Of course we not only bought seed potatoes but superphosphate as well. We also cut a few acres of cotton bush, or dogwood scrub. Then, during March, burnt it and sowed grass on the burn. In some places the grass grew well. The wallabies certainly liked it!
I also had a few trips back to Drouin and had an invitation back to the wind-up banquet of the Methodist Young Peoples Guild. I rode my bike down. Unfortunately, near Drouin on the Buln Buln road, the bike broke down. I went to some friends' place for a clean up and changed my clothes, which I had carried in a case on my back. Then I walked the 2 miles into Drouin. Had a good time at the banquet and I walked home with the girl I mentioned before. I then had to walk back to Neerim South reaching there just on day break, then finishing off my journey to Shady Creek.
I was glad it rained all that day and we couldn't do much work. By the way, this girl turned me down.
Watching Albert Awty improvise in various ways made me realize what pioneers had to contend with. The ways that they worked made them independent and very resourceful. Also, good soldiers!
Living on the other side of the creek was a family named Cowden. Old Mr Alee Cowden came from Scotland and his wife from Northern England. They had a family of 4 grown-up children. Bob, who was the eldest, I had already met. He had bought a block in the hills at Yarragon. He was in Castles' Hardware shop in Warragul buying a fern hook when Albert and I were doing the same. It was here that Albert introduced me to Mary, the next eldest member who was married and living away. Jessie was home getting ready for her wedding to Hector Fartch, late of Neerim East. Hector was the youngest and looking after the farm. They just milked five or six cows and also had a few acres of prune trees. Hector built a drying kiln to dry the prunes and then sold them round about.
On a few occasions Albert and I walked over to their place and had a musical evening. Mrs Cowden played the piano, Albert the violin, and Mr Cowden the concertina. Very enjoyable. We also went down the creek to Adams' for an evening of music and talk. All good fun.
Anyway, one day Hec Cowden came across the creek to see if I would like to go to the Methodist Bible Class and also the Presbyterian one. So, we walked into Neerim South Methodist Church for my first visit. It certainly wasn't the last. There were a nice lot of young people there. Ern, Ken and Walter Mcintosh, Ella Cook, Enid Cook, Jean Addison, Alice Robinson, Les and Alec Addison. I'm not sure about Ray Moorfield, Lucy Chamberlain, also Lucy and Ruby Mackintosh.
Mr Yourn was the Home Missionary. During his time in 1933, five of the group had their 21st birthdays. Alice Robinson, who had just arrived from Brighton the year before to stay with her aunt (Mrs Addison). Ella Cook, Lucy Mackintosh and Les Addison, also Ray Moorfield.
Mr Yourn wasn't in the best of health, so for some reason or other they appointed yours truly to be the chairman of the banquet; a joint 21st celebration. The guests of honour were seated at a table of their own on the platform where the pulpit stood. I remember old Mrs Hatton getting up and making a good speech, also Rev Pay of the C of E. We had the usual toasts and singing.
Somewhere around this period a friend of Albert Awty, Tom McClumpa, who was known as Tom Mack bought the next block down the creek to us. 113 acres for two pound, five shillings an acre. There was only a bit cleared near the creek. He cleared 40 acres, burnt it, and sowed the best grass seed he could buy. It grew well. Of course there was a lot of cleaning up to do after the fire.
There was a small hut on the place in which Tom camped. He had a bath in it which I was privileged to use, instead of Shady Creek which was pretty cold. He had a wireless, and when the test matches were on in England at night I walked down there to have a listen. Tom had helped us so we helped him a bit too. When Albert Awty had a heart attack it was Tom who drove him to his doctor in Drouin. Albert couldn't drive his own 1926 Chev motor car. I had to take over our place as Albert couldn't work anymore.
This was one of the leanest times I experienced during the Great Depression. I had spent a bit of money getting started on the place. Buying implements and another horse and cows, apart from providing my half of the land money.
George Addison who had the butchers and bakers in Neerim South gave me a job of cutting a load of firewood for the bakehouse. Hector Cowden helped fell two dry trees on their place and I cut it up with a crosscut saw. Then I split it with the axe and maul and wedges.
I walked into Neerim South to get food stuffs, meat and so on, and groceries. When I went into the butchers for a pound of sausages, Les Addison, who was serving, would very kindly throw in a few extra ones. Although things were cheap, such as butter tenpence a pound, ready money was hard to come by. Mrs Addison also gave me casseroles now and then, and I was invited out to a meal on Sunday after Church. People were very helpful. Mrs Cook, Mrs Hollow, and the Heywoods also invited me out.
About this time, one night as all of us were going home after being at the Bible Class meeting, I got as far as the War Memorial in the town. I was going to follow the MacKintoshes down the Neerim East road on my way back to Shady Creek, but Alice Robinson called me over. She was standing opposite the Memorial on the footpath in front of the Coffee Palace. We started talking and have been talking ever since.
I found out later that she called me over because she thought Ern Mcintosh would want to talk to her. Anyway, we kept talking and I walked home with her, as I did many times afterwards.
At this time Mr Stuart Davine who ran the service buses from Warragul, had a small plane. One Sunday afternoon he took people for a brief flight from the top of Ned Kelliher's hill. Just one at a time. However, I had a flight with Jim Addison because our two weights combined only amounted to Les Addison's weight. It cost ten shillings for a few minutes. We flew over our place at Shady Creek and it was my first experience of flying. Les and Charlie Foster paid for my flight.
It wasn't all work and no relaxation. One night a group of young people went out to Ken Mackintosh's farm on McDougals Road. At that time the road didn't connect up with Mizpah Settlement Road and Inglemans Road, it ended up at Ken's place.
Jim Ingleman had built a house out of logs and in it he had a great big fireplace. It was a cold night and Jim had a roaring fire going. We just talked or sang songs. Quite a few of us had walked from Ken's place through the bush to Jim's place.
Another time, a trip was organized to go to Inverloch for the day. Jim Stott and Jim McPhail, two Scotsmen on Shady Creek, had a hand in organizing it. Jim Stott had an old truck and he was to drive us down. There were quite a few of us, Alice and I, Wallbums, Tom McClumpa, also Les and Frances.
It took us about four hours to get down there via Leongatha. The road from Leongatha to Inverloch was very dusty.
We were in our bathers when Tom McClumpa and I started to wrestle. He tried to throw me to the ground, giving me a sudden twist. My bare foot was stuck in the sand and my ankle cracked with a loud noise. It swelled to a big size very quickly. Tom got a taxi and took me to the Wonthaggi hospital. They wanted me to stay in there, but I said I would sooner get nearer to home. So they bandaged it up and made it more comfortable and soon after I headed for home.
When we got to Warragul they took me to Dr Lees' surgery. The old doctor was there. He X-rayed and found the ankle had a crack in it which he could hardly see at first. Then, he asked me how my finances were. I said, "Not very good," so he sent me up to the West Gippsland hospital. I might add that the two Dr Lees had a Private hospital in Warragul.
I ended up in hospital for two weeks. I enjoyed it because I really wasn't sick and the food was very good; better than I had been getting.
Unfortunately for Tom McClumpa he had to, or should I say decided to, milk my five cows and separate the milk for quite some time afterwards. I think he got a bit sick of it, although he never complained to me.
At the time I was in hospital there was a Court case in Warragul over a car accident. Before the Inverlock trip, five of us were going to an IOR banquet at night in Warragul. Jean Addison was driving and Charlie was sitting next to her. I was sitting behind the driver. Alice next to me and Les Addison on the other side behind Charlie. When going down the hill on the outskirts of Neerim South, another car ran right into the front righthand side of us. He went down the bank and we nearly followed. Our car tipped onto its side, at which Les and Charlie got out on their side and stood on the running board, thus preventing it going right over.
In any case the driver of the other car, whose lady passenger had a broken arm, sued Mr Addison. His insurance had run out, hence the Court case. (Mr Addison wouldn't pay.)
Of course, I being in hospital couldn't attend. I believe Les caused a bit of laughter in the Court. When, in reply to a question, "Where were you sitting in the car?" Les replied, "On the near side." When the judge asked which side that was. Les replied. "It just depends from which end of the horse you are looking from!" Laughter in the Court. "Order! Order!," said the judge.
We were milking a few cows at Shady Creek, out in an open yard, separating and selling the cream. The price of butter fat was sevenpence per pound, and a pound of butter, one shilling.
People had bought farms after the First World War and some had bought milking cows at up to 25 pounds each, when butter fat was two shillings and sixpence a pound. They were unable to keep up their payments to the bank and so walked off their farms.
Alice and I saw each other fairly often during this period, and very often on a Sunday for dinner. Although, I remember one Sunday I walked up to the Neerim East Church Service, where Mr Yourn was preaching. Mrs Yourn invited me to their place to tea. I came back with him in the jinker.
I helped Mr Yourn once or twice reading the lesson for him as he wasn't too well. He had Huntington's disease. A very distressing complaint, which caused the sufferer to stagger or sort of lurch along.
One day he was walking down the street near the butchers shop where uncle George was standing. As he more or less staggered along Mr Addison said to him, "Off to the races, Mr Yourn?" As Mr Yourn still kept lurching along he replied, "Yes, Mr Addison, a race to heaven!"
Mr Yourn's son, Alric, also became a Methodist Minister. Unfortunately he developed the some complaint as his father and died fairly young.
He loved cricket and went in the van with the boys to the matches. I was told that if the boys began to swear, Mr Yourn would say, "Now boys, that's enough of that."
He was well respected and at his farewell in the Church, Ken McKenzie made a presentation to him on behalf of the Neerim South Cricket Club.
Mr Yourn's term of two years ended in April 1932 and Mr W. Quick was appointed for the next eventful three years. Before I leave Mr Yourn's years I must say that I had got weaned off Drouin. For a while I went back there during those two years and once or twice was too tired to start walking back to Neerim South. I went to sleep in one or two different places. One night the back door of the Methodist Church was open and I went in and slept on a seat which had a long cushion on it. Another time, the church was locked so I propped a sheet of iron against the shed in the churchyard and slept for awhile before I left for Neerim South.
The third time I camped for a part of the night in an old hut along the Buln Buln Road near the present overpass. It was a hut a Belfast chap used to sleep in when he was working for the folk who had the farm.
I suppose that, having no transport, it was foolish to get into a situation like that, but that was the way it was. I had been at Drouin for five years and had become very attached to the folk there.
I got the idea of sleeping in the church from Mr Pudney, the manager of Miss Stuart's orchard at Glen Waverley. He said that when he was young, after coming to Australia from Ireland with his father and brother, as he didn't like city life he carried his swag and went to the Western District. He told me many a time he slept in a country Methodist Church porch. He eventually got a job on a station belonging to the Chirnside family, a very well known pastoral family. His job was to ride a horse round the paddock with a long handled hoe to cut thistles. I have done the same job many times since hearing that, but without a horse.
I often visited Mrs Yourn years afterward when she lived on the Point Nepean Road, not far from Bay Street Brighton. She went to Male Street Methodist Church, Brighton.
Many years later I went to Male Street one Sunday night and asked the steward where Mrs Yourn sat. He told me, and sure enough Mrs Yourn came and sat near me, with a smile of recognition.
Her daughter, Netty, got a few of us together when she visited Neerim South and tried to get us singing in parts. I guess it was really my first attempt at singing bass, certainly not my last.
While I was in hospital, Alice's grandfather died. Before I go on with what transpired after that, I should say I came out of hospital on crutches. Addisons invited me to stay with them for awhile. It was during the recuperation period that Alice's mother asked me to go to Brighton for a few days with her. I guess it was to look me over, but I had been there before to Alice's 21st birthday party. (It was held at the Brighton Baptist Church where I nervously made a speech on behalf of the guest of honour, Alice Robinson. Vida Andrew and uncle Jack sang a duet 'Moonlight and Roses'.)
Having digressed a little, I will go back to where I was invited to spend a few days at Brighton. I don't remember who took me down there, but uncle George said to me as we were leaving, "I'm glad you're going and not me!"
Anyway I went and spent a pleasant few days. Alice's mother got me to sew up a bag cover to hang in front of the shed to keep the weather off the Pontiac.
While I was there. Jean and Charlie Foster came early one morning and took me down to the beach. Jean had a dip, but not Charlie. I was a bit handicapped as I was on crutches.
One of the boarders at Mrs Robinson's, a Mr Thomas, said, "Are you the star boarder?"
I have recounted how I met Alice, but one thing I omitted occurred after we got to the talking stage. One evening Jean and Charlie Foster took us for a drive out to Shady Creek. They drove into a flat paddock near the road. Charlie and Jean got out of the car and went for a little walk and left Alice and I in the back seat. That night I had the longest kiss I had ever had. I knew at that moment Alice's and my life would be lived together. Here, fifty-six odd years later we are still together.
In my early days at Neerim South I went to Addisons to dinner many times.
On one particular Sunday when I was there they had a man and his wife visiting. He was a sort of a doctor, but I do not really know what qualifications he held.
He was a German and his wife was some other nationality. He was also a friend of aunt Amelia, and she believed he had done her a lot of good physically.
Many of her own family and also one of her cousins, Will Leary, had been treated by him; also aunty Amy. Of course he charged, but I don't know how much. He lived in a big old house in Dendy street Brighton which aunt Amelia eventually bought off him. Uncle George didn't like him much. Perhaps it was because he didn't think it did them much good and he charged too much.
This particular Sunday, we were all seated around the big table, and aunty Amy was waiting to say grace. In walked uncle George, who had a slight limp because of his artificial leg (his own leg had been replaced after losing it in the war). When the doctor saw him limping he said, "What's wrong with your leg?" (probably looking for another customer). Uncle George as quick as a flash said, "The Germans took it." I tell you there was a painful silence for some time.
Uncle George told me another story in his life while I was talking to him one day in his workshop.
After he lost his leg in France during World War I he said he was in the Canadian hospital in London. He was then sent to the Australian hospital in another part of London. I am not sure what the circumstances were, except he had to go to Baker street underground station, where there was an escalator to go down to the platform.
He had not been on crutches before, or only just recently and when he put his crutches on the escalator they were carried away down the staircase. This meant he fell over and brought a few people down with him. He concluded by saying, "That was one of my bad days."
I thought it was a bit hard sending a man across London from one hospital to another after losing a leg in the War.
I think too that Jean and Charlie knew a thing or two taking us there that night!
I'm not quite sure of the date, but Alice and I decided to get engaged and bought a ring in Warragul. I don't even remember how we went in. I guess I must have been walking on air at the time. I think the ring cost about twelve pounds. It was what you would call a depression ring. Alice says we went in by bus, and came back the same way. Tom McClumpa leased my land at Shady Creek and that is how I got the twelve pounds for the ring. Anyway we plighted our troth.
About the time I came out of hospital, Alice's grandfather died. When his will was read he had left Alice some benefits. I didn't know much about it or how much it was.
Anyway, seeing that Alice and I were engaged and that the Addison family knew that the land I had was poor land, (although the same land has been much improved since that time), they suggested Alice not use any money on the land at Shady Creek.
As it happened, about this time Ned Kelliher was a sub-agent for Gippsland and Northern. He was at the Addison's cutting up bread for a ball on their machine when he mentioned that Bill Good's farm of 90 acres was up for a three year lease. He wondered if uncle George knew of anyone who would be interested. "Yes," he replied, having Alice and me in mind. He thought it would be a better proposition for us than Shady Creek.
One Sunday afternoon he came up to the church after Sunday School time and drove us over to Bill Good's place. The three of us walked all over the farm. Uncle George pointed out various aspects as we went from paddock to paddock.
The fences were poor and the pastures were weak. There were six cow bails on each side of the barn, and an old separator room in the middle of the yard.
The kitchen ceiling was blackened with smoke, no bathroom, but a long closed verandah on the back of the house, which also had a stove and a chimney.
Just as an aside, when I eventually took the chimney down I found an old one pound note behind the flashing at the back of the chimney against the wall.
We decided to lease the place at Neerim South, and uncle George took us into Warragul to the G and N office. 'Tich' Skewes was the manager (Bill Skewes' father, the present manager.)
There was a rumour going around that the farm couldn't be ploughed. The farm was in the joint hands of the Closer Settlement Commission (having been a soldier settlement property after the 1st World War) and also the Master of Equity.
The Closer Settlement Commission representative did not want it ploughed and it was left with a lot of weeds growing, wild radishes, and so on. Anyway, uncle George asked Tich Skewes about ploughing it up, and he replied, "Yes I plough the lot."
So we signed the dotted line and I shifted on to the place, with my 5 cows, and 'Blossom' the draught mare. I chased them along the road from Shady Creek.
We then drew up an agreement between Alice and I to go into partnership on the farm. So I shifted my abode from Shady Creek into Neerim South on the 12th July, 1934.
There was at this time a chap named Toynbee, who had a tractor with a big rotary hoe. He was doing work at the back of Les Marrabel's place, near the Tarago River. Uncle George contacted him to rotary hoe 12 acres on various paddocks on the place we were leasing. In one paddock we worked the land up and sowed oats on it. I think, if I remember rightly, Ern Mcintosh came and drilled the oats in. I know he cut them later on with a reaper and binder drawn by three horses. On another cultivated 2 acres we planted early potatoes, which did well. Mr Baden Lacey, who lived next door (where Walter Mackintosh lived later on), had a truck carrying business and he took them to the Victoria Market, Melbourne. I went with him and we sold them for one pound per bag. It was a bit different to 2 years ago; ten shillings for 30 bags.
We thought we were 'made', and as a matter of fact Alice and I bought a lot of our furniture with the returns from those spuds. We bought a lot at Vickerman's clearing sale and Jack Wilson carted them home for us. About this time butterfat rose from sevenpence to ninepence per pound. We also planted some maize to help feed the cows.
Uncle George knew a cattle dealer with whom he used to deal with in his butchery business. His name was Frank Venables. He asked Frank to buy some milking cows and send them to our place. Nearly every Thursday, Warragul market day, he sent sometimes three, sometimes two or one cows out, and I had to get them into the cowyard. It wasn't a very convenient setup from the cattle race to the shed, and the cows being strange sometimes caused a bit of trouble.
Well, I got up to 18 cows and of course had to milk them by hand. Some cows were easy and some took a bit of time. Of course I hadn't been used to milking so many cows, so I took a long time. After this I had to separate the milk and cream by a hand separator. 'Streams of misery'. We had pigs to feed the skim milk to. We also fed pollard and grain. This all took a long time and it was pretty dark some nights when we got finished. There was no electricity and if it got dark before I finished I had to use an old hurricane lamp which I hung up on the rafters in the shed.
The Hydro-Electric scheme at Toronga used to serve both Neerim South and Warragul for light and power, but it broke down fairly often. Warragul went on the SEC early on and Neerim South about 1937.
We did not put in milking machines until three and a half years later. This was because it was not our property and we could not spend money to do the shed up enough to the standard required by the Dairy Supervisors, the Government Standards enforcers.
Les Addison helped me milk once or twice. Alice and Jean came up some times, and helped in various ways.
As 1934 turned into 1935 we began to think of a wedding date, which was to be April 20th.
I should mention that the end of 1934 was very wet and it snowed in December. I remember having a working bee at the Methodist Parsonage one day and it snowed. There were also floods in that year when the river was over the road at Rokeby. Shady Creek was over the Neerim East Road bridge.
The rain continued on into 1935. People would say to us that the weather would be fine for Easter, our wedding day. But it continued to rain on and off during the early part of the year.
Whilst the river was over the road at Rokeby the bridge at the small creek at Bravington was damaged, and so afterwards had to be repaired. During that time it was one way traffic.
Alice and I were standing outside the butchers shop talking when uncle George arrived home in the car. He had been to Warragul and had picked up an old chap on his travels and given him a lift. The old chap had complained about him going too fast, and, being uncle George, that would make him go a bit faster. But it was night time and he had forgotten about the one way traffic at the Bravington bridge until the last moment. He twisted the steering wheel that hard that it came off the spokes! Then he plonked the wheel down in the old chap's lap and said, "Here drive the damned thing yourself."
He drove the rest of the way home with the little short pieces of spokes that were left. That was how he arrived in front of the butchers shop where Alice and I were standing.
I got a chap named Cecil Broughton to come and help about this time. He was English and had been working for Mrs Shields at the Coffee Palace.
One day Cecil had washed the separator parts up and put them outside the separator room on a bench. This bench had small wire netting on it to allow the air to circulate around the parts of the machine. A young Dairy Supervisor came around one day (he probably wasn't as old as Cecil) and, after looking at the parts on the bench, said, "You want to get the lad to do this and that." Cecil was within hearing, and took a dim view being called a lad by someone who was hardly his senior in years.
Years afterwards we bought our blue Ford Zephyr car. When I was down the street one day uncle George came out to have a look at the car. I was telling him that we were driving into Warragul one night just past the Crossover turn-off when a wallaby came out of the bush hopping along side. I thought I would hit it and was thinking about denting our new car. He replied with this story.
When he was driving into Warragul one night he hit a wombat and killed it. He put it into the boot of the car. When he got to Warragul and as there were very few people around, he took the wombat out and sat it on its behind in the doorway of Cromies Corner shop with a pipe in its mouth. (Alice says she thinks it was a cigar.) He was going to the railway station and he said that when he came back quite a few people were standing looking at it. Old Joe Cromie said that he would like to know who did that.
The Wedding date was set; the 20th of April, 1935. It was to be in the Neerim South Methodist Church. The Minister, a Baptist Minister who used to be in Brighton where Alice grew up, was to perform the ceremony on the Saturday evening.
Alice was at her aunts' place and I was to get dressed at Jean and Charlie's house. As I walked down the street on the Saturday afternoon to get dressed I passed Swaffield's shop. Len Swaffield who was standing outside said to me, "Hello, another chicken going to the slaughter!" When he got married later in life, I reminded him of what he had said to me.
For my best man I was going to have Les Addison, and Tom McClumpa as Groomsman. But as it happened, Shady Creek was that high that Tom couldn't get into the church so I had Ern Mcintosh in his place. They both did a good job and got me to the Church on time.
Of course we were waiting a while for the bride and two bridesmaids to arrive. They drove the car onto the footpath at the Church and carried the bride and bridesmaids into the Church, because it was so wet.
I was told about this afterwards, because us three were sitting waiting patiently for Alice and her maids to arrive; Vida Andrew and Sylvia Robinson.
The great moment arrived and the organist, Ina Purdy (Cowden), began playing the wedding march. I don't think that I looked around until Alice was by my side (being a nervous young man).
After the Service and our first kiss as man and wife we signed the marriage certificate. Les and Vida were with us in the vestry for the signing. Later, at our reception at the Coffee Palace, Vida sang. There were a lot of people assembled there, local and some from Brighton and Warragul.
I'm not sure what I gave him to eat, but he survived. Years after he came back with a pick-up baler and baled the hay for me. It cost a lot more than when he worked for me as a lad. (He and his brother, Frank, came and sawed up some firewood when we were in England in 1952).
The man who owned the place was a soldier settler after the First World War. He had only a small equity in the farm and he wasn't very well, being in Mont Park. Because of this, as I have mentioned before, the farm was in the hands of the Closer Settlement Commission and the Master in Equity. Gippsland and Northern were the agents.
We paid 89 pounds a year rent for three and a half years. In 1937 we had the opportunity of buying the place. The Master in Equity asked 26 pounds an acre. We showed the letter to the Commercial Bank manager, and he thought it was too dear, so suggested writing and offering 25 pounds an acre. This we did and the Master in Equity agreed. So, we approached the bank manager in order to obtain a loan to buy the farm. He did suggest writing another letter, but we thought they may withdraw the offer if we refused to pay 25 pounds per acre. We got a loan of 1,000 pounds from the Bank, with a bit of pushing, and I spent quite a few times in the bank manager's office afterwards. Our income wasn't very big at this time.
Uncle George, who by this time had an estate agent business in Neerim South, took us to see two other farms. One was at Neerim Junction, with 10 acres of potatoes on it. The price was 29 pounds per acre. He also showed us Collin's farm, which Les Johnson bought later. That was also 29 pounds an acre. As we were settled at Neerim South we thought it best to buy there. Of course by this time we had been married over two years.
In 1936 Tom was born and I took Alice to the old Neerim hospital in the pony and jinker. He was a lovely baby and the doctor who was there at the time, and had no children, would have liked to have kept him. When Tom was a toddler I made him a rocker from a box. He would sit in his rocker in the cowshed whilst we were milking the cows, just rocking away, I guess it's no wonder he is not a great patron of cowsheds. Although, when Tom was 18, Les Johnson asked if he would like to be a herd-tester, he took the job on and got on very well, learning in the field.
The old house, which was so empty when I first went there, had no proper bathroom and no hot water laid on. We had to boil the copper for hot water for a bath. This changed gradually after we were married in 1935. We take such a lot of these things for granted these days.
There were no washing machines. The washing was done in a copper and also by rubbing the clothes up and down on a sort of corrugated board made for that purpose. We also had a light in the kitchen hanging from the ceiling. It was fuelled by petrol, and came I believe from the Kings Arms Hotel in Neerim South, via uncle George. It was a very good light.
We didn't have a fridge, and relied on a Coolgardie safe to keep the butter and meat in. It was hung in the shade outside. It had hessian sides and a tray on the top in which water was placed and had pieces of cloth in the water in the tray. These hung over all sides of the safe and the water dripped down the sides of the safe, thus keeping things inside cool. A far cry from the modern fridge.
There was a wood burning stove, which had been taken out of the kitchen because the chimney smoked. The ceiling of the kitchen was all discoloured because of the smoke. There was a long closed-in verandah that had been built on the back of the house with hardwood weatherboards, no windows, just a door. There was a chimney there too, and the stove which had been taken out of the kitchen, into the 'lean to'.
We shifted the stove back into the kitchen and I think put another length of flue pipe onto the stove which stopped it smoking. The ceiling was that dirty with smoke that Charlie Foster who was going to paint it had to use caustic soda to get the dirt and grime off. It was a big job.
We made a temporary bathroom on the south side of the verandah. Just a makeshift bathroom, screened off with curtains. Not very private, but I guess we managed somehow.
I must go back to just before we were married. Alice and Vida Andrew, who was to be a bridesmaid at the wedding, came up and cleaned up the house. They put up new curtains and so on, and arranged the furniture we had bought so that it would be ready for occupation when Alice and I got back from our honeymoon. Our honeymoon lasted one week which was spent at Emerald. We came down from there on the Puffing Billy trip to Melbourne, and onto North Brighton. On the 25th April we saw the Anzac Day March. It was a big march with about 25 thousand men marching, all from the First World War of course.
I must mention that we had no wireless for a few years and of course TV had not been heard of. We never had a car until Nana came in a little Morris from Berrigan.
I shall never forget what a thrill it was when we got the power on late in 1937. It was good to be able to switch the light on in the cowshed as well as having milking machines. The first machines we got were called 'Bloom' after the man who had invented them. Unfortunately they were "no blooming good" and we changed them for 'McDonalds' make. They had a place in Richmond and my old mate from England, Jim Walters worked there. This was unknown to me until years later.
Of course at that time there were no such things as septic tanks for toilets, at least not to my knowledge, and most people had toilets which were known as lavatories, dunnies, outhouses or various other names.
When uncle George's older brother was out here from England, he was at our 25th wedding anniversary party, and he asked Eric Heilbronn where the 'backhouse' was; that was a new one on me!
I was not involved in many court cases, being a law abiding 'bloke'. However, after moving to Neerim South from Shady Creek (I still had land out there), I had pulled the old house down and Ern Mcintosh and I had carted the timber in to Neerim South and used it to build pigstys and so on.
There were a lot of blackberries growing around the creek. The 'powers that be' used to send a registered letter each year telling us to cut the blackberries within three weeks of receiving the notice.
As I was very busy on the farm at Neerim South I asked a chap who lived on a place further down Shady Creek to cut them. He agreed.
One day the Noxious Weeds inspector turned up with his assistant while Cecil Broughton and I were milking. He said, "You have land at Shady Creek with blackberries on it?" I said, "Yes, and I have engaged Mr Buckley to cut them." He replied using some pretty strong swear words, "That Mr Buckley has plenty of his own to cut."
The upshot of this was that I got a summons to appear at the Neerim South court on a certain day. I found out there were seven of us called to account. We were all from Shady Creek and most of us on some of the poorest land.
At the same time there were lots of blackberries on the roadsides, and one behind the court house about four foot high. But, of course we only had to answer for the blackberries on our place.
The little Courthouse was packed on the day of the case. When my turn came to answer the charge, I pleaded guilty. I found out later I got fined a few more shillings for my trouble. Never plead guilty unless advised by a lawyer to do so, because if you do you can't be given the benefit of any doubt. I said to the Magistrate, "The act says cut the blackberries within three weeks of receiving the notice, and keep them cut." He replied "Cut them, keep them cut and destroy them." I said, "If the Act will tell us how to destroy them, we will." He said, "Convicted, fined thirty shillings and so much costs."
One person who was convicted said when he passed the inspector, to pay his fine, "Next time you come to Shady Creek bring your bathers."
Tom Owen, when he was questioning the inspector's assistant and trying to jog his memory said, "You know, that day when you had your girifriend with you?" It caused a ripple of laughter around the court
The irony of the day, was that Jim Evison, who lived on the main road Neerim South, and who was a good farmer, mowed the blackberries and rubbish along the roadside. He was prosecuted for cutting down a very small sapling that had made it a bit awkward to mow around.
He was fined so much for cutting the sapling down and so much for the bit of firewood it contained.
George Addison said that if we had all clubbed together and got a solicitor to represent us, we would have all got off.
I actually convicted myself by pleading guilty, although all my blackberries were cut down by the time of court case.
Dan Kelliher brought the matter up at the next Show meeting; about picking on a few like that, when there were blackberries all over the district.
I might mention in passing that the old. Courthouse was the one that was used in Brandy Creek in the early days. It could have told some interesting tales of the old days.
Two people got off that day as they swore on oath that they never received the registered letter.
I found out later why the Inspector picked on us. Tom Mack had his creek frontage very clean. One day when the inspector came along he said, "You fellows are just a joke, look at all the blackberries along Shady Creek." I guess the Inspector didn't like being called a joke.
On the 28th August 1936 the old grandfather clock arrived from England. Winnie had sent it out to me because it was to be kept in the 'Price' name, if possible. It was well packed in a long box, and the only thing that was broken was the pendulum. I later got the local garage owner Harry Elliot to weld it.
Our neighbour, Baden Lacey, who was a carrier brought it up from Melbourne, and charged ten shillings for doing so. He told me he had to sign papers at the Customs Office to say it was second-hand.
It cost Winnie 5 pounds to send; and my uncle Arthur had something to do with the packing of it. We never asked Winnie to send it, but were very pleased to get it and get it going, which it has done ever since. At the time of writing this, it has been in Australia for just over 56 years
Baden Lacey carted most of our cattle or pigs to the Warragul saleyards, and also brought back the stock or pigs we had bought.
We had to get a ride with someone if we wished to go to Warragul and I have gone in sometimes on the back of Bill Anderson's truck. He carted cream to the Warragul butter factory.
Baden Lacey's elder brother, Bill, was a pig buyer for Huttons. He came around the farms buying bacon pigs. He was a very good judge of the weight and quality of a bacon pig and bought some off us at one time, and also off a neighbour Bill Garland who lived next door to the Neerim South hall. We had to drive these pigs down the road to the railway station and put them into a yard ready to be loaded in to the railway truck. They were not the easiest things to drive.
There was a saleyard near the Hotel in Neerim South where cattle sales were held every so often by the G and N. Also one at Neerim Junction where sales were conducted by Richard Skewes and Son. These saleyards were closed with the advent of motor transport when it became easier to transport them to Warragul and Dandenong, where more buyers attended.
Actually Albert Awty and I bought our first three milking cows at the Neerim South yards. I think the tennis courts replaced them.
Uncle George bought a small black and white heifer for us there for 3 pound 10 shillings. We called her 'baby'.
In 1934 the top priced milking cow was bought for us in the Warragul saleyards for the large sum of 6 pound 15 shillings.
Our potatoes were transported by rail to Melbourne. During the 2nd World War there were two or three trains a day going down the line past our place carrying potatoes and timber.
The only time a passenger train was run during our time was in 1953 when the Queen visited Warragul - A special train was run from Nayook and it was packed with people. It was quite an experience for us.
Getting back to farm matters calves were not worth anything to sell. Most calves were killed, and skinned and the carcases boiled in a big boiling pot in the yard, and fed to the pigs. We got about two shillings and sixpence for the skins.
It cost more to send calves to Warragul plus agents fees than it was worth. In fact some folk got a bill for carting as the calf didn't make enough to cover costs.
Later on we kept a few sheep in the yard and killed one every couple of weeks. I had not had any previous experience of killing and dressing sheep and it was fortunate the first time I tried it Les Addison, who was a butcher, turned up to visit us and showed me how to do the job. I think he said that when he was working that he could skin and dress one in three minutes. I improved but not that much. Les was a big man, but very quick in his work. He told us that when he was a POW in Austria the Germans got him to skin a horse.
There were a lot of other things that happened in 1936 and 1937 but I have to push on. I noticed on reading my diary for 1938, early in the year the church collection was only a few shillings and amongst it was a bad one shilling coin. It could have been put in by mistake! I hope so. Also the IOR seniors had a cricket match with the Juniors. I didn't put down who won. I suspect it must have been the juniors.
On the 28th of March, we all went and tin-kettled Ella and Walter Mackintosh. This was an old custom. When people got married and moved into their home, without any warning friends would surround the house. At a given signal they would rattle tins and cans and anything so as to make a huge din. The usual thing then was to invite the folk inside for a social evening, and everyone had an enjoyable time. Although one old chap told me years before that one time they had tin-kettled a couple, they were not invited in. The young men in the group got on the roof and put a bag over the chimney. This, of course made the room very smoky and the couple finally opened the door. The last one I think we went to was Steve and Arthur Heyward, after the war.
Elsie and Jack brought Douglas and Marion to stay for a week. During that week, on Thursday, 21st of April, I took Alice down to the hospital and our second child was born. There was great rejoicing in the fact that we had a daughter. We were going to call her Rosemary, but the Methodist home missionary's wife had just given birth to a daughter and had chosen to call her Rosemary. We changed to Doreen Ruth, two nice names. Her mother's second and her grandmother's second name too.
The wife of the minister (Hedley Phillips) had borne a son, Barry Charles, previously. Sadly on the first night at home, after being in hospital for 12 days, the baby died. It was a very distressing and sad time for both the parents. I shall never forget the short service conducted in the front room of the old Methodist parsonage. The tiny wee coffin, covered on the outside with a blue silky material. Just three carloads of us went to the Neerim Cemetery. Ern Mcintosh carried the coffin under his arm. He was visibly upset. Hedley Phillips, who was a concrete worker before entering the ministry, made a grave stone out of concrete. A very sad time.
Incidentally, Hedley's sister, Florries, married Lawson Swaffield.
I drove aunty Alice and aunty Amy to Brighton. Got up at 4am and milked the cows before heading off. We arrived at 9:30am and, after going to the Brighton Baptist Church for Doreen's dedication, arrived back home 20 minutes before 6. I guess I milked the cows. Tom had been dedicated at a service earlier on.
We have now got to 1939. On Jan 8th I went to Crossover to take the service, and to Neerim in the afternoon. It was hot and very smoky all around, and there was no service held at Neerim.
Next day we were carting hay at Ern Macs. On the 10th January it was still smoky and hot. We had the lights on in the middle of the day. The tank on the north side of the house was empty, so I cleaned it out. It was too hot to do much. The next couple of days it was also hot and the wind got up and the empty tank was blown off the stand. Elsie, Douglas and Marion were staying with us. On the 13th January I took Douglas with me out to have a look at the place on Shady Creek. When we got out to our place a fire was burning on both sides of the hill.
On the top of the hill, Albert and I had built two stall stables and a chaff room with logs, and a dairy a little way over. The fire was just creeping up on one side, but burning a bit faster on the other. There was not a great deal of stuff to burn, so it wasn't a fierce fire. There was no danger to Douglas and myself, because there was a clean paddock down to the creek. That was where we headed for. Unfortunately for me, whilst looking at the fire my straw hat blew off into some embers left after the fire had passed. The rim of the hat was burnt. When we eventually arrived home, Alice wondered what had happened to us.
Anyway. Douglas and I went down to the creek. While there Hector Cowden came across. They lived on the other side. As we were standing talking a couple of foxes came out of the bush all singed with the fire.
Hec Cowden said he was going to see how Ken Mackintosh was getting on. He arrived in time to see Ken's house go up in flames. He and Ken had to get into a concrete dam which Ken had built some time before. I might add that they were throwing water over the house and the bushes around it. In between the house and bush there were rows of green passionfruit 2 to 3 chain long. The wind was so strong it drove the fire along. There were also green peas between the rows of passionfruit.
Ken afterwards received a tent, I think from the Lord Mayor's fund which had been established. The church men also had a working bee to help repair the boundary fence. All this happened the same day as Noojee was burnt out.
Another sidelight to the bushfires was that people that were brought from Noojee and were billeted at the Neerim South Hall. Whilst there they received drops in their eyes that had been badly affected. The Red Cross folk did a great job.
Joe Stock, Sylvia's husband who was with us at the time, used Alice's mother's car to ferry some folk down to the hospital to get attended to.
During the day Ken Sholl, the Methodist Home Missionary stationed at Noojee at that time, came down to our place on his motor bike. His eyes were also very smoke affected. I can visualise him now, lying on our sofa with his face turned away from the light. He couldn't stand the light in his eyes.
He said that he and some others spent six hours in the Loch river, with their motor bikes. He had lost everything when the little Methodist Church on the hill was burnt. He had camped in the back room of the Church and had lost all his books. When he left for Melbourne the next day we had to give him a bit of cash because he had no money.
The Methodist Home Mission Department sent him back to Noojee later to help administer the relief that was sent in.
It was an ironic twist of fate when the last time that Pastor Ken Sholl came to our house, before the fires, was to take the night service at Neerim South. He came to our place to tea, and when he arrived it was hailing and cold and he was sitting in front of the fire warming his hands.
To make matters worse for people who lost their homes at Noojee, the rain came down soon afterwards.
On the following Tuesday after the fires Jack brought Alice's mother here and took Elsie, Douglas and Marion home.
During the year we were busy with our farm work and house work. We went to Church regularly, and Sunday School on Sunday afternoon. I taught a class as did Alice for sometime. Mr Heyward was the Sunday school superintendent. After he retired I took the position on.
The Presbyterian and Methodist Sunday School always held their picnics together. Usually at Shady Creek, but later on at other places. When the Reverend Hugh Girvan became Rector of St Johns, the Anglican Sunday school joined in. Later on, it became a large affair with the Neerim. Noojee, Neerim East and Buln Buln Sunday schools all joining in.
We had a committee, of which I was the chairman for all the time I was Superintendent. This committee met some time before the picnic date and arranged all the details. The races to be held, how much food was needed, and the cutting of the sandwiches. The latter was done at the Neerim South Methodist Church the morning of the picnic. I think that the largest number of loaves we did was about 20. The butcher donated the meat.
The ladies also brought cakes. The largest number of children who attended was about 200. Games were held in the morning and after dinner various kinds of races were held. Money was used for prizes. Small amounts, a shilling, sixpence and threepence, until a minister came along and he said that by giving money we were making the children professionals!
Towards the end of the day the children were all lined up and were given a banana and apple each or some other kind of fruit. That's when we were able to make a rough count of the number present. Of course it wasn't to easy to be sure because some of them would get on the end of the line for a second helping.
In the earlier years before the picnic became so big, Jack Swaffield of the local store or sometimes Joe Gapes, a local cream carrier, used to take the children from the church to the picnic place. They were transported on the back of the truck seated on pews. That was stopped later on as they were not licenced to carry passengers. Then the children went in cars which were becoming more common. They were good times and a lot of fun as well as hard work in the preparation, but everyone helped.
Joe and Sylvia Stock left and went back to Melbourne. Joe was a carpenter and came up here and worked for Charlie Foster (Joe was unemployed in Melbourne, that is why he was here.) He also helped me, and was the one who we employed to pull down the wall between the kitchen and the passage in the old house.
Well, the year rolled on, with us doing the usual things and going to the usual meetings, one of which was the hospital committee.
On the 3rd September 1939. I had been to Crossover and taken the service there. A chap named Ron Teale, who was a friend of Mr Heyward took the service at Neerim South at night. After coming home from church that night (it was 8pm Australian time and llam English time) we heard the Prime Minister Robert Menzies say, "We are at War with Germany." These words were to change the lives of so many people.
Incidentally, Ron Teale whom I have mentioned, went to New Guinea as a missionary. He left and got back to Australia in an open boat when the Japanese invaded that Island during the War.
About a month after on the 4th October we got news from Rosalie Anderson, who lived across the road, that Bill Lacey had been killed with three others in a level crossing smash at Yarram.
Anderson's had the 'phone on, and very few others did. They had been rung and told about the accident so they could tell the Methodist Minister. He in turn would be able to tell Bill Lacey's two brothers and sister what had happened. The two brothers lived at Neerim South and the sister, Mrs Jack McKenzie, lived on McKenzies Road, Neerim East.
Anyway, Walter and I were putting a fence up and we told Baden and Os Lacey what had happened. We then drove to McKenzies and fortunately met Jack and so told him. He was able to break the news to his wife. She was very upset and asked us how we knew; sort of in disbelief. Apparently Bill was at their place the night before singing hymns, and asked them especially to sing the hymn, 'Blest be the tie that binds'. The Laceys were very good singers. One of Jessie's daughters came along and confirmed what we had been told, and then she finally believed. It was a very sad experience for them and for Walter and I. But, of course, life goes on.
By this time men were joining the Army and the Airforce. 1939 soon turned into 1940, and on the 1st of March our third child, David John, was born. He was a big baby. The sister at the hospital asked Alice what she was going to call him and Alice replied, "David." Sister said that name was appropriate because it was St David's day, patron saint of Wales. He was born at 7 pm and registered at Neerim by old Mr Joe Callow. He was the Registrar and was a beautiful writer. Walter Mackintosh went with me because their eldest daughter, Esther, was born on the 29th February, the day before David. She was registered at the same time.
Early in 1941 there was a big meeting in the hall asking farmers to grow flax for the war effort. It, or some portion of it, was used for making parachutes. There were a lot of people there and many did grow flax. I put in about two and a half acres in what we called the 'bee paddock'. It was called this because of the hive of bees in the blackwood tree.
It grew very well, but unfortunately also grew a lot of weed called 'fat hen' with it, which was almost as tall as the flax. This meant that even if we could have got a reaper and binder we couldn't have used it because the weeds would have been bundled in the sheaves with the flax. We decided to pull it by hand, but we still had to bind it into sheaves.
Walter and I began to pull it, but it was a slow job. After church on Sunday morning Walter said to the men that were there, "Who would like to put a nail in Hitler's coffin." I explained about our pulling the flax. We had quite a few men come; Mr Heyward, and Arthur who at that time had not yet joined the Airforce to become a pilot. Jim Addison, Ken Mac, Mr Cook and probably others. We finished the Job and Harold Renton, our milk carter, took three loads to the Drouin Flax Mill. I think we received about 5 or 6 pounds per ton for it.
'Tiny' Renton, as he was called because he was a big strong man and had been, I believe, a champion boxer in his battalion in France in World War One, was driving. We had the first load of flax ready to go by 4:30pm when Alice brought us down a cup of tea. The load was tied on with rope and when we got to the gateway, which was on sloping ground, the load looked as though it was going to tip over. 'Tiny' gave me a knife and said, "If the wheels of the truck start lifting off the ground cut the ropes and let the load go." We got through that gateway losing a few sheaves and had trouble at the next one, losing a few more.
He was heading to go through Walter Mac's place to get to the road, but had to go across another sloping paddock. Once in Walter's he would be right. He asked "Could you get your horses?" His idea was to tie a rope diagonally from one side of the load to the other then hook the end of the rope to swingle bars which were held by chains from the harness on the horses. The idea then was to drive the horses at an angle from the truck to try and tilt the load back to keep it in an upright position.
Unfortunately the horses were pretty 'fresh'. To make matters worse there was a bit of a rattle in the engine of the truck, and other complications, which frightened the horses. The plan failed and we lost a few more sheaves and nearly lost the horses.
We eventually got into Walter's place and level ground. Ella made us another cup of tea, and although it was hot, I don't think it touched the sides when 'Tiny' drank it.
He finally left Walter's for Drouin at 10.30 pm. He never said a word out of place; a very patient man. He said to me later, if we hadn't lost a few sheaves off the load coming up the paddock it would have been the biggest load that had ever been on the Drouin Flax Mill Weighbridge.
He and his brother Frank, also a big man, used to work at Porter Bros. Store in Drouin. They stacked bags of wheat and pollard and so on to the roof of the shed. I said to him one day, "You must have been worth two men at Porter Bros. Store." "Yes, Harry," he said, "but they didn't pay me two men's wages."
After David John was born there happened to be a Baby Show in the Neerim South hall, probably in aid of some war fund, or Red Cross. Alice entered David in the section for the heaviest baby and won 1st prize which I think from memory was a cup.
However, Alice was a bit deflated when our resident doctor, Ruby Townsend, said that she didn't approve of having a section in the competition "for the heaviest baby'. She said a baby was better off by not being too fat. Incidentally, David as a baby was big and still is. I don't know what happened to the cup.
Mum's cousin Alec Addison had joined the Air Force, and Les, his older brother, had joined the army. (I was just reading in the Warragul Gazette in their column, 'Looking Back Fifty Years', a piece where it said 'News had just been received by Mrs Alec Addison that her husband had gained his commission in the Air Force, and he ranks as a Pilot Officer." It went on to say that he is the second Neerim South lad to have qualified. Hubert Sheills was the first.
Hubert was the son of an English lady who ran the Coffee Palace at Neerim South for some years. She was in charge when Alice and I were married and had our wedding breakfast there.
There was about 20 acres of land with the Coffee Palace and Mrs Sheills had an English chap working for her to help look after the property. He looked after the big vegetable garden which was about where the Chemist Shop is now. There were some trees in the paddock and she wanted them cut down. I don't know for what reason, but she asked me to do the job. She said that Cecil Broughton the man working there was English and wouldn't have any experience in felling a tree. Evidently she thought I had! In the end someone else did the job.
I might add while talking about the Coffee Palace, that every second Saturday morning the dentist came out from Warragul and used a room there to pull teeth or do anything else that was required with teeth.
I walked three miles from Shady Creek one day to get a tooth pulled. It took the two dentists a long time to get the tooth out. They took it in turns to have a go and at last it shifted. After this I had to walk back again to Shady Creek. It was not a pleasant experience. My head was going back and forth all the way home.
I have gone back and forth a bit over the years in these memories; that is because one incident reminds me of another and so it goes on.
Writing about dentists reminded me of Mr C H Edwards, another Warragul dentist. Ruby Mackintosh gave me an old Methodist Spectator dated 1902. In it I noticed an advertisement which read, C H Edwards Dentist, Warragul.
When I went to Mr Edwards to get something done to my teeth, I asked him whether that was his advertisement so long ago. He said, "Yes, that was me." He then spoke a lot about the old days when he and Dr Hayes drove to Neerim and Noojee in a buggy. When they got to various places they would say, "What do you want, doctor or dentist?" Mr Edwards said he had pulled many a tooth by the side of the road, and then washed his hands in a dam.
Another story he told me; one afternoon when he and Dr Hayes had been to Noojee and were on the way back, it was very cold and snowing at Neerim Junction. They were so cold that when they reached Neerim South they called in at the Kings Arms Hotel and had something to drink. Whilst they were in there the two horses in the buggy took off and went down the hill. I guess heading for home. Unfortunately, there was a tree somewhere on the road and one horse went one side and the other horse went the other side. Apparently the horses were alright, but the buggy was wrecked.
He didn't say how they got back to Warragul but they did get back that night. Dr Hayes came around the next morning to see how he was. Interestingly, they had both been sick all night and agreed it must have been something to do with what they had to drink at the Kings Arms the night before.
Mr Edwards went on to tell me that they were constructing the railway line at Neerim South at the time, and there were quite a lot of navvies (rough chaps) working on it. The hotel had a pretty potent brew to cater for them. Evidently, Dr Hayes and Mr Edwards got some of it and that's what made them both sick.
Dr Hayes suggested to Mr Edwards that they should go back to Neerim South and make them throw the stuff out.
As you may imagine, I used to like talking to the old men about the 'early days', as they called the times of their early life.
Mr Charlie Moyes original home was just over the creek from our place. He spoke to me of the time his father selected land here. He said he was 12 years old when they came here. I think it was in the 1870s. He told me it was a 'rough joint' (to use his expression) in those days. His brother, who was in Melbourne, became sick. His mother brought him to Neerim South to look after him.
While he was here, he went for a walk and got lost in the bush. They were about to go and look for him, but he found his way back home by following the blaze marks cut in the trees by surveyors. They had surveyed the boundary line between Moyes block and what afterwards became Dan Kelliher's place. He said it was only as far away as where Mackintosh's is now.
Mrs Mackintosh spoke of having cow bells on the cows, so that they could find them in the bush on their 50 acre block of ground. Also, of Mr Mackintosh doing outside work with his horse and dray to get some cash, as well as clearing his own place.
When Tom was born in the old hospital in February, 1936, I went down one evening to see Alice. While there I met an old man on the verandah of the hospital. Although he was unknown to me at the time, and I don't think I ever met him again, he started talking to me about the old days.
I found out later that he was Mr Francis Carly Mapleson. I was very interested in what he had to say.
He said that in the early days he had bought fifty acres off the back of Bredin's selection. He paid five pounds an acre for it and it hadn't had an axe in it. Whereas, Bredin bought it at the selection price of one pound an acre.
It was hard for me to realize it was once bush because it was all cleared land with grass on it when I first saw it.
In fact his son, Mr F J Mapleson offered to sell it to me one day in Warragul. He had heard we were looking for a place, which we were at the time.
Albert Awty, my partner on Shady Creek, told me that there were three Frank Maplesons. He called them old Frank, middle Frank and young Frank.
I eventually met them all, at one time or another. I remember the youngest Frank at some function singing the song 'The Hymns of the Old Church Choir.'
I also found Mr William Mackintosh very interesting to talk to. He told me that when he left Scotland he promised his father that he would go home in ten years, although I'm not sure about that. He carried out his promise, as a man like Mr Mackintosh would, but money wasn't so plentiful in those days and he had his wife and children to think of.
He told me that he had enough to get up to the North of Scotland from London and back again. He also said he didn't go ashore at the Ports of Call on the way over because he couldn't 'treat or shout' the other chaps in the cabin if they 'treated' him. The only money he spent other than that which was necessary was to give sixpence to a beggar in London.
He did say that Mr George Notman offered to lend him Fifty Pounds, but he said he didn't want to go to the bottom of the sea leaving his wife and children with a debt. A true man, a gentleman and a good man.
I have digressed quite a bit.
We have got up to the war years, which saw petrol rationing. I can't remember how much petrol we were allowed each week, but I know it wasn't very much. Of course, as far as we were concerned we only used it for the car. We had no tractors or machinery that required petrol except the pump engine on the creek.
During the war we sent food parcels to our relations in England. They were very pleased to receive them. The Methodist Ladies Guild also sent parcels. Alice was given the names of some of the recipients of these parcels.
Years later, during our trip to England, we were at High Wycombe staying with Rose West (Nana Robinson's cousin). Her daughter-in-law, Olwyn, drove us to a town in Buckinghamshire, called Aylesbury, where one of these folk lived. Unfortunately when we got to her home she was not there, but her father was (he had lost a leg in the first World War). She had the afternoon off from work; the shops closed on Wednesday afternoon instead of Saturday afternoon. She had decided to go to the pictures. Her father said she would be terribly disappointed at missing us, and had said just the other day how she wished that someone from Australia would visit them.
As far as I was personally concerned, I did think after the war started of enlisting. However, having a farm and a big overdraft on it, also two children and David on the way, I thought I had better not.
Alice wrote to my aunt Mary in England who had two sons and a husband in World War I. She thought I was doing the right thing. Although, they had tried to persuade me to join the Army years before instead of coming to Australia. How we make one's decisions in life.
Anyway, in 1942 all the men within a certain age group were called up. That was after the Japanese entered the war and things were bad. At that time Elsie brought Douglas and Marion up to us to go to school at Neerim South. That was after the bombing of Darwin. Alice had a lot to do.
We had to report at the Neerim South hall, where an Army Officer and a doctor were present. Tom Fowles and I were the first two in. The doctor said to me, "Is there anything wrong with you that you know of?" I told him I only had a varicose vein in the left leg. He said, "Roll up your trousers?" When I did, he said, "Medically unfit." The Officer wrote an exemption card. Tommy Fowles also failed the medical test, and the military officer said, "What a rotten start." Walter Mackintosh was also examined the same day and was passed despite having asthma. The Officer said to Walter, "We don't want you yet, but if the little yellow bellies come up this hill we will need you, and your chooks too!"
However, a volunteer defence force was formed in the Neerim District. Most of us that were available were in it. We trained at the Neerim recreation reserve on Sunday afternoons and sometimes at Neerim South hall at night. We had physical training and sometimes bayonet practice.
The local Headmaster, Jack Polletti, took us for PT. He had been a lifesaver on one of the bayside beaches. At the recreation reserve we were taught military drill, and other things, by returned soldiers from the First World War. Jim Stott, Jack Swaffield, H. McKay. Jim Mawhinney and others.
A Light Horse Troop was also formed and Jim White, an old Light Horseman himself from the first World War, was in charge of that. Ken Mackintosh and Chas McGilvray were two of the ones I remember in that group.
The Military couldn't supply rifles to us, I think because there was a shortage elsewhere. The local wheelwright made some for us. Of course they were more or less dummy rifles, but did for drilling purposes.
I remember the Captain having us play a 'Simon says' game. I guess the motive, and I'm only guessing, was to keep us on our toes. Everything went OK, but men were dropping out one by one and there were just a few of us left. The Captain said "dismiss" and the rest of us, who were left in, as always, obeyed our officer, and dismissed. We were all out!
We did a lot of marching, drilling with our makeshift rifles, sloping arms, presenting arms and order arms, and so on.
While having bayonet practice one day, Jim Stott the officer in charge said, because he had a sore throat, "Would anybody like to give the orders?" I volunteered and sang out the orders. On guard, long point, withdraw, short point, and so on until the opposing lines of men met in the middle. I think it was better giving the orders than doing it.
Another wartime effort was the observation post which was used for spotting aircraft flying over Neerim South. Whether they were enemy or our own planes they had to be reported on the two-way radio, which had been installed in the front room of Swaffield's old house near the store. Actually there weren't many planes of any description flying over at all.
There was a big meeting in the Neerim South hall and an Air Force Officer addressed the people. He told us that if a circle was drawn on a map with Yallourn as its centre, and that circle's radius was 25 miles. Neerim South would be on the circumference. They had an anti-aircraft gun at Yallourn near the power house. The idea was to protect the power house from any enemy action. These observation posts were set up at various intervals around this circle giving warning of aircraft approaching. That meant a 24 hour watch each day and needed a lot of people doing a three hour shift. My shift was 3am to 6am. Then I went home and milked the cows.
Trevor Perry was on just before me, from midnight until 3am. I liked that because he stopped on and had a talk for a while. That passed the time away. One morning when I walked down there it was snowing.
One lady in the town was very irate when I said to her one day, "Some of the folk want to give up this plane spotting." She said, "It's a pity if they can't spend three hours a week." She went on to say that her son had spent his 21st birthday in captivity on the island of Ambon after being captured by the Japanese. The young man died there later.
When I heard the lady talk like that it made me think a lot more of the small sacrifice of three hours a week in comparison to that boy's sacrifice. When the meeting came round for the air observers, as we were called, I stood up in the supper room in the hall and said so. So we continued on looking for planes. The lady with whom I spoke was Mrs Bert Smith, who at that time ran the Coffee Palace. She was a Londoner, and I think, though not sure, that she was a First World War bride who married an Australian soldier.
This was all going on while we went about our daily work, planting crops, digging potatoes, cutting maize, and so on.
By the way, the Air Force officer told us at the meeting that the orders to the gun crew at Yallourn were to fire on any plane. One day, he said, an American plane flew over the power house and was fired on. Apparently the pilot did everything with the plane that he shouldn't have done to get out of the way.
Better things, however, were in store for us when our fourth child was born on the 15th October, 1941. A son, 'George Trevor Price'. Mum had an uncle George who she was very fond of, and who was very good to her and me too. I also had an uncle George Price, my father's brother, and we got Trevor from Trevor Perry, who was at Neerim South at the time. In fact, whenever there was an emergency at home George stayed with Mr and Mrs Perry for awhile. Geoffrey their son wasn't very old, and loved having George there. One day he brought some friends home from school to see George, but unfortunately for Geoffrey, George had been taken home. He was so disappointed that he told his father, "You had no right to send him home!" He added that he was going to leave home and went off down Garland's paddock behind the parsonage. He eventually came back home.
Thinking of Trevor Perry reminded me of another incident that happened during his six years at Neerim South. It happened one Sunday night. Trevor had gone to Noojee for the night service. Mrs Flo James had gone with him after coming in from Shady Creek with her father, who was taking the service at Neerim South. I went to church and Mr Jim Knowles took the service. After, he was to stay in the parsonage until Mr Perry and Flo James arrived back from Noojee. Then, of course he would take Flo home.
Alice was away at the time. I went home and went to bed. At about ten minutes to eleven I heard a knock on the bedroom window. A lady's voice was saying, "Mr Price, Trevor hasn't arrived home yet. Could you please go up the road in the car and see where he is?" I got up, dressed, and drove up the road just past the Neerim cemetery and saw a car coming. There weren't many cars on the road then. I stopped and it was Trevor's car. I asked him what the matter was and what had held him up. As I remember, he said that he had run out of petrol and had to walk some distance to get some more. I said, "I will follow you down to Neerim South to see how you go." I'm not sure if he had engine trouble or not.
When we arrived back at Neerim South I told Trevor I would drive Flo home to Shady Creek as Mr Knowles had gone home hours before to see how his wife was getting on. Trevor said, "No, I'll take Flo home." I never heard the end of the story until a couple of days later. Mrs Perry told me that Trevor had got to Shady Creek alright, but couldn't get the car going to drive home again. Mr Knowles brought him back to Neerim South. Trevor had to go back later to get his car which they had managed to start for him.
When we stayed with the Perry's at Elmore later on, there was a harvest festival at one of the little country churches. During the following week the goods that had been given were auctioned. Trev, with a couple of girls who were twins, and I went to the sale. I think Alice and Vera stayed home and talked. On the way to the church, I said I don't suppose I'll buy anything except if there happened to be a tin of condensed milk. Lo and behold, there was a tin of condensed milk amongst pumpkins and other produce. It was held up and away went the bidding. It was finally knocked down to me. When it was handed over, to my dismay, I found that it was unsweetened, also that the twins had been bidding against me. It is wise sometimes to keep one's mouth shut when thinking of buying something by auction.
Well! We had our humorous times, but also some sad times. During the war aunty Amy and uncle George were living at New St, Brighton. Uncle George, despite losing a leg in the First World War, had enlisted and was employed by the Army on some work in Melbourne.
Aunty Amy had come to stay with us for awhile. Whilst there she was sitting at the kitchen window, (one could see a fair way down the road because there were no houses then), when she noticed Jack Swaffield walking slowly up the road. She said something like, "I wonder where Jack is going?"
He came up from our little gate to the house and I met him outside. He said to me, "Young Mick Addison has been killed in an aircraft accident in Tunisia, North Africa." I told Alice and she conveyed the sad news to aunty Amy.
Apparently Jack had been at Feltschers at Neerim the night before and heard the news then. He thought he would wait until the next day to break the news. I am not sure in what year this happened, but I have just noticed in my diary on the 25th May, 1943 that the telephone man had completed installing the telephone.
It is almost impossible to write everything down that happened, but we were very busy most of the time. I had started, going to the School committee meetings and ended up staying on it for 21 years, well after the last of our children had left the Neerim South Primary School. I thought I should leave and make room for someone who had children there. However, the chairman, Dan Kelliher asked me to stay on for another term, which I did. Alice was also in the mothers' Club and when some of the children went to High School she drove into Warragul to help with canteen duty.
It's very hard not to get ahead of one's self when writing something like this. But we can't go past New Year's Day 1944, when a great event took place. Another daughter, Mary Winifred, was born to us. This made us very happy. She was named Mary after my aunt Mary, who did so much for us when our father died (She told me in a letter to think of her as I would my own mother; also Winnie went to live with her when our mother died.) And Winifred after my sister. Nana Robinson was very pleased that this baby was a little girl.
On the 24th January, the same year that Mary Winifred was born, I had a visit from the local policeman Alf Somers, and the Neerim South forestry officer, Feltham. The weather had been hot and the grass was very dry, especially the grass paddocks that had been mown. One, between Dawson's and the school where Fallons and Southgates now stand, was that dry that if you dropped a match on it, it would start to burn.
These two men came around to say that there would be a meeting in the supper room of the hall that night to discuss the burning of a break right around the town, as far up the hill as Walter Mackintosh's place.
I went down to the meeting and there was a good crowd there. The forestry officer outlined a plan, which was to burn a strip of at least two chain wide (44 yards). All the men that were available were to be supplied with knapsack pumps to help control the fire. The Forestry was going to have a big pump with an engine as a further safeguard.
I was thinking to myself at the meeting, I wonder what the position would be if someone's house burnt down in the process. I asked the question, but did not get much of an answer except, "That's a good question." I guess they were hoping that didn't happen.
With the power pump they were going to use water from the old swimming pool, the creek, from a big tank behind the Kings Arms hotel, and from our 5000 gallon brick tank just above the big oak tree. I was given some petrol coupons to get petrol to use in the engine at the creek to pump water and fill up the brick tank.
There was a lot of rubbish around some houses. Anyway off we went. We were burning around an old house somewhere near where the Pre-school Centre is now, with the engine pump at the swimming pool and the hose coming up the hill past the Butter Factory. There was plenty of dry grass and weeds. All was going well until the engine at the creek ran out of petrol, and the water from the big hose stopped running. Us chaps using knapsack pumps on our backs had to work very hard. However, someone soon got the pump going again and saved the day. We burned, right round the hotel, in a paddock behind the coftee palace, and then to the front of our place. There was no service road there then. When they were burning in front of the cypress hedge it very nearly caught fire, and would have done so except for the big hose. I might add that I had got the horses and ploughed the orchard between the hedge and the house. When we had finished there was a blackened strip all round the town. A lot of places were burnt out around Morwell the same year.
There was a sequel to the story I have just related. The Monday after we had burned the fire break around the town 'Toby' Denison came running down to our place to tell us that Walter Mackintosh's front paddock was on fire. The grass in it was short, but in our paddocks over the fence the grass was long and dry. We tried to contain the fire in Walter's place, but it was creeping along both sides of the paddock. The only things we had to use were bags and a stirrup pump in a bucket of water which Walter had. There were Mr and Mrs Dennison, who had been cleaning out fowl pens, and Walter and I. Two were on one side of the paddock and two on the other. As fast as we tried to belt the fire out it would flare up again.
The only thing to put it out was water. Walter tried to ring the Forestry Office and ask them to bring some knapsack sprayers. Unfortunately for our well being, it was a holiday and the local telephone exchange at the Post Office was closed. However, the lady who ran it lived on the premises and eventually took the call. Walter was then able to get on to the Forestry Office and they soon brought the sprayers. The fire was quickly put out.
After we had finished we stood talking by the side of the road fence for a while. A funeral procession with a lot of cars following went by and you could see the faces of the people turn towards us in a sort of disbelief.
The upshot of it was, some days later Ned Kelliher said to me, "When we went past we wondered what you fellows were doing, burning off on a day like that!"
We found out afterwards the cause of the fire. When we had burnt the fire break the week before some old tree roots had caught fire and had been smouldering ever since. When the wind got up it must have flared up and started the fire. Fires in stumps are very hard to put out.
A few days ago Mrs Nell Somers brought the 'meals on wheels' around and I mentioned it to her. Alf Somers (her husband) was the policeman at the time of the burning off, and she said, "It was a good idea wasn't it."
We had many working bees at the church, the old hospital, and the old swimming pool at the creek.
The working bee at the hospital was mainly cutting firewood, tidying up the garden and other maintenance jobs around the place. There was one big working bee in the 1950s when the hospital was enlarged and another block of land adjoining was bought to build a residence for the staff. The land was bought from Mr Richard Gleeson.
There were some large cypress trees on the boundary line which had to be removed and a lot of men were in attendance. Hector Cowden was helping with his little bulldozer. This was used to pull the trees over in the right direction, away from the hospital.
At the church working bees, we planted potatoes behind the church in an effort to raise funds when things were pretty tight.
We also had working bees out in Ern Mcintosh's bush paddock, cutting and splitting wood for the Collingwood Mission. We sent about two good sized railway truck loads, which were carted free of charge by the Victorian Railways
They were happy times when a group of men got together like that and the ladies brought some afternoon lunch for us.
Then of course there were the working bees at the old swimming pool. We dug deep trenches to lay the pipes from further up the creek to where there was a weir made with bags of sand to dam the water. The water was then constantly going through the pool and out again.
Unfortunately, the sandbag dam broke down a lot, so the committee decided to make a new dam on another spot. This gave us the task of diverting the creek. This was done by digging another channel for the water to flow where there was a bend in the creek. We then had to dig a hole big enough to hold plenty of water to flow through the pipes to the pool. This time the wall of the dam was made of concrete, and it is still there. Arthur Dawson was the builder of the wall
This meant digging up the pipes from the original place, and putting them in place from the new dam. That was hard work because the ground was sticky and wet.
The blackberries were bad and had to be cleaned up. A track was put in so people could take their cars down. To look at it now one wouldn't think it possible, but they had swimming races there. I must mention here that Hector Cowden did a lot of maintenance work on the site for a long time. He kept it tidy and clean and planted some trees. A lot of children learnt to swim there under the tuition of Mr Jack Polletti, the school headmaster.
There were people at the time who said it should never have been built down there. Harry Elliot the garage owner used to say that the pool should be built in the town and water pumped up from the creek. At the time there was no town water and everybody relied on tank water.
I must add that these working bees were very good for those who could spare the time to attend. All working for a common purpose and good cause, with plenty of good natured humour which made life better for all concerned.
It was during this year that Dr Townsend referred me to Dr Trumpy of Warragul about the varicose veins in my leg. He suggested an operation, so I went into the Cooinda Private hospital in Victoria Street. I had the operation, tying the veins they called it in those days, and was there for quite a few days. Mum held the fort while I was away with some help from Mr Cook, Trevor Perry, and Walter Mackintosh. They cut maize and fed the cows and were very good friends when we needed them. I must add that Dr Trumpy was an old Warragul name. His father before him was also a Warragul doctor.
He was a very friendly man. Lawson Swaffield, who was in the Airforce at the time, had recently had his appendix taken out by Dr Trumpy. He called in to see the doctor some time later and the first thing the doctor said to Lawson was, "Hello Lawson, how's your belly where the pig bit you?" referring to the operation.
When Dr Trumpy died, and he was not an old man, I believe the funeral was one of the largest ever seen in Warragul; a great tribute to a good doctor and a very friendly man.
After my operation aunty Lucy and uncle Fred asked me to stay with them for a few days, which I did. Uncle Fred, uncle Harry and aunty Alice and quite a few relations came to see me.
Whilst there I saw two very good draughts players, uncle Fred and Tom Lawrence, Alice's cousin's husband. They could tell if the game was going to be a draw while there was still a lot of draughts left on the board. Too good for me.
One thing stands out in my mind, and I often think of it now, especially when having a bath. After having a bath while staying at aunty Lucy's place, she went into the bathroom after I had finished. When she came back to me she said, "All you men are the same, you dry on the towel instead of using the washer first." It was fairly obvious what she meant, wring the washer out and use it to take off the surplus water before using the towel.
I certainly learnt that lesson and even used it in a sermon as an illustration once, but don't quite remember how it went.
Mr Ern Cook, who was the same age as Nana Robinson, was 78 when he died, 2 years after Nana. He did a lot of work for me, putting up fences and digging potatoes. While on the digging job he would talk a lot about his younger days. He was born at Port Fairy in the Western District. His father brought the family across Victoria to Crossover. He came from some of the richest country to some of the poorest in the state, he said. He told me they came across in a bullock wagon, and although only twelve years old could yoke the bullocks up. He mentioned also that he saw his first train at Camperdown.
The war was gradually being won and time moved on to the end in 1945. There was a big welcome home held at the Neerim Recreation Reserve for all the local men who had arrived home. It was a great time especially for those who had sons, daughters, and husbands who survived the war.
Les Addison had gone from a prisoner of war camp in Austria to England where he stayed with some of his father's relatives in Shropshire. He stayed at our place and got his driver's licence again. He also spent a fair bit of time trapping rabbits and I guess trying to get back into 'civvy street'. He afterwards went on a share farm at Pakenham, before going on a Soldier Settlement farm at Strathmerton.
We had another happy event on the 2nd November 1946: Harry Maxwell Price was born. I think that Alice decided to call him Harry because she thought he looked like me. I am not sure where the Maxwell came from. Alice's mother wasn't too keen on calling him Harry, until Alice pointed out to her that my mother had called me Harry.
By the 25th April, 1948 our family was complete when Robert William was born; an Anzac day baby.
In 1952 I thought it would be nice to go back to England, to see Winnie and her husband, Harry, and also some uncles and aunts who were left from the previous generation. I am glad we managed to go while they were still alive.
I had been sick in the Warragul hospital for two weeks early in the year with undulant fever. At first the doctors didn't know what was wrong with me, but kept giving me penicillin and I gradually came good. When I left the hospital to go home they took a blood test (which is now standard procedure) and found out what it was. Fortunately there were new tablets out and I had to take two, three times a day until they were gone. The tablets had cost thirteen shillings each, but they had just come on the free list.
We had a few acres of potatoes to dig so we arranged with Mr Jim Lennox and Jim Patterson, Edith's husband, and Tom who was now 16 years old to cart them up using the Ferguson tractor we had bought earlier that year.
I remember thinking a lot about this overseas trip and about buying a tractor too. When up at Dave Algies for choir practice (Mrs Algie was the conductor) they had supper and Jim and Jack Algie were there, although they were not in the choir. However, the Commercial Bank manager was in the choir and was there.
While having supper Jack Algie said to me, "Are you going to buy a tractor, Harry?" I replied that I didn't know whether to buy a tractor or go to England for a trip. "Do both," he replied. I wondered what my bank manager was thinking! In the event, we ended up doing both on a big overdraft; nothing as big as people have now.
Alice, as you can imagine, didn't fancy leaving the children and at first we were going to take Harry and Robert. Anyway, Nana said to me, "You are not going without Alice." So, we went and uncle Jack went with us. His main aim was to see his mother, but of course my mother had died about 1930.
Looking back I think it would have been better to have left our trip for a few more years. One can't turn the clock back. I might add that we saw a lot of people and a lot of places, but had to get an earlier passage back to Australia because things weren't too good on the home front.
There was a bit of friction between those left in charge and Mr Hogan, the Methodist Minister, who had agreed to do our business. He wrote and told us he felt it would be better if we came home earlier as there seemed to be a bit of a problem. It was just as well we did because Nana died two weeks after we got back.
We had problems getting an earlier passage and went to the shipping office of the P&O line in Cockspur St just off Trafalgar Square. They promptly said there were no cancellations.
When in London a few days later we went back to the shipping office again. We had paid the fare back to Australia on the P&O line and I said we may have to get on an Italian ship, and can we have our money refunded. The chap got a book out from under the counter and said that there were two cancellations on the 'Otranto', but it would cost more. It was a better cabin, so we took it. It happened to be the boat that Jack was going back on, it worked out well. Winnie was disappointed when we told her we were leaving earlier. When we eventually got on the boat, some people told us that they had to slip a bit of cash under the counter to get an earlier berth. Of course there were a lot of migrants travelling out at that time. We were both glad to see our children again, although Alice did enjoy the trip and wrote a big story about our travels and what we did.
I thought now I would put in a bit about growing feed for the cows and the change in the method of harvesting in our time; and the great strides it has made.
When we came to Neerim South most of the farmers grew oats which meant cultivation, sowing them early, and when they had grown a bit turning the cows into the paddock to graze on it. Later on we shut the paddock up and eventually harvested the crop. It was cut with a reaper and binder into sheaves, stacked and sometimes cut into chaff for horse and cow feed.
There were some contractors who went from farm to farm cutting chaff and also farmers who had their own plant.
Later on, when grass pastures improved with the advent of top dressing with superphosphate or trace elements, local farmers starting cutting grass for winter fodder for stock. The grass was cut in my day with a horse-drawn mower. It was left to dry, weather permitting, and then it was raked into rows with what was called a dump rake, drawn by one horse. Then a horse and a cart, or maybe two horses in a wagon were used to bring it in. There would be a man on each side with a pitch fork pitching the hay onto the cart. Another man was on the cart spreading it out and building the load so that it would not fall off.
Then someone came up with the idea of the 'tumble sweep', an implement like a big wide rake with a handle on it. The tines were about four feet six inches long made of wood and with a metal tip on the end of them. The operator held the handles of the sweep and the reins to drive the horses, who dragged the sweep along by the attachment of two long chains, one on each side of them.
The sweeps were driven along the rows of cut hay with the tines sliding underneath the hay and so gathering it up to take it to the stack. When he got there, the driver just lifted the handles and the tips of the tines dug into the ground causing the sweep to tip over twice and release the load. Then he was on his way for another load leaving two men to pitch the hay onto the stack; and a third man, maybe two men, building the stack.
We used this method even after we bought the stationary hay press which made square bales. After this we got a tractor. We then purchased a sweep that fitted onto the front of the tractor and this one operated by pushing the hay in front of it.
Our baler was a bit too small and too slow. When the weather was fine you needed to make the most of it; and the baler had iron wheels and had to be dragged around the road to each of the places which shared it. That also took time.
Bert Kent, one of the four who shared it, towed it behind his old Dodge utility. Sometimes when the weather wasn't too good it caused a bit of friction amongst us.
In the end we took it over, but I should mention, also, that the engine was a bit hard to get going after we had knocked off for a cup of tea, which meant that we lost precious time in getting the hay in.
One day we were having trouble with the engine and Mort LePage, who was contract-baling hay, was coming around the Neerim East road with his pick-up baler at just the right time. He came in and finished the paddock for us. Of course with the stationary baler we stacked the bales in the paddock and covered them with a cover or hand carted them to a shed. Sometimes we made a stack in a convenient spot later on when it suited. The pick-up baler left all the bales in rows exposed to the weather, so they had to be carted straight away, if possible.
Now they have these big 'round bales which can stand a bit of bad weather, but of course it means a lot more expense to buy the big tractors and other implements that go with it and equipment to harvest it and afterwards feed it out. However, it makes the job much easier and quicker.
It is the same with making silage. We used to make silage stacks, some single wedge shape and some double wedge. In the latter case the tractor would drive up one side and down the other and deposit the load where it was needed; thus rolling the stack and compressing the silage at the same time. It was also put in pits. Now we have silage made into these big round bales the same as hay. When we started, it was all horses for farm work, although they had tractors on the big wheat farms years ago.
However, when the Ferguson tractor, which was very small, came into vogue after the War, it very soon ousted the horse. I ordered our first 'Fergie' at Brooks and Parnell in Warragul in 1952. There was a long waiting list. We also bought a double furrowed plough to go with it and later on a mower. But for a while we used the old horse-drawn mower, by making the pole shorter and booking it on behind the tractor. One of the boys had to sit on the mower seat working the levers
I remember one day we were mowing in the bee paddock, and the boys, one on the tractor and one on the mower, mowed near the blackwood tree with the bee hive in it. All of a sudden the tractor and the mower stopped. The boys jumped off their respective seats and came running up the paddock waving their arms. It looked so funny seeing the two of them running and waving their arms about as if gone mad.
From where I was standing at the top of the hill I couldn't see anything to wave at, but of course it was the bees, who were very active that day because it was so hot and that's what they were waving at.
The same thing happened to me another time when Alan Mcintosh was helping to clear a bit of rubbish and was using his chain saw on a tree, not knowing that there was a beehive in it. It was a willow and when it fell I heard Alan exclaim one word "bees!" and throw his chainsaw down. It nearly went into the creek, and off Alan ran while the rest of us made ourselves scarce too. We had to laugh about it afterwards.
It wasn't as bad as when I sat down on the lounge at Mary and Travis' home one day with a short sleeved shirt on, and I felt something like a darning needle in the back of my upper arm and looked behind to see if it was. It turned out to be a wasp, which I killed when I spotted it on the curtain.
However, as usual I am getting off the track, as I was talking about the big progress that has been made in harvesting during our life time. We also grew maize for the cows and put out a load everyday except for Saturday when we put out two loads, one for Sunday as we usually went to church and Sunday school which didn't leave too much time for anything else after milking.
We only grew millet one year and got a good crop, but let it grow too high before grazing it. We should have had an electric fence to strip graze it. Field peas were grown too for the pig feed, also turnips for the cows, but nowadays it is mostly grass farming around here. Of course there was not much grass in a lot of paddocks when I came here. So it was good to plough them and grow crops including potatoes, from which some years we made more money then the cows, and afterwards sow grass on them.
Blackberries were a bit of a problem especially around the creek, and it took up a lot of time cutting them.
I haven't said much about the family, but they were pretty good and well behaved, but no doubt had their off moments. Those things fade from one's memory, which is perhaps a good thing.
I thought mum would remember more about the family than me, and when I asked her she said that they were generally pretty good.
The family went to various places for holidays in the summer. A few of the places were Chelsea, Bon Beach, and later Inverloch and Lakes Entrance. I did not always go with the family, but stayed home and milked the cows. Sometimes I went for a few days and got somebody else to milk. We had some happy times.
I remember taking a girl, who was helping Alice in the house at home, to Bon Beach with us when we went on holiday, and she won a 'Sun' sand castle building competition while there. I can't remember what the prize was. Her name was Lena Stephens, Ray's sister. The last time I spoke to her, she said that she lived at Euroa
I well remember when Douglas was just starting school at Brighton and was not keen on going, because he didn't like or get on with the teacher, so aunty Elsie brought him to us to go to Neerim South State School. I guess Alice must have taken him on the first day to enrol him. However, he still wasn't keen on going. Off he went one day and I stood near the little gate at the front fence and watched him.
He got down to the school, where at that time there was a big high and wide cypress hedge in which was a small gate. Doug got as far as the gate, stopped for a minute, and headed away from school towards aunty Amy's house across the road. I had to walk all the way down the road to make sure that he went in to school.
Writing about that big hedge, the members of the school committee used to have working bees to cut it. It was that wide on top that one day Trevor Perry, Sam Algie and me were on top cutting it and we had an old door sitting crossways on the hedge and the three of us knelt on this door three abreast clipping away and shifting the board along as we went. The hedge was fairly dry inside and the children made cubby holes in it, but it was a fire hazard and was eventually demolished and taken down to Dawson's paddock and burned. Hector Cowden kept pushing the fire together with the 'dozer'.
I may have mentioned that Douglas and Marion came up to Neerim South during the war and went to school here. I have mentioned Hector Cowden a few times and about the volunteer work he did around the Neerim South area. Well today I have been to his funeral and the minister spoke at the graveside, not about what Hector had done, but about his unselfishness, and his great faith in God.
The minister mentioned Hector tried to spread the word of God, so he made a platform in Dawson's paddock, next to the school and close to the road. He put a text on it changing it every so often. On one night someone cut it down with an axe. Just afterwards I was talking to uncle George about it and he, witty as ever, said quick as a flash "The axe of the apostles!"
I must say that we have enjoyed life and have had lots of happy times, and of course some sad ones too. We have also had trying times, with many trips to hospital. Sometimes very urgent, as was the case with Harry when mum had to stay at the hospital all night with him
Tom also had a bad appendix, which had to be operated on straight away. but on the whole we have had a pretty good run, and always maintained our faith in God and tried to live by the commandment of love one another, even as Christ has loved us.
I finish by saying that 84 years is a long time to write about and no doubt there were plenty of other things which happened, both serious and humorous that will drop out of one's mind now and then, but I've done my best to relate as much as I could and hope the detail that I have put in doesn't bore people
I should in conclusion pay a tribute to our forebears for the part they have played in our lives in teaching us what is right and pointing us in the right direction at the start of our own lives.
Also to many people who helped to make me feel more settled in Australia, including Mr and Mrs Pudney of Glen Waverley, Mr Thomas Harriott whom I met at the Methodist Church at Glen Waverley, the Rev W and Mrs Seamer, Mr and Mrs Jack Sadler of Drouin, and so many others that I have had the privilege of knowing. Also Alice's own family. So many folk have helped me and made me feel at home after a shaky start in Australia, and now I have spent (by the 15th of January, 1992) 68 years in Australia.
One final thought. I can't finish without saying how much I owe to my wife, who has been my companion, confidant and help over so many years. Alice has been such a great help to me with her love and unselfishness. I would say she was born to serve lovingly. Thank you Alice.
Also, thank you to our sons and daughters, and their wives and husbands, for their help in later years.
I read somewhere that a man said, when writing his autobiography, he would write more about the people who he felt had influenced his life than about himself. I feel that is a true thought.
Father and mother - I do not remember a great deal about my father as he died when I was nine and he was working hard at the time of the First World War and wasn't home very much. I remembered him playing football with me, and also one year I remember meeting him at a seaside resort where we were staying and he came to join us for a few days. Of course one hears lots of things later on, but they are not personal.
He had a love of music and singing and he sang in the choir of his own small village (church). He was fond of both cricket and football (soccer) and I have been told was good at both sports. I can't say, however, that he had a great influence on my life, because of his early death.
My mother on the other hand, although I was only with her for 16 and a half years of my life, I believe had a big influence on my life. She went out to work when my father died and looked after Winnie and I. Clothed and fed us both quite adequately. Taught us good manners, also spoke fairly well, and sent us to Sunday School (we had a fair variety of Sunday Schools).
She had a great faith in God and always tried to help people. She loved having the young people from the Belmont Row Wesleyan Chapel to tea on Sunday evenings. She was always charitable and kind to other people even though some may not have been kind to her, and even when my father died she kept her faith. I guess, though I left home at a young age and she died not many years afterwards, some of her life must have rubbed off onto me.
She wrote and said how pleased she was when I wrote and told her I had joined the church at Drouin. She told me when I left England to keep up going to chapel. She said she had always prayed that I would. She was a very patient woman. Of course while one is growing up one's life is being influenced by lots of people, cousins who we have played with; uncles and aunties, with the things we do and say; workmates. Teachers at school all have so much to do with our growth in life.
When I came to Australia and worked at Glen Waverley at Miss Stuart's orchard, Mr Pudney was the manager and Mrs Pudney looked after the household. I must say that Mr and Mrs Pudney and Miss Stuart helped me to settle down in the country, by their kindness and understanding. Inviting us into the house some evenings to play 500 or crib. Making us feel at home and wanted, not just as workers.
Mr and Mrs Street on High Street Road, behind the Mountain View Hotel, also invited me into their home to play 500.
Going to the Methodist church I met Alf McIntosh who also was very kind and invited me to his home for a meal. Also under his influence I joined the IOR in Glen Waverley about 1926 and have been in it ever since. He helped me when I was leaving Glen Waverley.
All these people have given help and shown kindness which must help to mold one's life. There are so many people that one meets in life that just by showing their interest in you helps, I believe, to mould your thoughts and attitudes to life
I guess one man who stands out is Mr Thomas Marriott, whom I met when he was concluding a service at the Methodist Church in Glen Waverley one Sunday afternoon. After someone had introduced us after the service we found we had both come from Birmingham. Although he came in 1871 and myself in 1925; it kindled his interest and he asked me to go to Oakleigh to see him at his home to talk about Birmingham. He was a man of great faith and had a vigorous way of proclaiming it, in the pulpit and in actions, and very keen on singing the hymns. It was he who seemed to take an interest in me, and when I was to leave Glen Waverley he obtained a job for me in Drouin with his son-in-law, John Sadler, where I worked for four years.
Mr Sadler also must have had some influence on my thinking too! I was with him for four years, and enjoyed it. Although he was a different man to Mr Marriott, he was a good man. He was a Sunday School Superintendent when I went there and went off to church on a Sunday morning in the jinker. I went too.
One person's kindness which I forgot to mention was a lady, Mrs Dodds, who kept a boarding house in Cecil Street. South Melbourne, where I stayed for about a month. The board was 30 shillings a week and she let me have it for 25 shillings because I was not earning much. So there is much kindness about.
Places I have slept when stuck in an emergency include the Methodist Church, Neerim South, an old hut along Buln Buln Road near where the overpass is now, and behind the shed at the Methodist Church Drouin.
Billy Richards and his long childrens' talk. He spoke about love and when he had finished at 12 o'clock the people remained standing for the benediction, but he announced the text for his sermon instead.
Young home missionary here from South Gippsland to preach a trial sermon before two ministers, when the Methodist synod was being held in Warragul. Our home missionary, Mr Jack Kinsman, had gone to Longwarry to do the same thing. Our visiting home missionary was very late and the two ministerial brethren were getting tired or waiting. Alice was playing the organ.
The ministers were getting impatient, especially one, who said they should cancel the service and make him preach before the whole synod. However, commonsense prevailed and we sang hymns until he arrived. The two ministers went into the vestry to compare notes and someone inadvertently locked the door and they could not get out. Mrs Kinsman was a bit distressed over the whole thing.
Reverend Rintoul's visitation. Meeting in the Parsonage. Discussing Noojee being tacked onto Neerim South home mission station very seriously when a mouse ran across the floor, with people chasing it. Broke the seriousness up a bit!
Mr Sadler in his Sunday best suit, and the pony going into the stable; the pony slipping on the slab floor as he walked her into the stable with the harness on ready to go to Sunday School after dinner. When she slipped she sent up a shower of wet manure on to Mr Sadler. While he stood surveying his clothes, she slipped again and gave him another dose.
When I reached Glen Waverley I received a letter from Winnie. In it she wrote that Jim Walters was coming to Australia, but she wasn't sure to what part of Victoria.
Jim and I played in the same football team in Birmingham. Just a small group of lads who met on a Friday night at the leader's place further up the canal from our home at Ludgate Hill.
Les Powell, our leader and captain, had whitewashed an old cellar at his place which we made into clubrooms. We played bagatelle and also had other games. There was a boxing ring there too
I remember getting into the ring one Friday night with another chap. I wasn't sorry when I got out. I hadn't realised how much one could get knocked about so quickly.
Getting back to Jim Walters. One Saturday afternoon Jim, who was staying with his uncle Alf in Ringwood, rode his uncle's pony over to Glen Waverley to where I was working. He invited me over to his uncle and aunt's home to stay for one weekend.
We set a date. As I didn't have a bike or a pony I set off and walked. Up to High Street Road on to Springvale Road and so to Whitehorse Road and then to Ringwood.
Jim told me later I should have gone up Canterbury Road to Wantirna Road as his uncle's street went off that road. Anyway I arrived there, getting a bit of a lift up Springvale Road in an old tourer type of car. It was a bumpy ride as the road wasn't too smooth in places. It was the only car I saw along Springvale road that day.
I think it must have been that car ride after one of Mrs Pudney's big roast dinners that made me sick. I was sick in the stomach all that weekend. However, I did enjoy meeting Jim's uncle and aunt and the weekend away.
Neighbours of theirs went to the Church of Christ. Some time later Alf Walters and his wife drove over to Glen Waverley in their pony and jinker and took me to a picnic at Mordialloc run by the Church of Christ young people.
They had races and games and some of us had a row in a boat up the creek there. I remember there was a lot of splashing water with the oars and a lot of fun.
Afterwards, when it was all over, I went with the young folk in the motor van, or bus, back to Ringwood. There was a lot of singing on the way. One of the songs I remember was, "There's a track winding back to an old fashioned shack; I'm on the way to Gundagai."
So, I had another weekend at Ringwood. I might add that Alf Walters had been a soldier in the First World War when he was 17. He had come to Australia soon after the war ended.
At the time he was going around the Dandenongs in his pony and linker selling sewing machines and servicing them.
They were very good to me, but when I went to Drouin I lost touch with them until about forty years later.
One day, while at Bentleigh staying with Elsie and Jack, we paid a visit to Miss Kate Marriott (a daughter of Tom Marriott). She was playing bowls on the other side of the road from her home. She came over to see who was at her front door. She recognised Alice and I and invited us to tea the following night. On arriving for tea the next night we met Elsie Wigley (Saddler) and her husband Ray and their family.
They had come over from Ringwood where Ray was a builder. I mentioned to him that I used to have a friend named Jim Walters who lived at Ringwood. Ray replied, "He still does."
Later on, after a trip to Tasmania, I got sick and the doctor said that I had thrombosis in the leg. This meant I had to have plenty of rest and stay of my leg.
While doing nothing, I thought I would look in the telephone book to see if I could find Jim Walters name in it and from Ringwood.
Sure enough it was there, and so I rang him. "Is that Jim Walters?" I asked. The voice replied, "Yes." I then said, "Did you come from Birmingham, England?" He replied. "No, but my father did." I then explained what the connection was.
He asked me where I lived and I told him Neerim South in Gippsland. He explained that his father didn't have the phone on and that he would let him know that I'd rung.
Eventually Jim rang me. He said his son had told him about the phone call, but couldn't remember the name of the place where we lived. He said it was in Gippsland and it was two names.
Jim senior went to the Post Office at Ringwood and they mentioned several two-name places such as Yarra Junction, with H Price there and then said Neerim South. Jim asked his son if that 'rang a bell'. His son said, "Yes, that's the place." Jim got our phone number and rang. He invited us down, but as I had to rest he decided to pay us a visit
He and his wife Olive, came. He told me he had joined the RAAF in 1936 and got out about 1956. He had been an instructor at various places during the war.
I asked him how his uncle and aunt were. He told me they were living in Moe. His uncle had a men's outfitters shop trading under the name 'A F Walter and Son'. I had heard it advertised over 3UL Warragul many times and hadn't connected it.
Jim suggested he drive us to Moe to see his aunt and uncle, and so we renewed old friendships.
Jim visited us several times after that. He also brought two of his sisters and their husbands to visit. One, who was visiting from England, and who we went to see when in Birmingham.
After he retired Jim did some work as a locksmith. When he was showing me something of interest he would say, "Do you follow me?" A hangover, I think, from his Airforce days.
Alf also paid us a visit too. I was hoeing thistles out when he came and he said, "Haven't they improved that method of getting rid of thistles yet?" That was the job I had on a farm when I came to Australia first, in the early 1920s.
He also used to say, when I visited them at Ringwood, that my feet were that big that you could see them coming around the corner before I got there.
I have thought too, since writing my memoirs, how distances have been bridged by air travel and how close it has brought other countries to Australia.
It took us a six weeks voyage to come around the Cape from England and about five weeks through the Suez Canal.
We did not receive letters until about five weeks after they were written and another five weeks before the reply got back to England. Now a letter takes about four days to arrive and one can reach London by plane in a couple of days. Of course, one can pick up the phone, dial the number and speak to the person on the other side of the world, and so keep in touch.
During the pre-war years there were a lot of pioneer airmen making flights to England and New Zealand and the USA. They were pioneers of air travel as we now know it. Such people as Bert Hinkler, Kingsford-Smith and, of course, Amy Johnson.
However, it didn't occur to us at the time that one day we would be on a plane, which was big enough to carry two or three hundred people all the way to England in two days. I think of the early settlers taking four months to get to Australia, in sailing ships. How long it would take them to get a letter from home and how cut off they would feel from their kith and kin.
I haven't found many things of value in my time, just a few things. I have already mentioned the one pound note. One day when walking across the tram lines in Birmingham I found a top set of false teeth right in the middle of the lines. How they got there I never found out, but I took them to the nearby Police Station and handed them in. I guess the Policeman thought it a bit of a joke. He told me to come back after awhile and if no one had claimed them I could have them back.
I was telling this story to Mr Jim Knowles years ago and he told me he had a funny experience with false teeth once. He was driving along a street in Sale with the car windows down. Suddenly he coughed and his false teeth came out. He put up his hand to catch them and succeeded in knocking them through the open window and the fence into somebody's backyard. He had to go to the front door of the house and tell the folk what had happened to get his teeth back.
It's amazing through life what a lot of people one meets sometimes becoming very close friends, then we are parted and we lose contact. One chap I met in Drouin and was friendly with was named Gilbert Belton. He came out from England via the Little Brother Scheme of the 1920s and worked on an orchard in Drouin
He used to come to the Methodist Young Peoples Guild. A very outgoing chap and, I believe, the son of a Major in the British Army.
I left Drouin as he did and I often wondered what happened to him
Many years later I read in the Sun newspaper about a man named Gilbert Belton who was a car dealer in Geelong. After making a business transaction he had left a lot of money in his trousers pocket. They were over a chair in the bedroom when the money was stolen. I wondered whether it was the same man I had known. I wrote to him and I he wrote back to say unfortunately it was. Gilbert was in the debates with us at Drouin.
Another time I was reading an English paper that had been sent to me. In it I read about a Mr Claude Dainty who had been made Mayor of the Royal and Ancient Borough of Sutton Coldfield. This was a town a few miles from Birmingham which, in my day, had fields and farms separating the two places.
Now, Mr Dainty was one of my former teachers at Lozelles St School. I wrote to him to congratulate him. He sent me back a very nice reply saying he had received letters from many old boys from many different places congratulating him.
His letterhead bore the word "Mayors Parlour. The Royal and Ancient Borough of Sutton Coldfield."
When we visited there in 1952 I was amazed to see how built up it was with houses.
Another court case I had to attend was unexpected. It came about from the following incident.
Alice and I were driving home from Warragul. On the road, just the Neerim South side of Rokeby, we slowed down to see if we could see George working in the paddock with the chainsaw. He was helping Alan Jones who owned some land there.
I mention this to show how small decisions alter things. Because of our going slow at this point of time, it made us reach a bad bend in the road further along, and so be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Just as we approached this bend, a truck laden with pulp wood appeared from the opposite direction, downhill.
The logs would have been about eight foot long and were split timber. They had the bark taken off them and so were very slippery.
They were loaded crossways onto the tray of the truck and secured by chains.
As the truck came around the bend the logs slipped off, just as we passed the truck, one hitting the front of the car on the bonnet and another the back of the car.
The bonnet flew up and the car stopped. The truck driver had also stopped a bit further on after losing a few more logs. He came running back to see if we were hurt.
We were surveying the damage when a chap in a car came along, he was heading for Warragul. He kindly turned around and took Alice home and told her to make herself a cup of tea.
Eventually, our car, a blue Ford Zephyr which had only done about twenty-five thousand miles, was dragged up to Neerim South looking a bit of a wreck. It was later taken to Warragul where it was repaired. The garage people said they had to put the battery in a bucket as it was all in pieces.
The night of our accident. Bill Bradbury, our herdtester turned up. He went down to the garage to have a look at the car. When he came back he said "God couldn't have wanted you, only your car!" Bill was a devout Roman Catholic.
The State Motor Car Insurance paid the account when the car was fixed up, and we thought that was the end of the matter.
A year later I was summonsed to appear at the Warragul Court over the incident. It was a bit of a surprise because I thought that the insurance, his and mine would have worked it all out
However, when speaking to the State Insurance solicitor, he told me they were suing the truck driver for an excess amount of six hundred pounds.
The upshot of this was that I was called to give evidence about the accident. The Police Magistrate said to me, "Please describe the accident to the court." I attempted to do this, but found it rather difficult. If I had known beforehand what I was going to be asked I would have been prepared.
I must have been talking fairly quickly, as the PM said to me, "Don't go so fast as the chap has to write it all down."
The lawyer who was there from the Insurance Company apologised to me afterwards outside the court. He said that I should have been asked just a few questions.
In fact I did not even know what they were after. I never heard the end of the story.
Mrs Os Lacey, who died last Sunday the 14th March 1993 at the age of 101, brought another episode in our early days on the farm at Neerim South to mind.
I have mentioned that Baden Lacey, a brother of Os, was a neighbour of ours. One day Baden asked me if I would like to go to a Test Match in Melbourne between Australia and England. I'm not sure of the year but it would have been in the 1930s. It was not quite as common going down to Melbourne in those days as it is now with faster cars, better highways and roads.
I accepted the invitation with the help of Alice. The day arrived. I walked up to Baden's place and Mr and Mrs Os Lacey were already there. The five of us got into the car with Baden driving. We detoured around Jindivick and picked up Mrs Wallace McKenzie, who was a sister of Baden and Os.
When we arrived in Melbourne we went to a cafe and had something to eat and a cup of tea. On arriving at the ground we found it was pretty full. The MCG didn't hold so many people in those days. We entered the section where there were rows of seats at ground level, although on a slight slope for better viewing. A chap named Cyril Jones, who knew the Laceys, because he had been a herdtester in the Neerim-Jindivick area, stood up and waved. He called us over as there were some empty seats near him.
Unfortunately for me there was only room for five and I had to sit elsewhere. Don Bradman was captain of the Australian team and Walter Hammond, captain of the Englishmen. As England were batting we did not see Bradman bat. However, we did see Walter Hammond bat, which was a treat for me.
It was the first test match I had been to and it gave me a great thrill. I had been to the MCG to see a match between NSW and Victoria when living in South Melbourne. But it was nothing like a test match
Of course, in those days there wasn't the saturation of sports of various kinds that we get on radio and TV these days.
Many years ago it was the custom of the Methodist Church at Harvest Festival time for one or two men to go around the district to visit adherents and members of the Church. This was to solicit gifts of money or produce to help support the mission of the Church in the district.
Ern Mcintosh, who was Circuit Steward at the time, asked me to go with him. We set off in the pony and jinker around Crossover, Rokeby, Jindivick. Most people gave a shilling or two and one gave us a bag of apples. Mr Quick, the Home Missionary, bought the apples and put the money into funds. It was quite interesting meeting all the folk when we visited.
I remember going to Mrs Wallace McKenzie's once when her mother, old Mrs Lacey, was visiting. I hadn't met the old lady before and I wasn't wearing a hat. She said to me, "Where's your hat?" I replied, "I don't wear one." She said as quick as a flash, "You'll get your brains addled."
Old Mr Dan Ronalds, or uncle Dan as he was known, used to go found the Neerim end of the Home Mission Station collecting
The old gentleman was the Sunday School superintendant at the Neerim Church and also the Circuit Steward. He used to drive down to the quarterly meeting at Neerim South in his pony and jinker. They always tried to pick a moonlight night for the meeting.
Later on they changed the meeting to an afternoon to make it easier for him. He faithfully kept the quarterly meeting minutes for many years. When I went to Neerim Church to take a service, the old gentleman would say to me, especially when there were only a few people there, "What we want are more members!"
Towards the end Ern Mcintosh and I went up to Neerim and brought him down to the Quarterly meeting by car. He was there one meeting and by next meeting he had passed on. Faithful to the end
Rev Seamers' wife, who was so good to me at Drouin, was a niece of Mr Dan Ronalds. She called her eldest son Ronald, her maiden name.
At his 'In Memorium' service a few of us, including Kitty Stammers, Mrs Syd Barr, Trevor Perry and myself, sang the piece out of Alexanders Hymn book, 'The Way of the Cross Leads Home'. This was picked out by Kitty Stammers.
One thing I must write about is having Alice's mother living with us.
We had a few differences of opinion, but generally agreed on most things.
I must, however, place on record the help she was to us and Alice in particular.
One outstanding instance of this was her insistence on Alice going on a trip to England with me. She said she would manage with a little help from other people, despite the fact she wasn't very well.
I often think what a blessing the inside toilet would have been for her, and an electric blanket, with the complaint she had.
We think of these things as we get older, but I must confess I didn't see things the same way when I was younger.
Nana also helped a lot doing little jobs around the place. Mending and sewing. I think she enjoyed being with us and the children, although I believe she had her favourites.
She liked reading and being read to. It was very sad that she didn't live long enough to hear about our trip and our visit to Rose West, her cousin with whom she corresponded. She also liked me reading things out of a book or the paper, also the services I led.
It is good that she died at home, which I believe is what she would have wanted.
She knew a lot about Warragul's early days, and sometimes she would tell us little bits. When we were driving into Warragul one day we were going down Smith Street, down the hill and past the Arts Centre, she said this was the back way into town. When they were young they used to walk on the logs that were on the track.
I believe she did some nursing for old Dr Hayes, and also for Nurse Kelly.
There would have been plenty of bush around in those days. I remember her saying that there were a lot of koalas about and that they cried like babies.
I guess we should have listened a lot more at the time, but no doubt we were busy making a living.
She spent a year of her life with her grandmother Ann Brewer at Brighton, where she had a bit of schooling. She learnt a lot from her grandmother who was a beautiful writer and we still have some of her writings.
Nana Robinson was a perserverer, and when she was writing a letter always had a little dictionary by her side to help her have correct spelling.
Like my mother, she was left on her own to fend for her family. Although like all of us she made a few mistakes, she did I believe a pretty good job, running a boarding house in tough times.
I have mentioned about Nana being at Berrigan at a cousin's wheat farm and while there she bought a little Morris car. It was a sedan, but fairly narrow in width.
However, she was very determined, and although she was getting on in years she got her drivers licence at Berrigan, in fairly level country. She then drove all the way home to Brighton
Later she brought the car up to our place, and although I didn't have my licence at that time, Alice was a good driver and we had use of it. We eventually bought it.
After I had got my licence, I was going to a clearing sale at the end of Frazers Spur Road. Jim Dawson was going with me and I didn't have any other passengers planned for. When I got to the corner of Sheffields Road along Neerim East Road, Bill Moyes was standing there looking for a ride. We stopped, and he got in and that was alright, but further along near Wattle Lane, Jim Walburn was standing by his gate looking for a ride. Feeling very hospitable we stopped again and he too got on board.
I must explain that these other men were much bigger than me, also a lot heavier too. Although they all managed to fit in the little car, it was a big load for her and she only had a small engine.
It struggled valiantly on until we came right to the end of Frazers Spur Road where there was a little steep, short pinch leading to the gateway of the farm. I had to pull up, and ask the others to get out and drive up the last bit on my own.
The little car had given of its best, but I suppose everything and everyone has their limits.
I might add that the little car got us back home after the sale had finished.
Landing in Melbourne on the 15th January 1925 as a boy of sixteen and a half years of age, after a six week journey from England, I was amazed at the development and the size of the city. Also, at the number of trains coming and going at Flinders street station, and the cable trams in the city.
What astounded me was the fact that Melbourne wasn't yet 100 years old, in fact, it was barely 90 years old at that time.
The amount of work that the pioneers of the country must have done, not only in Melbourne, but in the surrounding countryside and the State as a whole.
There were cars and taxis, but still a few horse-drawn cabs. I know there was one Hansom cab in Flinders street because, as I have stated elsewhere, I used it.
However, it was the time of change and the start of a new era. The horse-drawn type of transport was passing, and motor transport coming in. Now, 68 years later, whole large new areas have been added to greater Melbourne which in 1925 one wouldn't have thought possible.
I always thought it would have been better to have made larger provincial cities than to have developed Melbourne into such a large place. Maybe the problem would be transport of goods, and no doubt people like to live near the sea.
Alice has written the story about our trip to England in 1952, but there is one part which I will write about.
There were some English and Scottish people on board and some who had even migrated to Australia before the First World War. They hadn't been back to England since. Now, it was just seven years since the finish of the second World War. There was a great feeling of expectancy on board ship, especially in the tourist end.
I met a lady in her 70s who I found out went to Windsor Street school where I first started as a five year old. Of course, she was there years before me, and she was on her way to England for her first visit since coming to Australia.
As we sailed up the English Channel, our first sight of England was Devon and its red soil. Further along we came to the white cliffs of Dover and everyone went to the landward side of the vessel. It's a wonder it didn't tip sideways. It was a great moment and someone uttered the words of the song, "There'll always be an England." There was silence as we gazed at the white cliffs, and then someone spoke up and said, "as long as there's a Scotland." The tenseness of the moment was broken up by laughter.
I was reading a bit in a magazine about English humour during the first World War. It showed a picture of a building in France with a brick wall which had a big hole in it. A young recruit, who had just arrived in France, was enquiring of an old soldier by asking him what had caused the hole. The veteran of many battles simply wrote beneath the hole one word, "Mice!" Later on, the matter-of-fact Germans came along and put underneath the hole and the word 'mice': "it was a shell"!
It reminded me of uncle George, when someone in Neerim South was about to have his leg amputated, had asked the question, "What happened to your leg George, when you lost it in the war?" George replied, "The last time I saw it a great big dog was running across the paddock with it."
One Sunday when I was at Addisons for dinner. Uncle George brought out a box with his medals. He was showing them to Alice and I along with a few other bits and pieces.
His son Jim, who wasn't very old at the time, was looking on. Among the things he showed us was a Military Medal. Jimmy said, "What did you get that for?"
His dad gave this answer. He said, "It was a bitterly cold day in the trenches in France and I went to the cook house to get some hot soup for the troops. I got the soup in a big pannikan and on my way to the line a bullet came and put a hole in the pannikan. In order to make sure I got that much needed soup to the men, I stuck my thumb through the hole into the boiling hot soup to save it for the troops. They gave me the Military Medal for that."
Another story goes that at one time in his life he was in the French Foreign Legion, but deserted, and later on was living in Australia, married with three children. When the first World War broke out he joined the Australian army and with them was sent to Egypt. When on leave in Cairo he was fooling about with another soldier. He said something about climbing up the lamp post when along came this French Officer and he recognised him as a deserter from the French Foreign Legion.
He arrested him and put him in 'clink'. An Australian Officer got him out.
Uncle George said, "That is why I was a day late getting to Gallipoli."
I don't intend to say too much, because in a family, although they may be similar in looks, they all have their own different personalities.
Looking back over the years I have come to the conclusion that one wants a stint of training to be a good parent.
There are so many things that one thinks about and feels. Maybe I could have done better if I had known as much as I know now, but one can't turn back the clock. Neither can you put years of experience on young shoulders.
I think it would be unwise of me to go into too much detail about each of them individually. I guess there are many little stories one could relate, like the one Mary Mead (Stott) told us when we were staying with a group at Eden some years ago.
She told us that when she was a scholar at Neerim South State School, Tommy Price was in the infants' class. This particular day, being a nice day, the infants' class was being held outside.
The teacher asked Mary to mind the class. When she got to the class one of the youngsters said to her, "Tommy Price has got through the fence and gone home through the paddocks." I can only guess that they must have got him back.
One regret that I have is that we didn't go with them to more of their sports at the weekends. Cricket and football and of course Mary with her netball, and maybe gone with Tom fishing and ferreting.
We see folk spend a lot of leisure time with their children, maybe because of modern transport.
However, I think they had a good home and upbringing and were well looked after. They all seem to be very happy in their own situation.
I was just thinking about the time when Doreen worked at Peter McCallum hospital and brought a young doctor home for dinner. He was a nice well-mannered young man. When dinner was being served he very gentlemanly-like waited for us to be seated before he sat down. Of course we were trying to be on our best behaviour, then George, who was sitting opposite the doctor, called out, "Any more spuds, mum?" It broke the decorum up a bit.
I went to the Victoria Market with Baden Lacey with a load of potatoes. I don't think I was cut out for the bargaining that goes on there.
Buyers or prospective buyers would go round the market sampling the fruit and vegetables that were for sale and finding out the prices.
One time when Baden and I took a load of my potatoes down we went through Dandenong at 2:30 am. The market opened at 5 am. This particular morning when we had backed into a spot at the market, Baden said, "I think I know some one who'll take the whole load. You stay and look after things and I'll go and find out."
Well, before the lights went on people were going back and forth to sample the quality and price. A couple of Italian chaps came to me and offered me so much for two bags. Of course, I was waiting for Baden to come back to hear what he had found out about prices, and so on. Anyway these two chaps jumped on the truck and started dragging two bags towards the back. I was getting annoyed with them, because the market wasn't even officially open. I said to them, "If you don't get off this truck I'll throw you off." Much to my relief it worked, because they disappeared.
On another occasion there was just Baden and I again. Pretty soon the market opened and we sold all the potatoes to one buyer. We agreed to load them on to his truck. When we got half the load on Baden said to me, "You'd better ask him for the cash, before we finish loading, otherwise you mightn't get your money." So I went up to the buyer and asked him for the cash. He said to me, "Who in this market has been telling you I can't pay?" He sounded pretty angry and I just replied, "You know how it is, you've got to look after yourself in the market." With that he started to hand over the cash counting it as he went. He nearly got to the end when he said, "That's near enough, isn't it?" Not the life for me.
One day Tom Fowles went down with us. We were standing behind the truck waiting for buyers. I don't think potatoes were selling too well at that time.
A Chinaman went by and he said to me, "Have you got any chats?" Now chats are very small undersized spuds that you are not supposed to sell.
In reply to his question I said. "No." Tom Fowles said, "You can make chats out of these if you cut them in half." The Chinaman without stopping, quick as a flash said, "We do that if you sell them to us at chat prices." So, there was a bit of humour, too!
Although we saved agent's commission we lost a lot of time, because Baden went all over Melbourne with his truck picking up backloading. It would be after dinner by the time we arrived home, and not fit for much work that day.
I have written about my uncle George Price and how he asked me where the grandfather clock was, when we went to see him and aunt Emma in 1952.
However, he told us a few more stories. About the time he was driving a couple of horses and they 'cleared out', bolting with him hanging onto the reins. He said he didn't let go of those reins and he was dragged along. He was in bed when we visited him and he said, feeling his back, "I never let go of those reins until the horses stopped. I think that is why I have got this bad back now."
When he first looked at me, he said, "I thought I would never see you again. You are a bigger man than your father."
He went on to say, "Our Tom didn't like fighting, and I gave him a few tips. When there is a bit of trouble with Sam Parker up the laneways, wait until the other chap starts to take his coat off, and then get straight into him, while he is tangled up."
I remember my father's cousin, Joe Plevin who was a policeman in Birmingham, telling us that my grandfather Thomas Price had six brothers. So, when visiting uncle George Price at Blymhill, I asked him about his brothers. I didn't get very far and was disappointed when he replied, "I have got a church full of relations, but only a pulpit full of friends."
That was as far as I got along that line. I did not press the matter any further realizing it must have been a delicate subject with him.
Maybe they had had family troubles in the past, like so many families.
As a boy I heard bits and pieces of family history, on both sides of my forebears. I did not stay at home long enough to find out much about it. Perhaps that was the better part, but when one gets older one begins to feel more curious.
I don't think that I will write anymore. I had better live in as much of the present that there is left to me!
Dad.
I was reading in the 'Warragul Trader' paper last week about Count Von Horn, who migrated from Germany and came to Warragul many years ago. He later became a councillor for the shire of Warragul. It was also stated that he owned the first motor car in Warragul, which brought to my mind a story that the late Mr Dan Kelliher told us one night, in the Neerim South State School at a committee meeting.
He told us there was a school building just above where the old Methodist Church is, and he went to school there. One day a motor car was driven past the school. The children rushed out to see what it was as it was the first one they had ever seen.
I am not sure if it was Count Von Horn's or not, but it probably was as his was the first in the area. It's a long time since I heard this story, but it stuck in my mind as I think of all the cars around today.
I was amazed to read in the 'Sun' newspaper an article about 'A Ghost Wedding for Their Son' held in the tiny village of Blymhill on the bordsr of Shropshire and Staffordshire. The son of the Reverend Lynton Huggins and his wife Marion was being married in Australia, to an Australian girl.
Mrs Huggins thought it would be nice to have the ceremony enacted in the local Blymhill Church at the same time, as they could not go to the wedding. The Reverend Huggins played the organ and conducted the ceremony. His wife and daughter sang the hymns. Mrs Huggins said they were most disappointed they could not attend David's wedding in Brisbane so they decided to join him in spirit, and found the wedding very satisfying.
When I read this story in 1971 about the Blymhill Church, I decided to write to Mr Huggins and tell him of my father and his family's connection to Blymhill, although none of them are living there now.
He wrote a very nice letter back and that was the start of a friendship that lasted until he died a few years ago.
Indeed, when we went to England in 1972 we visited Rev and Mrs Huggins in the black and white house in which they lived. Strangely, Alice had taken a snap of me in 1952, standing in front of that same house, long before they bought it.
Rev and Mrs Huggins later decided to pay a visit to their son, who was staying in Western Australia. They were travelling on a Greek ship, which on their return journey came to Melbourne on the way to New Zealand, and home via the Panama Canal.
We arranged to meet them at Port Melbourne. Mary, one of our daughters, took us there where we picked them up and took them for a drive up into the Dandenong Ranges.
Unfortunately, it was very misty. Afterwards we went to our daughter Doreen's home for lunch, before taking the Huggins back to the boat. They were very appreciative.
Another sidelight to this story is that our son and daughter-in-law, Elaine and Robert, liked the name Lynton and that is how their son Lynton got his name.
Robert and Elaine visited Rev and Mrs Huggins at Blymhill when they went to England.
Some belated thoughts about earlier years and how our lives are molded by our natures and the people around us.
I have written about the Beck family and aunty Lizzie. They lived at a small place (at least it was then). It was a mile or two from Kings Heath, where there was a small shopping centre and also a Baptist Church. Aunt Lizzie and my mother were brought up to go to the Baptist Church and Sunday School by their parents.
Aunt Lizzie sent her children to Kings Heath Baptist Sunday School, because at that time there was no church or Sunday school of any sort at Billesly.
One Sunday when Winnie and I were there, we were sent off to Sunday School with the rest of the Beck family. Charlie the eldest boy and I went together. When we got to Kings Heath to the Church, I, being very shy, and Charlie who was not too keen, decided together to take a walk around the block and come back around the time that Sunday School came out. This is what we did.
I don't know whether the girls knew what we had done, but when we got home they never said anything to aunt Lizzie.
I think that one overcame something like being shy, with perseverance, but it is not always easy overcoming these traits in one's nature.
When I tell people about being shy, they don't believe me now.
At about the age of 15 or 16 years I did not go to the Chapel Services much, except for the PSA on Sunday afternoons. Here, they had special speakers and soloists.
I well remember they had as speaker, a Mr Burman MP. He was to speak about parliament and the way things were conducted there.
It turned out a bad choice, because at the time his visit was planned there was no thought of an election in the offing. It was a surprise, and as a result the chapel was packed, and the time came for him to speak.
He got along with his talk about how the Parliament works, when all of a sudden a young man, who used to attend there, jumped to his feet, and with his wife began to walk towards the aisle.
The speaker saw him and said, "Have I offended you brother?" The man replied, "Yes we came to hear about religion and not about politics." He then left the building and as far as I know he never came back.
Winnie worked at 'Burmans' for a long time. I believe she was a wages clerk.
At that period of my life. I liked going to the bull ring in the centre of Birmingham, just above St Martin's Church.
On a Saturday it was packed full or people, buying and selling things, with what was called a 'rag' market at the bottom end. All sorts of stuff was sold, including crockery, by auction.
I remember one night a chap was selling a cheese dish when someone called out, "What's the good of that, it's got a hole in it?" The chap doing the selling replied, "That's for the mouse to get out when he gets in!" There was a lot of good humoured banter going on. You could buy tiepins, five for a penny.
Outside, alongside the pavement were men selling baked potatoes in their skins. They were baked in a transportable oven with a salt box on the side of it.
With what we ate in those days it is a wonder we are still alive.
All this went on on Saturday, and there was also market hall. Here numerous things were sold, including oysters, winkles, shrimps, fish, and a lot of other things.
On Sunday it was so different. Nelson's monument was in the middle of the bull ring and all around, below and above as the bull ring was on a slope, were orators all voicing their message, whatever it was to the crowd gathered around.
The Salvation Army band played and some of their members spoke, and then they moved off to their Citadel with people following them. Some of them went into the hall but others wandered off.
Other speakers had their own 'axe to grind'. The Roman Catholic Evidence Guild had their platform too. This caused some frenzied arguments among some of the onlookers.
I remember standing near a group when one man raised his hand to strike another during an argument. On the spur of the moment I grabbed his arm and stopped him. I thought afterwards that I was lucky he didn't turn on me.
Writing about the bull ring brought to my mind one particular incident.
On the corner of a street named Lionel Street, there was a small Post Office with a caretaker's house alongside. Here a policeman named Sergeant Taylor and his wife lived. I might add that Lionel Street crossed Ludgate Hill where we used to live.
Mr Taylor was a big man and a friend of my fatners. They used to go to some meetings together. I have heard it said that Mr Taylor, in his duty as policeman would go down some or the worst streets in Birmingham on his own, whereas other policemen would go in pairs.
Around the street where we lived the old houses were disappearing and office blocks and so on were taking their place.
At the weekends, streets around there were generally pretty quiet. I remember one Saturday or Sunday afternoon a group of youths started gambling on the street corner opposite Mr Taylor's house. He saw them and came out. When they saw him coming they shot off down the street with him after them.
He caught one and marched him back to his house, and gave him a good hiding and then let him go. We could hear the youth singing out. The result, they never came back to gamble on the footpath in that spot.
I guess if a policeman did that now, he would be sued, but it did the job.
However, what has that got to do with the Bull Ring? I have mentioned previously that when my father died suddenly in 1918 we were living in the lockkeeper's house. The Birmingham Canal Navigation Company allowed us to stay there for a further 2 years. They then gave notice to mother to vacate the house because they wanted it for another workman.
We had to find somewhere else to live and houses were very scarce after the war ended.
Just before this happened there had been a police strike in Birmingham. Sergeant Taylor was the only sergeant to go out, and they all got the sack. Now Mr Taylor had 23 years service up to that time and just 2 or more years to go before he retired on the pension.
He lost all that for going on strike. Naturally it made him very bitter, and he voiced his concerns and opinions on a Sunday night at the Bull Ring.
Now, mother consulted him, he being a friend of our dad's, thinking he may be able to help us in some way, maybe to find another house.
One night I was among the crowd and heard Mr Taylor speaking. I was very surprised to hear him say, "Now we have the Birmingham Canal Navigation Company turning a wife and her children out of their home."
I guess he thought he was helping in some way. The strange thing was that when we were there in 1952 we went and saw the house and spoke to the lady who lived there. She said her husband only worked for the BCN company for two years and they had been there since we left in 1920.
While there at that time we met an old lady named Mrs Bates, who lived in one of those houses when we were there and she knew my mother.
When she knew who I was she took hold of both of my hands and said, "Harry Price, just like your mother!" I remember when we were young, going into their little front room. Her husband Harry Bates was a Welshman from Wrexham in Wales. He loved singing. He would sing something like, "You wore a tulip and I wore a big red rose," and he'd sing with his strong voice, and enjoy it. I have never heard that song since, as far as I can remember.
I have written about collecting for Church Funds, but when money was a bit scarce we decided to plough up a bit of ground behind the Church and plant potatoes in it. We would then sell them and give the proceeds to the Church. Some of the members gave the seed and some gave superphosphate.
I had the job of ploughing the ground with two horses and a single furrow plough. I guess it was because we lived the closest, just over the road.
The land was prepared and the day to plant the spuds had come. There were several of us there including Mr Mackintosh, senior. I was ploughing and after a little while when I got back to the top end of the paddock, Mr Mackintosh asked me quietly if I would mind him adjusting the circular coulter on the plough. He had noticed it wasn't making a clean cut on the side of the furrow. He got the spanner off me and fixed it.
A small matter, but it showed something of his character, liking things to be done properly.
At the same time he asked if I had struck any roots while ploughing, and I replied, "No." He said that was because of good clearing and that he had helped to clear that ground.
It's wonderful the things that are stored up in one's mind.
Even though we didn't have our dad very long I can still remember his curly hair and the long curl he had at the top of his forehead. I can remember as a very small boy trying to make mine go the same way. Also I remember watching him shave with the old fashioned blade razor and having square pieces of newspaper to clean the soap and whiskers off.
He was very strict about not playing games on Sunday, and only singing hymns and not secular songs.
Although, as far as I can remember he wasn't a regular Church attender, but of course the war was on most of the time that I remembered him.
I do remember however, him taking us to Birmingham Cathedral to some service one night and sitting in the balcony. He was brought up in the Church of England and was a choir boy I believe, in the village church where he lived.
The old Minister who was there for many years was the Rev Bridgeman who was a cousin of the Earl of Bradford. He owned a lot of land around there.
Dad played both cricket and football. Mother said he was good at both. Although old Parson Bridgeman played cricket and so did the Earl of Bradford at the time, he didn't like football, and didn't like dad playing it.
Some of these thoughts are a bit vague in my memory because they are things I had been told by our mother years ago.
I really set out to write about some of my father's sayings. He never said that the time was 25 to 10, always 5 and 20 to 10. When he wanted us to shut the gate it was "Shut the wicket;" it probably stemmed from what used to be called a wicket gate. Another one was, when he wanted the door shut, he would say. "Put the wood in the hole."
We have a prayer book he gave my mother in 1903 before they were married.
He also got the old family grandfather clock, from his mother. I was told it wasn't going at the time. He later took it from Blymhill to Birmingham after he had soldered the hand on that was broken, cleaned it all and got it working again.
He bought his mother a wall clock to take its place, because she asked what she was going to do for time.
I would like to have had my dad for a bit longer, but it is not in our hands.
When he was a little boy in the country he must have lived somewhere near a canal, because he fell into the water. The story goes that his mother grabbed him by his curly hair and pulled him out.
Another thing I remember is that, when we were sitting around the table at mealtimes, if dad noticed us in a slouched position he would sit up, straighten his back, and Winnie and I would follow suit and get the message not to slouch over.
Although Winnie and I were not very old we played whist with mum and dad.
Another thing I remember about my dad, he used to smoke a pipe with what was called 'twist' tobacco in it. Twist tobacco came in a long sort of stick and when we were sent to the tobacconists at the corner we would ask for half an ounce of twist. The shopkeeper, who was also a barber, would cut a length of twist off the main piece with a small type of guillotine which he had on the counter.
Dad would sit in front of the fire in his big armchair, making spills from some slivers of wood and light his pipe with them.
Mother's maiden aunt, Alice Walton, was another one who was always telling me to stand up straight. My cousin Harry Jones who was in France in the first World War when he was 16 years old, saw me talking to some other lads on a street corner one day and I heard him say, "I saw young Harry standing on the street corner and he looked like the letter C, England's last hope."
I wasn't very impressed and since those days have tried to stand up straight. My grandfather, Henry Humphreys, was in the army in the South Wales Borderers' regiment and served in India. I understand he was invalided out of the army. There were two oil paintings of him taken from a small photograph of him in 1860 when he was 19 years of age.
His wife Elizabeth Humphreys nee Walton, had a brother also in the army named James Walton. He became a Chelsea Pensioner in the late 1800s, and was there until he died in 1911.
Of course I didn't remember him, being too young, but I have been told by older cousins that he came to Birmingham once a year, to visit his sister and other relatives. He stayed for a few weeks. He grew dahlias and showed them in the Chelsea flower show and got a prize. He brought some bulbs to Birmingham. Winnie wrote to London for his records and was even told his grave number, and how many years that he was a Chelsea Pensioner.
Mother had a brother, John Humphreys and a brother-in-law, Arthur Jones, both serving in the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, first in India. The story I heard was that uncle Arthur came back to England on leave and mother's brother Jack gave Arthur a parrot to take home to England to his mother.
Our mother said the parrot was a good talker and used to say, "Polly's sick, fetch the doctor, quick, quick, quick!"
Uncle Arthur, through taking that parrot home to Jack Humphreys' mother, met her eldest daughter Mary. They eventually married and had four children: Arthur, Harry, Florence and James.
Uncle Jack and uncle Arthur were sent to South Africa when the Boer war broke out. Uncle Jack was shot in both wrists. This caused him a lot of trouble in the depression, after the first World War, when he lost his job and had to turn his hand to navvying work.
He had tried to join the army in the first World War, but they would not take him because of varicose veins in his legs.
He used to come to our place and say to my mother. "Well Hilda. I tried another place to enlist today, but they turned me down."
When he came to our place, and was ready to leave, he would say, "I had better be getting back to England." A relic of his overseas service.
He had an allotment and grew vegetables and took them around to various relatives.
Thinking about the Cowdens, I remember going across the creek one night to visit them. When I went into the kitchen Mr Cowden was sitting on one side of the fireplace and Hector on the other.
They were peeling a big pot of apples to stew. Of course I was talking as usual when Mrs Cowden said, "I like you to come over Mr Price," (it was always Mr in those days) "because when you talk these men never say anything."
I had recently read in the 'Warragul Gazette', in the agent's notices, that Tom McClumphas' old piece of land on Caldwell Road, Shady Creek, was to be auctioned.
Tom Mack's land of 112 acres with a good house on it was put up for auction and the report said that there was a good attendance of buyers, but it was passed in. Today, in the Gazette, I have seen an advertisement about the place with a price tag of $135,000.
The land was mostly bush when Tom bought it, except for a strip along Shady Creek with a small hut on it.
Tom Mack cut a good few acres, burned it in the March and sowed grass on it. When he got married he left the place, and sold it to Meg and Charlie Caldwell, hence the name of the road. Charlie, like Tom, was a Scotsman.
Tom Mack gave Charlie a pretty good go to give him a start. Charlie persevered and did well. He built a house and cleared more land, and got rid of the stumps that were there in the 1930s.
What has intrigued me, on thinking about this place, was how Tom Mack came there in the first place. He was a friend of Mr and Mrs Albert Awty.
Mr and Mrs Awty had stayed at Tom Mack's mother's place in Berrigan, NSW where she farmed with a partner (Mr Madill I believe his name was).
The strange thing was that Alice's mother had a cousin, Will Leary, and his two sons, Geoff and Will, who also had a wheat farm there. Mrs Robinson (Alice's mother) had met Mr and Mrs Awty when they were up there visiting, so of course they were pleased to meet again at Neerim South (Marion's aunt was Mrs Albert Awty).
Another connection with the Neerim District, was that the first Mrs Will Leary (he had been married twice), was a sister of Mr Joe Callow, a wheelwright of Neerim, who was also the Registrar of Births and Deaths.
Mr Callow was a beautiful writer, and registered the births of all our children. I liked to watch him write the names down and when I remarked on his writing he wrote me a sample to take away.
Geoff Leary called to see us after visiting his uncle at Neerim, when we were living in our old place.
George Lynas probably knows more about Tom Mack's side than I, but it seems strange how people and families are interwoven. If I remember rightly Tom paid a little over 2 pounds per acre for the place.
A little sidelight on Tom McClumphas' sense of humour. Being a Scot he used to say to me "Remember Bannockburn!" Of course that was where Edward the Second was defeated by the Scots led by Robert Bruce and William Wallace, even though the English had greater numbers.
One day we both walked into Danny O'Driscoll's shop. He was an Irishman, and didn't like the English at all. The cricket test matches between England and Australia were in progress, in fact there was a match going on then, and England was losing.
Tom Mack asked him how the match was going, and Danny quickly told him about England losing, and added, "Good enough for them, good enough for them." He said it twice as if to emphasise the fact. Tom replied. "I hate the English, but I hope they win the Test Match." With that remark we walked out of the shop.
I believe one day when England lost the match, he went up and down the street ringing his shop bell.
I must say in fairness that I got on well with Danny. We met at odd times down the street when he came back for a visit, and had a friendly chat.
One of our earlier home missionaries during our time at Neerim South was Mr Hedley Phillip. He hadn't been married very long.
His sister Florrie came to visit them, and met Lawson Swaffield, whom she later married. They had two daughters, Rhonda and Carol.
However, getting back to Hedley, who had been a concrete worker before going into the Home Mission College, 'Otira', at Kew. This was where students studied when going into the Methodist Ministry.
He told me that once when he was working on a slab of concrete, and smoothing it with a float to get it near perfect, a young boy came along and intentionally stabbed his foot into the sand and dirt nearby. It flew all over the bed of concrete that Hedley had so painstakingly finished.
Hedley said that he was so wild with the boy, that he chased him with the cement float in his hand. He was glad he never caught him because he thought he would have killed him.
Hedley was prepared to help me to put a slab of concrete in my cowyard. We had already put some concrete down but it wasn't a success. I wasn't very experienced at the work and learnt a lot from Hedley Phillips.
One day, we laid one big square of concrete down by dinnertime. It was too wet to put the finishing touches, so Hedley said, "I will go home and have some dinner and by the time I come back it will be dry enough to work up." He had it nice and level, but unfortunately, Tom, who wasn't very old thought that he would investigate. He walked right up and down this slab of concrete twice leaving holes all over it.
Thinking about Hedley and the boy who spoiled his work. I thought that I had better try and smooth it over before Hedley came back. I spent most of my dinner time doing just that, although Hedley had told me previously that you can't fix holes in wet concrete without putting more concrete in them.
Anyhow, if he noticed anything wrong he didn't mention it, and finished the job off.
When thinking about this story, it brought to mind about the time when Alice use to have old Georgina Moyes come to do a bit of sewing for her. At that time, we didn't have a sink in the kitchen, but we had a water tank outside with a tap coming through the wall fairly low down. There was a kerosene tin cut length ways in half to catch the drips from the tap and also to put a few slops in.
One day when Mrs Moyes was in the other room busily sewing away, she had taken her shoes off. When she went to get them Tommy had one shoe bailing water out of this tin.
Alice has just informed me that the old lady had taken her shoes off and put them in front of the fire to dry. She had walked across the paddocks from her place and they were wet. I suppose one of them got wetter.
One last thing I remember about Hedley Phillips. Like most of us, he had a wood burning stove and fireplace and needed some wood. I offered him some bits of logs that were lying at the furthest point of our place down at the creek.
He was pleased with this offer, and one day set off down the paddock with a wheelbarrow and axe. He was busy cutting wood when a young chap by the name of Mick Dennison came along. He was working for Mr Bill Moyes at the time.
Now Mick was a bit of a character. He loved catching snakes and had a lot of them strung along the fence that enclosed the railway line. After talking to Hedley for a while he asked him to show his axe. When Hedley obliged, he tested the sharpness of the blade and then, taking aim, he threw it up a tree. It lodged fairly high up. They couldn't reach it so Hedley had to trudge right up the hill to our place to get a ladder to get his axe down. He then finished his job.
In these days one would go down there on the tractor or perhaps a four wheel drive truck. At that time it meant catching the horses and yoking them up which took some time.
The ideal way would have been to have a stable in which to feed the horses. It would have been better for them and better for me. Money was scarce at the time, and it took a lot of thought about what to buy and what was necessary.
I have just been reading about Boscobel and Whiteladies Priory nearby. I was very interested in the article having been there when I was a boy, and also in 1972 when we visited England.
Unfortunately it was being renovated at the time so we didn't see very much.
Boscobel House was in Shropshire, just over the border from Staffordshire and Blymhill where my grandmother, Catherine Price, lived.
When I stayed with her in the holidays I used to like hearing her talk about various things that happened in the old days.
She was born in 1838 and had a good memory, telling about her father who was a gardener. My memory is not very clear, but either he or his father were sitting down in the green house smoking a pipe when he went to sleep. He got badly burnt when the pipe fell out of his mouth.
The old lady said that none of her brothers smoked. She also spoke about Boscobel House which she knew well, as she worked there when she was a young girl.
One thing she mentioned was a place called 'Priest's Hole'. When there was a persecution the priests could hide in a hole in the chimney.
My grandmother told me that the other girls put her in the Priest's Hole one day as a bit of a joke. It wasn't a joke for her.
She also said that there was a secret passage from Boscobel House to the Whiteladies Priory. I might add that this place was only about five miles from where grandma lived. When we were staying with her once we walked over to there. Mother, Winnie, I and grandma, who was about eighty. She made the journey there and back on foot with us. On the way back she pointed out a couple of old chimneys that had been part of an old house that was now in ruins. She told us it had been the Old Dames School where she learned to read but not to write.
She did not like towns or cities, but preferred the quiet cottage life in the country.
Towards the close of her life my cousin Bill Henshaw lived with her. One Sunday morning when I was there, Bill stayed in bed a bit later than usual as he didn't have to go to work. The old lady, who was always up early about 5 or 6 am called out, "Bill Henshaw, if you don't get up soon I'll tell all the village you're still in bed." She didn't worry about me. I'm glad that she doesn't see the time I get up sometimes now.
She used to have to go up a lane about 40 yards to get her water from a pump. She was very pleased when I was there because it was a novelty for me to do the job and saved her.
She did have a pump at the back door, but the water was hard and not fit for use in the house.
Nowadays all these places are sewered and have running water. A lot of cottages have been bought and done up by people from nearby towns.
While I was working at Glen Waverley between the years 1925 and 1927 an incident took place that may be worth recording. It shows the advancement made in collecting blood for transfusions.
A Glen Waverley man was working on a house and was injured badly. He was in the Alfred hospital. His brother. I believe, gave blood for a transfusion as his blood was the right type.
I don't know how much blood he gave at the time, but they wouldn't take any more from him so they had to look for someone else to donate blood.
The owner of the house where the injured man was working was looking for volunteers to go and have their blood tested to see if they were the right type to donate.
He got three young fellows and somehow I was the fourth. I can't remember how I got roped in except perhaps because the man was a friend of Mr and Mrs Pudney or Miss Stuart. Anyway, be that as it may, he drove us into the Alfred hospital, Melbourne, in his old tourer car. There, we were taken up some stairs to a small room. In this room were a few gadgets of one sort or another also a microscope.
The man in charge took a drop of blood from the bottom of the ear of each one of us in turn. He then mixed it on a glass plate under the microscope to see if it clotted or mixed well. If it clotted our blood would be no use to the patient.
Unfortunately, for the man who required it, the blood of all four of us was not suitable. We were driven back to Glen Waverley and had a trip for nothing.
I might add that the man doing the testing gave us a look through the microscope.
I write this to show what great progress has been made over the years, with blood banks and many blood donors. There is blood of different types on hand all the time.
I thought I would write a bit about the doctors and nursing sisters and others who have served us so well during our time at Neerim South. Also, the local Bush Nursing hospital.
We appreciate very much the good service that we have enjoyed over the last 62 years.
First of all I will write about the doctors who have been here and I will begin with Dr Andrews, followed by Dr Dorman who was here when we first arrived.
Dr Ruby Townsend was next and she arrived about 1937. She was here all through the war years and for a fair while after.
If my memory serves me correctly, she was followed by Dr Ron Saunders. Then came Dr John Buries.
We then had the good fortune to have a husband and wife team, Drs John and Jill Murtagh.
They were followed by Drs Steve and Liz Jedynak, another husband and wife team.
This (as far as I can recall) were the doctors who served us during our long stay in Neerim South. We owe a lot for their help and understanding many times.
If I have left any out I apologize as my memory is not as good as it was.
We did not have a great deal to do with Dr Dorman until our first baby was coming and Alice went to see him.
I think he was living in the house where Mr and Mrs David Green are living now.
Dr Dorman was in attendance when our eldest son Thomas Arthur was born. Sister McGregor was in charge of the hospital assisted by her aunt, Sister Jackson, who I understand was a first World War nurse.
I remember that Dr Dorman said to Alice after Tom was born, "What a lovely baby he is," and that he "wouldn't mind having him." Alice wasn't too keen on giving him away and said "you are not getting him" or words to that effect.
In 1937 I was asked to become a member of the hospital committee, and had been nominated by Mr Wilfred Andersen. He had helped the hospital a lot. especially in its early years.
Mr Frank Burns, the local Butter Factory Manager, who was also the secretary of the hospital, walked up to our place to tell me that I had been elected. The first meeting I attended was in the kitchen of the old hall. It was also the first meeting Dr Ruby Townsend attended. We were both welcomed by the President. Mr W J Moyes.
There was a good attendance of both men and ladies, Three of the ladies I remember quite well. Mrs Ned Kelliher, Mrs W J Moyes and Mrs A L Benallock, the forestry officer's wife. There were others of course, like Mrs Jack Algie and Jack too.
The meetings at that time were conducted very correctly, with speakers standing to speak. I mostly listened until I got used to the business.
Over the next 40 years I attended most of the monthly meetings, only missing a few in 1952 when I had a couple of weeks in the Warragul hospital, and went on a trip to England in the same year.
All the other members of our family were born during Dr Townsend's time in Neerim South. I can't remember the names of all the sisters that were there during that time, but I will name a few. Sisters Marten, Cameron and Doreen Weaver who later became Sister Doreen Doolan. I think Sister Doolan was the longest serving sister of them all. She served at both the old hospital and the new.
There were many changes in the composition of personnel of the hospital committee over the years that I was there. There were also three sons who followed in their father's footsteps and became president, too. Mr Ned Kelliher and his son Ted. Mr Robert Heywood and Arthur, who also did a stint as secretary too (Arthur's wife Steve was also secretary for a number of years). We also had Les Johnson, who was followed years later by his son Robert who is still active on the committee.
I don't remember when Dr Townsend left Neerim South, but I do remember she was here in 1952, because I was very sick early in the year, and she got Dr Peake from Warragul to come and look at me. He put me in the Warragul hospital for treatment and observation. I received penicillin injections every day and gradually got better. Dr Peake said I could go home after I had a blood sample taken. It is different today as they always take blood samples first.
When I went back to see Dr Peake he said I had an abortive fever, sometimes called undulent fever. This could be contracted by handling cows with dead calves. Be that as it may, there was a new tablet which had just come on the market, also it was on the free medicine list. It was just as well as they cost 13 shillings each and I only had two at a time.
About May in 1952 we decided to go to England to see some of my family as it was 27 years since I had left.
Alice's mother, Mrs Robinson said "You are not going on your own. Alice will have to go with you. We will manage here." But that is another story.
Getting back to Dr Townsend, when we had boarded the ship at Port Melbourne and were waiting for departure. Dr Townsend, her sister and Miss Ruby Mackintosh turned up. They had brought a food parcel for us to take to her sister who lived at Epsom. Unfortunately they arrived too late and the gangways to board the ship had been taken up. Alas, we were unable to get the parcel.
We had a fairly large box containing food to take to our relations so when we visited the doctor's sister we took some of our foodstuffs to them. Food rationing still continued even though it was seven years after the war.
Dr Townsend's sister's husband was a retired Naval Officer. We went by train from London to Epsom. When we were about to leave the commander got out his little car, and said. "I haven't been to London lately, so I will drive you up and see if Nelson is still on his column, and if he is, then everything is alright" He used to go up to London every day during the war.
Getting back to our doctors and the hospital committee, I would mention that to my recollection we held a hospital committee meeting in every room of the old hall. To name a few, the ticket office, library, supper room and the kitchen. The old hall has a lot of memories for me in that respect and for many others too.
I would like to add that I think Dr Townsend did a good job in this District, serving and helping people especially during the war years when doctors were scarce. She was good to Alice's mother when she was sick, and very helpful later when she died at home.
Dr Ron Saunders was our next doctor more or less starting out in practice and he was young and progressive.
It was he who put Harry, who was only four or five years old into hospital when he was having trouble with his breathing. They put a tube up his nose.
Alice had to go and sleep at the hospital in the ward to keep an eye on him at night. This was to make sure the tube stayed in place, as there was only one sister in charge at the time.
In passing I would like to pay tribute to the many sisters who have worked at the hospital over many years.
Dr Saunders was here in 1955 when I was unexpectedly made president, even though I wasn't even vice-president.
John White had been president for two years and that according to the constitution of the hospital was the length of term allowed. He was made acting president for another year after which Dave Allard followed and was kept on as acting president for a year
John White became Secretary and the meetings dragged on until after midnight. Here, I must say that he worked hard for the hospital.
After an Annual meeting there were a lot of new members elected to the committee, There seemed to be two groups in the meeting that didn't get on well together. I think that one group thought that the old guard dominated the business too much. Sometimes meetings were not too pleasant.
At this time the hospital was being altered and a nurses' home was being built. We had the usual monthly meetings and also a lot of sub-committee meetings with George McDonald who was clerk of works. Tenders had been called for the job, but unfortunately the man who got the job was unable to finish. We had to finish with day labour.
George McDonald supervised, and signed all the bills before they were paid.
I remember at one meeting Dr Saunders had suggested to me that the nursery be made bigger by joining two sections together, because there were a lot of babies due in the near future.
Some members were strongly against this idea. Anyway I eased the tension in the meeting, when in my effort to explain the situation I said "there was going to be a glut of babies." There was a lot of laughter especially from George McDonald who had a great laugh. It's surprising how a bit of humour calms things down sometimes.
After six months during my term as president, Arthur Heyward took on the secretary's job from John White and the meetings were a bit quicker finishing.
We were sorry when we heard that Dr Saunders was leaving and going to Frankston to practice.
Dr P Buries was our next doctor. He was a big, tall Englishman, who I understand was a teacher before he became a doctor. Dr and Mrs Buries had three sons and the youngest was very friendly with our boys and spent a lot of time at our place.
Both he and his wife attended the hospital committee. I remember one night in particular, at the previous meetincg to the one in question, Dr Burles had requested some new piece of equipment for the hospital. He felt it was very necessary and the committee decided to get it 'on approval'. I don't remember what it was but it came and Dr Buries was very satisfied with it so he bought it.
The president at the time, John Delzoppo, ruled that he should have waited for the meeting to sanction the purchase.
Mrs Burles then entered the argument saying, "you have done things Mr President and got them endorsed by the committee afterwards." Whereupon the president said "If you don't accept my ruling I'll vacate the chair." This he did and Mr Ted Evans the vice-president took the chair.
I was quietly thinking to myself, as this stalemate continued, that there had been a lot of publicity in the press about country hospitals over one thing or another. As we were building a new hospital at the time we didn't needed any more trouble.
I got to my feet and said as much to the meeting and John went graciously back to the chair much to Ted Evans relief and also the rest of us. John was a good Chairman and he has gone onto higher things; at least they should be higher.
Next came our first husband and wife team Dr John and Dr Jill Murtagh.
One day I fell while getting over the fence and stubbed my middle finger on a lump of concrete and knocked it sideways at the top. It was very painful and Alice took me to the surgery which was not far away. We were sent to the hospital where John Murtagh fixed it up for me. He said that the nerves and tendons were all jangled together, anyway he made a very good job of it. It healed up very well and has given me no trouble since.
While the Murtaghs were here, on another occasion, I was in a two-bed ward with another chap who was very restless. He wanted to get out of hospital. He asked me if I had seen his watch, and when I said no, he took his bed to pieces, but didn't find it. Early in the morning he decided to leave by the back way down the steps. I knew it was no good me trying to stop him.
When he had gone I told the little sister who was in charge that our friend had gone. She rang the doctor and went after him. They got him going up the hill towards the town and brought him back. Dr Murtagh gave him a good talking to. He came from up Noojee way and I believe had the DTs. I have to say he made his bed up before he left.
Dr Jill during her stay, helped us get Carols by Candlelight going in front of the State School at Neerim South. She was assisted by the Anglican Minister, Charles Kenny, who suggested the idea, and the Roman Catholic Priest. It went very well for a few years, but owing to the inclement weather one night we had to go into the hall, and like a lot of things it faded out.
We had items too as well as Carol singing. One night I sang a couple of solos. During the week I went into the General Store where Neerim South Timber and Hardware are now, and the old German lady wife of the storekeeper said to me, "Was that you the other night singing and setting all the dogs off barking?"
While Drs John and Jill Murtagh were here we came into contact with Dr Saunders again, because he came to Neerim South to do a few operations. In fact he operated on me for varicose veins in my legs.
Dr Murtagh told me he could do the job. But I went to hospital on the understanding that Dr Saunders would do the operation with the help of John Murtagh.
I must push on and come to our present doctors, Dr Steve and Elizabeth Jedynak who have been here for a number of years They are continuing to serve this District for its medical requirements and have built up a good practice with people coming from a wide area.
They have built a new medical centre on the other side of town and have student doctors from time to time. Specialists come to the hospital for consultations for various complaints.
We ourselves as we are growing older have used their services and facilities over the last few years. In fact, during the last few weeks they have come to our place when Alice and I have been sick, and were unable to go to the surgery, sometimes at awkward times.
So I pay my tribute and respect to our doctors who have served so well over a long period of time in the old and the new hospitals. The domestic staff who have done the cleaning and cooking the meals, all of them playing their own roles in the running of our hospital. We say thank you to one and all.
H T Price, Neerim South, 1995.
I am writing down just a few thoughts and reflections of what I have seen and heard about the old clock, which has been in the family for many generations. These few lines are dedicated to those who come after.
I was born in a house in Pitt Street, Birmingham, England, on the 23rd of May, 1908. We left this house to live in a Birmingham Canal Navigation Company house in Ludgate Hill, Birmingham, when I was about five or so years old. I cannot remember the clock being in the house at Pitt Street. My first recollection of it was in the house in Ludgate Hill and in my mind's eye I can still see the spot where it stood.
This house and the one in Pitt Street, and I think in fact all the houses in which we lived in Birmingham have since been demolished (though they were all still standing in 1952 when we visited England).
My father and mother and grandmother all told us that the old clock was over 100 years old, which we children of course thought was very old. My grandmother (Catherine Price nee Simmons), lived near the small village of Blymhill on the border of Staffordshire and Shropshire.
My father died on the 24th March, 1918, but we continued to live in the canal house at Ludgate Hill until we had to move to make way for an employee of the BCNC.
We moved to Nursery Road, Lozells and occupied part of a house and then some time later moved to Anglesey Street also in Lozells, and then finally moved to no. 98 Ashted Row, from which house I left for Australia on the 4th December, 1924.
Well the old clock was shifted from house to house, and keeping good time, all the time. My cousin Harry Jones was the one who usually helped mother to shift the clock and set it up again in the next place of residence.
When my mother died in 1930, Winnie left Ashted Row and went to live with aunt Mary and uncle Arthur at 228 Burbury Street, Lozells; so the clock was taken there. In 1936 Winnie decided to send it to Australia to me, as it was the male in the family it went to. She got Thomas Cook and Son, Agents, to pack it and send it to Neerim South, Victoria. I got a local carrier to pick it up in Melbourne and bring it home.
It was in good order when it arrived except that the pendulum was broken and had to be welded (it cost five pounds to send it from England to Australia). This may have caused the clock to lose time as it had kept perfect time in England. The only shift it has had since arriving in Australia is from George's house to here.
There are a few facts about it that I learned when visiting England in 1952. I asked my uncle George Price, who was then eighty and living at Blymhill, why he didn't have the family clock, and he said his mother had asked him if he wanted it and he had replied that he couldn't take a clock with him to the different places that he worked.
Apparently my father had asked permission to take the clock to Birmingham. When uncle George, who was five years older than my dad, said he didn't want it, my father cleaned it up, soldered a broken hand on, got it going and took it to Birmingham. He gave his mother a wall clock in place of it. Uncle George said he had wound up the clock many times.
When in England I asked uncle George how old the clock was and he replied, "I don't know, but my old grandfather had it when I was a baby."
We saw two clocks made by the same man, one in Orton Hall, Shifnal, which was an eight day wall clock, made in 1802 and another in the Wellington Church Tower, Shropshire.
The man who made it in Shifnal was named William Davis and afterwards he moved to Shrewsbury where he was a clockmaker. He died in 1825 so we were informed.
The man who wrote about antiques in the 'Women's Weekly' estimated that the old clock was made between 1760 and 1770. My old grandmother who died about 1929 in her 89th year said to me, when I was a small boy on holiday at Blymhill, "YOU MUSTN'T SELL THAT CLOCK!," so it is still with us more than 50 years later.
In January, 1982, a Mr Beer of Moe took the works of the clock away and cleaned it and fixed up the striking which had gone wrong because a tooth had broken off one of the cogs. He made another one. He also made the brass keyhole, the original one having been removed in England, and also put a lock on it. He asked me if we wanted to sell it as he could get $1,800 for it. I said, "No! My old grandmother said you mustn't sell that clock, it is over 100 years old." And so I wont!
First and foremost we give thanks to God for his goodness to us over the years, when we have our 'ups and downs' as far as sickness is concerned, and here we are today sixty years and at the moment both feeling well. It was a bit strange how we were brought together, Alice coming from Brighton, Melbourne, to stay with her uncle and aunt, Mrs and Mr George Addison who at that time had the butcher's shop at Neerim South.
I was on a semi-bush block at Shady Creek with Albert Awty, having spent five years at Drouin and meeting Mrs and Mr Awty at the Methodist church there and becoming good friends with them. Alice and I first met in Bible class at the church in Neerim South and got talking after the meeting and have been talking more or less ever since.
We have had a happy married life, all spent in Neerim South except for some trips to England and we have been blessed with a good family who have helped us a lot over recent years when we were in any trouble.
Our children were all born in the Neerim District Bush Nursing hospital near the present Secondary College. I can't say that we have never had any arguments but we have always managed to resolve them peacefully.
I like to think of the old gentleman who had been married for 50 years and had just had a difference of opinion with his wife, so he walked out into his garden and as he went said to his wife "let us leave the arguing dear until after our honeymoon is over."
Alice came from the Baptist church in Brighton where her great grandparents had been foundation members. My mother was also brought up in the Baptist church, but years later went to the Methodist church. I mention this to show that we had a lot in common on which to build a marriage.
In conclusion I would say that like all people, we have had many happy times and a few sad ones. I would like to thank all the people who have helped in various ways as we were both strangers when we came here in 1932. Also that we were married on the 20th April 1935 at the old Methodist church at Neerim South, by a Baptist minister who was at the Brighton Baptist church where Alice grew up, the late Rev Eric Holloway. Mrs Ina Cowden nee Purdy played the organ. Our wedding reception was held in the old Neerim South Coffee Palace run by Mrs Sheills, and Mrs Jessie Norman nee Hetherton waited on the tables at the reception.