state library of south australia j. d. somerville oral … · the interview session resulted in two...

r i e L Z •11 STATE4Government L I B R A R Y

of South Australia

STATE LIBRARY OF SOUTH AUSTRALIA

J. D. SOMERVILLE ORAL HISTORYCOLLECTION

OH 1/28

Full transcript of an interview with

A. M. 'CORAL' STARKE

on 7 March 1986

by Beth Robertson

for

'SA SPEAKS': AN ORAL HISTORY OF LIFE INSOUTH AUSTRALIA BEFORE 1930

Recording available on cassette

Access for research: Unrestricted

Right to photocopy: Copies may be made for research and study

Right to quote or publish: Publication only with written permission from theState Library

ATB/13/129-6061 M r s A.M. 'Coral' STARKE i i'S.A. SPEAKS' 8 6 0 6

TABLE O F CONTENTS

Preface

Notes to the Transcript

Family and BackgroundMining tradit ion on both sidesLoving fami ly l i fe

Page

U I

iv

1

Making do - kerosene tins and tent l i fe 1 0

Childhood 1 2Family movements: Dandenong, Jamestown, MoontaPastimes and mischief

Schooling 1 9Mother's alienation from Cathol ic Church

Hummock Hi l l - Whyalla 2 1A comical funeralPastimesHousingShoppingTeeth troubles and home remediesReading

Domestic ServiceNurse maidWaitress at the Men's RanchJoining fami ly in Port PineHousemaid at the Port Pine and Central hotels

Courtship and MarriageGranny Johns' dancesWhyalla wedding

Collateral Material in File 8606 includes:Photographs P8606A,B.

37

42

Cover Illustration ' C o r a l ' and Al len Starke's wedding photograph. The photographwas taken s ix months a f te r the January 1930 wedding and in Port P ine becausethere had been no photographer i n Whyalla a t t h e t ime . N o r were there anyflowers so the bouquet was ar t i f ic ia l . P8606B.

ATB/13/129-6061 M r s A.M. 'Coral' STARKE i i i'S.A. SPEAKS' 8 6 0 6

PREFACE

Amy Maud 'Coral ' Starke (nee Burns) was born in Clunes, Victor ia in 1908.Both her parents came f rom mining stock and Coral's fa ther, an engine driver inmines, i r r igat ion works and f lour mil ls, upheld their footloose tradit ion. Before thefamily (wi th nine children) moved to Whyalla in about 1916, Coral could rememberl i fe i n Barooga and Dandenong in Vic tor ia and Jamestown and Moonta in SouthAustralia. The fami ly sett led into thei r makeshift home and the rough and readyl i fe o f burgeoning 'Hummock Hi l l ' . A f t e r leaving school at fourteen Coral workedfor two years as a nurse maid and then for a short t ime as a waitress at the Men'sRanch before joining her parents in Port Pine where she worked as a housemaid atthe Por t P ine and Central hotels. During this t ime she met her husband- to-be, awharf worker, a t one o f Granny Johns's dances. She returned wi th her parents toWhyalla where she was married on 1 January 1930.

Mrs Starke was 78 years of age at the t ime of the interview.

Mrs Starke is not always consistent in her memory of dates and ages - hardlysurprising considering how frequently the fami ly moved about in her early chi ld-hood. However she has an excellent memory for day-to-day l i fe and is a born storytel ler. There i s some background noise - coughing, birdsong and t r a f f i c - bu trecord levels are very good. The day was extremely hot and the mains electr ic i tyblacked ou t towards the end o f the interv iew which was thereafter recorded onbatteries.

The interview session resulted in two hours and ten minutes of tape recordedinfor mation.

'S.A. Speaks: A n Oral History o f L i fe in South Austral ia before 1930' was aJubilee 150 pro ject conducted under the auspices o f the History Trust o f SouthAustralia f o r two years and two months ending December 1986. The Intervieweesare broadly representative o f the population o f South Austra l ia as i t was in thef i rst three decades of the twentieth century. Selection of Interviewees was guidedby a Sex and Occupation Sample calculated f r o m t h e 1921 Census and In te r -viewees were suggested, i n the main, by people who responded t o 'S.A. Speaks'publicity. Each in terv iew was preceded by an unrecorded prel iminary interviewduring which detai ls about the Interviewee's fam i l y h istory and l i f e story weresought to help develop a framework for the interview.

As s ta ted i n t h e Condit ions o f Use f o r Tape Recordings and Transcriptsadopted f o r the 'S.A. Speaks' project: 'The copyright in the item(s) [viz, the tapesand transcripts o f Interview 8606] and a l l the r ights which normally accompanycopyright including the r ight to grant or withhold access to them, conditionally orunconditionally, t o publish, reproduce o r broadcast them, belongs i n t h e f i r s tinstance t o t h e His tory Trus t o f South Austra l ia f o r t he purposes o f t he 'S.A.Speaks' project and a f te r the cessation o f tha t project t o the Libraries Board o fSouth Austral ia for the purposes of the Mortlock Library of South Australiana.'

ATB/13/129-6061 M r s A.M. 'Coral' STARKE i v'S.A. SPEAKS' 8 6 0 6

NOTES T O T H E TRANSCRIPT

Readers of this oral history transcript should bear in mind that i t is a recordof the spoken word. I t was the pol icy o f the Transcriptionist, Chris Gradolf, andthe Interviewer, as edi tor, t o produce a transcr ipt t ha t is, so f a r as possible, averbatim t ranscr ip t t ha t preserves the Interviewee's manner o f speaking and theinformal, conversational s ty le o f t h e in terv iew. Cer ta in conventions o f t rans-cription have been applied (i.e. the omission of meaningless noises, redundant falsestarts and a percentage of the Interviewee's crutch words). Also, each Intervieweewas given the opportunity t o read the transcr ipt o f the i r interv iew a f te r i t hadbeen proofread by the Interviewer. The Interviewee's suggested alterations havebeen incorporated in the tex t (see below). On the whole, however, the documentcan be regarded as a raw transcript.

Researchers using the original tape recording of this interview are cautionedto check th is t ranscr ipt f o r corrections, additions or deletions which have beenmade by the Interviewer or the Interviewee but which wi l l not occur on the tapes.Minor discrepancies o f gram mar and sentence structure made in the interest o freadability can be ignored but significant changes such as deletions of informationor correction of fac t should be, respectively, duplicated or acknowledged when thetape recorded version o f th is in terv iew i s used f o r broadcast o r publication oncassettes.

Abbreviations

The Interviewee, Mrs A.M. 'Coral' Starke, is referred to by the init ials CS inall editorial insertions in the transcript.

Punctuation

Square brackets ] indicate mater ial in the transcript that does not occur onthe original tape recording.

The Interviewee's i n i t i a l s a f t e r a wo rd , phrase o r sentence i n squarebrackets, i .e . [word o r phrase CS] indicates that the Interviewee made this par-t icular insert ion o r correct ion. A l l unini t ia l led parentheses were made b y t h eInterviewer.

An series of dots, i n d i c a t e s an untranscribable word or phrase.

Sentences tha t were l e f t unfinished i n the normal manner o f conversationare shown ending in three dashes, - -

Spelling

Wherever possible the spelling o f proper names and unusual terms has beenverified. Where uncertainty remains the word has been marked with a cross in theright hand margin of the Interview Log and Data Sheet which can be consulted inthe Interview File.

Typeface

The Interviewer's questions are shown in bold print.

ATB/13/129-606 M r s A.M. 'Coral' STARKE 1 .'S.A. SPEAKS' 8 6 0 6

'S.A. Speaks: A n Oral History of Life in South Australia Before 1930'Beth Robertson interviewing Mrs A.M. 'Coral' Starke i s i r s i g g i i i g i g

i n g g i i i i m u m g on 7 March 1986

TAPE A SIDE A

Could you start by telling me your full name?

My single name or my married name?

Start with your single name?

My single name was A m y Maud Burns - a real o ld Scottish Burns - and mymarried name now is Amy Maud Starke.

Were you known as Amy?

No. In the fami ly I 've always been called Coral, because when I was born mymother wanted me t o be called Coral ie, bu t as my fa ther had already twodaughters - t w o g i r ls older than myself - he was determined tha t one wasgoing to be called af ter Mum. So I got her name, Amy Maud, but I was nevercalled t h a t i n t h e f am i l y. The f a m i l y have always cal led m e Coral and Ianswer t o tha t , bu t my legal name o f course is Amy. And people I went toschool w i th and grew up wi th, very of ten they say, 'Oh, hello Amy, how areyou?' and I walk past them in the street and think, 'Oh, goodness me. I ' l l haveto go back and apologise,' but I forget that my name is Amy because I'm soused to the fami ly calling me Coral.

Can you tell me the date of your birth?

Yes, March t h e th i r teenth nineteen hundred and eight . I 've go t a bir thdaycoming up in a couple of weeks.

Where were you born?

I was born in Clunes in Victoria. It 's an old - dear l i t t l e old fashioned miningtown now. They don't produce the gold, and that, they did - used to - but myson has just recent ly been over there and took his two l i t t l e daughters, andthought, 'Oh, I ' l l take them back to Clunes to where Grandma was born'. Andhe said i t 's the dearest l i t t l e place, that has beautiful l i t t l e gardens and l i t t leold fashioned houses and there's water and trees and that everywhere, and hesaid i t 's the dearest l i t t l e place.

How long did you live there as a child?


Well, I wouldn't know, because I was taken away apparently when I was verysmall, because I have no memory of i t whatsoever. Apparently my father wastransferred somewhere else. I th ink he went t o a place cal led Rutherglenbecause t h e n e x t boy t o m e was born i n a place cal led Rutherglen andapparently t ha t was also a gold mining town because m y fa ther was a goldmining engineer, and apparently he fol lowed a l l the gold mines around - wassent there by di fferent f irms.

What was your father's name?

My father's name was Joseph Wil l iam Burns. And his people went way, wayback - round about the Ballarat t imes and Bendigo and al l the old gold miningtowns. He was born wi th gold in his blood, I think, and even to the day he diedhe was out prospecting - looking for gold. Always mixed up in gold mining. Hedid do several other things in the mining thing, and also engineering. He wassent to Jamestown as an engineer for the f lour m i l l there, and he also workedin Water fa l l Gully - that was outside o f Melbourne - on a f lour mi l l . He coulddo anything. He could take a car to pieces and put i t back together again. Andthen fo r qui te a long t ime he was an engineer on one of the old paddle boatsthat went up and down the r iver.

Do you know if he had a formal education?

Just the ordinary education, because in those days you didn't go beyond Grade7, and he had no university degree o r anything, but there wasn't a thing hedidn't know about engines. I think he had machine oi l in his blood - instead ofblood. My eldest brother was l ike that too - the one next to me in the family.He never played sport - he never played footbal l o r anything l i ke that . Healways had cot ton reels and dripping taps and making water mi l ls and - oh,taking o l d c locks t o pieces and do ing th ings l i k e t h a t . H e a lways wasinterested i n th ings t h a t t icked o r moved. H e never bothered much aboutsport or anything. But the other two boys, they are very sporty.

What sort of a man do you remember your father as?

My father? A very big - very big man - very ta l l , a giant o f a man, and verygentle. He never smacked one of us in his l i fe. They were married young andthey had the i r chi ldren young, and I th ink they grew up w i th us, because Ican't ever remember h im ever raising his voice t o us. Bu t we were alwaysmade to give Mother the greatest respect. I f he thought any of us were beinga bi t cheeky or anything to Mother, we got a smart smack - not from him, butfrom Mother. Bu t he was always a f r iend as we l l as a dad. He was real lymarvellous. We never went to bed without a bedtime lullaby or a rock in theold armchair.


I can remember once, I nearly shot him. My Uncle George, he was going tothe 1914 war and he come to spend some o f his leave w i th us and he'd beenout shooting ducks. We l ived in a place called Barooga [NSW] on the RiverMurray, and he came in and put his gun on the table. And me - I must've beenabout four year o ld a t tha t t ime - - -. M y fa ther was nursing my two nextbrothers - he was rocking them back and for th in a rocking chair - and just ashe rocked forward, I leaned up and pulled the t r igger and the gun went o f f .Had my father leaned backwards he would have been shot, but the bullet wentbetween the back of the chair and the wall. My gosh, I can remember scream-ing m y eyeballs o u t - I was so a f ra id o f t h a t te r r ib le noise. A n d I canremember my father - the one and only t ime I think I ever saw him very angry- te l l ing his brother o f f fo r allowing the gun to be on the table that childrencould reach i t . My father was a great shooter - he won many prizes in shoot-ing galleries and things l ike that - but he was always very careful. The gunswere never loaded and they were always p u t up o u t o f t he reach o f t hechildren. But I can remember him being very angry wi th his brother Georgeabout bringing that gun in.

You say you were living in Barooga at the time.

Yes.

Do you know what your father was doing at that stage?

Yes, he was the engineer, a t that t ime, fo r i r r igat ion engineering. He had apumping s ta t ion o n t h e bank o f t h e r i ve r - I guess i t was a Governmentposition - and he used t o pump t h e wa te r t h a t i r r igated a l l t he orchardsaround there. And, oh, the channels stretched fo r miles, and they would pullup planks and allow so much water through to irr igate the crops.

I can remember one Chinese garden there. We were allowed, fo r a penny,to c l imb the mulberry trees - and fo r a penny you could pick your own mul-berries and eat as many as you could. And they were wonderful, those Chinesemen - so gentle and kind, and marvellous w i th children. They would alwaysoffer us lunch when we went there. I t 'd be a bowl o f soup wi th a hard boiledegg f loat ing around in i t . But we weren't used to that and of course we neverused t o accept the i r food, but they were very gentle and very clean people.And they d id have t he most marvellous orchards around Barooga. Used t o

supply al l the distr ic t with fresh vegetables, and they really were fresh too.

Until about what age did you live in Barooga?


Oh, I would be - - I had started school - I was f ive - and we would leaveBarooga, I guess, when I was about seven, and Father was transferred t oJamestown, then, t o the f lour m i l l . We went f i r s t o f a l l though - before wewent t o Jamestown - we went to l ive in a town called Dandenong - that's asuburb o f Melbourne - and that was where my six year old brother got polio,and he died. And Father had been transferred, by then, on to Jamestown inSouth Austral ia, and Mother had just had a baby and she was coping wi th hersix week old baby and her l i t t l e boy who had just died. That was a very hardt ime for her because she was st i l l only a very young woman.

Was this brother older or younger than you?

He was next t o me in the fami ly. He was six year old when he died. He wasonly i l l a week and they didn't know then very much about polio. And i t wasthe f i rs t t ime Mother had ever come in contact with a lady doctor, and we didhave an orchard, and she [ the doctor] said tha t my brother had been eatinggreen f r u i t and he was suffering f rom stomach ache. But instead o f that hewas paralysed and o f course he was on his death bed, and he only l ived aweek. He was a t Sunday School one Sunday and he was buried the fol lowingSaturday, which was very hard f o r my mother. She had to face tha t on herown wi th a six week old baby.

Had your father already come to South Australia?

My fa the r had come t o South Austra l ia . So, as soon as t h a t happened o fcourse, he got a house and got the fami ly underway and we came to SouthAustralia. We've lived in South Austral ia ever since.

Can you tell me a little bit about your mother. What was her name?

Her name was Amy Maud Rowe and her father was an old Cornish miner andhe was working on the mines then a t Maryborough. That's not very far f romMelbourne, and they used to l ive in a place called Bi l ly Goat H i l l and Motherused t o go t o school there. Her mother died when she was two and she wasbrought up by an old housekeeper.

She said her ear l iest memories were o f longing f o r a dol l . Being l e f t al i t t le g i r l w i t h o u t a mo the r, and a n e lder l y m a n n o t understanding t h elongings o f a small chi ld fo r a dol l - she'd get a l l sorts o f things for Christ-mas, bu t never a dol l . And she never ever got t ha t dol l unt i l she was sixtyfive. O f course she had us three gir ls and we had just about everything wewanted - we weren't r ich, but we had plenty of everything - and when Motherbecame sixty f ive I thought to myself, 'What can I give her for a change?' And


I thought, 'Well, i t seems a b i t si l ly, but I'm going to give her a doll - a doll ofher own, a doll that she's never ever had'. And she cried. I had - -

At t h a t t ime , I th ink, Queen Elizabeth was t o be crowned, and I had afriend who was very clever wi th her fingers and she dressed this doll l ike theQueen, w i t h a long t ra in and a crown and everything, and I gave i t t o mymother f o r her s ix ty f i f t h b i r thday. She just sat down and cried. She said,there'd been dolls in her l i f e through us, but never one tha t she could reallycall her own. And I don't know what became o f the doll. I never ever saw i tafter Mother died, so what became of that doll I don't know. But I rememberher tears of joy at getting her own doll at last af ter sixty f ive years.

Did your mother work before she married?

No. She was a tailoress, bu t o f course when she married my father tha t a l lwent by the board, because you didn't - people didn't believe in women work-ing in those days, not a f te r they were married. She was a tailoress in Mary-borough and Father was a member o f a very large fami ly and his mother -like, t ha t would be Grandmother Burns, t o me - had one o f those, what shecalled grog shanty. She used to fol low the miners around and everytime theymade a str ike, she would open up this sort o f l i t t l e hotel thing, in a tent - aplank on a couple of barrels. And they would pay her in gold nuggets you see.

And I believe she was very strong, and a very strong-willed woman. I don'tever remember hearing very much about my grandfather, and where he cameinto i t or how he came to Austral ia, and that , I don't know. But my father'smother came from Ireland and they ran this grog shanty, as they used to cal li t .

This was your father's mother or grandmother?

My father's mother.

So your grandmother.

That'd be my grandmother. Bu t where her - the i r roots came f rom - that Idon't know. But my mother's father, he came from Cornwall, and the mothercame f rom Scotland, and her name was Isabella Mary Stewart. And there'sbeen a Stewart in every generation of our fami ly since then.

Did you ever know any of your grandparents?

No, they were a l l dead long before I was born, and by that t ime, o f course,Father had come to South Austral ia, and the connection wi th his fami ly, whowere a l l New South Wales, Vic tor ia , were a l l broken. A n d h is very largefamily was scattered and they never ever kept in touch.


Did you have any uncles or aunts who you kept in touch with?

There was only one on my father's side, and his name was George - the onethat I used his gun. But he went to the war - 1914 war. We did hear from himseveral t imes and he used to send Mother those French cards with the beauti-ful embroidery, and 'Souvenir of France' and that on them, and they were sentto her. I th ink she s t i l l had some when she died, bu t goodness knows whatbecame of them too. But that was the only one on my father's side that I everknew, that was Uncle George. But I know that he did have a lot of sisters andbrothers.

But my mother's brothers, they were very young and they went to WesternAustralia f rom Victor ia, where they were born, and they went gold mining inWestern Austra l ia , and they founded a l i t t l e town called Davyhurst. I s t i l lthink - i t ' s s t i l l there - but I th ink i t ' s a ghost town now. But there was atragedy there tha t - - -. I t was very sad. My uncle - Uncle Wil l , we used tocall him - he was married to a very nice lady. I never met her but my motherdid and she said t ha t Aunt ie L izz ie - they used t o ca l l her - she had ninechildren but she lost al l of them in - - -. You know, before they could be born.Or else they were just born and they died quickly. Well this t ime she managedto keep two - two boys - and they went to Davyhurst to live, and they openedup t h e mines there. They were robbed - because there were some c la imjumpers jumped in - and in those days they didn't understand that you had toput your miner's r ight on a post and mark i t out. And nobody, but nobody wassupposed to do anything about i t - that was yours. But, o f course, the claimjumpers jumped in, took your claim form o f f the peg and put their's on, yousee, and you had no r ight to say that that land was yours. So they were robbedin that way a couple of times.

But the two l i t t l e boys - one was four and the other six, one was Harry andthe other was Robert - - -. And they were playing wi th an older boy and theygot in to the dugout on the hillside, where they used to keep al l the dynamiteand everything for the explosives. The elder boy went in there and he said toRobert, 'Go and get some matches. I t 's dark i n here'. So l i t t l e Robert runsdown t o m y Aun t ie L izz ie and said he wanted some matches and she waspregnant, just about ready to have another l i t t l e child - and they were longingfor a g i r l , t o o - and, w i thout thinking, she thought, 'Oh wel l , perhaps hisfather wan ts t o l i g h t a p ipe o r something,' and she gave t h e ch i l d t h ematches. So he went up into the dugout on the hillside and they're sure now -afterwards - they were sure tha t the older boy had struck the matches. Butbefore he had st ruck them, t h e elder boy was cal led home by his mother,

ATB/I3/129-606 M r s A.M. 'Coral' STARKE 7 .'S.A. SPEAKS' 8 6 0 6

leaving Harry and Robert in the dugout - and they had no right to be there ofcourse. But she called him home and by doing so she saved his l i fe , becauseRobert l i t the match and the whole hillside went up.

And the whole town turned out, o f course, because i t just about destroyedthe place, and they picked Robert up, and he was blind. And he was saying, 'Ican hear you, Daddy, but I can't see you,' and the other l i t t l e boy was dead.Of course, the uncle, wi thout thinking, wi th the dead boy in his arms, walkedinto the kitchen and f lew a t my Aunt ie Liz, and said, 'How dare you give himthose matches' - you know. I don't know how they found that the kid had thematches or anything. But, o f course, i t threw her into a terr ib le state and inher s tate she was in , i t s l ight ly affected her mind. And, o f course the twoboys were buried. They're st i l l buried at Davyhurst - there's a big gravestonethere. But she was slightly effected and the baby was born dead and i t was agirl. [Uncle] was sorry, as soon as he had said that to her, about the matches -she went into a sort of a screaming f i t - and for years afterwards - - -. Peoplegot used t o her. She was walking around cal l ing f o r the two l i t t l e boys t ocome home. And one night she never came home a t a l l , and they found thatshe'd fallen down an old mine shaft, and she was dead.

And a f ter that he - he just gave mining away. He just couldn't take i t anymore. He went to Perth, a t one stage, and he bought himself a new car andthe young fe l low that was demonstrating the car said, 'Well, I ' l l drive i t backto Kalgoorl ie fo r you,' and of course he didn't know that much about i t either.So he was driving the car back to Kalgoorlie fo r my uncle. He went down adried waterway and the wheel slipped, and my uncle's head went through thewindow and the car turned over and k i l led h im. So they were a very t ragicfamily. That was a very sad episode at that t ime in my l i fe . I can rememberthat. I'd be - I think I was married when that happened.

But I o f t e n thought t o mysel f , wha t a t rag ic fam i l y. Because the t w oeldest boys that had managed to survive in the fami ly, one of them was kil ledin a blackout in London, and we don't know what became of the other one. Hejust sort o f vanished. And yet, I know, by lots of things that people have said,that h e had a beaut i fu l singing voice. H e could charm t h e bi rds o f f t h eboughs, as they said. Bu t he ended up - that he'd had no mother, he had nofather, he had no t ies at al l . He was just - thrown away on the scrap heap youcould say.

So both sides of your family were involved in mining.

Oh yes, both sides.


And all over Australia.

Al l over Austral ia - scattered al l over Austral ia. Guess there's some st i l l are.I doubt i f a l l my father's people would have died out by now, but we've losttouch over the years.

Can you tell me a little bit more about your mother. How do you remember her?

My mother was a very bright, v iv id l i t t l e bird. She was about my - just l ikeme, short and stumpy - but the family adored her. And i f there was a party oranything on, Mother was there, r ight in the middle o f i t , because everybodyseemed to gravitate around her. She was always singing or recit ing. She had amarvellous memory. She could reci te poetry - and I s t i l l can, too - from wayback tha t she learnt in school. And very capable, very able to cope wi th a l lsorts o f things tha t r ise up i n a fami ly o f large children - you know, largegroup of them - and she'd always cope.

My most v i v i d memory is , when we were a l l ready go t o a circus or apicture show or anywhere - we never missed anything, Burnses were alwaysthere - my mother would comb my father's hair, s i t t ing on his knee - he hadbeautiful cur ly hair - and he would put her shoes on. The whole fami ly wouldbe wait ing to go and there these two were, in the kitchen or wherever, on onechair - she was on his knee and he was doing her shoes up and she was comb-ing his hair. Because he never would comb his hair - he had the most beautifulhair - and Mother would comb that , and he'd fasten her shoes whi le she wassitt ing on his knee.

And that was the sort of home we were brought up in - surrounded by love.There was no quarrels or no arguments. We never had very much. Well, oneman, rearing a family of nine on one man's pay in those days, didn't leave verymuch to be wasted. But Mother made jam and pickles and sauces and her ownbread, and she was so t iny, you know. And as the boys grew up and got bigger,she'd growl a t them fo r something - and two of my brothers are very large -and they'd swoop on her and hold her up in the air, and say, 'You st i l l growlingat me?' Yes, ' and she's kicking and yelling and going on. 'Well, you can stay upthere. Go on, apologise t o me.' I won't, ' you know. 'You can stay - - -,' andhe'd hold her up there unt i l he got t i red o f holding her, and he'd pass her overto the other brother. They'd say, 'She st i l l growl ing?"Yes."Wel l , leave her upthere.' And she'd finish up on the top shelf of the old fashioned dresser. They'dleave her there unt i l she apologised to them. I t was so funny to see l i t t le t inyMother and these great big brothers. Two of my brothers were small l ike her,and the other two were big l ike my father. Well, I had six brothers really.


Can you tell me about your brothers and sisters? You say you were one of nine.

Yes. Wel l , there was a boy older than a l l o f us - he was the f i r s t boy. Hisname was Royston James. And he was the wanderer o f the fami ly. He'd takeoff a t the drop o f a hat and you wouldn't hear f rom him - you wouldn't knowwhere he was unt i l you got a le t te r f rom Spain o r somewhere saying that'swhere he was.

How much older than you was he?

Oh wel l , there was two sisters in between mysel f and him. Oh, I just can'twork i t out now, a t the moment. The two girls - there was two years betweenmy s is ter C la r i ce and Wini f red, who was nex t , and there was t w o yearsbetween myself and Winifred. And then there was two years between myselfand the next boy. But there was only one year between the next two brothersand then there was another brother - his name was Cl i f ford - he was taken asa prisoner o f war in Singapore, and he was on that dreadful death march andwe never saw him a f te r he le f t . He went to the war when he was twenty one.And I've got a younger brother - George - he was a change of l i fe baby. He's agrandfather now. H e l ives down a t Tintanara and he runs his own shearingteam.

How old were you when he was born?

Oh, I was about fourteen when he was born, because I was going out to workat that t ime, when he was born.

Did you know about childbirth when you were growing up?

No, that sort o f thing was never mentioned. You never talked about that sortof th ing. When certa in things happened to you, wel l Mother would say, wel lthat would happen every month, but never explain why. I never ever knew. I twasn't t i l l just before I was married, and I worked in hotels and things and Ishould have known, but I didn't, and I didn't know anything a t a l l . I f I hadn'thad a good, kind, understanding husband, he could have ruined me for l i fe. Buthe was very understanding. I knew nothing. Whatever I knew I learnt from myhusband. But, no, nothing l ike - that sort of thing was never talked about, andyou never heard d i r t y stor ies o r - - -. We we re brought up i n a sor t o finnocent atmosphere - really too innocent.

So what happened when your mother was going to have another baby? Were youtold about it?

No, we just saw that she was gett ing bigger and we sort of instinctively knewshe was going to have a baby, but i t never crossed our minds to ask why, orhow, i t just happened.

ATB/13/129-606 M r s A.M. 'Coral' STARKE 1 0 .'S.A. SPEAKS' 8 6 0 6

Did she have them at home?

Yes, a l l her children were born at home, with an old midwife. I can rememberthe o ld midwi fe a t Barooga coming out, and she l iked her l i t t l e t ipple, youknow. We'd be al l sent o f f on a picnic or somewhere for the day, and when wecame home the baby would be there, but i t would never cross our minds to askwhy, and I think that might've been the only rest my mother got, because youwas kept in bed for ten days during those periods. Mum enjoyed that, I think.But Dad used t o cook f o r us and look a f t e r us. I can remember h im oncemaking a rabbit stew in a kerosene bucket, over a stove. I t tasted jo l ly good,too, as I recall. Yes, he was a good father.

From what people have been telling me, the kerosene tins were put to all sorts ofuses.

Oh, we'd never survive without the old kerosene t in. They were babies' baths,they were baking dishes. Cu t one i n hal f slanty-wise and bent l ike that andyou had your wash up dish there and then the next half was the part you putyour dishes in . And they were bakers' ovens and they were - - -. You couldcook s tew i n them, you could do anything. In f ac t i n Whyalla when Fatherbuilt our house down there - - -. H e was a [BHP] Company's man bu t youdidn't get a house - you bui l t your own house. We had bag walls and the kero-sene t in - you cut the top and the bottom out and put one on top of the otherand t h a t was t h e chimney. We had a f i replace, and we were very styl ishbecause most o f the women had to cook outside. But Father made Mother astove inside and bu i l t around i t w i t h kerosene t ins - kerosene t i n chimney.And you had your bag walls. You spl i t the bags open and then you'd lay themside by side and st i tch them w i th a bag needle, and put them up and whi te-wash them. And whitewash'd pul l them t igh t . But s t i l l , i t wasn't soundproof.You could st i l l stand outside and hear what everybody said.

And we came home from school one day in Whyalla - i t was a fa i r way towalk - and Mother was cooking. I t was raining, and Mother was cooking dinnerfor us over the stove and with the umbrella up, and i t was pouring through theroof. A f t e r that my dad got what they called the belt - big ironstone belt o f fthe j e t t y, t h a t carr ied the ironstone out and poured i t in to the ships. Veryheavy rubber - leather - oh, terr ib ly heavy. And he got some of that and justput i t up over the two hip roofs. We had sort of a kitchen cum everything, andthe next room was Mother's bedroom and Dad's and they both had hip roofs.

Hip?


Hip - point l ike tha t - two o f them. And they were covered w i th this heavyrubber o f f the je t ty. And i t was so jo l ly heavy in later years the house beganto lean t o one side. But a l l our bedrooms were tents, and they were up onwooden floors, and over the years as the tents were flapping up and down, sothe knobs o f the beds wore holes through them. And you could stand outsideand watch your sister and brothers gett ing undressed, you know, by the hurri-cane lamp - your shadows on the wall.

END OF TAPE 1 SIDE A: TA P E 1 SIDE B

We were talking about using kerosene tins. What would you use the kerosene itselffor?

Oh wel l , you didn't have e lectr ic l ights. You had lamps, and you would takegreat pride in washing your lamp glasses and polishing them w i th a piece o fnewspaper. A n d very o f ten people d id have kerosene stoves on which theycould cook. Bu t most ly i t was used f o r l ight ing, and you would buy i t i n arather large t in with a l i t t le pump to pump i t out.

But Whyalla in those days, you didn't have any water. You had to buy yourwater. They had a big steel tank up on a horse dray, drawn by a great bigClydesdale horse, and Mother would pay f i f t y cents - or f ive shillings i t was inthose days - for a hundred gallons of water. And, my word, you would use thatwater as i f i t was precious gold, because i t was so hard to come by. I t wasbrought over b y barges - t he water was brought over i n barges f rom Por tPine, and pumped up in to what they called the Government tanks. And theGovernment tanks are s t i l l there to this day - s t i l l there wi th water in them.But you had t o buy the water, and then they would pump i t up into the drayand then the old fe l low tha t drove the car t - his name was Charl ie Patten,and he had one eye - he would drive the car t down to your home and pull upalongside o f your tank, and then he would put the hose down into your tankand then he'd suck, and make a suction through the pipe, and drop i t into yourtank and the water would run from the dray down into your tank.

And when you th ink of how precious our water was, you'd make jol ly surethat al l the children were bathed in the one water. You couldn't have a gardenor anything, because water was too precious. I t s t i l l is, but now of course it'sa di fference - they've go t t he pipel ine through. But there was many yearsbefore that came through.

Yes. I'd like to go back and talk about some of the other places that you lived in.When we were talking the other day, you also mentioned that the family lived inMoonta for a time. Was that after you were at Jamestown?


Yes, that's r ight. Yes, af ter we'd been to Jamestown.

Let's talk about Jamestown. How old were you when you came to South Australia?

Oh, I'd be about nine year old then, when we came to South Australia, becausemy l i t t l e b ro ther had d ied i n Dandenong and t h e f a m i l y came t o SouthAustralia direct from there.

Do you remember the move?

Yes. I can remember them shift ing all the - - I n fact my job was to pack allthe cups and plates in the newspapers and put them in boxes. By that t imewe'd moved so o f ten w i t h Father's being transferred f r om one job t o theother, that the fami ly sort of had their own jobs to do, and mine was to do allthe crockery. Rol l i t up in old newspapers, pack i t in big old fashioned laundrytubs. And then there was one great big box that was specially kept for tea andsugar and things l ike that, so that Mother would know which to go to when wemoved in to a new house - exact ly where the food was. And everything wasmarked and labelled. Oh, they had i t down to a fine ar t , I can te l l you. In factthe fow ls used t o go ou t and lay and pu t t he i r f e e t up ready t o be t ied,because we never went wi thout our dog or a cat or anything l ike that . Andchildren's t o y s and shoes, and a l l t h a t s o r t o f th ing, were a l l packed i nseparate - these special boxes that Mother had.

Did you move large pieces of furniture - chairs and beds and the like?

Yes. Yes, a l l that . And in those days, when they were moving you, the menused to do that themselves and pack i t on to a trol ley for you. And the big oldfashioned dresser - you could take the top o f f o f tha t , and then you couldscrew i t back again. The bed used to come to pieces, and you knew which bedbelonged to which spring mattress, and where the mattresses were and wherethe sheets and the blankets were packed. They were a l l in the i r own specialboxes.

How did you make the move from Dandenong to Jamestown?

Well we went by train that t ime, and the furniture was put on board the goodsvan on the train, and Father had a big van wait ing - a trol ley - waiting at theother end, a horse-drawn t ro l l ey. A n d w e moved s t ra ight t o a house a tMoonta. I t was half way between Moonta and Moonta Bay.

Which town did you come to first when you came to South Australia?

We went to Moonta f i rst , and from there Father went to Jamestown. [actuallyvica versa]


What sort of work was your father doing in Moonta?

He was doing - a t the f lour m i l l . He was doing the machinery a t the f lourmill.

Also doing that at Jamestown?

Yes, doing the same thing, yes.

Where did you live in Moonta?

We lived half way - what we used to cal l the Moonta Bay Road. I t was on thetop of a big hi l l , this house, and i t was half way between Moonta and MoontaBay. And we used t o run down t o the bottom o f our paddock and get on ahorse t ram, and you could ride down to Moonta Bay for a penny, behind thesedear o l d horses. We had a very carefree, very happy l i f e . We were neverhem med in by too many restrictions. We were trusted, wherever we went, tobehave ourselves.

But the very f i rs t t ime I ever saw the sea was at Mordialloc - i t was whenwe l ived in Dandenong. We went fo r a picnic to place called Mordialloc andthat was where, as country children, we f i rs t saw the sea. But of course whenwe went t o Moonta Bay we used to have a marvellous t ime a t Moonta Bay,because the sea was so close and by tha t t ime we'd got used to i t . And wethought - - I couldn't make out, as a t iny child, why somebody wanted thatbig blue tub. You know, Mother used to have the blue tub to rinse the whitesin, and i t struck me as being strange that this mighty great big blue tub - whowas doing so much washing - because I was so small, and wondering where al lthe blue came f rom. And I can remember asking Mother and she said, 'Oh,God has t o keep the clouds clean,' and tha t was her answer t o me, wi thoutreally explaining why.

What sort of a house did you live in in Moonta?

It was a big wood and i ron house - about seven rooms, I think, i t had. Andthere were sheds and that, to our delight. I think i t must've been an old farmat one t ime. But i t s t i l l had a shed wi th hay and that sort o f thing in i t , andmice.

Then we had a mice plague. We used to catch the mice and harness themup to pull matchboxes of sand and make them pul l the sand behind them wi ththese l i t t l e matchboxes. But then we'd wonder why we'd break out i n r ing-worms, because we were get t ing r ingworm o f f the mice. But i t was a verydreadful mice plague, I can remember that. Because i f you had a stained tablecloth or something - - -. My old uncle was living wi th us at that t ime, because


he'd come over f rom Western Austral ia on a holiday, and he made Mother abig wooden t ray, sort o f thing, tha t she could hang f rom the roof. And tha twas the only way she could keep the mice f rom chewing the clothes whenthey were soiled. She used to throw them up there, and then on washing day,well we'd have to get them down and wash them. But, the mice were real lydreadful. I t was an old saying a t tha t t ime, i f you had a mice plague, you'dalso have a war wi th in twelve months. So, whether it 's t rue or not, or one ofthose old Granny's tales, maybe.

Did your father have his own horse and buggy?

No, no t a t t h a t t ime , no. No, w e used t o run around and keep each otherhappy and I th ink our - - W e never had bikes o r anything l i ke tha t . Wewalked wherever we went. And I think even to this day, the whole family havevery good fee t . None o f us suffer w i th corns and that , because we al l woreboys' boots. I th ink there were about six and eleven a pair in those days, andyour l i t t l e t i n snips around the end because you could play hopscotch and gothrough your boots in no t ime. We were all brought up to wear boots and evento this day none of us have corns or bad feet.

With such a large family, did you have hand-me-down clothes and shoes?

Oh yes, oh my word yes. And you didn't look down your nose at anybody whowore hand-me-downs because t h a t was t h e i n thing. Nobody had anythingbetter than you did. I f your dress was le t down and i t was a b i t faded aroundthe bottom, wel l Mother would buy perhaps a packet of dye and dye i t blue, orwhatever colour, so t ha t you didn' t see whether t he hemline had been l e tdown.

No, we were quite content, because we understood i t wi thout being told,that these things are the norm. You wore those things because they were al lyou had. We did have very good clothes, of course, to go out in, but you neverplayed around in them, and you'd change your frock as soon as you came homefrom school. You didn't s i t around in your best dress. And Sundays, of course,there was Sunday School two o r three t imes a day, and Church and that a tnight. You'd never dream of doing things on Sunday that they do now. Becausei f you sewed on a Sunday, when you died you had to pick all those stitches outwith your nose, was the great saying. And you wouldn't dare do anything l ikethat, and you'd read your Sunday School book and be really good on Sundays,because you wouldn't dare do anything tha t they dream o f doing now - goingskiing, al l that sort of thing.


No, you went to School two or three times a day and Church morning andnight, and that was i t . Even, sometimes, we had to drive many miles to School- to Church and that sometimes.

What sort of mischief did you get up to as children?

Oh, we l l , I suppose t h e ordinary things t ha t k ids d id - blonding along t hefences and fal l ing into creeks.

What along fences?

What they cal l blonding. Blondin - the fel low that used to walk the tightrope.Well, you walk along the top of the fence and balance on the top of a fence,and that was our favourite pastime. Because there was a lot of those slip rai land post fences and you'd walk along these fences and - blonders, we used tocall them - blond along the fences.

And another thing, the doctors in those days used to have what they called- bleed the i r patients - and they would want leeches. So we would walk intothe creeks, and the moment you walked in there was leeches - they'd swarmon you, and suck your blood through you skin. And we'd pull them o f f and putthem i n a big jar and give them t o our local doctor. We never ever got paidfor them. I th ink they do now - i f they needed any now they would. But theywere horr ible things. They'd be about tha t long and a l l s l imy and - - -. Butwe'd just pull them o f f , and put them in a big t in of water or something - givethem to the local doctor.

I can remember seeing my f i rs t motorcar, and that belonged to the doctor.

Where was that?

That was at Barooga. He was going past one night in a hurry and was making adreadful noise of course, and to us i t was something really magical to see thismarvellous machine. I don't suppose he was travell ing al l that fast, but to usi t seemed to be going a great pace. And my brother - my eldest brother, whowas a b i t o f a scoundrel - he sang out, 'Doctor, doctor, quick, quick'. And ofcourse, natura l ly, t he doctor pulled up w i th a great clashing o f brakes andnoises, and he said, 'What's wrong, what's wrong? Do you need help?' And myeldest b ro ther said, 'No , I j us t wanted t o see i f your wheels were goingaround,' and the doctor said, 'Humph!' He was very angry. Of course I supposethe poor man was in a hurry to go somewhere. But, that was the sort of thingwe used to get up to.

You'd make yourself st i l ts out of six pound jam tins. You used to buy yourjam i n s ix pound t ins. Plum and applie or melon and lemon jam - in these


great big tins. You'd poke two holes through the bottom and thread great longstrings through them, and then get on them and pull the strings t ight and walkon st i l ts, as we used t o cal l i t . But they were simple things that we had. Wenever had expensive toys. We had - at Christmas t ime we used to have a verygood t ime. We always had a china doll or something l ike that - cup and ball -and simple things to play with, that you appreciate. And you'd keep them andmy sister was sixteen, and she st i l l had al l her dolls. You cherished what toysand that you got, because they were very few and very far between.

How many years did the family stay in Moonta before going to Jamestown?

We were there for about seven years I suppose [actually a much shorter t ime],and then they went on to Jamestown. Then Father was transferred by his f i rm- I can't think o f the name of the f i rm he worked for - but he was transferredthen t o Por t P ine t o work on the big cranes on the Por t P ine wharf . Andfrom there, then, Whyalla began t o blossom and - i t was Hum mock H i l l i nthose days - and he was sent over there.

So how old were you by the time you went to Whyalla?

I'd be getting on for eleven.

You hadn't finished school?

Oh no, I was st i l l going to school, and began to, you know, think about higherclasses and things l ike that. And we had quite a long way to walk to school inWhyalla, because when you bu i l t your house you bu i l t your house on - any-where, o r wherever you could f ind a place to put up four walls you put themup. And now, o f course, i f the Company wants anybody now, you get a beauti-ful home - i t 's a l l airconditioned and everything's laid on fo r you, but not inthose days. This is back in 1916 my father f i rs t went there.

Right, and you came about a year later did you?

No, we a l l came together, and of course Dad had the house up by then and thetents up on the blocks. And i f anybody wanted to come and board wi th you,which they did, they'd bring their own tent and put their own tent up. So in away there was the two great rooms w i th the hip roofs, and Mother and mytwo elder sisters'd do the kitchen, and the men - - -. I t was a man's town - i tst i l l is - and they would come and board and sleep in their own tents and thissort of thing. So we were l ike a l i t t le settlement of our own.

What sort of people would come and board with you?


Oh, Mum was very part icular about that, because there was us three girls yousee, and we were growing up. But they were a l l decent young men. A lo t o fthem were apprenticed to the Company, and a lot of them were already work-ing. Nobody entered our home or came near us unless they had my father'ssay-so, or Mum's say-so. But everybody mucked in and everybody would - -Not having enough dishes, or anything, you wash Bill 's plate or something, andthen pu t Jack's tea on i t , or something l ike that . But everybody sort o f gotalong very wel l and we made marvellous friends there. But as the town beganto grow, so the more humpies, as we used to ca l l them, went up around theplace. And, oh, I could te l l several funny stories about that . Especially, youknow, the sad parts.

My sister lost her eighteen month old baby there after she was married forabout f ou r years. The houses were beginning t o be bu i l t up on the hil lside.Well, the f ron t o f the house was on the hi l l , but the back door, you'd have agreat big f l igh t o f heavy steps. And i t was real rough and ready and primit ive.I'm start ing to get a bit th irsty. [break in recording]

I'll just mention what we've been talking about. You're pretty clear that i t was1916 when you got to Whyalla.

Yes.

So, the family first came to Jamestown, and then to Moonta, and i t was probablyonly a matter of two or three years there.

Yes. Then up to Port Pine, and then from there he went to - Father went toWhyalla. I t was Hum mock H i l l i n those days. And, oh, ve ry pr imi t ive. M ymother never l iked Whyalla. I t was always too hard. There was no comforts.There was no such thing as ice chests or - refr igerators hadn't been thoughtof. How she managed a l l those years w i th us kids I ' l l never know. I t must'vebeen very hard on a woman.

Did she ever corn ment or complain about the moving about?

No, never. Wherever Father went she was content to go. Of course, naturally,you'd say, 'I hate this place,' or something l ike that, but wherever Father was,there she was. Because, she said, her husband's duty is his job and i t 's hiswife's duty to go wi th him and take the children. And we got so used to goingand being where they were, because we were a very close fami ly. Because welooked a f t e r each o ther, w e kep t each o ther happy, and - we'd natural lysquabble l ike any fami ly would - but i f any outsider come and dare to say yourbrother's nasty o r something l i ke that , then the fu r would f l y. Yo u wouldn'thave anybody say anything about your s is ter, even i f you'd jus t f e l t l i ketearing her hair out. You just wouldn't allow anybody else to say anything.


What do you remember of the time you spent in Jamestown?

Well, Jamestown, we went to the Catholic School in Jamestown. I t was a veryhappy t ime because we chummed up wi th a fami ly called Couzner - and mysister later married a Couzner - and they were also a very large family. But i twas a very pret ty place and you could go for long walks and have picnics andthe countryside was so pret ty. We real ly l iked i t in Jamestown. I t was a verylovely l i t t l e place, and you were drawn into everything. There were partiesand concerts - school concerts - things l ike that. There was always somethinggoing, and we really liked i t there.

But Moonta was much more religious. They seemed to go for their churcha great deal, whereas we were more happy-go-lucky. But we did attend ourchurch. Not, you know, that you real ly had to because i t was done thing. Youwent because you were used t o going t o church. But they seemed t o be adifferent type of people - more dour, more - not so free, outgoing as we were.But w e were ra ther happy there too, especially when we go t down t o thebeach. And they used to have the festivals and that that they have now. Andto see the lovely l i t t le old cottages and that there.

Mother chummed up w i th quite a lo t o f the ladies and they used to havetheir l i t t l e afternoon teas, and you would go w i th your hat and your glovesand you wouldn't dream l ike going out l ike you do now, in a pair of sandals orsomething l ike that . You always took your umbrella and your gloves, and youwent a l ong a n d you 'd s i t a l l t h e a f ternoon i n y o u r h a t a n d exchangepleasantries w i th your neighbours and have a cup o f tea. Mother used to dothat. And we attended the Moonta school, which is a very lovely school.

But Moonta has changed. I was very disappointed. We went back fo r thepensioners' meet ing here no t so long ago - they meet every year. But thebeautiful fountains and that that I remember in the Moonta parks, they've allgone. To me there just wasn't anything for me to remember. And I did ask oneelderly gentleman, whom I thought may have lived there for a long t ime, and Isaid, 'What has happened to that beautiful fountain in the park? The beautifulstatues?' and he said, 'Oh, they're a l l gone. They went w i th progress,' and Isaid, 'Wel l , I t h ink t hey can keep progress,' because i t rea l ly was a mostbeautiful park. But now it 's just a l i t t le square - just isn't anything lef t .

Did the family go to Port Pink with your father before you went to Whyalla?

Yes. Yes, because by that t ime the gir ls had grown up, and my eldest sisterwas married. She married in Whyalla, before she l e f t there, and then Fathergot the job in Port P ine and he got the son-in-law a job in Port Pine too. So


he fol lowed us to Port P ine and he is buried there now, and they're real oldPort Pi r ie- i tes now. And my sister's s t i l l there. She's eighty four and unfor-tunately she's gone blind.

You were saying that after you left Moonta, your father went to Port Pine for alittle while before you went to Whyalla?

Yes, that 's r ight . He was back in Port P ine twice - he was sent there twice.But the second t ime he went to Whyalla, he real ly sett led down there then,because he was getting up in years and they were gett ing a b i t t i red of beingshifted around. And he was thinking a t that t ime o f ret i r ing. So they had abeautiful home in Whyalla in the finish, and then he got a longing to go backto Por t P i ne and that 's where - - -. And they went over t o Kalgoorlie, andthey were in Kalgoorlie for many years, because that's the sort of country heliked. Before he sett led down in Port P ine and f inal ly died there, they had acouple o f t r ips back to Kalgoorlie, and he had been working in the mines overthere fo r quite a long t ime, because i t was in his blood. He just couldn't breakaway from the gold mining instinct that was in him.

We've got an idea of the many moves that you made during your childhood, and Ithink it's understandable that sometimes you get a bit mixed up about the orderthat you went to places in. I'd like to talk a little bit more about your childhood,and perhaps concentrate on a couple of things. First of all, a little bit more aboutyour school days. You say you first started when you were still in Victoria andfinished up in Whyalla. You must have gone to quite a number of schools.

Certainly d id. The f i r s t school I can remember was in Barooga. I was onlythinking about i t the other night - perhaps I was thinking of this [ interview] -but i t was a dear l i t t l e old fashioned - - -. You see them in the pictures andyou don't th ink they're really true. But they're a dear l i t t le building on a smallhil l and surrounded by a great big paddock fu l l o f dandelions, and they wereall out in bloom when I f i rs t started school. And the school, of course, had i tsusual pepper trees tha t you'd s i t under t o have your lunch, and the swing onthe pepper tree. This was my very f i rs t school, at Barooga.

And m y sister had t o dr ive f rom the fa rm where the stat ion was - thepumping stat ion was - dr ive in to school. There was my sister Winifred, m ybrother Roy and Clar ice - she handled the horses a l l the t ime - and myself.And I can remember this dear l i t t l e school house and this great big paddockful l o f dandelions. And there was the teacher o f the school's home on anotherl i t t le hi l l top, and he kept bees, and I can remember a l l these honey-bees onthese dandelions, and when he was robbing the hives. He used t o come outwith his veil on and the smoke pot and that, and take this honey.


But i t was a dear l i t t l e old school and i t was the centre of everything. I twas a clubhouse, i t was a meeting place - - -. I t was one o f those placeswhere t h e school house was t h e cent re o f everything - dances and cardmeetings, and whatever was on was held at the school house. And that was myvery f i rs t school.

You've mentioned a couple of times that you sometimes went to Catholic schools.

Yes, we were Catholics, and we went t o a Cathol ic school in Jamestown -that was a St Josephs as wel l - and then we went to - - I n Dandenong, whenmy brother died, we were attending the Convent school there. But when mybrother died so quickly wi th the polio, Mother took us away from the Church.Took us away f rom the Catholic school, because she'd just had the baby, as Isaid, she'd had this sudden death in the fami ly and my father wasn't there toshare i t w i t h her because he was in South Austral ia a t tha t t ime, and I canremember this day quite well.

I was playing on the f loor w i t h a dol l - I can remember tha t - and I canremember t h e pr ies t coming i n and m y mother being v e r y angry. I canremember h e r saying, 'God d idn ' t in tend ch i ldren t o b e t rea ted i n t h a tmanner'. I t was many years before I found o u t w h a t i t was about, b u tapparently, my brother had died very quickly and Mother had called the priestin t o conduct the funeral, and he had said tha t because my brother had notbeen t o confession on the Fr iday on which he died, he refused to bury him.And Mother said, 'God didn't intended children to be treated in that way,' orsomething simi lar. I t 's just in the back o f my mind tha t she was very angry.And I remember her saying, 'From now on, my children w i l l no longer attendthe Catho l ic school,' and w e didn' t . We never wen t back t o the Cathol icschool - not in any place a t a l l that we went to . She was so deeply hurt. Tothink t h a t because a smal l boy - - -. He had not been, he took i l l on theFriday, which was the day when we all went to confession - what a small childwould have t o confess I don't know. But then the fol lowing Friday he was tobe buried, but because he didn't attend that confession, the priest refused tobury him.

But did you say you did go to St Josephs in Jamestown?

Yes.

So that's after that.

That was a f t e r tha t . But by tha t t ime Dad had col lected us and took us toJamestown and of course, had told - - -. Mother had told him a l l about i t and


he agreed w i t h Mother and f rom then on - - -. We only attended St Josephsfor a l i t t l e while and then we le f t and went to the Jamestown school. And wenever asked why or anything. We never said, you know, we didn't want to goto that school or anything. We just naturally did what we were told. But thatwas a very hard t ime for Mother.

END OF TAPE 1 SIDE B: TA P E 2 SIDE A

Do you think that it affected your schooling, moving about so much?

Well, I th ink we learnt more by travell ing about and mixing with other people

than we would have learnt i n school. We learnt t o be tolerant. Because, inyour class you would f i nd perhaps a Chinese ch i ld o r a Aborigine chi ld o rsomething l ike that, and you would never - i t would never cross your mind tothink, 'Oh, I don't want t o play w i th them because they're a di fferent colourto me'. No, you accepted everybody as you met them.

And not only that , in those days work was hard to get - st i l l is - but youdidn't look down on your neighbour. In f ac t you helped your neighbour. Youjolly wel l had to. Because in Whyalla, for instance, we had one doctor and onenurse, and i f your neighbours didn't bog in and help, well you were stranded i fyou l iked to be nasty. I went down with diphtheria in Whyalla and apparently Imust've been very sick, because the neighbours were al l around in these l i t t leold shanties, home-made homes, and they were kindness i tsel f . Because one'dget your washing o f f the l ine and iron i t - and they had Pott's irons and thatto do them in - one'd make a slide of scones, or come over, or a pot o f soup.Or so meone'd say, 'Well, you've been s i t t ing up w i th a sick chi ld. I ' l l s i t upwith her tonight, ' or something l ike that. Your neighbours were there and theyhelped wi l l ingly because nobody had anything better than anybody else. Therewas no carpets, no refr igerators, no anything to boast about. You were on apar - you were a l l o f just the one working class - so you hopped in and youhelped.

The same as when the lady died in a tent - that was a very sad episode.You might not want to hear about that.

What was that?

Well, everybody l ived i n tents because there weren't any houses unless youmade them yoursel f and then you had t h e wo rk o f t h e wor ld t o ge t t h ematerial t o bui ld wi th . Everybody l ived in tents. Well , th is lady, she and herhusband had two tents together. One held a double bed and the other one wassort o f - you l ived in i t . You had your meals in i t , you played your cards, you


entertained your friends and that in this tent . Well, there wasn't much roomin ten ts . B u t he r husband wen t t o wo rk and t h e lady must've been i l l o rsomething. But anyhow, she went back to bed and she died. Well, by the t imehe came home f rom work, r igor mort is had set in and he thought, 'Oh dear,what can I do?', you know, the poor man. Just take her up to her mother'shouse, because she had what they called a big shanty - big rooms and that. Sohe put her over his shoulder to carry her up to where her mother lived, and ofcourse she was bent double because she was laying in the bed, you see.

So when they got up there, and of course they were Irish - their name wasBurns too bu t they were no relat ion t o us - they had t o have the wake o fcourse. So everybody brought sheets and they pinned them up around the wallsand there was candles and candlesticks - o f course everybody used candlesand candlesticks - and they sort o f strapped the body down on to the table,because i t was bent. And they thought i t was a terr ib ly hot day - something

like this too [over 1070F] _ and they thought, oh, wel l , we' l l t i e her down andperhaps i t ' l l thaw out before the men down the sawmil l can make a coff in.And my father was the sawyer down there and he had to do the t imber for thecoffin.

So o f course they were having the wake tha t evening, and the dear o ldmother i s saying, 'Why did you die? Why did you die?' and the body's layingthere a n d everybody's u p s e t a n d t h a t , a n d everybody w a s h o t a n duncomfortable. And my young brother - my young brother Joe - and a coupleof his mates, they l i f ted up the wall, because the wall was only bag - i t wasn'tnailed down to the ground or anything - they crawled under and with a pocketknife they cu t the rope. And the body suddenly sat up. Oh, dear, they h i t forthe hi l ls I t e l l you. But i t was very upsetting. Mother never found out fo r along t i m e t h a t h e was t h e one t h a t d id i t , because he would have got athrashing. Bu t i t upset everybody, th is body s i t t ing up suddenly, because i twas st i l l bent you see.

And anyhow the next day was just as hot as this, and Whyalla never had aproper cemetery fenced o f f o r anything. I t was just out - a hole among thesalt bushes. So they took the - - -. Only thing they had to carry the coff in inwas a dray and the old plodding horse that used to take our water around, andthey put the coff in up in the dray and then plodding on and on through the saltbush and the re was no indicat ion o f where they were t o go o r anything,because i t was just a spot on the map. And there was no minister, because inthose days we had what they cal l a travell ing minister. Well he was nowherewithin sight o f the place - goodness knows where he was. I t wasn't his turn to


call on Whyalla anyway I don't suppose. Anyhow, they plod, plod, plod throughthe bush - te r r ib le th ing - and the mother would fa in t . So they'd take thecoff in out o f the dray and put the mother up in the dray and carry the coff in.So they give her a nip o f brandy and she come around. Then they'd take herout o f the dray and they'd put the coff in back in. Plod, plod, through the heatagain.

Eventually they found the hole among the salt bush and - - -. They had areal old character. Every town has to have i ts character - this fool, or what-ever you call him, you know. And this poor old fel low - he's a dear old fel low -but he was called j iggy. And in those days they used to close the hotels at six,and the sun was going down, and they were waiting around for the minister tocome. Well, nobody had thought to get in touch with the minister or anything.Goodness only knows where the minister was. He could been down at Lock orPort Lincoln or somewhere. And old Jiggy's looking at the horse and the cartand he's looking a t a l l t he mourners and he's saying, 'Hurry up, hurry up -bloody pub' l l be shut,' you know - 'bloody pub - come on'. 'No, we can't go,'said m y fa ther, 'This is terr ib le. You can't leave the coff in on the top of thegrave l ike that , and go o f f and leave i t ' . Well, we lower her in, as I said. Sothey were lowering the coff in in to the grave and someone le t go of his ropeand i t slipped, and i t fe l l . And there was the poor thing standing on top of herhead in this grave.

Well, i t was that hot, and they had no idea of how to get the coff in out ofthe grave o r what to do. My father was highly indignant. He thought i t wasdreadful, and they al l did, you know. And anyway they had to go and leave herbecause old Jiggy would say, 'Pub be shut - come on, hurry up, get up in thecart, bloody pub'l l be shut'. So they a l l got up in the car t and they took o f fand they went in to the town to the one and only pub, and my father was sodisgusted, and they had to walk back miles and miles and miles in this terr ibleheat. And i t wasn't unti l about two days af ter that the minister heard about i tand came, and then they had the proper funeral. And somebody climbed downand they straightened the coff in out , but she'd been standing on her head forabout two days. And, oh, that 's how rough and ready Whyalla was. And myfather never got over that. He thought that was terr ible, because he'd helpedto make the coff in and everything. But, poor dear.

Yes. With your father's work, would he be doing physical labour involved with thevarious places he was working?


No, driving engines mostly. But i f there was a breakdown or anything he couldrepair i t . But he was an engine dr iver - you know, an engineer probably. No,he cou ld d o anything. H e cou ld mend ca rs and h e cou ld mend sausagemachines f o r t he butcher, o r do anything l ike tha t . I f there was an enginebreakdown or anything, send for Joe Burns, he'l l know what to do. And he didtoo. He just had that inst inct for - - -. And yet he hadn't had that marvellouseducation t h a t they depend on now f o r universi ty and degrees. I t was justinstinct with him. Oh yes, Whyalla was pretty rough and ready.

From what you've been saying - - -. Did you leave school when you were aboutfourteen?

I le f t school when I was fourteen.

So you would have had the most part of your schooling at Whyalla?

Yes, Grade 7 was you main thing then.

What was the school like at Whyalla?

Well, I don't know how we ever learnt anything because one - al l the classeswere in one room. And it 's st i l l there today but of course it 's much bigger nowand they've extended i t . But the school I went to school in is s t i l l there, andone big room. They had i t from the babies up to Grade 7 in one room. And yetwe learned and we had a very good - I think, a very good education. You hadthe Children's Hour which I believe now are worth quite a lo t of money. I'vesti l l got some of the old ones there.

But tha t was your recreation. You'd get your holidays - - -. You'd get afew days o f f a t Easter and you'd get your Christmas holidays, but tha t wasthe only holidays we had. Yo u didn't have them every quarter and that l ikeyou do now. And to go away somewhere for a holiday was absolutely - oh, youknow, you real ly were up there wi th Princess Diana sort of thing, i f you couldgo away for a holiday. But we used to do the same things on our holiday as wedid a t weekends. Go out crabbing in the beach - because they had the mostbeautiful beach there - and you could sel l a bag o f crabs f o r sixpence. Weused to go just to get our pocket money.

And they had a l i t t l e - what we used to cal l a t in hall, in Whyalla. Therewas just l ike a big wood and iron shed and the l ibrary consisted of a big cup-board in the corner, and that was the l ibrary. And everybody would go to thepictures on a Saturday night. And i t was a man's town - there was nowhere formen to go, and nothing fo r them to do, and some of them, perhaps on payday,would get a b i t drunk. They'd turn up a t the pictures on Saturday night and


pay your shi l l ing t o go in - sixpence f o r chi ldren - and perhaps the picturewould break down on the old fashioned machine or something, and while theywere repairing i t some old fel low who had too much to drink would get up thefront and say, ' I f you're game enough t o come up and get i t , I ' l l give you aquid' - tha t was a pound. And I was cheeky enough or not - I got up, went upand I took the pound f rom h im. I can remember Mother giving me a hardersmack I th ink she'd ever given me. How dared I . Bu t she took the pound.(laughs)

But i t was a real man's town - real rough and ready - and they used to playtwo u p and, y o u know, t h e y had t o d o something, because they were, Isuppose, in those days, earning good money. But Whyalla was isolated and i tst i l l is, and you cannot get anywhere on a weekend unless you caught the tugboat and went over t o Por t P ine . Bu t sometimes the weather would be sorough, tha t the wind would sweep you up towards Port Augusta and the boat'dhave to beat i ts way back down the Gulf to get into Port Pine.

You've been mentioning - Whyalla certainly was a man's town. What was yourfather's attitude to drink?

He never drank - never drank. He had a drink of beer socially and that was i t- that was enough. And Mother never drank and Mother never smoked.

Was you father interested in gambling?

Oh, h e l i ked h i s game o f two-up. H e would do tha t , b u t he had cer ta instandards. He'd be playing perhaps two-up in a ring and some man over thereperhaps would ge t a b i t boisterous - s tar t using fou l language o r cheat hismate o r something l i ke tha t - and Dad would pack up and go home. I neversaw my father drunk in his l i fe. He'd l ike a social drink and he'd pour anyoneout a drink, and he didn't mind anyone having a drink, but there was a certainstandard beyond which he did not go.

My brother, unfortunately, he - af ter he le f t home, was wandering aroundthe world - wel l , he got t o l ike his drink. But i f he played up when he camehome Dad would clamp down on him. Sometimes he'd come home af ter beingaway perhaps two or three years - you'd forget that you even had a brother.Then suddenly you'd come home f rom work one afternoon and he'd be there.But he never stayed long. He had the wanderlust in him, and he went al l overthe world. The most queer places. You'd get stamps, or something from himsometime or another. But he only wrote home when he fe l t l ike i t , and neverany forwarding address. Yo u never ever knew where he was f rom year t oyear. Bu t he was t he only wanderer t ha t we ever had. The rest were verycloseknit - they st i l l are.


Pd like to talk a l itt le bit more about your home life when you were in Whyalla.You've described the house to me. It would've been up on wooden planks was it?

Yes, i t had a wooden f loor. Oh yes, but the rest was sand. I t was built r ight onthe beach. And you'd wake up in the morning and hear the waves on the beachand the seagulls. No, we were very happy there. I t was pr imi t ive but i t washappy, and there was always plenty of food.

This photograph you were showing me of the town in about 1917 [see copy of thisrather battered photograph on file] which was soon after you got there - -

Yes, th is is taken f rom the top of Hum mock Hi l l , and this is stretching r ightout. I th ink the house tha t my husband and I finished up l iv ing in - that wastaken in 1917. The Inst i tute and that sort o f thing were not bui l t then. Theywere bui l t later on. This house here, with sort of a white wall - was one of thebiggest houses. And next door to that was the only stone house in Whyalla. I twas the doctor's residence, and i t was a beautiful home. I t was the only stoneone Whyalla had - was the doctor's residence. But t ha t one w i th the whi tewall, that's the one my husband and I finished up living in. [The doctor's houseis below the water tanks on the railway line, CS's house is to the right.]

What are these houses [for most in photograph] made of?

They're corrugated i ron and they're a l l bui l t the same and they're a l l facinginto what la ter became known as Gay Street. There's four rooms - six rooms,two l i t t l e ones a t t he back - and t h a t on the end i s your chimney - yourkitchen chimney and f i rep lace - and that 's your dining room chimney andfireplace. And as you can see they're facing into the hi l l , and they had greatbig stretches o f steps down the back. Well, my sister l ived in this one - shelived in tha t one [ th i rd one f rom r ight end], and her l i t t l e g i r l f e l l down theback steps and ou r nearest hospital was P o r t Augusta. A n d she had con-cussion, and she never got over i t - she died, at the age of eighteen month.

I can see the coast in the corner.

They're hills there.

Yes, hills, and then the sea coming in - -

The sea coming i n there, and tha t - la ter here is where they bui l t the shipyard. And here where now the Pel let Plant is. And fur ther over here wherethis spot would be, is what they cal l Port - - O h , Stony Point we called i t -it's where the big oil thing is now - the big oil ref inery.

And when you were talking about your family home, when you first went there,would that have been in this area?


Yes, down here on the beach, where the sea comes in - i t was bui l t there onthat beach.

How long did the family live there?

Oh, many years.

All the time until you went to Port Pine?

No. Oh, yes, i t was st i l l there when we went to Port Pine, but when we cameback we l ived - - -. They had bui l t houses by then, along the side of that hil l ,and we were in one o f those houses. Bui l t something l ike this but a big bigger- and they were Company's houses. And the Company would take the rent outof your pay packet before you got i t and you wouldn't miss i t . And water and -in those new houses - water and electr ic i ty were supplied free. You didn't payfor tha t - tha t was a l l in - and any repairs or anything in the houses neededdoing, the Company would come and do them.

And I can see the railway line would have gone right by your house?

Yes, that goes r ight up to Iron Knob, th i r t y mi le away. And that was anothernice town. But i t was so windy out on the Nullabor Plain that the houses al lwere fastened down w i t h great strong i ron w i re ropes over the top o f thehouses, and bel ted in to the ground, t o keep them f rom blowing away. Ye tpeople got to l ike the place and to l ive there, and to know your neighbour, andyou sort of made the best of i t - you were really happy.

Yes, you were describing the house that your father built out of bags and kerosenetins and the like. Did you live in that same structure for many years as you weregrowing up?

Yes, I was growing up in i t . I 'd be about fourteen - oh, be a b i t older thanthat, because I was working before we l e f t Whyalla. I took a job as a nurse-maid a t the hotel - fo r the hotel keeper's w i fe w i th her l i t t l e daughter. Andthen Dad thought, we were growing up, and we were not having the l i fe thatyoung gir ls should have. In the meantime, of course, many, many years beforethat, they had adopted m y mother's niece. He r parents had been k i l led i nKalgoorlie and Uncle had brought her over to us and my father took that gir l ,just t he same as i f she was his own daughter. She was - l ike, between mysister Winifred and myself - and he brought her up. Well, he thought, well, thegirls - Dorothy and myself Winifred - were growing up and we were missingwhat young girls should have, he thought, in the way of social l i fe and that.

So he applied fo r a transfer back to Port P ine and he was working in thePort P ine foundry fo r a long t ime. Then he was driving the smelters on the


Port P ine wharfs, and of course then we began to have the social l i fe that hewanted us to have, and going to the dances and that. And I was working at theCentral Hotel as a housemaid.

Yes, well I'd like to talk with you about your work in a few minutes. So, how old doyou think you were when you moved to Port Pine?

I'd be about sixteen. And then I began to go out, go to dances and that sort ofthing, and that's where I met Al len [husband]. Then my cousin - that they hadadopted - she met the man that she married. Unfortunately she died when shewas th i r t y eight o f cancer, and her husband just recently died. She ended upwith two l i t t l e girls. Then my sister Winifred - she met her man, and she gotmarried i n P o r t P i n e , and m y eldest s ister had already been marr ied i nWhyalla and they came t o l i ve in Por t P ine and they're s t i l l there. So PortPine became the nucleus really of the family home, because when my parentsdied my eldest sister sort o f took their place and we used to cal l Mother theOld Queen Bee, because the hive used to gather around Mother. And so mysister took her place and st i l l today they gather around my eldest sister.

You were saying that as you were growing up your family would have boardersliving round you in tents. Would your mother be cooking for them?

Yes. Or Mother and my two sisters.

So that was a way of getting some extra income for the family.

Yes, real ly not that i t did much good because there was nothing to spend i t onanyway. But the neighbours used to club together and the tug used to go backand for th once a week from Whyalla to Port Pine and take the men's pay overand then - sort of keep the town supplied. Well the neighbours all got togetherand they would decide they would have this big order, and they used to send i tdown t o John Mart in 's, o r one o f the b ig f i r ms down there, and they'd getgreat big t ins o f honey and t ins o f jams in that way, and i t was cheaper l ivingthat way than having the one l i t t l e shop in Whyalla who would put their ownprices on. Because there was no way of controll ing that sort of thing.

Then you'd be wait ing for the tug boat to come in across the Gulf and say,'Oh,' you know, 'we' l l have some honey tonight, ' or something l ike that . Andthe neighbours would al l get together. Mrs So and So'd have two tins of honeyand somebody else would have three tins of jam - and buy things in quantity.

Then la te r on the men got together i n Whyalla, and they decided they'dhave their own l i t t le co-op store - which is st i l l standing to this day. And theytook out shares or whatever i t is they do - I don't know much about that sortof thing, but they had the i r own l i t t l e shop. And they would buy in bulk and


then you would go and you would buy f rom the l i t t l e shop. So that was howthey found the i r way around these very high prices as they used t o say inthose days. Now, i f you could buy a loaf o f bread of sixpence you'd think youwere marvellous. But in those days they reckoned i t was too dear.

When your family were living, as you've described, down near the beach, wouldyour father had to pay rent on that place?

No. No, t h a t was - - -. You bui l t your house wherever you could f ind i t andthat was i t .

But you wouldn't have owned the land that it stood on?

No, never owned i t . I t belonged t o t he Government, o r Commonwealth o rwhatever t hey ca l l i t - bu t t he Company did have a big f inger i n the pie,which they s t i l l do, because they real ly supported the town. They made theroads, they supplied the e lect r ic i ty, they supplied the water. But Father bui l ta boat and they used to go out fishing, and i t was a real carefree sort of l i fethat we had. I t might've been rough and ready but I think we were happy.

You've mentioned how precious water was when you were growing up. Were youable to grow any sorts of vegetables?

No. No, because the town was not - - -. Now, they have a big fence aroundWhyalla - dog proof fence. B u t you couldn't have anything because - -Mother used to leave her d i r ty washing water in the tubs underneath the treesand th ink we l l - - -. That was the only washhouse - laundry, she had - wasunderneath a b ig t ree. And she'd leave her d i r t y soapy water out there andthink, 'Oh, I ' l l use that tomorrow for something,' but the wild donkeys and thewild horses would come i n f r o m outback and they 'd stampede, and therewouldn't be a drop o f tha t water l e f t . Because there'd be a drought outback,you see, and the poor things would eat anything, o r dr ink anything. But wecould never have a garden, although the soil, I believe, w i l l grow anything.

There was what they cal led a soak. They've bu i l t over i t now - they'vebuilt the shipyard over i t - but there was a soak of water. But of course, whenthey started t o build on that , tha t took that away from the animals. And weused t o go there. A t t he soak, you'd see the ground a l l damp and the oldtobacco bushes growing there, because there was fresh water - there was afresh water spring. And we'd go down and catch rabbits, which wasn't very faraway from home. But as the Company began to expand - - -. They should not -never have interfered wi th that spring, and I think they could have built theirbig buildings or something round i t , and st i l l l e f t i t there. But that was - -I t wasn't a wel l or anything. I t was just soaking up through the ground enoughto keep the things wet and green.


Thinking a l i t t le bit again about your school days. Were you ever kept home fromschool?

No, not wi l l ingly. What do you mean?

Well, some of the people who I've spoken to mention that they only had to attendschool a certain number of days each quarter, under the law, and so they'd be kepthome to do housework or helping their parents or something like that.

Oh no. No, t ha t never happened, not in our fami ly - not in our t ime. No, wewent t o school a l l the school week. You looked forward to your night out onthe Saturday night, where you'd pay sixpence to go and see Charlie Chaplin,and buy sixpenneth of acid drops.

And that 's another school memory, too. M y son brought m e home somefrom Clunes when he went over there, and there's a jar in there. Because I'veoften spoken about going t o the pictures. You'd work f o r your money too.You'd c lean a l l t he f am i l y boots and you'd get a shil l ing. Sixpence goes t opictures, sixpenneth of acid drops. You liked the acid drops because they sentfair ly pains up the side of your face. I don't know why i t is now, but they seemto taste di fferent . But that was one of my childhood memories which I passedon t o m y son. A n d when he went t o Melbourne just recent ly, w i t h his twol i t t le daughters, they went to visit Clunes and that's how I know it 's st i l l not adead town, and he bought me back a jar of acid drops.

I know acid drops are very strong, but pains in your teeth - did you have troublewith your teeth when you were growing up?

Oh yes, d i d w e ever? Yo u never t h ink o f going t o a dent is t o r anythingbecause you l ive too far out in the bush to go to a dentist. And I don't supposedentists were that plent i fu l in those days. But Father used to say, 'Come on,'and he'd g ive us a c igaret te. Ho ld t h e c igaret te i n your mouth and - -Whether i t was because we were knocked stupid by the cigarette or what, orwhether i t was imagination, bu t , w e used t o ge t over t h e toothache. Weeventually ended up - - -. Because Mother used to in to town once a week todo her shopping, but they couldn't take al l o f us of course, and we'd be lef t athome. Bu t i f we had a real ly bad toothache o r something, then they wouldhave to take us in and get the tooth pulled out.

Was this in Whyalla?

No, this was back in the Barooga days. But we all had fa i r ly good teeth, as wegrew older and grew out o f the baby ways. We al l ended up wi th good teeth.No, I don't th ink any o f us - - I just had the diphtheria, and I was very i l lwith that and Mother lost the boy wi th the polio, but apart f rom that we just


had the childhood things o f measles or mumps, or something l ike that. Noneof us were born mental ly retarded o r anything wrong w i th us. We were a l lpretty strong and healthy.

Did your mother have any sorts of home remedies that she used?

Oh yes, gracious me. Dock leaves, go out and pull up marshmallows and makepoultices ou t o f them, o r roast an onion in the oven i f you had the earacheand take the core out of the hot oven and put in your ear. And only once was Ireally - went home from school crying. I went l ike that - your hair was plaitedof course, p la i ts a t the back, they'd turn up the handles o f a cup - and thisjolly b lowf ly was f ly ing around, and of course I'm wr i t ing on a slate, and thisjolly b lowf ly went past my ear and I went l ike that. And I knocked him r ightinto my ear. And, oh, I ' l l never forget the agony of that . The jol ly thing wasbuzzing, and i t was - you know, I was only l i t t le .

Oh, I can remember crying l ike anything and running al l the way home toMother w i t h th is jo l l y buzzing th ing i n my ear. The teacher looked in - hecouldn't see anything, I was imagining things. And i t would go quiet and Iwould th ink , 'Thank goodness,' you know. Then 'wzzzzz', r igh t i n my ear. Irushed home to Mother and I cried all the way. And she put me on the bed andpoured a spoonful o f warm olive oi l into my ear and i t went 'wzz' and f lew upand dropped dead on the side of my face on the pil low. And I was so exhaustedwith crying that I must've slept, I think, for hours afterwards.

END OF TAPE 2 SIDE A: TA P E 2 SIDE B

We were talking about various home remedies. Some families I've been told aboutwere given things each week to keep them regular.

Oh yes. Yo u had t o have your dose o f castor o i l . Oh, Mother would you apenny to have a dose o f castor o i l . Oh, did I hate castor oi l . So you'd line upand you'd get your penny for your castor oil, and then Mother'd take the pennyaway f rom you and then she'd have enough to buy another bott le of castor oi llater on.

But the worst remedy I th ink I can remember is what my mother-in-lawused to use on my husband fo r chilblains. He used to be sent out to get thecows on a winter morning wi thout any boots on and of course his feet wouldcrack open and t h a t w i t h chilblains. A n d she would go down in to the fow lhouse and - this is my mother-in-law - and gather up the dry fowl manure, andput i t into an old dish and pour boiling water on i t . Well, you can just imaginethe odour! So, she'd make him pu t his feet in that . I t healed him - i t curedthem - bu t he used t o hate i t , and he of ten used t o say, 'Oh dear, oh dear


Mum'. Then he got them on his ears and his mother would bathe his ear in thisterrible fowl smelling fowl manure.

But, many, many a t i m e they 'd b e thankfu l f o r t h e o l d recipes. Themarshmallows and stinging nettles - they make good poultices.

What sort of things would you be poulticing?

Well, sometimes you'd get a blind - what they called a blind boi l - and theywouldn't - - -. They'd be throbbing and tha t , bu t they wouldn't break. So i twould end up tha t you would have to have this red hot poultice made out o fdock leaves - or marshmallows as we cal l them - and poured boiling water onthem and pu t them on your arm. They do l ike Antiphlogist in does now. Andeventually i t come up - - I suppose i t was the heat tha t would draw i t up.But the most cruel thing I saw anyone do to a blind boil was to - - A glassbottle, and rinse i t out suddenly wi th hot water, and then slap i t on the thing,and o f course the vacuum o f the thing would draw the thing up - the boil, upinto the bot t le . And you couldn't get i t o f f . And, oh, i t must've been agony.I've seen them - the men, nearly crying wi th i t - when somebody has done i tto them.

Did you see that in your childhood?

Yes, I saw that . And things that I saw in my childhood too tha t my son w i l lnever see, are the oxen wagons, drawing those great big tree trunks with his[the driver's] sixty foo t long whip and these beautiful great big animals. Andthings l ike t ha t tha t I 've seen tha t my son w i l l never see. But he wishes hecould too. He's got a soft spot for the old times.

You've mentioned that you couldn't have a garden. You also said that you'd takeyour fowls with you from one place to another. Did you have them in Whyalla?

No, we didn't take those t o Whyalla. Mum got r id of them al l , I suppose. Shegot sick of lugging them around. But when we had to go over in the boat, well,that was a d i f fe rent thing, you know. She got r i d o f those then, because i ttook us nearly a l l day to go across from Port Pine to Whyalla in the tug boat,and Mother and my two sisters were very bad sailors. They'd ordered the i rdinner on the boat and I 'd end up eating them, because they were very badsailors, but I'm a good travel ler.

During your years in Whyalla, did you yourself ever visit Port Pine or Adelaide asa girl?

Yes. Not Adelaide. Adelaide was out of our scope. But when we went to Pine,of course, i t was a d i f ferent thing. I t was a new world opening up for young


people, because there was dances, and Port Pine was a very busy, active townthen.

You said you went to Whyalla in about 1916 and then the family moved to PortPink in about 1924. Did you visit Port Pine before those times?

No. No, because you'd have to save up to go across on the boat or something.My mother used to . She used to go over in my own father's boat sometimesand do some shopping, and buy up f o r the neighbours and herself and thencome back t o Whyalla on the boat. But i f the weather was bad, wel l i t was abit worrisome because that Gulf can be very rough.

You mentioned that your mother was a tailoress before she married.

Yes.

Did she make your own clothes?

Yes, most o f them. She had a l i t t le hand machine. And then as she grew - youknow, things grew a b i t more prosperous and we grew older, she had a tredlemachine, which I 've only just parted w i th mine, too, because we moved intothis f la t and it 's too small. But, oh, I miss my old tredle - my sewing machine.

Did she teach you how to sew?

No, I don't know - - -. My sister-in-law taught me how to sew. No, we werealways - I don't know why i t is. I never learnt to kn i t and I never learnt tocrochet, but my other two sisters did. So when my fami ly was coming alongthey were the ones tha t d id a l l the kn i t t ing and the sewing. I didn't botherabout that sort of thing.

Let's talk about various activities when you were growing up in Whyalla. Duringyour school days, what sort of things would you do on a Saturday?

Well, we'd go out crabbing mostly, on the beach - go out - or fishing, or havea fami ly picnic on the beach. You'd play tennis or cr icket and everybody kneweverybody else, you know. And you'd play cr icket on the beach or you'd madlydash in and out of the water in your bathers. That sort of thing. I t was healthyopen a i r l i f e . B u t somebody would g ive a pa r t y sometimes and o f courseeverybody would go, and we'd have supper, and then you'd play forfei ts. I f soand so who's wearing the longest underpants or something, has t o pay a fo r -fei t . And then you'd th ink up something tha t he had to do as punishment fordoing i t .

How did you find out who had the longest underpants?


Oh wel l , then, you'd say, 'Well, I 'm wearing them', r ight . Well you've got toget up and sing 'God Save the King' o r something l i ke that . You'd have t oimpose a f o r f e i t on him f o r doing so. And, oh, you'd play outside a t night.You'd play what they cal l rounders, or three-threes, and you'd run one behindthe other and - games l ike that. And the elderly people, they seemed to enjoythem jus t as much as the kids. Now, they wouldn't dream o f doing i t , youknow, wouldn't lower the i r d ign i ty. Bu t we used t o p lay t w o -twos and runaround - - I f three were in a row, one'd have to run away and get behind theother three, and things l ike that - rounders, and ring-a-ring-a-rosie, and yourown mode o f footbal l . Because they used to have a footbal l match betweenIron Knob and Whyalla - and they were the bitterest of enemies - and Whyallahad thei r own games. They had thei r North, South and Centrals - football -and, oh, you'd def ini tely go and cheer your team madly on. The oval was builton a sort of a h i l l and hard stony ground, and you'd stand around the oval andyou'd cheer your crowd on, and many a t ime I've seen women come to blowsover thei r favouri te team. One'd foster her team because she used to go downwith a big thermos of hot soup, and she'd give her players a drink of hot soupat interval t ime. But, oh, they were real ly - real tough games - because themen used to really play.

And I can remember their f i rs t grandstand in Whyalla. They bui l t i t on thisside, and the ground sloped upwards, and you'd get up on the top seat of thegrandstand, the roof was coming down, you couldn't see anything. Oh, theyhad a very grand opening. They had a red carpet out and the band played andsomebody declared this grandstand open, and i t was real rough and ready oldsleepers and tha t t o s i t on, and you'd get caught up on splinters and every-thing. I t was a real rough old, ready o ld grandstand, but they had this verygreat b i g display, and I t h ink i t was a lady o f t h e day, o r t he lady whoselected herself mayoress of Whyalla or something, declared i t open. So all ofthe children - young ones l ike us - got up on the top row, and the roof camedown tha t way, and as the ground sloped upwards, you couldn't see anything.Oh, dear, she was a rough l i fe.

Let's talk a little bit about Sundays and your family's religion. You've said that youwere Catholic, but that you perhaps didn't necessarily attend church regularly.

No, we didn't , no t a f te r the trouble w i th the priest. Mother never botheredvery much about i t a t a l l . We l ived wi th in our - you know, the way we werebrought up - brought up decent t o honour our God under our hat . We werenever forced to go. Sometimes we'd go i f we fe l t l ike going, but Mum and Dadnever ever bothered af ter that - that terr ible episode seemed to empty her ofall obligation to the church.


Let's talk about Whyalla. You've said that the minister would be travelling about.

Yes, t h a t was in the very early days, long before they bui l t a presbytery inWhyalla, Then t h e Company bu i l t a church - what they ca l l a communitychurch. A l l t he denominations used the church, and t ha t was where I wasmarried, and my sister was married, and her son was married, in later years.

This was in Whyalla?

Yes. B u t Whyal la and Hum mock H i l l i n those days, t hey used t o have atravell ing minister. I don't know where he was stationed, but he would travelaround and he would perform marriages or christenings, or anything like that,or perhaps a late funeral or somebody had been buried without the rites, andhe would go out and read the rites. Things l ike that. He was sort of a generalfactotum. But where he was stationed I wouldn't know, but he had to t ravelaround t he d is t r i c t and dispense rel igion, and bir thday parties and things -whatever was happening, he would be there.

From what I have heard there was - particularly during the World War I years -quite a deal o f i l l -feeling between Catholics and Protestants. D id you everencounter any of this?

No, nothing l ike that, not in Whyalla we didn't. I don't know. I don't think thathas ever real ly happened, as far as I am aware. We never made any differencewith anybody, no ma t te r wha t the i r re l ig ion was. A s my Dad said, they'rehuman beings, and they've got the r ight to their religion the same as anybodyelse. But we never ever encounted anything l ike that.

As you said, there were quite a lot of fairly rough men living in Whyalla in yourchildhood.

Oh yes.

Were there areas of the town that you weren't allowed to go?

Well, we were never al lowed around the men's - what they'd cal l the men'scamp. M o s t o f t h e m e n had t en t s o n t h e beaches. B u t w e never eve rencountered anybody that was rough or unkind, or in any way suggestive to achild. In f ac t we never ever heard o r saw anything l ike tha t . And ye t tha ttown was f u l l o f men, bu t w e were always shown the utmost respect and,looking back on i t now, I can quite see that there was many a case where achild could have been taken away and molested or something l ike that . Butthat sort o f thing never ever happened. I think the men were too engrossed indoing the i r day's work and try ing to f ind something to f i l l i n their t ime af terwork. They were - men were men - and they were sort of mixed together andthey played two-up and whatever else they wanted to do. And there was only

ATB/I3/129-606 M r s A.M. 'Coral' STARKE 3 6 .'S.A. SPEAKS' 8 6 0 6

the one hotel and they'd spend their t ime drinking there, but we were - - Iworked a t t he hotel f o r many years too, and I never ever was sworn a t o rnever ever had anything rough or ready said to me. I t must've been a differentclass of men I think.

Let's ta lk about when you le f t school, aged about fourteen. Up until that t imeyou've mentioned being paid for some chores you did in the family.

Like pocket money.

Yes, and collecting crabs for pocket money. Did you do any other sort of paidwork before you left school?

No. No, never.

What about when you did leave school? Did you have any idea of what sort of workyou could do or wanted to do?

No. A l l I wanted to do was to wr i te . And I do now, for the grandchildren - Iwrite stor ies and poems. Bu t t ha t was jus t m y one ambit ion. I wanted t owrite.

Had the family had many books as you were growing up?

Oh yes, ve ry, ve ry much. I n fac t , people would walk in to our house some-times, and everybody, bu t everybody, would be s i t t ing around reading, andnobody would look up and speak. And I've seen my father s i t up all night witha book, and when I 'd go up i n t he morning t o go t o work a t the Ranch i nWhyalla when I worked in the Men's Ranch, Dad would s t i l l be s i t t ing therereading f r om where he was s i t t ing the n ight before. He'd been reading a l lnight, and then he'd cheerful ly go o f f t o work. But we were great readers,always have been - you can see by now.

Yes. Where would you get books from in Whyalla?

They had a l i t t l e l ibrary there and people had a habit o f swapping books. I fyour neighbour had read a book and l iked i t , then you'd borrow i t and so onand s o on . B u t w e always had books. I t h i nk Mother used t o send awaysometimes and buy books, or get a fr iend to go to one of these markets, youknow, and buy a heap of books, and then the neighbours would share them. Wehad a sort o f - our own small circulating l ibrary. And then you knew very wellthat Mrs Jones had read tha t because she'd jo l ly wel l wrote her name on i tand she shouldn't have, because somebody else wanted t o borrow i t . No ,everybody hopped in and helped everybody else.

Did you have any opportunity to do any writing when you were a girl?


As a k id I did. I used t o expend myself a t dictat ion a t school. They used tohave what they called a day fo r dictat ion, and i f you could choose your ownsubject I was o f f and away l ike the wind. But books, and paper and pencils -this sort of thing - were a l i t t le bi t much to ask Mother to keep buying all thetime. You only had your school pencils and that sort of thing. And when therewas nine o f them and - wel l , o f course my older ones, sisters and brothers,were not going to school at that t ime. But, in those days, you could pass yourschool book - your spelling book, o r something - on t o the next one in thefamily. B u t w r i t i ng mater ia ls and - - -. Because I wasn't a l l t h a t - - Isuppose I was more of a tomboy than anything, and I never really settled downto wr i te. But reading and wr i t ing were my main loves. I s t i l l do wr i te a lot. Iwri te ar t ic les and t ha t f o r - comical things usually I wr i te , about instantweather and things l ike that . Shopping. Going madly shopping and making i tall very funny. I passed them on to my son and he's had them printed for me.

Did you have musical instruments in the house?

Yes. My brother was very musical. He l iked mouth organ and the guitar. Butwe a l l sang, and we could a l l rec i te yards and yards o f poetry. And Motherwas a real dab a t that , because when Mum did anything, she got up and sheacted i t . She didn't just s i t there and say i t , she got up and did all the actionsand everything. And school concerts, especially, we were a l l p re t ty good at.You had to be picked in the school concert or else, you know. That was a verygreat honour t o be chosen t o play a fa i r y a t the Christmas t ree, o r schoolconcert l ike that. A p i t y they don't have them now because school concerts -you'd l ive fo r them a t the end of the year, and you'd rehearse your lines overand over. And i f you had to sing a song you made sure you were word perfect.My sister Winifred was very small and very dainty and she was a great lass fordancing the Ir ish reel and the Erin a n d al l that sortof thing - she was very good at i t . She was - - -. And we all danced, every oneof us.

Talking about the time when you left school, did you know that you would have togo out to work?

Oh yes. Yes, I knew that . Dad was very part icular about where we went t owork and who we worked for.

What sort of opportunities would there have been for girls working in Whyalla?

Not very much. St i l l is not much in Whyalla for girls, even to this day.

What sort of things in your day?


Well, most ly, as I said i t was a man's town, and they had this Men's Ranchwhere they used to have meals, and we had a very good cook. His name wasMr Charles Car ter, and he was a marvellous cook, and they had f i ve w a i t -resses and I was one o f them. And the men would come in at meal t imes fortheir meals, and everything would be ready and they'd come up to the slideand you'd rec i te what was on the menu, and then they would say, 'Well, I ' l lhave so and so, thank you', and you'd get i t for them. Then they'd help them-selves to tea, sugar and bread and al l that sort o f thing. The table's would beset and everything would be done, bu t on a huge scale because there washundreds of men.

Before we ta lk about the Men's Ranch, you mentioned that you also went as achild's nurse.

Oh yes. I was about - very, very young then. I was a nurse maid for the hotel'sone and only l i t t l e granddaughter, and I used to take her out in the pram andthat sor t o f th ing, because they were a l l working in the hotel you see, themother and the father and the grandmas and the grandpa - i t was a fami lyhotel.

Would that have been the first work that you did after leaving school?

Yes, t ha t was the f i r s t wo rk I d id a f te r leaving school. And then I went t owork at the Ranch.

How long after leaving school did you start there?

Oh, be about two years.

So you left school at fourteen.

Yes. And then I went to work a t the Ranch at about sixteen, and then Fatherwas moved back t o Port P ine and tha t was the end o f everything because Imet Al len there then. We did go back to Whyalla when they started building avery b ig - l ike a - - I forget what i t is now - and they sent fo r Father t ocome, and he went back to Whyalla. I t was something to do w i th the - - Ican't th ink o f the name o f i t . A l len would know. But, anyhow, they sent fo rhim t o help w i th th is very huge machinery thing, and we stayed in Whyallathen fo r a while. And o f course then my - - I had met A l len in Port P inepreviously, and he fol lowed - used t o come over and back, he and anotherfriend - and h e chummed up w i t h m y g i r l f r iend, and they eventual ly go tmarried. So they used to come over to Whyalla in a car and do their courting,because there was no bitumen road and no buses then. There was just a bushtrack through the bush, and they used to hire a car fo r f ive pounds and drive


over t o Whyalla fo r the weekend and do their courting. So by the t ime I hadgot around t o going back t o P ine I was a bride, and Al len took me back toPine and we settled down there.

So did you not work for very long at the Men's Ranch?

No, not very long at all.

What sort of a building accommodated that?

Oh, i t was a very long corrugated iron building. I t was a l ike a great big diningroom extended - oh, very, very big, because the men were a l l on shi f t workand they used to come at al l odd hours for their meals.

What hours did you work?

I would work what they called the day shif t . I would go in about half past sixin t he morning for breakfast, and then we'd have a couple of hours o f f in theafternoon to go home and get changed - or spend our t ime as we wanted to -then be there fo r the evening meal. And then he - in the afternoon the manwho ran the Ranch - he would be cutt ing what they called cribs for the mento go on night shi f t . And they would come and have their evening meal, andthen they 'd go and go t o bed o r sleep, o r spend the i r t i m e however theywanted unt i l they had to go into work a t twelve o'clock, and come and picktheir crib up.

What was that - a crib?

Crib was sandwiches - or a cake and a piece of f ru i t . And they would f i l l the i rthermos or whatever they wanted to drink themselves from the big urns in thekitchen. But we girls didn't work af ter six o'clock.

How had you got the job?

Oh, i t was just word o f mouth I suppose. He said, 'Oh, I 'm short o f kitchenstaff . Do you know o f anyone tha t wants to come down and do i t? ' or some-thing l ike that . They never used to advertise. They used to just say, 'Oh, Bi l lJones, have you got a sister or a daughter, or do you know so and so?'. I t wasword o f mouth. So i t was my gir l f r iend that to ld me that they wanted some-body to work at the Ranch.

Before that, when you were looking after the grandchild of the hotel people, wereyou still living at home at that time?

No I was w i th m y sister a t tha t t ime because my parents had gone back toPort P ine and she was married and living there, in one of those l i t t l e houses Ishowed you just now. So she was l iv ing there. So I moved in wi th them unt i l


the kiddy got too old, you know - didn't want a nurse maid - and then I wentover t o P o r t P i n e t o Mother and Dad, and I s tar ted work a t t he Centra lHotel, and the Port Pine Hotel too, as a house maid.

Was i t suggested that you move with your parents to Port Pine straight away?Why did you stay behind with your sister?

I had this job you see. Ten shillings a week, i t was, which is a dollar a week. Ithought I was made. But, no, Mum said, 'Stay there where you are unti l some-thing turns up in Port Pine, and then we'l l send for you,' which I did, becausei t was only a matter of getting on the tug and going over. And that's how thatturned out.

While you were living with your sister, did she have any children herself?

Yes, she had that l i t t l e boy. He's wel l into his sixties now. But I used to lookafter h im and look a f te r th is l i t t l e grandchild o f the pub too, as a glori f iedbabysister.

What sort of people ran the pub?

Oh very nice. They were lovely people - Ogilvies the i r name was. And thef i rst chap tha t owned the hotel - i t was cal led the Je t t y Hotel , and was acorrugated iron place, wi th bedrooms scattered along. I think you can see i t inhere. [Fourth house and group of buildings le f t of doctor's house.] You can seethe roof - it's stretched right along that street - and they were spare bed-rooms. Very pr im and proper i t was. Very clean, and very wel l kept, and wehad a marvellous cook. She could get an old pair o f boots and stew them andmake them taste good. That was where I worked for a couple of years. Then Iwent over t o P ine and I worked at the Port P ine Hotel, and I worked at theCentral Ho te l , as a house maid. We were get t ing a dol lar t h i r t y - t h i r t yshillings we were getting.

How much did you earn at the Men's Ranch?

Oh, we used to get about two pounds there. Oh, that was good money. He wasvery understanding, the man that worked at the Ranch - or he ran i t . His wifehad l e f t h im w i t h a ten month old baby to bring up. He was a lovely fel low.They used to ca l l him a sissy, but he was a very nice man. And he's the manthat made my wedding bouquet. He was very handy w i th anything l ike that ,because he learnt to sew on the machine and make clothes for his l i t t l e boy,and he was,a really lovely fel low. But he's dead now, unfortunately.

So you were about sixteen when you went over to Port Pine.

Yes.


Where were your parents living there?

They were l iving in Port Pine too then.

Where were they living?

In Solomon Town - what they called Solomon Town - r ight opposite the GlobeHotel in Solomon Town.

Did you move in with them?

Yes, moved i n w i th them. The whole fami ly were there and we moved in -they had a great big house.

What sort of a house was it?

Wood and iron. And i t had a big lawn and that in the f ront and plenty of roomfor t h e kids, and a dog o f course - we always had a dog. But going t o thedances and tha t I me t A l len you see, and a f te r t ha t I lost interest in Por tPine. When Dad went back t o Whyalla t o do th is b ig job I went w i th h im,because at that t ime I had a chance to go into their hotel over there and workas a house maid, which I did.

That's the Jetty Hotel?

Yes, the Jet ty Hotel, and I worked there wi th Ogilvies, because I'd been withthem when the k id was l i t t l e . Then Dad was shifted back to Port Pine whenthe big job was finished and that was where he decided he'd sett le down andspend his l i fe . Because he'd shifted around so much and he was getting older.So he was s t i l l there when he died. Because fa ther died o f silicosis o f thelungs because he'd been underground so much. The f i rs t t ime he'd been i l l a l lhis l i fe and he lived a week.

Which of the hotels in Port Pine did you work at first?

I worked a t the Port P ine Hotel f i rs t , then I went up to the Central Hotel.They advertised in the paper.

Is that how you got the Port Pine Hotel job?

Yes, I got the Port P ine Hotel one. Worked for Mr Tregilgas - he was a greattrot t ing man, used to come down here with his horses.

I'd like to ask you what that work involved.

END OF TAPE 2 SIDE B: TA P E 3 SIDE A

Could you tell me, just briefly, about the sort of work that you did at the hotels?


Well, a t t h e hote l i t was mostly doing the bedrooms. Making the beds andchanging the linen and making sure that everything was in order fo r the nextguest t o come in. And then, just before the evening meal, you would have togo up and, what they called, slop the bedrooms. Perhaps somebody would haveused the bedroom utensil or something and you would have to go and emptythat before the evening meal. Bu t i t was a very good, clean job, and didn'tmind i t a t al l . I could cl imb the stairs then, I wouldn't be able to cl imb themnow. I did the same thing at the Central Hotel.

Why did you move from one job to the other?

Well, you see, you get t i red o f working fo r the same boss, o r perhaps some-body wou ld come along and he 'd say, 'Wel l , you haven't done so and soproperly,' and you'd lose your temper or something. Or, very often, he'd say,'Well, you're not suitable - move on,' or something l ike that. But you would go- - I n tha t job, you sort o f made friends, and you'd hear i f somebody's goingto move out o f such and such a hotel, and they're paying perhaps ten shillingsmore, and then you would go and apply f o r t h a t job, which I did, a t t heCentral Hotel, and I got that job at ten shillings more.

Did something i n particular happen to make you want to leave the Port P ineHotel?

No, wel l , I didn't l ike the boss. Because I used to have to clean the bar and hewas a man that couldn't keep his hands to himself. So I to ld my father and hesaid, 'Well , you're no t stopping there'. So i n the meantime I 'd heard o f th isCentral Hote l going, so I applied fo r that . But they didn't ask for referencesor anything in those days, which I would have said, you know, that we was a- - I d idn' t l i ke the way he was handling the gir ls. Well, I didn't l ike him,anyway. Nobody l i ked h im v e r y much. A n d he had a very lovely w i fe , sorather than k ick up a row and put on a turn, I just quietly gave her my noticeone evening and le f t . But I never ever to ld her why because I didn't think i twas fair to her.

You were saying that you met your husband-to-be at a dance in Port Pine.

Yes, that's r ight.

I know he's only in the other room, but could you tell me your husband's name?

Allen. Just Al len Starke - he has no second name.

What sort of dances did you go to?


Oh, we used to go to, what they called, Granny Johns' dance. You do every-thing - foxt rot , the Palais Glide, and the Fitzroys and the Alberts. [Coughingheard f rom the next room.] My word, he has got the asthma bad today. Andshe was a very elderly lady, and they used to have this old fashioned hall - theold chap bui l t i t himself - with a beautiful f loor, and she was a big, raw bonedwoman. She'd get up and play the piano but she was terr ibly st r ic t on whoeverentered her hall. You know very wel l , i f you went to her dance - - -. [break inrecording - mains power fai lure.]

You were telling me about Mrs Johns.

Oh yes. She was a good hearted soul, but he was a gentle l i t t l e man and hehad - over the doorway - he had the exit , candles in the exi t things. And themen used to come in, l i f t each other up, and they'd blow the candle out. Sopoor Mr Johns, he'd toddle into the hall carrying his ladder, c l imb laboriouslyup the steps and l ight the candle in the exit l ight again, cl imb down, carry theladder out, and he'd no sooner gone out and they'd do i t again. The law com-pelled you to have the exit l ight burning. The poor l i t t le old fel low. They usedto tease him - torment him - l ike that . But, anyhow, they f inal ly got t i red ofthe game and gave i t away.

You were saying when you went out to the toilets you'd have to go out with com-pany?

Oh yes. I f she saw you gett ing up and going out, she'd blow the whistle, andeverything would automatical ly stop and she'd make a show of you, you know- 'You're not going out there on your own,' she would say. 'You, and you, andyou - you go' - we'd a l l have to go whether we wanted to or not, and i t wasrather embarrassing. But you knew very we l l t ha t she wasn't going to t rustyou out there while so many men were at the dance hall. And i f anyone gaveher any cheek o r anything, she would p ick h im up and throw him along theverandah. Jus t p ick h im up and hur l h im bodi ly. She did t ha t t o A l len onenight and he was standing there not doing anything, quite innocent, and some-body gave her a b i t o f cheek and she must have thought i t was he was mixedup i n i t . The nex t th ing he knows, he's get t ing hurled along the verandah,skidding along on his face pract ical ly, and he hadn't done anything at al l . Butpeople used to go to her dance because they knew that, you know, everythingwas clear and above board. Except one night when they did steal a couple ofthe dear old fellow's ducks and raff led them, but they were kind enough to lethim win them back.


You were saying that you and your husband married when you were living back inWhyalla with your parents.

Yes.

You were working and the Jetty Hotel at that time, were you?

Yes, and I le f t there and I was married - f i f t y six years ago.

What was the date of your marriage?

New Year's Day. January the f i rs t 1930. And at that t ime the Company usedto give the men s ix weeks o f f and they had a chance to get away f rom theplace, or scatter round. Or, i f you didn't want to go anywhere, wel l you juststayed put. But my father had been to the two-up ring just recently - beforewe were marr ied - and he'd won about three hundred pounds i t was in thosedays. Mother was laying on the bed having a nap when he came home f romthis two-up r ing and he just scattered a l l th is money a l l over her, and shesaid, 'Oh, at last, I can die happy'.

But they spent qui te a lo t o f tha t money on my wedding and Father wasvery s t r i c t about the way people used to dr ink because he never drank thatmuch himself. He had the beer over a t the house and we had the reception inwhat they used to cal l the Tin Hal l . I t was a great big t i n - corrugated ironshed - bu i l t behind the Whyalla Hotel . The new Whyalla Hote l i t was then.And every now and then he'd say, 'The bar's open,' and he'd take them over tothe house and give them so many drinks, and then they could come back. Well,while they were waiting for a drink - Mother had about two ton of wood in theback yard, and i t wasn't ve ry f a r away f rom the hal l - but they'd go overthere, and whi le they were wai t ing f o r my Dad to dish them out a drink o fbeer, they go t on the axe and chopped the wood. So Mother said i t was thef i rs t t i m e i n her l i f e she'd ever had about two ton o f wood chopped up. Butthere was no drunkenness or anything because Dad would give them so much -'Now that is enough. Go back to the hall. We'll open the bar again later on' -And that was how he ran i t .

What sort of work was your husband doing when you knew him first of all?

Allen was working on the Por t P ine wharf then, and i t was very hard work,and I think his average wage was about three pounds a week.

Did you live a Port Pine when you first married?

Yes, f i rs t l ived at Port Pine - we had our house there.

Did you have a honeymoon?


No w e d idn ' t . Couldn' t a f f o r d one, because i t was t h e beginning o f t h erecession - you know, very bad time.

Tell me about your wedding photograph. [see copy on file]

Oh, tha t dress came from John Martins, and Mother had i t sent up for me. I twas down a t the back in a f ish t a i l and up the f ront - and each one of thesewas bounded by a satin ribbon, and I'm wearing my sister's wedding vei l - mysister Winifred's wedding ve i l . And oh, the dreadful way they used t o posepeople then f o r a wedding. B u t t h i s was taken s ix months a f t e r we weremarried because Whyalla had no photographer and didn' t have a minister,because Al len had to take the minister f rom Port P ine over to Whyalla wi thhim. And they had a wonderful weekend - i t was a New Year weekend - andthat was the f i rs t and only t ime I think Allen's ever won quite a lot of moneyon the races.

So was this photograph taken in Port Pine?

Yes, tha t one was taken in Port P ine six months - in June - six months af terwe were married.

I can see here George Rogers Studio.

Yes that's r ight. That studio's been gone many a long year, but he was a goodphotographer. B u t t h e way they used t o pose people. Usual ly you had anaspidistra in the background, but I object to that . He wanted to put one thereand I said, 'No, I'm not going to have that'.

You were saying that the chap who ran the Men's Ranch made your bouquet.

Yes, he made the bouquet out o f those, you know, those paper f lowers, l i keI've got over there.

Because you didn't have any growing.

No, there was no flowers a t a l l growing in Whyalla and you couldn't get themfrom anywhere because b y the t i m e they come over on the tug boat theywould've been nothing, so he made me th is bouquet. Looking a t i t now, i t 'salmost big enough to sink the Queen Mary, but I thought i t was beautiful.

Well I think we've covered some aspects o f your l i fe up until 1930 very wellindeed. Of course we could talk for many hours more about different things, butshall we leave it for now? It's a very hot day. And thank you very much.

Thank you for putt ing up with me.

state library of south australia j. d. somerville oral … · the interview session resulted in two...

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