Alstonville

Let me start from the beginning at Alstonville, where I was born on the 24th of November 1923 at St Leonard's Hospital. This was a private hospital operated by a midwife. In those days there were a lot of these types of hospitals about in the country towns where women went to have their babies. The Doctor in attendance was a Doctor Corliss who was the family doctor for many years. This same doctor later moved to Lismore where I next saw him when I was sixteen years old, with a great boil on my hip, I was as scared as all hell to get it out and I still have the scar to this day. More about that later.

At the time of my birth my Father, Eric was employed by Owen Cawley as a farmhand/ploughman. He ploughed six days a week with horses and a single furrow plough , ploughing all the land where "The House with No Steps" is situated nowadays south of Alstonville on the Wardell Road. All the land between the road and the complex was included so it was quite a substantial area and a long job with a single furrow plough.

My mother took me home to a small cottage on the property where they lived. In latter days of H.W.N.S., it was known as Cawley's Cottage and now is a craft shop. There was no ceiling in the kitchen and the rats used to peep over the top. They (Mum and Pop) said they were not game to leave me for the rats would carry me away, I was so skinny, long but only six pounds born.　

Reverend H. J. Buttrim, who had married my parents at Wollongbar, christened me at Alstonville in St. Bartholomew's Church, on the 8th of April 1924. He was Rector at Alstonville for donkey's years, I don't know how long. According to my Birth Certificate, my birth was not registered until 1931 and it was registered at Ballina.　

When I was about four months old the family (all three) moved to Sam Gibson's farm just up the Lismore road from the butter factory west of Alstonville. My parents were employed as a married couple. My father milked cows morning and night and worked on the farm at various tasks between milkings. My mum milked twice a day, it was all hands milking and she ran her own house during the day.　

We lived in a small cottage that is still there, the green roof is visible from the Bruxner highway. Eunice and Erica were just born during our period at Gibsons' so they did not milk cows once. As we only lived there for four years I don't remember much about it , what I do remember is fairly vague. When I was two and Eunice about six months, Pop took Mum us kids to the South Coast to Moruya, from where he had migrated some years earlier. It was the first and only time the whole family visited his parents, my grandparents (Margaret & Henry) on their home soil. Of course I have no recollections of that trip, we went by ship from Byron Bay to Sydney, then by rail and bus to Moruya. Mum was sick the whole way and Eunice no better. I was told I relished the whole thing, Pop and I were the only passengers to make it up on deck, and it was very rough.　

Some memories; my first visit to the pub, the old Pioneer Hotel, later stoked (burnt down), which was on top of the hill on the old road above the butter factory. It must have been a working bee or some such gathering as a mob of men were in the bar mucking about. A bloke had his arms around Pop's waist, I remember protesting, "You can't lift me." 　

There was a short cut to town that went down and crossed a creek at the back of the butter factory. Pop took me with him for a haircut, sitting on a cushion on the pommel of the saddle. I recollect crossing the creek. The Gibson's had two sons, Neil and Garth. Garth as I remember was about three years older than I was. We got covered in mud somewhere one day. In the process of washing it off I fell head over turkey into a cattle trough which caused a bit of excitement and mirth. Near that same trough was the scene of a narrow escape for me. One day at the afternoon milking the question was asked, "who will bring in the cow with the new calf?" I answered "I will". Nobody took much notice but I was fair dinkum, off I went armed with a big spanner, (stillson I was told later) to bring in the cow and calf. I must have belted the calf one; of course the placid old cow objected and horned me in the face, much claret (blood) and loud noises from me. My recollection is of everybody coming from the dairy with Mum out in front, she streaked the field. She said all she could see was blood. I was fortunate as the wound was just below my eye, missing it by less than half an inch.　

Another episode I remember is of Sam and Pop making a trip to the "dry paddock", which meant a trip by sulky up the road towards Lismore and a left hand turn at the Wollongbar school. Old Pos (our horse) was harnessed in the sulky. I reckoned I was going too. When I was sent to tell Mum that they were off to the dry run, the two men went on their way as soon as I was out of sight, but I didn't give up easy, I went back up to the big house to see that they had gone. Mum must have realised what was on cos when she caught up with me I was heading up the Lismore Road in the gutter running flat out, mouth wide open lots of tears and noise. I may have been four by this time, and my recollections of this episode are most vivid.　

Another occasion I was allowed to play with Garth, the Boss's son at the big house. Somehow we broke a heap of bottles on concrete outside the back door. His big brother Neil put on his father's gumboots and carried us out of the mess. I was sent home.

Then came the big move suggested to Pop by Sam, that Pop should make a move towards getting his own herd. He said,"You will never do much good here working on wages." The upshot was that Sam went guarantor for two hundred pounds adding to Pop's fifty pounds making sufficient to buy a small going concern. We moved to Tregeagle in 1928. I think it was the first of March.　

Here endeth the first chapter.　

Tregeagle　

So we moved to Tregeagle, I was getting older but my memory of happenings here are not so clear. The farm was seventy acres and the milking herd was of about thirty cows. There was a big Moreton bay fig tree at the back of the house which was home to a family of magpies when we arrived, they were fierce and attacked us kids every time we appeared outside. Pop borrowed a .410 gauge shot gun, called an orchard gun, from our neighbors named Price and dispatched the two birds. One he only broke the wing of and I had to finish the job with a stick, after chasing it several hundreds yards down the paddock.

One day Pop was in town when mum found a black snake under the house; it took refuge in the bottom of the wall. Girls were ordered into the cot, the copper was boiled and a weatherboard was pulled off the wall. With me posted as lookout on the front path, Mum proceed to pour buckets of boiling water onto the wall eventually it emerged, one boiled snake. Then with a bamboo rod she hooked it out and it met its doom. The whole exercise must have taken two hours or maybe more. Talk about a mother protecting her young, a natural instinct, no wonder the magpies got cranky.　

Pop eventually landed home with bags off chaff piled high on the spring cart. It was a dry season so he bought chaff and bran to feed the best milkers, nineteen in number. He didn't have stalls so he used bags like for horses. It made a big difference he told us in his stories later. The chaff was cheap, 5/0 (five shillings) a bag because it was the sweepings off the floor. Eggins was the owner of the shop, later a State and Federal politician, I was at high school later with his son called Max who was killed in the war at Tarakan.　

The house was set back from the road several hundred yards with a small cultivation paddock between the road and the house, I often went down there with Pop. I had a small hoe with which I would endeavour to cut weeds, thistle etc. One morning Eunice came with us, she must have got a bit close because I carved her down the forehead with the hoe. The hoe must have been very blunt for as I recall it did not cut her very much.

Another day quite early this huge three-engine aeroplane came flying in from Ballina direction and just over us it turned north and flew towards Brisbane. Pop said that might be Kingsford Smith arriving from America. Sure enough when the Northern Star newspaper arrived the next day he was proven correct. It was Saturday 9th June 1928 and I was four and a half years old. 　

Neighbours, I don't remember much about the neighbours, incidentally the landlord was Irvine. On the northern or Lismore side of the farm were the Hermans, fathers name was "Bertie". His main claim to fame was the Chevrolet motor car. He took us all to the beach at East Ballina. We all dressed up in our Sunday best, Pop in his navy blue suit, waistcoat, tie the works. The car got bogged on a black mud road along the banks of Duck creek. Pop got out to push and got sprayed with mud from arsehole to breakfast times (one of his favourite expressions).

Bert would pile the people in. Pop and me went to town with him one Friday night. Coming home pop had to stand on the running board, no room inside. The driver went to stop for some reason, Pop got off before the car stopped and crashed to the ground. It caused great concern.　

That might have been my first night at the pictures, silent, I explained to Mum that the goodies were chasing the baddies around the lantana bush. It was a cowboy story and Lantana was the only bush I knew. I only remember two boys; Stan was about my age and Ron a bit older. I think Stan and I started school the same day. I believe he never left the place and remained a bachelor. Ron died at the war with scrub typhus and was buried at Aitape. 　

Pryces were across the road just a litter closer to Lismore. A younger member of the family, Harmon I think, showed me their wireless radio, the first one I ever saw. There was a huge battery or some contraption on the side verandah that had to be cranked every day accordingly. Tom Pryce was tracking Auntie Eva; they got married when Mum was very pregnant with Jack! Very pregnant women didn't go out in those days so she didn't go to the wedding. Eva always called me Henry that did not go over very big and a long lasting dislike developed in our relationship.　

Over the back were people called Raisen of Raison, they were on another road, and the cricket pitch was on their farm. We went over one day for a married versus single match. Pop played but he wasn't much good at cricket, must be where I got my lack of talent for the game. That is all the neighbours I can recall. 　

Another time we went to Eltham to see our maternal grandparents, I think Bert Herman drove us again. Arthur Saul and Edith Hannah Lavina Saul with their family share-farmed for Arthur Walmsley at Eltham. Walmsley was a prominent citizen of Lismore who started Walmsley's Tyre Service. He acted as ringmaster at Lismore Show for untold years, always riding a tall white horse. This is the first time I can remember my grandparents. It wasn't long after this that they moved to Pineapple Road and worked for Skipper James.　

Another thing that happened at Tregeagle, I saw my first live Koala. Pop must have found him when he got up early to get the cows because he got us out of bed to see it. He used a tennis racquet to herd it along to a tree that it climbed, but it disappeared later in the day.　

I was six years old on the 24th November 1929, so January 1930 I was off to school. No kindergarten in those days - straight into first class. I could not tell the time at this stage, dumb kid. I was instructed to get dressed and get my own breakfast so that when the big hand was on six and the little hand on eight I took the brush and comb to the cow-yard where mum combed my hair and it was off to school. I wonder how I coped when I think of my grandson, Tim Caddey reading numberplates when he was a two-year-old. 　

Anyway it was over to Hermans and off to school with the boys. I don't know if there was any great trauma such as tears, slobber and spit.　

It was a one teacher school, his name was Len Johnson. He was the original pattern for Mr. Flogwell or Mr. Canehard of Ginger Meggs cartoon fame. He never had the cane out of his hand. I don't know whether I copped it, I only went for one month. 　

Sometime before we left Tregeagle I used to dream or have nightmares, they went on for a long time. Always the same, the bogeyman would be pouring buckets of milk in the top corner of the room with me in bed struggling to keep my head above the surface, I always woke up just when I was going under. Reminds me of other dreams on a different subject that I used to have later on in life in which I always woke up too soon!!　

The lease ran out after two years and Pop negotiated a new lease at Dunoon. I remember the auction sale; furniture, stock, everything went. I remember the auctioneer standing on the double bed making remarks that caused a great deal of laughter. I realised much later that the remarks were sexual connotations directed at my parents.

We moved to Dunoon on the first of March 1930.

　

Dunoon

　This move from Tregeagle to Dunoon brought many changes to our lifestyle. On the move I think I spent a night or two with my maternal grandparents who had moved from Eltham to Pineapple Road where they share-farmed for Skipper James on a big dairy which had in excess of one hundred cows to be milked. 　

When we got up to Dunoon brother Jack was only a young baby so Mum was not able to help so much with the work in the dairy and for some months a farmhand was employed. I can't recall his name but he was nineteen years old. In due course I went off to Dorroughby School where there were about seventy kids. Bruce Stanley Murdoch was the head teacher, a very good teacher who hardly ever used the cane. The kids were mostly Methodists, a great shock was when Miss Leahy, a catholic was appointed as assistant. She taught me for a while, the first lady teacher and the only one I can remember in primary school.

The surnames I can remember: Arthur's (droves of them), Chick, Tulk, Taylor, Simes, Leslie, Beacom, Robinson, Wright, McIntyre, (they were the only catholic family I think) Missingham, our neighbours, Knowles, Russell (sniffily nosed sod - I thumped him up once and I wasn't a fighter).

The school was about a mile across the paddock crossing creeks and gullies and skirting Missingham's bush. All the girls started school and eventually Jack did too before we left that area as we were there for seven years.

We used to cross a number of farms pinching old Bill Tulk's oranges on the way. His daughter used to chase us on her horse. She married Jim East - her neighbour, who had a bus run from Dorroughby to Lismore for about forty years, maybe more. In season we used to knock off the bush nuts (macadamias) from Robinsons. Their son, about thirteen would get us the next day and we, Bown and Missingham, would cop a belting down behind the lantana. Robinson also had a bush lemon tree that was the object of our attention on many occasions.　

Sometimes I would get involved in a game of cricket. All these extra curricular activities meant that we were often late home. This did not gain the approval of our parents on several occasions. A long suitable Paddy's lucerne ( type of weed ) pulled and prepared with great deliberation (they are very hard to get out of the ground!) was usually applied with great effect. (NB. Ian thinks this refers to Pop making a stick to whack Arthur with). One time I was real late, I sneaked around and came in by another route to the front of the house. I hid in a bedroom. In the end I had to come out. Ooly Dooly, the old man's greenhide belt was about two inches wide. He was out the back singing out "Arthuuuuuurrrr" when I came out, Mum just said "here he is bring your belt".　

In the summer time we would get out of school and on our track were three boys and lots of girls. Us fellers would go like mad, get way ahead, strip off and into the creek. We would see the girls come over the crest of the hill about one hundred and fifty yards away, then down into a hollow where we would get dressed then jump out and be ready to go on with them as we were all supposed to get home together. I had a fight or two, lost more than I won.　

Snakes were a hazard. red bellied black snakes were prolific. One day when the girls were small I killed two on the way to school and one on the way home. In the season I kept count and killed twenty-one during the spring and summer. Can't touch them now, how things have changed.　

These things are not necessarily in chronological order; I cannot remember the order in which they occurred!　
　Notes by Ian - Everything so far has been from A B's typed notes. I have rewritten them precisely as he had them typed. If you knew AB it has his own personal style and just the way he looked at things, the words he used - it's all AB. From here on it gets harder. I have had to work from AB's hand written notes which were not good at the time he got around to writing them. 　

It was a real Salt Bush Bill farm, with an assortment of wild horses. They used to wreck carts and sulkies. Pos got old and was finished off. Then came the horses Paddy, Dingo and Jib - who only lasted a week. The "old grey mare" now there was a horse, the rotten old sod.　

Paddy bolted from the factory and wrecked the sulky. When they caught up to him he had the collar up behind his ears, and the wreck of the sulky was out in front backing down the road towards home. Dingo could go like mad ridden or in the cart. He lasted until he put his head down, bucked and threw Pop, saddle and everything.　

Jib could be ridden but would not tighten the trous (leather straps known as traces) in the cart. Jib wanted to go backwards all the time. The old grey mare, she had spirit. You couldn't catch her. A rough, she could open gates and everytime we shifted she would go home. When she was finished off and sold she kept coming home. This was long after I left home. I think the boss gave up in the end.　

We went mechanical about 1935 or so. Pop bought a Ford A ute, bright red, second hand for 100 pounds. We were real big time then. All us kids in the back into town or off to the beach had some great times.　

One January we were off to town with a cat in a bag to drop up the top of Dunoon cutting. I said, "Can I put the cat out now Pop?" "In a minute", or something like that he replied. I didn't wait, I upended the bag and out it went at about 25 miles per hour. All four legs sprang out and away it went. I was in trouble for a while but the old bloke (Pop) couldn't wipe the grin off his face.　

In about September or October a mob of us were playing cricket in the front of the house, guess what we saw, the cat meow purr purring - just like it had never been away, 8 or 9 months later. Wessy Black said "it could not have had many lifts on the way back."　

While we lived at Dunoon, a parasite or paspalum called Ergot appeared - sticky stuff. It made a mess of our school clothes as our track was all over grown with Paspahalm. Out Pop went with his scythe and cut this tall grass back from the sides of the track to keep the mess off our clothes. I suppose it saved a lot of washing.　

There was a further worry with Ergot. An opinion was formed that it might have a possible detrimental effect on the health of the cattle. I think they just got used to it in the end and the worry went away.　

Another little story - years later when I was grown up and living in Forbes. I went home for quick lunch, with a fully loaded truck. I didn't get home much for lunch at that time of my life. Helen, my eldest daughter was home for lunch as well. She would have been about six or seven. She said "Dad it's starting to rain, will you drive me back to school?" I declined saying that she had a coat and could take the short cut and get to school quicker than I could drive her with the old Bedford truck. Discussion ensued. I stated that I went to school for seven years and never missed a day rain hail or shine. "I crossed the paddocks with thunder and lighting, over flooded creeks, through the bush with the Dingos howling," a good story, a bit coloured of course. Helen said "didn't your Dad ever drive you when it rained?" I replied that we didn't have a car. It was beyond her comprehension that people could live without a car. Then she said "what did you do if you were unable to walk?" "I RAN!!!!!!!!!!" So with a Humph shrug of the shoulders and head in the air off she went. Typical small girl reaction.

Back to my younger days, while we lived on the farm electricity came to Dunoon (the village) but not to our farm. It was a big occasion with numerous celebrations. We all got into the sulky with old Pos to go to the Church for the official turning on by the Bishop of Grafton. As we went down the street towards the Church around a bit of a bend Pos slipped and went down, it was a bitumen surface. The shoe on one of his back legs drove in behind his front leg and he was gashed badly just where the leg and shoulder was attached it his ribs. He was left at the church for the night and I think the Rector drove us home.
Notes by Ian - This unfortunately is all AB has given us of his own life story. Stay tuned for more later.

When Padre White dreamed up this concept for commemorating Anzac day he said it was appropriate that we start with a Dawn Parade as this was when the original day commenced. With the Sun about to dispel the darkness of night our troops stormed ashore at Gallipoli to conquer the Turks. The Sun was successful and the darkness fled.　

Our troops were not so successful. Against fierce opposition they gained a very tenuous foothold on the ridges and gullies of the land that was as fierce and hostile as its defenders. The Turks were not conquered and resisted with all possible effort, but could not dislodge the Anzacs.

Our troops could not win that battle but during the ensuing months they won a reputation as fighters of great courage and displayed individual and collective heroism. The whole area being disputed, it would have hardly been a decent sized sheep property on the Manaro, was subject to shot and shell, there was no dead ground on Gallipoli.　

Our army was a volunteer force coming from city and country from all walks of life. Death had no respect for rank, age or social standing in life. General Bridges at 54 a soldier all his adult life died just as surely as the 18-year-old private did in his very first action. Two new South Wales politicians died on Gallipoli, One a Sergeant on the first Day, a Sydney member. I can't recall his name he lasted about eight hours, being killed near the end of the first day. The second was named Brand, member for Armidale, a Colonel, who was killed in July.　

This army endured never ending hardships, they fought Turks, disease, lice, bad food and more Turks, and there was no end to it. They never lost their sense of humour; perhaps this sustained them to a large degree.　

General Birdwood had inspected forward areas and was summarising for his staff. He said I came to a very dangerous area when a Digger nearby said "Keep your head down Birdy". A very pucka British officer commented 'Dammed impertinent Colonials, what did you do Sir." Birdy replied "I kept my bloody head down." it was the Australian disregard for this rigid parade ground type discipline that made him different.　

When the powers that be decided time was up and called for evacuation discipline came to the fore. The strategy was flawed from the start, the eight months battle was lost but the evacuation was a complete success with virtually no casualties. 　

Our troops had earned and won a reputation and left with it unsullied. Here I resort to a bit of double Dutch. They had lost the battle but their spirit was unbroken. They were never defeated and the survivors lived to fight another day.　
Notes by Ian - The above passage of text was found in AB's typed notes. I can find no evidence of any hand written notes anywhere. Dad may have done this from his own thoughts. The dawn service and Padre White were very special to him; AB thought the Dawn service was the most important part of Anzac day. On a trip to Queensland in the early 90's Dad and Mum (Arthur and Nella Bown) visited Padre White's grave site, at Herberton, Far North Queensland.

About Padre White

In 1916 Father White, a priest-member of the Bush Brotherhood of Saint Boniface, sailed from Fremantle in a troopship bound for the Great War in Europe. He had been appointed an Army Chaplain to the first AIF (44 Infantry Battalion). Padre White, as his soldiers knew him, soon became one of the best-known and respected chaplains from Australia serving in France. He was always among "the first over the top" ministering to the wounded and dying amidst the great noise of battle. Behind the lines he was particularly noted for the beautiful little chapels he always managed to set up and where he was prepared to celebrate the Holy Eucharist, hear a confession or counsel a solider at any hour.

Behind the lines he wore as often as possible a simple linen travelling chasuble over his cassock and in the front line he could only wear a stole around his neck over his uniform. However trying the conditions, his manner of celebrating the Holy Eucharist was always the same, with great reverence and all his priestly actions perfect no matter what was happening around him.　

In 1929, after serving in the Dioceses of Melbourne and Riverina, Father White was appointed the Rector of Albany, a place he dearly loved and had visited for the first time in 1912. Soon after his induction in his parish church, St John's, he announced his intention it say a Requiem for the War Dead at 6 o'clock in the morning on Anzac Day, April 25th 1929. Directly after the Requiem, he, the choir and congregation moved in procession to the War Memorial for a simple wreath laying service. In the following years it was the Padre's custom to lead a Pilgrimage to the summit of Mount Clarence where, after a silence, he said aloud, "as the sun rises and Goeth down, we will remember them." At the same time a boatman cast a wreath into the King George Sound. Thus began the Dawn Service tradition that has spread to many parts of the British Commonwealth.　

Father White left Albany in 1938 to become Rector of Forbes in New South Wales. He retired in 1954 to become convent chaplain to the Anglican Sisters of the Sacred Advent in Herberton, Queensland. He died shortly after and was buried in the local cemetery. At his request, his grave simply identified with a white cross with the words "A PRIEST". In the Forbes Services Club is the prize possession, which the club keeps in a special cabinet. It is the Chalice used by Padre White. When he left Forbes he donated it to the club for safekeeping.