Chapter 6.1 – The Soap and Candle Factory

In 1863 Charles O’Connor 1, my great-grandfather (b. 1827), at the age of 36 years joined the exodus from Ireland. He left Dublin and sailed to Australia on the ship ‘Pestonjee Bomanjee’ to Melbourne and from thence to Kadina where with his wife Mary (Mone) O’Connor (Piggot), he began his Australian adventure.

His occupation was listed on the ship’s manifest as a soap maker and it is not surprising, therefore, that two of his sons, Charles O’Connor 2 (my grandfather) and brother Arthur O’Connor, who had just returned from the Boer War, decided to become ice, soap and candle makers. They figured that with all the activity in mines that was going on there would be a great need for soap and candles.

Their business thrived but eventually the two brothers decided to realize on their assets and sold out to a company called Burford’s. After the sale, the two brothers found themselves quite wealthy, but they proved to be better at running their business than they were at investing the money from its sale. Arthur was entrusted with investing the money and consequently became involved in certain business ventures with a Mr Charles Lilley. A series of bad business decisions followed, resulting in the loss of the majority of the money. The two brothers divided the remainder of the money between them and went their separate ways, but from that time on Charles 2 and brother Arthur were estranged and never spoke to each other again.In 1910 Charles O’Connor 2 moved to Pinnaroo and his brother Arthur O’Connor moved to Kimba where he remained until he died 10th August 1947.

When Charles O’Connor 2 and his wife Emily-Jane O’Connor (Chatfield) moved to Pinnaroo in1910 their family included my father, Maynard O’Connor, who was only 12 months old at that time. Charles O’Connor 2 purchased a section of the Hundred of Pinnaroo, on the edge of the 90 mile desert which lies between Pinnaroo and Bordertown and about 11 miles south west out of Pinnaroo. He first had to clear the land before he could begin farming, but then a severe drought throughout the region resulted in the failure of his farming venture. After only two years on the land his land holding proved to be pretty well worthless. Charles 2 was forced to move into the Pinnaroo township to find employment and from that time on his skills and physical labor were his only assets. The need to find work and an income resulted in all the members of the O’Connor family being forced to find employment wherever they could. Other members of the O’Connor clan moved to live in places such as Wallaroo, Kadina or Moonta, but most of them went to Wallaroo. My great-grandmother Mary (Mone) O’Connor (Piggot) went to Perth, WA to live, and was there until her death in 1928. These were hard times for Charles O’Connor 2 and Emily-Jane O’Connor (Chatfield)  and family.

From the word-of-mouth stories about these times it appears that my grandfather Charles 2 had a “hell of a life’ in Pinnaroo. The money all gone, Charles 2 had nothing! In January 1916 his fortunes worsened when he fell off a windmill at Wirriga and drove his leg into the ground and was permanently lame. His wife, Emily-Jane became the main bread-winner in the family doing whatever work came to hand. This was the background to my father Maynard’s early years. His life began with hard labor as he struggled to help support firstly, his parents and their family in Pinnaroo and then after his marriage, his own family in Adelaide. Charles O’Connor 2 spent the last two years of his life cared for by my father and mother at their home at Glen Osmond Road Parkside. My grandfather, Charles  O’Connor 2 died in 1961.

In 1934 My father Maynard married Jean Williams also from Pinnaroo. (Mum died in 1992 aged 77 years and Dad died in 1995 aged 86 years.)

My knowledge of Mum and Dad’s early years in Pinnaroo and then in Adelaide was always sketchy and so to gain a better insight into their lives I am going back in time to the 11th Mar 1982 to visit my Mum and Dad in their home just ‘across the paddock’ at 25 Davis Street, West Beach. 1982 is the year my dad wrote a brief history of his life. It was the year that Dad turned 73 years of age, and Mum 68 years of age. I was 42 years old, my daughter Deb was 21, Judith 19, James 17, Helen 15 and Jesia 9 years old. Our family friends, the Brinkerhoff’s from America had moved back to America 5 years earlier, leaving a very big hole in our lives.

To visit my Mum and Dad, I walk across the paddock from our house to their house, at 25 Davis Street, West Beach. As I get closer I can hear the sound of Dad playing the old pianola. He is playing a boisterous Irish jig. How Dad loves the old songs and gets so much enjoyment from them. Mum likes them too, but not as much as Dad. When Forest and Maryanne Brinkerhoff came to Australia from America our two families became very close friends and had many wonderful times together. When Forest’s ‘gypsy’ blood asserted itself in 1977 they moved back to America and our family missed them very much. When they were still living in Australia we all used to love to dance the Irish jigs right here on Dad and Mum’s front lawn to the music Dad is playing right now.

I walk up to the front door and knock. Dad opened the door and greets me with his broad beaming smile and kisses me as I go inside. My Dad is noted for his cheery smile and suntanned ‘fisherman’s’ face. I go into the kitchen where Mum is preparing lunch, which will most likely be fish and tomato and onion salad, served with a freshly chopped cos lettuce.

My Dad’s Story.

“Want a cup of tea, dear?” asks my dear Mum.

“Yes, please Mum.”

“Have you had dinner?” Dad asks.

“No I haven’t, Dad, but if you are offering….?”

“Would you like to have some fish?”

“Yes, I would, thanks Dad, but only if you are cooking it.”

Mum laughed, “Do you think I would be cooking the fish while your father’s around?”

I laughed. “No Mum, I certainly wouldn’t.” I exclaimed. Dad was the fish cook in the family. He liked to catch the fish himself, scale them and fillet them and cook them in his own special way, either grilled or battered. No-one can cook fish like my Dad! One of his amazing inventions (and there were many) was a fish-scaler operated by water pressure only so he never had to touch the fish as he scaled them. When there were fish to be cooked Dad did the cooking!

“So what brings you here today, been up to anything interesting?” Dad asked.

“Not particularly, but I do have a reason for coming to see you today. I know you have just finished writing your history and I want to hear about it first hand, and ask you some questions. I have just realized that I only know the ‘bare bones’ of your life and I would like to know more.” I said.

“Goodness, you were never interested in hearing about my life when I wanted to talk to you about it,” Dad exclaimed.

“Yes, I know, Dad, but it has occurred to me that by the time I may be ready to hear your story it might be too late.”

“You think I might have ‘kicked the bucket,’ hey? Well, you are ‘dead’ right,” Dad laughed, smiling at his own joke. He flipped the fish he was cooking and and lightly fried the other side then served the delicious looking whiting fillets onto three plates. Mum added some of her special tomato and onion salad and some finely chopped lettuce. We sat down to eat at the small kitchen table overlooking the trees in the back garden. We ate in a companionable silence and when we had finished our meal we went into the lounge room and Dad sat at his desk while I sat in a lounge chair nearby. Mum set up her ironing board and began to iron Dad’s shirts. I looked around the lounge room and remembered when Dad and Mum first moved here from the old family home at Parkside to be nearer to Jeff and I and their grandchildren. “They have always been there for me,” I thought, “living ‘just across the paddock.’ ” The children have been able to visit Grandma on their way home from school and she has always been there to greet them with a glass of milk and some home-baked biscuits or cake. There is no doubt about it, my Mum and Dad have been the best parents and grandparents a daughter could hope to have.

“So where do you want me to start with my story?” Dad asked.

“At the beginning, of course, where else?” I replied.

“Well,” said Dad, looking off into the distance with a faraway look on his face, “I was born at Kadina, South Australia on 14th February, 1909, on Valentine’s day. My father, Charles O’Connor 2, was born on 26th June 1873 and my mother Emily-Jane O’Connor (Chatfield) was born 20th Oct 1876. Mum and Dad were married at Wallaroo on 31st March 1898. They had 10 children: Dorothy, Gertrude, Florence, Louise, Constance, Mary, Charles, Arthur and me, Maynard, Cecil Keith, John Douglas and twin girls that were stillborn. The only boys ones still alive at present are myself, Cecil Keith O’Connor of Camp Hill Brisbane and John Douglas O’Connor of Gawler, SA.”

“What about the girls, are they still alive?”

“Dorothy became Mrs R Hood. She is now widowed and lives in Elizabeth. Florrie was married twice and her first husband was Henry Obst who was a railway employee and was killed in a shunting accident at Tailem bend in the early 1930’s. She later married again and became Mrs. J Gordon, but she and her second husband are now both dead. Connie married and became Mrs H. Simons and Connie is a widow now and lives at Naracoorte. Charles and Arthur are both dead. Charles died at the age of 33 years and Arthur died in an accident when he was just 12 years old.”

“What happened to Arthur, Dad?”

“Arthur used to get work with one of the local blacksmith shops in Pinnaroo during his Xmas holidays. It would have been about 1918, if I remember right. In those days petrol was available in the country only in 4-gallon tins. The tins were about 10″ square by about 14″ high. Mr Sharrad, one of the owners of the shop, kept the tins of petrol in a 200-gallon steel tank, which was buried in the ground with about 6” of the tank above ground level. In those days Saturday was pay day and one Saturday Mr Sharrad said to Arthur: “When I come back from the bank we will clean out the petrol tank and take stock.” Arthur, being young and keen, thought he would please his boss by starting the job straight away. The tank had a manhole in the top and he climbed down inside. Unfortunately, the tank was full of fumes from some of the tins that had leaked and Arthur became overcome by the fumes and was unable to climb out. By the time Mr Sharrad returned it was too late to save him. He was already dead from asphyxiation.”

“That’s awful Dad, how did your parents cope?”

“It was pretty bad for them as it was for all of us. Life was hard for our family at the best of times,” Dad sighed, remembering.

“What was your mother’s maiden name, Dad?”

“Her maiden name was Chatfield; her father was George Chatfield and he was a butcher in Wallaroo and also for a number of years was Mayor of Wallaroo.”

“Really? Were they well off?

“Yes, they were and my mother, Emily-Jane Chatfield was a well-brought up young lady.”

“I remember your Mum as being a very stern lady who always seemed to be wearing a pinafore, but I’ve seen a photo of her sister and she looked really ladylike. It is amongst my photos somewhere in my box of photos.”

“Yes, she was very lady-like, they both were.”

“So what happened then, Dad?”

“Up until about 1907 and before I was born, my father and his brother Arthur were the owners of a soap and candle factory in Kadina. The candles were used by the miners underground in the copper mines at Moonta and Wallaroo. The business did very well but eventually they sold out to Burford’s, but they turned out not to be very good at managing the proceeds of the sale so it wasn’t too long before their money was used up and then the hard times came for Dad. Dad took up land at Pinnaroo in an area that had been touted as the “Land of Promise,” when it was first opened up for settlement in about 1905. Unfortunately the selection of land that Dad received was on the edge of “the 90 mile desert” and it turned out to be anything but a profitable venture, and certainly not the “Land of Promise” that he was expecting!”

“Where about was the land exactly?” I asked wanting to make a mental picture of the location of the farm.

“The 90 mile desert is a stretch of country that lies between Pinnaroo and Bordertown and at that time it was indeed a desert. Today with the use of trace elements and modern farming machinery and methods. that area has developed productively, but certainly was not productive in those days.”

“So what did your family do then?”

“After about two years it was apparent that Dad’s farming venture was not going to work out and when the remainder of Dad’s money was gone our family was forced to move into the Pinnaroo township. Those who were old enough to work had to find work where it was available. Fortunately, Dad was a very versatile man and could turn his hand to several trades.

“He must have been like you, Dad?” My Dad was the most versatile of any man that I knew. He could do anything that he put his hand to. He was such a consistent hard worker that his work was valued by all those he ever worked for.

“What sort of work did he do, Dad?”

“He could repair boots, do carpentry, even build a house. Most houses in those days were of timber and iron. He was also an expert at repairing and making harness for horses or bullocks. There were no tractors at that time but there were many horses and so my father was kept reasonably busy in that field of work. At one stage he established an ice making plant for one of the hotels in the town. He could turn his hand to road making and he also knew how to handle explosives in the local quarries having had the experience of seeing explosives used in the mines.”

“How old were you before you had to help your dad with his work?”

“I started to help dad from a very young age. I remember when I was about 5 years old and not yet at school Dad got the contract to build a piece of road in front of the Pinnaroo school. The local limestone had to be carted from the quarry to the site by horse and dray. I went with him and he used to let me sit on the dray and drive the horse while he walked alongside. The reins were made of rope which was the kind which was used quite a lot in those days as a clothesline. It was a cotton rope about 1/4″ in diameter. Unfortunately for me there were bolts through the felloes (rings) of the wheels of the dray and being only 5 years at that time my arms would get tired and I would let the reins droop and if they got caught on the bolts the rope would be pulled through my hands as the wheel turned and burn my hands. I would scream with the pain. The experience is still as real and vivid in my mind even after all these years. I can still hear myself scream. It is amazing how certain things remain so clearly in your memory.”

“I guess people had to be pretty well self-sufficient in those days?” I mused.

“They did. Dad also became an expert at repairing windmills and bores. The windmills were used for pumping water from the artesian bores. There is an abundance of good water in the area at depths ranging from 180 to 600 feet.

“Didn’t your dad fall from a windmill, Dad?”

“Yes, he did. It was about two years after my brother Arthur died. I guess I would have been 10 years of age at the time. I think it was in 1914. Dad was working on a windmill on a platform about 30 feet above the ground. He had an epileptic fit and he slipped and fell to the ground. He sustained a compound fracture of his right thigh and had to spend 11 months recovering in the Adelaide Hospital.”

“How awful! How bad was his leg?”

“When he fell his leg was broken and the force of his fall embedded the bone right into the ground. Fortunately there was a man there who had just returned from World War I who had some bandages that he had brought home with him. He bandaged Dad’s leg and they took him into Pinnaroo. He had to wait until next morning to be put on the train to Adelaide so he could be admitted to the Adelaide Hospital.”

“The pain must have been agonizing?”

“It was, and the journey to Adelaide was a dreadful ordeal for him as well.”

“What did your Mum do, did she go with him?”

“Yes, she did, but what made it even harder was that it was a “mixed” train. A mixed train carries freight as well as passengers. This meant that the train stopped at every siding on the way to pick up freight. The journey started at 8 am and the train didn’t arrive in Adelaide until 8 pm in the evening.”

“That would have been dreadful!” I exclaimed.

“It was. During the journey Dad lay on a camp stretcher in the guard’s van, and my mother, had to sit on a box beside him. By the time they got him into the Adelaide Hospital his leg was badly infected and after that gangrene set in.”

“Don’t they have to amputate a leg if it becomes gangrenous?”

“They usually do, but in dad’s case they managed to save his leg but when he did return home after 11 months in hospital his right leg was 4″ shorter than his left and the knee would not bend at all. He remained an invalid in bed for a long time and when he had recovered enough to get out of bed he remained permanently crippled, with one leg shorter than the other and unable to bend his knew. He walked with a stick and a built up boot and his leg remained completely rigid and unbending.”

“Yes I remember. I remember when he lived with us on Glen Osmond Road for the last two years of his life. It must have been very hard on Grandma, Dad?”

“It would have been a real trial, but I was only a kid at the time and never really understood what it would have been like for Mum. I do remember complaining to Dad that he had not written me a letter while he was in hospital. I was about 6 1/2 years old at this time. Dad said, “All right Maynard, I’ll write you a letter and he did. In the letter he wrote: “It was very sad about your poor old uncle Dan dying. You know, if he had lived until tomorrow he would have been dead a fortnight.” ” Dad had a good sense of humor in spite of all his troubles.

“Children had to start work so young in those days didn’t they?”

“Yes, schooling always took second place to the needs of the family.”

“What schooling did you have, Dad?”

“My schooling was pretty limited really and if I ever regretted anything it was that I didn’t get a proper schooling. My father, after his accident, had to take whatever means he could in order to try and earn a living. There was no worker’s compensation or unemployment relief; no annual leave or paid public holidays. These things did not come in until after 1945 at the end of World War II. For the last three years of my school life, Dad was a wheat agent buying wheat for William Charlick and various other firms at Panitya, which was just over the border in Victoria and was five miles from Pinnaroo. We would drive out in the horse and cart six days a week. We would work all day and then drive home again at the end of the day. Because of his disability, Dad got permission for me to be absent from school for the first six weeks of each school year so that I could help him.”

“It seems that your father being a cripple didn’t stop him from working?” I commented.

“No it didn’t. He became pretty agile even with his stick and stiff shorter leg. Dad would do whatever work was available and I was given the job of walking the horse for the “Whip.” In those days the wheat was harvested into bags. Each bag held 3 bushels of wheat. A bushel was 60 lbs so that an average bag weighed 180 lbs. The wheat “Lumpers” used to carry the bags of wheat on their shoulders and make them into stacks. When they reached a certain height they would then use a plank to build up to a higher level. When the Lumpers could not go any higher by means of the plank, that’s when they would use “The Whip.” The Whip comprised a wooden pole, 30ft long and about 5″ square made of Oregon timber. This would be placed up beside the wheat stack. There was a pulley at the bottom and a rope went up and through this pulley to the one at the top. On the end of the rope was a loop of chain which was then put around the top of the bag of wheat on the wagon. The other end was attached to the harness of the horse which was used to pull the bag of wheat up to the wheat Lumpers on the top of the stack. It was my job to lead the horse. The farmer would put the bag on and then I would lead the horse forward and the bag would be taken up to the top. The Lumper would take the chain off the bag and then I would have to back the horse so that the chain would come down again and another bag could be put on. This would go on all day as we unloaded one farmer’s wagon after another. Of course it would be in the heat of summer amidst the dust and the flies. At first the distance would be about 45 ft that I would have to take the horse backwards and forwards but that would gradually increase as the stack grew higher until when the stack reached its full height of 30 ft the distance would be about 70 ft.

“School had to take second place to any job that Dad could get that would keep our family going. Another job that fell to my lot was to have to drive the school inspector out to the various small schools in the area. Dad would have to tender for the job. The schools we used to go to were, Rosy Pine in the south, Chandos in the west and Yarraville in the north. On those days I would sit in my grade in whatever school we were visiting. Transport on these occasions was by horse and “masher” dray. A masher dray was a light vehicle with two high wheels. This job put me under a further handicap because as a result of missing the first weeks of a new grade I was never able to catch up to the rest of the class. I remember one year we had a new teacher who used to use a whistle to give his orders for each movement of drill which was conducted before we went into our classes. He used to give a certain number of blasts on the whistle and all the other kids knew what to do but I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I was all at sea! When he blew the whistle I wouldn’t know whether I had to halt, turn right or left, mark time or quick march. In spite of all these handicaps I did like going to school and was very sorry when I had to leave to go to work before I had finished grade 7. I missed getting my Qualifying Certificate but ultimately it didn’t seem to matter because I always seemed to be able to get work.”

“That is because you are such an extraordinarily hard worker, Dad. There isn’t a better worker in existence than you, Dad, that’s for sure.”

“I did have to work hard, all my life, but luckily for me I genuinely liked most of the work that I had to do.”

“What was the school like, Dad?

“The school was a brick building which is still standing at Pinnaroo. It had two rooms. There were gum trees in the yard, all round the perimeter. We used to plant the trees on Arbor Day which was in April, I think. The school planted all the trees that are in the main street of Pinnaroo on Arbor day as well. The schoolmaster was Mr. D.L. Harfield. There were probably a hundred or so kids at the school and there were two or three teachers.

“What are some of the things you did at school?”

“Well, in wet weather we used to sit in the shed which was an enclosed veranda on one side of the school and play “heave Ho.” We would sit on the forms that lined the walls and all push one way so that the one sitting on the end would get squashed against the end wall and have to get out or get hurt. All the time this was going on we would all be yelling “Heave Ho.” The din was incredible. We used to get into trouble for very little thing. in those days. I remember one day when it was raining I stuck my head out the door with my mouth open catching the rain in my mouth. I got caught by the headmaster and that little escapade cost me six of the best with his cane. All of us knew the feel of that cane, some of us on a daily basis!”

“What other games did you play, Dad?”

“Another game we played when the weather was cold was “Red Rover all Over.” Half the school would line up each end of the playground. There would be a line drawn in the middle of the yard and a number of children would stand on that line and the others had to try and run from one end to the other without getting caught. If you got caught you had to join those on the centre line. It was a very healthy and warming exercise.”

“We played that when I was at school,” I remarked. “Did you play games like football?”

“Yes, we did, but I was nearly always the umpire. When my decisions were disputed I would sometimes get frustrated and would pull out of the job and join the players. The umpire’s position was always hard to fill and that’s why I got it so often. I remember there was a family of boys named Edwards who were very popular because they always had beautiful lunches and were willing to share their lunch with the other kids. My lunch was usually bread and jam; theirs would be beautiful cakes and the like. Well this Ken Edwards, if I refused to umpire a game, he would bribe me to continue as umpire by giving me some of his lunch. I think I must have been fairly honest about it because I can’t remember ever taking advantage of him.”

“What about at night, was there any entertainment available at night time?”

“In the days of the silent pictures, there were pictures every Saturday night. The Charlie Chaplin ones were our favorites. I can remember one sequence in particular which showed Charlie in bed asleep with his mouth wide open as he snored. It showed a big black spider that appeared to be crawling over his face and as he opened his mouth with each snore we all expected the spider to go into his mouth. Being silent pictures all you could hear was the screams of the audience as they watched in horror. I can remember the Harold Lloyd pictures too. He was noted for his horn-rimmed spectacles. Harold Lloyd was the man that first introduced horn-rimmed spectacles to the world. For a long time afterwards horn-rimmed spectacles were referred to as “Harold Lloyd’s.” ”

“What world events were happening at this time?”

“1914 was the year World War I commenced and it continued until 1918. In 1915 I was still at school, and it was in this year that Sir Ross and Sir Keith Smith made their epic flight from England to Australia. This was the first time such a flight had been attempted. Our teachers understood that they would fly over Pinnaroo en route from Melbourne to Adelaide, because Adelaide was their home town. All the Pinnaroo school children were taken out to the adjacent park lands to see them fly over. After spending most of the day waiting, word was finally received that they had safely landed in Adelaide and that they had passed over Bordertown, 80 miles to the south and not over Pinnaroo. We were all very disappointed.”

“I remember you told me that Wirth’s circus used to come to your town?”

“Yes, it did. Every second year Wirth’s Circus would come through from Victoria by special train to Pinnaroo. It would have to be changed to SA Railways at Pinnaroo so they always put on a show here. On one occasion I remember they doubled the admission price from what it had been the previous time to 5/- for adults. There was a Mr Dick McKenzie who later became a member of parliament representing Labor for the Murray Mallee District. He got himself a box and stood up on it and addressed the crowd, urging them not to pay the higher price that was being asked for admission. After some time he eventually won the day and Wirth’s Circus reduced the price and so the show went on and tickets were the same price as they were the year before.”

“You told me there were some epidemics that hit the town, what was that about?”

“We did have a couple of epidemics. In 1919 when I was about 10 years old the Spanish Influenza epidemic swept Australia. It was probably brought into the country by the soldiers returning from WWI. It was particularly bad in Melbourne and special trains were run to bring evacuees to SA via Pinnaroo. Then there was the mice plague. That was really something! Pinnaroo and most of the rest of the State was overrun by millions of mice. I have vivid memories of the mice and the havoc that they caused, as well as the disease caused among humans, particularly at school. Children would break out in sores and would have to be quarantined until the infection had gone. One way of trying to destroy the mice was to bury kerosine tins in holes which were dug all around the wheat stacks. The tins were put in holes in the ground so their tops were level with the ground and then half filled with water. Next morning there would be hundreds of tins filled with drowned mice. Even such destruction would only have a minimal effect on the mice population so great were their numbers. The wheat stacks, which were 30-ft high and containing thousands of bags, would eventually finish up just a vast heap of loose wheat and ruined bags on the ground because the mice had eaten through the wheat bags. The wheat would slowly run out and the whole stack would collapse. The stench was terrible.

“Did you have a close relationship with your mother?

“No, not really. It wasn’t Mum’s fault, it was just the times and the poverty. Mum was completely occupied in everything she had to do to keep the family going. I remember somewhere during my school years as I was maturing I asked my mother the personal questions a kid might want to ask his mum, but all Mum said was, “Little boys don’t talk about those things.” So I grew up pretty ignorant of the “facts of life” so that even when I got married, such was the taboo about talking about such things that I knew very little. My lack of knowledge had its consequence with adverse effects on my marriage, not the least of them being that our three boys arrived in pretty short order in the first few years after Mum and I were married because neither of us had any idea about contraception.”

“You must have gained some enlightenment after Graham, because there were three years between his birth and mine.”

“That’s right and it was such a relief to have a break. When you came there was only rejoicing because you were the daughter Mum had always wanted.”

“How old were you when you left school Dad.”

“I left school at 14 in 1923. My birthday was in February and I left school in May the same year when I had reached grade 7. At the end of grade 7 if you passed you received what was called the Qualifying certificate and from there, the next step was High School. So I only had 3 months in grade 7 and then I had to leave school and go to work. Also as I have related, I missed the first six weeks of the school year for the previous two or three years, consequently my formal education was not very extensive. I cannot recall a great many incidents from my school days but one thing I do remember about that time is that we were very poor and our bed clothes comprised one gray blanket and the rest were made up of wheat bags sewn together.

“What were some of the jobs you had, Dad?”

“At one stage my father bought a winnower and took up contract cleaning wheat. The wheat was first harvested by a machine called a stripper. This was in the days before harvesters were invented. A stripper was a machine which just took the heads off the crop. When it was filled, the wheat was then emptied out in a big heap on the ground and was afterwards put through the winnower which threshed the wheat heads separating the wheat from the chaff. Each day when we went out to start work if there had been a change in the wind overnight we would have to move the winnower to a different position so that the wind would blow the chaff away from the workers. The method of finding which way the wind was blowing was to throw a handful of dirt up into the air and then the machine would be moved to the appropriate position. Sometimes there would not be a breath of wind blowing and so the dust would fall straight to the ground again. On these occasions someone would say, “The wind is straight up and down today so we won’t have to move.” The first winnower Dad bought was a horse-treadle model. The power to drive the machine was supplied by a horse. On the side of the winnower there was a kind of elevator set at about 30-degrees to the ground. This was the treadle. It had heavy wooden steps made of jarrah timber. It was like a cattle chute. The horse was led into the chute and a gate was closed behind it. The treads were then released and the weight of the horse would set the treads in motion, thus driving the winnowing machine. As the horse came back with the motion of the treads it would drive the winnowing machine. The motion would bring the horse up against the gate and it would be forced to start walking up the steps. It would only take a short time for him to get used to the motion and he would work away there and so the work of cleaning the wheat would go on. We later graduated to a winnower which was driven by a petrol engine. There was a machine called a stripper which had a comb ranging from 6ft to 10 ft wide. The comb was the part that went through the crop lifting the heads of the wheat so that they were fed into the beaters. The beaters were somewhat like the cutter on a reel lawn mower. The beaters knocked the heads off the crop and threw them into the back of the stripper which was a bin which held the heads until it was filled. There was a lift-up door at the rear which was opened and the wheat was raked out into a heap to be put through the winnower in due course. We were out cleaning wheat one day when there was a thunderstorm with lightning and rain. We all got in a stripper out of the rain. There was a chap with us who we used to call “German Charlie” and that was the only name he was known by in Pinnaroo. He was one of the last of the bullock team drivers of the district. While the lightning was on he would not get in the stripper but went and lay on his stomach on the ground in the rain. He wouldn’t shelter in the stripper because of the possibility of being struck by lightning.”

“I remember you telling me about German Charlie. Next time I come I would like to hear more about him, but not right now. Keep on with your story. What other jobs did you have when you left school, Dad?”

“When I left school I got a job in one of the local blacksmith shops. There were two in the town. The one I went into was owned by Westphalin Brothers, run by two brothers, Ern and Emmil. I worked there for 6 months at 15 shillings a week of 48 hours. It was hard work but it was work that I loved. At the end of six months my mother told me to ask for a rise in pay. I did, but my request was refused. I then applied for a job with a Mr Tom Gilbert who was a builder. I was successful and was put on at 30 shillings a week, just double what I had been getting. I was put on as mate to a man who was described as a plumber. In those days a plumber did roofing, gutters and made tanks etc. The plumber’s name was Dan Fletcher, and he was a real wag. One day we were working on the roof of the Commercial Hotel which, by the way, my Dad helped to build before his accident. He carted all the local stone which was used in the building. He also helped with the building of the hotel which was two stories high. The same building is still used but today it is a hotel and the building has been added to over the intervening years. The cook at the hotel was named Mrs McDonald. She was a rather stout woman and was not particularly noted for cleanliness. When we were up on the roof she walked out into the hotel yard and Dan said, “There she goes, she is so greasy that your eyes slide off her.

“Another job we had was the building of the new Commercial Bank. It was a brick building and when finished I had the unenviable task of scrubbing all the outside walls with spirits of salts and water. The job with the builder lasted six months. The job I really wanted was to be a blacksmith. So after the six months with the builder I applied for work at the other blacksmith shop in the town. To my great satisfaction I was successful again. This shop was owned by Messrs Koch and Sharrad. This job lasted for the next 3 1/2 years and I think the time I spent there was the happiest of my working life. The work was varied because there were so many different types of very skilled work done. It was a blacksmith and wheelwright shop. As well as doing all sorts of jobbing repair work on all types of farm machinery and vehicles, we made new drays, buggies, sulkies and wagons (with sides and tabletops). Also Mr Sharrad was the local undertaker and when the occasion arose I helped in the wheelwright shop where the coffins were made. It was during these years that wireless or radio was first introduced in Australia. A Mr Bakewell who had the local garage and was a general hardware merchant brought the first wireless to Pinnaroo. On Friday night (late shopping night) he would put the wireless set out on the footpath in front of his shop. The static was almost deafening but crowds would gather round to hear this “new fangled” machine.”

“What jobs did you do that don’t exist today, Dad?” I asked.

“One job that doesn’t exist today is the re-tyreing of all sorts of wheels, from buggy and sulky wheels up to the wheels on table top wagons. Some of the wagon wheels were up to five feet high and sometimes the tyres were 8″ wide and 1 1/4″ thick. When they came loose they would have to be taken off the wheel and either be upset or cut and shut, depending on how much smaller they had to be made in order that they would be tight enough to fit the wheel again. If they had to be upset, they would have to be heated in the forge and then put in the upsetting machine. That would then be operated so that it would squeeze the hot metal up and thus make the tyre smaller in diameter. When this was being done the hot metal would flow and the surplus would flow out to the sides. While it was still hot this metal was cut off with a chisel and sledge hammer. The tyre would be worked on until the tyre was the right size for the wheel. When this was being done on the big tyres there would sometimes be three strikers with sledge hammers and between each blow of a sledge hammer the blacksmith would point with his hand hammer to show the strikers where he wanted them to hit. For those listening, it would sound like this. Woomp-tap-Woomp-tap, Woomp-tap-woomp-tap-woomp-tap. I used to love these times, it seemed to be such exciting work and we would work until we were ready to drop.

“If a wheel was so loose that it had to be cut and shut the method was that the tyre would be heated and a piece cut out of it and then it would be re-welded. After the piece was cut out again with chisel and sledge hammer, it would be brought to welding heat in the forge and then put into the upsetting machine and this would bring the two ends together and squeeze them together while the metal was at welding heat which was almost molten. After this was done the same process followed with the three strikers. Speed was the essence of success in these operations. The heating in the forge for these big tyres would take anything up to an hour and during that time the blacksmith’s striker would have to turn the handle on the forge blower. Black coal was used in the fire which was later superseded by coke. Not Coco-cola-coke, but coke which is made from coal.

“Funny, Dad!” My dad loved “puns” and plays on words.

“With the advent of the wireless one of the strikers became very interested in wireless and in the early days the ships used to communicate with each other by Morse Code. This striker got himself a copy of the Morse Code and pinned it up to the post on which the forge blower was mounted and that way he learned the Morse Code while he was turning the handle of the blower. In the re-tyreing process, the wheels would first go to the wheelwright and he would then do any necessary repairs to the wheels such as re-wedging the spokes or replacing any that needed replacing. The same with the felloes (rims), they would then go to the blacksmith and he would measure the wheel and the tyre with an instrument we called a Trammel (which was a calibrated wheel) in order to find out how much the tyre had to be reduced. The wheelwright would tell him how much “Tight” was needed. That is, how much smaller the tyre had to be so that it would be tight enough when the tyre was put on the wheel again. If it was too tight, it would what we called “Dish” the wheel. That is, it would make the wheel saucer shaped. If that was too pronounced, the wheel could be ruined. It was indeed a very skilled trade which made the work all the more interesting.

“It was the usual practice to prepare all the wheels for tyreing once a week. When they were all ready, all the tyres were laid in a hollow in the ground. All the different sizes were laid one inside the other and then a fire would be prepared made up of paper, kindling and Mallee roots. It would be lit first thing in the morning and as the lighter tyres became hot enough they would be removed and put on their respective wheels. The fire would be continually stoked up and by about 3 p.m. the big tyres would be hot enough to drop onto the wheels. They were then cooled as quickly as possible so that the wooden rims would not be burnt too much. They would then be OK to run on the roads for another year or so. It was very hard work but it was also full of interest and I never did tire of it. Blacksmithing is a wonderful trade. I found it a wonderful occupation doing creative work with my hands.”