Living in a Brunswick terrace 1940 – 1953 – Part 2

Living in a Brunswick Terrace part 1

8 year old Kevin in the kitchen

One day when home alone, I decided to cook dinner for Mum and Dad. I fried up bacon and eggs using dripping from the jam tin container in the kitchen cupboard which stored dripping saved from other meals.

A surprised Mum and Dad came home to a sizzling hot meal of bacon and eggs. As Dad hopped intohis meal he realised he was chewing a half burnt match.

The wrong tin

When I showed him where I got the dripping he saw that I’d used the rubbish dripping where grits, yucky stuff and matches were dumped. Matches were used to light the gas rings and dumped in that tin. The good stuff was in another cupboard.

Good old Dad

Dad continued to munch his bacon and eggs, with additives, but not matches. He said if I was good enough to do the cooking he was still going to eat it. What a bonser Dad.

Our local movie theatre

On our street corner at Sydney Road was the Ahlambra movie theatre. The real Ahlambra is a Moorish complex built in Spain between the third and fourth centuries A.D. and is still a major tourist destination. Our Ahlambra was not. The building is still there but the movies have faded away. In the terrace days it was a goer and being in the Hoyts circuit it showed the current movies but sometimes it showed its own programs like 1930’s black & white movies.

Flash Gordon & Ming the Terrible in our street!

In 1941 it showed a complete run of the classic Flash Gordon serial with the villanous Ming The Terrible on the planet Mongo every Friday night. I would run up at 8.00 pm, view Flash and dash back home to keep tabs on Mum and baby Pat as Dad was moonlighting as usher at the…”Ahlambrah”!

Movie Sessions in the 1940’s

Sessions kicked off at 7.45 pm with the latest newsreels of the day, often about the war. Then the B grade movie came on in black & white, a bit shorter than the main feature sometimes better. About 9 the lights came on for interval and a quick dash to nearby shops for ice creams, Violet Crumbles, Polly Waffles and other cholestoril enriched munchies.

The dark back lane

There was a public lane at the back of the theatre running from Donald street to the next street. For reasons I can’t remember the males toilet overflowed with patrons at interval with urgent patrons darting through a gate into the back lane and leaning against the fence sighing with relief.Sometimes an odd car would swing into the lane flooding the area with briliance causing chaos as it swished past the line up.

 After interval

After interval a cartoon of short feature/came on to settle the audience down with noisy packaging being discarded in time for the main feature which ended about 11.00 pm. Being on a corner the “Ahlambra” had several exit doors opening onto the street which patrons would burst open at the end of the show. They would shuffle out always to the strains of “Till we meet again”. On still nights when in my verandah bed I would hear the aging 78 spinning out its sad farewell lulling me to sleep.

The Butchers shop

Mum shopped at Gilmours butcher shop in Sydney Road, near Moreland Road corner. It was a big shop which included a small goods factory behind the shop with a back lane entrance. Normal cuts were displayed in their big window together with an interesting clinical display of parts. Sheep heads with glaring eyes, pig’s heads cut in half, sheep brains and livers, kidneys, pig’s trotters, sheep and beef tongues, beef kidneys and ox tails. And last of all, trays of creamy tripe.

Battlers tucker

This was the feed stock for a variety of battlers dishes. Jellied meats, brawn, potted meat, lambs fry, devilled kidneys, crumbed brains, jellied tongues, and the old favourite, tripe and onions.

Down on the farm

I was familiar with all this stuff because in the 1930’s when we lived in a Carlton terrace, we often stayed with family friends on their farm near Ballarat. During one visit I watched a packaged lamb being delivered in a paddock with our friends brother, Tom, who explained the process to this very interested young Kevin. I just accepted the explantion without fuss as young kids do. My 4 year old grandson is the same.

Working on the farm

Tom was a registered butcher and slaughtered his own sheep and pigs and sold cuts to neighbouring farmers. I watched sheep being slaughtered, skinned, opened up and hung in the meat house over night to cool and stiffen for cutting up the next day.

Delivering the meat

Cuts were wrapped in white paper and using a wooden skewer dipped in ink Tom labbled the parcels for delivery. Parcels were delivered in a horse drawn dray by Mum’s friend Anna, my first girl friend. My job, sitting next to Anna; was to jump down, open gates, close them and hop bark on.

 Notes & coupons

Meat storage was an ice chest so I was a regular client at Gilmours presenting Mum’s note and ration book coupons.During World War 2 meat, butter, sugar and I think tea were all rationed and required coupons. The cheap ration book paper was made at the Fairfield paper mill. Shiny on the print side and rough on the backside with black bits here and there called “chives” which were, actually bits of wood missing fine milling in the war time production rush.

Learning the cuts

While waiting at the butchers for Mum’s order I watched and learned. Whole carcasses of sheep were were halved by a band saw and rapidly broken down into chops and joints on the chopping blocks. Kidneys were mined out from a lode of fat and sheep heads were cracked open to remove brains.

The fatty days

All fat trimmings were tossed into a bin to be rendered down into packaged “Dripping”. Pork fat was sold as “Lard”. These were the days when animal dripping was the frying medium. Poor eating habits from these battering ’30’s lingered on with toast buttered from solidified roast dripping or bread was fried in a pan.

 A nasty taste in the mouth

In my terrace days butter was king on the table. Its competitor, margarine was confined to the kitchen for cooking only, and purposely did not taste so good on bread. It was also thought that some naughty sandwich shops mixed a tad of marge with the butter,as marge was cheaper than butter. Another item, mytholated spirits,a sugar alcohol, was tainted with a nasty taste to stop you drinking it. Some bods did drink it and people would say, “He’s on the metho”. Metho still tastes bad but good old marge got “friends at court” to change the rules and has made it to the table with a vengance.

Teen age years in the terrace

In my teen age years in the terrace I was never bored. There was no TV, mobile phone, computer, games or ipods to keep me active. I was interested in lots of things including photography & ships.

Photos in the bathroom

My friend Tommy showed me how to develop black & white film from Mum’s box camera by see sawing the film in a dish of developer in the bathroom, under a red globe. Prints were made in a glass frame. Tommy opened a door for me which has never shut.

My first lessons in photography

Working in the city with an hour for lunch I often visited McGills Technical book shop and while munching sandwiches I siphoned photo taking info from their books and didn’t drop any crumbs. I did buy some of their photo books, the cheaper ones.

Ships, Ships, Ships

From my school days I’ve been a ship fan visiting ships open for inspection or just rubber necking from the wharf at Port Melbourne and the Yarra. I’ve been over many ships from the Australian, British and American navies.

Boarding a Sub

When. H.M.S. “Telemachus”, a British sub from World War 2, and once mentioned in Despatches, berthed at No. 1 North Wharf and was open for inspection I was there. What a shock when I went down the hatch and into the hull which was under water. The plumbing on a World War 2 sub was a nightmare requiring much ducking, bending and squeezing to travel through the hull.

Collins Street sailors

When P & 0 liners came to Port Melbourne my mate Keith and I would go to the shipping office in Collins street and obtain visitors passes. With crowds of onlookers on Station Pier we would front up to the passengers gangway, show our passes and waltz on board to go over all the open decks then lounge about the public rooms like toffs, sipping our soft drinks from the bar. Then-it was a quick visit to the First Class loo before we went ashore

The P & 0 Terminus

Sydney was the terminus fori’the liners from the UK but some passengers jumped ship, at Perth and Melbourne leaving empty cabins. As bums in beds paid for running these ships seven quid got you a trip to Sydney in a vacant cabin with all meals included. The down side was the waiting list.

Sydney Ahoy, 1951

Flowers and Newmans chocolates to a nice P & 0 office lady got us a double berth on R.M.S.”Himilaya”. Home and hosed for a Sydney holiday, you little ripper!

Under way on the “Himilaya”

Standing on the open deck and almost to the heads “Himilaya” was hit by a strong westerly which listed her for several minutes. Port Phillip is notorious for these strong westerlies especially at Port Melbourne. Many liners have been in trouble berthing at the pier sometimes needing additional emergency tug assistance.

Sunrise at sea

On deck at dawn to see a spectacular sunrise turned out to be a dud. But Nature rewarded our early rising with a display of flying fish leaping above the waves and splashing-back into Bass Strait.

Edwardian elegance in George street

Our Edwardian period hotel in George street billeted officers in the US Forces during World War 2 and they thanked the Hotel with a wall plague. We suffered badly from sea legs after our voyage. As you step foreward it feels like the pavement is hitting your feet before your step is finished.

The coat hanger

The bridge and I have something in common. We both came into service in 1932.What a great year, there is even a current book called “1932” about the great Aussie happenings in 1932. A must read.

We walked across the bridge in daylight and after dark. We walked to the exact centre of the bridge to view the sparkling Harbour, it was like flying.

The toast rack trams

The old toasters trams had a roof but no sides. The seats ran from side to side without a break so the connie had to collect fares from a running board down each side of the seats. With a single track in Sydney’s one way streets cars passed along each side of the trams. The toaster connie had to be alert when bending over to collect fares that he kept his bum out of the path of passing vehicles.

Getting around Sydney

We rode trams, double decker buses,trains, ferries visiting Manly, museums, Luna Park,walked City streets and went to movies. One theatre in George street was a bit dodgy. Bare board floor, rough seats and rough clients. We went once. We think it was the overcoat blokes head office.

Going home

Our return passage cost five quid, including meals on M.V “Duntroon”, an Aussie 10,000 tonner about half the size of “Himalaya”. “Duntroon” was a troop ship during World War 2 that had been armed with a four inch deck gun manned by a naval crew. She returned to coastal passenger service in 1950 and ran until 1959. For some reason I vividly remember our first breckkie on the old Vet. Whopping thick bangers busting out of their skins, fried gooey googs, thick rashers of bacon, tomatoes and farm sized toast. Our coastal ships had a rep for full plates of hearty tucker. Wow! I can smell those bangers now.

Ping pong on the poop deck

At the stern of the “Duntroon”was a short, enclosed elevated area the width of the ship. In the Hornblower sailing days the poop deck was the Captain’s private area. Only the helmsman and officers were allowd here. Common seaman were banned. On the “Duntroon” the lower classes played table tennis on the poop deck. Chasing the little ball as the ship rolled and pitched was great fun. Coming into Hobsons Bay it was a left turn and up the Yarra to berth at North Wharf. The holiday was over.

My first camping outfit

As soon as I started work (1948) I put a sleeping bag on lay by. It cost 5 pounds ($10) and my pay was 2 pounds 5 shillings ($5) per week. The bag was stuffed “Tropal” to keep me warm. Next purchase was an ex Army surplus hammock with roof and zippered mossie proof sides.

A weekend camping trip

When a long weekend came up mates Keith and Joe suggested a bike ride to Wallan for a try out of our camping gear. We all had hammocks and sleeping bags. Saddled up with gear strapped to our bikes and packs on our backs we took off for the open road.

The bush past Mahoneys Road

We peddled up Sydney Road past His Majesty’s free holiday resort. (Editors note: Pentridge Prison) Finally, past Mahoneys Road, it was open paddocks with a gum tree or two. This was the bush with a big horizon and distant hills.

Kelly country & an extinct volcano

At Kal Kallo we were in Kelly country as Ned’s family had an early home in this area. Ahead of us was a stiff peddle around the base of the looming Mt. Fraser, a perfect example of a hopefully extinct volcano. If you stagger to the summit you’ll stare into a deep, deep crater where we saw tiny cattle grazing.

Coasting into Wallan

With the volcano well behind us we coasted down hill into Wallan, a delightful little settlement at the foot of Pretty Sally Hill, it’s weathered timber buildings a 19th century time warp.

Our smelly camp site

We camped after the last building, just off the highway, in a cluster of bushy trees strong enough for hammocks and dense enough for privacy. We unpacked and made a fire place with stones then someone said, “What’s that smell”? It was bread baking on the other side of the road at the local bakery. Sucked in by the heavenly aroma of crusty loaves we bought enough bread to blow our rationed butter early in the trip. Our last breckkie toast was fried bread.

Pretty Sally slows the rigs

Pretty Sally is a long hill that climbs up the Dividing Range and at this time was well known as a tough climb. Diesel semi trailers of the day slowed to walking pace as they growled up in low gear.

Rust in peace

Unfortunately Wallan was often the scene of accidents as vehicles came down Sally too fast and ended up tow truck fodder rusting in peace alongside the local garage.

Meeting the locals

We met up with some of the friendly local lads who were happy to hang out with us and keenly checked out our hammocks. We bonded well and saw them each day.

Catching rabbits with bare hands

The locals explained how they caught rabbits bare handed through knowing their daily routine. During the day bunnies sit in tussocks nibbling, all nice and cosy. Hidden in the grass their shiny black eyes scan for predators, like us. At the last moment they’ll bolt just ‘as you are about to step on them.

Hunting for the black eye

The predator scans the tussocks looking for that black eye and holding a simple bush weapon. A length of fencing wire with one end doubled over for grip.

Running around in circles

With an eye spotted the predator takes off, running around the tussock hide out in tighter and tighter circles. The victim just squats hoping to be invisible then woosh – the fencing wire slams across the furry back with stunning force.

Bring home the bacon

The groggy rabbit is quickly grabbed and its neck broken. Wow! Those country boys are fast. Underground mutton for their mum’s kitchen and skins to be dried and sold to the skin merchant to be fur felt feedstock for making hats.

Weary campers

With a weary afternoon of slashing a paddock of tussocks into chaff one of us pupils finally slugged a bunny. As an ex rabbit trapper from my school day holidays at country Traralgon I was elected to do the post mortem.

Post mortem

The deceased, a burrowing rodent of the hare family was killed by a broken neck after being stunned by a blow to its back. A long incision was made from the rib cage to its tail. Organs were carefully removed and inspected including the rosary beads. The liver was examined for hydatid cysts that contain tape worm larva

Tape worms

Tape worm larva consumed by humans cam result in the development of a big snake like creature that lives in human tracts and can endanger life. A chemist shop in Sydney Road had horrifying samples of human tape worms preserved in jars of liquid as an attraction in their window display. I always thought they were snakes till I read the labels.

Post mortem report

With a clear post mortem I gave the OK for a bunny on the barbie to be our main course for dinner by firelight at the Pretty Sally out door diner.

Dinner for 3 by firelight

Scorched to a shiny black the bunny carcass was divvyed between the 3 hungry diners. The white stringy flesh was served with heavily buttered crunchy bread. Dessert was chilled tinned peaches splattered with tasty tinned cream. The meal was washed down by mugs of steaming thick cocoa made by mixing cocoa and milk powders with hot water.

Camping tucker

This is the downside of camping, putting up with rough bush tucker. My stockman Grand Father always said… “All you need is plenty of tucker and a bloody good bed. We had this at Wallan in 1948.

Back home

When we returned home I had bad news for my 3 little sisters. I told them there would be no Easter eggs for them as we had eaten the Easter Bunny at Wallan.

Leaving school & tramming to Town

After finishing grade 8 I left school and went to business college in the City for a year. This started a daily routine of tramming to the City for the next 10 years.

The Business College

The College was in Mitchell House, an art deco gem on the Elizabeth & Lonsdale streets corner. My school mate, Keith, joined me at the College making us 2 boys in a class of 20 rowdy teen age girls. We all battled our way through typing, shorthand, English and book keeping sessions.

Learning to type

Vintage 78 records were played on a heritage gramophone and we typed our finger exercises in rythm to various records, the favourite being the unforgetable “Valencia”. We all typed off together and at the end of each line a chorus of 22 typewriter bells dinged indicating we were all in time.

Pitmans shorthand

Shorthand was a 6 months slog of circles, squiggles, strokes, curves, vowels, consonents and rules. After 6 months it suddenly all fell into place. The Parrot repetition paid off.

The Mystery Shop

During our brief lunch break we escaped our class mates twittering girl talk by walking the nearby streets. The arcade on the diagonal corner opposite Mitchell house contained an unmanned shop of mystery and danger. Its floor was crawling with a variety of nasty live snakes! We never did solve that mystery.

Holy Ground & a lot of firsts

The church corner opposite Mitchell House is holy family ground. My great, great, grandad, David, arrived at the port Phillip Settlement in 1839. He was married by Melbourne’s first Catholic priest Franciscan Friar Patrick Geoghegan at Melbourne’s first Catholic Church. This was the temporary St. Francis Church that was built of 150 quids worth of floor boards. It also doubled as the first Catholic school on week days. The wooden church pre dated the current church completed in 1846 after 5 years construction. The floor boards were recycled.

Starting work in the Melbourne of 1946

We finished our course with flying colours in 1947 and started our first full time jobs in 1948. Keith to an accountants office and Kevin to a small advertising agency. After his marriage my ancestor David, also started his first full time job working at Melbourne’s second brewery. Bad luck David that was a bit of a come down copping second best. Three years later David left Melbourne to successfully battle the bush in the wilds of Gippsland.

 

continue to Living in a Brunswick terrace Part 3