Let's Start with Class Distinction
In the early 1920s the days of my father’s manhood there were very distinct classes of people. There were the Landed Gentry, the Squatters but to all other classes these were called ‘Cockies’ or ‘Cow Cockies’. The other class the farm hands, the fencers, the rabbiters, Jack of All Trades were just called by their surname they to like it or lump it because work was always fairly scarce, they were always kept in their place, even in those days when a ball was held the landed gentry made sure the chalk line was drawn down the centre of the Ballroom floor and the untouchables were not allowed or supposed to cross the line; the young bloods were not too keen being treated in this manner and the line was accidently on purpose rubbed out or quite often especially when the young bloods had a little drop of what they drank in those days a few of the lads on both sides on the line were invited outside just to see how good they were.
This snobbishness was prevalent in small towns and I remember in one town you had to have almost royal blood to join the tennis club but as the years went on the club almost went broke through lack of money or was it the blood of the right type? After the second world war the prices of wool went soaring, conditions were good the farmers got richer, the workers were getting better educated, more money and going ahead in leaps and bounds then the country was struck with crippling droughts, then floods then the rural recession that cut the landed gentry down to size, the years of being landed gentry were over for some especially the ones who had inherited large sums of money from the family, some of these young men had never worked, they didn’t have time to learn farming, their life style was quite the style of their ancestors in England, a good education whether they wanted it or not, from these Parties and Balls in general just enjoying life till the old man threw it in and they took over the family home and property, the grand? Fathers were generally good workers because they did it the hard way, opening the country up. We the working class found that some of the upper class especially if they were always rich were more approachable and much nicer than the ‘would be’s’ if they could be type and they were treated with respect that they deserved, also might I add, were the others – the ‘would bee’s’. ?????? (This needs to be cleared up. PP)
During the war I worked in the local big department store McKenzies and most people were working by this time the older girls being occupied with factories in Sydney, the services and land army, the fit and well boys of course were either at the war or serving the country in some way.
We had quotas for everything and clothing and food coupons. I worked in the haberdashery department and remember you could get three yards of ribbon for one coupon – when this precious glamorous lot of goods came in we kept the white, cream and pastel shades for the ladies who were going to have a baby, the word pregnant was not used like it is today after one of the young soldiers came home on leave, a young blushing bride, yes really blushing would quietly say “Betty would you keep me some baby ribbon when it comes in”. It was beautiful to see her face. We kept a little note book with these names in them also we made sure when the lace came in that they got their share of it too.
We found ribbon, lace and elastic were the commodities that were most sought after, the lace for a bit of glamour, the elastic to hold pants up. We bought pants in those days that had a band about 1” wide and one solitary button to hold them on.
In the main street we have a Memorial Clock which stands in the middle of the road with four sections of road going around it. It was the centre of town, on one corner was one of the local pubs which on the busiest day of the week being Saturday all the men in town seemed to converge there. To get to the other side to the main shop where I worked, we all, everyone in town would not walk from corner to corner to corner to corner but diagonally across from the pub to the clock to the other side (the police did not worry about jaywalkers in those days). Well one day this lady came running into the shop out of breath and out of sort and in a laughing embarrassed asked the department in general – another girl worked with me – “Have you got the elastic yet because I got to the clock and my pants fell down to my knees?” The only thing she could do was give a little kick and as they flew in the air she caught them and put them in her bag, much to the amusement of the pub patrons.
Another problem we had was the Prices Commission or his Department - they were always on the move looking for black marketeers. One very busy Saturday morning we were working on the run and a man, a stranger bought two cakes of soap at 3 ½ pence each. The price was right in front of him but by mistake I charged him 5 pence a cake and as soon as they were wrapped he pointed out my mistake. I gave him back his 3 pence that I had over charged him but I hardly slept that night because I though he was with the Prices Commission and that I would be either sacked or taken to court. I have never told anyone this before – I was only 16 and in charge of the department and pretty naïve.
There was no such thing as heating in shops in those days. I had lumpy red chilblains right up to the backs of my knees and of course being a not-too-bad sort and you never knew what young man might come home on leave or visit with a mate, you couldn’t be expected to wear the thick brown lisle stockings that mum and grandma wore. I and the rest of us young ones wore the rayon stockings that were available. There was no such thing as nylon stockings and by this time all the beautiful silk stockings that we had in the store were all gone even the ones that wouldn’t have been sold because of the colour (yellowy orange is the only description I can give them). The rayon stockings were stiff and very ‘wartime’ and were called utility stockings so my poor legs suffered but vanity prevailed.
One winter day we worked in our overcoats with mittens on our fingers.
The phone rang one day with a young girl giving me a country order – this meant she would order the goods; I would wrap it up and charge it to their account and then take it to the Grocery Department and it would go out to the property on the truck that delivered once a week or fortnight, (petrol was very scarce and could only be obtained by coupon) the lass gave me her order then asked me to tell the Hardware to send a pair of shoes out for Sarah. With surprise I asked do you mean the Shoe Department and no she said ‘Sarah’s a horse” and they will know what size I want. Ask for personal shopping now and see the difference in service.
This snobbishness was prevalent in small towns and I remember in one town you had to have almost royal blood to join the tennis club but as the years went on the club almost went broke through lack of money or was it the blood of the right type? After the second world war the prices of wool went soaring, conditions were good the farmers got richer, the workers were getting better educated, more money and going ahead in leaps and bounds then the country was struck with crippling droughts, then floods then the rural recession that cut the landed gentry down to size, the years of being landed gentry were over for some especially the ones who had inherited large sums of money from the family, some of these young men had never worked, they didn’t have time to learn farming, their life style was quite the style of their ancestors in England, a good education whether they wanted it or not, from these Parties and Balls in general just enjoying life till the old man threw it in and they took over the family home and property, the grand? Fathers were generally good workers because they did it the hard way, opening the country up. We the working class found that some of the upper class especially if they were always rich were more approachable and much nicer than the ‘would be’s’ if they could be type and they were treated with respect that they deserved, also might I add, were the others – the ‘would bee’s’. ?????? (This needs to be cleared up. PP)
During the war I worked in the local big department store McKenzies and most people were working by this time the older girls being occupied with factories in Sydney, the services and land army, the fit and well boys of course were either at the war or serving the country in some way.
We had quotas for everything and clothing and food coupons. I worked in the haberdashery department and remember you could get three yards of ribbon for one coupon – when this precious glamorous lot of goods came in we kept the white, cream and pastel shades for the ladies who were going to have a baby, the word pregnant was not used like it is today after one of the young soldiers came home on leave, a young blushing bride, yes really blushing would quietly say “Betty would you keep me some baby ribbon when it comes in”. It was beautiful to see her face. We kept a little note book with these names in them also we made sure when the lace came in that they got their share of it too.
We found ribbon, lace and elastic were the commodities that were most sought after, the lace for a bit of glamour, the elastic to hold pants up. We bought pants in those days that had a band about 1” wide and one solitary button to hold them on.
In the main street we have a Memorial Clock which stands in the middle of the road with four sections of road going around it. It was the centre of town, on one corner was one of the local pubs which on the busiest day of the week being Saturday all the men in town seemed to converge there. To get to the other side to the main shop where I worked, we all, everyone in town would not walk from corner to corner to corner to corner but diagonally across from the pub to the clock to the other side (the police did not worry about jaywalkers in those days). Well one day this lady came running into the shop out of breath and out of sort and in a laughing embarrassed asked the department in general – another girl worked with me – “Have you got the elastic yet because I got to the clock and my pants fell down to my knees?” The only thing she could do was give a little kick and as they flew in the air she caught them and put them in her bag, much to the amusement of the pub patrons.
Another problem we had was the Prices Commission or his Department - they were always on the move looking for black marketeers. One very busy Saturday morning we were working on the run and a man, a stranger bought two cakes of soap at 3 ½ pence each. The price was right in front of him but by mistake I charged him 5 pence a cake and as soon as they were wrapped he pointed out my mistake. I gave him back his 3 pence that I had over charged him but I hardly slept that night because I though he was with the Prices Commission and that I would be either sacked or taken to court. I have never told anyone this before – I was only 16 and in charge of the department and pretty naïve.
There was no such thing as heating in shops in those days. I had lumpy red chilblains right up to the backs of my knees and of course being a not-too-bad sort and you never knew what young man might come home on leave or visit with a mate, you couldn’t be expected to wear the thick brown lisle stockings that mum and grandma wore. I and the rest of us young ones wore the rayon stockings that were available. There was no such thing as nylon stockings and by this time all the beautiful silk stockings that we had in the store were all gone even the ones that wouldn’t have been sold because of the colour (yellowy orange is the only description I can give them). The rayon stockings were stiff and very ‘wartime’ and were called utility stockings so my poor legs suffered but vanity prevailed.
One winter day we worked in our overcoats with mittens on our fingers.
The phone rang one day with a young girl giving me a country order – this meant she would order the goods; I would wrap it up and charge it to their account and then take it to the Grocery Department and it would go out to the property on the truck that delivered once a week or fortnight, (petrol was very scarce and could only be obtained by coupon) the lass gave me her order then asked me to tell the Hardware to send a pair of shoes out for Sarah. With surprise I asked do you mean the Shoe Department and no she said ‘Sarah’s a horse” and they will know what size I want. Ask for personal shopping now and see the difference in service.