The Depression
The Depression was a word I heard but didn’t understand although the way it was spoken about did frighten me.
We had a beautiful orchard in our garden and ran it for private eating but as the crops grew we were allowed to sell the fruit for our own pocket money. In the front of our home there was a very tall pine tree growing. On Saturday mornings we got our work done and if we were particularly desperate for money we would climb the tree to see if we could see customers coming to buy our fruit. We would call out “I can see Mrs S coming – I bags her, she’s my customer”. In this way we sold fruit and were able to buy dresses and shoes for Christmas. They were good days and we were healthy and we never got sick of eating fruit or raw carrots, turnips, tomatoes, and even cauliflower. Since I left home thirty years ago I still cannot enjoy stoned fruit as I did when we ate it from the trees.
Late one hot summer’s day the fruit was ripe and falling under the trees. The family was sitting in the shade of the big pine when we saw a swaggie carrying his swag past our home. As there didn’t look to be anyone around our property at the time and the road ran along the orchard fence, the swaggie put his swag down and climbed over the fence and started to pick the fruit up off the ground. He ate many very fast and didn’t check to see what was good or bad. My father felt very sorry for him and called out. The swaggie took fright and jumped the fence but dad called him back and gave him a meal of mutton, bread and filled a sugar bag for him with fruit and veggies.
There had been a lot of swaggies passing through but we didn’t see anymore, but I do hope they helped themselves to our garden.
In the 1920s the home made car was very popular with my uncle Aubrey, the one crippled with polio. He was a very clever mechanic. I remember his table top truck made more the size of a modern ute they had bodies made of tin flattened out an shaped into a cabin – the paint work was usually very shiny enamel, the floor boards under the few were mostly about half an inch apart. This allowed dust, rain, mud and cool air to come in – sometimes they had side curtains made of celloyde a clear highly flammable material that looks like plastic. Going up the hill the motors always boiled and one of us always had to jump out and smartly chock the back wheel with a log of wood that was kept on the back of the truck for that purpose as stones were not always so readily obtained especially when you were running backwards downhill.
While the water cooled we generally either sat on the side of the road out of the way or picked wild flowers. Some people say that they used the water to boil the billy – but either way more hast less speed generally proved the point.
There were also glamorous cars at this time. My mother’s parents had a very modern and new car that was called ‘THE HUDSON’. It was a beautiful car and had back and front seats and if needed two dickie seats at the back of the driver’s seat facing the passengers. It was a big thrill to sit on the dickie seat and we felt very privileged to be able to get into this car. My handsome uncle drove it.
It was eventually to become the first motorised hearse for Barraba. Up until that time the hearse was horse drawn carriage with clear glass panes and frosted glass decorations around the windows. It was drawn by fat black horses.
The town boasted a cordial factory half a block from home and on the day the owners bottled the cordial we would sometimes go over and if he little glass stopper didn’t fit the bottle properly we were given a bottle of lemonade. I don’t remember there being another flavour other than lemonade but it didn’t stop me from enjoying it. I have a bottle with a glass marble from this factory.
I mentioned that we had an orchard but as we didn’t grow quinces it never occurred to us that to climb under the fence across the road and pinch the quinces – sometimes full of grubs – was anything but what we should do. There always seemed to be quince with a few small teeth marks all over them lying by the roadside. We always did this at night and I know the kids around robbed our trees. I don’t think anyone cared but they did get upset when the young men got into someone’s melon patch and tapped the melons until they found a ripe one. The tapped melons were of course no good and this was wanton waste. By tapping a melon I mean that they used a sharp knife – generally a pocket knife and made three deep cuts thus being able to take out a plug of melon and if it was pink or red it was ready for eating.
Water melons were a popular sweet in our days and we would put them into the big tank that we used to store gardening water or under a wet bag till it cooled. Then instead of cutting like they to today in round slices it was cut from end to end like a quarter of the moon. The proper way to eat was to sit on your backside with elbows out or draw up the knees and eat with the whole face buried in the melon. The juice would run from wrists to elbow and down the legs to the ground. This way you had a bath also even though it was slightly sticky the sugar melons were the best. Rock Melons were never so popular.
Although we were fairly poor we always had a cow with fresh milk and cream and a horse which I never personally ever rode. My eldest sister would gallop old Dolly everywhere, she and her girlfriend rode her bare back with Eileen on the reins. One day they were crossing the low gravel crossing when Dolly decided to roll so down she went on her knees and the girls jumped clear into the water, but me being only a small girl was particularly scared just watching from the bank. Another day I tried to put young brother on a small pony and he turned and kicked me in the legs so I would not even go near a horse again. I took to bike riding which I rode till I was about 19 years old, a big old Speedwell with no frills dust, chain, 2 wheels and pedals and bars to hold it together.
If our cow was dry dad’s mother would let us have milk. It was my job to walk down to grandmas before school a mile out of town. By following the rail tracks and stepping on the sleepers it seemed a little bit faster, but coming back I had to deliver the milk to mum and then go up another mile through town to the convent school and was always late and had to stay in at 11 o’clock or playtime. The other kids would call me ‘excuser’ and say what excuse do you have today – one day when sister asked me why I was late and as usual was told to stay in at 11 o’clock. I generally missed the prayers form nine o’clock until nine thirty and sister probably thought my soul was suffering. On this morning I got my ‘wild’ up and said with shaky knee “Look here sister, it is not my fault. I’ve got to go for milk and I am not staying in at 11 o’clock” and I didn’t and never did again.
One day in school a boy sitting in front of me put his hand up my tunic and instead of just giggling I stood up and told on him – he got six cuts but his got his own back because he and his mate fed my straw hat to the a goat tethered in the paddock next to the school. Another day I had the same boys plunk a big lump of chewing gun on the crown of my head. I had to have it cut out and so kept my beret on until it grew back again.
Just down the lane from the school the funeral director or undertaker had his shed where he held all his spare coffins and the hearse. Some of the girls and I would sit in this shed and talk about boys. We didn’t know much about boys and were always very proper especially as we were all under the assumption that if we got kissed and cuddled very hard we would have babies. We were never told anything and never told about periods and only that by natural cause of having older sisters did we find out how to cope.
We were not the only ones that used the coffin shed and one night a drunk slept in a coffin and when he woke up and saw that he was lying in a satin covered coffin he got such a shock that he went off the grog for two weeks.
One of the girls I went to school with had an alcoholic father and we were in class one day and sister was telling us about an artists and their famous works and my friend put her hand up and said “Sister my father is an artist” and sister looked at her in surprised askance and “Yes” she said “A bloody booze artist”. She was a game little girl.
On other days we were met after school, we generally had a few special friends on these days we had with us bits of finery, strings of jet black beads, pearls, earrings, gold bangles that fitted up near the elbow the especially grand ones were wide gold bands with flowers worked in them. These were worn above the elbow, we had lace gloves, little handbags made of very fine beads and sometimes dressed in satin dresses the most glamorous were tulle pink of course and satin slippers and sashes. These were gifts from our young flapper aunts now married young matrons with not time for such fripperies. Once dressed up we were transformed into film stars. I was always Jeanette McDonald and of course the gorgeous star Nelson Eddy was the Mountie who knelt at my feet and sang Rose Maree. Many was the night I went to sleep thinking of him. Sonja Henry was another favourite – Bing Crosby, Alice Fay, Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers, Greta Garbo, Ray Rogers, The Green hornet, Buck Jones, Gene Audrey and various other stars but they weren’t as romantic and so did not try to emulate them or wish they would kneel at your feet.
I have mentioned before about being a little curly headed Shirley Temple blonde, these tresses gave me the chance that my other sisters did not have. For instance I was flower girl at my auntie’s wedding; it was the usual pale pink long dress made of tulle it was very pretty. I was most excited to have this honour bestowed on me because in our family children were seen and not heard and I was wonder of wonders there all sugar and spice for all to see.
On Holy Thursdays the day before Good Friday there was always and exhibition of the Blessed Eucharist it consisted of all the school children with the boys dressed in their best trousers and white shirts and the girls wore their best or new white frocks, black shoes, white knee length socks and white veils. The youngest six girls walked ahead of the procession walking sideways carrying big baskets beautifully decorated with ferns and ribbons, these baskets were filled with rose petals, these we picked out of the baskets in small handfuls, taken to the lips then kissed and scattered on the floor.
I have wondered since if sister knew how well I could swear would she have been frightened that the rose petals would burn up in the basket, but I suppose there are always two sides to us and we can always show our best side when we want to.
The four most exciting days in the year were for me the local Pastoral and Agricultural Show but to see it was called ‘the show’. On these days we generally had to have a new dress - a school holiday was always declared by the Mayor, we were always up early with our work done and on our best behaviour. Dad would be home on that day he would shave early using his big leather razor strap to sharpen his cut-throat razor. He always had his shaving mug filled with hot water and small pieces of paper ready to wipe his razor clean. He would have his bath and go all dressed to have a day out. There was no Women’s Lib in those days and mum would pack enough lunch to last all day and for any stray relation or friends of dads. With the pram weighed with the current baby, baskets of food with one small child holding the handle of the pram, one carrying an old rug and another one carrying a big billy we set off around 10 o’clock. Once we arrived there we, the bigger ones scattered until we were hungry. One of us found dad and he would take the billy to where an old man was in charge of the boiling hot coppers of water. He filled the billy with water we used our own tea then we would have a picnic lunch. I think mum just sat on the rug with her relations from the country and talked but about 4.30 we would be rounded up and wend our way home, dad pushing the pram with at least two kids loaded on board.
Dad was always interested in the buck jumping and ring events and the boxing ring. My bigger sisters were interested in the boys that came to the show, especially one sister who had a crush on Ken from village miles out of town. I don’t know whether she ever spoke to him but to admire from afar was enough. I liked sideshow alley, the stands that sold the Kewpie dolls in frilled tulle and dresses that were tied onto black cane walking sticks, the fur monkeys with long tails and hard pink and white plaster of Paris faces and the pretty windmills that blew around in the breeze.
There were side shows with the big noisy boxing troupe Jimmy Sharman’s troupe, he had big men standing up on high stands in front of the tent and a Chinese man banged a drum and brought the crowds flocking around. The fighters work satin dressing gowns.
A troupe of girls, well built with not much on usually trailed stained satin bra and pants like a bikini but a bit more was covered, a bikini would not have been allowed in those days, they too seemed to wear some pink tulle also the women wore a lot more makeup than was usual they also had very dirty feet and I know that men were egged on to wrestle them to the floor and kiss them, very hot stuff in those days I doubt is many men game to try – perhaps only the bachelors or the drunks.
Another memorable time of the year was when a well-known business man shouted the kids to a free night at the pictures. At the door on the way in were all walked in in single file and given an apple and an ice cream in a bucket. They were something new and were beautiful.
Another good night was Christmas Eve everyone went to town for late night shopping. Santa paraded in his costume and handed out very small bags of sweets. I remember there were licorice all-sorts included. The main street was especially decorated with pine trees about 12 feet high that were tied to all the posts that came out to the end of the footpaths. They were big iron posts that held up the awnings along the shops. These trees were decorated with crepe paper and decorations. The band played in the street. We had a very good brass band most towns had one. There was a special kind of excitement on Christmas Eve- even though the presents were not like they are today maybe a ribbon or a book or a stocking and a top but it was exciting the extra food was bought at the Christmas Eve night, when we got home we would have supper then dad would go outside and crow like a rooster and all the roosters would crow each one getting louder than the others till all the fowls in town woke up and made a lot of noise.
About 4 am the Sallies (Salvation Army) would come to the street corner where we lived and sing hymns – this was another beautiful part of Christmas when they knocked on the door for a donation it didn’t matter how early or late it was they always go something in their boxes. The Salvation Army always went to every part of the town singing these carols and did not just pick on us because we needed the hymns the most.
Down along the river where our swimming hole was called the Pump house there lived a family in an old home it was old even 40 years ago but it was one of the cleanest places I have ever been in, the yard was always swept bare like cement, there were no mowers and not much water for lawns in those days. Mostly we were only allowed to go as far as the back step not only us kids but mostly everyone, their daughter was a friend of my older sister she always has some particularly interesting object to show us and one day she brought a glass screw top bottle over to our place to show us an icing decoration from off her mother’s wedding cake. 25 years old it was. Daphne was most proud pointing out the little sugar flower and the intricate lace work. It truly was a work of art but the trouble was Daphne put the bottle on the table and went away to play games with my sister and one of my other sisters and I crawled under a bed and ate the beautiful work of art, it still tasted good and sweet but I will never forget the look on Daphne’s face and I still wonder
END OF NOTES
We had a beautiful orchard in our garden and ran it for private eating but as the crops grew we were allowed to sell the fruit for our own pocket money. In the front of our home there was a very tall pine tree growing. On Saturday mornings we got our work done and if we were particularly desperate for money we would climb the tree to see if we could see customers coming to buy our fruit. We would call out “I can see Mrs S coming – I bags her, she’s my customer”. In this way we sold fruit and were able to buy dresses and shoes for Christmas. They were good days and we were healthy and we never got sick of eating fruit or raw carrots, turnips, tomatoes, and even cauliflower. Since I left home thirty years ago I still cannot enjoy stoned fruit as I did when we ate it from the trees.
Late one hot summer’s day the fruit was ripe and falling under the trees. The family was sitting in the shade of the big pine when we saw a swaggie carrying his swag past our home. As there didn’t look to be anyone around our property at the time and the road ran along the orchard fence, the swaggie put his swag down and climbed over the fence and started to pick the fruit up off the ground. He ate many very fast and didn’t check to see what was good or bad. My father felt very sorry for him and called out. The swaggie took fright and jumped the fence but dad called him back and gave him a meal of mutton, bread and filled a sugar bag for him with fruit and veggies.
There had been a lot of swaggies passing through but we didn’t see anymore, but I do hope they helped themselves to our garden.
In the 1920s the home made car was very popular with my uncle Aubrey, the one crippled with polio. He was a very clever mechanic. I remember his table top truck made more the size of a modern ute they had bodies made of tin flattened out an shaped into a cabin – the paint work was usually very shiny enamel, the floor boards under the few were mostly about half an inch apart. This allowed dust, rain, mud and cool air to come in – sometimes they had side curtains made of celloyde a clear highly flammable material that looks like plastic. Going up the hill the motors always boiled and one of us always had to jump out and smartly chock the back wheel with a log of wood that was kept on the back of the truck for that purpose as stones were not always so readily obtained especially when you were running backwards downhill.
While the water cooled we generally either sat on the side of the road out of the way or picked wild flowers. Some people say that they used the water to boil the billy – but either way more hast less speed generally proved the point.
There were also glamorous cars at this time. My mother’s parents had a very modern and new car that was called ‘THE HUDSON’. It was a beautiful car and had back and front seats and if needed two dickie seats at the back of the driver’s seat facing the passengers. It was a big thrill to sit on the dickie seat and we felt very privileged to be able to get into this car. My handsome uncle drove it.
It was eventually to become the first motorised hearse for Barraba. Up until that time the hearse was horse drawn carriage with clear glass panes and frosted glass decorations around the windows. It was drawn by fat black horses.
The town boasted a cordial factory half a block from home and on the day the owners bottled the cordial we would sometimes go over and if he little glass stopper didn’t fit the bottle properly we were given a bottle of lemonade. I don’t remember there being another flavour other than lemonade but it didn’t stop me from enjoying it. I have a bottle with a glass marble from this factory.
I mentioned that we had an orchard but as we didn’t grow quinces it never occurred to us that to climb under the fence across the road and pinch the quinces – sometimes full of grubs – was anything but what we should do. There always seemed to be quince with a few small teeth marks all over them lying by the roadside. We always did this at night and I know the kids around robbed our trees. I don’t think anyone cared but they did get upset when the young men got into someone’s melon patch and tapped the melons until they found a ripe one. The tapped melons were of course no good and this was wanton waste. By tapping a melon I mean that they used a sharp knife – generally a pocket knife and made three deep cuts thus being able to take out a plug of melon and if it was pink or red it was ready for eating.
Water melons were a popular sweet in our days and we would put them into the big tank that we used to store gardening water or under a wet bag till it cooled. Then instead of cutting like they to today in round slices it was cut from end to end like a quarter of the moon. The proper way to eat was to sit on your backside with elbows out or draw up the knees and eat with the whole face buried in the melon. The juice would run from wrists to elbow and down the legs to the ground. This way you had a bath also even though it was slightly sticky the sugar melons were the best. Rock Melons were never so popular.
Although we were fairly poor we always had a cow with fresh milk and cream and a horse which I never personally ever rode. My eldest sister would gallop old Dolly everywhere, she and her girlfriend rode her bare back with Eileen on the reins. One day they were crossing the low gravel crossing when Dolly decided to roll so down she went on her knees and the girls jumped clear into the water, but me being only a small girl was particularly scared just watching from the bank. Another day I tried to put young brother on a small pony and he turned and kicked me in the legs so I would not even go near a horse again. I took to bike riding which I rode till I was about 19 years old, a big old Speedwell with no frills dust, chain, 2 wheels and pedals and bars to hold it together.
If our cow was dry dad’s mother would let us have milk. It was my job to walk down to grandmas before school a mile out of town. By following the rail tracks and stepping on the sleepers it seemed a little bit faster, but coming back I had to deliver the milk to mum and then go up another mile through town to the convent school and was always late and had to stay in at 11 o’clock or playtime. The other kids would call me ‘excuser’ and say what excuse do you have today – one day when sister asked me why I was late and as usual was told to stay in at 11 o’clock. I generally missed the prayers form nine o’clock until nine thirty and sister probably thought my soul was suffering. On this morning I got my ‘wild’ up and said with shaky knee “Look here sister, it is not my fault. I’ve got to go for milk and I am not staying in at 11 o’clock” and I didn’t and never did again.
One day in school a boy sitting in front of me put his hand up my tunic and instead of just giggling I stood up and told on him – he got six cuts but his got his own back because he and his mate fed my straw hat to the a goat tethered in the paddock next to the school. Another day I had the same boys plunk a big lump of chewing gun on the crown of my head. I had to have it cut out and so kept my beret on until it grew back again.
Just down the lane from the school the funeral director or undertaker had his shed where he held all his spare coffins and the hearse. Some of the girls and I would sit in this shed and talk about boys. We didn’t know much about boys and were always very proper especially as we were all under the assumption that if we got kissed and cuddled very hard we would have babies. We were never told anything and never told about periods and only that by natural cause of having older sisters did we find out how to cope.
We were not the only ones that used the coffin shed and one night a drunk slept in a coffin and when he woke up and saw that he was lying in a satin covered coffin he got such a shock that he went off the grog for two weeks.
One of the girls I went to school with had an alcoholic father and we were in class one day and sister was telling us about an artists and their famous works and my friend put her hand up and said “Sister my father is an artist” and sister looked at her in surprised askance and “Yes” she said “A bloody booze artist”. She was a game little girl.
On other days we were met after school, we generally had a few special friends on these days we had with us bits of finery, strings of jet black beads, pearls, earrings, gold bangles that fitted up near the elbow the especially grand ones were wide gold bands with flowers worked in them. These were worn above the elbow, we had lace gloves, little handbags made of very fine beads and sometimes dressed in satin dresses the most glamorous were tulle pink of course and satin slippers and sashes. These were gifts from our young flapper aunts now married young matrons with not time for such fripperies. Once dressed up we were transformed into film stars. I was always Jeanette McDonald and of course the gorgeous star Nelson Eddy was the Mountie who knelt at my feet and sang Rose Maree. Many was the night I went to sleep thinking of him. Sonja Henry was another favourite – Bing Crosby, Alice Fay, Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers, Greta Garbo, Ray Rogers, The Green hornet, Buck Jones, Gene Audrey and various other stars but they weren’t as romantic and so did not try to emulate them or wish they would kneel at your feet.
I have mentioned before about being a little curly headed Shirley Temple blonde, these tresses gave me the chance that my other sisters did not have. For instance I was flower girl at my auntie’s wedding; it was the usual pale pink long dress made of tulle it was very pretty. I was most excited to have this honour bestowed on me because in our family children were seen and not heard and I was wonder of wonders there all sugar and spice for all to see.
On Holy Thursdays the day before Good Friday there was always and exhibition of the Blessed Eucharist it consisted of all the school children with the boys dressed in their best trousers and white shirts and the girls wore their best or new white frocks, black shoes, white knee length socks and white veils. The youngest six girls walked ahead of the procession walking sideways carrying big baskets beautifully decorated with ferns and ribbons, these baskets were filled with rose petals, these we picked out of the baskets in small handfuls, taken to the lips then kissed and scattered on the floor.
I have wondered since if sister knew how well I could swear would she have been frightened that the rose petals would burn up in the basket, but I suppose there are always two sides to us and we can always show our best side when we want to.
The four most exciting days in the year were for me the local Pastoral and Agricultural Show but to see it was called ‘the show’. On these days we generally had to have a new dress - a school holiday was always declared by the Mayor, we were always up early with our work done and on our best behaviour. Dad would be home on that day he would shave early using his big leather razor strap to sharpen his cut-throat razor. He always had his shaving mug filled with hot water and small pieces of paper ready to wipe his razor clean. He would have his bath and go all dressed to have a day out. There was no Women’s Lib in those days and mum would pack enough lunch to last all day and for any stray relation or friends of dads. With the pram weighed with the current baby, baskets of food with one small child holding the handle of the pram, one carrying an old rug and another one carrying a big billy we set off around 10 o’clock. Once we arrived there we, the bigger ones scattered until we were hungry. One of us found dad and he would take the billy to where an old man was in charge of the boiling hot coppers of water. He filled the billy with water we used our own tea then we would have a picnic lunch. I think mum just sat on the rug with her relations from the country and talked but about 4.30 we would be rounded up and wend our way home, dad pushing the pram with at least two kids loaded on board.
Dad was always interested in the buck jumping and ring events and the boxing ring. My bigger sisters were interested in the boys that came to the show, especially one sister who had a crush on Ken from village miles out of town. I don’t know whether she ever spoke to him but to admire from afar was enough. I liked sideshow alley, the stands that sold the Kewpie dolls in frilled tulle and dresses that were tied onto black cane walking sticks, the fur monkeys with long tails and hard pink and white plaster of Paris faces and the pretty windmills that blew around in the breeze.
There were side shows with the big noisy boxing troupe Jimmy Sharman’s troupe, he had big men standing up on high stands in front of the tent and a Chinese man banged a drum and brought the crowds flocking around. The fighters work satin dressing gowns.
A troupe of girls, well built with not much on usually trailed stained satin bra and pants like a bikini but a bit more was covered, a bikini would not have been allowed in those days, they too seemed to wear some pink tulle also the women wore a lot more makeup than was usual they also had very dirty feet and I know that men were egged on to wrestle them to the floor and kiss them, very hot stuff in those days I doubt is many men game to try – perhaps only the bachelors or the drunks.
Another memorable time of the year was when a well-known business man shouted the kids to a free night at the pictures. At the door on the way in were all walked in in single file and given an apple and an ice cream in a bucket. They were something new and were beautiful.
Another good night was Christmas Eve everyone went to town for late night shopping. Santa paraded in his costume and handed out very small bags of sweets. I remember there were licorice all-sorts included. The main street was especially decorated with pine trees about 12 feet high that were tied to all the posts that came out to the end of the footpaths. They were big iron posts that held up the awnings along the shops. These trees were decorated with crepe paper and decorations. The band played in the street. We had a very good brass band most towns had one. There was a special kind of excitement on Christmas Eve- even though the presents were not like they are today maybe a ribbon or a book or a stocking and a top but it was exciting the extra food was bought at the Christmas Eve night, when we got home we would have supper then dad would go outside and crow like a rooster and all the roosters would crow each one getting louder than the others till all the fowls in town woke up and made a lot of noise.
About 4 am the Sallies (Salvation Army) would come to the street corner where we lived and sing hymns – this was another beautiful part of Christmas when they knocked on the door for a donation it didn’t matter how early or late it was they always go something in their boxes. The Salvation Army always went to every part of the town singing these carols and did not just pick on us because we needed the hymns the most.
Down along the river where our swimming hole was called the Pump house there lived a family in an old home it was old even 40 years ago but it was one of the cleanest places I have ever been in, the yard was always swept bare like cement, there were no mowers and not much water for lawns in those days. Mostly we were only allowed to go as far as the back step not only us kids but mostly everyone, their daughter was a friend of my older sister she always has some particularly interesting object to show us and one day she brought a glass screw top bottle over to our place to show us an icing decoration from off her mother’s wedding cake. 25 years old it was. Daphne was most proud pointing out the little sugar flower and the intricate lace work. It truly was a work of art but the trouble was Daphne put the bottle on the table and went away to play games with my sister and one of my other sisters and I crawled under a bed and ate the beautiful work of art, it still tasted good and sweet but I will never forget the look on Daphne’s face and I still wonder
END OF NOTES