19. Memories of the Aurthor

How pleasant it is to wander back through the years and dwell on those little incidents of the past.  Some were humorous and have been told many times over, wherever a group of locals have a few moments to while away.  Sometimes a little event that just happened lingers on in our memories.  At times tragedy suddenly entered the life of a family and occasions such as this would bring the whole community together in a bond of fellowship to help those in need.  At no time in history has the world seen more changes than in my generation.  From the days of the bullock team through to mans greatest scientific achievement, the day 'A Man Named Armstrong Walked On The Moon'.  All this in a period of sixty years.

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Horses Versus Tractors
Its the little things though that we remember most.  When tractors were beginning to appear around 1930, the old hall at Winchendon Vale was packed one night to hear a debate on 'Tractors versus Horses'.  The case for horses was led by M.L. Kingdon, editor of the Coolamon 'Review', assisted by Rev David Livingstone Presbyterian Minister of Coolarnon.  Tractor Farming was led by S.J. Kenaley of Junee.  Chairman was H.S. Roberton.  The speakers for horses did not have a very impressive background but they won a resounding victory.  However their victory did nothing to prevent the course of nature.  Within fifteen years horse teams were a rare sight in the district.

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Moloney's Corner
Moloney's corner on Armstrong's Lane is well known today, it is marked by a huge corner post.  The story of the post was enacted in 1920.  The road, then a dirt track, passed within a few feet of the post.  Every year teamsters managed to hook the post with their wagons during the wheat carting.

Prime lamb King Martin Moloney, tired of replacing the post every year felt something just had to be done.  Employees Dick Greg and Joe Warburton were given a tree on 'Killarney,' to cut the biggest strainer post ever seen, out of.  The two cross cut saw cuts took up most of one day.  The hole for the post was dug with a pick and shovel, similar to a well.  The post, eight feet long and four feet in diameter was hauled to the spot with a team of horses and rolled into the hole.

Next wheat season, Martin Moloney had many a laugh as wagons loaded with wheat and sometimes empty became jammed hard against the post.  The only way to get off was to unhook most of the team, hook them to the rear of the wagon and pull it back off the post.  They made sure they never got caught a second time.  The old post has been there just on sixty years now, it still bears the scars of its first years, but neither wagons or time have succeeded in moving it.

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Gus Hillan's Nash
It was the time when new makes of motor cars began to arrive in the district.  Gus Hillan had just driven into Marrar behind the wheel of a brand new Nash.  He immediately claimed the attention of all those in the street and began to extoll all the good points of the car.

The discussion was well under way when local character Gus Giddins arrived on the scene.  Giddins was quick to join in with the remark, 'Start her up Hillan, till we see how she goes'.
Hillan, who was affectionally known as 'Ho' because of his habit of starting a conversation with the word 'Ho' fixed Giddins with a paralysing stare and remarked, 'Ho Giddins, the bloody motor is running, its just that its so quiet you can't hear it'.

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Early Radio’s and a Grey-Hound Dog
Around 1930 radio's were beginning to appear and any home that had one was never short of visitors.  Whole parties were organised around them.  The broadcasting of the cricket tests played between England and Australia was a milestone in history.

Although the broadcasts were synthetic whole groups of people would gather at a house where there was a radio, and very few would leave before the last ball was bowled around 3.00 a.m. During this time supper would be served every time play was adjourned for a meal break.

The Armstrongs at that time had an old 'Salonola' battery operated set and never missed the cricket.  Their regular visitors were Ernie Koetz and the Pearce boys.  Ernie talked, joked, ate, and gave advice to the players through till the end of play.  One night he expressed the opinion that he could make more runs than Lindsay Hassett with a pick handle.

The Pearces were still cropping and had to go home early.  Each night when they were leaving they tied their dog, a big black grey-hound called 'Spieler' at the back door.  At the end of play the full scoreboard, wrapped securely in a piece of rag was tied to the dogs collar and he was released.  When C.J. Pearce arose in the morning he went straight to the bag on the back verandah where 'Spieler' was curled up asleep.  Yes, without exception the scores were always there.

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The Stump in the Main Street
I am indebted to Mick Hodge for this delightful little anecdote.  The Cooney Brothers from out Mimosa way had driven into Marrar in their sulky to interview a prospective employee.  Driving up the main street they ran up a stump and tipped the sulky over.

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Marrar By Lamplight
In the main street, before motor cars arrived there used to be a lamp post with a four sided glass case on top and inside a small kerosene light.  The light was directly in front of the village Smithy to light up the four ways.  It was the job of Jim Hipwell, the local mailman to keep the lamp full of kerosene, light it at dark, and blow it out at daylight.  For his services to the community he received the princely sum of five shillings a week.

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A Lady Catches a Train
Questions have often been asked as to where Nick Winter inherited his athletic prowess.  His father Andy Winter was tall and lean and recognised as a top athlete in his day.  He claimed 'Nick' was a 'Chip off the old block'.  Nick seems to bear this out with his statement that one of the greatest days in his life was when he 'Downed The Old Man'.

The claim was disputed by his mother Mrs. Sal Winter, who claimed he inherited his talent from her.  Perhaps both were right, the following little story seems to bear this out.  The South West Mail, Sydney bound, had just pulled into the station at Marrar as Mrs. Winter turned the corner of the old Post Office and she had to be on that train at all costs.  The railway gates, four feet six inches high had just been closed.  Gathering her ankle length skirt up, she took off, hurdled the gate in her stride and caught the train.

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A Young Man Is Missing
In 1923 Jack Parker who lived on 'Misty Hills', (Hubert Hasall's), reported that a young Scotchman who worked for him had been missing for several days.  Parker was worried as all the young man's belongings were still at his house.  Enquiries revealed that Martin Moloney had given him a lift from Marrar to his gate one evening but from there the trail ended.

A week later 'Long' Wattie Withers who worked for Moloney was walking with his son Barney near the dam on the west side of the road when Bamey spotted a man's hat near the dam.  Martin Moloney identified the hat as the one the young man had been wearing when he let him out of sulky and this was confirmed by Jack Parker.

It was immediately assumed that the missing man was in the dam.  Constable Tom Gunther of Marrar on being informed, secured grappling hooks and arranged to drag the dam the next day.  Watched by district farmers M. Moloney, J.W. Armstrong and J. Parker and Dr. D. Buchanan of Coolamon, Gunther commented, 'If his body is in there I'll get him with three pulls'.  The second or third pull wasn't needed.  The first throw struck and the body of the young Scot was pulled from the water.

Jack Parker who was visibly shaken by the drama, commented, 'A man travels twelve thousand miles across the ocean and drowns himself in a farmer's dam'.

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An Invalid and A Circular Saw - A Day of Tragedy
Fred Pratt, I always remember as the invalid who drove the sulky.  Sitting up straight in the sulky with his two crutches beside him he was a familiar sight around the streets of Marrar.  Fiercely independent, he sought no help from his friends.

Unable to stand or walk without crutches, he established a small wood yard with engine and saw bench behind his house in Lime Street on land where Rex Furner's new home stands today.  With a man to help him put the wood on the saw bench, he stood, a crutch under each arm and fed the saw.  On that fateful day in 1930, the saw, a little blunt began to jam as Fred was finishing off an old stump with a bent root on it.

Fred moved around on his crutches and opened the engine throttle wide.  He moved back again and hit the wood hard up against the saw.  The strain was too great, the saw shattered and a piece struck Fred, killing him instantly.

On that day, others in the town could have been lucky.  His assistant, Lindsay Crane standing beside him was one.  A piece of the shattered blade became airborne and headed north.  During its flight it cut the telephone wires near the old Post Office and struck the silos some thirty feet above the ground.  The large chip of concrete it gouged out was visible for many years.  Another piece was picked up in the yard of Seth Cox residence, now the home of John Knoll.

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A Policeman Through And Through
One could never say that Sergeant, 'The Diddlo' of Junee wasn't a fair minded man.  One night, after driving his car down the street in Junee he discovered that his tail light wasn't working.  The outcome; he booked himself.

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A Football Umpire Misses A Train
In the early 1920's South West League was affiliated with the N.S.W. League.  It was the custom to draw umpires from Sydney.  They would arrive on the South West Mail train at the town where the home match was to be played, on the Saturday morning and return on the same train that night.  The train in those days departed from Marrar around 6 p.m.

On this particular day the umpire, on finishing the match, adjourned to the Royal Hotel to change and enjoy a quick beer or two.  Unfortunately he tarried a little too long and looked out the front door just in time to hear the 'Mail' whistle for the crossing.

Efforts to induce someone to drive him to Junee to catch the Albury Mail which departed around 9 p.m. failed.  With no further trains till Monday night his position was desperate.  About an hour later local farmer Alf Rapley, reported to the Police that his horse and sulky was missing.  Police Constable, Tom Gunther who had played for Marrar that day wasn't worried.  He said, 'I know who took it and he will be well on his way to Junee by now.  I'll drive up to Junee later on in the car and grab the culprit when he goes to board the train.

Tom was wrong though, the umpire was no fool and had headed for Wagga.  It just wasn't his day though, the horse was slow and he arrived at Wagga Station just as the Albury Mail started to move off.  Throwing the reins in the bottom of the sulky he leaped out and with a burst of speed managed to board the train before it cleared the platform.

He was still in trouble though, he didn't have a ticket.  His best chance was to buy one when the train stopped at Junee.  After observing the platform for several minutes he came to the conclusion there was no policeman there and it was safe to approach the ticket office.  However his luck was still out, Constable Gunther, expecting him to run in from the front of the station as the train was about to start was planted behind the ticket office door.  As he fronted the ticket office for his ticket, Tom pounced and in a matter of minutes the unlucky football umpire was handcuffed and on his way back to the Marrar lockup.

The incident didn't end there.  On the way back the constable managed to get the old car well and truly bogged.  He suggested that the handcuffed prisoner get out and push.  The prisoner was quick to tell Tom what he could do.

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The Indians, by Ivy Lawrence
A menace of the pioneer times was a race of nomads known as 'The Indians'.  They were black, arrogant, cowardly and a fear to the women of the bush.  They roamed around in pairs and would hide in the scrub and watch until the men had gone off to work.

They would then proceed, one to the front door the other to the rear.  Once in position they would announce their presence with a yell that would strike terror into feminine hearts.

Their first question was 'Yo-ubba-O', (Is your husband at home?).  The Indians peddled baskets of worthless ornaments and cheap trinkets and the womenfolk would be forced to buy something to get rid of them.  Admittedly, few of their goods cost more than sixpence, but not all the settler women had sixpence.

One day a couple of Indians came to 'Winchendon Vale' and were harassing the girls when my grandmother came in from the scrub carrying her buggy whip.  She crept up behind the first Indian and laced his backside with the whip, before he realised what had struck him.  Baskets went hurtling to the ground and with yells and screams the Indian skimmed the fence and tore off into the scrub with the blue heeler in hot pursuit.  The second Indian at the back door was quick to follow suit, in his haste to put a safe distance between himself and the whip he jettisoned his baskets, forgot about his mate and went screaming up the road intent on getting lost in the scrub.  However it just wasn't his lucky day.  The blue heeler, having chased the first Indian out of sight, trotted out of the scrub just in time to meet the second one streaking away from the house.  Blue hated Indians and with a bound had the now very frightened man by the heel.  With this persuasion from the dog he reached the scrub in record time.

Neither man ever returned to retrieve his wares and 'Winchendon Vale' was never again troubled by Indians.

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A New Bride Meets the Rabbits
When Hugh Roberton and his new bride Marjorie arrived at Marrar Railway Station there was no one there to meet them.  Agent George Dicks, who operated a hire car at the time was engaged to drive them out to 'Strocathro' as the new farm was named.

It was Marjorie Roberton's first visit to the farm and the little shack that served as a house.  As the car approached her future home from the Winchendon Vale Road, she thought she was dreaming as somewhere around one hundred rabbits disappeared under the house.  I asked 'Scotty' in later years who was the previous occupant of the house.  His reply: 'Snowy Stevenson, the Murrulebale Station rabbiter'.

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The Wagga Rug
Mention the name 'Wagga Rug' and few people would know what you were talking about.  During the great depression very few homes were without one or two of these popular little bed warmers.  They consisted of some six or eight clean wheat bags sewn together to make a rug.  Not many families could afford enough blankets for each bed, so the 'Wagga Rug' was thrown on the bed over one blanket.  Sometimes the bags were covered with floral cretonne sewn on each side and made quite an attractive eiderdown.

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The Green 'Blue Tin'
It was a bright spring morning during the depression days when Jack Keough pulled up in front of Fox Bros.  Motor Garage.  Leaving 'Maggie' and 'Lizzie' sitting in the little 'Whippet' motor car, he pulled a bright green two gallon petrol can from the back of the car and walked inside.  After preliminary greetings, he requested, 'Two gallons of petrol in the blue tin please Jack'.