I have seen the different family members many times over the years since and we all enjoy a laugh about my visit, but I’m still no wiser as to Alec’s intent that day.
One event we attended regularly for quite a time was Round Dancing that a group of people from Melbourne were teaching in the hall at Grantville. We met many wonderful people in this way, among them the Barker Family. Pop and Mum Barker, as they were known to all and sundry, were stalwarts of Grantville, he being a senior supervisor with the Country Roads Board in our region, and Mum, a mother to her large family and a friend to all. Both Mum and Pop Barker became the saviours of my mother for they began to closely monitor the threats and dangers Stan was fermenting at home on the farm. About this time Stan was asked to leave the Wonthaggi Masonic Lodge, because we were told, of his history of violence to the family. The only other official recognition of his problem was the recommendation by the Department of Veteran Affairs that he see a psychiatrist. Stan openly boasted he knew the answer to questions that might propel him in that direction. The true extent of our family’s problems was soon revealed to the Barkers and they kept a close watch on Mum thereafter.
One Sunday I was asked to take Ross and Pam to Sunday school at Bass. It was something I had done a number of times before but unfortunately, while driving home after the service, we had an accident. Approaching in the other direction was a utility which tried to cross the culvert at the same time. Being too narrow for both cars we sideswiped. The Holden utility, careered off the road onto its side and the Wolsely sustained damage to the right hand side. The other driver was panicking as I helped him out of the window and although no one was hurt, he insisted on informing the police.
The local policeman, Ivan Porter, was familiar with my use of the car and motorbike although he had never caught me. He was also aware of the state of affairs at home. In due course we arrived home and Stan flew into a predicable rage. When Ivan attempted to discuss the whole issue he was amazed to hear Stan accuse me of stealing the car, because if true, it would allow Stan to claim insurance. It was Stan’s turn for a surprise when Ivan turned on him saying it was a despicable lie and although unlicensed, I had not contributed any more to the accident than the other driver. Ivan knew I had been driving for some time and went on to give Stan a thorough dressing down. Mum was shocked and refuted the lie. She never forgave Stan for what she regarded as a new low in her assessment of him. The Wolseley was repaired but was soon replaced by a Morris Oxford utility. It had a bench seat in front but served as the family vehicle thereafter, kids in the back, of course.
The Young Farmers Organisation had a simple philosophy designed to promote the three concepts of ‘Agriculture, Culture and Social’. A balanced program designed by the education department for young rural men and women. There were many clubs throughout the state, all supervised by carefully selected regional managers. I joined the Dalyston club which was part of the Western Port District Council supervised by Mr. Bob Morgan. The meetings were run according to correct meeting procedures by the elected office bearers, supported in turn by Mr. Morgan and those parents, like my mother and others, who provided adult guidance.
We had a great time running a wide range of activities including, parties, dances, annual balls, debating teams, public speaking, agricultural trials and radio broadcasts. Despite our aim to be balanced in our program, we proved far more adept with the social aspects of it. Almost everything the club organised was well attended and always concluded with a sumptuous supper provided by the parents. There were a number of other clubs in the region and our social events, like dances and the annual balls, were attended by hundreds, each club supporting the others. The opportunity to meet a wide range of people was exploited by all.
When Bill Haley hit the airways with ‘Rock Around the Clock’, it started a revolution of both sound and lifestyle. Closely followed by Buddy Holly and Elvis, this intoxicating music had an incendiary effect on the teenagers of the time. The Young Farmer dances became alive with rock’n roll which went on into the small hours. A number of parents allowed our Young Farmers Club to use their homes for parties but none were more hospitable than Mr and Mrs Stuart Hollins of Dalyston who renovated their home with open hospitality in mind. The parties we held there were amazing for they had great sound and the space to dance. Mrs Hollins did express wonder as to how so many bottles managed to be in the garden the next day. Overall they were tolerant and felt, I believe, it was better to have us, including their two sons and a daughter, under some sort of supervision than none. It was a happy time and I was grateful.
All these events were happening for the most part at night because I worked at the factory seven days a week through the flush and for much of the season. I had been 15 when I had started at the Glen Forbes factory. By now I was 16, beyond parental control. Cheese making was hard and heavy work with no distinction made between what was done by a man or a boy, it was all the same to management. I was doing a man’s work so I spent my spare time and money in pursuit of a good time to distract myself. While on the surface I was apparently happy, inwardly I craved the guidance and intervention of a stronger hand because I knew I was wasting time that might otherwise have led to a productive, stimulating career. Like my fellow workers at the factory, we were resentful of the indifference and the poor conditions but opportunities were limited due to our lack of education and in my case, the need to be financially independent.
Another mutual friend of Roger and I was Ken McKenzie. Ken was about 10 years older than us and owned a taxi he ran in the bayside suburb of Hampton. He also owned a large beautifully kept Jaguar in which he frequently turned up at many local dances because his family lived in Grantville. Between dances we would retire to the car for refreshments and, as it happened, Ken always had a boot full. His generosity seemed to know no bounds. Thus began a ritual that went on for years and only ceased when girlfriends were able to provide more compelling entertainment. Long after we had cars of our own we would take girls home and then meet at different agreed locations to party on through the night. Ken even had a PA sound system in the boot of his car. The usual six to ten of us had a great time with music while drinking.
One Sunday morning Mum came in to see me as I was recovering from such a night. She knew when I had drunk too much because I was unable to start the motorbike when I returned from Roger’s place. They lived so high on the hill I could roll from there down the gorge to our gate and leave the bike lying on the side of the road. This morning she sat on my bed in tears, ‘You will become a drunk like your Grandfather,’ she said, and then asked who I had been with. I replied, ‘I was with Ken.’ She sniffed back a tear and offered the most amazing observation, ‘Ken,’ she alleged, ‘is employed by Carlton and United to recruit new drinkers.’
In about 1957, during the slow time of autumn, Ken, Rochfort Abrahamson (known as Tex) and I drove to Queensland in the Jaguar, sleeping at night in makeshift camps on the side of the road. The holiday was an eye opener for unsophisticated country boys such as us. We called into the new development of Surfers Paradise before arriving in Brisbane. I recall the steam train we caught at Roma Street to visit the beach at Sandgate. Overall it was a wonderful, informative time and Ken bore most of the cost.
By 1958, I was entertaining all manner of different career choices but none created more angst than my attempt to join the Navy. In response to an advertisement, I applied for the position of trainee engine mechanic and was invited for assessment at the centre in Queens Road, St Kilda. I passed the physical examination and was then assessed for aptitude before finally having a psychological exam in which I was asked, ‘How do you think you will manage the discipline?’ I hesitated on this at some length, but, was finally passed and invited to sign on for nine years. I was not yet eighteen and I had to obtain parental consent. Mum refused to sign and an almighty argument ensued. She refused to sign because she felt I could do better and maintained I would never manage the nine years. My protestations were ignored and slowly the opportunity passed. Then I saw an advertisement offering the opportunity to train as a herd tester. I applied and was accepted. During my holidays, I attended the three week training program for herd testing at the Burnley Horticultural College
