Pah's Brother

Pah's one and only sibling is his younger brother Barry. He is a retired Anglican bishop. He was the Bishop of the Riverina Diocese from 1972 to 1992. He has a wonderfully deep voice and a gentle and kind manner. He has kindly shared some of his memories of his childhood.

"Your requests have stirred up my little grey cells considerably, and you might as a result get more than you have bargained for. But then, you can make use of whatever you like, while I can amuse myself with memories, and a little bit of research maybe. In responding to your three questions, I shall probably do so in series, based on localities, such as The Bun, The Oaks, Rossmoyne, and then Toowoomba, but we shall see.

In the year 1906 Charles Town brought his family from where they had lived in Boort, in northern Victoria, to live on land that had been opened up for closer settlement in the northern Darling Downs, Queensland. Jimbour Station was being broken up into farms called selections; the people who took them up were called Selectors. Charles Town's selection was of 640 acres of rich black alluvial soil, on which he was to build a house to be called 'The Oaks'. It was 2 and a half miles north of the village of Kaimkillenbun, usually referred to as 'The Bun'. He was then 41 years old, and his wife Winifred was 39. They had five children - Geoffrey Charles (always called Jack), Myrtle, Edith, Muriel, and Dorothy, their youngest, then aged three. A second son, Keith, was born to them later on.

They travelled up partly by ship, and by train, for Kaimkillenbun was on a branch railway line from Dalby to Bell. The new selectors brought dairy herds; milking sheds and yards were soon built, and in our district the milk was separated into cream and skim milk. (Other districts supplied cheese factories.) The cream was put in 8 or 10 gallon cans, and sent by rail to a Butter Factory in Dalby. This was a co-operative enterprise, owned by the farmers themselves. Typical of the farms roundabout, The Oaks added a small piggery, cultivated land for wheat, oats and barley (about 100 acres), and there was a small paddock of lucerne, which was baled and stored in a large hay shed. The farm was watered by an arm of the Myall Creek, a tributary of the Condamine River, which in turn is part of the Murray/Darling River system.

I recall a wooden house with verandahs on three sides, built close to the creek. The lav. (lavatory, toilet) was a few yards away close to the creekbank. There was a large shed, or barn, a small silo; the wood-heap was between house and shed, and close to the milking shed there was a small building which housed farm machinery, and had an annexe which was used as a smithy, with anvil and forge. The herd of cows was small by today's standards, they were Australian Illawarra Shorthords, useful for both milk and beef. Dairying provided the chief product of the farm, providing regular earnings. The separated milk was fed to pigs, which were sold from time to time at pig sales. There were horses and dogs for mustering the cows for milking, and horses were for riding when visiting the Bun, or friends. I remember travelling with my grandmother in her one-horse sulky to visit family and friends - my job being to open the many gates on the way. Some time ago I wrote a bit of doggerel about that.

The Recipe

A horse and sulky on a country road,

My grandma on a visit, with her load

Of pots of jam, and greens, and generous heart,

Sponge cake, high risen, product of her art:

And I, a little boy of eight

For company, and to open up the gate.

With half an ear I heard the women talk.

New babies on the way, new neighbour folk

(They must be well to do, they have a car.)

I'm knitting bootees now for Jenny Barr.

I love your scones, dear Mrs. T.

Oh, would you like to have my recipe?

There always was a recipe, on scrap

Of paper in the bag upon her lap.

Large bag, large lap, to comfort and bring joy

To lonely farmers' wives and one small boy.

And then the goodbye kiss, the sun

Was telling us the cows were coming in.

My grandma died. And then, (the hour seemed late),

She found herself before another gate.

"Woman", said Peter, awful with his key,

"The Master says, 'What have you done for me?'"

And she was flustered, what to say?

Would she depart, or would they let her stay?

"Tell me", he said, "now what have you to give

To him who died for you that you might live?"

She wept and wept, for she could only stand

With nothing but that bag, still in her hand.

"I have a pot of jam", sobbed she,

"That's all, unless He'd like to have a recipe."

And while she stood and felt her spirit flag,

St. Peter smiled, and said to her, "That bag

Reminds me of a boy with fish and bread.

The Master blessed that gift and many fed.

Come, join that little boy",

The Master says, "and enter into joy".

On the farm there were also some sheep, and from time to time one would be slaughtered for mutton. There were fowls, to provide eggs and an occasional feast; vegetables were grown for the table, and I recall a mulberry tree, useful for staining the face in games of Cowboys and Indians. There was much home cooking, cakes, jams, scones, biscuits, so that morning and afternoon teas were well provided for. There was a hand-operated churn, for turning cream into butter, mainly used by our grandmother, but sometimes Keith and I were asked to turn the handle, which we did until our small arms ached, and the cream never seemed to turn.

Thinking of Cowboys and Indians, I am reminded that there was hardly any sign of the original, aboriginal inhabitants in the area, during the 30s anyhow, apart from the name of the village itself, derived I think from Cumkillabah - there were various spellings. Its meaning, according to the School Anniversary book, is 'Opened the mouth with a finger'.

To the north of the farm was the outline of the Bunya Mountains, about 30 miles away, part of the Great Dividing Range. The Bunya road between the Bun and the hills passed our farm gate. In the early days the cows were milked by hand. There were simple ploughs and other farm machinery, which were drawn by big draught horses. Farming then was labour intensive, and so a large family was an advantage. Many children helped with milking and other chores before and after school.

As the years passed, The Oaks and the farms round about began to be mechanised. The draught horses were superseded by tractors; and larger and more efficient ploughs, combines (for planting seed), harvesters or headers became the norm. At The Oaks hand milking was replaced by machines. I recall the Lister Diesel single cylinder engine with its whirring flywheel, and distinctive irregular rhythm, the sound of which lives in my memory. This engine provided power for the milking machines and the separator.

Milking, morning and night, was a chore, but on the whole, a pleasant one. The cows had particular personalities, all had names, most of them were placid by nature, happy to exit the bail after giving up their milk. I remember seeing our mother feeding the calves (poddies), enticing them with fingers to suck, and leading them down to the bucket of milk, from which they soon learned to drink.

My brother Keith and I were not regular labourers in the cowyard, but would play there, learning to balance walking around the top rails of the fence, sometimes ushering a cow into thebail for milking. Our mother deliberately kept us back from this work, knowing that our future could not be on a farm, for we had no such inheritance to look forward to.

In 1909 a State Primary School was established in the Bun. Families were at first consulted as to their interest and need for a school for their children, and the school was built and began service with 29 pupils; ArthurJohn Stevenson being first Head Teacher. Our Aunt Muriel was enrolled onthe first day, our mother Dorothy Winifred, being only six, followed with enrolment on the second day. Charles Town was a member of the first school committee. In 1911 Mr. Stevenson was replaced by William Robert Perry. When World War 1 began he joined the AIF and served overseas. On his return he married Myrtle Town and became our Uncle Will. The names of the children reflect those of the selector families, as well as other families who lived in the village, who included postmaster, baker, butcher, storekeeper, stationmaster and railway workers, and hotel keeper. There was a rather eccentric loner too, Neil Beard, who had a smithy, near to the school. The farmers were a mixed lot, with varying skills. Charles Hurford, who took up Roscommon, was a bush carpenter. His skills at building houses, yards, and sheds were very much in demand. He married my Aunt Edith, and they had a large family, including Richard, Robert, Winnie, Gladys, Nell, Myrtle, Joan and Warwick or Warry, who was Mongoloid. Up the road from The Oaks lived the Skerman family. That brilliant familyproduced at least one Professor at University, a noted scientist,(microbiologist I think), and two of the men who stayed on the land became noted for leadership in Agricultural Science and the practical applications thereof.

Not many people living in that area in those days were well-educated. Grandfather Town left school at the age of 9 to go droving. Secondary education was fairly rare. Yet there was great eagerness to learn. For many years Grandfather Town subscribed to the Sydney Bulletin, which was a weekly, providing a Red Page, featuring and promoting Australian poetry and literature, lots of clever cartoons both humorous and political, political comment, news and other articles. The Bulletin was a great educational tool for country people, and it was supplemented by books. Many of the people read widely. Our mother owned a set of all Charles Dickens' works, read avidly so that Peggotty and Mr. McCawber and Mr. Pickwick and Scrooge were familiar characters whom we knew from her conversation, as well as reading many of the books myself while in Primary School. The Oaks even had a piano. Our mother learned to play it, being taught by nuns at Dalby, (with some certificates to prove it), so that she was in some demand as accompaniste, and organist at Church. I recall that during the1930s we had a gramophone, wound up by hand, with records of the popular songs of the time, Stephen Foster, Gilbert and Sullivan, Gladys Moncrieff and even Nellie Melba. Grandfather didn't like sopranos and their screeching. I played those records often. Then later came radio, and doors opened to a wider world.

The community of the Bun built a hall which was called the School of Arts. It contained a Lending Library, and various functions were held there, including regular dances (violin and accordion) - the girls sitting aroundthe walls and the boys standing near the door, trying to pluck up courage to approach a girl and ask her to dance. I recall a childhood memory of a revue in that hall, and the row of chorus girls doing a rather legs-up routine. They were pretty much up to date at the Bun. (To be continued.....)"