I grew up in sugar country. A crushing mill below
1956
Stratford (Not on Avon)
1956 was a rather good year for me. I was 13 and in the final year of primary school. The family moved to Cairns from Innisfail half way through the year. It was just after my father's father (Jack Ray) had died and we went to live in the house formerly rented by him.
It was a half-house at Stratford, an outer suburb of Cairns. We were on the main road and a railway line ran on the other side of the road.
It was in the days of rent control and Jack had been given a controlled rent that was very cheap. The rules at that time allowed a controlled rent tobe inherited by the children so my father took advantage of that. He thought he would get work more easily in Cairns, so it was a good opportunity for him
Shortly after we moved I got on the bus from Stratford one morning and found my new school by myself. My mother or father did not go along to help enrol me. I did not think much of it at the time but in retrospect I see it as another example of my mother's indolence. Though I suppose I was an independent little bugger
After that I went to school on the rail motor, which had a stop conveniently over the road from where I lived. It was one of the old red ones and had another stop a short walk from the school in Sheridan St
Wonderful old things. I can still hear the growl of their motors -- probably AEC Diesels
As a result of the move to Jack's old house, I inherited a store of old children's books which I promptly set out to read. I remember a nursery rhyme in one of them: "Our greatest battleship the Hood is made of iron, steel and wood". No wonder the sinking of H.M.S. Hood by one salvo from the Bismarck in the early phases of World War Two made such an impression. (H.M.S. Hood was actually a battle cruiser, of course, which explains why it was sunk so easily).
HMS Hood
Some of the books even predated World War I. They were mostly books given as presents or won at Sunday school to the children of my father's family. After I left home, my mother gave them all away! All the maps of the world in them did of course show vast splashes of red. I wonder how many people in future will know what that signified?
So I got strong doses of Victorian ideas from those books. When they were written such ideas were still current. I still to this day agree with most of them (such as the distinction between the deserving and undeserving poor).
Another thing left at the Stratford (Cairns) house was an old wooden windup gramophone with lots of old popular 78s (78 r.p.m. records). No pictures of the actual family gramophone have survived but the one below is very similar
The spring that drove it had a habit of breaking, unfortunately. After that I rotated the records with my finger. It was my introduction to music of various sorts but the record I particularly remember was "Florrie Forde's Old Time Medley" -- songs from about a century ago.
By some miracle there is a video of her online singing exactly the songs I remember: The Lassie from Lancashire; Has Anybody Here Seen Kelly?; Down at the Old Bull and Bush etc. I think they would still have a broad appeal today. See below
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oYWygJSetbA
There were also wrecks of various old pushbikes left behind under the (low set) house and, being a clever kid, I used parts from them them to create a single "new" bike. I think my father was rather impressed. I rode it to school after that and seem to recollect that my father also rode it to work for a time. I painted it maroon.
My cleverness extended to being the home handyman. I used to fix the family toaster, the family electric jug and the house fuses, all of which would "blow" from time to time. I knew only what I could see however and had no formal knowledge of electricity. So one day I replaced a house fuse with wire that was too thick -- which let through too much current. It "blew the pole" outside the house -- requiring a a call from the CREB to fix it. My father felt embarrassed by that and started to speak aggressively towards me. My mother however said to him: "At least John does things around the house. You do nothing". It was very crushing and reduced him to silence
The toilet arrangements there were old-style, with "thunder boxes" that had to be emptied once a week. A "honey cart" used to come along early in the morning and the "dunny-man" would come into the back yard to exchange the full receptacle with a clean one. Since it was very early in the day when the light was poor, there was some possibility of the dunny-man tripping over any obstacles left his way -- such as children's toys. So I remember my mother going around the yard the evening before making sure there was nothing there to trip the dunny-man up. A wise precaution.
And then there is the episode with "Rex", the dog. Rex was a "mung" (mixed breed) with a fair bit of German Shepherd in him who just wandered into our place one day. My mother fed him, so he stayed. He was covered in ticks but they didn't seem to bother him. He seemed to have a particular affection for Christopher, my little brother, who was around one-year old at the time. A much remembered occasion is when my mother was telling Christopher off for something he had done. Rex got up and placed himself between Christopher and his mother. He was protecting him from her. Pretty good for a "mung"
I read a bit of the works of Karl Marx at the local "School of Arts" library around this time and occasionally talked about what I had read. For this reason I was sometimes at that time called "Commo John".
At the end of the year I did my "Scholarship" exam, necessary for entry into High School. I got an 80% mark overall. I seem to recollect that that was seen as a very good result at the time. To "pass your Scholarship" was a big deal back then and you only needed to get 50% or more to pass.
"Bluey" Ray
My father Frank Ray in retirement
My father's real name was Frank Edward Ray but only my mother and his kids called him "Frank". To everyone else he was "Blue" or "Bluey" -- because he had red hair -- a feat of logic that you may have to be British or Australian to understand.
His religion was work -- hard manual work -- and he did that throughout his life. He started out cutting down forest trees for the sawmills -- with an AXE and crosscut saw -- long before chainsaws were heard of. And he also was a cane-cutter in his younger days. He would come home "as black as a n*gger" from that work -- as sugarcane was burnt before harvesting in those days,
But in his later years be worked in the tallow rendering section of the Queerah meatworks outside Cairns. He used his very developed biceps to move around 44 gallon of drums of tallow -- a job in which he seemed to be much appreciated by his employers. And if you have ever tried to move a 44 gallon drum of anything (usually motor fuel) you will know how heavy they are. And when filled with a dense material like tallow (rendered-down animal fat) they are REALLY heavy. But he would have enjoyed that challenge.
I also remember him while we were at Stratford sharpening and "setting" his crosscut saws -- something that was part of his trade as a "timber feller" (lumberjack). He would be out in the bush during the week and come home for the weekend. And that was saw sharpening time.
He also had an old .22 rifle. He said that where he was camped out in the bush he could hear crocodiles roaring -- so he was definitely wary of them. What good a .22 would do in an encounter with a croc I do not know. If you were a good shot it might help, I suppose. But I remember him buying bullets off "Thompson" (the Stratford store keeper) as a prelude to a trip.
And Frank was a "king hitter". The biceps developed through many years working as an axeman were very handy for flattening anybody who disrespected him. He once hit a man so hard that he broke his hand. He did have a short temper. I remember his flashing blue eyes when he was annoyed. Though he never laid a finger on any of his family and was a real gentleman unless provoked. How can eyes flash? I don't know. But his did somehow.
I am sad that my father is no longer among us. He was a man of his time but was perhaps the better man for that.
Our sojourn at Stratford ended when my father bought a house at 308 Mulgrave Rd, formerly owned by John Timbs, who still lived nearby
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E.&O.E.
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