Sepia Saturday: Strolling in the City

Posted on 10 July, 2016 by cassmob

This week’s Sepia Saturday theme was a “gimme”. I’ve had this photo strip for ages but have never used it because I felt it made my grandfather look a little gormless.

However it’s a perfect match this week, so here is Dinny strolling through Brisbane city probably in the 1920s or 1930s (the car would be a clue for some, but not me). I can’t even pick which street he’s in, but there’s a barber pole in the background, so perhaps it was George St. Perhaps he’d even been to have a haircut himself and was feeling pretty spiffy.

He’s got one thumb tucked into his waistcoast pocket and his hat angled so he keeps the sun off his face, but then he has to tip his head to see….not so wise Grandad. I don’t think he’s coming from work as he looks dressed for the day out, not in railway attire, though as a guard he would have been more smartly dressed than in some other roles.

Looking at his shadows he’s got it falling straight behind him, so I’m thinking he’s walking on an north-south street, so perhaps it is George St down near Roma Street station. (What do you think of my directional theory?) With this in mind, I went searching our good friend Trove for images of George Street, Brisbane circa 1920 and, by jove, I do believe she’s got it!

Harvey, J. H. (John Henry) 1921, George Street, Brisbane looking south, June 1921 [picture] Out of copyright.

Can you see the barber’s poles and the verandah on the building opposite? Thanks to the magnificent old sandstone buildings, which remarkably for Brisbane, still stand, I know exactly where this is. The lady in the image is crossing the street to the lane which runs behind where Alan & Stark’s shop was, between Albert and George Streets (patriotic lot, with our CBD streets named for royalty!)

Unidentified 1935, View of Tritton’s furniture shop on George Street, Brisbane, ca. 1935, John Oxley Library, State Library of Queensland. Out of copyright.

Grandad would have been walking out of the frame on the bottom right of this image heading towards Roma Street Station. If my memory serves me correctly, the old Trittons furniture store was on the right hand side before the barber’s. And above I’ve found an image from Trove which confirms my theory, and we now know the barber/hairdresser was a T McMahon.

Unidentified 1878, Street map of the city of Brisbane, Queensland, 1878, John Oxley Library, State Library of Queensland. (extract). The red dot is my estimate of the location of the photo.

He had a kind heart, my granddad, so perhaps he bought the photo just to help the street photographer out, perhaps he was a fellow Digger trying to make ends meet. I know my grandparents had a camera at home, or among the extended family, because I’ve got quite a lot of photos from the 1920s/30s among their collection.

Why not stroll over to see where other Sepians are off to this week? I wonder if they got caught up in the search like I did when I found myself taking several detours into Trove…I left my mental wanderings as a breadcrumb trail.

Save

Sepia Saturday 258: Meeting the GI Cousin in Sydney WWII

Posted on 13 December, 2014 by cassmob

This photo gave me an instant connection to some from my 3rd cousin’s photo albums. This particular cousin, Nora, has provided me with so much information over the years: old histories, photos of my Kunkel ancestors and our mutual O’Brien relatives. I owe her an enormous debt in terms of what she’s given to my research, which is why I asked her to launch my Kunkel family history book.

Cousins meeting at Circular Quay, Sydney. The American with glasses is not a relation. The three on the left are 1st cousins, once removed to the American on the right and his first cousin Nellie Garvey.

During World War II, many American soldiers were stationed in Australia, and to be honest they weren’t all that popular with the Aussie men who were left behind for whatever reason: the snapshot phrase was that they were “overpaid, oversexed and over here“…a case of jealousy I fear. The girls were not so reluctant to meet these men, and many married and became War Brides, relocating to the United States after the war, some successfully and some not so much. I think the American GIs had rather more finesse when it came to women than the rather blunt Aussie style.

Two cousins meet: John Garvey (USA) and Reg Gill (Sydney).

However in some cases this wasn’t all about the whole “boy meets girl” story, it was about cousins meeting cousins from across the world. This particular branch of the O’Brien family descended from Honora Garvey nee O’Brien from Bodyke County Clare, one of my Mary (O’Brien) Kunkel’s siblings who remained in Ireland. However Honora’s children were, and are, part of the great Irish diaspora with some moving to the States and some moving to Australia. I wonder why, and how, they came to the conclusion regarding which place to choose. No doubt the increasing literacy of the Irish population assisted this branch of the family to keep in touch over the miles and the years and across vast distances.

The Sydney siblings, Nora, Kevin and Marie with their aunty Nellie (in the hat). I like the war bonds notice on the building. I was intrigued that Marie was the only woman wearing gloves as I’d have expected the to be de rigeur in this era. Those 1940s shoes were really not glamorous. I can’t quite figure out what Nora is carrying…is it just a purse?

The war provided a chance for the cousins to meet. On reflection it seems possible these photos were probably taken by the street photographers that have been the topic of blog posts lately…it just hadn’t occurred to me…we do tend to assume that cameras were as readily available then as they are today. On the other side of the Pacific, two other Aussie cousins were being welcomed by the American branches as they commenced their WWII Air Force service. These connections, many years after their grandmother, Honora Garvey, had died, reinforced the kinship links.

No one remembers what this guy’s name was…will anyone recognise him I wonder?

So today we have a bunch of cousins and a ring-in GI mate, whose name is no longer recorded…I wonder if anyone will recognise him? Why not march over to see what other Sepians have made of this week’s prompt? And because I’ve found an image among Nora’s collection that suits last week’s image very well I’m going to post it here as well – I’d forgotten all about it.

The reverse says “Michael Keane and friend” circa 1900s. He would also have been 1st cousin to John Garvey in the photos above. Their chaps look as woolly as the dog in the featured image.

Sepia Saturday: Military Mateship

Posted on 16 November, 2014 by cassmob

This week’s Sepia Saturday evoked memories of war, rather than romance and frivolity – perhaps I just can’t imagine needing or wanting to be carried across a stream. I feel like telling her “just take off your boots and hitch up your skirts, for heaven’s sake, you wuss!”.

In a week in which we remember the effects of war, this image made me think of the care, commitment and courage soldiers give to each other. It is inter-personal rather than inter-national. So here is my photo-journalism response to the topic, derived from images found on Trove.

French soldier carrying a wounded man through the trenches, Gallipoli http://trove.nla.gov.au/work/165156560

http://trove.nla.gov.au/work/165022664

30 July 1943, Corporal Leslie (Bull) Allen MM, aged 26 of Ballarat, Victoria, carrying out an injured American soldier, one of 12 he retrieved. He was awarded the US Silver Star and had already received his Military Medal (MM) on 7 February 1943, at Crystal Creek, Wau. Negative by G Short, copyright expired. Mt Tambo, New Guinea. AWM image 015515

Australian troops moved in behind Matilda tanks for a dawn attack on the Japanese held village of Sattelberg. A wounded soldier is carried back to a dressing station on the shoulders of a soldier. http://trove.nla.gov.au/work/165056323

Bearers (called Fuzzy Wuzzy angels) carrying a wounded soldier up a steep, muddy slope, Papua.

Bearers carrying a wounded soldier up a steep, muddy slope, Papua. http://trove.nla.gov.au/work/165191251. The local bearers earned the recognition of being called Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels because of their work evacuating wounded men through the most horrendous, mountainous terrain of Papua New Guinea.

wo members of the 3rd Battalion, The Royal Australian Regiment (3RAR), carry a wounded soldier from the Republic of Korea (ROK) Army along a snow-covered track towards a medical aid post. http://trove.nla.gov.au/work/165106038

Two members of the 3rd Battalion, The Royal Australian Regiment (3RAR), carry a wounded soldier from the Republic of Korea (ROK) Army along a snow-covered track towards a medical aid post. http://trove.nla.gov.au/work/165106038

Phnom Penh, Cambodia, 1971. Australian cameraman Neil Davis carrying a wounded Cambodian soldier out of action. http://trove.nla.gov.au/work/165129872 Copyright unknown.

The courage and humanity of these men for their mates is sobering and deserves respect. Greater love has no man….

Here are some recent photos which commemorate similar acts of selflessness.

The Cobbers Memorial at Fromelles 2014.

Part of the Tarihe Saygi (Respect for History) monument at Esceabat, (Gallipoli Peninsula) Turkey.

Sepia Saturday: Colonial Fishing Days

Posted on 8 November, 2014 by cassmob

This Sepia Saturday has three young men relaxing at their leisure on the creek bank after a spot of fishing with their flimsy fishing rods. It brought to mind many similar scenes that would have occurred in colonial Queensland beside creeks and waterways throughout the countryside. I could well imagine my Kunkel great-grandparents, and perhaps their children, dropping a line into the Fifteen Mile Creek which bordered the property owned by George and Mary Kunkel at Murphy’s Creek.

But those images exist only in my imagination, whereas this real-life image is a more confronting, and to my mind, less pleasant aspect of colonial life. Once again we have a fishing trio with a 517 pound (about 234kgs) giant grouper which had been caught circa 1900-1910 by our fishermen, Frank Anderson and Jack Kinnon snr. The battle was uneven as they were using a tailor-made hook and a chain “line” wrapped around a 44 gallon drum. The fish is about 5.5ft (167cms) so it would have been very old, and was almost certainly swimming in the waters off Queensland well before the arrival of the white man. It makes me want to weep every time I look at this photo, and yet it’s also the story of our colony. How ironic that the giant grouper is the aquatic emblem of Queensland and how unsurprising that it is a threatened species.

As an antidote to the imbalance of the fish vs men image, let me tell you the tale of a young lad, Jack Kinnon jnr, fishing with his grandmother, Bridget Connors (daughter of George and Mary Kunkel). I included this passage in my book Grassroots Queenslanders: the Kunkel Story.

This is Bridget Connors sitting on the running board of her car. I can imagine her with the same contented expression sitting by the pond fishing.

This is Bridget Connors sitting on the running board of their car. I can imagine her with the same contented expression sitting by the pond fishing.

At the time there was a butter factory on the Mary River where it ran through Tiaro. The buttermilk run-off from the factory flowed into a small pond of the river with which Bridget was very familiar. She knew the mullet loved to come and feed on the buttermilk and get fat. So off they’d go, the old lady and the young boy, with their bamboo rods, cork floats and tiny hooks with bread threaded on for bait. They’d sit by the pond quietly waiting for the fish to bite and when the float disappeared below the water they’d reel in their catch of the day, a plump mullet. Bridget got a great thrill from catching the fish but Jack’s pleasure was diminished slightly by the need to scale and clean the fish.

Are you feeling relaxed now? Why not drop your fishing line and wander off to see where other Sepians went fishing this weekend.

Sepia Saturday: Mr & Mrs McSherry – Diamond Jubilee 1941

Posted on 1 November, 2014 by cassmob

This week’s Sepia Saturday image celebrates the 50^th anniversary of Dollinger Steel of Beaumont, Texas. We all know 50^th events are important ones, whether they’re wedding or business anniversaries, or just birthdays. It has to be said that 60^th anniversaries are even rarer, especially of weddings as it takes a youthful marriage and two to tango to a ripe old age.

My great-grandparents, Peter and Mary McSherry, reached this remarkable milestone in 1941, and it was widely reported in various newspapers, boldly captioned “Diamond Jubilee” Thanks to the news stories we know that “The diamond jubilee was celebrated with a luncheon party at the home of Mr. and Mrs. McSherry, Alma-street, when relatives and friends were entertained. Rev. Father D. L. Murtagh (an old friend of the family) presided, and proposed the toast of the jubilarians. Rev. Father D. Keneally added his congratulations and good wishes”[i]. Not to be greedy, but it would have been wonderful to know just a little more about the day and who was there, and perhaps if they were given any gifts. One omission which has only just occurred to me is that Peter’s siblings have not been mentioned, though at least one was certainly still alive. There’s some history of family feuding over the decades, so perhaps that was at the bottom of it.

My McSherry great-grandparents and some of their children, kindly provided to me by a cousin. My grandfather, James Joseph McSherry is on the left. I have found the caption which was sent with the photo and I’ve added the women’s surnames: left to right standing: Jim, Elizabeth (Lil) Bayliss, Ellen (Ellie) Quinn, John, Mary McSherry, David, Bridget (Bridie) Moran, Peter jnr. Sitting: Annie Jacobson, Margaret McSherry, Peter snr, Agnes Jacobson.

I’ve been fortunate enough to obtain a photo from a cousin of the family gathered on the day. It took me a while to twig that in fact some of them had been “photoshopped” in, probably with earlier photos stuck on to the original. Although all their surviving six daughters and four sons were listed by name, obviously not all had been able to attend. If you look closely you’ll see different flooring on the left, and also quite different dress styles. The gentleman on the left is my grandfather, Peter & Mary’s second eldest child. Standing next to him is, I believe, his sister, Elizabeth Bayliss, wife of Frank Herbert Bayliss.

At a guess I’d say the photo of Grandad may have been taken at a wedding, as to my mind he has his arm positioned as if he’s giving a young woman his arm. It may have been my aunty Mary’s wedding in 1939 or less likely, his sister Mary Ellen’s wedding in 1913. Grandad may also not have had the money to attend the jubilee event, as only a few months later his whole family would move from Townsville to Brisbane and he would commence work at the Ipswich Railway Workshops. His sister Elizabeth may well not have been able to attend either, given she was living “out bush” on Acacia Downs station (property/large farm/ranch). Addendum: see Bev’s comment below, Annie Jacobson seated on the far left was also added into the picture). Although these three were living some distance away, I suspect the real reason for their absence may have been that they were personae non grata within the family.

The newspapers have been very accurate in their reporting of the McSherry couple’s life. Peter McSherry and Mary Callaghan were married on 27 February 1881 at St Michael’s Catholic Church in Gorey Wexford, where I was able to see their entry in the marriage register over a hundred years later, in 1989.

The ‘Almora’, 2000 ton ship. Commanded in 1883 by Captain Franks. Carried immigrants from Plymouth to ports in Queensland. oai:bishop.slq.qld.gov.au:78321

Peter’s parents and siblings all emigrated to Australia in 1883, perhaps drawn by the expansion of the railway in Queensland. However Mary was pregnant at the time so their departure didn’t coincide with the rest of the family’s migration and perhaps they were also waiting on remittances from the rest of the family. When my grandfather, James Joseph, was just an infant, this little family also set forth from Plymouth on 12 March 1884, heading for Queensland. They arrived in Rockhampton a speedy 49 days later.

This railway family had a busy time living and working through western and northern Queensland: “Mr McSherry Joined the Railway Department Immediately. His work took him to the west, and he lived for some years at Longreach and various western towns. He became lines Inspector in the Townsville division, also at Hughenden, and was appointed chief Inspector at Townsville in 1911. In 1919 be was transferred to Rockhampton as chief inspector and retired in October, 1930, at the age of 69”.

Peter and Mary’s sons and daughters are all listed by name and place, showing how they were scattered around Queensland: “The sons are Messrs James (Townsville), David (Rockhampton), John (Morella), and Peter (Emerald). The daughters are Mrs J. H. Moran (Charters Towers), Mrs A. Jacobsen (Townsville), Mrs E. Quinn (Rockhampton), Mrs F. H. Bayliss (Acacia Downs, Aramac), Mrs O C Jacobsen (Ayr) and Miss Margaret McSherry (Rockhampton)”.

The news stories report that the couple had 10 surviving children of their 13, but in fact Mary had given birth to 15 children, including two sets of twins, one genetic inheritance I’m certainly glad didn’t come down to me! One set of twins died soon after birth in late 1896/early 1897 and presumably these are the two who weren’t counted in the tally. Three others, including one of the other twins also died very young. Imagine how devastating this must have been for them, though perhaps their strong faith helped them through it. Before Peter died, however further tragedy would strike when he accidentally killed their daughter Margaret when leaving for morning Mass.

At the time of their jubilee, the couple had 25 grandchildren, and eight great-grandchildren though at least four more were born afterwards. As far as I know, Peter and Mary McSherry saw none of their great-grandchildren from my branch of the family, and had rarely seen their grandchildren.

Peter McSherry’s death on 25 February 1949 cut short their long marriage just two days before they could celebrate their 68^th anniversary…just imagine the shared history.

I wonder how many couples manage such marital longevity? My Kunkel-O’Brien 2xgreat grandparents reached 58 years 6 months and my own parents came within cooee of 60 years, thanks to being married youngish and inheriting those longevity genes.

None of my other ancestors have come close to the McSherry diamond jubilee standard. How have your ancestors stacked up in the compatibility and longevity stakes?

I wonder how other Sepians celebrated anniversaries or gatherings this week…why not go over and join the party?

This is a map of Queensland, showing the places mentioned in the McSherry story. See below for some sense of distance.

Distances and a sense of scale:

Townsville to Rockhampton is 721kms

Longreach to Rockhampton is 687 kms

Hughenden to Townsville is a cruisy 385 kms

Hughenden to Rockhampton is 986 kms

Darwin (where I live) to Rockhampton is 2934 kms and today would be a solid two day drive at the speed limit.

References:

Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton, Qld : 1878 – 1954), Friday 7 March 1941, page 3 http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article56085296

Rockhampton Diocese (1941, March 6). The Catholic Press (Sydney, NSW: 1895-1942), page 19. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article106424907.

The Central Queensland Herald (Rockhampton, Qld: 1930 – 1956), Thursday 13 March 1941, page 27 http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article76252039

Townsville Daily Bulletin (Qld : 1885 – 1954), Thursday 3 April 1941, page 6. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article61488169

————–

[i] Rockhampton Diocese (1941, March 6). The Catholic Press (Sydney, NSW: 1895-1942), page 19. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article106424907.

Sepia Saturday 251: Qld Civil Liberties in the 60s

Posted on 24 October, 2014 by cassmob

As happens sometimes with a Sepia Saturday prompt, I immediately thought “how can I write on this?”… “I’ve got nothing in my family history that fits”. Turning to Trove, the Aussie genealogists’ friend, I searched for “police + chemist”. Did you notice there was a chemist’s shop in the background of the featured image?

Unidentified (1950). Police officer directing traffic on George Street, Brisbane, 1950. John Oxley Library, State Library of Queensland

So far, so good. I found one in my home town in Brisbane for when I was a small girl. There was the policeman directing traffic on the corner of George St. Still this didn’t quite satisfy me so I kept hunting and found this one of a 1966 protest in Brisbane against conscription.

Garner, Grahame Onlookers on buildings during the Youth Campaign against Conscription, Brisbane, Australia. Garner, Grahame, 1966-03-24.

Onlookers on buildings during the Youth Campaign against Conscription, Brisbane, Australia. Garner, Grahame, 1966-03-24. Corner of Queen and Albert streets. http://trove.nla.gov.au/work/191086908

Immediately my story fell into place. Strangely there are some similarities to Kristin’s Sepia Saturday story on Finding Eliza. Of course much of this is personal anecdote reflecting my own experience, and Dad’s, and others may well have different perspectives.

Conscription, Vietnam and the Birthday Ballot

Back in the bad old days of Queensland, the state was held on a tight rein by the government, irrespective of which political party was in power. This was particularly the case in my teenage years when the rights and wrongs of the Vietnam War were hotly debated by students in particular. After all, they did have a vested interest, since young men aged 20 automatically went into a birthday ballot which decided whether they would be conscripted and then go off to war. Official sites, including the Australian War Memorial, state the crunch-point was for 20 year olds yet we have always believed it to be 18 so perhaps it was just the anxiety of it that made it seem that way. Of course, the friends who were keen to go were never the ones whose number came up, while those who weren’t, or indeed registered as pacifists, seemed inevitably to be called up. To an extent you were “safe” while you continued your university studies as you could defer your enlistment until they were completed, something non-students weren’t able to do.

It wasn’t until 1972 when Gough Whitlam, our former Prime Minister who died this week, rescinded the ballot and conscription, as well as Australia’s involvement in the Vietnam War, that this changed. It’s also worth noting that in this era, we could not vote or drink (alcohol) until we were 21. This song by Redgum is a diversion but tells the story of “I was only 19“.

Mr Cassmob was able to avoid the conscription birthday ballot by always, and only, stating his residence as Papua New Guinea, making him ineligible. Even though he’d been in the Army cadets at school, he was in no rush to be conscripted. Frighteningly, for the first time tonight, reading the AWM link above, I’ve learned that Mr Cassmob’s birthday was drawn in the ballot for the year he turned 20.

Political Activism on Campus

A.E. Patrick (Manufacturer) (1969). Badge - Australians No Conscription, A.E. Patrick, circa 1969. Museum Victoria

A.E. Patrick (Manufacturer) (1969). Badge – Australians No Conscription, Museum Victoria

Like campuses the world over in the 60s, there was an active political scene and The University of Queensland was no exception. Led by the charismatic left-wing speakers Brian Laver and Mitch Thompson from Students for Democratic Action (SDA), students gathered at lunch time in the “Forum”, an area outside the Refec (refectory) to hear the issues of the day debated. Of course, equally typical of the era, it was a very male-dominated environment. Although the issue of Vietnam was high on people’s minds, this became overshadowed by the fact that it was then illegal to march in Queensland without a state-issued permit…and you guessed it, your chances of obtaining same were pretty much zero.

It all came to a head in September 1967, in some ways strange timing given that university exams were held annually those days in early November, so we should all have been preoccupied with study and revision. In fact my mother was given a warning by my Chem I tutor (a Professor of Chemistry) that she should get me away from the “troublemakers” I was hanging around with. Perhaps he meant the Catholic Newman Society of which I was an active member? Dad on the other hand was asked by a policeman who lived locally if I would report back to him about what was going on…he was sent away with a large flea in his ear. We were certainly aware that the Police Special Branch had officers among the crowds at the Forum. One thing that strikes me about student attire in those days was how conventionally they were dressed.

The St Patrick’s Day Railway Strike March 1948

On 8 September 1967, thousands of students gathered to debate whether to stage an illegal march into the city. There’d been a trial/temporary march down to the end of the campus a few days earlier but this was to be the real thing. It certainly wasn’t spontaneous as Dad had already forbidden me to walk in the march. He cited what he’d witnessed during the St Patrick’s Day railway strike in Brisbane 1948, not all that long before my parents were to be married. If I wanted to have children, he said, I couldn’t march. Ross Fitzgerald, a Queensland historian refers in his book From 1915 to the early 1980s: a history of Queensland[i] to “a woman demonstrator was hit between the legs with a banner…” This photo, from this book and also from DJ Murphy’s collection at Fryer Library, demonstrates that Dad was certainly in the right place on the day to know what he was talking about, in terms of things getting violent.

If this is not my Dad standing on the footpath I will give over a winning lottery ticket -everything fits.

If this is not my Dad standing on the footpath I will give over a winning lottery ticket – everything about it fits. https://www.library.uq.edu.au/fryer/denis_murphy/historian.html

The Illegal March

Skipping forward to the meeting on 8 September 1967, staff and students debated and voted to proceed with an illegal march from the campus at St Lucia to the city, about 8 kilometres. Around 4000 people participated in the march, if current reports are accurate, and certainly the crowd was huge. We had been urged to be non-violent at all times and not to actively resist police and the watch house sheets suggest this was largely the case. Just imagine the potential for it getting completely out of hand – hardly surprising the police were nervous, especially those brought into the city for the event. You can get a sense of the crowd from images on this website. Somewhere in that crowd were two young fresh-faced undergraduates, and many (but not all) of their mates….good former Catholic school students all. An interesting article on this aspect is here.

True to my promise to Dad I became one of those who “showed their interest and support by following behind the main demonstration on the footpath”. Along the way I nipped into shops and bought cold drinks for my mates. As we neared the end of Coronation Drive, near what was then the Arnott’s factory (as I recall) we got word that the Police planned to trap the marchers in the underpass under the Grey Street Bridge (now the approach to the motorway)…the Police headquarters were in nearby Makerston St. The march direction was then re-routed to go along Roma Street in front of the railway station and it was an impressive sight, with marchers filling what seemed the whole length of the block. When they were given the official warning to stop the march, the protesters linked arms and sat down on the roadway. And that was where the “fun” began. You can see the video here.

This Google Earth map shows the last stage of this civil liberties march and the route diversion, finishing outside Roma St Railway Station.

The Conflict

For some reason I took a slightly different path, and arrived in Roma Street (near where my father worked) soon after in time to see an ocean of blue uniforms and suits, students emerging with ripped shirts, signs being smashed, friends with blood on their faces. It really was confronting and sobering. Anecdote states that many police had removed their identifying badges on the day. Ironically a few of my relatives would have been there that day along with a new constable who we became friends with in Papua New Guinea. Even thinking of it now, my knees start to shake.

A screen dump from the vimeo video of my other half 1967.

Eventually I found my new boyfriend, as he was then, and he was safe if somewhat shaken. Another girlfriend from school was less fortunate as she was taken to the watch house (though she’s not on the charge sheets)….she shook for days afterwards. For those with patience and interest the video of the day is now online and Mr Cassmob can be seen along with another of our mates. The original film is now held at the National Film and Sound Archive in Canberra and is one of the things I hope to follow up at Congress 2015.

As if that wasn’t enough we reconvened down near Parliament House and watched as yet more protesters were thrown into paddy wagons. I still admire the restraint of the police officer who stood in front of me as I expressed my disquiet (not entirely politely)…he simply ignored me, so I was lucky not to have a trip to the watch house myself.

My diary for the day simply says MARCH!!! CCCL (CLCC)

In the aftermath, Parliament was closed to the public as the matter was debated. Somehow Dad was the only member of the public to attend, thanks to their local Member of Parliament, Manfred Cross, or so the family story has always gone from Day One.

It would take decades, and the demise of Joh Bjelke-Petersen’s reign, for the issue of civil liberties to change in Queensland. Even when I started working at UQ 15 years later, I met others who’d marched in the anti-Springbok protests of 1971. Of course by then we were living in isolated Papua New Guinea with a small child to care for…we had been “suitably” transformed into moderates…well up to a point. The irony is that while working at UQ in the 1980s there was a student demonstration against the administration in the building where I worked….it was strange and scary to be on the other side of the fence with people yelling “at you”. The other irony is that when the political environment opened up, most students stopped caring so much about these broader issues.

Two sides to a story

This may all sound very anti-police, but as I mentioned I have police officers in my family, far and near, and I can sympathise with them on these matters…you just never know when something as large as the 1967 protest will get out of hand. At the end of the day, Police respond to government decisions and the law of the time, and in that era, the democratic right to protest was non-existent.

I wonder where other Sepians marched to with this week’s topic?

Follow up reading

Enthusiastic readers can learn more about Queensland’s Railway strike in this online edition of Denis Murphy’s book The Big Strikes 1889-1965.

You might also be interested in this blog post on the ballot and Vietnam by my late friend Catherine on her blog Seeking Susan~Meeting Marie~Finding Family.

There’s plenty for me to follow up one day in the UQ Fryer Library holdings and Hansard.

[i] From 1915 to the early 1980s: a history of Queensland. Fitzgerald, R. University of Queensland Press, St Lucia, 1984, page 130-131.

Sepia Saturday (or Tuesday): Kathmandu tales

Posted on 21 October, 2014 by cassmob

Funny how things turn out isn’t it? All along my plan was to write my Sepia Saturday post on Kathmandu…after all my photos fitted the theme perfectly. Then I went off the idea, and life got in the way as I worked on photo books of our last holiday.

Vegetable and fruit sellars in a Kathmandu street.

The universe had other plans though, because in my virtual mail box today was an unexpected Random Act of Kindness. Robert had retouched my old, faded Kathmandu photos so they were now punchy with colour just as they were back in the day. To say I was surprised and delighted was an understatement! So of course now I have to use them even if it is now Sepia Tuesday, but then they’re not really sepia anymore either. If you want to see what an amazing difference Robert’s skills have wrought, have a look at an old post I did on my Tropical Territory blog.

Although my children know the story of our trip to Kathmandu this seems an opportunity to preserve it for posterity.

We were living in Port Moresby in the 1970s when my colleague/boss moved to Kathmandu where her husband had gained a posting in charge of the electrical division of Kathmandu airport. Both Mr Cassmob and I had always had a virtual interest in India, Nepal and Mt Everest so it was very tempting when we were genuinely invited to come for a visit. Despite the temptation, I was adamant we couldn’t go because the children were only six and four and, I thought, vulnerable to all the potential illnesses.

One of the scenes when you wish you knew what was happening.

In Papua New Guinea, as part of our employment conditions we got return airfares every two years to Australia (in our case Melbourne where my husband came from). Since it cost almost as much to spend months in Australia as it did to travel overseas, you might well guess which option we took.

So it was that in late 1976/early 1977 we were planning our next leave with a trip to Europe and the UK. Of course there was no internet, and no option for online bookings, so off to the travel agent in town we toddled.

Part way through the process DD2 took off up the street for a walkabout, with Mum in hot pursuit. We returned to hear “that’s …..Heathrow to Delhi, Delhi to Kathmandu, Kathmandu-Bangkok, Bangkok-Singapore, Singapore-Moresby”. Say what? Did she say Kathmandu? Indeed she did… the wily one had taken the chance of my disappearance to sneak in the diversion via Kathmandu!

One of our favourite photos of Kathmandu – what were they looking at?

And so we found ourselves landing in Kathmandu amidst a cracking electrical storm surrounded by mountains and being rather grateful for our friend’s role in ensuring the airport’s electrics were up to par.

We had a great time staying with them, being guided round the streets and byways of Kathmandu. So much to see and even by comparison with Papua New Guinea, so much poverty and illnesses like leprosy. It’s a bit daunting seeing people missing body parts like noses, fingers etc but the kids mostly took it all in their stride. They even coped with the cows’ “right of way” in all matters…well most of the time. They were even unfazed by witnessing a cremation ceremony on the banks of the river….I was ambivalent but my friend reckoned they’d be okay and they were. The Nepali people were so friendly and less importuning than we’d experienced in Delhi as well, so that helped our appreciation of the place too.

Tinsmiths or silversmiths working their craft.

One day we were lucky enough to go for a drive with our friend up into the mountains while he completed some work. We drove through villages where the road was covered in grain and the passing vehicles threshed it as they drove over. We drove on steep roads with fierce drops on the edge of the road – much scarier than parts of the Highlands Highway in PNG. I remember being asked how close to the edge we were – not the best question for a person with a fear of heights, and especially edges. Sadly, when we went to take the film out of the camera that day we’d had a blooper – no film! Most distressing I can tell you.

We even managed an excursion flight out to Mount Everest which was a super thrill for all of us, and the kids still have their certificates from the flight. We were also lucky we were staying with our friends because it meant the water was triple filtered and the fruit and vegetables always cleaned in Condy’s-crystalled-water. Almost needless to say the kids didn’t get sick…that privilege was left for their mother. As we took that Kathmandu-Bangkok leg I was violently ill …hardly surprising I’ve avoided Bangkok airport ever since.

Sari making must be a time-consuming task, requiring lots of patience.

We duly arrived in Singapore and were met by family members of one of Mr Cassmob’s work colleagues. They really couldn’t do enough for us, guiding us around town and taking us out for special meals at places we’d never have found…though they were surprised we managed to get to Sentosa Island on our own <smile>. And then, just as the piggy bank was nearing the bottom of its resources, along came the Australian baggage handler’s strike and the cessation of flights…but that’s a story for another day, along with the theft in Amsterdam of Mr Cassmob’s passport with all its visas, and his share of the money.

Thanks Robert for this wonderful and surprising Act of Kindness!

Why not pop over and see how other Sepians interpreted this week’s image?

Shall we have goat for dinner?

Men of the Queensland Bush: Sepia Saturday 249

Posted on 11 October, 2014 by cassmob

This week’s Sepia Saturday is about the horse, the cart and the drivers. While my Denis Gavin from Kildare and Dublin worked as a bullocky out west when he first arrived in Queensland I have no photos of him, or his bullock dray. Many of my ancestors also rode the iron rails but today’s photo is of none of these.

This photo is one I included in my Kunkel family history. It was given to me by Dad’s cousin and shows a bunch of dodgy looking blokes hanging around the 20^th century cart and horse…a truck. I know my grandfather’s brothers worked as carriers but the cousin couldn’t identify which was her father, Matthew David John (John) Kunkel. If I was guessing I’d say it was the bloke on the front right, and strangely she wasn’t sure…or perhaps he was the photographer. Actually I’d have expected John’s brother Ken to have been with him as they were very close.

But isn’t it a great photo?! All dressed in their Driza-bones and wearing hats with character. The front row are crouched in the typical bushie pose that Dad always took up when waiting for something. Time was I could do it too, but sadly I’m no longer that flexible or agile. The pipes remind me of my grandad who would sit on the back steps of their house tapping the tobacco out, refilling the pipe then having a quiet smoke, looking over the back yard.

The Darling Downs is the lime green area on the bottom right.

While these men would have probably given anyone in need a hand, you can’t help feeling you wouldn’t want to meet them on a dark night. I’d place a good bet too that many, if not all of them, were returned service men from World War I. If you recognise anyone in this group, please do comment as I’d love to know about it.

It looks to me like a silo behind the men, which would fit with it likely being taken on the Darling Downs. To the right is a typical old Queenslander house, on stilts, with its two tanks and no doubt a slow combustion stove to cope with the chilly weather typical of winter on the Downs.

Gallop over to see how other Sepians transported themselves this week.

Tents, glorious tents

Posted on 20 September, 2014 by cassmob

Given the propensity for front page news to be all about disasters, you might be surprised that this is my mental starting point for today’s Sepia Saturday theme. You see it was the one and only time I’ve made the front page, and in my first term of high school no less. One way to get noticed I suppose.

I’d been in Girl Guides since 1960 and passed my camping test for the first class badge on 6 June 1961…coincidentally Queensland Day. We were transported to these camping adventures by an old three-ton truck, probably an old army vehicle. Guides plus camping requirements were piled in the back tray and off we went. Can you imagine that being allowed today?

I remember going to a farmer’s property on the far edges of Brisbane where we erected those big cumbersome tents typical of the era. Digging latrines and putting up hessian-screened bathing areas was also part of the fun. Bath time involved those big round metal tubs and the toilets were dirt ditches. Each day we’d get fresh milk from the farmer, or more accurately, his cows. No nonsense about pasteurisation either. Meals were cooked in large army dixies. We’d swim in the very chilly creek and hope not to encounter any eels, water snakes etc. At night we’d have a huge campfire and sing songs. The first time I went camping with Guides my parents came out for a day visit. How that happened I’m not sure – they certainly weren’t the only ones and as they didn’t have a car, they’d have had to come with someone else. I remember I was a little homesick but so were they because for the first time the nest was empty.

Then a few years later, over the May school holidays, we went to a different site. This one was on a rise, with a dry creek-bed on one side and a small creek on the other. Overnight it rained, and rained, and we woke up to a raging creek all around us and no hope of getting off our new island. As an adult I can only imagine the anxiety and decisions the leaders had to make. You can read the whole exciting story in the linked post I wrote a while ago. Suffice to say, thanks to the Water Police, and a courageous Guide, we made it home safely and found ourselves on the front page of the local newspaper the next day.

There was no opportunity for holiday camping in Papua New Guinea, at least as far as I know, so it wasn’t until the early 80s that we introduced our own trio of little campers to holidays under canvas. This time we had been invited to join our neighbours on a camping trip to Hastings Point in northern New South Wales. Over the years our family had many great adventures there, and you can read a little about them by clicking here.

Camping in splendid isolation with a view of the sea…that’s our tent.

The photo above (on a grey day) is of our favourite spot overlooking the creek where it joins the surf and the Pacific Ocean. It was always an anxious moment until we crossed the bridge and checked no one had usurped “our” tent site! The next chore was to check out the changes in the creek’s path and whether the pelicans were “in town” or not. In our energetic moments we’d explore the marine park among the rocks, go swimming (convincing the girls not to swim to New Zealand), or have a game of cricket , or just loll around reading a book. The wind could be pretty fierce there and by the time this tent was retired there was nary a straight pole among the collection.

The caption on this says "our firs camping weekend, Lamington NP, Anzac weekend 1985". Both tents are ours.

The caption on this says “our first (solo) camping weekend, Lamington NP, Anzac weekend 1985”. Both tents are ours.

One of our other favourite sites was at Lamington National Park where we’d see the bower birds, noisy pitta birds, rosellas and possums. It could get quite cold up there so we had some fun times rugged to our eyebrows, toasting marshmallows and playing maj jong or card games. During the day we’d go for walks in the magnificent rainforest, and perhaps feed more birds.

And then there was the year I decided on the spur of the moment one school holidays to take DD3 and her cousin to the snow, a mere 1500kms or so away, as I’d heard there’d been great snowfalls. By the time we arrived at a motel after dark that night I was seriously doubting my sanity, especially as the motel seemed to have a high turnover of short term stays and a lot of cars coming and going! Once we reached Kosciuszko National Park, we camped below the snowline but believe me it was pretty cold just the same. The wildlife had grown accustomed to the campers so were on the lookout for snacks, like these two fellows. An improvement on our Bicentennial camping trip when the birds had eaten all our stone-fruit which we’d foolishly left on the table under the tent’s awning. When we returned the chairs were covered in the way you might expect when a critter has eaten a surfeit of stone fruit.

But it’s cold and we need a snack!

Although it didn’t make the front page news, I regard my Big Trip of 1994 as my most memorable. Exhausted and burnt out from a high-intensity, very political job at a research centre it was time to take myself to the wilderness for a while (have I mentioned what a supportive husband I have?). So me, my tent and all my clutter took off in the car for points south of Queensland.

That raised bonnet suggests trouble was already afoot. Mt Kaputar National Park.

My first stop was Mt Kaputar where I arrived late in the afternoon. I got set up and made sure my brick-sized mobile phone was charged and checked in with himself. In the process I turned the car engine – and again – and again…to no avail. In the morning I got someone to jump start the car and made my way determinedly down the range to the nearest town, where I foolishly turned the engine off again. One day into my trip I had acquired a faulty alternator so I spent my second day cooling my heels in a country town waiting for it to be replaced.

Once again Hastings Pt 1989, but could be any/many of our campsites.

Mercifully after that the trip went smoothly and I dawdled my way to Adelaide (I guess about 3000kms away) a couple of weeks later. While I often found myself camped with only a few other tents around, I also wasn’t being foolish. At one national park I got such a negative vibe that I just turned turkey and found a motel.

Mr Cassmob met me in Adelaide and we picked up DD2 and DD3 from the airport in Alice Springs, late as it happens, but that’s another story. This was our first excursion into the Northern Territory and little did we know then how big a part it would come to play in all our lives over the coming decades. By the time we pulled back into our driveway in Brisbane we’d notched up about 14,000kms and spent more than half the time under canvas.

At the time of the Bicentenary in 1988, submissions were sought from people around the country showing their favourite places and activities. We submitted this one of DD2 washing her sister’s hair, camping style.

Two of the Cass girls, Hastings Point. Page 272, My Australia, Robertsbridge Group Pty Ltd, Sydney, 1989.

As you can see, camping has been a large part of our family story over several decades. We don’t get to do it as much lately – sleeping on the ground has worn off a little, but there is something very special about being out in the bush with a blur of the Milky Way over your head. The family cycle has turned and now our children and grandchildren love to escape the big smoke and head out to enjoy the nights away as a clan with glo-sticks, sparklers, marshmellows and a roaring fire. It is certainly creating some great cousin memories which will stay with them through their lives.

A souvenir photo, taken by one of the kids, when my parents came camping.

And as a finale, here’s a photo of an old-style tent taken at the Colonial Queensland exhibition in Brisbane in 1986. It was at this event that I enquired about family history research and signed up with the Genealogical Society of Queensland, thereby starting me down a path which has kept me engaged and happy for nearly thirty years.

Now you’ve reached the end of this saga, why not head over to see what the other Sepians have had to say about camping or trios. It looks like it’s been a popular topic.

Did you go camping as a child? As an adult? Did you love it or loathe it?

Skylarking in the army

Posted on 13 September, 2014 by cassmob

This week’s Sepia Saturday 245 is all about men larking about, perhaps with a wee drop of whisky in the background.

My images today date from a serious aspect of our nation’s history, World War II, but it’s also obvious the men weren’t on the front line and were having a fine time larking around. This series of photos is from my aunt’s photo album which I inherited. Her husband, Pat Farraher, was a cook with the Army during the War and I wrote about the serious side of his story back on Sepia Saturday 180.

In the photos Pat and his mates are having a play stoush, doing the seemingly-inevitable rabbit ears behind a mate and generally having a light moment or two with or without the wee dram. I don’t know whether the photos were taken at Enoggera barracks in Brisbane or somewhere in Papua New Guinea, but my guess would be the former except in the final photo. Seriously, would you trust these men with the nation’s security?

I wonder how other Sepians have responded to this challenge? Do their photos reveal lurking, posing, drinking or sharing?

This photograph has the following names on the reverse: Ned Eteell, Slim Hope, and Percy Holt. My guess is this photo is in PNG.

Family history across the seas

My family history in Australia and overseas and related migration research

Tag Archives: Sepia Saturday

Sepia Saturday: Strolling in the City

Sepia Saturday 258: Meeting the GI Cousin in Sydney WWII

Sepia Saturday: Military Mateship

Sepia Saturday: Colonial Fishing Days

Sepia Saturday: Mr & Mrs McSherry – Diamond Jubilee 1941

Sepia Saturday 251: Qld Civil Liberties in the 60s

Sepia Saturday (or Tuesday): Kathmandu tales

Men of the Queensland Bush: Sepia Saturday 249

Tents, glorious tents

Skylarking in the army

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this: