We were a pretty healthy lot, but Reg (the second eldest) had diphtheria when he was a small boy. We all had the usual children’s illnesses like mumps, measles and chicken pox. I can remember when I had whooping cough and was very sick. Mum had a lady from over the way who came to help her sometimes and I had a coughing time and made a mess on the floor near the back door. She was very annoyed and said “Look at the mess you’ve made and I’ve just cleaned this floor too.” I can remember feeling awful about this incident.
Harry and Betty were prone to having sprained ankles. I can remember Mavis and I had one of the children’s illnesses and Mum walked all the way up to Mitchells shop to get us oranges when we were getting better. She got some bananas one day too. This was a novelty to us. We sat up in Mum and Dad’s bed eating the bananas slowly to make them last and we began licking them pretending they were ice creams (another novelty to us). We started giggling and Mum came in. “1 think you can get up to-morrow" she said. We seemed to be well again.
Dad suffered from bad backs and stomach pains at times. I remember my Mother and the boys rubbing his back many times.
On August 5th 1943, one of my brothers, Edwin, was putting lime on the orchard (a fine powder). The horse pulled a bin on wheels and as the wheels moved a spreader moved in the bin spreading the lime out. He had stopped because it wasn’t spreading properly. He looked into the spreader and the horse moved and he got lime sprayed over his face and into his eyes, especially the left one. It was very painful for him. He came back to the house and Mum and Dad were out. His two little sisters tried to help him by washing his eyes with water. I can remember him nearly crying with the stinging in his eyes. He was taken to the doctor who ordered him to the Eye and Ear Hospital in Melbourne. He was in hospital for 4 weeks. He was 18 at the time and has had trouble with that eye ever since.
I cannot remember Mum ever being in bed sick. There is an old saying that Mothers can’t afford to be sick. I suppose that many a time she was not well but just kept going — Dear Mum.
Church Life
My great grandfather Henry William Grouch helped to start the Doncaster Church of Christ. He came to Doncaster around 1862 and became friends with some Baptist people. A short while later the Church of Christ was started. I can remember the big photo of him on the wall of the old wooden Church. A man with a bushy beard and I'd say to my friends "That’s my great grandfather" and feel quite proud. We went to worship in the brick building in front of the old Church.
My earliest memories are of the Sunday School Kindergarten. I can remember a pink dress with tiny flowers on it and frills around it. A dear lady, Mrs. Hilda Tully looked after the Kindergarten. She was the loveliest lady - next to Mum. I had lovely years there. When it was our birthday, we sat in a special cane chair and a cardboard cake with candles on it. The other children sang to the birthday child. On the wall was a picture of a Mother and her little girl with their hands folded in prayer. It was a lovely picture but the little girl's nose was running. Why didn't the mother clean her nose? Once I started school I graduated to the "big" Sunday School, I was getting to be a big girl.
Once a year we had the Sunday School Anniversary. For this we learned special songs from a small book "Joyful Voices". Practice went on for quite a few Sundays before the great day. One of the songs sticks in my memory –
"Praise Him with melody; Praise Him with song; Tell of His wondrous love; All the day long."
It was a great day and we received a book as a prize. Often I would get 1st prize. After the Sunday of the Anniversary there was a concert at the Athenaeum Hall on the Tuesday night. Rehearsals went on for weeks before the night. Plays etc. needed lots of going over. I don't remember what I did at these concerts but I was in them along with all the other children. I remember Harry had a teddy bear outfit Mum had made. He was in "The Teddy Bears’ Picnic", "If you go down to the woods to-day You're in for a big surprise."
He tells me that because the outfit cost so much he had to use it as pyjamas later and sometimes he would wake up just so hot. On another occasion he tells me he and a mate sang a song about a dog-called "Old Shep". We had a dog called "Shep" and the memory came back to me after Harry talked to me about it. They were wonderful times remembered from my childhood.
At Christmas there was a large Christmas tree on the platform of the Church. The Saturday before Christmas Day there was a party. I can remember sitting in the front row and looking at all the toys on the tree. (They were never wrapped). I was hoping for a doll and was so thrilled to get one off the tree.
I remember Lorraine Banks and Gwenda Miller singing. How their voices blended together. Our Church was proud of the Doncaster Male Quartet - Don Petty, Russell Tully, Gill Tully and Malcolm McIntyre. This quartet went to many places singing. They were on Terry Dear's "Amateur Hour" on the wireless and we listened to them. We had meetings of Rachabites (a temperance organisation) and the opening hymn was always "Join all the glorious names of wisdom, love and power". In 1940, a new Minister came and the Rachabite meetings were dropped. We then had "Band of Hope" and Mum used to help with that. Mr. Banks had two children, Lorraine and Trevor. I still keep in touch with Lorraine.
Everyone seemed to know each other in our Church. We had Sunday best clothes and hats. We always had a new outfit for the Anniversary. Mum was busy for weeks making those new clothes. Mum made her own hats (sometimes out of old ones). The more fashionable ladies had beautiful hats and you noticed Mrs......' s new hat. She always sat down at the front. On the way home someone would say "Did you see Mrs......’ s new hat to-day?" On occasions, there were Church lunches and teas. (That was when Mum gave some of her butter coupons away during the war.) I can remember when I was a young girl hearing my cousin, Gordon Crouch, telling his mates "I'm standing in front of Auntie Bessie's (MY MUM) cream puffs”. They were his favourites.
In the fruit season, there was the "Harvest Thanksgiving". The orchardists gave boxes of beautiful fruit. There was a prayer of thanksgiving for the fruit harvest. On the way home Mum and Dad would talk about the various fruits on display. Of course we always thought Dad's fruit was the best. It was the best fruit that was given - never rejects. This was quite a sacrifice for them all. The fruit was then donated to poor families in Melbourne. A couple of the men delivered the fruit to the City.
One day on our way home from school we noticed some ladies in the Church hall so we stopped to have a peep. I went home and asked Mum why she was not at the Church where they were selling things. It was a kitchen tea being held for Nancy Petty and her glory box was being shown. (This happened when I was to be married too)
When Charlie the swagman was in town he came to Church at night. He sat in the back row and was really quite smelly. He came late and left during the last hymn. I was always a bit scared of Charlie.
Mum had a lovely singing voice and was able to get up to the high notes. Sometimes I felt she sang too loud and I nudged her with my elbow. Uncle Arch (Dad's brother) had a lovely tenor voice and he would sing all the trilly bits. I loved to hear him. He sat on the other side of the Church and I reckon he and Mum tried to outdo each other. During the war, we saw the boys in uniform looking so handsome. I can remember thinking Glen Smedley looked just like King George in his uniform. We were proud of our boys who went to the war and there was always a special welcome to them when they were on leave.
When I was about 16, I was asked to join the choir and I stayed a member until I left when I married. We only sang at night service. It had to be a special occasion for us to sing at the morning service.
When we didn't go to Church at night Mum played the organ and we had a "sing song" around her. She taught herself to play and was a bit slow at times.
We all had our own favourite songs but the only one I can remember was Betty's and she sang it beautifully. "I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses".
As I grew up, I learned about and began to love the Lord Jesus. I wanted to become a member of the Church and on the 28th March 1947 (my last year at school) I was baptised along with others including Mavis. We were welcomed into the Church, on 3rd April that year.
Later I taught in the kindergarten and have very fond memories of that time. I continued there until I was married. When I had my own children I was leader in the Kindergarten Department for over 12 years at the Church we attended.
Many hymns we sing in Church remind me of occasions I remember from my girlhood. It brings a tear to my eye when I remember the days gone by. I am so thankful that my parents brought me up in the Church of god.
The Messenger - Items of Interest
Published by the Doncaster Church of Christ, Minister F. B. Burtt, Main Road, Phone WX9177. Secretary: K.C.H. Cousin, Elgar Road. Phone: WX9148. Vol 2 - No.1. February, 1953. Gratis
“Mrs. Thos. Tully Jnr, who became a victim of "polio” just before Christmas, is home again, and is slowly improving. We all join in wishing her a speedy recovery to full health and strength and we remember her in our daily intercessions before the Great Physician.
With grateful thanks to God for many answered prayers we are able to report that the final operation on little Christine Burtt was a success, and her progress since has been entirely satisfactory. She returned home from hospital on Sunday, January 18th.
From phone calls, letters, and verbal reports to hand, the broadcast service of December 21st was very well received and much appreciated by a wide audience. Our thanks to all who had a part in the service and thereby contributed to its success.
The cricket team is not having the successful run enjoyed in recent years, but players are keen and some of the younger ones are showing promise that augurs well for the future.
Mr. and Mrs. Burtt and family hope to spend annual holidays at Point Lonsdale from February 16 to March 2nd. Any urgent church business during that time will be handled by our efficient secretary, Bro. Cousin.
A very happy event in the life of Miss Olive Crouch will take place in the Chapel on Saturday, February 14th. We wish Olive and Ken all happiness, and God’s richest blessings on their married life.
The services of the 25th January were conducted by one time preachers of the Doncaster church in the persons of G. T. Black, at the communion service, and R. Banks, of Swan Hill, at the gospel meeting. The occasion was caused by the absence of F. B. Burtt, who was assisting at the services at the Monbulk Camp. Both Mrs. Black and Mrs. Banks were present and the time was one of happy fellowship.
Mr. and Mrs. Banks were on holidays and were taking the opportunity to "drop in’' and see their many friends in Doncaster.
Mr, and Mrs. Peter Evans and their small son from Cotton-ville, S.A., have been welcome visitors during the past few weeks. Most of us, of course, remember Mrs. Evans as Irene Williamson.
The Kindergarten will soon be losing two of its teachers when they leave to take up the responsibilities of married life. Olive Crouch is scheduled to observe the ceremony on the 14th February and Margaret Miller, the Superintendent, we are reliably informed, the middle of March. We take this opportunity to extend to them both our very best wishes for the future.”
Doncaster Church of Christ in the fifties. Harry, Olive, Dad
Our wedding in the 50's at church.
Strained glass window in new church given by descendants of Henry William Crouch who helped to start church.
Harvest Thanksgiving
Off to Sunday school
Dr. Commons place and church.
Orchard Life
Every season brought different work to be done on the orchard. The men were kept pretty busy. In the autumn, there were lemons to be sprayed with white oil for scale, ploughing was needed and there was such a lot of orchard to plough. The trees would be a blaze of colour with leaves turning colour, then going brown and blowing away, leaving the bare branches.
Winter brought the time to prune the trees - such a lot of trees to prune. Spraying of peach and nectarines was done before any bud movement. This was done with white oil and sulphur (in old times sprayed with tar). All the sticks from pruning had to be gathered up and put in heaps. This was something the younger ones did and if we were slacking we would get a smack with a twig. I didn't do much on the orchard but did a bit of stick gathering. The pruning cuttings were gathered by horse and cart and stacked in a big heap for burning after they had dried out a bit.
In the early springtime, apples and pears had to be sprayed with white oil before bud movement then with a copper spray after the blossom bud had burst. Every three weeks another spray of arsenate of lead was used. Later D.D.T. was used when the arsenate of lead was banned. Then D.D.T. was banned as all of these substances were poisons. The spraying was necessary because of the various pests like curly leaf, aphids, codlin moth on apples.
A lovely reward would be to see all the trees in blossom. A beautiful sight. Many people over the years, came to Doncaster to see the orchards in blossom. Coming home from Church on a Sunday there would be plenty of cars going up the road. A beautiful view from Doncaster Hill on each side would be blossoms. In the early summer the trees were what is called "ploughed off". Blossoms were in clumps and each blossom made a fruit. Many were too close together so thinning out of various varieties of peaches was done leaving the best little fruits to develop with plenty of room on the branch to develop into good fruit.
Often there had not been much spring rain and little dams had to be dug. They were about 2 metres by 1 metre and were dug on the top side of the trees for watering to give the trees moisture for the developing fruit.
Dad had tin pipes, each the length between each tree and as the lowest little dam was filled the pipe was undone up at the next tree so that that little dam would fill up too. So the process went on up to the first tree. As each pipe was taken off, it was taken over to the next row of trees and joined up to start the process all over again for that row. Straw was laid down too to stop the hot sun taking the moisture out of the ground.
Then came the time for picking the fruit. This entailed knowing when each variety was ready for picking so that they did not ripen too soon on the tree. The soft fruit had to be watched for this, peaches etc. Packing and grading the fruit was a time consuming job.
As well as keeping up with all the seasonal work bad setbacks had to be endured. Frosts to ruin good fruit forming. A summer storm of hail and heavy rain could ruin a whole crop. I have seen this happen and it is heartbreaking to see a whole year's work gone. The only time the orchardist makes any money is in the summer and they had to make enough to last until the next fruit season.
Many orchardists had overdrafts at the bank to tide them over. Locals invented ploughs such as the "Petty Plough" and a spray pump was invented by Jack Burrows. It was called "Bave U Sprayer" because "Bay View" was the name of Mr. Petty's home.
Fruit was often stored in the Cool Stores. I remember the "Orchardists Cool Store" east of Doncaster and another west of Doncaster was "West Doncaster Cool Store". Both were on Main Road. This was the one Dad used most. We children would often go with Dad for the ride. He would unload the boxes of fruit onto a trolley with a handle at one end, open the big thick heavy door and in we would go. It was so cold in there and our noses would get so cold. What a relief to come out into the warmth again. We children would give each other rides on the trolley up and down the platform until someone told us to stop. There were some private Cool Stores too. Lawfords, Gaylings and Camerons are the ones I remember.
After the war and in the 1950's orchardists began to sell their properties which generations had worked on. Many moved further away and others retired on their new wealth from the sale of the land.
Henry Crouch started this orchard and four generations later Henry (Harry) Crouch is selling the property. The last surviving orchard in Williamsons Road - maybe Doncaster.
The way of selling the fruit was to take it to The Victoria Market in North Melbourne. This meant an early start - about 3 a.m. - for the slow drive (the old Chev truck) to the City. Before the truck, it was horse and cart so that would have taken longer.
The selling varied. If there was a lot of the same fruit it would sell cheaper. It was either a "good market" or a "not so good market". One day when I was about 9 or 10 I asked Dad if I could go to Market with him. "Well you will have to get up when it is still dark," he said. I went early to bed and in the morning, without having any breakfast, we were off to market, lots of trucks had backed into the platform so that the back tray of the truck would be level with where the fruit shop men walked. Dad displayed cases of fruit in this way.
The orchardists usually had their regular customers. Chinese men came to buy too. I can remember a Chinaman talking to Dad about his fruit and he spotted me in the back of the truck behind Dad. He said to Dad "How much your little girl?" I remember cringing behind Dad hoping he would not sell me to a Chinaman. After all the fruit was sold, we went and had breakfast. Everyone seemed to have fried eggs. Dad did and I suppose I did too. There were lots of big burly men around and I clung to Dad. I only went once but I did enjoy it.
Cherries were nearly always the first fruit in November. We were warned not to eat too many at a time because we would get a tummy ache. Mavis tells me we used to get at them before they were properly ripe so that could have been the cause of the tummy ache. We used to put sets of two cherries on our ears and pretend they were earrings until we ate them. Dad had a job keeping the birds from eating the cherries so someone was sent up to watch for the birds. A honking horn from an old car that made a terrible noise frightened the birds away.
This patch of orchard of cherries and peaches was watered by mains water, which came from Church Road.
Dad would pipe water from larger pipes. I remember going up there with Dad one day and he found water trickling out. He was annoyed and going crook about the water wasted and that he would have to pay for it.
I just couldn't understand this. Water should be free. God sends us water in the rain (I was only little).
Dad explained how the pipes cost money and people had to look after the pipes.
As well as the orchard work there was always something to do around the house. The horses had to be put in the barn and fed. The cow had to be milked every morning and night and I believe my Uncle Arch (Dad's
brother) would know when the cow was being milked and he would call out to lad across the valley. (His place was southeast of our place in Church Road). He would tell Dad any news of births or deaths of people they knew. Their voices would carry right across the valley quite a distance. I can remember my Mother calling out to Dad when mid-day meal was nearly ready "Cooo—eee" across the orchard where he was working. We had an old cow bell and this was used too. I used to love to ring it - tossing it up and down in my hand to get the loudest sound from it. Harry still has that old cow bell.
Our minister at the Church, Mr. Banks, went to help orchardists pick their fruit. He gave each one a few hours and then he would go home with some reject fruit as payment for his labours. A lot of the orchardist's sons were at the war and their help was missed very much. In the depression time the orchardists were lucky to get 2/- (20 cents) a case for their fruit. The same prices prevailed during the war. There was no fruit being shipped overseas due to the war and Tasmanian apples were sent to the mainland and sold at the same markets. The government implemented "The Apple and Pear Board”, a wartime measure to help compensate the growers for the loss of overseas markets. A fruit inspector would come to the orchard and assess the apple and pear crop when the trees were in flower and then perhaps again after the fruit had set and he would say how many cases of fruit the trees would give. There was strict control on how many cases could be sold. The prices paid by the Apple and Pear Board was the cause of a lot of dissatisfaction to the orchard people. I believe Dad used to sell apples and pears to the dairy next door for the cows at 2/- (20 cents) a case. The money received was barely enough to pay for the next year's spraying materials.
A lot of the fruit fell to the ground and would later be ploughed into the ground. We always seemed to have more visitors in the summer months and they would always go home with fruit. Later the eldest brother Will, did the marketing and sometimes he would bring home over ripe vegetables or tropical fruit and tomatoes and Mum would make tomato sauce. One day he brought home a whole case of bananas. He opened the case. Oh all those bananas - they WOULD be a treat. Mavis and I ate so many we were quite sick. The novelty of having bananas — serves us right for making real hogs of ourselves.
The orchardist had to work in all weathers and it must have been so cold pruning in the wintertime. I know our men did not wear gloves so their hands must have been freezing. They worked in rain too. I remember my father wearing a chaff bag over his head by folding one corner into the other which gave a double thickness hood over the head and down the back. Rain meant rubber boots on all day too. In the hot summer, a straw hat on the head was essential. Dad wore a thick flannel singlet with short sleeves. He said the flannel absorbed the perspiration. As we only had wood fires for heating and cooking there had to be a constant supply of wood cut. Dad and the boys would go to the bushy paddock and gather logs, stack them against the shed to dry out and a few months later, there would be a wood cutting day. There was a Galbart machine which looked like a very small steamroller, stationery all the time near the wood heap. A wood frame too where the big round blade went. A wide leather strap was put from a wheel on the Galbart machine to the wheel that made the blade go. The logs were put on and sawed into 15 inch lengths. It was an all-day thing. I remember lots of yelling going on to be heard, above the roar of the engine and the blade cutting the wood. We younger ones had to keep right out of the way but could watch from the back veranda. It was an exciting day I remember.
It was quite a day when the new tractor arrived. It had no rubber on the wheels only steel spikes and we were told to keep away when it was moving as it would ruin our feet if we got run over. When we were young we went on camping holidays in the old Chev truck. We slept in the back with a tarp overhead. I think I can remember Harry sleeping in the cabin and there was probably a lean to tent for the older boys. We would go up to the Goulburn River where Dad had old war cobbers. He would prune their fruit trees for them.
I remember on one of these camping holidays we had been camped near a big open shed and Mum had done the washing up in there. She took off her engagement ring (diamonds and rubies) and put it on a nail on the wall and then forgot all about it. We had gone about 10 miles and she realised she did not have her ring on her finger. We had to turn back and when we got there her ring was still on the nail. It was a long way to turn back in those days too.
Later years saw Dad take himself off on the train up to Wodonga and Tallangatta Valley to visit his old war friends. He would often bring home a big leg of bacon. It lasted for ages. I can remember Mum saying "I’ll be glad when it is finished. It is turning you all into little pigs". This was said when we were squabbling or being naughty. Our holidays had to be in winter between orchard work.
There was always something to be done on the orchard in all seasons. While all the work was being done on the orchard the wife and mother was busy too. Mum had no modern conveniences. She boiled the clothes in the copper and scrubbed the very soiled clothes.
One day she got a washing machine. She put the water and clothes and soap in and stood pushing and pulling a handle up and down so it was still hard work for her. She cooked and made meals for nine of us. When I think of the small list of groceries she got from Mr. Thomas I wonder how she did it. We had our own chooks so we got eggs and the cow gave milk. Sometimes a chook (chicken) would be killed. Feeding nine people on one chicken!! We had a vegetable garden of sorts. We had lots of stewed fruit in the summer and she preserved fruit too and made jam. This was all done with reject fruit.
I can remember her making apple jelly too. All the pulp was put in a bag with a point and it was tied to the broom handle in the pantry so that the juice would drip, drip into a basin. Sometimes she would give it a gentle squeeze to speed the process. I can remember Dad going crook that it would be in the way of the milk separator that was in the little room, when he brought the milk in in a stainless steel bucket.
Mum always seemed to be cooking or baking. I suppose we ran out of bread sometimes so she would make a big scone damper. This was made with butter milk and it would cover the whole of the oven tray. Scones were always on the menu, Sunday night was special treat tea with jellies and cakes. She made lovely cream puffs with fresh cream, a bit of sugar and vanilla added to it gave the cream a beautiful taste. Sometimes there were other cakes too. To make sure we all got a cake it was one each of what was on the table. Saturday night was curried egg night and we all loved it.
Mum made lovely soup from the vegetable water from the previous meals. Dad used to like to drink this vegie water too so Mum would save some for him. Sewing and mending days came round too when out would come the old treadle sewing machine near the window. There was always butter to be made. We had a butter churn but Mum did it better with her hands. It would start being runny old cream but stir, stir with her hands and in with a dash of salt and it soon became lumpy and then butter milk would be in the bottom of the dish. Soon she had a lump of yellow butter and it was put on a board and patted with wooden butter pats. Sometimes I was allowed to do it and I put a diamond pattern on the top.
We had, a lot of chooks so had plenty of eggs. A few months before they went off the lay (laying eggs) we sometimes had the job of preserving eggs so the little jar of "KEPEG" came out. Our hands were greased with it and we would gently pick up an egg and cover the surface with the greasy oil making sure all the surface was covered. We had a big box under the big table in the kitchen for these eggs. When it was time to use the eggs we had to crack them into a saucer first to make sure they were all right to use.
We got honey by the four-gallon drum sent down on the train from Wangaratta and Dad would open it and fill up about six preserving jars. I used to like helping him with this job. The honey flowed into the jars and when the jar was nearly full he would call out "Cut" and I had a knife in my hand to cut the honey to stop the flow. I looked on this as a special job.
Talking of four gallon tins — kerosene for lamps and other things came in these tins as well and they had the top cut off and wire handles put on and they made great buckets. There were lots of improvisations and nothing was wasted in those days.
Our cow "Cherry" had a calf every year and so she would "go dry". Then someone had the job every day of going over to Williamson's Dairy next door for milk once a day. I went over quite often but was always scared the bull might be in the paddock. One day it was and I ran back home and told them. Dad sent me straight back and said "Walk as if he isn't there”. I remember running every time he wasn't looking my way.
Mrs. Williamson's name was Maude and my second name was after her. She was a tiny lady with a big hessian bag tied around her waist and it was long down to her ankles. She worked hard. I liked her as she was always kind and nice to me.
The, Williamsons who lived up at the road and grew jonquils and little daffodils next to our cow paddock - rows and rows of them.• We were not allowed to pick them as they were sold at the market. Sometimes when they were picking we would hang around and would be given a little bunch.
When we had unexpected visitors Mum would cook up something with eggs which was something she always had on hand. There was no running up to the shop to get something.
School day mornings must have been busy for Mum. She would be up making the porridge and by the time I got up the men would be out working. We toasted our bread on long forks at the fire. If it was not put on the fork properly the bread would fall into the fire.
It was great in wintertime, as it would warm you up while you did your toast. We two younger ones had long hair which had to he plaited in the mornings too. Sandwiches had to be made which were usually jam wrapped in newspaper, later it was wax paper and newspaper.
Mum made our birthday’s special days and at Christmas it was special too. We got an orange and a banana in our pillowslip along with other things. I can remember one Christmas I had a red dressing gown (a hand me down) and early in the morning with my pillowslip over my shoulder I went into Mum and Dad’s room. They were fast asleep and I walked in ”Ho! Ho! Ho! HAPPY CHRISTMAS" I said in a deep voice — Well did Dad tell me off. "Get back to bed". We never had a Christmas tree until I had grown up a bit. We children decided we were going to have one. After getting permission, off we went to get one. Harry had a tomahawk (little axe) and saw so off we set to the pine trees at Williamsons fence. After much looking around we found a branch the right size (it couldn’t be too big). We made a space in the corner of the room and made our own decorations. I vaguely remember a tree on the back veranda too.
A duck or a couple of chooks were killed to eat on Christmas Day. That was done behind the washhouse near the well. Mum or Dad and one of the boys had that job. We younger ones were not to see this. A story goes that someone was holding the chook while Mum had the axe but she only cut half its neck. It was let go and was running around with half its head on. It had to be chased and caught and the job finished properly, later it was the plucking of the feathers from the chook with Mum sitting on the veranda or step of the washhouse. I tried to do it too but just couldn’t pluck feathers from this warm thing. The feathers were saved for some use. So our Mother had lots to do in her life on the orchard.
In later years, after the family grew up, Mum was able to do things that interested her. She was a very creative lady and loved to do floral art which she learnt to do. She won ribbons and trophies for it at the Box Hill Flower Show. I have a green leaf Wedgwood plate which she won and I treasure it.
So life became easier for her when we moved into a home with electricity. She was able to use an electric washing machine and electric iron and later acquired a refrigerator — she had a lovely time making ice cream and we all enjoyed the iced water.
How wonderful it must have been for her to just walk out the gate to a bus and not have to walk miles for one.
Growing Up
The war was over and my school days nearly over.
There were two picture theatres in Box Hill, the Rialto and the Regent. Dad would take us younger ones to the pictures occasionally. Mum never came with us. She probably enjoyed the peace and quiet on her own listening to the radio.
We went to see "My Friend Flika" a story about a horse. It was very sad when the horse died. Mavis and I cried all the way home. We were still crying when we walked in the door. "Well if that's what going to the pictures does for you, you had better not go again," Mum said. We cried ourselves to sleep that night.
In 1946, there were some changes in the family. The eldest boy William Stanley decided to spread his wings and leave home. It was found that the coming fruit crop was not to be a good one. He went to New South Wales to work but he came home in his holiday time. He helped in the orchard in the summer time. While he was in the north of N.S.W. he met his future wife Joan and decided to settle there.
The boys earned pocket money by going caddying (carrying golf sticks for players) and gathering golf balls at the golf links in West Doncaster.
Harry had planted a couple of acorns from the big tree in the school ground. One was planted behind the packing shed but this tree did not survive. The calf was tethered to it and it got ring barked. The other one was planted near the boy's sleep out. This tree is quite big now and still stands in the park, which used to be the old property.
We all had our own jobs to do around the house, which were done for love because our parents didn't have money for pocket money. The boys would chop the wood and other outdoor jobs. I remember sitting on the step of the washhouse on Saturday afternoon polishing all the shoes for Sunday. Dad told me to put the polish on and leave the shoes in the sun and let the polish soak into the leather. They would really shine when I polished them with a rag.
I loved lighting the copper fire for the Saturday night baths. I remember whistling while I did this. I was always whistling. My eldest brother taught me to whistle. It took time but I finally got the knack of it. I remember the exact spot it happened. It was in the little garden between the washhouse and the track near the wood heap. Sometimes I would help with the ironing. We had a flat iron. A little iron that heated up on top of the stove. The other one was bigger and the handle had to be lifted to put red hot coals in it. . '’Never put in a burning piece of wood” Mum would say "or there will be smoke everywhere”. One day I did put in a piece of wood and Mum saw smoke coming from the little chimney. "You had better take out that piece of burning wood” she instructed. I only did the easy things like hankies and pillowslips etc.
We three girls had our turn at clearing the table, washing up and drying the dishes too. When I was about 12 I wanted to make a skirt. I remember pestering Mum to come with me to Mr. Mitchell's shop to get some material. I gave her the bit of coin I had (probably from the Christmas pudding) and we went to the shop. I picked out some green cotton material. Then Mum had to show me how to make this peasant skirt with a wide waist band and gathered skirt. I wore it proudly because I had made it myself — with Mum's help of course.
When I was thirteen, I wanted to earn some money.
Mrs. Cashen who lived in the single fronted house next to the Post Office wanted someone to sweep floors etc and do some ironing too. I rode my bike and did two hour's work for her on a Saturday morning. She sometimes went out while I was there. One day when she was home (thank goodness) I was ironing away and put the iron on a flimsy nightie. What a fright I got. There was a big hole and it was stuck to the iron. She was kind to me and told me not to worry, but I felt awful about it.
I spent quite a few Saturday mornings there until one day when she was out and I had nearly finished, Mr. Cashen came staggering in smelling of beer. I quickly put away the broom and got on my bike and peddled furiously home telling Mum "I'm not going back there.” Mum explained to Mrs. Cashen.
It was quite safe for us to ride our bikes home in the dark on our own from a Church meeting. We had a torch fitted on to the bike. I remember Mavis, Mum and I walking down the track one night. We really slid down the track from the gate, as it was so muddy. Our shoes were a mess but they dried out by the fire and then the mud came off when scraped with a knife. The gravel area in front of the shed would become orange coloured mud when it rained. Mum hated it. There was a boot scraper at the back veranda.
I remember I walked home from the pictures at the hall (someone had taken me there). After the pictures were over my cousin, Keith walked with me down Church Road then to part of his father's orchard. When we got to Morrison's paddock, I was on my own. It was after 11 p.m I was quite scared of every movement. I walked through bushy paddocks then came to the last part of the lane where we walked to school. I remember running the last bit up hill to get away from the dark. I only did that once and looking back I’m surprised Mum had allowed it. She was still up listening to radio. I would have been 14 or 15 then.
I often wondered what I would do after I left school. I loved creating different styles with Mum’s old hats and I loved flowers. I always had them on my dressing table I shared with Mavis. I might be a milliner or a florist. Just as well I became a florist because hats went out of fashion.
I was nearly fifteen and at secondary school. I was getting on the bus to go home from Box Hill and Margaret Smith (a neighbour I’d grown up with) came to me and said Mrs. Ellis from the flower shop wanted to see me. Margaret worked at the shop. I went along and she asked me would I like to work there. WOULD I !!! ------- I started work on the 11th November 1947, exactly one month before my fifteenth birthday. I really caught on well to the work. My first wage was 18/- ($1.80). Six weeks later it was £1.2.0 ($2.20).
I enjoyed my years there until I married and went back for ten months later. Mr. Ellis was a lovely chap and the only time he went crook at me was when I didn’t give him a phone message about some fruit trees.
One day a lady asked me for 2 dozen begonias. When I took them to her she said they were not the right ones so I bought them myself and took them home and planted them in our new garden. They lasted for years.
I learned to do wiring and make wreaths. I really loved the work. I was the junior and when there was a late or an only floral tribute to take to Padburys Funeral Parlour on the corner in Whitehorse Road it was my job to deliver it. I had quite an experience one day.
I was to deliver a wreath one morning. When I got there I let myself in, went down the passage and down some steps into the little chapel. Down the front of the chapel was the casket with a lace cover over it. I could see the nose of the person through the lace. I really thought whoever it was, was trying to come to life again. I could hear heavy breathing. Really heavy breathing in and out, in and out. I got the shock of my life and dropped the wreath on the front seat and ran back to the shop.
Prank Boyle, who worked there, saw me walk in and said "What's the matter with you?" I was pale, my eyes dilated and shaking I'm told.
I told him what had happened and he roared laughing. He thought it quite a joke. I had only been at work a few weeks. When he next went down to the funeral parlour he told the wife. Mrs. Ives. She thought about it and remembered she had been vacuuming the room upstairs so that was the heavy breathing I could hear - the machine going backwards and forwards.
Whenever I had to go there again I would ring the doorbell and wait for someone to come to the passage. When I next went down about two weeks later, I did that and Mrs. Ives took me into the chapel where I saw a small casket. "Oh it’s a baby." I said. She opened the lid and there was the loveliest plump baby but it was so pale. I got another bit of a shock. Perhaps she was trying to help me overcome my experience of being scared previously when I was there on my own. I soon got used to funeral parlours. I was never allowed to live that down by my workmates. I was teased about it for years.
We had our busiest time on Mothers' Day weekend. I was given the kitchen to work in making fans of flowers as they were called. There were dozens of them and my fingers would be sore by the end of each long day. When we had a large funeral to do the same thing would, happen - making dozens of sheaf shape flowers. Towards the end of my time there I was chief sheaf maker. I reckon I used to get a bit cranky and wonder why some of the others didn't do some. I enjoyed my years of working at Ellis' although I really feel I did not go to my full potential in the florist work.
I had been learning the violin at school and continued my lessons going to Miss Lemin above Taits corner store at lunchtime. One day going home on the bus a couple of boys called out "What have you got in your case Olive, your lunch?" Well - I never carried that violin case again and stopped learning. The bridge constantly broke with the tension of the strings too. I always said I got as far as The Blue Danube and drowned because the bridge broke. That was the last piece I learned to play.
Everyone at work had a holiday in the summer months and Mr. Ellis gave me a week off even though I'd only been there for 12 weeks.
My brother had come home for his holidays and brought his girlfriend Joan down from N.S.W. She was 4 years older than me and we spent a lot of the time together that week and got to know each other. We went to the Zoo and another time to the City. We went to two theatres and overstayed our time and came home late. We got to Box Hill to find the bus had gone. At the other end Will saw the bus and realised we were not on it so he had to drive to Box Hill wondering what had happened.
He spotted us just as we were about to start walking ------ We did get a telling off. "I told your Mother I’d look after you bringing you down here and you go gallivanting around and I don't know where you are," he told Joan. We both remember this so well.
In January or February 1949, when I was sixteen, something happened to change our way of living. We moved house!! Dad had bought a house up on the main road from his sister May. Before we could move in Dad had to take the tenants to Court as they refused to move out.
The day of moving came and the two trucks were loaded. Will tells the story of a broom handle sticking up in the back of the old Chev truck and someone put a bucket on it. I wouldn't mind betting he did it. What a sight going up the track!!! The new house was called "COO-EE". Mum loved its name.
Oh, the luxury of flicking on a switch and a light came on. We had a nice sink and hot water coming from a tap. The laundry was inside too so we no longer had a "washhouse". The inside bathroom was pure bliss — but we still had to go outside to the toilet. It was not far away in a little shed. It was easier for Dad too because the night man came to change the pan. Later we got a septic tank and a pull chain toilet.
We had a big kitchen and laundry in one room, a wood stove for cooking, a separate dining room with an open fireplace, a lounge room and three bedrooms.
It was luxury after the old place and what we had been used to. We only had to go out the front gate and there was the bus. No riding bikes hard and fast if we were running a bit late to get up to the road for the bus.
The two older boys still at home stayed in the old home for a while until a sleep out was built for them on the veranda a few months later.
Dad and the boys drove down to the orchard each day. The cow had to be milked as before and the milk had to be separated on the machine, as I don’t remember it being at the new place.
The new property had a lemon orchard behind the house too. There was over an acre I think. There were cypress trees on the west side and they sheltered the house.
Mum was in her element. A nice front garden and lovely green lawn. Things she had never had. We had a big pineapple palm in the lawn and we sat out there on the hot nights. Mum spent a lot of time in the garden and the begonias I had brought home were put each side of the new path Dad had put in from the front gate. It was as if he was trying to help her forget the dry gravel and the mud. Whenever we had visitors or friends passing Mum would give them cuttings or plants from her garden, which was full of all kinds of perennials.
Mum had always wanted a hot house to strike cuttings. Later Reg and Edwin built a small one for her and pottering there gave her great pleasure. She won prizes for her specimens of different flowers.
It was nothing to walk to the Church to meetings at night in those days. I was saved from what could have-been a terrible experience by a neighbour's quick thinking. I'd walked up to the Church and later Vera Miller, an older person went visiting up near the Church. As she passed the hall, she heard voices saying "they had just seen her go past and were waiting for her when she came back". When Vera got to her friend's place, she phoned her people to go to our place to see if I'd gone to the Church. I had, so a message was left of what had been heard. Harry rode his bike up to meet me and we walked home on the other side of the road. We saw a group of youths in the shadows of the car park entrance to the hall. Our dear God was looking after me that night through Vera Miller.
Life was pretty wonderful. I enjoyed my teenage years. Saturday night it was pictures at the Hall. Dad would come with us. I remember Alan Williamson was the projectionist. Sometimes the picture went off and Allan had to go on stage and tell what had happened. He got a few boos. There would be another interval. I loved my work too. When I was 17? in 1950 a young fellow called at the shop on Fridays delivering plants. I think there was a bit of matchmaking going on. When the young fellow was backing the truck down the lane Frank Boyle would call out "Rimmies are here 01". The young fellow was meant to hear this too.
We were both shy and I would hide in the toilet for a while, gradually we lost our shyness and we spent Friday lunchtimes together — and so our romance started.
We went out together on the 3rd June 1950. I remember I went to Marj and Bob Rogerson's wedding in the afternoon and rushed home to wash hair and get ready to catch the 7 o’clock bus to Box Hill. We were going to the pictures. Ken brought me home and while we were saying good night, Mum called "Are you there Olive?" "Yes. Coming in now Mum". Ken had to run all the way back to White's Corner and get the same bus on its way back to Box Hill and then the train to Camberwell. Sometimes the driver would be waiting for him. Mum felt sorry for him and a few weeks later, he was staying the night, sleeping on the lounge divan. It couldn't have been too comfortable for him. I think Mum fell in love with him a bit too. She was pleased I had a Christian young fellow courting me. When he stayed over, he spent Sunday with us too.
I used to visit Lorraine Banks at Castlemaine when I had holidays and at Easter too. I went up for a holiday and Castlemaine was being made into a Borough. The Governor of Victoria, Sir Dallas Brooks was there and there were floats in a street procession. I was a G.P.O. telephonist for the afternoon on their float with Lorraine in the procession.
Ken and I had been keeping company for a few months and I was having a few doubts about whether he was the one I wanted to be with. I went on holidays to visit old friends of Dads at Wodonga and Tallangatta Valley. While there, I slept in a dark big room in a big bed and I could hear someone calling in the night. It sounded like "Olive" "O 1 i v e". Someone WAS calling me. Was it Ken? He had written telling me he was missing me and loved me.
I woke next morning to see the window faced a flock of sheep and it was their bleating I had heard in the night. While I was away, I made up my mind he was the one I wanted to be with. It was lovely to see him again.
Ken and I had been together a few months when I got a letter addressed to "Miss Olive, Doncaster, Australia". It was an airletter sent from the U.K. It was from Ken's uncle. Alan Williams was the postmaster in those days and as I was the only "Olive" he knew he sent it to me. What a lovely surprise. Everyone knew everyone in those days.
In November 1951, I had a flight to Swan Hill to visit Lorraine Banks who had moved there earlier. I think I was the first in the family to fly on a holiday though Reg did a bit of flying in the Air Force during the war. Dad and Mum took me to Essendon Airport, me sitting between them in the old Chev truck and not saying very much. I was a bit nervous about it all. The plane was a Douglas DC 3. Dad told me the wing dipped on take-off. What a wonderful experience. I’m up in the air. What a wonderful view. It wasn't long before we got a few bumps (air pockets) and everyone was sick including the hostess, couldn't eat or drink.
There was no radar in those days and Swan Hill had a dust storm so the plane went around and around the aerodrome until it was clear to land. We were one hour late landing. Mr. Banks had waited all that time for me and must have been worried. He would not let me fly home again so I had to get a ticket refund and go home on the train. Even though I was sick, I still enjoyed the experience and would have gone up again to come home. When I got into the car on my arrival, I found I'd left my hat on the plane so we had to go back for it.
I had a lovely holiday there and was getting a bit excited because a week after I got home again Ken and I were to become engaged on the 10th December my 19th birthday. We had already bought the ring and I was to receive my first watch too. I can remember Lorraine telling her friends that I was getting engaged when I went home. It was an exciting part of my life.
We were engaged and so came the time to save and collect things for my "Glory Box". I already had a few things. I remember riding my bike to work to save the bus fare. I did it for a few days and then gave up. It wasn't worth all the energy and it was uphill to Box Hill anyway.
Another way to help save came my way. Mr. Ellis had a Ladies Night at the Masonic Lodge and needed someone for washing dishes. The payment was £5 ($10) so I offered my services. I'd never seen so many dishes. I was flat out. I might have bitten off more than I could chew as the saying goes. Ken and Edwin had gone to the pictures and when they finished at 11 p.m. I was still at the dishes. They helped me dry the rest and a few men in the Lodge felt sorry for this 19 year old taking on the job and they tossed in and gave me extra. I went home with £20 ($40) that night. I was very tired going to bed after 1 a.m. Now I knew how the girls felt working at Coles Cafeteria. All those dishes.
Sometimes I would go to Ken's parent's place after Sunday School and he would dink me on his bike. It was a long way to Hawthorn East. We wrapped some old rag around the “bar for me to sit on. I remember I was always glad to get to our destination. I caught the train to Box Hill next day. We did this many times.
Later on Ken bought a Rugby car from a friend. We thought we were made. Dad got Ken interested in buying a block of land in Doncaster so he had to sell the car and it was back to the bike again.
When the time came to go to War Service for a loan to build a house they (War Service) didn't want to build on the block in Doncaster so we bought a house and land in Blackburn South and the sale of the block in Doncaster was the deposit. Many times we travelled over to see the progress of the building in the old Chev truck on Sunday.
We were engaged nearly ten months when we were both in my cousin Keith's wedding group and thought about a date to get married ourselves. We chose the 14th February 1953. I would be 20 and Ken 29. Mum was rapt that we were going to be married on "St. Valentine's Day". She was a bit of a romantic at heart.
The time came for our marriage. It was rather a hot day. Everything was ready. Mrs. Ellis had said her girls who had been there five years would have their wedding flowers given to them. I asked her to make a spray of flowers and small trailer and the maid's bouquets and ribbons. Imagine my disappointment when I opened the box to find all the flowers the same bouquets and ribbons. Mum knew I was upset and wanted to alter it. How I wanted that. However, I said "No. Looks like Mrs. Ellis gave me what she wanted me to have and they were a gift to me". I had to accept them.
It is time to walk down the aisle my arm in Dad's and the other one holding the bouquet shaking. I felt wonderful but nervous. As we reached Ken at the front of the Church, I let go of Dad and stood beside Ken. He reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze and all nervousness left me. I knew I was going to be "all right with him".
So my life on the orchard had ended as does my story.
Orchard of Memories.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I thank god goodness and mercy has followed me all the days of my life.
Olive N.
Australian National Airways. Essendon. Melbourne, Australian. Nov 1951. Crouch. Passenger to Swan Hill
1975 Seven little Australians growing up. The day of our father's funeral. Back Row: Will 53; Reg 51; Edwin 49; Harry 45. Front Row: Mavis 40; Olive 42; Betty 47.
1950 Ken and Olive
Mum & Olive 1949
Olive & Rex. Sleepout, Oak tree in background. The house on Main road was pulled down. McDonalds is there now.
Father in Heaven, We Thank You
This is the wedding song (that) my mother wrote on the occasion of my marriage.
Tune: The Church's One Foundation
Father in Heaven we thank Yon For all your love and care; Come now and shed a blessing To those who tarry here. Through dangers You have brought us Unto the present day. Please be our guide forever. Be with us all the way. To this and other unions God grant a blessing Lord; And through Your great creations. We see Your written word. Grant them Your earthly blessing. Their love in You secure. And have them in Your keeping Their home forever pure.
My mother gave this letter to me on my wedding day.
"Coo-ee", Main Rd, Doncaster Feb 13, 1953Dear Olive. So your wedding day is dawning; In your wedding dress you'lll be; For you my heart is longing; Your happiness to see; I know you be be happy; For he whom you have chosen; Has always proved most worthy; Just excuse this little prose; We'll miss you greatly Darling; But then, as Will has said; Mum's family is a-growing; So let her not be sad; God bless & keep you always; With love we call true blue; I'll pray for you through every day; His love will see you through; I'll watch for you both coming; And love you both as one; I'll look on Ken as another son; Hurrah for our returning.
Yours lovingly Mum.
PostScript
Ken and I lived in Balwyn for 5 months; Blackburn South for over 28 years; and now here at Frankston nearly 16 years. We had two children: John Kenneth - 14th August, 1954; Janet Elizabeth - 3rd February, 1956 (now Drougas). We have 6 grandchildren: Marika; Kate; loren and Lisa (twins) from Janet and Jim; and Kishen and Kishendra (twins) from Dhana and John. We have now been married over 43 years. Our dear Mother passed away 20th October, 1962 aged 63 years. I was privileged to be
with her in my home. Dad passed away 14th January, 1975 aged 82 years. Edwin was the last to see him. The old orchard is nearly all gone. We are pleased the oak tree and the old pine tree still stand in a park. Where the house was is a Boulevard now. There is a Henry Street nearby and a Stanley Street and a Crouch Court on the old property which is currently being developed by brother Harry Crouch,
Olive N, 9th July, 1996.
Hardy Henry (Newspaper extract from unknown source)
My great grandfather and grandfather:
STATISTICIANS claim that life expectancy is rising, and that last century’s lifespans were shorter than now. They can’t have counted in Doncaster.
Our records are liberally laced with nonagenarians (between 90 and 100 years old). Take the story of Henry William Crouch . . .
He was bom In Camberwell, London, in 1820 and “died with his boots on”, still working in his orchard, in 1913, age 93.
Henry married Sarah Lewis when he was 26 and migrated to AusErana six ye5s later with the help of a fourteen pounds five shillings loan for the fare from the Family Colonisation Loan Society.
In their first home in the suburbs of Melbourne Town, their only daughter and two sons died. Henry, wanting healthier air and a living he could pass on to his two remaining sons, Henrv and Percival (known as Pert), began walking the mne miles to Doncaster, looking for suitable land.
It was 1862 when he bought 30 acres in Strip Rd. (now Church Rd.), from Robert Campbell, steward of the Carlton Estate, for 337 pounds ($674).
Like most of his fellow would-be orchardists, Henry Crouch had little, if any, experience with tilling and tending the land.
Painter’s cap
He had been a waiter, a laborer, and a (house) painter. A relic of one of his cast-off trades, a white painter’s cap, became Henry’s local emblem.
He was always to be seen wearing it as he worked, whether clearing and planting his land or building his house from an old ship and wattle and daub.
Eight-vear-old Henry jnr. had an important job helping his father with the building - holding the candle so his father could see as he worked on it by night after the usual gardening and orchard work was done.
The tired little boy would fall asleep, to be woken by his father asking him if could see. No, he muttered. “Well,” asked his father, “how do you expect me to?” r
And the candle would be put in his hand again. He grew to be a shire councillor for 10 years, and four times Shire President.
The next year, the Crouches moved to Doncaster central, as that was where some Baptists lived. With them, Henry snr. pioneered Doncaster Church of Christ, and the church became the focal point of their lives.
The family prospered, and 10 years later, over the following 10 years, they were able to buy land in Williamsons Rd. on which six generations lived and worked over the next 122 years.
In 1883. when he was 63, Sarah died and in only 2 1/2 months Henry William remarried, to Harriet Lowan Tainton, and had four more children.
Young Henry was serving his fourth term as Shire President in 1913 when his father was backing a young horse with a load of fruit into the fruit house. The horse was startled by something and bolted.
The 3-year-old hung manfully to the reins and was carried along for eight metres before being thrown against a shed. But a wheel of the wagon ran over Henry, killing him.
Henry jnr.
Proof Reading: Lynton Clay 2023
Source: Booklet self published by Olive Crouch-Napier. Permission to publish online given to DTHS in July2023.
Original Scan Olive Maude Crouch married Kenneth Napier, Doncaster Church of Christ, 14 Feb 1953. Photo from Lynton Clay via Facebook
