Chapter 4

In or around1933 I started a scrapbook into which went clippings from the newspaper. Only recently I came upon it, gaining much pleasure from the induced nostalgic feeling. “Among the items in the clippings was a photograph of a waterspout just out to sea from Southport. It occurred in the afternoon of the previous day, and the class saw it from the school precinct. It was the first most of us had seen. Soon after seeing it a strong electric storm broke with one very powerful lightning bolt right at the school gate. We linked the lightning with the waterspout, but it may have been coincidence.

Also in the scrapbook was a photo of a robot that was man sized and performed “marvellous” feats on command. It was quite early in the development of robots (in those days pronounced as if it were French). It was on show in one of the shops in Nerang Street.

News of Adolf Hitler coming to power in Germany was beginning to be featured at this time. We little knew that he would be responsible for the war in which so many lives were lost, including that of my brother Richard Graham (Dick). His regime caused the death of over 6 million civilian Jews, as well as the losses and devastation of the war itself.

One of the most interesting series of clippings detailed the origins of place names in Queensland. “The Nomenclature of Queensland” was and still probably is of fundamental interest to all Queenslanders even though few would have heard of this collection of origins of names. Compiled as it was some 60- years ago it is likely to be more authentic than would be a similar collection today. One notices in programs purporting to give the origin of an expression or word, that those who are running such programs today are not in a position to know just how often such an expression was used long ago, nor in just what context it was used. In this way errors creep in and become statements of fact. However the series mentioned above probably still exists in the files of the “Courier Mail”, or in one of our libraries. In the scrapbook I had included some photos of cars and aircraft, as I was interested in these. I may have mentioned elsewhere that Dick, too, was interested in these and showed great skill and patience in making balsa wood models of cars and planes, usually replicas of planes of the first World War which was still a topic some14 years after it was finished. I might say that today World War 2 is still a topic here even 53 years after it finished.

During the years to 1935 we had two different cars. In this we were most fortunate, as there were many people without a car at all. The first was a Plymouth coupe of about 1929-1930 vintage that Dad bought from his sister-in-law Ill (wife of Will Cottew) in Sydney. Will had died from the effects of World War one. The little blue Plymouth had two doors and hence one seat, plus a luggage boot. Some interesting engineering converted the boot to a rumble of “dicky” seat to accommodate my brother and me. I can still remember the thrill of the rush of air in this open seat as we drove along at all of 35 miles per hour i.e. 60 km/hour. We had one pair of goggles to ward off dust and flying objects and were supposed to share the goggles equally. This gave us the chance to look at what was coming rather than the faster moving sideways scene. The forward view was blocked by the bulk of the rear of the front cabin unless one could stand the blast of air when one peered around the cabin. Drives were usually just around Southport and its Hinterland, but occasionally we went to Brisbane. The roads were not the highways of today. Much was gravel road that was dusty in dry weather and often muddy or even boggy in wet weather. Corrugations formed readily by some mysterious method that only the engineers understood and this made for a slow and rickety journey. Such roads were referred to as corduroy, originating from tree trunks laid across swamp. A few experimental areas had short distances of concrete road and others bitumen. One of these rare stretches was referred to in the family as “Daddy’s half inch of bitumen”.

The car gave yeoman service but as we grew bigger a larger sedan became desirable. This goal was satisfied around 1932 by the purchase of a Chrysler sedan of about 1929 vintage that performed well except when we tried to drive up to the nearby mountains such a Springbrook. The route traversed about 6 streams that varied in depth at the fording places according to the amount of recent rain. We never did make it to the top as water would be splashed by the fan blades back on to the distributor resulting in short circuits and failing engine. Had we then had the “Gladwrap” of today we could have prevented this happening. The grades on the mountain roads were steep and curves narrow and dangerous. One was morally required to sound the horn (toot) at each bend to warn the oncoming traffic of one’s presence. Other trips we took were often short but provided a break from simply being at home or at school. We often took a picnic lunch to areas where there were no buildings, but where temporary gravel roads led into the bush or to the beach. Such roads were Alfred, Aubrey and Arthur Streets at Broadbeach. There were no houses in sight and the beaches were empty. Today there is no vacant land in those streets and many of the houses look very old. (What does that make me? Very very old!)

Of minor historical interest is the fact that Dad sold the little Plymouth coupe to a neighbour, Will Stobbs. With it he set up a taxi service, that was probably the first in Southport. At least I cannot remember any other. Will Stobbs persevered with the small car for some time and moved up into a new Ford sedan in the late 1930’s. With this car his business grew. His clients included groups of boys from TSS sharing the cost of a trip to town to save the long walk. Later, too, when the school was taken over by the United States Armed Forces for use as a hospital, Stobbs was frequently on the road to the school, and probably made a secure living from this service.

There had been a train service running from Brisbane to Southport (with a junction allowing a sideline to Mudgeeraba) for many years but the service was discontinued after the war. Now some 50 years later, at great expense, a new railway line has been completed from Brisbane to Robina (near Mudgeeraba). The ways of the bureaucrats are indeed strange. Going back to the railway of the past, I remember the attraction each summer of the radio picnic arranged by one of Brisbane’s radio stations. Trainloads of people came down from Brisbane for the day. Others came by car. The picnic was held on the beach at Main Beach. Music, competitions, and entertainment went on all day and the exhausted masses trundled back to the city at the close of the day. The numbers of people ran into several thousands. The papers on the next day usually carried an aerial photo of the hordes on the beach and in the water. What a change it was from the 50 or 100 bathers usually present on one day at the weekend in those days.

Many of the 3000 or so in Southport went to the pictures on a Saturday afternoon. The choice of theatre was between two- the Pier or the Thams Regnant (later changed to Regent). The films were mostly Westerns, comedies or cops and robbers. Dick and I were to be picked up by car as sometimes was arranged, so we walked down Nerang Street, glancing at the cars parked in the centre of the street. We did not see our car! Our dismay increased as we walked along. We heard a toot and on looking for the source we were amazed to see Dad and Mum sitting in the front of a brand new Chevrolet sedan of 1934 vintage. Imagine- our first new car. That surge of happiness never really abated and we enjoyed that car for the 6 years that we had it.