Living History
The Great Depression of the 1930s Part B
Music was a happy part of that era. We had a piano and a gramophone from better days and they were used often. Dad played the mouth organ - guaranteed to set the dog howling. When we moved to inner-city Albert Park, 'community singing' was all the go. In Melbourne, the main venue was a hall in Collins Street, The compere was Charlie Vaude. I think it was run by a radio station and it was hugely popular. Inhibitions went out the door as people sang together - sometimes in harmony, sometimes in different keys. There were prizes - nothing elaborate - but the feeling of all joining together in happiness was strong.
Clubs were another cheap way of getting exercise , meeting people and seeing new places. Mystery hikes were popular: you went to an appointed railway station bought a ticket and got a map of your destination. With a packed lunch and a bottle of drink you set off mainly it was cross country to another train line then into a special train or carriage and back to the city. Cycle clubs did much the same thing. Not many young people owned cars, bikes were the main transport apart from the train or tram.
Albert Park adjoined South Melbourne. On Saturdays, when South Melbourne football club played at home, the gates to the outer ground were opened for the fans to see the last quarter of the match for free - if you didn’t mind standing up in a quagmire of mud in the Melbourne winter. South Melbourne was a real community based team at that time and meant a lot to their fiercely loyal fans. My grandfather, always a flamboyant character, barracked so loudly that women supporters of the rival team used to beat him down with their umbrellas.
As you can see, we still found inexpensive ways to enjoy ourselves even after leaving our much-loved home in Box Hill. Moving to the inner city was a vast contrast to our former years. The whole atmosphere seemed grim cold and grey like the buildings in South Melbourne which was originally called Emerald Hill. Relics of a earlier age such as the Town Hall, Government Offices and churches were large and impressive but right next door were narrow lanes housing rows of small, shabby cottages - home to many of the unemployed. When I went there at the age of ten years the whole place seemed desolate. As I grew and the years passed I found these South Melbourne people to be strong, resilient, typical 'Aussie battlers' with a dry sense of humour. Over those years I gradually understood the feelings and circumstances of two generations. My South Melbourne was a large part of my education.
Poverty often meant that these people could not afford any type of warmth, often no electricity for lighting or cooking, in sickness not enough money to buy medicines. It must be said that the local doctors rarely refused to see patients even if they knew there was very little hope of being paid at the time. Unlike outer suburbs, there were hospitals with easy access to public transport and a large outpatient and casualty section - usually overcrowded. To many patients, the treatment was free. Still on the topic of health, at that time we had a wide selection of lodges and friendly societies. Many families tried to keep up memberships for the medical and pharmacy benefits available. 'The Dispensary' was a depot where members of the societies had access to free or affordable medicines and other pharmaceuticals.
Albert Park where we lived was mainly a residential area, bordered by the sea, the Gasworks, St Kilda and South Melbourne. From our place it was possible to walk almost anywhere we wanted to go. In those depression years during school holidays we could entertain ourselves for almost no cost. Living one block back from the sea, the beach was always there for a swim and a sunbathe (we had never heard of skin cancer) or just sitting around with our mates. Here I must emphasise the fact that we were able to roam all the interesting places without having to be in the care of an adult all the time. Of course many times a parent did come along to make a family outing. These were the days when you could slip out to the shops without having to lock the whole house up.
We lived close to Luna Park. We could go to Port Melbourne and watch the ocean liners in their glamorous hey-day as they sailed off to the accompaniment of streamers , balloons and music. We could pack a lunch and walk to the Botanic gardens or the splendid new Shrine of Remembrance. There were concerts in the local rotunda or bandstand - drums, trumpets and other wind instruments played by talented musicians. A cheap tram fare to the city took many students to the Melbourne Art Gallery, public Library and Museum thus creating an interest in the arts and further education.
The official area of parkland known simply as 'Albert Park' held all sorts of interests. At weekends there were all types of sports, including sailing on the Albert Park Lake which was little more than four foot deep.
When school went back we were within walking distance of our girls high school - a bright new building given to the government by Sir Macpherson-Robertson - a multi-millionaire who started a local chocolate factory - remember MacRobertsons chocolate frogs!
The bad years were coming to an end by the time I went to high school. Soon after moving to Albert Park, my Dad found a job, for the for the first time for many years - as a night-watchman - and there was a regular wage coming into the family
One place that I recall with fond memories was 'Red Square'. Friday night was late night shopping in Melbourne. Not like today’s frantic rush around the supermarket. If we needed to go to the shops at all it was the wool shop or the paper shop or the lending library. Nice respectable places to go to before the gathering at Red Square. The old cable tram would come clanking down the slope - bell ringing to warn stragglers crossing the road - and swing round into the area where several streets bordered an open space with room for a crowd of people. Along with the bell-ringing came the sound of 'Onward Christian Soldiers' as the Salvation Army Band marched down to its appointed corner near the shops. The other lot who were there to save our souls and bring us peace and jobs were already taking up their spots. They had their pamphlets ready - maybe a stool to stand on - and a bottle of something to keep the throat moist. There on a Friday night the soap box orators were in great voice. This was the energetic district of Melbourne Ports and they were the political conscience of the area - articulate and fired up with their beliefs- wide open to lively comments from the crowd no matter what their persuasion. It was street theatre at its absolute best. We often went with Mum to the square during late Friday night shopping. She wasn’t a heckler - neither were we - but we did get the message. Mum was a great devotee of R.G. Menzies - a really true blue liberal. On the way home from the square she would comment on the 'red-raggers' - uncouth louts and anyone else who had spoken who was obviously not a Liberal. I think we noted everything she said but I am sure she did not notice from our replies that her daughters, even as early teenagers , were becoming 'politically pink'. Sadly, the days of the soap box orators are gone, but what a vital part of our community they were.
Altogether, these were happy years for me. I was about six years old living in a fresh new environment when the economy started to pinch for many, people, even before the big crash started the period known as the Great Depression. By the time it subsided - the worst was over by 1936 - I was thirteen, living in an established environment from which we derived a great deal of our worldly education.
The days of the Great Depression were sometimes known as 'the hungry years'. We never want to see those times again but when I look back I see what a great education in living they were. I don’t regret having lived and learned the lessons of tolerance, humility, humour, courage, the power of money and the old ever-green 'mateship'.
In my opening remarks I mentioned that Dad’s physical condition placed limits on his form of employment, this meant that over the Depression years our whole life style was controlled by his health. After moving to Albert Park he found a job as a night-watchman (hardly fitting for a man who loved the country and the outdoors so much). We girls were now more independent - although that was partly because I left school at 14 as many people did when the family was struggling. My sister stayed until she qualified as a teacher.
Life was easier for us all and with the advent of World War II my father was able to go to a full time job - once again as a lift operator.- in an air-force office block. He stayed there happily until 1947, when he was taken to a hospital. His damaged lungs were finally the cause of his death. The depression years had ruled most of his adult life. When he left us he was just 52 years old.
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