Welcome to Season 1, Episode 9 of the Dairy Lane
Project. Under my podcast program, Therese Makes
History. My name's Therese Sweeney. I'm a social
historian, also university trained many years
ago in media technologies. This program is entirely
produced, written and directed by myself. Season
1 is supported by two local companies. TurfCo
operates in Jaspers Brush. It's 40 years in operation
and now our region's largest agricultural employer.
Thank you, Gavin Rogers, for supporting me this
entire season one. Additionally, McGoldrick Estate
Agents in Bury, a family dynasty operating locally
since 1987. Tim McGoldrick came on board. Halfway
through this season and I'm so grateful. McGoldrick
Estate agents sell luxury properties, gorgeous
homesteads, farms and housing as well as beautiful
guest accommodation. Both of these two are sticking
with me and supporting the remaining two episodes
in this season one. Episode nine, The Wiley Pioneers
on Wiley's Creek. James Wiley was born in 1840
with his brother Thomas, born 1836, migrated
from Northern Ireland to Port Jackson in 1860.
Their father, Charles, with wife, Jane Maguire,
and four additional children followed shortly
after on the ship Hotspur. It cost Charles 28
pounds to bring out the remaining family members.
James and his brother Thomas were men with vision
and savvy business acumen under the careful eye
of Father Charles. They contributed to the early
development of Kangaroo Valley, transforming
a land parcel into a small township with a main
street. Father Charles was an early leaseholder
in Foxground, which at the time fell under Gerringong
Municipality. Thomas made his fortune, then headed
to Bangalow. James also held land and business
interests up north. Other siblings headed north
too. Charles passed away in 1888 and is buried
in Gerringong Cemetery. His second wife, Anne
Hetherington, must have followed his sons north
after his death as she is buried near Bangalow.
James married his wife Mary Hannigan in 1870
at Broughton Creek. Together they had eight children.
James purchased a parcel of land near Wiley's
Creek from Mr Gardner in 1855, some 78 acres.
Further land acquisitions totaling 270 acres
were made under the Berry estate from other landowners
Andersons and Thorburns. The Wiley land parcels
are currently being researched by the family
and once titles are clear I'll look forward to
them being archived with this project down the
track. Two of James Wiley's sons William born
1873 and Frederick born 1878 were the inheritors
of these lands on opposite sides of Wiley's Creek.
William married Kate Pestel in Kiama in 1907.
This podcast engages the only surviving Wiley
of Grandfather William, who actually farmed the
land. Her name is farmer Margaret Hollingworth,
Nii Wiley. She's now 80 years of age and lives
in Nowra. James, her paternal great -grandfather,
died in 1915 at his home of retirement named
Kelvin Grove in Scenic Drive, Nowra, a two -storey
home later known as Mandalay Guesthouse. He was
aged 75 at the time of his death and died of
a stroke. He is buried in the Methodist portion
at Nowra Public Cemetery. He was a well -known
farmer in the region and highly regarded in the
district. Margaret's father, Keith, was born
that same year, 1915. He married Ethel James
in 1940. Keith, with brother John, known as Jack,
and their sister Margaret inherited the land
portion on the southern side of Wiley's Creek
from their father William. Frederick's sons,
Frederick and William, known as Fred and Bill,
farmed the northern side of Wiley's Creek, where
Silo's estate is now located. Today I introduce
to you Margaret Hollingworth, daughter of Keith
Wiley, She later married Peter Hollingworth from
Nowra. Margaret farmed with her father on the
property. I look forward to you hearing this
vast recording. We covered a lot of territory
in an hour. I hope you enjoyed it as much as
I enjoyed meeting Margaret and an extraordinary
human being for an 80 -year -old. Here she is.
I'm going to be speaking with Margaret Hollingworth,
who was a Wiley. There's only one of you left,
I believe. That's right. I'm the only one left.
I have cousins, but I'm the only one out of our
family. So to position it immediately, Wiley's
Creek was named after your broader family. It
certainly was. How does that make you feel? Proud.
What year were you born and where were you born?
I was born in Nowra in 1944 at the Edmond Hospital.
And what was the Edmond Hospital? Where was that
located? It was in Junction Street, Nowra, up
near the showground. Now a lot of people were
born there. Was that the only hospital operating?
Yes. What were your parents' full names? And
if you recall their year of birth and... Where
they might have been born. Dad was Keith James
Wiley. He was born in 1915 in the front room
of the old homestead, which is still there. And
mum was Jean Ethel James, and she was born in
1912. And I'm not sure where she was born, but
I think it was Tomarong or somewhere around here.
My dad married my mum, Jean. In 1940, Mum used
to ride a bike to the farm before they were married
and they dated for six years before they got
married. So she did a lot of riding. Where was
she riding from? Narra. Narra to Jasper's Brush,
Wiley's Creek. And it would have been a dirt
road then, so it would have been pretty rough.
Dad was a bit slow thinking, I think. They met
at a dance and they dated for six years. So when
you say homestead, tell me about that homestead.
You're pointing to a picture on the wall there
that I'll photograph later. So what road was
that in? That was on the highway on the southern
side of the Wiley's Creek. RMB 264 Jasper's Brush.
What does that mean, RMB? Road mailbox. Was your
mailbox at the front of your house or on the
corner? No, we didn't have one. It was delivered
by the milk. The truck that picked up the milk
delivered our mail from Jaspers Brush post office.
Who ran the post office, do you recall? Yes,
Mr and Mrs Callaghan. What side of the highway?
On the right -hand side heading north, right
opposite Strong's Road. How big was the property
and what was your father doing on the property?
The property was 365 acres. and we were dairy
farmers. It's a big property. How many cows do
you know when you were growing up? Were they
milking in the dairy? Yep, yes. We milked anything
up to 60 cows twice a day. Dad used to run about
100 cattle. Well, some were in milking and some
were dry cows or out calving. He'd have different
paddocks for that sort of stuff? Yes, we had
a dry run which was on the opposite side of Devitt's
Lane. I don't know how many acres it was, but
it was a pretty big paddock and that's where
we used to take the cows. Did you have siblings?
I had one sister, Judith, that was two years
older than me. She passed away six years ago.
We'll just go through the family heritage before
returning to farming. So who was your grandfather
on your father's side? It was William John Taylor
Wiley. Okay. Was he on the same property? Yes,
in the same homestead. Describe the homestead.
How big was it? It was five bedrooms. Originally
it was right up the hill where there's still
a Norfolk Island pine and when it flooded they
couldn't get to milk the cows across the creek
so they decided to move the house. They rolled
it on logs with bullocks down to where it is
today. How long would that have been? What, are
we talking miles or metres? Oh, no, no, no. It'd
be probably half a mile, yeah. How did they do
that? I don't know. Across the creek, and then
they brought a barn down as well, rolled it on
logs and put it where it is today. Dad told us
that. That was before Dad was born. What was
the house made of? Timber, weatherboard. Inside
the walls were all timber, slats. Because people
have asked, how did they move things? They cut
down trees, rolled them onto logs and just kept
moving the logs and keep pulling them. Who was
the original land granted to? How many generations
are we talking? It was back to my great -grandfather.
He migrated? Yes. My great -grandfather came
out from Ireland. He landed in Port Jackson in
January 1860. He came aboard the Alfred. with
his brother Thomas. And they left Liverpool on
18 October 1859 and arrived in Port Jackson 6
January 1860. James was 19 and a labourer, and
Thomas also a labourer, and he was 23. And they
come from Drummond County, Tyrone, Northern Ireland.
James' father, Charles, applied for and was given
a crown grant of 96 acres in Kangaroo Valley.
He came out after James. What was his name? Charles.
And they came out after the others with four
children on the hot spur. And it cost them £28.
You don't know the four children? Yes. Elizabeth,
Isabel, Charles and John. For a short time they
stayed in Kiama before making their home at Broughton
Village. Charles applied for a grant, Crown Grant.
of 96 acres in Kangaroo Valley. Charles was my
great -great -grandfather. Yes. His wife died
and he remarried and he transferred the land,
the title of the land, to two of his sons, Tom
and Charles. That was in Kangaroo Valley. Yes.
And he continued to lease Broughton Village until
his death in 1888. And then Thomas and Charles
in Kangaroo Valley... subdivided 96 acres in
Kangaroo Valley into 274 blocks, which was auctioned
off at the Steam Packet Hotel in Kiama on the
9th of January 1877. And within a short time
the township grew and there were several stores,
two churches, two banks, two hotels, a blacksmith,
public halls and a saddlery. They established
Kangaroo Valley as a township. Where did they
go after that? They would have made a bit of
money. They continued to farm at Broughton Village
when they sold and moved to the north coast to
Bangalow. When did they go, do you know, to Bangalow?
1895. Okay, so who was your great -grandfather?
William John Taylor Wiley, who was Dad's father.
He married Kate Pestle. Yes. They lived in Maroo.
They had five children. Infant died was Hazel.
Another infant died was Keith. And then there
was John, my dad Keith, and Margaret. So he's
got land at this stage. Yes. James farmed the
land, which was my great -grandfather, purchased
by Robert Gardner in 1855, 78 acres. Another
278 acres were acquired from the Berry Estate
and adjoining farms, the Thurbans and the Andersons,
which were over the... hill towards Strong's
Road, the other side of the creek. So how many
kids did James have? There was Robert, Jane,
Frederick, Elizabeth, Isabella, Sarah and Millicent
and William John Taylor. Yes, he married Kate
Pestle at Kiama in 1907. They both passed away
before I was born. So your father inherited the
land? Yes, with his brother and sister. So did
they all farm the land? Yes, yes. Dad's sister
died. She was only very young. I don't know.
I think she died from appendicitis. And then
he farmed with his brother till 1972 when Dad
retired. But before that, his brother wanted
to get off the farm, want to leave the farm and
retire. So Dad had... fellows working for him
and then he had trouble getting somebody so he
asked me to work for him and I did two years
full -time on the farm from 65 to 67. Did you
have to buy into the farm? No no I just worked
I got my meat three meals a day a little pay
and free petrol but I was too busy working I
didn't go anywhere. Where were you living? At
home. I lived at home until I got married. So
the homestead, do you know who built the homestead?
No, I don't. I don't know who built it, but I
know it was called Hazelville because there was
a plaque on the front wall and my Uncle Jack
took it when he left the farm and I don't know
where it is today. Where did the labourers live?
Dad's sister had a little house that his father
had built on the hill. and his sister lived up
there, and then when she died, her husband and
the children moved, and anybody that was helping
Dad lived in that house. You must have decided
to stay milking then, because you were on the
farm, because some people didn't, did they? No,
well, Dad wanted help, and I thought, I'll just,
because I used to work in town in a sports store,
and I thought, oh, yeah, here's my chance. Of
course. Best life, best. best years of my life
up at five and when you hit the pillow at night
you slept describe a day to me you know and what
you were learning you'd get up at five and you'd
go and set up stoke up the fire and the copper
in the dairy to get the hot water to run through
the machines to clean the cows bring the cows
in milk 60 cows then i dad had put the milk the
cans onto the trailer and I'd take them down
to the road and wait for the truck to come and
pick up the four ones and bring back the empties
and then we'd come home we'd have oh you'd feed
the chooks and the calves and come home and have
a hot breakfast be back out in the paddock you'd
either be ploughing or cutting loosen or sowing
corn or filling the silo or baling hay There
was always something to do, and then you'd come
home and have a hot lunch, three -course meal,
back out. Oh, you'd have to have 40 winks after
that, have a little sleep, 20 minutes, and then
back out, milk the cows again, all over again.
So let's focus on the technology. Were you mechanised
when you were working? Yes, we had. Let's talk
about a bit of that. You had machines, and you
had to put the cups. On the cows. Wash the cows
udders first, put the cups on, then go to the
next one and do that. And then when they'd finished,
you'd take them off, rinse the cups, put that
cow out, bring another cow in. Same old routine.
It wasn't much fun when it was stinking hot because
the cows would come in and breathe down your
neck, puffing and blowing because it was hot.
So was there any major issues with the cows?
With you on the land? Yeah, you'd get cows that
would get milk fever after they'd calved and
you had to keep their milk out and not put it
in with the rest of the milk and treat them.
What is milk fever, do you know? Like, from your
understanding. They get infection in the udder.
The milk turns, well, it's like... Humans. Women
can get it too. Astitis. Astitis. And how would
you know? When you milked them by hand, you could
see it was thick and either had blood in it or
they were sore and they'd kick you. How do you
feel about the cows? Love them. They all had
names. Yeah. I can remember there was one cow
that she came in and Dad said, you didn't leg
rope her. I said, no. He said... Gosh, the fellow
that milked beforehand used to leg rope her and
she hated it. This cow didn't like him. She'd
kick him every time. Never bothered me at all.
I'd just pat her and put her in and that was
just one cow. I could walk up to him in the paddock
and pat him. Women would have treated the animals
differently, do you think? A different energy?
Yes, yes, I think so. Different way of handling
them. They didn't roar at them and hit them with
anything or I'd just... Pat them and they'd just
walk up into the stalls. What type of cows were
you milking? We had Frisians, Illawarra Shorthorns.
We had a couple of Ayrshires and a couple of
Jerseys for the cream, for the solids, the milk.
Did you favour a breed yourself? No, no. Similar
temperaments? No, no. The Ayrshires were a bit...
The others weren't, you know, they were easier
to handle, I thought, but I didn't have any problem
with them. But when we were younger, Dad would
be putting a new heifer into the bales and my
sister would be with me and he'd say, come on,
push her up, push her up, and I'd be pushing
the cow and my sister would be pushing me. Jude
wasn't much good with the cattle. You've either
got it or you haven't. She didn't. I just loved
the animals. Had dogs and chooks. What sort of
dogs were... And what were their purpose, if
they had one? Well, we did have working dogs,
like Border Collie and Kelpies. Dad used to have
people come up the back of the mountain hunting
rabbits and foxes. And we had this stray beagle
dog that had sort of... foot and he'd come and
he'd just have an arrest at our place and I fed
him and he followed me everywhere and I used
to get into trouble because I was feeding a dog
that didn't work and we had another lot of people
come with dogs that were going up wanted to know
if I could go up and shooting and dad said yeah
and take that dog with you so I lost me beagle
he was beautiful called him Bob and then I had
a Labrador dad got me a Labrador What was the
Labrador's name? Butch. Butch and Bob. I used
to take him with me. It was funny. One day a
year, Dad would take us up to Burrier with the
shotguns, shooting parrots that were cleaning
up the corn paddocks. And I used to take Butch
with me, and he'd go and bring the birds back
once we'd shot them. Didn't have to teach him,
he just did it. And by the end of the day, he'd
be lying there with all the feathers. Even out
of his nose. So what guns were you using? Shotguns.
Double barrel shotgun. How old were you shooting?
Probably about 12. They'd give you a sore shoulder.
I was going to ask about that. Yeah. They never
put me on my back, but then I started work at
the sports store and they had rubber pads that
you could screw onto the butt of it. Oh, I had
one of those. That was better. Didn't hurt so
much. We had to hand the guns in, didn't we?
And the one I had was all hand -engraved, all
the barrel was engraved. I think Dad gave one
to my nephew and he handed it in. But it had
an emblem on it, a shield on it with his initials
on it. The guns were never put together in the
house. They were always apart. You had to put
them together to go out when you went shooting.
And the only thing they were used for was if...
He saw a snake or something had to be put down,
which nearly killed Dad. He hated that. Did you
have horses on the property? We had three draft
horses, Nellie, Snips and Baldy. Using them for
ploughing? Yep, Dad did. We didn't. Cutting hay,
cutting lucerne, ready to feed the cows. How
old were you when he was doing that? Eight, nine,
probably younger. Were you on the slide? Oh,
yes. There's a photo of my sister. Driving the...
The reins? Yeah, on the slide with the milk cans.
And she was only about four. So what were you
growing when you were working the paddock? We
had corn, lucerne, saccharine. I can remember
Dad even planted potatoes. We used to dig potatoes.
Money peas. Oats. Yeah. You had fruit trees growing?
Oh, yes. We had an orchard with plenty of oranges.
mandarins, grapefruit. In our garden around the
house, we had peaches, nectarines, plenty of
fruit. Tell me a bit more about that and your
memories with the fruit in terms of harvesting
or helping yourself. Help yourself. You just
climb up the tree, plant yourself in the fork
of the tree and eat mandarins until you couldn't
eat any more. You're making me jealous. How beautiful.
They were in the horse paddock, so you had to
watch the horse. We had one horse that my uncle
used to ride. Dad wouldn't let us ride it because
he was a big, clumsy horse. So we never learnt
to ride a horse, but we used to go drive the
draft horses. Was there a lot of fruit produced?
Well, there were three families on there, so
we consumed all the fruit ourselves. When you're
saying three families? It was Dad's brother and
his family. Four kids. A fellow that was helping
him up in the other house. He always took some
home. And there was four of us, so there wasn't
much left. What about where Silo's is today?
Who had that land? That was a Wiley. That was
Dad's cousin. Do you know their name? Fred and
Bill. Two brothers? Yeah. Did you visit them?
Not much, not really. We weren't allowed across
the creek. Oh, we'd find a shallow... spot that
we could go across but that's where all our water
come from our water supply for the farm was from
the creek we had a pump down near our house so
we drank was creek water and we had tanks as
well but creek water for washing and for the
dairy and that was all the time that was for
generational yep yep from one generation to the
next yep did the creek change with any sort of
It's changed now because we used to keep it clean.
If there were any bushes or trees or wattle trees
that fall in, we'd get them out. We'd pull them
out and keep the waterway clean. Now you can't
even see the creek. It's just so overgrown and
they wonder why it floods. Well, it used to flood
too. It'd come up, we'd love it when it rained
a lot and the water would come up and we couldn't
get to school. Camberwara Mountain that comes
from right up the top of Camberwara Mountain
and right down past John Martin's right round.
Because he's had like, he reckons a million tonne
of rocks come down recently. Oh, I wouldn't be
surprised. It's unimaginable. So that would change
the course of the creeks, of course. Well, when
they put the new bridge in, which has only been
in a couple of years. drove past there one day
and they'd filled the creek with all these massive
big boulders. Where the heck is the water going
to go? I just can't believe engineers are so
stupid. And then when they did have a lot of
rain, the first lot of rain they had, it went
across the highway. It had never been across
the highway as long as I've known, ever. So tell
me when it did flood, like what are some of your
memories then? It had come across in front of
our house, the one on here. Closest to us? Yeah,
closest to us. Well, those few trees on the photo,
that's the creek. Yes. And that little shed right
in the corner there, that's the pump that pumped
the water up to the dairy. Oh, yeah. But the
water had come right up nearly to the front fence
of that corner house. Couldn't get out. Couldn't
go to school. Could still milk and do all that.
And then Dad would have problems because the
pipe that went into the creek would be washed
away and he'd have to go and replace that before
we could get water again. How did the dairy change?
Did it change in your time, your memory, the
dairy technology? No, not really. We had the
electric automatic machines, but not like they
have today. Do you remember the milk vats they
put in? No, they didn't have the big ones in
when I was on the farm. It was only the Cairns
that was after. After you'd left the farm, your
family? Yes, well, Dad retired in 72, so... Did
you sell the land then? Yes. The fellow that
bought it was married to one of the Wyleys from
the other side of the creek, and he owned a house
in Baroo Road in Bomaduri, and they swapped.
It had 10 acres, so Dad had his... A couple of
cows and his chooks and that's where he retired
until he left there and then they moved into
Osmond Street in town. What else did you love
about working the farm? Just the life, just because
it was busy. It was busy and I had something
to do all the time. You had a purpose. Yes, yeah.
And it was helping Dad and it was healthy. It
was great. And were you working with other people
on the farm? No, only Dad. You two? Yeah. Must
have really bonded you both. And Dad, I heard
Dad telling somebody, no, I was the best worker,
best man he'd ever employed. He'd set me up on
the tractor every morning and I'd plough a paddock
and he'd go off and do something else and then
I'd go off at night and play basketball and come
home. No pressure on you because you were out
working on your own. Dad had trusted me to do
the work on my own and I was helping him. We
worked well together. Where were you educated?
I started school when I was four. I didn't want
to stop home once my sister started because she
was two years out of me. It was 1949. I finished
high school in 59 and I got married in 69. Where
did you go to your first school? Maroo School.
Went on the bus. And then when my sister went
to high school, I used to ride my bike with the
Davis kids. Back brakes? Yep, yep. Yeah, no electric.
You had to pedal like mad because we had a couple
of hills too. Martins Hill, that was a good one,
and then up to our hill. You all considered Maroo
Meadow? Yep. So you went to the school. Who were
some of your friends, the Davis people? The Davis
kids. And where did they live? Across the highway
and across the railway line. So they were Maroo
too, were they? Yes, yes. Gee, there's that fine
line, isn't there, between Jaspers and Maroo?
Out Creek, I think, was it. The Feeneys. Okay,
so tell me the Davises' names. It was Graham,
Laurel, Bob and Evan. Yes. And when I see Evan
today, he comes up and calls me Aunty Marg. I
said, why do you call me Aunty Marg? He said,
because you're older than me. And how's he faring?
He's good, yeah. Where do you see him? I'd just
occasionally see him if we go to some function
or something. I think it was Laurel's 60th wedding
anniversary that I went to because Judith and
I were Laurel's bridesmaids. They were your playmates,
weren't they? Yes, yes. When we were allowed
to go across the highway, we'd follow the creek
down and go and visit the Davos kids, the Davos
as we called them. When there was a flood, the
swamp would be covered in water. The boys made
a... A boat out of a half a 44 -gallon drum and
put outriggers on the side and we used to take
turns in paddling and going over the fences and
none of us could swim. We did all right. Don't
know how we survived. You had a paddle? Yeah,
a paling or a stick or something. How many of
you in the can? Oh, one or two at a time. Didn't
have much room in it. What are you seeing? You're
paddling out there, is there? What's in the water?
Snakes. What sort? Tigers. And what's happening
when you see the tiger snake? You paddle faster.
Most of them would be curled up on a fence, not
so much swimming but resting because it's worn
out from swimming. What else did you do as kids?
Oh, we played tennis. Once we were old enough
to ride our bikes, there just was rush. But there
was no sporting things because we couldn't go
anywhere. Because Mum didn't drive and Dad was
too busy and there was nowhere to go. But when
we got older, we'd all get on our bikes and meet
the Davis kids up at their gate and off we'd
go. Go to Jasper's Brush and play tennis for
a day and one day we had a flat tyre and we had
to take it in turns and pushing the bike to bury
to get the tyre fixed. And then we met up with
the Davis kid's uncle that lived at Foxground
and he threw all our bikes on the back of the
ute and took us to Foxground. Then we had to
ride home. So we were fit as kids were back then,
but they're not anymore because they sit. Did
you go to Muller's for tennis at all? No, no.
I used to go to Muller's for the Sunday school
picnics and have races. Were your family churchgoers?
Not really, but Dad was the treasurer of the
Maroo Church and we used to ride our bikes to
Sunday school. There wasn't many church services
at Maroo. We'd go to Sunday school. Who was your
teacher there, do you recall? Yes, Reg Radford
from up Divot's Lane. And what sort of person
was he? Did you like him? Very quiet, tall man,
very quiet, softly spoken. Yeah, lovely. Who
were your neighbours? Well, the neighbours up
that lane, well, we didn't go up the lane much,
Devitt's Lane, only across it to get the cows
and bring them back. The only place you'd go
would be in town to shop, get your groceries.
But then again, grocery shop in Berry, that he
used to call in, pick up an order, fill the order
and bring it back and deliver it in the afternoon.
On his way, he lived in Nowra, and on his way
back home, he'd deliver the groceries. And who's
that? It was Harold Mannell. Did you ever go
on the milk runs in the truck? No, we used to
torment the milk truck driver. When we went to
the Davises, they had an old ute. It was the
oldest ute I think I've ever seen. And we'd put
the milk cans on the back, and all the kids would
pile on and take... the milk up to the road and
put it on the stand and we'd put one empty can
in amongst the full ones. Of course, the poor
driver would pick it up, hit his head on the,
and then we'd all take off. Things like that.
That was our fun. Didn't hurt anybody. And where
did the milk go? To Bomaduri, to the milk factory.
Did you ever go for a walk down there? No, too
far to walk. You never saw the end product? We
used to drink it straight from the cow. We didn't
have any bottles. Dad would bring down a bucket
of, or a billy as he called it, a small bucket
of milk every morning from the dairy. And we
used to, and I still drink milk today. I buy
four litres a week. Yeah, we'd have a hot breakfast.
You'd have porridge, plenty of, I liked it nice
and thick. And then we'd have bacon and eggs.
On toast that was cooked on the open fire. Nice
thick slice of toast. Marmalade. And that got
you started for the day. And then off you'd go.
Were you helping as a kid before school? No,
no, because Dad had his brother there then. So
you say his brother, you don't say uncle. Uncle
Jack. What was he like? He was quiet. Nothing
like, oh, well, Dad was a quiet man too. Jack
was a big man, but he didn't talk much. We didn't
have a lot to do with him. We'd go up and play
with the kids. I can remember one of them, two
girls and two boys. There was John, Max, Sylvia
and Catherine. Somebody gave Dad a lamb. The
mother wouldn't feed it, so we fed this lamb.
And as it got bigger and bigger, it used to follow
us around. And one of the cousins, I think it
was Catherine, got on its back one day and decided
to ride it down to our house. And we said, come
on, get off. She said, I can't. I've got my toes
stuck in his feathers. Yeah, that's my memory
of sheep. Do you have any other animals that
you've produced? You've got your reeds. Oh, yeah,
we had chooks and ducks. What sort of ducks?
Muscovy ducks. At one stage, Dad had Indian runner
ducks, but he didn't like them because they didn't
have enough meat on them. We used to kill our
own chooks and clean them and eat them. What
about the ducks? What were they good for? Oh,
you eat them too, they're nice. I like duck.
Stronger flavour, but it's nice. There was always
a few wild ducks around the creek. Across the
creek, the other wildies, they had turkeys. And
you'd hear occasionally, you'd hear the train
going by, blowing its whistle, because the turkeys
would be on the railway line. And then you'd
hear, come on, come on, come on, come on. Feathers
going everywhere. So the railway line was what
station? Between Bomaderry and Bury. So there
was a railway at Jasper's Brush? Yeah. Is that
the only railway between those two? Yep. And
you'd hear the steam train? Yeah, yep, by the
whistle. Unbeknownst to Mum and Dad, we used
to, with the Davis kids, we'd go for a walk along
the railway line towards Bombardier and then
somebody would say, there's a train coming and
the kids going everywhere. Mum would have a willy
if she knew half of what we've done. What else
did you do for entertainment as your little group?
Not a lot. We didn't see them much because you
spent most of your time at school. And because
the Davis kids had to work too, they had to help
their father. He didn't have any help on the
farm. And they were dairy farming. Everyone was
dairy farming. Yeah, it was all dairy. And you
had a silo, one? Yep, yeah, one silo. How far
off the main highway were you? How far up? You
can see it from the road, see the houses from
the road. The silo's still there, actually. What
do you think of the silo when you've not a lot
of room in them? Oh, we had a lot of... I spent
a lot of hours filling that silo. We'd have the
harvester come. Feeney's did some of it. I don't
know who else did the other one. And they'd bring
the big trolleys in and you'd have to shovel
it or pitchfork it with a big fork onto the conveyor
to fill the silo. I had muscles on my muscles.
We worked hard. Dad would get us in the silo
to spread it, or then we'd have to get in it
to empty it, shovel it out the other window down
into the trolley to feed the cows. Did you have
feed stalls? Yes. Yeah? Yeah. We had about, let's
see, about 10 or 15 on either side, so that was
about 30. How would that work every day? The
trolley had come on the track, would it? Yeah,
yeah. We had a railway line up the middle between
the two stalls, and you'd shovel the... Insulate
you out of the silo into that trolley. Then you
push the trolley along and shovel it into the
feed bins and then let the cows in and then you
do it all over again. Ever have any drought?
We did have a hailstorm out there too one night.
The next morning the whole paddock, the whole
house, everything was white. And the newspaper
came out and took a photo of it and put it in
the newspaper. It just looked like snow. Yeah,
it was a massive hailstorm. How long ago was
that? 50 years ago. Did you bury corn? No, all
went into the silo. It was good to get in there
with bare feet because it was hot, it was warm.
You'd bury your feet in the insulation, it was
nice and warm. Smelly, but it was warm. We had
to spread it and we'd chase each other round
and round and round and round, tramp it down
and it'd be coming in through the chute, through
the top and you'd be trying to get out of it.
Yeah, it was all good fun. Did you think you
were poor? Were you poor? We didn't have much.
Mum made our clothes until I started sewing and
then I used to make my clothes and I used to
make my own kids' clothes. We never went anywhere.
Only later years, when I was a teenager at high
school, we had dancers at Maroo. Mum and Dad
used to run dances and raise money for the ambulance
and the hospital. And then they used to run dances
in town, raise money for the Olympic pool. Mum
used to train debutantes and teach dancing. Mum
did ballroom dancing. We learnt to ballroom dance
and we used to help teach the boys. It was a
shame when they knocked that Maroo Hall down.
It was a lovely little hall. We used to have
dancers there all the time. We had our concerts
there from school. They'd put on a play. Did
you feel like you were living in a little village?
It wasn't like you... You didn't see many people
because we didn't go out much. Always working
on the land. Always working, yeah. Dad would
get a Sunday afternoon off and his brother would
do the milking and then the next week Dad would
be milking and his brother would have the weekend
off, you know. It just worked. That's all you
did. That's all you knew was to work. Eat, sleep
and work. Did you see a lot of tourists come
down? Did you know when there were people coming
down for holidays? Yes. There was a lot of traffic,
which we normally didn't see much traffic. Sometimes
in the summertime we'd sit on the veranda and
count the cars, as the kids do. I suppose it
was like a little community village because we
knew all the families from school and when they'd
get together and have a dance, The wives would
be in the kitchen boiling up the copper to make
pot of tea, all the tea, and they'd all bring
a plate. And at suppertime, they'd stop dancing,
the music would stop, and they'd take round cups
of tea and coffee, well, not coffee so much,
but tea and cakes and things to eat. And it was,
that's when they all met. Innocent, really. Yeah.
Simple. Simple. No dramas, no... No murder. No,
no... No competition, no... Everybody was equal.
There was no trauma of any... Only when I walked
in after I put the stuff on the floor to make
the floor slippery and I fell over and broke
my wrist. That was one night. And Dad said, well,
you're going to have to wait till morning before
you get it fixed. Everybody knew everybody. It
wasn't like it is today where you've got to know
everybody's business. It was just nice. Did your
mum have friends? Like, was the phone, was she
on the phone? No, no, no. No, very seldom used
the phone. And the phone was a party line to
my uncle's place, Uncle Jack's, Aunty Sylvia's.
The phone would ring. One ring would be for us.
If it was two rings, it would be for them. And
sure as eggs, you'd pick it up and it would be
the wrong one or something. No, mum didn't have
a lot of friends. And what about the radio? Did
you have a radio? Yeah, that's all we had. Sit
around the radio, tea time, listen to the news.
Winter time, you'd light the fire and sit around
and knit. I was still knitting and crocheting
and Mum taught us to sew. You wouldn't be up
very late at night because you were tired because
you'd get up at 5 o 'clock in the morning and
you'd just have your tea, have your shower or
one bath a week if you were lucky because you
were... No hot water. It was washing day. You'd
get hot water for the bath. We'd all take our
turn in the bath. Did you have a big washing
line somewhere? Yes, it was outside in the paddock
with the props under it. Mum would go crook because
the cows would come out and rub themselves on
the prop and the sheets would be on the ground.
Did you have candles? No, we had electricity.
We had candles when there was blackouts. We've
still got a lamp up there. We used to have candles
if there was... So that's a kerosene lamp, is
it? Blackouts would have been common? Not really.
No, not very often. Bit of a nuisance. Well,
we didn't have electric stoves or anything. So
you'd still cook. Everything was fuel stove and
our hot water was from the combustion stove.
What about your fridge? Was it ice? Oh, well,
we didn't have a fridge to start with. We used
to come into town and buy a big block of ice,
have the ice chest. I don't know how we kept
milk or kept anything, but we did. And you wouldn't
shop every day because there was no shops. Did
you kill beasts or was it delivered? Yeah, yeah,
we used to... And how would you keep the meat?
We didn't always kill. Dad had pigs at one stage
and somebody up the lane, I don't know who it
was, come and killed a pig and we cut that up.
It was mainly chooks, chooks and ducks. No slaughterhouse?
No, no, no. Do you think there would have been,
though, on the property at some point? No, no,
no. And if Dad cooked... Killed a chook. He couldn't
look at it for two days. Mum had to keep it in
the fridge for two days because he couldn't eat
it because he'd killed it. He was a bit of a
softy. What about soap and stuff? Do you make
your own? No, no. Or you buy it? I probably use
sunlight soap mostly. Well, that was used for
everything, wasn't it? Yeah, I've still got it.
What about your haircuts? Or your hair? Do it
yourself. Mum used to do it. Mum used to cut
our hair, perm it. I don't know who did Mum's,
but then I started doing hers. And then when
I worked in the sports store, there was five
barbers in there. And I used to watch them and
I learned how to cut hair. So I cut my own hair.
And then I did Dad's and Mum's and my kids' and
my husband's. What high school did you go to?
Nowra, Nowra High. Three years there. Yeah? From
high school I went... and worked in the sports
store for six years. So tell me where that was
and if you've got barbers in there, it's a bigger
thing, isn't it? It was a big shop, big sports
store with the barbers right along one side.
It had a ladies barber and four men. What was
the address? Junction Street, 123, I think, Junction
Street. Did it have a name? Yeah, Perring Sports
Store. He sold it. He was an ex -policeman. He
was a good boss. Hewlett's bought it, and Hewlett's
owned Hewlett's Milk Bar. And they had two sons
and a daughter, but the sons used to take it
in turns of a month about, I think it was, in
the sports store and in the milk bar, and they
used to swap around. After a while, I left there
and went and worked. Dad just asked me, I turned
21 the day I left work in town, and he asked
me if I wanted to go and work on the farm. I
said, yeah. The main employment was the paper
mill, but I was lucky I walked out of school
one day and into the sports store the next. So
was that early sort of 60s? 59. What are you
selling in the sports store? Everything from
tobacco to greenweed for bait and prawns and
guns and tennis rackets and fishhooks and trophies
and you name it, we had it. Sports bags, were
they in then? Yeah, we had golf clubs, yeah.
Not much in the flesh golf bags like they are
today. Yeah, because the merchandising is just
mad now. But back then I wonder what sort of
shoes you had. Like thinking of runners, what
brand did you have? Volley. Yeah, exactly. Volley.
Dunlop. Good old Dunlop volleys. Well, we had
a Dunlop shop next door to the library. Shop's
still there, nothing in it. And they sold rubber
and all sorts of things and the volley shoes.
But nothing like spikes for athletes or football
boots? No, no. No, you had to go to the shoe
shop for them. It was only the equipment. I know.
I went to the gym. I've always done something.
I've always been busy. I've always... I played
tennis and squash. So did you sell swimmers and
things like that? No, no, no, no clothing. Tell
me about the romance. I was still working on
the farm. First night I went out, after two years
of not going anywhere, I went to Piree to a dance.
I went outside, this voice said, That was it.
That was him. And what's his name? Peter. Peter
Malcolm. Same as... Same name as the ex -Governor
-General, Peter Malcolm Hollingworth. And I think
they're related, from what I've found out. Was
Peter a farmer? No, he was a scrap metal dealer.
And the land that their business is on, or was
on, was owned by a Wiley, I've since found out,
way back. Where was that? Corner of Jervis and
East Street. We all lived in Jervis Street. The
Hollingworths, I've been here 55 years. His mother
and father lived down there. My daughter's the
other side of the highway on Jervis Street. So
the scrap metal business was actually located
where? Corner of Jervis and East Street. How
big was it? Three blocks. One had a house on
it. What sort of scrap metal? What are we talking
about? All sorts. Scrap metal and glass. Anything
that... It could be recycled. Pete's father started
it during the war. And what was his name? Jack.
John Stirling was his name and they called him
Jack. And who did he marry? Enid Chamberlain.
She had a brother and two sisters. Jack had a
sister and three stepbrothers. They were all
big, tall men, they were. Pete was a big, tall
man too. Are these the Scottish? Yes. So his
father started it during the war. Yeah, because
he used to get all the scrap bombs and all sorts
of things from out at the albatross. What do
you mean? Well, during the war, there was shells
from the guns and everything, the brass and all
that, and he'd go and collect it and sell it.
And it was recycled. That's how it all started.
It was a training centre. Yeah, well... Still
is, isn't it? Yeah. He had the contract probably,
did he? And they made him a life member of the...
Senior sailors' mess out there. He went out there
so much. Elder's daughter had her 21st birthday
out there in the senior sailors' mess. So there
was a connection with the Navy, yeah. That's
a nice connection. Now, was there a sailors'
club? Didn't Pearl meet her husband at the sailors'
club? Yes, yeah, that was the White Ensign Club,
which is about where the entertainment centre
is, down Bridge Road or a bit further along.
And that used to be a hospital to start with,
and then they turned it into the White Ensign
Club. My dad was in there when it was a hospital
with his cousin from across the road and they'd
had their appendix out and they were out on the
veranda in their beds or on chairs or something
on beds, I think, and watching people walk past
and the girl walked past and, of course, one
of them wolf whistled her and she turned around
and slapped Peng into a pile. Of course, that
upset the sore stomach, didn't it? OK, so you've
married a Scot. Was it love at first sight for
you both? It was for me, yeah. Yeah? Yep. Sorted
that out pretty efficiently. Yep. And he loved
water skiing and things like that so I learnt
to water ski and we had a boat and the girls,
we'd get up at 6 o 'clock in the morning, come
on kids, get up, put your cosies on and we'd
be in the boat up the river. Up the Shoalhaven.
Yep. Ski till about 10 o 'clock and then come
home and the kids would help Dad clean up the
boat and I'd cook brekkie and we'd have a big
bang up breakfast then. Yeah. So we've always
been sporty and done things, yeah. So you were
introduced to the water in a different way? Yes,
yes. Yeah, it was good fun skiing. And then we
bought a caravan and we put it on site down at
Lake Conjola. Lovely spot. Yeah, and we were
there for years. We were the first ones, us and
another couple from Nara, we were the first ones
on site in the new caravan park down there. Had
a great time down there. We'd go down every weekend.
Yeah, you wouldn't see the kids from daylight
till dark. Yeah, I'd get up early in the morning
and I'd go fishing because nobody would annoy
me while I was fishing. It was good. I'd go up
the point and pull in a couple of blackfish.
Did you swim yourself? Yeah, yeah, and we had
a surf ski off somebody and I used to get on
that and I'd paddle right up the lake. And it's
funny, my husband, Pete could ski on one ski,
no problem, just jump start and never get wet,
come back in again, but he couldn't sit and paddle
that. Damn surf ski. He couldn't get his balance.
He had to leave his legs hanging on the sole
of it. We couldn't work that one out because
he could ride a bike and he could do ski, but
he couldn't handle a surf ski. He just couldn't
get his balance. If someone was pulling him along,
he was fine. Did you have friends skiing as well?
Yeah, we had Morrie and Sandra Hartnip. That
was another couple. Hartnip, they had two girls.
Where were they from? They originally came from
Barrel, but Morrie's since died. Yeah, there's
not many of us left now. There was a ski club
and they used to have big gala days. You were
part of that? Oh, yeah. And it would have been
big. Yeah. Big club. Yeah, it was great. And
they'd have big days down at Broughton Creek.
They'd have ski days down there with the jumps
and I didn't do that. I'd watch. We'd take the
boat down to Husk. Conjola. Conjola. But we'd...
Go down to Greenwell Point sometimes in the boat
for lunch or something, but most of it was eight
knots, so you couldn't speed, but the kids loved
it. Three. Three girls. And what are their names,
and when were they born? Kim was born in 71.
Kim was born. Tanya was born in 73, and Tony
was born in 76. Tony, girl. They're all girls.
T -O -N -I. Yep. Peter wanted four boys. And
I said, if we had any more, they'd be twin girls,
I bet you. Because both my grandmothers were
twins, and there's been no twins since. So we
stopped at three girls. But Tony's a tomboy.
She's worked with her father. She's worked in
the scrapyard all her life. Sold the business,
so she's moved out to another scrap business.
Where's that at? Out Flinders Estate, now a scrap.
Comes home covered in grease. Stuff. Yeah, stuff's
right. And she lives here, does she? Yes, yep.
It's like the airport. She's touched down refills
and takes off all the time. Brings the washing
home. How old is she now? 49 this year. And where
are your other daughters? The oldest one has
a shop. She lives down the other end of Jervis
Street. She has a shop, patchwork shop, down
near the Quest building in Kinghorn Street. And
Tanya worked at the hospital for 23 years. She
had to give it away because she's losing her
sight. In the kitchen, delivering food. Everybody
loved her. They all knew her. She was loud and,
yeah, she's got the personality for it. She's
great. But she's losing her sight. She's almost
blind. And is that hereditary? Yes. Which side?
My mother's side. My sister's son, Stephen, he's
blind. He's got a guide dog. Last year he won
the... adaptive pro surf competition up at Byron
Bay. He's nearly 60s, 50s, late 50s, and he came
second this year in the same thing, and he's
just come back from Hawaii. He thought he'd go
to Hawaii and give it a go. Come forth. That's
amazing. He was a radio announcer, and he had
to give it away because everything went digital
and he couldn't see to do it. I love the line
dancing. Yeah. It is so good. For mind and body
coordination. Where do you do that at? Shelhamen
Heads on Monday night at the club and tomorrow
morning, Wednesday morning at Bomaduri Community
Hall. I'm just writing it down. Monday night?
Monday night. What time? 6 till 8 .30. God, that's
a while, isn't it? Oh, yeah. Do you have a warm
-up? Yeah, yeah. And Wednesday? Wednesday morning,
Community Hall, Bomaduri. Oh, yeah. From ten
till one. Laurel Slade is our teacher. Yeah.
And she's great. But we have so much fun. I mean,
some dances you just don't get. But you bluff
your way through it and have a laugh. Do you
have to wear boots? No, wear sneakers. People
wear sneakers and boots. I wear riding boots
because I've got a crook foot and it just keeps
my ankle in line. I've always danced. We've done
ballroom and... What was your favourite ballroom
dance? I loved the jazz walls, Foxtrot. I just
liked them all. Mum and Dad used to run the dances
to raise money, but they also gave exhibitions
at balls. And Mum used to train Debs, debutantes.
So when you say exhibitions, oh, yeah, so there
would be a ball and they would... They'd come
out and Mum would have beautiful dresses with
the... And Dad would wear his tails. We used
to dress him, put all his studs in his shirt.
They used to give the exhibition and Mum taught
Dad to dance and we've always danced. And I just
love music. Yeah, that's the thing, the music.
See, it's quiet here now. If I was here on my
own, the music would be going. I'd sit and knit
and crochet or I'd forget about it and I'd go
out. the garden or I used to mow the lawn until
just recently and the girls told me you're not
mowing the lawn anymore granddaughter she's 17
and she's six foot five tell me about your grandchildren
how many do you have and who are they from what
daughter Kim has two girls Kim and David have
two girls Madison and Morgan Maddie's 20 Morgan's
17 Tanya has Tanya's divorced she has two children
a boy and a girl Jack's 20 and he's six foot
six or something and molly she's 17 she's at
home she left school because she was bullied
yeah so she's doing courses on the computer at
home i mean when you think back there were bullies
when we were at school you walked away from it
and they get sick of it after a while and how
long did you date your husband two years two
years and we bought this little house It was
only a two -bedroom weatherboard house. I turned
up here after we'd bought it the first day and
I walked in and I nearly had a fit. He'd knocked
all the walls in because they're all plaster
and all caved in, so that's where we started
from. And it just grew after five years. Now
I'm rattling around here on my own. Where's he?
Passed away four years ago. How old was he? And
what did he pass? 74 he was. He had emphysema.
He was a smoker. Yes, he was a smoker, and he
just didn't stop. How many a day was he smoking?
Not many. Didn't have to smoke many. Once you've
got emphysema, you've got it. It just deteriorates.
He wasn't very active. Well, he was on oxygen
for 24 -7, so he couldn't do anything. How long
was he on oxygen? Oh. Well, he wasn't well for
10 years, so he was on oxygen for about three
or four years. Were you nursing him a bit? Yeah,
yeah, he was here and he'd walk out, you'd see
him walk out the door with his handbag, as we
called it, his portable oxygen, and he'd go down
to the backyard and lean on the bonnet of the
ute and next thing you'd see a puff of smoke
come up and the doctor said, you're not smoking
while you're... On oxygen, he said, I've learnt
how to do it. How he didn't blow himself up,
I don't know. It's a difficult drug to kick.
Hard to watch. Yeah, it must have been. That's
sad. Where's he buried? At Origi. Has he come
and visited you? Well, it was funny because it
was exactly 12 months after he passed away, I've
got an alarm system in the house and there's
a light in my bedroom when it's all secured.
Woke up at 4 o 'clock in the morning and the
light wasn't on. And I thought, there's no kids,
nobody's up. I walked out, the back door was
wide open. Normally I'd be panicking, but I just
said, Dad's just come home. And I'd go out every
Saturday and talk to him. Yeah. Well, they're
there. He's there. Keeping an eye on you. He's
with Mum and Dad. Yes. Mum and Dad are in the
front and he's behind. Yeah. And there's a little
oval photo of him. And occasionally when I go
out, it sounds silly, but it lights up. First
off, I thought it was the sun shining through.
But the last time it was there, there was no
sun. This brings me to the end of my conversation
with Margaret. A little bird told me... that
in the late 50s, Margaret's sister Judith was
accompanied to her debutante ball by none other
than Angus McGangus Ignatius Miller at the Nowra
School of Arts. You all know him as Gus. He turned
100 recently. I'll bring you the final episode
of Season 1 in coming weeks. This project that
I have initiated receives no government funding.
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Lane Project should you want to listen. All my
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for future generations. At its completion, It
will be archived at Nowra Library through their
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at my website, theresesweeney .com .au. Feel
free to get in touch with me. Until next time,
take care and thanks for listening.