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REMINISCENCES

by

Dorothy Talbot Steward

I was born in Launceston on 1st March, 1902 and was helped into the world by a Nurse Newson – a midwife of great competence at that time. Mothers, generally, in the very early twentieth century, had their babies in their own homes. My mother and father had been living in Adelaide, where my father, who was a watchmaker by trade, was also solo cornetist at Rickard’s Theatre there. However, there was an earthquake, or bad earth tremor in Adelaide, and my mother was so frightened she couldn't get back to Launceston fast enough, and my father followed shortly after. I remember saying in class one day that "I was nearly born in Adelaide." The whole class roared laughing, as did my teacher, but I'm afraid I couldn't see anything very humorous in my statement at that time.

Some of the happiest memories of my early years were the times I spent staying at "Britannia House" – the home of my paternal grandmother, my Aunt Gertrude and two bachelor uncles, Gervase and Cyrus. My grandfather, Thomas Joseph Doolan, was the first Catholic Funeral Director in Launceston, but he died as a comparatively young man and my father’s elder brother, my Uncle Arthur, carried on the business. Although my grandparents had eight children (two having died in infancy), they only had three grandchildren. Myself and my brother and my cousin Hilary (Uncle Arthur's daughter.) When my brother was born my father was away on the mainland at a band contest and the piece of music they had to play was "The Overture to William Tell", so my Uncle Arthur immediately dubbed the new baby Bill and Bill he remained even though he was baptised Harold Gervase – named after his father and his uncle.

I always slept with my grandmother in a beautiful double bed with its highly polished cedar bed head and footing. Next door to my grandmother's bedroom was her "dressing room" and every morning a can of hot water was carried up by my aunt and put in the dressing room ready for my grandmother's use. In those days there were not electric hot water services to be just turned on, but my grandmother had a lovely jug and basin set with soap and toothbrush holders to match. She was a "change daily" girl and one must remember that in those days underwear was made of fine cambric with chemise trimmed with embroidery, long pants, or drawers as they were called, plus long petticoats. These would be spotless but they were changed nevertheless and my aunt very often ironed them and put them back again into my grandmother's underwear compartments!

Sunday evenings were always most enjoyable as there always seemed to be visitors for tea - mostly dear friends or relations – and after tea we adjourned to the "back parlour" where the piano was and from then on we had music. From a very early age I knew dozens of songs and of course, had to go through my repertoire.

Probably the visitors were bored to sobs. I forgot to mention, when speaking of my grandmother's lovely cedar bed, that the bed had originally belonged to a Catholic priest, Father Cotham, who was one of the first Catholic priests to be in Tasmania; many years later when "Britannia House" was sold, the bed was bought by Sir Gordon Rolph.

My cousin Hilary and I were inseparable and we loved each other dearly but I always envied her naturally curly hair, whilst every night I had to endure having my hair put into curl rags, which were kept, with my brush and comb, in a special bag and Grandma would say to me "Dorothy, go and get your curl rags." She then proceeded to wind my hair around the rags. As I grew older my hair grew and I had two long plaits, which did away with my pseudo-curls, to my relief!

I went to 11 o'clock Mass with my Grandmother every Sunday but I must confess I spent more time looking at and listening to the choir than attending to what was going on at the altar. A Mr. Castley was the choir-master. He was a non-Catholic and I remember he had a hardware store in Elizabeth Street.

My mother was a very fine pianist, who received her tuition from a Miss Wigmore, but she didn't pass any of her knowledge on to me. My father, however, showed me a couple of chords and I was able, in my own fashion, to strum out Rubenstien's "Melody in F", one of my favourite pieces.

Right opposite "Britannia House" was a house called "Clonmel" owned and occupied by the Walsh family, who previously owned the "Centennial Hotel". The family were Nell, May and three sons, Mick, Dick and Jack. Two cousins, Peg and Mary Murphy, also lived with them. It is with this family that there has been a four generation friendship. Nell married a Walter Lansdell and came to live in Hobart. They had only one child – Kathleen. My mother and Nell were great friends – always went to the pictures together on a Monday afternoon, adored reading Elinor Glynn's books and at one time they coached the St. Mary's College students in the lancers ready for some social "do" at the college. Kathleen married Barney Lynch and her second son, Bernard, became my godson and Kath was godmother to my son Gregory.

Next to the Walsh home lived Rosie and Herbie Sherlock. They were a childless couple and they really loved me and had me at their house as often as they could. I used to have Sunday dinner with them often and they always served me a wine glass of stout with my dinner. Further up Wellington Street and quite close to "Britannia House" garden, stood a very impressive looking Fire Bell Tower, containing a huge bell and this was rung every time there was a fire. I remember the noise always frightened me.

My grandmother taught me to read and write. She was a great correspondent and spent most of her afternoons writing to friends and relations on the mainland. She loved Heathen Mythology. She also taught me to darn and I had an old grey woollen sock belonging to my Uncle Gervase, on which to practice, using various coloured wools.

One day Hilary and I were allowed to watch timber from Melbourne being unloaded at “Britannia House”. We watched from the window of the Half-a-crown room. However, we discovered a tin of stuff called Brunswick Black with which we promptly got to work and played. Can you imagine the state of our lovely white dresses and us and the shock of those relatives there at the time, as Hilary and I had never really got into any serious mischief before? Poor little Hilary was severely smacked, but I wasn’t, and this didn’t seem fair to me.

You may wonder at the name Half-a-crown room. Originally Britannia House was called Britannia Wine Vaults, a name that, in those days, I think, was given to hotels. The large room on the ground floor was always referred to as the waiting room and there was also the front parlour, the back parlour and the dining room. My parents moved to Hobart about 1908, my father to work for a

Mr. Arthur Butterfield, a jeweller who owned a shop in Elizabeth Street. When we first came here we stayed at Mr. Butterfield’s house in Mortimer Avenue. Then we stayed with the Murphy family, whose saddlery business was also in Elizabeth Street, until we were able to rent a house of our own.

Elizabeth Street has certainly changed since those early days. Ingles Grocery Store occupied the corner of Elizabeth and Bathurst Streets – now Garnham’s “At Home” shop. Next came Wherrett’s Photographic Studio, then Butterfield’s jewellery shop, Robert’s sweet shop called The Silver Pan, further down Murphy’s saddlery business, Warner’s sweet shop and very much later, where the Commonwealth Bank now stands, was a large butchery business owned by Clark and Tudor.

In 1910 I started school at St. Mary’s College. Mother Joseph (Power) was the principal at the time and, as she had taught my mother at Sacred Heart College in Launceston, she took a particular interest in me. She was followed by Mother Anthony, whom we called (behind her back, of course), Fairy Foot. This was because, as she must have had rubber soles on her shoes, we could not hear her approaching and only the clink of her large rosary beads gave us any warning. I can’t say this period of my schooling was the happiest time of my life and I think too much was expected of me. I was always the youngest in the class and at an age of 11-12 years I was competing with some girls of 15-16 years of age. At this time our class teacher was Sister Evangelist and one day she gave me eight cuts with a bamboo cane because I had not done a very good examination in Latin (above all subjects!). Even after all this time I still feel resentful and hate the sound of “Caesar’s Gallic Wars”.

However, I suppose life is full of compensations and, at this time I had in our class a girl named Sue Dwyer. Sue was a few years older than I but we never lost touch with each other and our friendship extended over a period of more than seventy years.

Now Sister Evangelist was a good teacher of languages but she could not get through to me in Maths. About this time my mother became friends with a Mrs. Mitchell whose husband, Mr. Thomas Mitchell, started St. Peter’s School for boys. Mrs. Mitchell told my mother about a Sister Gabriel, who was supposed to be a marvellous teacher of Maths. I was then taken away from St. Mary’s and sent out to Sacred Heart at New Town. Sister Gabriel was certainly as Mrs. Mitchell had described her and in twelve months I got credits in Arithmetic and Algebra, as well as in French and Physiography.

In my day Arithmetic, Algebra and Geometry were all taught as separate subjects, as were History and Geography, so I had to do nine subjects. I was even working out Algebra problems from pure enjoyment!

At this time we were living at a house called “Catherston” at 71 Patrick Street, so I had to travel to school at New Town by tram. I well remember that there was a tram conductor called Bennie Shaw – a handsome fellow – and we, as adolescents, always tried to get on Bennie’s tram. Where we lived in Patrick Street had to be passed by boarders from Friend’s School on their way to their meeting house around the corner in Murray Street, and that was how I became acquainted with Syd Jones, a nephew of Sir Henry Jones of IXL fame. Then I got into the habit of getting off the tram at Augusta Road, where I was met by Syd and he would carry my case and walk with me down Clare Street to the Convent. Either someone told tales to the nuns or I was sighted from one of the Convent upper floor windows (I never did find out) and that put a stop to that. Now opposite the Quaker (Friend’s) meeting house was Queen’s College, which was later taken over and integrated with the Hutchin’s School. Next door to Queen’s College there was a small shop run by a Mrs. Elliott who had two daughters, one of whom was Freda Elliott.

Whilst I was at Sacred Heart, Archbishop Patrick Delaney came out a couple of times and helped me with my French and on another occasion Monsignor Cullen gave me a few pointers on my Latin. I think they both held Sister Gabriel in high esteem as a teacher.

About 1919 I went to the Remington Business College to do a secretarial course. The College, in Macquarie Street, was run by Mr. John Cameron McPhee, who also had a copying office in Collins Street, where he held the agency for Remington typewriters, Gestetner duplicators and sold all sorts of stationery and office equipment. I was fortunate enough to be dux of the college and received a gold medal for my pains. As soon as our course was completed we would be sent to the various offices or firms requiring clerical assistance and would stay in a temporary capacity, thereby adding to our own office experience.

One of my first assignments was a call to the University of Tasmania, which then was situated on the Domain. The registrar was Montague Moses Ansell, who had a reputation for being very difficult as an employer, so I was terribly scared. To cut a long story short, we got on famously and, as it was nearing Christmas he gave me a copy of C.J. Dennis’ book “The Sentimental Bloke”.

Clare Reynolds was in charge of the office in Collins Street, but she was offered another position with Clerk, Walker & Stops and decided to take it, so Mr. McPhee offered me her job. This I took and there I stayed. So many things happened whilst I was there and I met lots of interesting people. Later Mr. McPhee went into politics, became State Premier and was knighted. I did some work for Errol Flynn, whose father was a professor at the University here.

Speaking of Professor Flynn reminds me that we used to have at the City Hall what was known as the “Palais de Danse”. We used to get dressed up for the occasion when we went and I often used to dance with the professor. We must have looked a funny pair as he was about 6’2” to my 5’2”. One rude person told me once they thought the prof was doing a solo, as they couldn’t see me!

Another interesting person for whom I worked was the authoress Marie Bjelke-Petersen. Apart from doing various pieces of typing for her, I also typed out a novel she wrote called “Jewelled Nights”, the story of which was located on the west coast of Tasmania. I am not sure, but I think it was later filmed. Marie gave me a lovely photo of herself, which I later gave to the archives in Canberra. Her Secretary-Companion was Sylvia Mills. I can remember being invited to have tea with them whilst they were living over the river and in those days one had to do the crossing by ferry boat. I think they were rather fanatical about food but I don’t recollect what we had that evening. I do remember that Colonel Bjelke-Petersen, Marie’s brother, accompanied me to the ferry when I left for home, and told me, on the way, that I should never marry a man with a big head as, if I did, I would have trouble in child-birth!!!

Our jobs in our copying office were many and varied and I did about three court cases, taking evidence in the Lower Court straight onto the typewriter – quite exhausting really. One case was a murder trial where Tingman, Wrathall and Price were charged with a double murder – an old man in Harrington Street and a Mr. McKinley who owned a petrol bowser at Kempton. They were found guilty and given life sentences. A sergeant of police sat next to me and handed me my paper and carbon as I rolled each sheet out. I typed for two Mercury reporters – Athol Bradley and Jack Judd when they were on various commissions and quite often I was typing until 1 or 2 a.m. Don’t remember that I was ever paid overtime either! I am not sure that my family know this, but I received a ten-year service badge from the Remington Typewriter Company and must show it to them sometime.

Andrew Mathers were the local carriers and used to collect and deliver typewriters that we had repaired. One of their drivers was named Dobson and he was later up on a murder charge for killing his wife. I can’t remember the sentence he got. I must mention here that Mathers used big drays and horses to drag them, as horses were more in vogue than motor cars, as they are today. Now we had, as a manager/salesman, a man called Paddy Pledger. Actually his proper Christian names were Henry Irvine. He was quite a comedian, knew all the songs I knew, and had done some amateur theatrical work on the mainland. He was a New Zealander by birth. One had to actually see the following happening to appreciate the humour of it. Every morning Paddy Pledger would go over to Tattersalls, which was directly opposite our office, to collect any orders for stationery, etc. On this very cold and frosty morning one of Mather’s drays had gone up Collins Street and right in the middle of the road the horse had deposited a great lump of manure. Due to the heat of the manure and the frosty air, a large amount of steam was rising and as Pledger was crossing the road he stopped, looked back at me through our big plate-glass window, and pretended to warm his hands over the steam.

Much later Arthur Hay, a son of Bishop Hay, the Anglican bishop of the time, took over from Mathers and started Auto Carriers, which is still going well today. Through knowing Arthur I was once invited to “Bishopscourt” to tea.

At the age of about 22 I became engaged to Joe Torley, an ex- Virgilian who used to be a boarder at St. Virgil’s. His family lived at Derby on the east coast. Joe went to the E.Z. Company to work and became a metallurgist. He bought a Rugby car so he taught me to drive and I got my licence in 1924! Unfortunately, Joe took to drinking and so ended our romance. I didn’t know about his bad habit, as he would drink on the evenings he didn’t see me or after he left me on other occasions. His family, however, blamed me for his misdemeanours, but I was entirely innocent and was really shocked when I found out what was going on.

One interesting but exhausting job we had to do whilst I was with Mr. McPhee was the Electoral Roll for the City of Hobart. We had, I think, ten days to complete the work – 50 copies and the cutting of over 400 stencils. We had to put up a cheque for 50 pounds, which would be forfeit if the work wasn’t completed on time. You can imagine the strain involved in the cutting, checking and running off of so many stencils and then having to collate same. Now, of course, it is all printed.

The above was hand-written by Dorothy in her nineties, and stops at this point. We hope to add a synopsis by her daughter Margaret Steward/Brown soon.