by Susan Toscan
Agnes was excited when a letter arrived in the mail the week after Michael had left. She tore open the envelope and read:
Dear Agnes,
I hope that you do not mind me writing to you so soon, but the nights are long out here and I am a bit sick of playing cards. I have been thinking about you and the time that we have spent together. I wanted to tell you that I think you are beaut. I will be back in town in three weeks’ time, and I would like to call at your house and visit you if that is all right with your parents.
I haven’t asked you if you like swimming. I have a favourite place out at the river that I would like to take you. It is a bit of a drive in the buggy, but it is a really nice place.
Not sure if you are interested, but I thought that I could tell you a bit about the shearing sheds.
The shed that I am working in at the moment is one of the larger sheds in the area. I get on pretty well with all the blokes, and the bosses seem okay as well. It gets pretty rowdy at times, and some of the blokes are a bit aggressive. They really like boxing and fighting, but I don’t like it much. I join in just so as they don’t call me a sheila, but I don’t like the fighting.
I have a good mate who looks out for me. His name is Tom Dawson. He is a bit older, and he teaches me how to stay out of trouble. He tells me that if I work hard, I can be a real good shearer one day. He wants me to compete for the title of ‘gun shearer’ in a few months’ time. I am not sure about that. Tom is also teaching me how to fight. He knows that I don’t like it, but he said that it is a matter of survival in the sheds and I need to know how to protect myself. He seems to know what he is talking about, so I listen to him. He is a good guy. He sometimes tells me I am too soft, that seems a bit rough to me.
I have gone on a bit, sorry. I hope this does not bore you too much.
One more thing, I met a new guy when I got back to the shed. Just come from Sydney. A bit of a city slicker; a real pain. Some of the other blokes called him out the other night, and he showed that he could handle himself in a fight. I don’t think they will pick on him again in a hurry. His name is Brad something. He said that he had been in Griffith on his way out to the shed. Odd sort of fellow to be out here.
Anyway, I hope to see you soon. Michael
A shearer’s life
Shearing was a popular career choice for a lot of young Australian men in the 1930s as a result of the Great Depression, which began in the United States with the Wall Street stock market crash of 1929 and affected the Australian economy severely for a number of years. It meant that unemployment was extremely high and that jobs in cities and large towns were virtually non-existent.
Rural areas offered better opportunities—especially after 1932 as the increase in wool prices meant that many more sheep stations were established. The Australian wool industry had been growing steadily since the time of the first European settlers. Merino wool was regarded as the best in the world, and Australian merino wool was in high demand, being exported to Britain, Spain and America. It was, in fact, the most successful and profitable export product in the country. This situation helped Australia recover from the devastating effects of the Depression; the wool industry created employment, and as a result, the economy slowly began to show signs of improvement.
People involved in the production of wool could make good money if they were prepared to work hard.
Shearing was seasonal, but shearers generally moved between sheep stations and often found extra work on large properties to see them through until the next shearing season. Of course, this created a lot of competition among young shearers, who all vied for the title of “gun shearer”. Shearing competitions were often staged at local agricultural shows, and people from nearby towns enjoyed the displays.
It was a rough lifestyle as the men usually lived away from their families, often in shearers’ quarters. These were mostly dormitory-style galvanised iron sheds, which were generally very basic—extremely hot in the summer and cold in the winter. The shearing sheds fostered an odd sort of mateship among the shearers. These men were very competitive and fond of a drink. More often than not, this was the cause of disagreements and aggressive behaviour among the workmates.
Union activity in the sheds became highly visible in the 1930s. The Australian Workers’ Union was reputed to have Communist connections and influence, which in the early years of the 20th century was a new and strange situation in the Australian workforce. As a result, the shearers’ employers often treated the Trade Union with suspicion and distrust as strike action could cripple a whole shearing season.
As the demand for better wages and conditions increased, disputes between shearers and their employers (the graziers) became more common. This provided the perfect environment in which the union could influence the shearers, and as a result, union membership increased. The shearers felt that they had a voice for the first time. The unions did manage to make many necessary changes in the industry, especially in regards to safety, but confrontations between union members and non-members continued.
Around this time, teams of shearers began to form contractor groups, which meant that exceptionally skilled shearers banded together to demand the highest prices for their teams. This resulted in a very high level of competition and, therefore, drove up the cost of employing good shearers. The industry was doing so well that the graziers could, and would, pay for the best.
Michael’s friend Tom Dawson had made sure that Michael was indentured into one of the best gangs. Tom was confident that Michael had not only the right skills as a shearer but also a good head for business—as well as ambition.
Tom was an interesting character. He was rugged and scruffy, but he was a gentle giant of a man and everyone liked him. He had never married. When Michael had asked him why not, Tom had said that he had never found anyone he couldn’t live without.
Michael had been intrigued by his answer. “What do you mean, Tom?”
“Well, my boy, my old dad told me that when I looked for a wife, I should make sure I chose one I couldn’t live without, not just one that I could live with. Pretty good advice, I thought,” Tom had replied to a rather sceptical Michael.
“Don’t you get lonely sometimes?”
“Sure, but that’s why this kind of life suits an old guy like me. There’s always company around, but I’m not bound to spend time with them if I don’t want to. I’m a loner, mate—always have been. Anyway, I have you to look out for, and that keeps me busy.”
The angry man
Since meeting Agnes and realising that he really liked her, Michael had much to reflect on. He knew that he would soon have to tell Agnes about his parents and more about his life. The shy young man did not have a lot of experience with girls, but he knew that if he was going to establish a serious relationship, he should not hide things about his family.
Michael reached up to retrieve the shoebox that he kept on top of his cupboard in the shearer’s quarters. It had become very battered over the years. It held his treasured memories—good and bad—and connected him to his parents and his past. Inside was a little book that, like the shoebox, had become worn with age and handling. He opened his childhood diary and smiled as he saw his mother’s writing on the first page. He remembered asking her to write down the date when his father would be coming home from the war so that he could count the days. Michael was only five years old at the time, and he could not read without his mother’s help—but he could count very well. He read his mother’s words from his diary from so long ago:
Not long now, and your daddy will be home with us. He is not well as he breathed some bad gas when he was in France. He has been in a field hospital for the last weeks of the war. Next week, we are going to Melbourne to meet Daddy, who will be coming home on a big ship.
Arthur Michael Houston arrived in Melbourne 18 February, 1919.
Michael could still picture that huge ship; to his five-year-old self, it had seemed bigger than anything he had ever seen. He remembered th
e dock being packed with people. There had been a band playing, and Michael had asked his mother if it was a party. She had smiled down at her son and explained, “Well, it is a type of party to welcome home all the men from the war.” Her voice had been, as always, soft and gentle. He remembered her hugging him and treasured the memory of how safe and loved his mother’s hugs always made him feel.
On the docks, Michael could not see much aside from the legs of the adults standing in front of him. He had looked up every so often to make sure that the ship was still there and found that the grey mass of the vessel seemed to block out the sky. Men in uniforms and slouch hats were making their way down the gangplank to be greeted by their families.
He could still picture his mother, Faye, on that day. She had worn a very nice dress with a smart hat, and Michael had thought that she looked very pretty. She was taller than most women, with long dark hair. Her face was lovely, but she had sad eyes.
Michael had felt safe with her as she held tightly onto his hand. She would bend down when she spoke to him to make sure that he understood what she was saying. “Are you all right, little man? Shouldn’t be too long now. I think that they will bring your Daddy out on a stretcher after these men.”
When Arthur Houston was finally carried to the dock, he hardly recognised his family. He was a stranger to Michael, too, as Michael had only been a baby when his father had left for the war.
Arthur remained a stranger to Michael. It was confusing for the little boy; his mother was always so loving and affectionate, but his father could not connect with him. The occasional pat on the head was the only touch his father ever gave him.
At about the age of eight, Michael had written:
I wish that he had died in the war, he made Mummy cry again and he has a very loud voice. I know that he hates me and I want to run away, but I do not want to leave Mummy.
As the grown-up Michael read his innocent words as a confused child, he regretted that he was never able to establish a relationship with his father. His mother had been his world. He could not understand at first why she never seemed to be happy. It was in his early teenage years that Michael had been able to work out that his father’s drinking had been the destructive force in their lives.
His Uncle Colin, his father’s brother, had filled the void to some extent. He had looked out for Michael. He had taught him to ride a horse and often played football with him. He had also taught Michael how to do some practical jobs around the house to help his mother. Michael had learned from his uncle that the roles of teacher and breadwinner were very important when you were a parent. Colin had never criticised his brother Arthur; he had simply explained to Michael that his father could not help the way he was.
Griffith had been a very young town when Michael had lived there as a child. Arthur Houston's family had moved into the town of Griffith from the outlying farming district of Rankin Springs when he was a teenager. Michael’s parents had married very young. His mother was the only child of ageing parents, and she had looked after them until their deaths. During Michael’s father’s absence during the Great War, Michael and his mother had lived in a small house on his Uncle Colin’s property. Michael had had a reasonably happy childhood until his father had returned from the war a broken man.
When Michael was old enough to understand, Colin had told him about his father as a young man. “He was always good at sport, and he was very competitive. He played rugby league when we were at school, and he even made it to a local representative team. He used to get into a lot of fights at school. He was a loner and didn’t make friends easily. I suppose when I think about it, he was a bit of a bully. Arthur was small for his age and what he lacked in height, he made up for with strength. He was on the boxing team for a while, but he was just too rough and he wouldn’t stick to the rules. He was a bit of a recluse even after we left school. Our mum used to say he was a moody bugger, and I think that he really was an angry young man.”
Michael had always been grateful that Colin had been so honest with him. At least he felt that he had some understanding of the person his father had been. He would never understand how two brothers could be so different. He had always wished that his uncle had been his father.
Michael went back to the diary, but now he had tears in his eyes as he continued to read.
I can’t do anything right. I hate him and I hate his drinking. I will never drink when I grow up. Mum says that Dad loves me, he just doesn’t know how to show it. That’s bullshit! How can you love someone and treat them like they don’t exist? Everyone says that Dad is a good bloke! How come Mum and I never see him like that? He spends all our money on grog and Mum has to clean houses so that she can buy food. She looks so tired. We both copped it again last night, he abused me and then he was yelling at Mum. I ran outside, I couldn’t stand it anymore. This morning he told us again that he was sorry, but I don’t believe him. He says that every time, but then he just goes and drinks again. He doesn’t change anything. I want to shout at Mum, why does she put up with this? She looks so crook that I do not have the heart to make her feel worse. I try to help her, but I hate her making excuses for him.
Michael wiped his eyes. Even now, almost five years after his father’s death, he still felt anger towards the man. His mother had died two years after his father, worn out by her life. Michael had sent her money after he had left home, but he found that on her death, she had left him a bank account with the money safely kept there for him. It broke his heart. He had accepted in his adult years that she had loved his father in spite of his faults. Michael always knew that she had done everything in her power to protect him from his father’s bad moods.
When his mother was dying, she had asked Michael to forgive his father.
“Michael, it is not good to carry the anger you feel towards your father into your adult life. We have to accept that he was an alcoholic and forgive him. For your own sake, love, don’t be the angry man that your father was. Don’t ever make the same mistakes that he did.”
Michael had made this promise to her. He knew that he would never treat the people he loved the way his father had treated him and his mother.
Wineries and weddings
Agnes realised that she had been so successful at keeping herself busy with working at the market and looking after Frances that the time had flown by very quickly. Michael was due home soon. She had prepared a lasagne, and she could not wait for her husband to try the results of this new cooking experience. Her parents and sister had been her guinea pigs, and they had really liked the Italian meals that she prepared. Renata had helped her make the pasta, which was a skill Agnes could not quite master, but she was confident that she had accomplished the sauce-making. Renata was very impressed with her efforts: Agnes had managed to cook a thick, aromatic, tomato-based sauce that would rival anything prepared by a born-and-bred Italian.
Agnes worked two mornings a week at the market stall with Maria and her family. She loved her job, and it was good to feel useful. She had made so many friends that on the mornings she took Frances with her, she always had someone willing to hold and spoil the baby.
The members of the Italian family loved babies and treasured their relationship with Frances. They had watched Frances’s mother grow from the time she was a little girl, and now that Agnes had her own baby, they felt they were part of one big family. Lucia and Renata adored Frances and would call at the house to take her out for walks. They would speak to her in their own language, which seemed to delight the little girl.
Lucia and her boyfriend Flavio were talking about getting married. Lucia could not wait to have a baby of her own. Flavio’s family was Italian and had arrived in the area only the year before. They had initially gone to South Australia’s Barossa Valley as Flavio’s father was a winemaker and had wanted to establish himself in a well-known wine region. When he heard that two big wineries, McWilliam’s and Penfold’s, were operating in the Griffith area and offering incentives to farmers to develop
high-quality grape stock, he decided to move his family there to take advantage of this increasingly successful industry.
McWilliam’s and Penfold’s were established in the Griffith region in the early 1900s. The soil there provided perfect growing conditions for grape stock, and the wineries had encouraged farmers to turn to growing grapes; for a time, they had guaranteed the amount that they would pay per tonne of grapes. This proved successful for the farmers as well as the wineries.
The period leading up to the Great Depression saw many economic setbacks for those involved in wine production, but it was a severe frost in November 1934 that almost devastated the fledgling industry. The determined farmers held on and were rewarded with a bumper crop the following year. As a result, their faith in the wine industry continued to grow stronger. With the Italian migrants’ contribution, Australian knowledge of viticulture became even more sophisticated.
The farmers gradually developed the grape stock best suited to the growing conditions of the region, and the winemakers could not have been happier. Excitingly for the area, the local industry was starting to attract overseas recognition, and export opportunities were being explored. Competition was helping the farmers achieve better prices for their fruit.
Flavio’s family owned a vineyard in Yenda, which was not too far from Maria and Frank’s farm. After their marriage, Lucia and Flavio would make their home on the family vineyard, and Lucia looked forward to starting her married life not too far away from her family and friends. Their wedding was to take place in October of the following year, 1936. The Italian families loved weddings and were especially good at creating an occasion that the whole community would be part of. Lucia found it all a bit daunting, but she went along with the elaborate plans and enjoyed being the centre of attention.
