“Growing Up in Canberra” – Dawn Waterhouse

The following talk was one of five very well received presentations at the MCH seminar “Growing up in Canberra”.

As I am not an historian my tale is simply that of seeing the city grow from paddocks to pavements.

I have friends whose fathers were surveyors and the families lived in tents at Acton. They are adamant in saying, “If you were not here before 1920 you are just a blow-in.” So I am by no means a pioneer but I have seen the city sprout from tawny paddocks.

I first came to Canberra in my mother’s pouch. My parents lived in Queanbeyan and considered themselves as modern as to-morrow. They both had cars Dad’s was an Essex and Mother’s was a Morris Cowley. She was one of the first women drivers in her district after shortening her skirts and shingling her hair. She would tootle over the bare paddocks of the Federal accepting punctures and blow-outs as the norm and would wind down the dusty, bumpy Cotter road with it’s hairpin bends until she passed the pumping station and crossed the wooden one lane bridge before heading for the sight-seeing gem of the district The Cotter Dam. This wonder set among the hills was the harbinger of things to come but who would know when?

How they came to be here at all relates back to Gallipoli. Dad was the 19^th recruit in the first Light Horse. He suffered severe facial wounds from an exploding shell and was on the first hospital ship back to Australia. He was not discharged but appointed a recruiting officer for the circuit of Braidwood, Goulburn, Yass and Queanbeyan. Not an easy job for a man with a disfigured face but he had a particularly winning personality with the knack of shortening long faces along with a patriotic fervour. As he criss-crossed the Limestone Plains he became enchanted with the district and it’s hospitable inhabitants so much so that he resolved to apply for a soldier settlement in the area once victory was proclaimed. In the meantime he married a Sydney girl- a disciple of technology who anticipated an exciting, stream-lined life. She was very proud of being ½ Norwegian, ½ American of Quaker origin. However it was very unlikely she had ever seen a crow fly over a dusty paddock.

After the Armistice Dad was granted the Soldier Settlement block but after one look at it he declared it would not feed a crow let along a family so he turned it in.

Rather than return to the forlorn old gold-rush town of Braidwood they headed for the livelier town of Queanbeyan. While they pondered their future, the Stock and Station business of De.Salis and McDonald came on the market so with a soldier partner Dad bought it. Later he amalgamated with the Woodger Bros. The firm took off with lots of nous and enthusiasm and fore-sight. The first thing they did was to build stock yards down by the river. Sale day attracted the country fold into town and so the economy boomed. Dad was elected to the town council. When the Government decided to raise the tawny paddocks to the dizzy heights of a National Capital Woodgers and Calthorpe were in the right place at the right time. They were in the right place at the right time. They were appointed agents to show the clients the 289 residential blocks and the 104 business sights that had been prepared for the firsts land sale on 12^th December 1924.

Although my father was fired with enthusiasm when conducting clients through the paddocks, he was shocked when mother announced “If the city is really to be there with sewerage and running water, that is where I want to be” I am told. He replied “Holy smoke woman we have just settled here.” That was true. They had just built a most attractive home next door to John Glae the publisher of the Queanbeyan Age whose infectious enthusiasm and influence earned him the name “Father of Canberra” Although their home was the most modern in town it had tank water and the lavender man called. So I don’t have to tell you the outcome of that discussion. The sold their home to the Mayor.

The firm was up there on the podium when the first blocks were auctioned. A block with a sweeping view of Duntroon was purchased for our home. The firm invested in several shops at Eastlake (now Kingston) and installed the first petrol bowsers in front of a motor accessory shop such was their foresight, they became shareholders in the Steam Laundry over at Civic.

Dad maintained the Stock and Station office in Queanbeyan while Mr.Woodger managed the Civic Office. They both became highly regarded in their careers. Dad became a cattle judge at the Royal Easter Show and President of the NSW Stock Station Agents and Mr Woodger was long time President of the Valuers Association. My mother revelled in her new home with all the mod cons. Not once did she ask for an alteration or extension. She employed a maid. Mary, a Scottish lass who became my second mother and I adored her. Mother had been taught Contract Bridge by the exciting new ladies from Melbourne. She was out playing it day and night and became renowned for her skill. She represented Canberra in the first inter-state Congress. She was a methodical housewife so our home was always ship-shape. We had a set of rules and so long as we adhered to them it was a very happy harmonious home. We all loved singing.

Red Hill was an extension to our back garden and it was my chore to collect kinderling for the many fires each day. As I pecked at the ground like an emu I would lift my head and witness the development of the city. Puffs of red dust indicated new foundations, steam rollers chugged over new roads, holes were dug for trees. When they were planted I could see the circles in the suburbs particularly Collins Park. I could and did roam all over Red Hill, in fact anywhere in Canberra in complete safety. The Lyons children caught the same school bus and could play at other times without any concern. We could all walk in the dark and leave the milk money under the billy.

However, the heat in the summer was a concern with unmade gardens and without the shade of trees Canberra scorched. Men had to cut wood in the sizzling heat for their wives to cook the meals over the furnace of fuel stoves. Flies as thick as a swarm of bees would buzz by the kitchen window. “Don’t let the flies in” was a continual cry even at the shops. It was compulsory for every food shop to have a screen door. It could be guaranteed to swallow at least one fly at a picnic. In winter the icy winds blew across the bare plains, the pine tree wind breaks having little or no effect. We tasted our faces by the lovely log fires while nasty draughts whistled around our backs and chilblains drove us demented. No wonder the newly arrived bread winner would stand on his cold grey, concrete porch and looking out say “If this is a National Capital I’ll eat my hat!” To relieve his misery and that of everyone, the heated Capitol Picture Theatre opened but for the first months only silent films were shown. Soon, the talkies followed. It was a boom and became the meeting place for all (perhaps with the exception of the Baptists but they had their new church nearby)

Canberra was a party place with house warmings and welcomings, with card evenings or sing-songs around the pianola. Every one dressed in their best.

The Albert Hall opened with a Bazaar. I recall the lucky dips, barrels of sawdust from which one could draw a toy or an onion. That was luck and there were no tears. Well not until one of the velvet curtains caught fire at the end of the day. Opposite the Albert Hall was Canberra’s only sculpture Bellona. It was a regular prank to cover her bulges with a brassier. A mini gold course opened above the shops in Civic and slowly and surely green patches appeared on the landscape dotted with white clad figures playing bowls, cricket and croquet. In the depth of the Depression the Manuka swimming pool opened and the Highgate café installed the first 4d milk shake machine. What could ask for more? Anything to do with aeroplanes was also a craze’ Children made propellers; Kingsford Smith and Ulm came gave joy flights in the Southern Cross for 10/-. My parents attended a dinner for them at the Hotel Canberra and they signed their menu. We waited hours for Amy Johnson to land on York Park and were equally excited when Bert Hinkler did the same thing. Although we had suburbs named Eastlake and Westlake the names meant nothing’ we did not expect to see a lake emerge from the lucerne flats. The Molonglo river suited us well for yabby fishing under the willows.

In fact very little emerged from the paddocks during the depression or the war years. The War Memorial opened soon after the start of the second world war which caused many a heart to ache. Canberra was criticised for being a crying shame, a rest home for public servants a white elephant, a hideous waste of taxpayers money, a well lit sheep station in fact a shocking mistake. Such comments were received by locals with a smile. They knew they were on a winner Societies flourished, hikers took to the hills, the Aero club to the sky, the alpine club to the snow. The Repertory to the stage the Artists to their trestles, the philatelists to their magnifying glasses. We all went for a dip at the Manuka pool or the Cotter. If we did not know everyone we knew them by sight and nodded and smiled.

I attended school at Telopea and Girls Grammar. Happy days but not very exciting. The only excursions were to the Institute of Anatomy to see the development of an egg from go to woe and Pharlap’s heart or else to collect frogs eggs at the dam near the surveyors hut for zoology. The only science subject taught at our school. In the gap between the Depression and the war my sister and I were given a horse. We galloped over paddocks that were called parks in name only. There was no green grass, ponds, benches taps or loos. We were often accompanied by Duntroon cadets as Cavalry was still a requirement there. They looked dashing in their uniforms and with spurs to speed their mounts. My sister married a Duntrooner. I had two ambitions – one to live on a property like Noarh of Billabong the other to become a nurse. Neither eventuated. To fill in a year before nursing I took a job feeding grasshoppers at CSIR as it was known then. There I met a budding scientist. It was not love at first sight. I was being courted by handsome cadets and he was a big boss and way out of my sphere. However he had an eye for the girls and a wonderful wit and determination. He seconded me to assist in his sheep blowfly research. There was no turning back. The magnetic attraction maintained it’s power for over 60 years. He went to New Guinea with the tropical medical corps and I was sent to Trangie to deal with locusts on the ground. We were married in St. Johns when he was on leave in 1944. After the war he left for Cambridge and I returned to my parents home. In 1948 we decided to build a house. Materials were so scarce we had to make our own bricks so it took years. I still live in it. We produced four active children and became involved in the first Pre school in the old hospital at Acton followed by other pre schools and later school boards. We enjoyed a fascinating social life meeting new diplomats and academics from the new ANU I took up pottery at Tech and when courses became available for those without degrees I joined Professor Tom Inglis Moore’s first class for Australian literature. My husband’s research in biological research earned him an International reputation. He was elected a fellow of the Royal Society of London along with many world Academies of Science. We belonged to the Horticultural Society and exhibited flowers and vegetables in the shows at the Albert Hall. We had a year at Yale USA. Thereafter my husband travelled extensively while I kept the home fires burning. One or other of the children seemed to have a vital exam looming. I spent several years as the Hon Director of the Red Cross Blood Bank housed in the old Acton Offices. And several times I had the joy of arranging home grown flowers in the Senate rooms for Royal visits and decorating more charity balls than I can count. By the end of the 50s and early 60s Canberra was thriving. When escalators went into the mall my mother’s faith in the city was realised. I took her and my 3 year old son to the Esquire restaurant to taste Cappuccino for the first time. When the machine started up with the spluttering and gurgling, a little voice piped up “fee fie foe fum, mummy I hear God!” No longer was Canberra a country hick town and to top it off Lake Burley Griffin emerged beautiful than we could ever have imagined. Canberrans were fiercely proud of the progress the city had made when in 1970 our of the blue the demolition squad arrived. Early treasures were ruthlessly wiped off the landscape. Glebe House, St John’s first rectory was demolished, the little shop-keepers homes in Manuka became Banks and supermarkets, the National Library where we school-children had been given a half holiday to the poet laureate lay the foundation stone came down overnight. The city timepiece, the power house whistle ceased to blow, the main Post Office closed it’s doors, homes in Kingston and Northbourne Avenue toppled domino fashion, the contents of the Institute of Anatomy were removed and the appropriate building allocated to an inappropriate activity. The home of Sir Robert Garran, a father of Federation was sold and altered without a patriotic murmur. The Hotel Canberra, the centre for celebrations was turned into government offices. There was talk that the old parliament house would be demolished but when the Capitol theatre came down it was the last straw. Such destruction was alien to the early residents who considered these buildings comparatively new. There was no respect for the city’s unique beginnings as opposed to the rural history. Thank goodness there were enough people willing to sound the warning bells and at last there was some recognition of our past but even as I speak York Park is being desecated. Imagine if it had been allowed to become a restful arboretum for all the town house dwellers now in the area.

Never the less Canberra looks superb on this autumn day. So where have all the flies gone? Gone is the Barcoo salute, gone the bassinette and pram nets and the bobbing corks. Gone are the lovely local farms and dairies. Gone mostly to concrete. All over Canberra, folk sit and sip their café latte out on the pavements as waitresses dash in and out of open doors. Elegant meals are served hot from microwave ovens. Old residents walk by in amazement and if they are not wearing hats I think we can safely say they have eaten them.

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