Category: Journal 2006

by Maisie and Jim Gillespie

Jim and I, with our baby son Gordon, aged 4 months, left Scotland on the 19th October, 1948 for a new life in Australia. We were going to Riverstone, as we had been sponsored by my uncle, Peter Steele, of Richards Avenue.

The ship taking us to this new life was the S.S. Empire Brent carrying 900 passengers. During the war this ship had been used as a troop carrier and, although we were well looked after, cabin accommodation was not what we had expected. Gordon and I shared a cabin on the first deck with 15 other females. Jim was under the same conditions, with men, two decks below. Although we were restricted as to what, and the amount of, baggage we could take, mainly clothes, we were very fortunate in being allowed to take Gordon’s pram with us. This proved a blessing for us, especially later on.

Two days into our voyage we encountered very rough seas in the Bay of Biscay. Many passengers, including my ex-Royal Navy husband, succumbed to seasickness. Fortunately Gordon and I coped very well. In complete contrast, the Mediterranean Sea was just like a sheet of glass. There were organised activities if you cared to participate, but we were quite happy to spend the time together on deck, watching the world, and the ocean, go by.

Passing the coasts of Algeria, Libya and Egypt, we were headed for the Red Sea via the Suez Canal, and by this time it was getting very hot. Going through the Suez Canal was a thrilling experience. One could almost shake hands with the men on its banks, and pluck the dates from the trees. It was the first time, too, that we had seen camels. They were everywhere. Midway along the canal is a passing place for ships called the Bitter Lakes. The canal is only wide enough for one ship. We spent about two hours anchored here to allow another ship coming the other way to proceed.

In my cabin were a woman and her little girl, the personal hygiene of whom left much to be desired. By this time, coupled with the heat, it became too much for me to bear. I could not stay in the cabin any longer and chose to sleep up on deck, in a deck chair, with Gordon beside me in his pram. We were quite comfortable. I awoke one morning to see a turbaned man standing by my chair. Unknowingly, we had arrived in Port Said and were re-fuelling. He meant no harm. I think he was intrigued with Gordon’s pram. Mother Nature blessed us for the woman in question gave birth to her second child just before reaching Fremantle and we never saw her again. The three of them were kept
in the hospital till she arrived in Melbourne. Thus I was able to go back to my bunk.

After leaving the Red Sea we sailed into the Indian Ocean. For eleven days we never saw another vessel, so this part of the voyage was quite uneventful.

Sailing in to Fremantle we were met by a pipe band playing on the pier. It was very stirring. We were allowed to get off the ship here for a few hours, the first time since we sailed from Scotland. The butchers’ shop windows fascinated us, there were cuts of meat we had never seen since before the war. Better still, to Jim’s delight, was the display of chocolates. Needless to say, he did indulge! When it was time to sail from Fremantle one very inebriated passenger almost missed the ship. The gangplank had been raised so a rope ladder was lowered down the side of the ship, and anxious crew and onlookers were thinking “Will he?” or “Won’t he?”, as he missed his footing several times.
Eventually he was heaved on board.

By this time we were eagerly awaiting the reunion with our family, whom we had never seen, but knew much of. That long-awaited moment came on 25th November. As long as I live, I shall never forget the stunning beauty of sailing into Sydney Harbour at 6:00am on that glorious morning. After immigration and customs had been cleared we were on our way, by car, to Riverstone. I remember passing Stacey’s shop and thinking, “Fancy leaving rotten potatoes in the window”, only to find that they were passionfruit. Of course they were new to us.

We soon settled into our new life. We did miss our family, of course, but everyone was kind to us and we were welcomed wherever we went, especially by the congregation of St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church. Many of the friendships made then are still enjoyed today. Here I may mention that, a few days after our arrival, Mrs Cecilia Bond called on us in Richards Avenue. She had seen our baggage on Riverstone Station. The Bond family had come to Australia on the Empire Brent’s previous voyage. Jim worked in the meatworks’ tannery at Northmead awaiting the establishment of
Villawood Textile Co. We bought a block of land at the top end of Regent Street, and, in April 1950, we moved in to what was to become our home for 45 years. Financial circumstances allowed us to only partly build that home, but it was ours and we were very happy.

Life has had its ups and downs, (whose life hasn’t), but I can only sum it up by saying, we have shared life in Riverstone with so many good, kind people that, when we decided to come to Australia, we are glad our destination was Riverstone.

by Rosemary Phillis

John McHugh joined the Royal Australian Navy (RAN) in 1950, when he was 17 years of age. He completed what was known as ‘Boys Time’. He was a stoker mechanic, (later known as a mechanical engineer), working in the engine room of the ships. He was posted to Flinders in Victoria for his initial training.

The RAN routinely moved men from ship to ship, wherever they were needed and to gain more experience. John served on a number of vessels including HMAS ‘Condamine’, HMAS ‘Voyager’ and HMAS ‘Melbourne’ (SEATO 1963). These ships sailed in both Australian and Asian waters.

John served in the RAN during the Korean War, from 1952 to 1955. The role of the RAN included patrols, shelling and supplies. Interestingly, John’s brother, Greville George McHugh served in the Korean War in the Army.

John spent his time during the Korean War on HMAS ‘Condamine’. In 1997, one of his shipmates, Vince Fazio, released a book called, “HMAS CONDAMINE The Story of a Uniquely Australian Frigate”. The following excerpts give some insight into some of the things that John would have experienced during his time in the Korean War.

In June 1952 the ‘Condamine’ sailed from Australia to Kure in Japan. She commenced her first war patrol on 3 August 1952, in the Haeju area on the West coast of Korea. Initially the ‘Condamine’ had the task of “looking after rail traffic”, which meant trying to shell trains as they ran along the railway line on the coast. According to Vince, ships would either lie “doggo” at set points, hoping to catch a train between tunnels, or, alternatively, fired away to destroy rail lines at positions where repair work would be very hazardous to carry out.

The ‘Condamine’ did have success in firing on a train, but there was a twist to the story as Vince records: “Some minutes later a southbound train was observed making a dash, but with the CONDAMINE firing continuously at a particular point, two obvious hits were observed and the train was stopped. The elation of the victory was short lived however, when half of the train continued south, whilst the rear half backed into cover. LCDR Savage observed, that it appeared the North Koreans had catered for such an eventuality by having a locomotive at both ends of the train, enabling what was left of the train to clear the danger spot….”

On 22 October 1952, the ‘Condamine’ was damaged in a collision with HMS ‘Cossack’ which was attempting to transfer across mail for the ‘Condamine’. Damage to ‘Cossack’ was minor, but as Vince Fazio records: “The damage to the ‘Condamine’, although only about five feet below the deck edge on the bows, would have allowed a substantial amount of water in. As an interim measure, some damage control measures were taken by Joiner Vince Fazio with Stoker John McHugh assisting… The hole was successfully plugged and shored…”

The freezing cold Korean winter weather created some very difficult conditions on the ship. John McHugh put together a photograph album of his first years on the ship. Several photos show the top deck of the ship covered in ice. Vince recalls: “Snowfalls were almost continuous by now and for the majority of the ships company, the sight of a foot of snow on the upper deck was a novelty. The time honoured practice of snow ball fights was quickly established.”

Warm clothing was a necessity, even down in the engine room where John was. Vince describes: “Speaking of suitable warm clothing, which we weren’t, but will, the author recalls the dressing routine. Normal underwear, with a string singlet under the Chesty Bond, Long Johns, socks, shirt, long sleeved jumper, working dress trousers, seaboot socks, seaboots, single breasted coat, wool gloves, outer gloves, duffel coat and balaclava. So far so good, but when on the upper deck trying to carry out routine repairs, etc., one could hardly move for the sheer bulk and weight of the clothing.”

The Boiler Room watch keepers had to ‘rug up’ as well. Seems hard to believe, but when under the air flow from the forced draught fans, pulling in extremely cold air, such clothing was as necessary as it was anywhere else on the ship.

In addition to her war time patrols, the crew of the ‘Condamine’ also provided support to locals on some of the islands that they visited. At Christmas in 1952 after taking up collections on board, they purchased toys, which were distributed, to children at an orphanage at Taeyong Pyong Do.

When the crew were advised that the ‘Condamine’ was returning home, they started to stock up on souvenirs as Vince describes: “Up to now, purchase of ‘rabbits’ (souvenirs, etc.) had been discouraged so as not to clutter the ship in case of emergency. Now, all the lay bys, and last minute shopping was open slather and all purchases were brought aboard and stowed in the nooks and crannies, which had been earmarked for the purpose! Sailors seem to have a knack of being able to stow items in spaces where the average person would think it impossible.”

Hospitality was returned to the various Army messes who had hosted the ship on differing occasions, in particular the Army mess at Hiro. There are many stories and fond recollections of the hospitality by Army and Japanese civilians, who held the Australians in high regard locally.

During her time the ‘Condamine’ took part in shelling activities, escort duties, evacuation of wounded Marines, supported minesweepers amongst other duties. On 20 April 1953, ‘Condamine’ arrived at Garden Island, after ten months away.

According to Vince, after their arrival … “LCDR Savage was interviewed on three occasions by the ABC in a matter of days, giving a good account of his ship and her company. The Korean War did not attract the emotional outbursts that were prevalent during the Vietnam conflict. It has been described as the Forgotten War, as nobody apart from those who served in it, seem to care.”

The ‘Condamine’ returned to the Korean area again in 1955 for Peacekeeping duties and continued in Navy service until 2 December 1955, when she “hauled down her White Ensign for the last time”. Appropriately, her motto was “We Fight for Peace”.

In 1953 John married his wife Moira, who shares with us memories of life as a Navy wife: “I was working in Sydney. Accommodation was difficult to find and I was sharing half a house with three other girls. The landlord was a Lebanese man and I got on all right with him and was able to stay living there until he redeveloped the building. When John and I married we had a small wedding and such was the custom at that time that I invited the landlord and one of the other people who lived in the building.

John was in the Navy and away for long periods of time. If they were based down at Jervis Bay a number of them would hire a car and come up for the weekend. When our first baby, Robert, came along, it was difficult for me to find accommodation. Landlords didn’t like renting to people with children. I didn’t understand the reason, but while you were looking you didn’t take the baby or anything like a bunny rug that might give them the suspicion that you had children.

I managed to find a place at Rushcutters Bay, on the third floor of a building. There was no lift, three flights of wooden stairs, limited lighting and I had to share cooking facilities. The view from the window was of a coal dump. It was difficult to carry everything up the stairs all the time, especially with the baby. I used to cook on a small spirit stove to make things easier. At the time I was just glad to have a roof over my head. One night there was a fire in a mattress in the room across the hallway. There was smoke everywhere. Soon after that I decided that I had to get out of there.

I moved around with the children after that, living with my parents on the Northern Tablelands and John’s parents at Riverstone. Finally with the assistance of War Services, we were able to purchase a block of land in Regent Street Riverstone and build a small house, where I still live.

John didn’t talk much about his work in the Navy. I just accepted that was the way it was and got on with things. John always liked me to go down to Garden Island to see him off when he went to sea. I would also go down when he came home, something that was a little more difficult when the first baby came along. In those days you’d dress up and wear your stilettos to look your best, not very practical around all the metal and especially if you got to go on the boat.

I remember going on the boat one time and having to go down a ladder. John said to me “you go first”. When I asked why, he said that was the way it was, so that a man couldn’t look up your dress! If I was to go up a ladder, he would go first! That’s the way it was.

John loved to buy things when away, always the biggest and the strongest he could get. Amongst other things he brought back a heavy ironing board and a set of saucepans. He brought a dinner set, but I didn’t get to see it as they went through a hurricane and it got broken. Having been on board the ship and seen how little space there was, I never understood where they stored these ‘souvenirs’.

Sometimes they had family days when the boat was in Sydney. I recall going down to Garden Island when he was on the ‘Melbourne’ when it was home for Christmas. It was a large ship and someone came up with the idea to fill the lift well with water. They then put in a canoe and gave the children a ride in the canoe on the water. They also showed movies in the hanger. It was pitch black and I admit that it made me feel claustrophobic, but I soldiered on, you didn’t want to embarrass your husband at any cost.

They had family day out on the harbour on the ‘Voyager’. I wasn’t able to go, so John took one of our children and a friend. I was worried about the children getting seasick. John told me not to worry as the Captain wouldn’t go out of the heads if the weather was rough. The kids went, had lots to eat and of course the Captain did take the boat out through the heads, it was rough and you can imagine the result. All those sick children!

John served on the ‘Voyager’ before moving to the ‘Melbourne’. Tragically in 1964, the
‘Melbourne’ collided with the ‘Voyager’, cutting the ‘Voyager’ in half and killing many men.

The next morning someone came to visit when they heard the news on the radio, and the phone continued to ring with others. There was nothing that I could do, there was no point in trying to ring, I knew that eventually either John would contact me, or the Navy would. John never said much about it, apart from when it happened that the call went out “Battle Stations” and he went to the engine room. I asked him how he would have known if the ‘Melbourne’ was sinking, he said he would have seen a ‘shadow’ on the floor near the stairs.

It must have been a very painful time for him, for having served on the ‘Voyager’, he knew many of the men who had been killed. It was a smaller boat and they got to know their fellow sailors. The ‘Melbourne’ was a lot bigger and you didn’t get to know people all that well.

I remember one other time being at home having breakfast with my son Robert and John’s sister Joan, when I heard something about someone on the boat that John was on having been taken by a shark while swimming. Once again there was nothing I could do but wait. I was relieved to receive a telegram from John basically saying “Not Me”. He later said it was a bit disconcerting; the cook served fresh fish for tea that night.

John finished his first time with the Navy. He tried working in the local butchers’ shop to become a butcher, but didn’t like it much. He came home one day, told me he had quit and the next thing he went out, came back and told me he had enlisted again. My stomach dropped, as I had become used to him being at home, but it was what he wanted to do.

John travelled to many places with the Navy. He went to Japan several times and once brought back a series of Japanese pop records. The girls used to listen to them and when he was home, as he came across the paddocks, he’d whistle one of the tunes and they’d know he was coming.

John had injured his back while in the Navy, playing football on one of the islands. Whenever they were close to an island, they liked to get the men to get off the ship. Sports such as football games were a good way to get exercise.

Although John didn’t talk much about his time in the Navy, he did mention things from time to time. I know that during the Korean War they had close contact with the Army and he used to meet up with Ron Bull, another local who lived in the same street in Riverstone, and had joined the Army.

After the war, John’s brother George told me more about what went on in Korea. John had put together a photo album of his first years in the Navy. It was George who got out the album and told me all about the places in the pictures. John just went outside and played with the children.

Over the years his back injury got worse. John rose to the rank of Petty Officer ME, before being discharged in 1965, after being assessed as medically unfit due to the back injury.”

by Ernie Byrnes

Before I indulge in my experiences with ice-skating I would like to enlighten the reader with some early facts about this favourite pastime.

Australia’s first ice rink opened in Adelaide in 1904. It had 8,000sq. Metres of ice and was named the “Glaciarium”, it could seat 3,000 spectators, held three sessions a day, admission was one shilling, to hire ice skates was sixpence. This rink was closed after only two years of operation when the operator moved the business to Melbourne and operated for the next 50 years.

Sydney’s first ice rink, also named the “Glaciarium”, was opened during 1907 in George Street near the Central Railway Station. Ice Skating became so popular that a second ice rink was opened during 1938. This one was called “The Ice Palais” and was situated in the Hall of Industries at the old Sydney Showground.

When World War 2 was in progress these rinks were a favourite place with our servicemen, also visiting servicemen from overseas whilst on R. and R. [Rest and Relaxation] leave.

About the time and age of 19 (1946) a group of my friends and I, namely Max McCutcheon, Tom Tozer, Kevin Tracey and Ray Ryan decided that we should have a go at ice-skating. One Saturday morning in winter we caught the steam train into Sydney and walked down to the Glaciarium Ice Rink, which was near Broadway and not far from Central Railway. When I started courting a young lass by the name of Judy Martz, not long after we had started skating, she started coming with us.

The learning process was usually wet and painful, as we would frequently fall over, there was a low wall right around the ice rink for learners to hold onto and gaps in the wall to step onto the ice, it took us a few visits to the rink to properly maintain our balance and eventually stay on our feet.

The skates that we had to hire at the rink did not help, as they were always blunt and would slide out from under you. We were told that if we slipped the attendant, who gave out the skates, one shilling he would give us a good sharp set, as in order to grip the ice, skates had to have two sharp edges.

The Glaci had three sessions daily: 10am to 12am, 2pm to 4pm, and 8pm to 10.30pm. Saturday night entry cost 3/9 (3 shillings and nine pence) and to hire skates cost sixpence. If desired, dancing lessons (on ice) with an instructor could be booked at the office for a nominal fee.

During the night a bell would ring. This meant to clear the ice, as there would be separate sessions for public skating, dancing if you wished or could, speed skating for those who wanted to have a go. During the dancing and speed sessions only the public who wanted to participate were allowed on the ice. The same bell would mean for you to stop and do reverse skating around the rink.

When we were proficient enough, and could afford the cost, we ventured into buying our own skates. I can remember my first pair, second hand ones, came up for sale at the ice rink and I quickly purchased them. The first thing I had done was to get them sharpened. Later, when we could afford, it Judy and I had custom made boots made to fit our feet.

So great was our love affair with ice-skating, we would regularly go into Sydney early on every Saturday morning. We would catch the 7.30am steam train from Riverstone and go to the morning session, which started at 10 o’clock and went until 12 o’clock, then out to get a bit of lunch and go to one of the afternoon picture sessions at one of the many theatres in Sydney. Some of these were the “Capitol, Lyceum, Regent and the State”. The State was a magnificent theatre with a large stage; it housed a large pipe organ, which would rise up from below the stage level with the organist playing. It was always a pleasure to visit this theatre, if only to admire the beautiful building. We
normally chose to sit in the “Dress Circle”. There were times we would do the three sessions of skating.

Occasionally we would go to the “Tivoli” to watch “Stiffy and Mo”, (Roy Rene’s stage name was Mo Mackie), and sometimes to see the comedian George Wallace. These were great entertainers in their day that captivated large audiences. There were also the chorus girls in their flimsy outfits. After the pictures or Tivoli sessions we would go to the “Peoples Palace Cafe” in George Street for a meal. This café had a downstairs section, which we always used. Being downstairs, the noise from the street was not so bad. Then it was back to the Glaciarium in time for the night skating session that started at 8 o’clock.

On Saturday nights we would skate around the ice to the beautiful sounds of the “Blue Danube Waltz” the “Skaters Waltz” and the “Tales from the Vienna Woods”, all great favourites of mine. Other tunes would be played from the large live orchestra that was situated at one end and above the rink. This orchestra only played on Saturday nights. For the other sessions recorded music was played.

If we chose we could leave our skates at the rink, at a cost. A number was painted under the boots, quote this number and your skates were given. We tried this, but not often, as we usually took our skates home to dry and clean them and put Vaseline on the metal, so as to prevent rust forming on the sharpened part of the blade, and also to polish the leather boots.

Dress code was strictly observed on the ice, men wore a suit and tie, women could wear street clothes or if preferred the traditional short skirt dress with no break [no midriff]. If men turned up with no tie one could be loaned from the office. Two male supervisors were always on the ice to enforce the dress code and they also did not allow any misbehaviour to other skaters, if so it was out the door. The night was for everyone to be able to enjoy this pastime.

There was a first-aid room for accidents that often occurred as someone could fall over. It was natural to put your hands on the ice to protect your fall; a following skater could and did cut the fingers.

After the skating session was over we would walk up to Central Station and catch the last steam train leaving for home, leaving Central Station at 10.55pm, getting into Riverstone at midnight.

This train always had mixed carriages. The normal walk through ones had a toilet situated in the middle of the carriage, to be used by both gender. At the end of each carriage, near the door, there was always a glass jar filled with water and a drinking glass to quench your thirst. The other type of carriages were what was called “Box” carriages. These were single compartment carriages with a door at either end opening onto the platform and a single toilet at one end.

The carriage doors were lockable only from the outside. I had managed to find a piece of square steel that fitted the train door lock. This came from an old house door lock and was fashioned into a key. I would wait until the train had cleared Central Station then lock the two doors and pull up the timber shutters. This prevented anyone else from getting in and also from seeing in. This way we could lay down on the seats and not be disturbed by other passengers. If there was not enough room  for all of us on the seats some would get up on the metal luggage racks. These were quite narrow and not very comfortable, being constructed of steel with wire mesh. I would unlock both doors as we came into Riverstone station. A lot of the old Box carriages had a series of photos in them.

The Glaci was not the only ice rink we visited, also on our list were the ones at the Sydney Showground located in the Hall of Industries named “The Ice Palais”. This opened in 1938 and closed in 1951. To get there we would get the Rattlers [trams] from Central Railway Station. Prince Alfred Park was an open-air rink. We only visited these several times, later we tried the rink at Homebush.

The ice rinks were seasonal and on closing night at the Glaci they would turn off the refrigeration for the ice. Naturally the ice would start to melt and a film of water would form. It was always on to try and bring down as many skaters as possible while yourself trying to avoid contact with the ice, which was impossible. On this night we would normally go home wet, or sometimes we would take a change of clothes.

Judy and I started to have dance lessons and were asked by our male instructor to take part in an ice show with some well known skater at the time. We both agreed, however we had to make up our own clothes to represent French characters at a French café. This proved no problem, as Judy’s mother was a dressmaker. Before the show we had to go into Sydney on Sundays for rehearsals. The rink was closed to the public on Sundays. We normally had to wait for the ice hockey players to finish their practise. The show finally came and went off quite well and we were both happy to be part of it. These ice shows would be put on at various times of the ice skating season and always
featured the recognized skaters of the day. There was always a packed house at these shows.

Saturday nights to avoid waiting in the usual big line up at the ticket office; we would buy a book of tickets at the office with a certain amount of tickets in it. The ticket collector would be in the cubicle to collect the money but would not start until 8pm. Getting there early, we would have him tear out one ticket which allowed us to walk straight in and get our regular seats, as we always met in the same place. Saturday nights were always a packed house. On occasions we would travel in to see an ice hockey match.

Two types of skates were used. The normal and most used was the “Figure Skate”; these had a set of teeth at the front end and were used mainly for figure skating and dancing. The people doing exhibitions all wore this type. The other type, being called the “Tube Skate”, was used mainly for speed skating and used by the ice hockey players. Judy, Kevin and I used figure skates while the others chose the Tubes.

We started our love for ice-skating in 1946 and continued until 1952 rarely missing a Saturday during the open season.

by Alan Strachan

It was during September 1967 and through the local “grapevine” at Neil Murray’s shop, I found out that “The Seekers” were filming a television special in the area on a steam train running between Riverstone and Mulgrave. After making further inquiries of the railway staff at the Riverstone Railway Station, it was confirmed that the four members of “The Seekers” would be filming in the area for about five days on a special train operating out of Riverstone.

Apparently the reason Riverstone and Mulgrave were chosen was because of the loop-lines, which meant the engine could turn about and again connect up with the carriages, thus running back and forth between the two locations. The special train was scheduled to run between regular train services on the Richmond Line.

The loco was a 30 Class Tank-Engine and I recall seeing this engine hauling two very large maroon/red carriages with the door in the centre, on several occasions during the five days of filming. Working for Neil Murray’s shop, I was out on the road much of the time delivering groceries to the shop customers in and out of town. The first time I encountered the train I was driving the delivery van along Railway Terrace from Schofields. I saw the tank engine on the up line at the set of points at the junction, and the two carriages were standing parked at the main platform at Riverstone Station.

The second time that I saw the special train, I was returning to Riverstone from a delivery at Vineyard, along Riverstone Parade. At that time, the train was travelling along the line heading in the same direction at a slow rate of speed, so it made it a lot easier to see what was going on in the carriages. It would have been about 2.00pm in the afternoon, and I stayed alongside the train from Otago Street at Vineyard to Melbourne Street. During the brief drive alongside the train, I saw several people on board who occupied the two carriages. In one carriage, two cameramen were busy using their cameras, aiming them in the direction of the woman inside the carriage. In those days they either used 16mm or 35mm film, and not video film like today.

The third and final occasion that I saw the train, was one afternoon about 3.00pm, when I was held up at the gates at the Railway Crossing in Garfield Road. At the time I was heading out to Marsden Park. I was first in line, and the train at that stage was heading back to its depot on the up line, prior to the peak time commencing on the line. As the train passed, I could clearly see the “Seekers”, Judith Durham, Bruce Woodley, Athol Guy and Keith Potger on board and peering out from the windows up Garfield Road. They were possibly taking a last glance of the town, as were the other passengers who accompanied them on the special train.

With the departure of this train, it was all the talk of the town and the residents of Riverstone were now eagerly awaiting the special presentation to appear on their television sets.

The screening of the special eventually took place on Monday night 29 April 1968 when “The World Of The Seekers” was presented at 7.30pm on TCN 9. It was an hour long show which was thoroughly enjoyable on our black and white television sets [no colour TV sets until 1975] and it was the main topic of conversation at Neil Murray’s Shop the next day.

As I watched the special, one of the songs titled “Angeline” came on. This segment was filmed at different locations in the area. At first it showed Bruce Woodley walking across the railway tracks at Mulgrave and up onto the platform. Then there were glimpses of an actress, Helen Shoults, as “Angeline” peering out of the window of the train carriage on her way to meet up with Bruce Woodley at Mulgrave Station. This scene on the train was taken over many re-takes, and in the background the tall iron bark trees in the Riverstone Meat Works Paddock at Vineyard appears, then more scenes were filmed to mix in along the line to Mulgrave, and another scene which showed more trees flashing by, which I feel was along Riverstone Parade on the way to Riverstone.

When the steam train is seen racing along the tracks, it is coming along the stretch of line nearing Vineyard Railway Station, the iron bark trees in the background giving the location away. Other scenes featured in the song, show the viaduct spanning Rickaby Creek between Windsor and Clarendon. There were two scenes of the viaduct, with the first on the northern where the farmer takes his hat off to the train as it crosses the viaduct from Clarendon side, and one scene from the southern side where the train crosses over again from the Clarendon end.

As the train arrives at Mulgrave from Riverstone, the steam engine goes directly under the camera. As there was no overhead bridge over the railway line, and it was doubtful that the camera man hung from the signals nearby, it is not clearly known how this scene was filmed. The steam engine used was a 30 Class Tank No. 3024. Film of this engine hauling the carriages was taken from a moving car. In all, the co-ordinated three minute segment filmed locally, and the song to go with it, was a pleasant one and one worth waiting for. 

Whilst “The Seekers” were working in the area on the special television production, I was the projectionist at the Olympia Theatre Riverstone. A film that stays in my memory is “Georgy Girl” which was screening at the Olympia at the same time. The film featured “The Seekers” song hit “Georgy Girl” which was performed on the soundtrack.

In 1967, it was full steam ahead on the Richmond Line and possibly the reason why the location was selected for the segment for inclusion in the television special. At that time, steam trains still had two years to run on the Richmond Line before they were phased out.

The line was one of the last to use steam trains, and the last run was a “P” Class Steam Loco 3324 which made a brave showing as she pulled out of the Richmond platform on the 7.56am run to Sydney on Saturday morning of 25th October, 1969. As though aware of the significance of the occasion the old loco poured out a billowing cloud of thick black smoke from her funnel and a trail of steam hissed out from her valves. Fireman Colin Watkins and Driver Frank Breen took the old loco on her last run from Richmond. As from Saturday 25th October 1969 the few remaining “P” Class and small “S” Class tank locomotives were taken off the line and were replaced with the 48 Class Diesel-Electric Locomotives.

A humorous story about the rail gates from the Windsor & Richmond Gazette 19 April 1928.

The refusal of the Railway Commissioners to confer with the request of Blacktown Council and establish public gates and constitute a crossing between Schofields and Riverstone brings to mind an old story concerning the Riverstone gates which, as the principal concerned has long since passed beyond mortal compliment or blame may be told (says “Cumberland Argus”). A relieving stationmaster was in charge at Riverstone, and had been spending an evening with friends, perhaps less wisely than well, and on his return to his lodgings, he forgot to close the gates. Early in the morning he was awakened by a tremendous banging on his door. Some cattle had got on to the line with the result that the early morning goods train was derailed, and it was necessary to call out all hands to get it on again.

Later in the day the stationmaster was interviewed in his office by the dairyman of foreign nationality: “Vat about mine cow that your train ki lled?” “Oh”, replied the stationmaster, “so you’re the owner of that cow. Well I’m glad you’ve called, it will save us no end of trouble. You know that your cow had no right to be on the line. It was trespassing, and as a result one of our engines has been thrown off the line, and we’ve had to bring out a lot of men to get it back on again.” He then went into a long calculation of the time occupied and amount of wages involved at overtime rates, and then announced to the foreigner, “I think that if you pay us about ₤5 that will about square it.”

“It was not mine cow at all.” Was the cry of the foreigner as he quickly took his departure from the station, lest a larger claim might be made upon him.

by Clarrie Neal

A reference to Riverstone in the Daily Telegraph Insearch column led Gordon Burn to contacting the Historical Society with information on the origin of the Riverstone Bus Service.

Gordon Burn, aged 25, came to Riverstone from Manly in 1946 to form the Riverstone Bus Service in a partnership with Noel Lakeman-Fidler. who had started the bus service a few months earlier in March. Prior to that, Noel Fidler had owned two 1929 La Salle hire cars that he sold to Norm Heather so as he could then concentrate on the new bus service. He was also the local Estate Agent leasing the shop in Parrington Terrace and sold this business to Ambrose Driscoll. Noel and Gordon agreed that each would receive a weekly wage of seven pounds.

Their first buses were:

• a 1928 Reo with a malthoid roof and capable of seating 20 passengers. (Gordon recalled this was the first bus he ever drove.)
• a 1935 Bedford seating 27 passengers.
• a 1942 Chev bought from the Glenorie Bus Company capable of seating 31 passengers

There were three main bus runs, the Township, Marsden Park, and Rouse Hill/Box Hill. All the bus runs commenced from Garfield Road, opposite the Riverstone Parade junction. There were no designated bus stops, the stop was decided where the most passengers congregated.

The Township run travelled along Riverstone Parade, Crown Road, Hamilton Street, McCulloch Street, Riverstone Road, James Street, Oxford Street and Garfield Road. There were four services a day and the fare was sixpence.

The Marsden Park run extended along Garfield Road West, Marsden Park school, Richmond Road, Vine Street, Fermoy Street, Carnarvon Road and Garfield Road. There were three services a day through the week for the workers and shoppers and two services on Sundays for visitors to the area. Through the week this bus service also delivered the mail to the Berkshire Park Post Office and Gordon well remembers the times crossing the South Creek bridge during floods.

The Rouse Hill run extended from Garfield Road, Terry Road, Old Pitt Town Road, Edwards Road, Annangrove Road, Withers Road, Mile End Road, Windsor Road, and Garfield Road back to Riverstone. Gordon recalled the rainy days they had problems crossing the creek on Withers Road, often having to continue on along Annangrove Road to the Windsor Road to get access to Mile End Road.

He also recalled the days with the bus running late and missing the connection with the train at Riverstone. The bus would then race the train to Schofields, and sometimes with the co-operation of the train driver, get there in time for the passengers to catch their train.

The bus company bought a 1926 Essex tourer from Wally Cornwell to use as their company car; if the bus was unavailable, this car was used to pick up the passengers on the Rouse Hill run. Gordon has fond memories of this Box Hill run, picking up old Mrs Terry, Mrs Turnbull and others and taking them into Riverstone to do their shopping.

Gordon recalled their special runs, the buses to Richmond for the Thursday and Saturday night dance and pictures. Also another bus on Saturday night carried patrons to the Rivoli theatre at Vineyard, and the run to Castle Hill on their Show days.

In the afternoon they made four to five trips with a shuttle service from the meat works to the railway station and the fare was tuppence. Gordon recalled the workers would not pay the fare to travel to work in the morning, but when they finished their day’s work they were glad to pay tuppence to get a ride to the station.

In 1947 they bought a 1938 Reo from the Punchbowl Bus Company to carry workers to and from Riverstone to the factories at St. Marys. It was a 42 seater and Noel Fidler was the driver for this run. Casual drivers who drove the buses for the company in these days included Norm Powe, Jack Keogh, Doug Turnbull, Stan Harris and Archie Beasley.

The bus depot was located in Garfield Road opposite the Parrington Terraces and attached to the depot was a small room that served as their office. In one of the four bays a pit was dug for the mechanic to service the vehicles, Gordon and Noel doing most of their own mechanical repairs. The 1938 Reo and the 1942 Chev had Perkins diesel engines that were difficult to start and were replaced with Chevrolet petrol engines.

Major repairs were carried out at both Nichols and Knights garages but Vic Knight was the only mechanic who could service the brakes on the 1937 Bedford. Gordon recalled this bus after turning from McCulloch Street into Riverstone Road always had problems when required to stop going down that hill. The brakes on this vehicle required attention every month. Transport inspectors came out every month to do a mechanical check and a brake test on each bus.

Gordon recalled petrol ration coupons were still being issued several years after the war had finished. He had to go to Sydney every month to get their quota of ration coupons, and also had to get a permit for each special trip made to such places as Richmond dances and Vineyard pictures.

Noel Fidler left the partnership in 1948 to take over a bus service in Windsor and John Storey joined Gordon in the Riverstone Bus Service. The following year Gordon and John took delivery of their first new bus, a 1949 Bedford with an all steel body.

John Storey died suddenly in 1951 while on a trip to Brisbane. At this point Gordon decided to sell the bus service and left Riverstone in 1951 to work for the Parramatta Bus company.

Following his discharge from the RAAF Gordon lived in Manly for a short period with his wife Kay and their two eldest daughters. With the opportunity to start the bus service he came to Riverstone with his family in 1946.

Accommodation was a serious problem at the time and they had to share a ‘house’ with Noel Fidler and his family. Their ‘house’ was the two rooms adjacent Carlisles store in Garfield Road, near the Olympia theatre, the Fidler family had the front room and the Burn family lived in the back room.

His wife Kay recalled their experiences at the time –

• a curtain was used to divide the room.
• water was not connected to the house.
• every morning Kay’s first job was go outside to pump water from the well into a large jug for use during the day.
• washing up was done in a dish on the table.
• there was no ice box, only a meat safe.
• cooking was done on a primus stove.
• the baker, Mr. Kingman, delivered the bread to the back fence.
• the milkman, Jimmy Martin left the milk in a jug on the side step.
• rats were a continual problem.

The family lived in this room for over twelve months and then moved into one of the four new Housing Commission homes that had just been completed in Wood Street. Gordon recalled asking the agent if they could have the first house on the hill as it was better for starting the bus on the cold frosty mornings, it made the rolling kick start a lot easier. The family recalled the thundering hooves of the horses and the dust raised as they passed their side fence on their way from the yards at the rail station to the knackery at Rouse Hill.

The bus service was sold to Doug Barnes who took over in June 1951. Doug also bought the adjacent house and built his garage and service station at the front. Doug increased the bus services and began running special services to Harold Park and Londonderry trotting meetings, and to picnics held at Mitchell Park and Bungool, which is now known as the Riverside Oaks Golf Course. Also popular were the Riverstone Football club’s away games held on a Sunday afternoon, sometimes they used
all three buses.

Doug extended the Marsden Park run by deleting Vine Street and Fermoy Street. from the route and continued along the Richmond Road down to Townsend Road, Meadow Road, Durham Road and Carnarvon Road to Garfield Road.

The 12 o’clock bus service to Marsden Park was used to carry the mail to their Post Office and it became a ‘service’ in every sense of the word. Many residents along Garfield Road would wait in front of their homes to collect their mail direct from the driver, and Tom Aisbett the headmaster at Marsden Park school would be out in front of the school, or have one of his students waiting to accept delivery.

The remainder of the mail was delivered to the Marsden Park general store which was a Post Office agency and B. P. garage. The local residents collected their mail from pigeon boxes inside the store.

After picking up the mail to be posted the bus would continue on along the Richmond Road to Clydesdale, drop their mail into their RMB and continue on to the Berkshire Park store and Post Office. Mail to be posted was picked up and the bus, as it returned, would drop mail into the RMBs for Ted Jones and Echo Vale dairies. Mail was also delivered to the houses along Garfield Road on the return trip; Ron Shields recalled it was customary to drive the bus right up to the back door of the Delarue’s house to deliver their mail.

The bus returned to Riverstone, delivered the mail bags to the Post Office, and, after the driver finished his lunch, it was time to do the school run.

Ron also recalled the 1956 flood when the Marsden Park residents had been isolated for several days and were running short on supplies. To enable a bus to get through the floodwaters, Doug Barnes extended the exhaust pipe of the Reo bus to prevent it stalling. After the bread and other necessities had been stacked on the seats and safely delivered, several residents decided to return with Doug into Riverstone to complete their shopping. Later that day, and with their shopping completed, Doug returned them to their homes. Ron Shields has seen a photo of this bus ploughing through the floodwaters, he believed it had been taken by Angus Mortlock. (The Historical Society would like a copy of this photo, so if any reader can help, please contact us.)

When Doug Barnes sold out in 1958 and moved to Melbourne to take over the Sunshine Bus Service he took the 1949 Bedford with him. He sold the garage business and house to Ken Spear and the Bus Service was bought by Laurie Bower. The buses used by Laurie included a 26 seat Oldsmobile bought from Gospers of Windsor, a 1942 Maple Leaf and a Ford bus, from the Shell Oil Co., that had been used to transport their workers from Clyde station to the Refinery.

Drivers for Laurie Bower included Jimmy Heaton, Archie Beasley, Bert Smithers and Ron Shields. Ron also recalls acting as the conductor and collecting the three shilling return fare on the bus to the Richmond dances and pictures on Saturday and Thursday nights. These buses proved very popular with the younger residents of Riverstone and it was often a case of standing room only

John Cole took control of the Riverstone Bus Service in 1960.

Compiled by Clarrie Neal from information and photos provided by Gordon Burn and Ron Shields.

by Clarrie Neal

Ray Brookes is an identity of Riverstone who during his life has been a model builder, a master craftsman on the restoration of historic homes, a restorer of vintage cars, a part time writer/photographer, and has been on five expeditions to Antarctica where he spent three years working.

He was born in 1933, one of seven children born to Bill and Lindia Brookes and spent all his childhood days in the family home at 16 Hunter Street Riverstone. He attended Riverstone Public School during the war years, 1939 to 1945 and remembers the air raid trenches being dug and our practice drills. He recalled the headmaster Joe Millerd using his map of the world to explain to the children the progress of the war. Ray used to run home every day to get his lunch and then would run all the way back to school to get there just before the bell rang.

He has vivid memories of the day as a five year old he was sent to neighbour Norm Brown to get some eggs. As he entered the yard he was attacked by their blue cattle dog that was normally kept on a chain anchored to a log. This day the anchor broke free and the dog savaged Ray with bites all over his body and limbs. Ray only escaped by crawling under the barbed wire fence and by hooking the anchor at the end of the chain around the barbed wire and eventually breaking free. Norm had the dog put down later that day.

Ray loved to experiment and one of his favourites was to get the dry ice from Mulford’s school tuckshop and put it in the ink wells, watching the blue coloured bubbles and vapour it produced. These experiments led to his nickname of “professor”, given to him by his mate Charlie Weaver.

He remembers the day he was walking home from Charlie’s place when a Wirraway from the Schofields base crash landed in the meatworks’ paddocks just behind the Egg Pulp, the pilot surviving. He also recalled the day (28 April 1939) the Avro Anson crashed at Eastern Creek near Grange Avenue killing all four crew.

Sometimes Ray would clean out the picture theatre for Charles Murrell. He remembered the day when Charles was locking up and he dropped the key between the step and the wall and it finished up under the floor. Charles had Ray crawl under the floor up to the step to retrieve the key and kept asking Ray had he found it. Although Ray had found it he said no, because also under that step were a lot of coins that other patrons had lost and Ray was busy filling his pockets first.

Ray remembers the first day Lettie Williams attended Riverstone School and she was placed at the same desk with him. He recalled telling his mother that a new sun-tanned girl from Broken Hill had started at school. Lettie recalled going home and telling her mother that she was sitting alongside a nice quiet blue eyed boy but he did not smile. Perhaps it was because he had a few teeth missing at the front.

Little did they realise that in 1955 they would eventually marry and raise their four daughters in Riverstone. Ray recalled that their wedding reception was held in the Masonic Hall, now the museum. Lettie recalled the first day she arrived in Riverstone, the Vineyard bush was on fire and with the smoke and flames she thought she was in hell. She was also amazed to find that none of the boys wore shoes to school. Ray’s secondary schooling was two years at Richmond Rural School, he left when he was aged 15 and did not attempt the Intermediate Certificate. 

As a young lad Ray often used to go rabbit trapping and camping with Charlie Weaver, Neville Stockwell and myself (Clarrie Neal). After loading up our pushbikes with the gear we would ride out to Rouse Hill and camp in the bush near Wally Brown’s place. Ray decided there was too much gear for the pushbike so he used to walk out to Rouse Hill pushing a wheelbarrow loaded with traps etc.

His first job was in the tin-shop at the meat works where he worked for 12 months. After being refused an apprenticeship in carpentry he left and commenced work as an Indentured Apprentice Carpenter with local builder Harold Boulton. Although he was an apprentice carpenter he was required to lay bricks, apply cement render, plumbing etc.

He attended Granville Technical College and in 1953 won their top apprentice award. In 1954 he was called up to do his Army National Service Training with school mate Norm Jennings, which was followed by two years part time service in the CMF. While in the Army, Ray was a member of the guard of honour at Government House when Queen Elizabeth was in Australia in 1954

He completed his apprenticeship in 1955 and got a job with local developer Bill McNamara, working on big projects such as shopping centres, Richmond aerodrome, Government Institutions, churches, etc. Ray commenced work with the Department of Public Works in 1980 working on the restoration of historic buildings. Initially he worked as a member of a team but in later years much of this specialist work he did alone.

It was in 1980 that he first linked up with Rouse Hill House but for the last four years prior to his retirement in 1993 he was employed there by the Historic Houses Trust. He performed all types of restoration work and he often had to study a lot on the materials being used and the methods of preservation. Some of the work he did at Rouse Hill House included:

• the summer house was on the verge of collapsing and had to be pulled down and restored.
• the slaughter house had toppled over and had to be stood up and the roof replaced.
• the stables had to have flooring and roof replaced, doors renewed, and stable divisions restored.

Ray said it was quite an experience working on the stables because at lunch time a large blue tongue lizard would often appear from under the floor for a hand-out. The hand-out was usually an egg that Ray collected from the fowl shed. On hot days a large red-bellied black snake would also appear, though he was not fed.

At the Rouse Hill House opening day ceremony held in April 1999, Ray Brookes was publicly thanked by the President of the Historic Houses Trust and by Bob Carr, the Premier of NSW, for his efforts with the restoration of this property.

It was in 1971 that Ray first made out an application to work as a carpenter in Antarctica. He thought not having his Intermediate Certificate would hinder his chances but hoped that the Indentured Apprentice and his Trades Certificates would overcome this problem. He was also very aware that most other applicants would have their University Degrees.

He was interviewed in September and at this interview he realised this was going to be something special when he offered his credentials to the committee and they said “we already have all that information”. Ray was amazed to find that they even had his records from Riverstone Public School.

A week later he received a letter advising he was on a short list and that he was required to undergo a series of tests and courses in relation to his health and physical fitness. He also had to do an Intensive Psychological Test of five hours alone in a room with no windows.

He was successful and advised that after initial training courses he would commence work with the Australian National Antarctic Research Expedition (ANARE) at the Davis base at the end of 1971.

The initial training courses included an explosives course at Bendigo, a survival course at Falls Creek, an intensive First Aid course, along with medical procedures required during emergencies.

Ray made five trips to Antarctica with ANARE –

1. In late 1971 to early 1973 at Davis (wintered over).
2. In late 1973 to early 1975 at Davis (wintered over).
3. In 1976 at Macquarie Island where he worked on the powerhouse during the summer.
4. & 5. Were made in the summer of 1977 -78 along with the French Expedition to Commonwealth Bay where he worked on the historical Mawson’s Hut.

It was on his first trip working at Davis in 1972 that Ray had two interesting experiences. The first one was with a model glider, with a six ft wingspan, that he built from oregon off cuts and made the casing from surgical paper tissues, about the same thickness as toilet paper. There was much discussion at the base as to whether it would fly or not, and many were prepared to gamble their week’s rations of beer on the result. It had to fly for one minute.

The big day was 3 June 1972. The glider was raised on a string, just as one would fly a kite, to a height of 150 feet and released. At its first attempt it flew for 2 minutes 10 seconds. Ray collected on all the bets but being a good teetotaller he returned the beer rations to some much wiser punters later that evening. The glider’s best effort that summer was to fly for more than four minutes and travel over 1000 metres. The editor of their newsletter later wrote “Ray is a real craftsman, whatever he does, he does it well”.

The second event is about a large Husky dog, known as Cactus, that sometimes Ray would take for a walk, and, at other times Cactus, would take Ray for a walk. An item in the Davis Newsletter for April 1972 read: “The month started on a sad note, our dog Cactus disappeared from the station and never returned, but we are ever hopeful.”

The July Newsletter read “The appearance of the sun on the 8th July was much appreciated by all. Better than this was the interception of our deaf Husky dog ‘Cactus’ who had been missing for 60 days. Des called out “Ray, quick look”. Quote Ray “a bloody dog——-Cactus”. He was retrieved soon after, carried home by our dog lovers and cleaned up. While missing, constant attention had been given to searching for Cactus by all. Traces of the dog’s survival had been noted about three miles southwest where old decrepit seal carcases, which had been there for years, were chewed up
into an assortment of little pieces.”

This poem was written by Ray and appeared in the Davis Newsletter for 1972.

Cactus

Young Husky dog from Davis here,
He’s been with us just over a year,
Come from Mawson, he wasn’t sold,
So brave and strong, deaf I’m told.

He wasn’t bad to handle when he was just a pup,
But now this Husky dogs’ so big he tangles me all up,
I tried to get him off the chain,
With wind so short I felt the strain.

The chains undone with no remorse,
The dog was swift, I felt the force,
On ice and snow I plundered forth,
Southeast by East, I ended North.

Oh God this dog’s a giant, he dragged me down the hill,
With battered skin and swollen hands, he made me feel quite ill,
My strides were long, this dog’s so strong he sent me almost soaring,
My trousers split, I yelled “Shit”, so now I am a’roaring.

Gillespie stood with hands on side, with grin from ear to ear,
This bloke Brookes is sure underpaid for work he’s done this year,
I’ll send a note to the Director, to see what can be done,
On second thoughts I’d better not, they might just send a gun.

Ray Brookes

Ray recalled this incident at Davis. A decision was made to build huts out on the ice fields, to allow better access for the research workers to their sites. Ray built the first of these huts at Long Fjord, some 15 km out from Davis, and it has been named appropriately enough “Brookes’ Hut”.

Ray modified a jeep that was used to tow the materials on a sled from the base to the site, and as a safety measure attached 8 metre beams of oregon under the chassis. He also cut an escape hatch in the roof just in case the jeep did go through the ice. The jeep was a success and was able to get all the materials to the site, this allowing Ray to ride his skidoo out to the site each day.

One day when Ray and his partner were building the hut they received an urgent message to return to base immediately as the ice was melting. They made good time on their skidoos until a kilometre from the base where they paused and saw just how serious the situation was. They had no choice other than to make a run for it across the ice. They checked their skidoos then gunned them flat out across the ice cheered on by their mates on shore waving and shouting encouragement. Ray said they were lucky as they knew the field ice was breaking up behind them. It was a happy and relieved
group of expeditioners at the base that evening.

It was on these trips that Ray has been able to write articles on some of his experiences and take excellent photos that have appeared in magazines and books. The articles on Brookes Hut and Mawson’s Hut have featured in detail in Tim Bowden’s book on Antarctica “The Silence is Calling”.

Mawson’s Hut.

This hut was built in 1912 at Commonwealth Bay by Mawson and his Australian Antarctica Expedition. Since the 1970s there has been much debate as to whether the hut should be restored and left on site or dismantled and returned to Australia and re-erected as a museum.

Ray was one of four members of a group that were chosen by ANARE to visit the hut and report on the options available. He was required to build a hut where the team was to stay while doing their assessment and restoration work. He named the hut “Granholm Hut” after the Captain of the supply ship Thala Dan and a plaque was carved with the name and year 1978 on it.

They arrived in January 1978 to find the hatch on the roof of the hut had long disappeared and that some of the rooms had become solid blocks of ice. The wind had eroded the outer surfaces of timber and left the nails exposed, and that particles of snow had penetrated the tongue and groove boards and left gaps.

Much of the larger equipment was missing, however there were many items remaining on the shelves. As they cleared the ice out of the rooms they were surprised to find some of the rooms had little ice in them.

Ray said whenever the weather permitted he was up on the roof trying to restore it in the best possible manner. Ray believed the best option to preserve the hut was to support a false timber roof over the existing structure. Ray would have liked to return and finish the job but this was not to be.

Ray has always spent a lot of his spare time with his other two loves, model making and restoring vintage cars. He has built numerous model planes and also built, from scrap timber, a canoe that can be converted to a trimaran with a sail. Over the years he has had four vintage cars, including a vintage racing car that he built/restored and competed in Hill Climbs and Rallies at Amaroo Park.

He has had two Vauxhalls, one being a Luton Vauxhall that was totally restored, the fourth car was a baby Austin 7.

Ray has always been a firm believer in physical fitness and when possible still rides his bike 40 kilometres every morning. In the 1980s he joined the Blacktown Cycle Club for veteran riders and participated in their races. However injuries sustained in a bad race fall one day ended his racing days. The bike he currently rides now has 54,000 km on the speedo.

Compiled by Clarrie Neal from an interview with Ray Brookes in January 2000.