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"Impressions of Katandra" by Don Hunt (written c 2005)

 The early 1950' s were probably the end of an era for Katandra and other similar rural communities. This was before the introduction of TV, rock-and-roll, and modem communication facilities. Queen Elizabeth 11 had ascended to the throne, just three months before I arrived at Katandra, and we were still having trouble remembering to sing "God Save The Queen". Migration had had little impact in country areas at that time.  

The school had no electricity, no telephone, and no septic sewerage in my time. We had plenty of water, thanks to a windmill tank connected to the main channel one hundred metres to the west. We did have a 6-volt vibrator radio which we used to listen to the ABC school broadcasts, but there were no other audio-visual aids, and no way of duplicating material; so, the blackboard was a very important aid. We still used ink and steel nibs; ball-points were expensive and uncommon.  

The children were a delightful group, most of them with excellent attitudes to learning. Nearly all of them rode their bikes to school, even little Diana Telford, who probably lived closer to Pine Lodge than to Katandra. The enrolment increased quite a deal, rising from about 12 in 1952 to a maximum of 26 at one time, distributed among eight grades (Prep. - Grade 7). Many of the children were related; there were two families of Teague connected to the Jones and Wilkie families, and two Wallden families. It took some time for me to work out the relationships, and even I knew that I had to watch what I said. We were still working from the 1934 Course of Study, so the work was quite formal compared with today's methods and there was a lot of emphasis on rote learning, drill and practice. There was no formal monitorial system, but the older children were always happy to help with the younger ones.  

Running a rural school is a complex task. I readily admit to being hopeless at school organisation at first, and it was not until I realised the importance of adequate preparation that I was able to make a fist of it. I made it a rule never to leave the school until the next day's work was fully prepared, and that made a big difference to the smooth running of the school. Looking back, I think the standards I set were unnecessarily high, and I was harder on the children (and myself) than I needed to be, possibly because I took life a little too seriously and I lacked self-confidence. A few years ago I met Ray Meadows, my successor, at the funeral of Mil Jeffers. He told me that he was constantly being told what a good teacher Don Hunt was. Funnily enough, when I made return visits, I was often told what a great teacher Ray Meadows was.  

We did enjoy informal times. We had uproarious sessions of improvised blackboard reading which involved every child in the school. Whenever the temperature in the school reached 100F we knocked off early to have a very lively swim in the leech-infested channel. Fortunately we did not have any problems, because we did not concern ourselves with little details like getting parental permission. I was very relieved when formal swimming lessons commenced in Shep. We also played a game we had made up - a strange combination of rounders, softball and cricket, using the pepper trees as bases.  

Around 1954 we began an inter-school athletic sports competition, with a rather complicated proportional handicap scoring system, to make it fair for the small schools. In the days before calculators, this was a pretty cumbersome method, slow to calculate, and difficult to understand. The important thing was that the children did get to see others from neighbouring schools. There was a tentative proposal to close our school and bus the children to Katandra West, but the parents held a meeting and decided to keep the old school open.  

The school building was a standard Education Department design, and it was fairly cramped at times. In 1954 some weatherboards and the floor were replaced, the platform was removed, new blackboards were installed, the whole building was painted inside and out, and the chimney was removed to be replaced by a slow combustion heater with a flue. The last was a big mistake; the fire smoked for ever more, or at least until the flue was extended above the roof-line. The school was rarely used at night, except for the occasional School Committee meeting, and fundraising card nights. The latter were made up of progressive euchre games during the "formal" part of the night followed by 500 for the fair dinkum players.  

We had a garden, the remains of an ANA award-winning effort. I'm afraid I was no gardener in those days, and the garden suffered. Every week we had a full Monday morning ceremony around the flag-pole, the central feature of the garden. We also had the remains of a World War 1 machine-gun, minus its tripod, which formed the basis of some of the boys' imaginative games. Not quite politically correct.  

The school was on an "island" block, with roads on all sides. To the west, at the side of the main channel, was the post office, occupied by the LeLievre family, (Dick, Edna and children, Norma and Ronald), and Ruth Tate and Sam Abrahams. I was never sure who the official postmaster/mistress was; I assumed it was Ruth. Our official address was "Katandra via Cosgrove", and three afternoons a week (Monday, Wednesday, Friday) Dick would set off in his Commer truck to pick up the mail from Cosgrove. It would probably have made more sense to have had the daily delivery from Katandra West, but the locals were very loyal to their own post office. There was often quite a gathering there on the mail afternoons with opportunities to exchange local news and gossip. The LeLievres shared a dairy block at Katandra North with Dick's father, and Dick spent most of the time there. Edna was a very good friend to the school, and she worked very hard for improvements. Ruth Tate was a descendant of Katandra's pioneers. As well as running the post office, she worked on their small poultry farm. Although she was in her fifties, she was very keen on sport, playing tennis throughout the summer. (The Katandra courts of graded dirt were just to the north of the post office, beside the channel bank) She was a very keen (dare I say, fanatical) follower of Katandra Football Club, and I doubt if she missed a match. Her great talent was playing the piano. With Jimmy Inglis, who acted as MC, she travelled all over the Goulbourn Valley and beyond, to play at dances and balls. She could play anything by ear, and, of course, she was absolutely invaluable when preparing for the school's annual concerts. She was known as "Aunty Ruth" to all the children.  

To the north of the school was a house, first occupied by Mrs Cato, and later by the Matthews family (Len, Gloria, and two daughters, Joy and Lorraine.) To the east was a paddock owned by one of Katandra's large land-owners, Garnet ("Garney") Ford. I remember seeing his youngest son, Max, aged about sixteen, driving round the paddock in a very old baby Citroen. To the south was the farm of Dave Ford, Garney's first-born son, who lived there with wife, Jean, and son, Russell.  

An interesting feature of the school was that the children came from both sides of the channel: the "wet" irrigated side divided mainly into 60-acre dairy blocks, and the "dry" undulating side cut into 640-acre (square-mile) blocks used for grain and sheep. (These farms were not connected to the electricity grid). The children reflected the attitudes and customs of their parents, the dairy farmers tied to the daily routines of milking, feeding and watering, contrasting with the seasonal activities of the dry farmers. They were prosperous times for both kinds of farming, with good prices for grain, meat, wool and cream. (Australian export butter was subsidised to the point that it was cheaper in London than it was in Melbourne). Dairy farms still separated their cream from milk, although debates about whole milk production were beginning.

Wheat and other grain crops were gathered in bags (three bushels), but there was talk of bulk grain collection. I spent a day "sewing bags". I stood on the tray of a truck while the header went round the paddock. When the header returned to the truck we loaded wheat into the bags until the header was empty, and it went off for another round or two. I sewed the bags (180 pounds) and dragged them to the front of the tray. By the time I had finished, the header was back with the next load, and that went on all day with no shelter from the blazing sun. Wheat Yields were measured in "bags per acre"; a six-bag crop was considered to be slightly above average. The wheat was taken to the silos at Cosgrove on the wheat railway line.  

Some farms had only begun to be mechanised since the Second World War. I recall seeing Rod Wilkie working up a paddock with an eight-horse team. Quite a sight. (I wish I had had a camera that day). I saw Harry Powles grading an irrigation paddock with a horse and scoop. Most dairy farmers had grey Ferguson tractors; many of the children drove them, while their parents spread hay from trailers. Most of the dry farmers worked independently, and had their own equipment: tractors, headers, ploughs, harrows, combines, trucks, etc; some farms had very well-equipped workshops in which almost anything could be made. Many farmers used single cylinder two-stroke diesel tractors, such as Field Marshal~ and Lanz Bulldog - crude machines, but very economical. They vibrated terribly, and I recall George Teague coming in absolutely exhausted after a day's ploughing. Some farms had 12 volt lighting systems, relying on wind and/or petrol generators.  

Communication was not easy. In some areas the telephone lines were connected with other users ("party lines"). The telephone was mounted in a wooden box on the wall with a small handle on the side, which was wound to contact the exchange or other party-line users. Each user had their own ring code, actually a Morse Code letter. One became expert at recognising one's own ring code, and remembering to make calls before the manually-operated exchanges closed down for the night. Of course, there were stories of people listening in on others' conversations, but I had no personal experience of that.  

Most families lived in old houses which had been modified and extended to suit family requirements. Some houses were being renovated, and a few new ones were being constructed, e.g. Ron Ford's solid brick house opposite his father's sprawling old weatherboard. There were also moves to build houses at Katandra West when people retired from their farms: the beginning of a real township. Most houses retained their wood-fired stoves, because the women preferred to cook on them.  

Most families had regular shopping days in Shepparton, usually Thursdays, and they followed a regular routine. The everyday shopping was done in the mornings, followed by lunch taken at one of two Greek cafes in Fryers Street. In the afternoons, the men retired to the pub, while the women shopped for clothing and little luxuries. My favourite shops were Every's bookshop (where the photos were processed), and the Bon Accord, a magnificent delicatessen, famous all over the Valley.  

The family cars often did only one long trip per week and on those long straight flat roads they lasted a long time. There were still a few pre-war cars around, dating back to the 1920's and 1930's. (Garney Ford drove a magnificent 1936 Studebaker.) Holdens were the preferred cars but there was a long waiting list for them. Some families used large American cars (Chevrolet, Dodge, Ford Custom), but many had to settle for English cars (Austin, Morris, Wolseley, Vauxhall, Humber Hawk and Snipe, Standard Vanguard, Singer, Ford Consul and Zephyr, and even a Jowett Javelin), and a few European cars (Peugeot 203, Simca, Skoda, Fiat). Some of these vehicles were quite unsuitable for country work and did not last long at all. Of course, there were no four-wheel-drives, no station wagons, and precious few utilities. Japanese cars were unheard of, as were luxuries like heating, air-conditioning, and automatic gearboxes.  

Katandra West (or simply, "The West") was the local centre for shopping, sport and entertainment. I think that the Catholic church was built during this period. Jim Cummins (or Cummings) ran the general store. His petrol bowser was hand operated, pumping petrol up to a measured glass container at the top. Petrol had to be bought to the nearest gallon or half-gallon, and drivers had to make sure there was enough capacity in the tank to accommodate what they bought. It cost somewhere between three and four shillings per gallon, i.e. 8c or 9c per litre. Bert Godden established his mechanical repair business, and made money fixing cars and farm machinery. The hall was used for all kinds of functions. Dances were held very often, with cards for older people in the supper room, and balls were regular events.  

Film nights were also held occasionally, as were concerts, e.g. Scotch Night, celebrated with pipes, kilts, highland dancing, and even a haggis. Concert items tended to be repeated from year to year, possibly because of the relatively small pool of local talent. For example, an elderly gentleman recited "The Man From Snowy River" every year, but he always got a good reception, because he did it beautifully. Frank Cronk produced some interesting sounds from his musical saw. Meetings were held there by local organisations: C.W.A. (Country Women's Association), Young Farmers, Apex, and various sporting clubs.  

Sport played a big part in most people's lives. Katandra Football Club played in the Benalla- Tungamah League at that time, and did very well. The Hickeys, Rowans (Snowy and Darky), Opies (Mervyn and Lloyd), Hudson, and Powles (Harry and Gordon) were highly regarded players; I think Dick LeLievre was captain for a while. Harry Brittain became captain-coach around 1954; he was a Darrell Baldock clone, both in appearance and playing style. Spectators usually 'watched from their cars, and they became very involved in tile games. There was an incident at an away game at Undera, which could have been quite serious, when some Undera players and supporters decided they were not getting a fair go from the umpire, and they tried to prevent the umpire and his wife from leaving the ground after the game. Things were looking quite ugly until wiser heads prevailed.  

The girls had an associated netball (called basketball then) competition, and just about everybody played tennis. There was an annual tennis carnival always dominated by the O'Kane brothers, who made country tennis a nice little earner. Katandra fielded two cricket teams. Lawn bowls were introduced as a popular night-time activity, although the "green" was actually black, with the original surface consisting of rolled, compacted ground rubber particles.  

The rifle club had its range (300, 500 and 600 yards) on land owned by Sam Abrahams on the Cosgrove road. Again, it was very successful at that time, running two teams, doing well in local competitions and prize meetings. When they shot at home, the boys usually stayed on for a sing-along (accompanied by Don Creighton's piano accordion), and a sip or three of port. Their voices could be heard half a mile away. When Sam sold the land to Des Della- Vedova, there were concerns about the club's future, but so far as I am aware the shooting continued there. Rifle shooting was my winter interest. I counted myself lucky to hit the target at first, but some of the older shooters took me in hand and patiently coached me to a reasonable standard. Because of my poor eyesight I needed a special sight with a lens matching my glasses; unfortunately, I had to get very close to the cross-bar to focus, and it recoiled against my nose. I presented to school every Monday with a skinned and bloody nose.  

Duck opening was a big event for the local gun shooters, and crowds lined the edges of the swamp at Marungi - a terrifying experience for a novice shooter. There were also organised hare shoots which raised money for local purposes. Spot-lighting for foxes was popular with some of the boys.  

The round-Australia Redex trials were big events in those years. Some of the local lads fancied themselves as rally drivers, and in winter they would look for a really muddy, really rough stretch of dis-used unmade road to test themselves; there were quite a few of these roads bordering the 640-acre blocks. The boys would time themselves along the measured mile to find a winner, and although most of the cars were totally unsuited to the task, many drivers showed a lot of skill.  

The local agricultural shows attracted large crowds. The school had an official holiday for the Shepparton Show, a big event which extended over a couple of days. Some of the old-time events were still being run, e.g. sheaf-tossing. It took a big strong man to toss a sheaf properly. One of our Katandra identities, Dinny Lane, father of Leslie and Brian had some success at this event We were not supposed to have a holiday for the local Dookie Show, and the school was not closed, but there would have been very few children present on the day. Thinking of shows reminds me that the Burgman family was having great success with cattle breeding, and won many awards. (Katandra Silvermine comes to mind).  

There were no major disasters during this period. Floods were fairly common occurrences but they were relatively gentle affairs, when rivers, creeks and drains filled and overflowed across the almost level plains. They usually did little damage and caused only temporary inconvenience. Drivers were adept at guiding their cars by the road-side fence posts. As long as they drove slowly they could get almost anywhere. I do remember being caught on a hump-backed bridge at night, trying to dry out the engine, accompanied by all the wild-life for miles around, seeking some dry footing. There was a more damaging flood in February 1955 when I did not see the road surface from Katandra to Kialla on the Melbourne side of Shepparton. Other natural disasters such as fires and windstorms were quite rare, although hailstones at the wrong times did a lot of damage to crops. We did have a serious locust plague in the '53-'54 summer. There were times when the sky seemed black with them, and cars were plastered with their remains.  

We did have some deaths in the district. The funerals were large affairs, with everybody, absolutely everybody, attending the graveside services. One of the local councillors passed away during a very hot summer period as soon as the funeral service was over, the men took off their dark suit coats and filled in the grave - something I had never seen before and which left a lasting impression. Some families had their own personal tragedies but I do not feel qualified to write about them. 

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