6. POST-WAR YEARS: NEW POSSIBILITIES

1946 —1951

We met Norman at the Adelaide railway station. He was dressed in his tropical summer-weight uniform with the cap and epaulettes of a Squadron Leader, having risen from the rank of corporal through the war. He was leaner than in my earlier memories and his skin yellowed from the anti-malarial tablets. He and Olive hugged and kissed on the platform. I was unused to seeing such open displays of affection from my parents and was confused and slightly embarrassed. Bob and I trailed up the platform behind them, their arms about each other, oblivious to us.[1]

            A time of planting and flowering began. With pick and shovel, Dad and Bob dug up the backyard and formed rows of flower beds that were seeded, watered and, with Olive's care, burst into a riot of colours. The back lobby of our Byron Road house became Olive's workroom and soon the orders for flowers for weddings and funerals started to roll in. Partington's Funeral Parlour was on the corner of our street and I was regularly sent to deliver wreaths for the funerals. Sometimes I would watch as the funeral director, in black coat and top hat, led the funeral procession off down the road, stopping the traffic. When the procession had reached its full extension, Mr Partington would join the hearse and the sombre procession would proceed at a stately pace to the cemetery.

            In late winter, the almond trees, grown now to significant size would burst into blossom and, in the Spring the almonds would be harvested, our whole family engaged in knocking the almonds, still in their drying husks, onto sheets spread on the ground. The shucking of the husks and the cracking of the shells was also a family affair, and the almonds provided additional income.

            We acquired our first car, a 1928 Wolseley Tourer in which we drove to Port Augusta where Olive's sister lived — Roy, her husband was Postmaster — and later to Port Pirie, when Alice and Roy moved there. We visited Olive's father at Alberton, now remarried and with a son, Jack, of Bob's age. In July 1947, Olive's father died. Fred was a cheerful man and I know Olive loved him dearly.

There were parties! Rationing was eased within a year of the end of the war, so butter, eggs, flour and sugar, in scarce supply throughout my early childhood, began to be available. For the first time I began to sample the delights of meringues, sponges, decorated biscuits, cream cakes and brandy snaps. Arnie performed his magic tricks and introduced games of his own invention. There was singing around the pianola and I was allowed to pedal the bellows as family and friends sang the hit songs of the day.

            And there were dances! The family could produce its own band; Dad's brother Roy on trumpet or drums, his wife Vi on piano and my cousin Jeff on clarinet or saxophone. Olive and Norman would hire a hall and invite family and friends to a dance. The women would provide the supper, and Dad would be MC. There was the Palais Royal to go to with its spinning glitter ball and its big band beating out the tunes of the pre-war swing era—Woody Herman's Golden Wedding, Glen Miller's American Patrol, Bob Crosby's March of the Bobcats, Artie Shaw's Begin the Beguine and Benny Goodman's Stompin' at the Savoy.

And there was sport! By this time, Bob was making his mark both as a baseballer and cricketer. He had won the Pomeroy Cup for the best schoolboy baseballer, had made his debut in senior grade baseball at 16 and at cricket a year later. He was selected to represent South Australia in baseball in 1949, 1950 and 1951, and was named in the All—Australian team in 1950. Norman had become official scorer for the baseball teams, so Olive was there at every match, properly attired as was the custom of the time in coat, hat, and gloves.

 

Olive and Norman at the Palais Royal, Adelaide, 1950

            The flowerbeds in the backyard gave way to a tennis court and Olive went to work at a florist shop in the Central Market. Chrissie was by now a permanent fixture, and Norman's father Steve came to live with us, taking over the garage converted to a bedsit.

In 1950, I started high school. What a difference in Olive's life between this and the time Bob had started high school in 1943. Seven years earlier, Olive was bringing up her children with little support from Norman who, before the year was out, would be in New Guinea. The Japanese threat was very real, food and clothing were rationed, news of the War dominated the news, and Olive was thin, anxious and fearful for what the future would bring. Seven years later, the world was full of possibilities. Her husband was home, Bob was through the turbulence of adolescence, my asthma was now well controlled, a new house was under way, and she was developing her own career as a florist. Then, fate intervened in a quite different way.

             

Events that shape our lives often occur outside our control. The death of her mother was a turning point in Olive's life. The incompetence of banks, businesses and governments created economic havoc across the world in 1929 and plunged the world into Depression. A German dictator's mad ambition took her husband away for a protracted period in the 40s and gave her some of the most anxious periods of her life. In 1950, a chance visit to Adelaide from a Californian blonde moved first Bob's and then all of our lives into new and unplanned directions.

            Ron Sharpe, recognised as one of Australia's best baseballers and coach of the Goodwood team for whom Bob played, invited his brother, who lived in California, to visit. His daughter, Bebe, accompanied him. Bob was smitten and, when Bebe returned to the United States, mooned about, lovesick and lovelorn. I remember Olive coming into our bedroom the day after Bebe's departure when we were both still in bed and gently touching Bob on the head. 'Feeling a bit blue?' she inquired tenderly. Bob's reply was inaudible. She sat on the side of his bed and spoke softly to him. I was not yet 13 and had only a vague idea of what the exchange was about, but I remember the quiet tenderness and understanding with which our mother addressed her son's heartache.

            In 1951, we moved into our new house at Belair Road, West Mitcham built on the rise as the Adelaide plains lift into the low hills of the Mt Lofty Ranges. Both Chrissie and Steve ("Gramp") came to live with us. The block was large and sloped away from the house. With typical energy and focus, Norman and Olive began to plant trees and shrubs and flower beds. I can see her on a hot January day, wearing a blue-patterned summer dress with a white bodice, watering each plant by hand. Once again, plants grew and flowered for her.

             In the late 1940s, John Ceruto, an American ex-serviceman, came to Adelaide with his family to live. Norman was unimpressed with the 'fast-talking Yank'[2], but he fired Bob's imagination to try his luck with Major League Baseball in the US. Still carrying a torch for Bebe Sharpe, Bob was easily persuaded to venture into new territory and so, on October 21^st, 1951, just a day after his 21^st birthday, Bob sailed from Port Adelaide for the United states.[3]  Our family unit was reduced to Mum, Dad, Chrissie, Gramp and me.

 

7. THE FIFTIES

'HAPPY THAT WE ARE WHAT WE ARE'

 

In 1955, Olive turned 50 and some of the events that had accompanied her birth began to have a major impact on the world. Fifty years before, the Wright brothers' plane had flown 40 km. By the end of the fifties, international flights had become a reality. The Russian revolutions of 1905 and 1917 now began to change world politics. Emboldened by the success of the Communist revolution in China, Communist forces from North Korea invaded South Korea, and the United states declared war on North Korea. In 1950, Russia became a nuclear power and the 'arms race' and the 'space race' that were to dominate political realities for over 30 years had begun. Vladimir Petrov, a Russian diplomat at the Canberra embassy, defected, fuelling concerns about Russian spies, and the government of Australia attempted to outlaw the Communist party, but was rebuffed by the voters. Ho Chi Minh became president of the independent republic of North Vietnam. In 1957, we all stood out in the street on a balmy Spring evening to watch Sputnik, the first satellite, streak across our sky. King George the Sixth of England died, and Queen Elizabeth II was crowned. Norgay Tensing and Edmund Hilary became the first to scale Mount Everest.

In Adelaide, nature offered reminders of its power and our relative impotence to control it. In 1953, we awoke to a grinding noise as a rare earthquake shifted the ground beneath our feet and cracked the walls of many houses. In early January 1955, we sweltered in temperature in the mid-40s as bushfires raged across the Adelaide hills. In 1956, the Murray River flooded into South Australia and river towns, like Mannum, where we had had summer holidays, were inundated. Television, which was to shrink the world even more than international plane travel and bring the world into our living rooms, arrived in Adelaide.

The fifties were a time of increasing freedom and contentment for Olive and I recall only one incident of discontent—remarkably the only time of significant public argument between Olive and Norman I ever witnessed. What sparked it I have little idea. It had something to do with a gift Norman had bought Olive and was either insufficiently appreciated, or might have been a peace offering for some earlier disagreement. Olive had said something with an edge in her voice and suddenly, Norman erupted. He shouted at Olive 'I can never get anything bloody well right with you!' and stormed out of the house, slamming the front door forcefully behind him. He started the car and, spraying gravel, backed it rapidly of the carport. Bob, who was still at home, chased him out the door, yelling at him to come back. Norman returned, his face thunderous, and the three of them went into the lounge. Frightened, as I had never heard my parents argue like this, I retreated to my bedroom and went to bed. Later, my mother came into the room and stroked my head. I looked up at her. Her eyes were red from weeping.

            'It's alright, dear,' she told me. 'Dad's just being a bit silly.'

            And that was it. I was not offered any explanation then, or since. For years I tried to imagine one. Norman was making one of periodic attempts to give up smoking. Had he been particularly irritable lately? Olive may have been menopausal. Were there mood changes accompanying this hormonal shift? Had there been tension in the bedroom? Had Bob been giving them problems? This latter seems unlikely, as he had settled into regular work at the ABC[4] and his University failures would have been a thing of the past. Recently, Charmian recalled a conversation with Olive many years later that may give a clue to the matter. One of Norman's endearing traits—and one I hope I have inherited—was his generosity. Olive was more planful and cautious in money matters and held the purse-strings.  Olive complained that Norman had a habit of putting a deposit on some new kitchen appliance, giving to her as a present, and then leaving her to finish making the repayments! Maybe this was one occasion too many and Olive let fly! This explanation is consistent with both Norman and Olive's characters. Whatever the reasons, this was the one and only time I observed acrimonious public dispute between my parents.

 

 

Olive at a family wedding, about 1950[5].

On 21^st October 1951 we stood at the wharf at Port Adelaide as the tugs pushed the 'Orentes' out into the harbour channel, waving to Bob and his cousin Jeff as they left for London and their final destination, the United States. Entering the ego-driven years of adolescence, I was too immersed in my own sense of abandonment to give any thought to my parents' feelings and, as I try to reconstruct the scene, I am again only aware of the lights of the liner retreating into the darkness, the chill of the night air around my ears, and my own struggle to fight back tears, too self-involved to access any awareness of my parents and their concerns.

            After Bob left, things went on as normal. Sport, family gatherings, dances and parties continued. I moved easily into the space formerly occupied by my brother in my parents' attention. At a recent gathering of old baseballers celebrating the beginning of night baseball in Adelaide in 1953, many remembered the barbecues at our house at West Mitcham. There were parties for the Goodwood baseball club (for whom I was now playing), for the Under 17 interstate carnival in Adelaide in 1952[6], and for visitors in the senior interstate carnival. The piano and pianola was always in use, and I was introduced to some of the more risqué songs of the time. The baseball fraternity included butchers, greengrocers, and publicans so food and beer were plentiful. The baseball wives provided an abundance of cakes, sponges and deserts, so a growing boy and his friends found these gatherings a cornucopia of food and fun, and an entry in the world of adulthood. By now, the smiles were back on Olive's face and her laughter, that from that time forward I associate with her, was heard among the hubbub of conversations.

 

In October 1953, Olive and Norman celebrated their 25^th wedding anniversary with friends and family at our home. All Olive's brothers and sisters were there, as well as friends from their Hampton Road days and May Dickson, her favourite aunt.[7] Even Chrissie, not noted for her high spirits, looked as if she was having a good time! As I view the photos, I have a real feeling that Olive and Norman have 'come through'. Whatever the past had dealt them—the Depression, the War, problems of readjustment and possible marriage conflict after the War, or any of Bob's adolescent misdemeanours—these were now safely in the past. Now, in a new house surrounded by family and friends, they felt comfortable and content.

Half a world away, another courtship was flowering and, soon after this celebration, they received a letter announcing the wedding of Bob to Wilma Patricia Burk in Vancouver on 9^th January 1954. Their son and soon-to-be daughter-in-law smiled out from the enclosed photo. In December 1954, with the birth of Laurence Burk Quintrell, Olive and Norman became grandparents. In early 1955, demonstrating my newly acquired drivers' license, I drove us to Parafield Airport to welcome Bob, Trish and Burk to Australia.

 

Olive and Norman, silver wedding anniversary, October 1953

Norman and Olive had arranged accommodation for Bob and Trish — a small apartment little bigger than our current garden flat at Woodburn Ave — and purchased a car for them, a 1928 Essex Supper Six[8]. Bob did not find it easy to get consistent work and, with a growing baby, the flat soon became too small for Trish and Burk, so they moved in with us at Richmond Road, Westbourne Park, a shift we had made soon after Bob and Trish had returned. Trish was increasingly missing home and, with work still uncertain for Bob, the decision was taken to return to Vancouver. With their departure, our family unit returned again to Olive, Norman, Gramp, Chrissie and me.

My parents had continued to take an interest in what I was doing at university and in sport. Norman continued to be official scorer and Olive joined the 'baseball girls', the wives of players, and busied herself in various fundraising activities for the club. I was introduced to live theatre with my parents taking me to musicals such as Oklahoma! and the Black and White Minstrel Show.

The move to Westbourne Park had another, unexpected sequel. Invited by a school friend to attend the nearby Methodist Church, I met Charmian and, on the Easter Bob and Trish returned to Canada, 'got religion'. Olive and Norman showed a degree of caution about my overly enthusiastic embrace of religion. Olive, in her usual diplomatic way, did not openly disapprove of my involvement, but resisted any overtures from me to attend services. However, in their typical hospitable way, my parents welcomed friends from the church into our home and took an ongoing interest in them.

  By the end of 1958, I had graduated in Pharmacy from the University of Adelaide and plans were well underway for Norman, Olive and me to visit Bob, Trish, Burk and (by now) Stacey in Vancouver. However, the relationship between Charmian and me had reached a stage where events would overturn my plans. In January, Charmian became pregnant and I told my parents of my decision to marry and not come with them to Canada. Olive's initial reaction was one of disappointment, but she rapidly put that aside and threw herself into preparations for the wedding. I was again caught up in my own needs and had little thought or feeling for the fact that I had imposed a wedding on them, just a few weeks before their departure for Canada.