100 YEARS AGO THIS WEEK...
Diptheria claims 11 year old child Compiled by Melissa Walsh A PAINFULLY sudden death occurred on Monday morning to a little girl, eleven years of age, the daughter of Mr and Mrs Olding, of Carnegie. It appears that, in company with her younger sister, she was spending a holiday at Flinders and on Saturday morning last complained of a sore throat and not feeling well. She gradually got worse and on Monday morning a motor was procured and a start was made for home. On arriving at Bittern it was discovered that the child was dead.. The remains were then brought on to Frankston, and on Tuesday morning Dr Maxwell held a postmortem examination, and discovered that the cause of death was diphtheria. The remains were interred in the Frankston cemetery on Wednesday afternoon. Much sympathy was expressed for the bereaved parents. *** A MEETING of the Committee of the “ Frankston Mechanics’ Allies Fair” will be held in the hall on Tuesday next, at 3 o’clock, when a full attendance is requested. *** MESSRS Alex Scott and Co will hold their monthly sale at Tanti on Monday next, when they will have a good yarding of general stock to offer to intending buyers. *** THE hon. sec. of the Frankston Branch of the Red Cross Society makes an appeal in our advertising
columns for donations of old linen for the French Red Cross, and notifies that the same will be received at the Mechanics’ Hall, from 10 a.m. on the 6th July. *** A FOOTBALL match will be played this afternoon on the Frankston oval between a Naval Base team and the locals. The Langwarrin Brass Band will play during the afternoon. A collection will be taken up in aid of the Red Cross funds. *** DEPOSITORS in the State Savings Bank are reminded by advertisement that the Inspector (Mr J. Corbet), will be in attendance at the Bank on Wednesday, 5th July, for the annual inspection of pass-books. It is particularly desired that depositors should produce their pass books at this time. *** AT the Somerville meeting on Monday night it was decided that the League forward £8 3s. to the French Red Cross to help assist it in its valuable work. This energetic branch has forwarded now to the various funds over £20 in cash, besides the vast number of articles provided by the ladies and sent on to the Lady Mayoress’s League. *** AFTER 37 years’ service in the Railway Department, Mr Mark Williams retired on the 20th of this month, and intends now to take a well earned rest. Mr Williams was well known on this line having been engine driver between Melbourne and
Frankston since 1903 and earned the respect and trust of his employers and the travelling public. *** THE young student, Sidney J. Doewra, of “Heath Vale” Somerville, has been very successful in his examinations and has gained his certificate for electrical engineering, from “Scotts College” Melbourne, *** GENERAL regret was expressed in Frankston when it was known that Guard Phil O’Grady had been transferred from this station to Mornington. Mr O’Grady has been resident here for the last three and a half years, and during that time he has become a universal favorite, both with his fellow employees and the general public, by his unvarying courtesy and kindness of manner. Guard Walsh, from Maryborough, has been appointed to the vacant position. *** THE following letter of thanks was received by Miss Chrisp, Hon. Sec. Mount Eliza Red Cross Society from Philadelphia N. Robertson, secretary, Australian Branch, British Red Cross Society. At the last meeting of our Central Depot Committee, a report was submitted to them of a series of motor outings provided for the returned N.S.W. and Queensland soldiers from the “Themistocles” while she was in port here. From this, and also from one of the members of the Committee, it was learned that the Frankston and Mt Eliza Red Cross branches had
extended very generous hospitality to the men on the occasion of their visit to this district. The Committee ask me to convey to you and to the ladies of your district who took part in entertaining the large party of men, their cordial thanks. The men very much appreciated your kindness and thoroughly enjoyed their visit to Frankston. *** A MEETING of the “Wattles” Club Committee was held on Friday evening to make arrangements for entertaining returned wounded soldiers on July 8th, and to discuss other Club matters. Being the anniversary of the Club in July it was decided to celebrate the occasion by holding a plain and fancy dress ball on the 12th of that month. It was also decided to donate £3 3s to the Frankston District Memorial Fund, for which a letter of thanks has been received from Mr C. P. Watson, hon. secretary of the Fund. *** LETTERS from the Front. The following letter has been received by the mother of the late Corporal H. J. Schmidt, a former resident of the Tyabb district, who was killed while in action at Gallipoli:— Gallipoli, August 16th, 1915. Mrs W.G. Fish, 70 Woodstock, St, Canning Town, London. Dear Mrs Fish, —You will have heard by this of the sad fate of your son, 1047, Corporal Henry John Schmidt, who was killed in action on August 7th. After reaching a position
by a night advance the battalion took up the point and dug in on the morning of that date. The enemy who were holding a ridge opposite were firing on our men, and Corpl. Schmidt was unfortunately hit by a bullet which passed through his body. He was very cheery and we thought he might pull through, but shortly afterwards he became unconscious, and death ensued very speedily. He was such a bright cheery fellow, and a general favorite and we all miss him very much. To you and to his friends we tender our sincerest sympathy for the sorrow which has befallen you. He died a true soldier’s death and was buried with an officer and another comrade near the place where he fell. In his pocket book or purse I found the sum of 7s 6d and as we have a regimental fund with an account in London. I send you a cheque for this amount, with the request that you will send me a receipt. We are all proud of the part our Australian forces have taken in this campaign, and while we are hoping that it will soon be over, we look for an ending which will be of the greatest help to the Empire for her strength. With sincere sympathy, yours very truly, ANDREW GARRISON, Captain, Chaplain, 14th Battalion, A.I.F. Gallipoli. *** From the pages of the Mornington Standard, 1 July, 1916
THE MEANING OF EXISTENCE... AND OTHER SHORT STORIES
A brief history of my automotive failures By Stuart McCullough IT made no sense at all. To the untrained eye (as my eye most certainly was), it looked like an automatic. But within seconds of easing the rental car into traffic, it became apparent there were gears and that this car was resolutely stuck in first. It was, I feared, going to be a very long week. Until that moment, I’d often thought people who claimed they were struggling to get out of first gear were simply deploying a colourful turn of phrase and not speaking from experience. As the engine whined like a mechanical mosquito, I contemplated whether to return to the rental office or spend the entire week going twenty-five kilometers an hour. I’ve ever been good with cars. (Or horses, chainsaws or baking for that matter.) There are some people who really love cars. They can talk for hours about models, types of engines and fuel. That never happened in our house. I suspect subjects of that nature are seldom broached in any home where the major form of transportation is a mini van. Starting with an orange Kombi, we progressed to a Nissan E-20 before upgrading to a Tarago. My entire childhood was spent feeling as though I might well be on the way to the airport. Still stuck in first gear, both literally and metaphorically; I pulled, turned and depressed every knob, button or dial I could find. The windscreen wipers waved at oncoming traffic as I frantically tried to find anything resembling a gear stick. There was more bad news when the radio came to life and I discovered that all the pre-pro-
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grammed stations were commercial. As the speakers referred to the ‘greatest hits of yesterday and today’ I felt decidedly queasy. My own first car was nothing to shout about. In fact, it was quite the opposite; something that should be concealed from others at all costs. A lime green Daihatsu Charade is nobody’s dream car. Or, if it is, it’s the kind of dream you have during an particularly poor night’s sleep in which you awaken at two o’clock in the morning, a veneer of sweat across your back. In retrospect, I panicked. For some reason, I thought it necessary to select a vehicle from the first car yard we went to, never considering that I could take more time and look at more cars if that’s what it took.
Mornington News 28 June 2016
The Charade had five gears, all of which were necessary if you were to exceed sixty clicks an hour. It also had FM radio and a tape deck. From time to time, my car would pronounce judgment on whatever it was I was listening to and destroy the cassette, spewing reams of tape onto the floor. It also had a demister that, given the state of the windscreen, worked only in summer. Trips in the winter months required that I grab the steering wheel with one hand and a cloth with the other, to wipe the glass clear. It’s a miracle that I ever got anywhere in one piece. Having completed the most difficult u-turn of my adult life, I was now heading back to the rental office at top speed. Once there I would burst in and
claim the vehicle was defective or demand that they show how to change gears. Then, most probably by accident, I hit something and a large fluorescent number ‘two’ appeared. I had, it seemed, solved the mystery of how to change gears in an automatic. I was later to learn that this was something of a recent innovation that gave automatic drivers the sense that they were still changing gears. That’s progress. When I lived in Brisbane, I inherited a car from a work colleague. In fact, the vehicle was transported from interstate for my exclusive use and it was clear that the purple Lantra had had something of a hard life. The previous occupant had a passion for nicotine that meant the entire thing smelled like an ashtray on wheels. The stench was
so bad that, at one point, I wondered whether Government regulations might require me to paint the thing olive green to comply with plain packaging laws. Worse was come. Having ceased driving some time earlier, my parking skills were a little rusty, meaning that I managed to crash it into a concrete pole whilst parking. Having solved the great mystery of how to change gears, there was now the question of the lights. This being the midst of winter and there being only about half an hour of light a day, knowing how to turn the lights on and off was bound to come in handy. Using the scientifically proven technique of push, pull and turn, something resembling illumination softly emanated from the front of the car. I contemplated driving with a torch for safety reasons. Then there was the Astra. We were on holidays when it went to that big car-yard in the sky. My wife was adamant that the engine sounded on the verge of catastrophic collapse. I, in my inimitable style, dismissed these concerns right up until the moment that smoke started pouring out from underneath the bonnet. I later sold it to a wrecking yard for a handful of magic beans. After three days of driving the rental, someone pointed out that I only had the parking lights on. After more prodding, the entire dashboard and the road in front of me lit up. This made a lot more sense. Now with the lights on and the radio disabled, I can get about in comfort. I’d honk when I pass, if I knew how to work the horn. stuart@stuartmccullough.com