I am Australian. Of Polish Descent.

Part VII: The Characters Downunder

(Continued, Part VI)

Two kilometers from the dam downstream, as I mentioned before, there was a power station supplying electricity to Sydney and surrounding areas.  This power station had to be serviced with oil and kerosene, and there was a small gauge railway running from the dam to the power station.

As a result of the dam disaster, the railway had been wrecked and washed away.  The construction manager came to me and said “you’re going to get fifteen men and your responsibility is to reconstruct the railway, back to the way it was.”

He then said “you’ll be on Ganger (foreman) wages and you‘ll be in charge of the fifteen men”.

Well, we commenced building the small gauge railway.  The job was progressing well and the construction manager said “just before we finish the railway, we’re going to have a test run to check it out”.  He said he would let me know when it was going to happen.

One day, some officials arrived at the dam from the Irrigation Commission and the construction manager announced “we are going to have a test run today”.

When the officials came down to the dam to watch the test run, the dogman appeared.  He was the bloke who carried a whistle or bell and his job was to regulate the movement of the flying fox.

Using the flying fox, he brought a trolley and set it down on the rails.  He then picked up a skip fully loaded with rocks and put it on top of the trolley.

As I saw the officials waiting and talking to each other, I decided to make myself busy and began collecting tools from amongst the rails.

All of a sudden, the officials and construction manager started shouting “Ted, get out!!” and waving their arms wildly in the air.
I looked towards the dam and there was the fully laden skip approaching me.  So I dived out from the rails, onto the rocks and saw the skip go past at high speed.  It took one bend, and on the next bend, derailed and became airborne.

As I nursed my aching elbows and knees, the officials and construction manager ran over to me and asked if I was alright.  If it wasn’t for them, I would have been killed.

This is what had happened ………

The dogman had been drinking heavily at lunchtime and began his work shift at 3.00pm.  While under the influence of alcohol, he organised a small diesel locomotive to run the trolley down to the power station, and back again.  He brought the trolley loaded with the skip, and was going to get the locomotive to hook it up the trolley.  Because the trolley wasn’t secured, the weight of the skip started pushing the trolley down the rails.

As they were shouting to me to get out of the way, I didn’t have any other option but to dive onto the rocks.

The dogman was sacked on the spot!

The officials came to me and said enthusiastically “Gee, you did a good job on the railway! The trolley took the first bend, and dislocated itself on the second bend at high speed!”  At least they were pleased with the job we’d done!

So that was my second near-miss ……….

On the first occasion, I recall we were doing an upgrade to strengthen the dam wall.  The dam wall consisted of two concrete walls with a narrow twenty metre deep gap in between.  Concrete was going to be poured between the two walls, so our job was to roughen up the dam wall to ensure that it bonded well.

The work went day and night - four or five workers per shift, two shifts in twenty-four hours.  We were standing on wooden planks that lay on top of steel reinforcement that protruded from the dam wall.  We had small, air-driven jackhammers and I had just secured my jackhammer to the steel reinforcement.  Somehow, and I don’t know how it happened, I stepped forward into fresh air!
Instinctively, I spread my elbows between the two walls and shouted “quick, get a plank!  I was suspended by my elbows, with a twenty metre fall beneath me!

The bloke next to me quickly shifted a plank sideways to get it underneath my feet, and as a result of this I lived to see another day!

Nowadays, although I occasionally get arthritic pain in my elbows, I am grateful because they saved my life that day.

I was nearing the end of my contract at Burrinjuck Dam so I said to the construction manager “all the jobs are finished and I have two months left on my work contract.  If you don’t mind, I would like to resign and go to the city”.  Being so long in the bush, I wanted to move on and work in the “big smoke” (city).

Given that I had an excellent work record, the construction manager gave his approval on the spot, but at the same time said “Ted, you’re making a big mistake, but there will always be work for you here if you want it.  You could be part of our management team”.  But I was young and naïve and determined to see the “big smoke“.

So I left Burrinjuck Dam and travelled by train to Sydney.  At that time there was plenty of accommodation available and I found an advertisement in a newspaper for a fitter’s assistant with State Rail.  I applied for the job and was asked to attend an interview.  Since I only had one previous job with the Irrigation Commission, I got the job and was expected to undergo training.

After the training was completed, I was sent to the locomotive depot to work as a fitter’s assistant.

I worked on the railway for thirteen years and during that time I certainly met some “characters” (odd or eccentric people) .

After a while I was asked if I had met MECHANICAL JOE.  I said “who is Mechanical Joe??”  My co-worker grinned and said “haven’t you noticed a tall, skinny bloke walking around?  You know, he has so much grease on his trousers that when he takes them off, they stand up on their own!!  He doesn’t have to put them on, he just steps into them. He lives in a caravan made out of old pieces of corrugated iron and the city council keep chasing him from one spot to another because they say his caravan is an eyesore (ugly sight).”

He then introduced me to Mechanical Joe, who was also a fitter’s assistant.  I looked down at his trousers and they looked like they were made out of black steel.  My co-worker said “ask Mechanical Joe about his latest invention”. ….. So I did.

He said enthusiastically “OH YEAH ………..I’M WORKING ON A RIFLE THAT SHOOTS ‘ROUND CORNERS!  But I’ve got one problem – how am I going to solve the problem of getting the rifle to sort out all of the different types of bullets so I can fire them?  Then he showed me his bag of assorted bullets, and trying not to laugh I said, “Joe, I don’t think I can solve that one!“.

As I walked away I could see my co-workers standing together in a huddle and having a good old laugh.

There was another worker at the depot who was also Polish.  His surname was Zimnawoda.  They all called him “JOE BLOW”.  I asked a co-worker why they called him “Joe Blow“.  Apparently, when an Aussie can’t pronounce a foreigner’s name they exaggerate!  And the answer I got was “oh, he’s a bonza (good) bloke and a mate (friend) of ours but he’s got too many “Zs” and “Ws” in his name.  No-one can pronounce it so we just call him “Joe Blow”…………..AND HE KNOWS IT!!

One day we were standing in a group and one of the Aussies said “those Balts (people from Baltic States), they don’t waste money.  They won’t spend any money on the races (gambling) or the footie (football games) and that’s why they can afford nice houses.”  So I popped up and said in a cheeky way “YEAH, THOSE BLOODY NEW AUSTRALIANS!  THEY’VE ONLY BEEN IN THE COUNTRY FOR FIVE MINUTES AND THEY THINK THEY OWN THE PLACE!!”.

There was a momentary hesitation and they all stood there looking at each other.  And then the Aussie smiled broadly and in a loud voice proclaimed “OH, HE’S ONE OF US!!”  He said to me “do you drink?” and I said “yes.”  And then he said “well, you’ll have to come to the pub with us”.

That “broke the ice”. I was accepted and became “one of them”.

A couple of months later there was a big worker’s strike at the railway.  We went on strike for three weeks because we were seeking better work conditions.  We had a lottery going to finance the Union’s newspaper called “Magnet”.  We paid two schillings per ticket and periodically received copies of the newspaper.

On this particular occasion, there was a small article in the newspaper about a depot and how they coped with the strike.  Nothing was mentioned about our depot but there was another article, one and a half pages long, saying how well the Soviet Union railway runs! (In other words, Communist propaganda!).

When I saw this, my blood starting boiling.  I went to the Union delegate and said “if that happens again, I will ask all the new Australians to boycott the lottery”.  It was my protest against the Union peddling Communist propaganda.

By this stage I was furious and said “I CAN’T GO BACK TO MY OWN COUNTRY BECAUSE OF THE COMMOS, AND HERE YOU ARE, GLORIFYING THEM!!“.  I said “and my family are suffering under the Communist regime”.  I then quoted a joke about a Soviet soldier saying to a Polish farmer “we’ve come here to free you of Nazi oppression”, and to that the farmer replied “and in the process, you’ve also freed me of my horse and cow!”  The Polish farmer described very well their so-called freedom.

As the State Rail was a “closed shop” (union stronghold) and I had made a stand against what was going on, I knew my days were numbered.

So eventually I resigned and took a job with A.W.A. (Australian Wireless Association).  And all thanks to the Railway Union, I was now in a better job and with better pay.

And sure enough …….I found another “character“!

I was employed as a sheet metal worker at A.W.A. and it didn’t take me long to make the grade.  I started working in the sheet metal shop under the supervision of a leading hand, foreman and production manager.

We called the production manager “FLAT BATTERY BILL”.  His first name was Bill and whenever he “got hot under the collar” about something, he stuttered badly and sounded like a car with a flat battery; hence the name, Flat Battery Bill!

After working for A.W.A. for about ten years, I left and moved on to jobs with higher wages.

I remember one place.  A.W.A. had recommended me as a highly skilled sheet metal worker and I got a job with a company who built air conditioners.

There was a friendly, highly skilled sheet metal worker there but he had a couple of peculiarities - he didn’t work in one spot and was accident prone.  Whatever job he was doing, he didn’t stay put and work in one spot.  He moved around the shop and had his projects and tools scattered all over the place.  He knew that he had a habit of scattering his tools so he branded all of them.  And because he cut himself a lot he left blood on the work benches.

So whenever someone was looking for Charlie, we used to say “oh, just follow his trail of tools or blood and you‘ll find him”.

In 1975, I built my first home under an owner-builder licence, and at the same time, made an application for a builder‘s licence.  A  Builders Licencing Board representative came to inspect the completed house that I had built and I was given an oral test at their office. I passed the test and was granted a full builders licence after that.

I worked as a self-employed builder for a number of years and when there were slack times in the “building game” I worked for other companies.

Eventually, I got to know a former bank manager who gave me a hand in preparing my income tax return.  He asked me if I would be interested in doing renovation work on old cottages in the Mudgee area of New South Wales.  He intended renting the cottages following renovation work.  He also owned a 1,700 acre grazing farm and I would be assisting on the farm, as required. 
The type of work really suited me, so I agreed.

I spent a considerable period of time in Mudgee.  I worked in the township doing cottage renovations and on his farm helping in the shearing shed and repairing farm machinery.
It was there, in Mudgee, that I met my life partner Linda.

Shortly after meeting Linda, we moved to the Blue Mountains and built a two-storey home.  We lived there for over twenty years.

And life certainly has many twists and turns…….and do you know where I ended up next?  Back where I started.  In a place not far from Burrinjuck Dam.

When I retired, we moved to a rural village called The Rock, in the Riverina region of New South Wales.  It is about two and a half hours drive to Burrinjuck Dam.  The Rock is in the vicinity of the Mt Kosciuszko National Park.  Mount Kosciuszko is the highest peak in Australia and is located in the national park. It was named by a famous explorer, Sir Paul Edmund de Strzelecki, because he thought the peak resembled the tomb of the Polish patriot Kosciuszko.

Ted in 2008

The Rock village used to be called “Kengal” meaning “lion of the plains”. It refers to the large rocky outcrop that resembles a lion and overlooks the surrounding open plains.

The Rock, Kengal - Lion of the plains

Our village is about twenty-five kilometres from Wagga Wagga (pronounced Wogga Wogga).  It is the largest inland city in New South Wales and in Aboriginal means “place of many crows”.

In Aboriginal language, when something is said twice it is the plural form, hence Wagga means “crow”and Wagga Wagga means “many crows”.

The area that we live in is Wiradjuri country.  Wiradjuri is the name of a tribe of Aborigines who have occupied this land for ages - pre-dating white man’s arrival.

Australia is a continent of vast distances.  I recall visiting my doctor some time ago and she told me that I had to go to a regional hospital located in Albury.  I said to her “that’s a long way from here”.  She looked at me and said “it’s only up the road!” and added “its only a hundred kilometres away!  This is an Australian’s concept of distances.

I am now in my eighties and over the years have come to love my adopted country.  I love Australia with its wide open spaces, its people (including the “characters”) and the relaxed way of life.

My feelings for Australia can be summed up in the words of a much-loved lyric poem entitled “My Country” written by a famous Australian poet called Dorothea Mackellar (1885 -1968).

This is part of it.

I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-seas,
Her beauty and her terror --
The wide brown land for me!

  

Part VIII: FAMILY UNCOVERED! After 62 years...

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