The Field Family Newsletter, Edition 31

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The FIELD Family Newsletter

31st Edition, August 2007, Edited by Dorothy Cefarin
Reprinted here with permission

Alan Fisher has not been well since he suffered a stroke a little over twelve months ago. His wife, Joan, has become Alan’s nurse and carer and our thoughts and prayers are with them, as together, they seek to make his life a bit easier.

Below is a very interesting comment from Colin Field on an item in the last newsletter.

I was interested to read in the last will and testament of "Michael Scott Field of Forbes" that he bequeathed "all the real and personal property of which I shall be possessed to my daughters Daisy Florence Field, Mary Pearl Field and Sylvia Field in equal shares".

What is interesting is that the last mentioned "daughter", Sylvia, was not his daughter (though raised as such) but rather his grand-daughter, being the daughter of his other (and eldest) daughter, Sarah May.

Autobiography

Grace Celia Sherman (nee Wilcox)

Her life in the Canowindra District aged 12.

It was a hot Australian summer’s day on 26th January 1920 when my mother complained of labour pains. These pains grew stronger as the day wore on. A messenger per foot was sent to the local mid-wife who came driving up in a horse pulling a hooded sulky.

Curious neighbours stood in the street. The mid-wife said “Just in time” and with an agonising rush I was born, a tiny little bundle of humanity, blue-green eyes, showings of dark hair. A good slap on the buttocks made me scream and aware I had entered a strange, bright world. Caring arms washed and cleansed my body and handed me to my mother who cuddled me and gave me my first drink. Joy and love showed in her eyes. “We shall call her Grace Cecelia, she crooned. “Cecelia is my mother’s name. You are a fifth generation and a descendant of pioneers. A true blue Australian”.

Later my dad looked at me and said, “It’s a girl”. Three more pair of eyes peered into my cradle. They were my siblings, Lucinda, Irene and Albert. There were excited whisperings “Another playmate, but oh so tiny”. Being newborn my vision was short, but if I could have gazed beyond the four walls of this weather-board, tin-roofed cottage, I would have a vision of a scene of tranquility, of a vivid green lucerne paddock, dotted with horses and cows contentedly grazing on its lush shoots. At the end of the slip-rails the Belabula River meandered and gurgled merrily on its way, drooping willows, their tender leaves like strings of delicate green pearls graced its steep banks. All this beauty was like an oasis in a desert for further afield it was hot, dry, bare land in central New South Wales. Closer to the river nestled the town of Canowindra.

A few weeks passed when my dad and siblings came to take us home to our farm several miles away in the small hamlet of Billimari. They arrived in a 1919 Ford car. How proud he was that day with his near-new car (the first Ford in the district) and a new baby too. The strange purr of his car bothered me and the open-air vehicle caused me to scream with wind, even though I was wrapped firmly in a hand knitted shawl and held by my mother on her lap in the front seat. (No baby capsules those days).

A few days later I was dressed in a long white frock, bonnet and bootees and taken to the Methodist Church in Billimari, where the Rev. Stanley Drummond put the sign of the cross on my forehead. (Later the Rev. became famous as founder of the Far West Home in Manly NSW, a holiday home for deprived children of the outback).

Still unaware of the world around me I didn’t realise that World War ! had ended and peace was with us, although my mother was still grieving about the loss of her beloved brother, Bert, killed somewhere in France. (He was an Uncle I would have known in name only- a brave Digger).

A great marvel in the skies had taken place. Ross Kingsford-Smith had made the first flight in an aeroplane from England to Australia in 1919. He was the hero of the time and it was the beginning of wonderful feats in the air which helped to shape Australia’s future.

As the months passed I didn’t thrive and when I commenced walking everyone would say “What a little doll. She is so tiny!” This was possibly brought about by my mother almost losing me in early pregnancy.

It was great even when a new brother, Tom, came into our fold two and a half years later. This made us a family of seven. I lived happily on our farm with my two brothers and two sisters in a new home surrounded by a beautiful orchard of ninety fruit trees of many varieties. We often played hide-and-seek among the trees. The outback dunny was in the corner of this orchard. Around it grew huge pie melons and a prolific peach tree. We would sit on the melons and eat peaches weighing up to two pounds (ie. nearly two kilograms). One was enough for a meal. Our 288 acres of land was farmed for wheat with draught horses which pulled ploughs, drills, hearers and wagons (there were no tractors then). Curious brother Tom put his finger in a work drill and almost cut it off. Mt dad brought him home, treated it, then truck it back on (seldom were there visits to the Dr in those days). It healed but Tom had a stiff finger for the rest of his life.

A family of ten lived nearby. They were a very destructive lot. They owned a large rocking horse and they were so curious as to what the horse ate that they cut it in two to see if it ate chaff!

My first visit to Sydney eventuated when I was two years of age. dad drove the Ford Model T but when he got to Mt. Victoria we came to a standstill. A wise motorist advised him to drive backwards up the mountain so that it would make the petrol run back to the carburetor. Much to our relief it worked. It took us two days to travel from Billimari near Canowindra to get to Parramatta.

My uncle extended our home as our family grew. One day, whilst they were building they were alarmed to see me running along the verandah and disappear over the edge. “Surely she has hurt herself badly” they thought, but were amazed to see me pick myself up unharmed and disappear in another direction. I was a lively tom-boy.

I had my first year at school at Billimari. My teacher was Ted Wilson. This year proved to be the only time in my life that I was the teacher’s pet. My tiny frame would walk two miles (approximately 3 km) each way. I envied one girl, Marg. She had a sparkling new bike. Oh! How I longed for one too. I would dream about this mode of transport for years after.

Sometimes my mother didn’t have enough bread to make sandwiches, so we would fill our school satchels with fruit from the orchard. That would be our lunch or go back to Jack Hunt Store for biscuits, currant lunch or creamy chocolate. A real treat!

My mum had a hard life, cooking, cleaning and providing meals for six men at harvest and hay-making time. Even though she had five little children around her skirts, not one of these men would pick up a tea-towel and help her with the washing up at night (there were no dish washing machines then). Besides, she would cook and carry on her back a hot dinner to the men who were working two miles away (3km). Washing clothes was very hard work (particularly during the winter months) as the copper was in the open air and she had to lift heavy wet sheets and clothing out of it and wring them dry by hand.

Perhaps because of lack of attention, I would cry at night in my cot “I’m cold. The blankets have come off. Mummy, I want you”. I did this several times until my dad roared at me “I’ll give you a hiding my gay”. I buried my tears in the pillow and never dared to complain after that incident.

My dad bought a beautiful ”Victor” piano (which I have in my home 76 years later). This was the first time I had heard piano music (there were no radios or CD’s in those days). Neighbours gathered and many ‘sing-songs’ were held in our old home at “Fair View”, Billimari. I also enjoyed listening to my uncle playing lovely melodies on his violin.

In February 1927 we said farewell to this home and moved to another farm called “Sylvania” on the Eugowra Road, 12 miles from Canowindra NSW. My mother was distressed and I cried at leaving this lovely home for a very ancient cottage. I stayed with my grandma during the moving process. I stood at the back gate and cried as I wanted to be with my family. My Dad bribed me to behave and gave me sixpence to shut up.

Later Dad had to remove the furniture from the old home. We children waited anxiously for his arrival as it was getting dark. We put our ears to the ground and we could hear the plod, plod of the draught horses’ hooves and the wagon being pulled behind them (there were no utes or furniture removal vans in those days). dad had been delayed a few miles away as the ashes from the pipe he’d been smoking had landed on Mum’s chaise lounge and my mattress, setting both alight. He left my mattress in a paddock near the side of the road where it smouldered for days. I slept on the floor that night.

At “Sylvania” our first event was to climb our big hill which we called “BaldHill”. I was terrified as I got half-was up and clung to a ridge crying “I’ll fall! I’ll fall!“ Later on I got more courage and joined my brothers and sisters in running from the top and catching low-hanging branches of a huge pine tree half-way down the hill. The first time my sister, Lucy, missed the climb and knocked me off the ledge, causing me to roll down the hill. I sobbed as I was so terrified that I would not be able to stop. Unbeknown to my mother we would don old bloomers and trousers and sneak away to play this dangerous game.

It was now 9th May, 1927. Great excitement as Parliament House in Canberra was being opened. The Duke and Duchess of York had travelled from England especially for the occasion. A new city had been born. Little did I know that one day I would work in that *stately building forty-five years later.

School was once again on my agenda. Two miles to walk each way to a little school. Children from the surrounding farms attended. As our teacher taught everybody up to 6th class there were pupils who were older and younger than I was. I didn’t relish those school days and sometimes I rebelled.

My first teacher at the Eugowra Road School was Minnie Connelly who had a very popular niece called Sheila (who was murdered in later life). The boys played pranks on her. One very wicked prank was to put bull-ants down the neck of her frock. They were severely punished for such cruel behaviour, and they deserved it! The cane was used in those days. I even got caned sometimes or kept in. Being a little girl was no barrier to my being punished.

In the springtime we used to lie down on the green grass and roll around on our way home from school. I guess it cooled down our hot bodies and made the distance shorter. One memorable day we had to cross a creek which was badly flooded. Lucy held Tom’s hand and Bert held the other in an attempt to get him across the raging torrent. It was too much for them and they let go. My sister then plunged in fully clothed and managed to snatch Tom from likely death. There was some explaining to be done about their bedraggled appearance when they got home.

I was twelve years old when my eldest sister, Lucy, became a subsidised teacher. As the Depression was on my Dad couldn’t afford to send us away for higher education - so Lucy taught me. I learnt to spell and write and passed the Permit Enroll for higher school. I loved writing letters and had pen pals all over the world. Mail days (three times a week) were a real joy. In fact I corresponded with my future husband for four years. I was so shy I could express myself better by writing.

Many times, as I grew older, I would be sent by my mother to help my grandmother at home. I remember her wispy, grey, streaked hair with a small bun at the back. A tiny figure, only five feet tall, sitting in a rocking chair, often humming a tune as I sat at her feet. I enjoyed listening to her life story and I marvelled at her tenacity, particularly as she had given birth to fourteen children in those primitive days. She told of her trip to the Blue Mountains when she was eleven years old. (These mountains had a blue haze aura as a result of the gas given off by the eucalyptus trees. What stories they could tell if only they could speak). Mt grandmother’s first trip was from Castlereagh near the Nepean River where Penrith is today. She rode a horse and helped drove cattle in between riding in a horse and buggy. Her half-sister travelled across the Blue Mountains three times. This was a distance of 250 miles each way (which takes about four and a half hours by cat today). Not only was the distance great but the aborigines camped around them at night-time, so their life was fraught with danger on their way to becoming a pioneer of the Canowindra district.

I can remember when the Dr. rode 26 miles to visit my sick uncle. My great grandmother lived 32 miles away on the Belabula River. They grew grapes and made their own wine, which they stored in a cellar. She could recall a bush track being so rough that on one occasion a young man riding a push-bike with a container on the back, kept falling off. Another of Great Gran’s stories was that the residents in her district claimed that the ‘Yahoo’ lived out in the hills of Nangar. One night she thought she had heard is call out “Yahoo”, so stealthily she crept outside with a gun in her hand and saw a figure in white standing in the moonlight. Just as she was about to pull the trigger the figure (ie. Great Granddad), dressed in a nightshirt, let a yell out of him “Don’t shoot!”.

These were nerve-racking times for they believed in ghosts too. The well known stories of Fisher’s Ghost still prevail in history..........

* In January 1969 Carolyn, Trevor and I left Parkes NSW to live with Peter in Aranda ACT - the first suburb to be built in the satellite town of Belconnen. We felt like pioneers as there were only a few houses and a small shop. The drought was severe and our area looked like a construction zone in a dustbowl.

During the 1970’s I was a member of the catering staff at Parliament House and waited on Royalty and MP’s. Imagine me, the little ‘doll’, once regarded as a tom-boy, working in such a grand building and being introduced to the leaders of the land.

(This autobiography was written by Grace during January to March 2001)

The autobiography above is very interesting. Grace died of a heart attack whilst talking to her sister Lucy on the telephone on the 11th December 2002.

Grace’s heritage: Edward Field, Lydia (Field) Brown, Cecilia (Brown) Williamson, Melva (Williamson) Wilcox, Grace (Wilcox) Sherman.

Bathurst Free Press and Mining Journal

Wednesday July 19th. 1882

“A very painful accident (and unhappily one that resulted fatally) befell one of the sons of Mr. W. Richard of Gulgo near Condobolin on Tuesday last. It seem that the deceased, who was about 16 years of age, had been out shooting, and on his return home ws attempting to take a loaded gun out of the buggy when it went off, sending a wire cartridge into the unfortunate lad’s groin.

Word was at once sent into Forbes for medical assistance, and Dr. McQueen started almost immediately. Unfortunately, however, it was too late, as the poor fellow died a few hours after the accident. Great sympathy is felt for Mr. and Mrs. Richards and the remaining members of the family in their bereavement.”

The young deceased man’s name was Ernest Albert Richards, the 11th child of Elizabeth (nee Higgins) and William Richards
Born 27-3-1866 Died 12-7-1882
He was buried at Condobolin
Dr. McQueen was married to Sophia Elizabeth Strickland.

The following was taken from the Lachlander of Condobolin. No dates were given on the paper.

A Thomas Richards was born on 21st December, at Hartley 1843, and died on 4/1/1905.

Thomas was the brother of Mary Jane Innes who married Humphrey William Grey Innes the first Mayor of Condobolin. The story of Mary Jane and her 100th birthday was printed in The Field Family Newsletter No. 6. Thomas’s mother was Elizabeth Higgins the daughter of Sophia Field, who was the daughter of Edward Field.

Death of Mr. T. Richards

Early this morning Mr. T. Richards of Weebah, a well known and highly respected resident of the Lachlan passed away at the age of 61 years.

Mr. Richards was born at Hartley and was connected with the old Hawkesbury family of the same name. He spent his youth in the historic town of Richmond and arrived on the Lachlan some 44 years ago. Mr. Richards was always connected with sporting matters, and he bore the reputation of being a thorough straight goer. The deceased gentleman leaves behind him a widow and a family of five girls and one boy. Among his relatives, who are well known in the Condobolin district, are Mrs. H. G. and Mrs. Warburton Innes, Mrs. Lorking of Parkes, Mrs. Atkins, Mrs. Thomas, and Messers Jack and Doley Richards.

The late Mr. Richards being a member of the local Masonic Lodge, his remains will be accorded a public funeral. A Lodge of Sorrow will be held at the Masonic hall tomorrow afternoon at 2-30pm, after which the brethren will attend the funeral in regalia. All members of the craft are invited to attend.

This is your newsletter and can only survive from the information that you give. Please I do need more stories and birth, death and marriage information if this newsletter is to survive. Thank you to Betty Pont and Pan Wilcox for your help. Remember if you have any stories or need any information contact:

Dorothy Cefarin
24 Eggleton Street
Blacktown 2148 NSW
OR e-mail Doff202@unwired.com.au

If some of your family are not listed send me the information so it can be passed on and recorded or contact David or Colin yourself, they are ever so willing to help.

David Rawsthorne
PO Box 139
Lithgow. NSW 2790
Australia.
E-mail: david@davidrawsthorne.com
Webpage: http://www.davidrawsthorne.com

Colin Field
PO Box 51
Rivett ACT 2611
Fax (02) 6287 4106
E-mail: cfield@pcug.org.au