Updated: 16 October 2024
Memories of Wellington Mills by Syd Gardiner (from a journal written in the year 2000)
In the background, Wattle Springs, (Editor’s note: the Old Billiard Room was just up the hill from where the fire brigade sheds stand)
My memories start around 1933-34 when we lived in an old house on my grandfather Gardiner’s property at Wellington Mills. My mother was a wonderful Mum. She had to battle very hard to keep us fed and clothed on the small wage that my hard-working father earned.
I remember, before I started school, Mum would walk us down to the waste chute at the mill, and we would stand by the huge fire for hours, it seemed. But I suppose it was only for short stays.
My first days at school were quite frightening. School, I guess, was okay. It was getting there through all the cattle that used to stray about, quite scary.
My Dad was pleased to get work at the local Forests Department which was two and a half miles, about four kilometers north of Wellington Mills. We were all very excited, my Mum, Dad, sister Beryl, and me, brother Les was just a baby, to be moving out to the new settlement into a new house. We would walk out on the weekends just to see the progress of the buildings.
The big move came, and we were soon in a nice new house with two rainwater tanks, a nice bathroom, copper and troughs too. And so the long walk to and from school started, two and a half miles each way. And it did seem such a long way in bare feet, but we had plenty of company, as there was twelve of us at times, and we soon learned to make shortcuts on the way, sometimes over the citron bridge by way of the hairpin bend, or down over the hut bridge. Both were two planks across the Ferguson River, quite safe and quite long, at least we thought so.
My years at school were enjoyable, as I recall, and I didn’t have any dislikes of lessons. My teachers were Mr Sturrock, Mr Bradshaw, Mr Rule and Mr Crouchley. I left school at 14 years old.
I then worked on the telephone at the forest department. I now reflect on these years and how quickly it seemed to go, our time was well taken up on weekends with bushwalking and later cycling. We were blessed with a beautiful forest in those days, magnificent wild flowers such as spider orchids, double and triple headed, red and green blood tongues and all kinds of wild orchids, and I’m sure all this came about by regular burning at the right time of the year.
We would trap rabbits for their skins and used to eat the meat. Also for marron baits; 10 baits about 10 yards apart, would yield us plenty of big marron. We used to be able to cook 12 at a time in a four gallon kero tin. These weekends were made possible by my father. He would ride with us to the dam (Wellington Dam), which he probably enjoyed doing for us. For us, a wonderful man.
I must mention here that before all this was possible, the Wellington Dam had to be built. And my only memory of this is one day before my school days, we came to the weir whilst it was under construction, to a Sports Day, and I watched cricket being played, so I guess there is a pitch still down deep somewhere. Also there was swimming competitions below the wall. A duck was put in the water which they had to catch, and whoever caught the duck took it home.
I helped to build our tennis courts at the school. We played, but our rackets were nothing special. We also had sports days occasionally with Ferguson. We played cricket with homemade bats and made our balls from the center of blackboys (grass trees). I used to go to Bunbury on the charabanc, old Shari, as we called it, owned by Mr Joe Zagami.
We went to the pictures at the Mayfair Theater in Bunbury, and before that, in the Old Billiard Room at Wellington Mills. Alan Jones from Busselton showed these.
My Dad bought his first motor car in 1944, a 1934 model Ford. I went to dances at Ferguson, Wellington Mills, Yabberup and Noggerup, and later Donnybrook. And at these dances, I met Joan Merle Browning. I rode my push bike to Donnybrook over a corrugated gravel road to these.
At the age of 16, I joined the Air Training Corps. I had a few flights over Busselton in DC3s with the RAAF pilots taking off and landing at the old Busselton airport. I joined the British Commonwealth Occupying Force (BCOF) after the war and went to Japan with the occupation troops.
Whilst I was in the army, my parents moved from the Forests Department to Wattle Springs farm (at Wellington Mills), which belonged to Mr Wilkinson. I returned to Wellington Mills in 1948. I worked at the Forests Department for a short time again, and then left to do contract work and, at the same time, renovate the old home that was on a property owned by my grandfather, James Gardiner and later by my Dad. The work to be done was more extensive than I expected. But as my wedding day got closer, it was looking quite good.
And then came the big 1950 fire, which we fought all one day and night, all to no avail. Then, on the 14th of April 1950 the day before my wedding, it claimed my home that I had worked on for 18 months. However, the wedding went ahead as planned, and Joan and I were married in Donnybrook on the 15 April 1950.
In 1950 Wellington Mills, although only a shadow of what it had been, one could still see that it had been a very big mill town with many significant buildings still in pretty good shape, such as the school buildings, Hall and library, post office, mill office, the old water tank, the boarding house and the old butcher shop and siding, the railway engine shed and blacksmith shop, the old Manager’s House, the caretaker’s home, which was still occupied by Mr And Mrs Ferres and some of the old mill houses.
In April that year, the ominous smoke from a bushfire in the hills of Burekup started to increase. On 12 and 13 of April, I spent trying to halt the blaze with many other firefighters from the area, and I will never forget the roar of the fire and the frightfulness of it on the night of 13 April, 1950 as it roared across the hills towards us at Wellington Mills.
On the morning of the 14 April, my Dad and I decided we would not leave our home, but stay and do our best to save our houses, cattle, etc. The fire came at us like a huge ball of smoke and flame dropping spot fires ahead of it like small bombs. It raged past our farm, with many of our animals running around with patches of their hides alight after the fire had passed the farm.
I left to try and save my home. I had many drums and cans of water placed all around at this stage, all helpers, including the Forests Department, with all its fire units, had disappeared so we were on our own. I arrived at my place via cleared paddocks that at this stage had not caught alight.
The fire at this stage was on the other side of the road. I entered my house, closed all the windows, and then it came roaring over the paddocks, fanned by a very strong wind which was blowing. It lit cow pats, which then flew through the air like Catherine wheels, and belted them against the side of the house. The heat was terrific, and I could not venture outside.
I then noticed flames coming up through the new floorboards everywhere, and I knew then I only had one chance left, and it was to smash the bathroom window, jump out and maybe run somewhere. This is what I did. And to my surprise, everything was gone. And so I moved up the hill away from the house and looked back. The shed beside the house had already gone, and there I could see our house, a raging inferno. I had made it out by a miracle, but in time, and by now, all around me was burned black.
So I moved back towards home, and on the way, I helped Mr Zagami put out spot fires on his verandah. This is where Tom and Enid Hall lived today, but I couldn’t stay long, as I was worried about my Mum and Dad. As I returned to the farmhouse, I passed the Caretaker’s Cottage, and to my surprise, it was still standing, but there was a large section of the front verandah alight.
As I could not see home for smoke, I kept moving, and as I was almost there, I heard a loud explosion, and realized it was a drum of petrol that was stored under the old Cottage that had blown up. Our farmhouse had survived the fire, but all else was gone, and even that we put out a few times. Likewise, the car and my motorbike.
The following day, April 15, 1950 was our wedding day. All the hills were black and huge trees were standing with only big, thick limbs left. You could see for miles across the top of the hills.
That fire was a major disaster. But who knows, it may have changed the whole pattern of our lives. Of all the buildings that still stood before the fire, only the post office, the hall, the library, Mr Zagami’s house (the old Manager’s House), the old boarding house, Lena and Alf Johnson’s house, and two buildings towards the river, (which my Dad and Bob Wight bought to rebuild as sheds), and of course, the old engine remained. I do believe the Caretaker Cottage could have been saved had someone returned quickly or stayed.
NOTE ADDED Joan Gardiner: This was the Syd’s story but I’m quite sure he could have told many stories of his life at Wellington Mills, 70 years almost. Sadly, he didn’t. But in the big move from here (Wellington Mills) in July 2003, I was pleased to find this short account of his life after he’d passed away.
Syd loved the Ferguson Valley with a passion. Here at Wellington Mills, his love of the bush and the birds, the wildflowers, he often spoke about. The desecration of it from logging was always a very sad part of it. He loved the peaceful lifestyle, neighbors and friends. I lived here for 49 years, and I loved it too. Syd always said, and especially in those last months of his life, “Nothing ever stays the same. Just remember the good times, because there were so many”.
I am now living in Eaton near Bunbury. Sadly, Syd passed away on January 9, 2003 after many months of illness, battling cancer. His funeral was held in Bunbury Lawn Cemetery on the 15 January, 2003.
Reference:
Syd Gardiner’s memories were recorded in a journal in the year 2000. The journal was given to the Dardanup Heritage Collective by Michael Hall and is now in the Dardanup Archive.
Dardanup Heritage Collective 