* a collection of stories and memories, in no particular order, from the life and times of John Clarke, who served as a policeman in the Australian Police Force, a great practical joker, he also had a great affinity with people and wildlife, was a champion swimmer, snooker player, loved golf, still loves fishing and is also an artist. I hope you enjoy his recollections - cheers, karin (his daughter)
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When we went to Port Macquarie, we took our peacocks with us in the car, as well as some chooks and guinea fowl, but due to complaints from the neighbours, made to Sgt Plain, I had to give them away to Sea-Acres Tourist Park at Shelly Beach, Port Macquarie (now known as Sea Acres Rainforest Centre - click here to see their website)
Publish Post
We lived in the 'lock-up' at Port Macquarie (where the prison cells were attached to the house we lived in) and our yard was where the Police Station now stands, right on the River.
Sally (my wife) used to feed up to a dozen prisoners at a time, and got paid a few cents for each meal. I think it was $0.50c for brekky, $0.70 cents for lunch and $1.00 for tea. They used to get good meals, the same as what the family (us) ate.
Iin those days, there were only 5 Police Officers stationed at Port Macquarie on General Duties and 2 on Highway Patrol. I had the phone from 5pm each day to 8am the next morning (on call every night) and would be called out to accidents, etc. every night.
It was very tough, as many nights I was up most of the night up the Cooperabung and Kundabung Mountains between Kempsey and Port Macquarie, doing terrible accidents and then had to work 8am-5pm during the days. I used to get time off for this but when they brought in payment for overtime, they extended the shifts at Port from 8-12midnight to save paying me, and I then only had the 'phone after midnight, which wasn't so bad.
I joined a group of Jewy (jew fish) fisherman at Port Macquarie and spent a lot of time with Bunny Coates, Ron Whiting, Tom Clark and Garry Rae, fishing for jewies off the breakwall. We used to catch quite a lot, between 25lb and 76lb - beautiful fish.
We used to play heaps of practical jokes at Port Macquarie - tacks in the Highway Patrol boots, wet toilet paper bombs in the high tree outside the Police Station door, released by string bungers let off in the toilet, etc, and heaps more.
I was on the volunteer Jet Rescue Boat as a driver and did 80 odd rescues on the Hastings River Bar and when we left Port, had a big send-off at the RSL and the Port Council presented us with an inscribed briefcase in appreciation.
I started marine fish keeping at Port Macqurie and had 3 beautiful tanks of fish. Once, one broke in the middle of the night and we were up all night cleaning up saltwater.
Showing posts with label blog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blog. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
recollections about Tottenham: Rex Wiseman and goannas
* a collection of stories and memories, in no particular order, from the life and times of John Clarke, who served as a policeman in the Australian Police Force, a great practical joker, he also had a great affinity with people and wildlife, was a champion swimmer, snooker player, loved golf, still loves fishing and is also an artist. I hope you enjoy his recollections - cheers, karin (his daughter)
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At Tottenham, Rex Wiseman, the local Central West Electricity bloke and I, had a business collecting reptiles, mostly goannas, and we used to sell them to a pet shop bloke called Sam Cleary, at Petersham. We would send them down in a big locked box on the train once a fortnight. I was called back home from golf one day by Sally, when all the googies (goannas) got out of their cage and were all running 'round the Police yard.
Rex and I took a load down by car once, and they all got out into the boot and up into the lining of the roof. We caught them all except one, and took them into the pet shop. Later, we caught the last one and sold it to a bloke at Kings Cross (we were staying with Sal's parents at the Fire Station there). This bloke was last seen going into the Pink Pussycat Night Club with the goanna. Years later, there were stories in the papers about this huge goanna living on the rooves of Kings Cross, dining on pigeons!
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We went on holiday and Rex and Maureen were looking after my tame blue bonnett parrot, which was on the ground in his yard in a small cage, when the dog across the road, a miniature fox terrier, was sniffing at the bird. Rex shot it with .22 rat shot (only supposed to sting - will kill rates) and shot the dog dead just as its owner was coming over to get it - quite a few ructions over that!
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At Tottenham, Rex Wiseman, the local Central West Electricity bloke and I, had a business collecting reptiles, mostly goannas, and we used to sell them to a pet shop bloke called Sam Cleary, at Petersham. We would send them down in a big locked box on the train once a fortnight. I was called back home from golf one day by Sally, when all the googies (goannas) got out of their cage and were all running 'round the Police yard.
Rex and I took a load down by car once, and they all got out into the boot and up into the lining of the roof. We caught them all except one, and took them into the pet shop. Later, we caught the last one and sold it to a bloke at Kings Cross (we were staying with Sal's parents at the Fire Station there). This bloke was last seen going into the Pink Pussycat Night Club with the goanna. Years later, there were stories in the papers about this huge goanna living on the rooves of Kings Cross, dining on pigeons!
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We went on holiday and Rex and Maureen were looking after my tame blue bonnett parrot, which was on the ground in his yard in a small cage, when the dog across the road, a miniature fox terrier, was sniffing at the bird. Rex shot it with .22 rat shot (only supposed to sting - will kill rates) and shot the dog dead just as its owner was coming over to get it - quite a few ructions over that!
Monday, November 29, 2010
recollections about myself: meeting Sally
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I was a member of Bondi Surfbathers Surf Club and spent a lot of time on the beach. Several of us blokes were sitting on the beach one day in 1960 and I had a radio and it was playing "Barefoot Boy" by Noelene Batley - a big hit of the day, when thee cheeky nurses came up and sat with us on the beach to listen to the song. One of these, was a cute little redhead called Sally Lynch who I fell for immediately! I had sort've noticed her on the beach for a while.
We began going out together. I was a bit doubtful as to Sal's family, because I wasn't a Catholic. Sal's Dad, Ray, was a senior fireman and they lived on top of the Kings Cross Fire Station. Sally was in her first year of nursing at Sydney Hospital. Sally's brothers are Ray and Chris, sisters Karin, Ellen (now Genevieve) and Hilary. (see Sally's father Ray below the day he received a medal in his form Fireman's uniform in Sydney - John is far right at the back, Aunty Karin in pink mini dress, white hat is Betty Joan Clarke (John's mother) and green hat is Sally's mother Thelma (Ray's wife), the red head is Sally, lady in yellow is Colleen Lynch (sister in law) with their son Mark Lynch carried by Colleen, and her husband Ray (Sally's brother). Karin is in the front in a green dress posing with Ray (her grandfather in formal Fireman attire)
Sally lived at home, but later had to board at the Hospital or at the sydney Eye Hospital in Woolloomooloo. Sally used to get free tickets every now and then through the Hospital to go to the tivoli and we went and saw shows there quite often. We used to go to the movies and have coffee in a little coffee shop at Kings Cross and to to the beach. The Coffee Shop was called "The Mignon". Sally's real name was Sylvia Anne Lynch and as her initials were S.A.L. everyone called her Sal.
I had use of Dad's car for a short period, an old Austin A40 convertible and one weekend I took Sal to Austinmer where Mum and Dad and Isabel were holidaying. On the way back to Sydney at night on the Sunday, the car broke down in the deepest darkest portion of the National Park (no F3 freeway in those days).
Eventually, I got a car to stop and asked him to call the NRMA down when he got to Sutherland. We waited for hours. Big trouble as Sal's Dad would be pacing the floor waiting for his daughter.
While we were waiting, a car stopped to see if he could help and told us another car loaded with hoodlums had crashed further back down the road and that whey were suspicious characters. The NRMA arrived about 3am and I asked him to call the depot and request them to advise Sutherland Police about the crash. He did so. Turned out the A40 had to be towed to Sutherland as it had a broken axle. So we got a lift to Sutherland Police Station with the NRMA and arrived there about 6am! I went into the Police Station to use the phone to ring Sal's Dad, who naturally got stuck right into me. Then the Police Sergeant at Sutherland asked me if I was the bloke who had rung about the car crash. He congratulated me, as it turned out the Police went down and caught a gang of car thieves they had been after for a long time. I got a good mark on my Service Register for this, but was regarded with deep suspicion by Sal's Dad, Ray.
I got transferred to Parkes in 1961, but prior to being transferred, I had 14 weeks leave and with 3 other Police, including George Leighton, we went opal mining at Lightning Ridge in my 1952 blue Holden Sedan. Had a wonderful time spotlight shooting 'roos at night for skins and mining in the day. We cleaned out a deep old mine and chipped in with our picks where the old miners had stopped. We found some opal which paid for our trip. Sally's opal earrings were dug out during that trip. I had a terrible accident in the car coming back to Lightning Ridge from Walgett with supplies. I ran into the blade of a bulldozer who was grading the road at night and the blade was on the wrong side of the road. It cut right into the car from front to back, just missing my knee! Luckily the blade was turned away instead of in towards us, in which case, it would have dragged us right into the bulldozer. We were flat out at 90mph at the time, very lucky!
After my transfer to Parkes in 1961, Sally and I wrote lots of letters and I visited Sydney when I could. By this time, Mum and Dad had moved to Gordon. I boarded at Parkes iwth Lila Davis. Michael was her son who later married my sister Isabel. He fell in love with a photo of Isable that i had on my dressing table. Whilst at Parkes I used to reliee at Condobolin, Bogan Gate and Tullamore. It was at Condobolin, that an aboriginal climbed a tree and got Cocky Clarke (a white cockatoo) out of a nest for me and I gave her to Mum and Dad on one of my trips to Sydney. We had to fee her Weet-Bix on a spoon til she was old enough for seed.
I had a lot of interesting cases (police) at Parkes and attended some dreadful crashes.
Recollections of Katoomba: my first day
* a collection of stories and memories, in no particular order, from the life and times of John Clarke, who served as a policeman in the Australian Police Force, a great practical joker, he also had a great affinity with people and wildlife, was a champion swimmer, snooker player, loved golf, still loves fishing and is also an artist. I hope you enjoy his recollections - cheers, karin (his daughter)
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When I was a boy, we went to Katoomba in 1950 and lived in "Arahana"a house owned by the Bank (where my father Jack worked) on the corner of Kurrawong Road and Mortin St. Sal (my wife) and I called in their during our 40 year School Reunion and met the guy who now lives there and had a lovely tour of the house and a cuppa (Nov 1977).
The day we moved in, I met a local boy and we went on our bikes down the Cliff Drive and explored some bush. We were late back and Mum and Dad called out the Police as they reckoned we had fallen over the cliff - 'specially when they found our bikes as the cliff top!'
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When I was a boy, we went to Katoomba in 1950 and lived in "Arahana"a house owned by the Bank (where my father Jack worked) on the corner of Kurrawong Road and Mortin St. Sal (my wife) and I called in their during our 40 year School Reunion and met the guy who now lives there and had a lovely tour of the house and a cuppa (Nov 1977).
The day we moved in, I met a local boy and we went on our bikes down the Cliff Drive and explored some bush. We were late back and Mum and Dad called out the Police as they reckoned we had fallen over the cliff - 'specially when they found our bikes as the cliff top!'
Steaming Poo
* a collection of stories and memories, in no particular order, from the life and times of John Clarke, who served as a policeman in the Australian Police Force, a great practical joker, he also had a great affinity with people and wildlife, was a champion swimmer, snooker player, loved golf, still loves fishing and is also an artist. I hope you enjoy his recollections - cheers, karin (his daughter)
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It was 'round 1982. I was the boss of Kingsliff Police Station when I received word that a garage had been help up down south and that the offenders were in a certain car heading north.
Took off for the scene in the Police wagon but prior to getting there, got word by radio that the offender's car had turned over on a bush road and that they had decamped into the scrub.
By the time I arrived on the scene, there were four or five Police cars there already, with all the Police standing around on the road near the overturned stolen car. No sign of the offenders.
I decided to have a look in the paddock nearby for signs of the direction of the fugitives and about a hundred yards away under a large gum tree found fresh steaming human faeces with some used newspaper and thought I was in luck...
I called out 'this way fellows, there is a big pile of....'.
I looked down to the officers some who were bent over, others leaning on their cards, but they wouldn't come.
I went back to the group and after some difficult conversation because they were laughing so much, eventually discovered that the culprit was one of our own - my own lockup keeper.
that's how i got the nickname 'Tracker'...
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It was 'round 1982. I was the boss of Kingsliff Police Station when I received word that a garage had been help up down south and that the offenders were in a certain car heading north.
Took off for the scene in the Police wagon but prior to getting there, got word by radio that the offender's car had turned over on a bush road and that they had decamped into the scrub.
By the time I arrived on the scene, there were four or five Police cars there already, with all the Police standing around on the road near the overturned stolen car. No sign of the offenders.
I decided to have a look in the paddock nearby for signs of the direction of the fugitives and about a hundred yards away under a large gum tree found fresh steaming human faeces with some used newspaper and thought I was in luck...
I called out 'this way fellows, there is a big pile of....'.
I looked down to the officers some who were bent over, others leaning on their cards, but they wouldn't come.
I went back to the group and after some difficult conversation because they were laughing so much, eventually discovered that the culprit was one of our own - my own lockup keeper.
that's how i got the nickname 'Tracker'...
The Blue Hole
* a collection of stories and memories, in no particular order, from the life and times of John Clarke, who served as a policeman in the Australian Police Force, a great practical joker, he also had a great affinity with people and wildlife, was a champion swimmer, snooker player, loved golf, still loves fishing and is also an artist. I hope you enjoy his recollections - cheers, karin (his daughter)
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this is one of my favourite stories dad, as told by dad's mate, Neal - karin
One of my favourite outings as a boy growing up in Katoomba was to the Blue Hole in the company of a group of mates.
The Blue Hole was a deep pool below a cascade in a creek well into the thick bush at North Katoomba. I don't know why we called it the Blue Hole because the water always appeared greenish even though the creek flowing into it was crystal clear.
We would pack our lunch, walk or ride to the edge of the bush at North Katoomba, hid our bikes if we had them, then walk a couple of kilometres along the creek while looking for 'possums nests' and freshwater crayfish and things.
We went there to catch rainbow trout. We never caught many, if we caught one in an outing between us, we considered it a successful catch. But the expectation was always exciting. We didn't know much about catching trout, but I remember one day when we were having no luck I walked a little way down the creek from the pool. I spotted a trout under a bank. In the usual fashion I threw in a line baited with a worm. The fish took no interest So I suspended bait under a piece of stick and floated it past the fish. Immediately the fish struck and was landed. I got such a thrill. We changed our techniques after that.
We had to climb down a short cliff to get to the waters edge at the hole. On this particular day we had bought three bottles of soft drink (an absolute treat for us) at Katoomba. Clarkey (John Clarke - myself) was carrying them in his backpack. When we got to the cliff, he threw his backpack from the top to the bottom to save carrying it down without a single thought for its contents. Of course, one of the bottles broke, it was amazing they didn't all break. We complained bitterly but Clarkey rather indignantly claimed he couldn't see the justification, after all, we still had two bottles left!
Another day, John (these incidents always seemed to involve him!) somehow managed to sink a fish hook into his finger. We were all standing in a huddle earnestly looking down at Clarkey's pointer. While the patient groaned, a few of us took turns at tattempting to manipulate the hook free, without success. Someody then pulled out a blunt fishing knife and suggested we cut it out. Whoever it was confidently made some pretended cutting strokes in the air over the finger, but then lost courage. Another kid called out...'ive us a go!' but this was interrupted by the bright idea of going to Arthur Analzark's place. He lived nearby, his sister was a nurse, so she would be able to fix it for sure. We found her at home and explained our situation. With us all looking on eagerly, she examined John's finger for about 3 seconds, grabbed the line and just yanked it out. We continued out trip with John in considerable pain.
They were great days, even when they didn't go to plan.
Neal (thank you Neal!)
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this is one of my favourite stories dad, as told by dad's mate, Neal - karin
One of my favourite outings as a boy growing up in Katoomba was to the Blue Hole in the company of a group of mates.
The Blue Hole was a deep pool below a cascade in a creek well into the thick bush at North Katoomba. I don't know why we called it the Blue Hole because the water always appeared greenish even though the creek flowing into it was crystal clear.
We would pack our lunch, walk or ride to the edge of the bush at North Katoomba, hid our bikes if we had them, then walk a couple of kilometres along the creek while looking for 'possums nests' and freshwater crayfish and things.
We went there to catch rainbow trout. We never caught many, if we caught one in an outing between us, we considered it a successful catch. But the expectation was always exciting. We didn't know much about catching trout, but I remember one day when we were having no luck I walked a little way down the creek from the pool. I spotted a trout under a bank. In the usual fashion I threw in a line baited with a worm. The fish took no interest So I suspended bait under a piece of stick and floated it past the fish. Immediately the fish struck and was landed. I got such a thrill. We changed our techniques after that.
We had to climb down a short cliff to get to the waters edge at the hole. On this particular day we had bought three bottles of soft drink (an absolute treat for us) at Katoomba. Clarkey (John Clarke - myself) was carrying them in his backpack. When we got to the cliff, he threw his backpack from the top to the bottom to save carrying it down without a single thought for its contents. Of course, one of the bottles broke, it was amazing they didn't all break. We complained bitterly but Clarkey rather indignantly claimed he couldn't see the justification, after all, we still had two bottles left!
Another day, John (these incidents always seemed to involve him!) somehow managed to sink a fish hook into his finger. We were all standing in a huddle earnestly looking down at Clarkey's pointer. While the patient groaned, a few of us took turns at tattempting to manipulate the hook free, without success. Someody then pulled out a blunt fishing knife and suggested we cut it out. Whoever it was confidently made some pretended cutting strokes in the air over the finger, but then lost courage. Another kid called out...'ive us a go!' but this was interrupted by the bright idea of going to Arthur Analzark's place. He lived nearby, his sister was a nurse, so she would be able to fix it for sure. We found her at home and explained our situation. With us all looking on eagerly, she examined John's finger for about 3 seconds, grabbed the line and just yanked it out. We continued out trip with John in considerable pain.
They were great days, even when they didn't go to plan.
Neal (thank you Neal!)
Police Cardboard Cutouts
* a collection of stories and memories, in no particular order, from the life and times of John Clarke, who served as a policeman in the Australian Police Force, a great practical joker, he also had a great affinity with people and wildlife, was a champion swimmer, snooker player, loved golf, still loves fishing and is also an artist. I hope you enjoy his recollections - cheers, karin (his daughter)
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When I was at Kingscliff I had this great idea about Cardboard Cutouts for the Police.
Put in a report and the idea was to be introduced for the cutouts of Police Officers to be placed in stores to prevent shoplifting.
At the last minute I was invited to a 'do' in Sydney with the Commissioner, etc, but couldn't go due to the short notice. I got a $200 chque from the Police Dept for the idea!
They were put in shops all over Australia and studies showed they reduced shoplifting a lot.They seem to be out of fashion now.
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When I was at Kingscliff I had this great idea about Cardboard Cutouts for the Police.
Put in a report and the idea was to be introduced for the cutouts of Police Officers to be placed in stores to prevent shoplifting.
At the last minute I was invited to a 'do' in Sydney with the Commissioner, etc, but couldn't go due to the short notice. I got a $200 chque from the Police Dept for the idea!
They were put in shops all over Australia and studies showed they reduced shoplifting a lot.They seem to be out of fashion now.
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