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Introductory pages of 'A Barcoo Cocktail'

Text: Introductory pages of 'A Barcoo Cocktail'

from plowie, 07.10.08

The Merrigal station house was built by Frank (Plowie's father), Rod (Plowie's older brother) & John Plowman circa 1950. - Pedro fp

Text

Recollections, observations and anecdotes sifted from 45 years of the author's life at Yaraka in far western Queensland from 1926 to 1971.

Dedication

These stories are dedicated to the men and women of western Queensland, and to those of the Yaraka District in particular, who by sharing the griefs and the sorrows, the joys, the triumphs and the zest for living, contributed so much to my richly rewarding life at Merrigal.

Of them all, who could be greater than my own parents, Frank and Eva Plowman, who made it all possible, who set me on the straight path, and who showed me how to walk with a song in my soul, a spring in my step, and my head held high.

My thanks go to my daughter Niki, whose unfailing help and encouragement carried me through the bad times when this work might well have fallen by the wayside, and whose tireless proof reading helped to make coherence out of chaos.

My thanks also to Sue Johnson, Lyn Ride and others who convinced me that the stories were worth recording, and to Brian Priest whose professional assistance was vital to the ultimate success of the project.

Introduction

The aim of this collection of anecdotes and observations is to convey in some small measure the flavour of life in the Yaraka district of far western Queensland in the mid 1900's. It is in no way a personal history, nor is it a history of Yaraka or of the district generally.

Some background and personal history therefore is required to establish the reasons and circumstances which led to my father's acquisition of "Merrigal" in 1922, and to my later involvement in that property and with the Yaraka district.

My father's parents were English emigrants, and both were involved in medicine. Dad's father, Dr Sydney Plowman was for many years the resident M.D. at Frankston, Victoria, and lectured regularly at the Melbourne University.

My father, Frank was born at Frankston, Victoria, in 1895, and spent his early years exploring the seemingly endless, fascinating wilderness of the Mornington Peninsular.

He was educated at Geelong Grammar School, and then attended The Royal Military College, Duntroon. Graduating with Honours, he served the last year of World War One in France as an officer of the Royal Australian Light Horse Brigade. After the war he was posted as Area Officer to Bowen, then to Gympie, and finally to Toowoomba in the same role. There he met and married my mother.

My mother, Eva was the daughter of G.P. Barbour, the much loved Headmaster of Toowoomba Grammar School. He held that position for 25 years, until his retirement. Mother loved literature and music, and was a gifted pianist.

Regarding a military career in peacetime as pointless my father soon resigned and with memories of the Frankston bushland in his heart, he purchased "Merrigal" then called "Mill Plain", near Yaraka. This Knight-in-Shining-Armour then carried his blushing bride over the threshold of his 'castle', which consisted of four corrugated iron walls, a curved iron roof and a dirt floor. It had no lining or ceiling and no veranda. Cooking was done in camp ovens and billy-cans over an open fire-place which supplied hot water, central heating in winter and superheating in summer. The only other shade was two small trees about 30 yards (30 m) away. Shade temperatures commonly reached the high 40's, and could exceed 50° Celsius. Winter often fell to -40°. It was quite chilly behind a single layer of corrugated iron. There was no electricity, no refrigeration, no radio, no telephone and no motor car. Transport was by saddle or horse drawn buggy. The nearest doctor was 120 miles (almost 200 km) away. Quite a worry for a new bride! Mother went directly from a most sheltered and genteel environment to a life under some of the harshest conditions imaginable. In many cases, pioneering brides had some back-ground knowledge of that life. My mother had no conception of what it entailed.

The shock of it must have been appalling, but with the courage of a true pioneer Mother maintained her dignity, her spirit and her faith, and her great love for Father never wavered.

The first child, my brother Rodney was born in March 1924. Thereafter followed myself, a new Dodge 4 tourer and a water bore 2029 feet (over 600 m) deep, all in 1926. What a year that was! My sister Beth was born two years later, but survived for only two days. The Rh factor was known, but at that time counter measures had not been developed. Although my mother spent the last months of that pregnancy in Sydney under the watchful eye of her brother, Dr Eric Barbour, nothing could be done to save Beth. The life was harsh indeed, but with the hard work of my parents things gradually improved. More fences were built, and a shearing shed and shearers' quarters, where we lived except at shearing time. Cumbrous radio receivers with poor, static-laden reception gave at least a one way contact with the outside world. The Dodge had been a present from my Grandfather, G.P. Barbour. Other cars followed, only to give way to horse transport once again with the fuel shortages of the second World War.

After leaving boarding school, my brother Rod put his age up by a year to join the RAAF. He saw active service in England as a pilot with the all Australian night fighter Mosquito Squadron No 456. I was kicked out of Gatton College with all the others when the US Army took the place over for a military barracks in 1942. With wartime staff shortages most schools were full up, but Dad managed to get me squeezed in at his old school, Geelong Grammar. Wartime travel restrictions meant that I could get there but not back again, so I didn't see my parents for three years.

After leaving school at the end of 1944 I joined my father on Merrigal, and together we built the present homestead between the years of 1948 and '52. By then life at Merrigal had become much more civilised, chiefly through the continuing hard work of both my parents. When my father retired in 1958, Rod and his lovely wife Joan came to Merrigal with me, and we ran an excellent partnership until his tragic death in a one car, one person accident in 1968.

In 1970, after a long and painful illness which she so little deserved, my mother died at Buderim. Dad desperately needed to be cared for, so with the wool industry at its lowest ebb since the days of Captain McArthur, my loving faithful and hardworking wife Jacqui and I sold Merrigal for a pittance, and moved to Buderim to be with him. Father died three years later, within days of the anniversary of his beloved Eva, for whom he deeply grieved.

Now, 25 years after coming to Buderim I can recall accurately the great bulk of my life and experiences from earlier days, and in retrospect I count myself privileged to have spent my first 45 years in the Yaraka district.

It is my sincere hope that through these pages the reader may find some of the warmth and love that I feel for that country.

John Plowman, 1996

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Image of the Merrigal station house from a pen drawing by Sandy McLean.

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