General News
27 June, 2025
'A delightful memory'
Bob Baker served in the AIF during World War II, where he reached the rank of Major but unfortunately contracted malaria and was sent home.
He bought a newsagency in Brunswick Street, North Fitzroy opposite the Edinburgh Gardens.
At the age of 11, I approached Mr Baker about being a delivery boy and was employed on trial.
My round involved 142 houses. Most of the occupants were battlers. There was no television and so the radio and daily papers were devoured.
At seven in the morning I loaded up my hessian bags attached to the frame and handlebars. Using lacquer bands made by cutting up old bicycle tubes, I could fit the 142 papers on one run. They were delivered in just over an hour, whereupon I had to scamble off to school.
On the corner of Nicholson Street opposite my school (St Brigid’s) was an imposing house with high vine-covered walls (Uncle Jim said the vine was deadly nightshade).
Every student believed the house was haunted and occupied by a witch. Those that had seen her (always dressed in black) were convinced and gave her house a wide berth.
Mr Baker paid the paper boys on Saturday night, but calculating the other boys’ payments in farthings, half-pennies etc wasn’t his forte, so he enlisted me to help. I could select a couple of comics as payment.
I had soon gained Mr Baker’s confidence and he enlisted me to visit the households that were behind in their payments for various reasons. It involved recording their debts in a notebook and visiting their houses to collect some or all that was owed.
This wasn’t a problem except that it involved visiting the haunted house.
Early Saturday morning I stopped outside the front gate and rang the bell. After several rings, I was about to leave when a cultured voice with an accent asked me to open the gate and come in.
I was petrified but walked to the front door onto the creaking verandah floorboards, and stood there like a fool when she beckoned me inside.
The house had a large passageway down the middle. The walls were covered with grand paintings of European countryside — I later found out that she was the artist.
On my left side I was summoned to come in. I was sure that my days were numbered as I entered a luxurious lounge room furnished with ornate antique furniture.
She sat behind a cedar table and politely invited me to sit opposite, then poured me a lemon cordial — which wasn’t a poisonous potion but actually quite delicious.
Her account was three shillings and nine pence. She gave me five shillings and refused any change — a tip of one shilling and three pence.
As she showed me to the door, I was stunned by her elegance and bearing. I rode off on my bike, floating on air. My mates continued to believe in their superstitions and I kept the reality to myself.
After several visits and a growing relationship, Anika (that was her name) asked if I knew a tradesperson who could do some maintenance.
My Auntie Pat’s home was always a hive of activity. Apart from Uncle Jim and her eight children, Pop (my grandfather) and Uncle Tom, it was a second home to many.
One of those was Ted Beatty, a boyish fellow and handyman who could fix anything both mechanical and electrical.
Ted was extremely shy. Auntie Pat believed he fancied her younger sister Marjorie, but wasn’t game to tell her. I was talking about the lady’s need for some maintenance when Ted volunteered to help.
The next day we visited the house, where Ted set about making his repairs. The house had been neglected, so Ted’s services were required on a regular basis.
Although a naive adolescent, I became aware of some subtle changes. Anika started wearing some coloured clothing — at first a cream blouse and some make-up.
Then Ted came to Auntie Pat’s in a state of euphoria, showing her a sparkling diamond ring. His intention was to propose to Anika.