State Library of Western Australia

READING SECRETLY UNDER THE BEDCLOTHES: THE HUMBLE BEGINNINGS OF OUR FIRST STATE ARCHIVIST

This story is based on an interview with Mollie Frances Lukis, the first Western Australian State archivist and first female State archivist in Australia.

I'm known as Mollie Lukis. My full name is Meroula Frances Fellowes Lukis. I was born at Donnybrook in the South West, in 1911. We lived at Balingup which is 25 miles further south.

There was no doctor in Balingup. My mother, who was 42 when I was born, wasn't really expected to have another child. My youngest brother was eight and the rest of the family were considerably older. My sister was eighteen when I was born.

My mother went to Donnybrook where they had a doctor. There was also a midwife there with whom she was supposed to stay but she found the place was so dirty she couldn't bear it. The doctor suggested to move into the hotel. So I was actually born in the Railway Hotel in Donnybrook.

My eldest brother went away in 1914 to the war, my second brother went in 1916.
I do vaguely remember when he left because we had a dairy and I was told I'd have to learn to milk. They got a very small stool and a small bucket and I did learn to milk to help take his place. I milked all the time while we were at Balingup, morning and night, which was an awful burden for a child.

Whenever I grumbled about anything I can remember my mother saying, “You must think of the poor boys in the trenches.” I got very sick of hearing about the boys in the trenches.

But the thing that does stand out was when my mother was accidentally informed that my eldest brother, who was in the Australian Flying Corps, had been shot down over in Egypt and killed.

I can remember very vividly – I had been with her to the post office – how we opened the letter on the way home. So that was a devastating thing until we actually heard that it was wrong.

There was another letter from a friend in the mail which they hadn't opened. It was from a nurse over there. She talked about my brother's plane being taken up by someone else and shot down and how fortunate it was he wasn't in it.

My brothers were complete strangers to me. It was a very lonely life for me because I was like an only child. The brother who was eight years older was away at school. I milked. I had a pony. The pony and the cows and my cat, were all pets to me. I used to have long conversations with the cows and the pony [laughs].

I didn't go to school in the ordinary sense. We were fortunate there was another family farming out of Balingup. Miss Connie Major had been in the Education Department. She had been well-educated before they came out here. She was able to teach me French.

My mother arranged for me to have two hours three days a week which is what I started with. But I think that someone reported to the Education Department that I wasn't attending school.

An inspector came to see how I was getting on. However, he found that I was getting on very well with six hours a week. Well with undivided attention of course, it does make a difference.

But mainly I was a lonely child. I was a tremendous reader. My father was always a very keen reader, but my mother believed that you shouldn't read in the daytime, and that you shouldn't waste your time. I suppose in a consequence of that I used to read secretly in bed under the bedclothes and sometimes I think in the morning when I wasn't supposed to be doing so.

I read everything that was in the house. We had a complete set which I suppose had belonged to my mother, of the novels of Walter Scott. I read them all, I think by the time I was ten. I learned very quickly how to skip what was dull and it stood me in good stead when I was studying in later years.

I read all the classics that we had, Scott and Dickens. There were a lot of my brother's books. I read Coral Island, all Ballantyne's books, that sort of thing.

I read everything that was available to read, and then of course I had suitable girls' books I suppose of the time: L M Montgomery and The Wide, Wide World which I can remember my mother reading to me before I could read. I lay in bed weeping while she read me this sad story.

My father used to keep an eye out sometimes. I can remember there was a book called The Sheikh, and he found me reading that and that was removed very rapidly. I think it was probably pretty harmless [laughs].

For my leaving year, I went to school at St Mary's in West Perth. I did enjoy those years at St Mary’s and I made some very good friends who are still my friends to this day. I was very shy at first.

Things were still financially difficult. We were all affected by the Depression. However, I think my mother particularly felt that if I wanted to have an academic education I should. By that time we had sold the farm. You see there were no fees for the university in those days. It was fairly reasonable, I mean, apart from the actual living and fares and things like that.

I studied at the Crawley Campus and I majored in English, French and maths. During university, I was teaching at a small school in Mount Lawley.

STAY TUNED for Part Two where Mollie gets her job as the first Western Australian State archivist.

SOURCE –
[Interview with Mollie Lukis] / [interviewed by Erica Harvey)
Lukis, Mollie, 1911-2009.
Oral History | 1992.
Available online (Call number: OH2527)

Horseshoe Bridge and the Railway Station, Perth, ca. 1905

Photo by E.G. Rome (017533PD)

Take a tour around a home built in Shelley in 1979!

Images: 328832PD – 328835PD

DEAR POP AND MA

In 1938-39, 29-year-old Alfred (Alf) Lee found work with BHP on Cockatoo Island (off the coast of WA near the town of Derby).

Five weeks into the job Alf wrote this letter to his Pop and Ma, a rare insight into mining and island life just as World War II was breaking.

Dear all,

The flies, mosquitoes, and food are crook, otherwise, it's not bad, bar for the two-mile walk to work and two miles back each day. We often kill a snake going to work, there hasn’t been anyone bitten by them.

How are you all keeping and how is your hand Ma where Peter [note: presumably the family dog] bit you? I always told you that you underfed him, he was so hungry he was eating a bit of your hand. Haha.

Are you doing alright at the business Pop, I certainly hope so. I’ll get a lot of chaps to get suits off you when we come down at Xmas.

They put the machine miners off and put the foreman, a 14-stone Swede, and myself in the Tunnel, and next week I take over charge of the machine and have a man working for me. I worked pretty hard when I got here in the first place and the boss picked me out for the job.

There’s a lot of nitwits and pommies here and there isn't one of them that I can’t beat at hard work, bar this big Swede foreman and we get along together about even.

He wants me to go in with him and buy a lugger later and go prospecting to New Guinea, but I don’t think I’ll be in it.

The iron stone is hard drilling but I think I’ll make some pretty good money. I am getting £6-10 a week and also on contract so I get the £6-10 and if I make any over I get it.

I am on the night shift at present. The other night we fired the gelignite and blew out the tunnel and went in too soon, the fumes caught us and we were crook for a while. It taught me a lesson not to go in too soon after we fire the gelignite.

We had sports last weekend, the Koolan Island men came over to our island. I won the weight putting [shot put] competition, the high jump, third in the heat in fancy diving, third in the 50 yards breastbone swim, and third in the 3-legged race, that wasn’t bad seeing it was out of about 60 men you reckon.

I had a letter from Jack Jenkinson, saying that I’d make more money down there than I would up here, but I’m staying here until Xmas.

This is the Broken Hill Proprietary Co I am working for, it’s the biggest iron and steel company in Australia.

I have let my beard grow. I'll get a photo later on and send it down to you, I don't look like a beast. By gee, I've been on the Island five weeks now, time soon passes.

How is Jim going [note: Jim or Jimmy was the nickname for his sister Alison studying dance in London], I never wrote to her as we never had a boat going in and thought maybe she would have left by the time my letter would have got there, remember me to her will you Ma and Pop.

How are all the folks, the Walshies, Mawles (?), and Lees? Remember me to all.
Well, hope this finds you in the pink of condition as it leaves me.

Your Affectionate Son,
Alf
(or the Red Bomber as they call me)

Several months later Alf wrote another letter to his Pop and Ma, expressing a brother’s concern for his sister, on the brink of World War II.

Dear All,

I wrote to Jimmy last mail, things don’t look too good for her over there, do they?

So Jack Jenkinson brought the car home, how does it look, and how are the tyres? By gee I’m dying to see the old bus again.

I just came back from a week's trip. We are going to sink a well and had to go to chop the timber, so we went to Cygnet Bay about 40 miles away.

When we got to Cygnet Bay we found there was no suitable timber there. The tide caught us and we had to stay there till the following afternoon until the tide came in again. Cygnet Bay was called after William Dampier (his boat being the Cygnet). We passed Sunday Island.

We then cut across the Sound to a place called the Graveyard. Called so because a lot of luggers have sunk there and many a diver is buried there. We found plenty of timber and loaded the lugger after a few days.

By gee, it was just alive with fish. I blew up 8 dozen sea mullets with one stick of gelignite and they were beauts. Plenty of sharks, turtles, stingrays, and alligators. I never saw any alligators out of the water. The sandflies were there in millions, also mosquitoes, flies and kangaroo ticks, spiders, and snakes. It is all mangroves along the water's edge and a mud bottom.

I’m getting a bit of an expert with the spears (plenty of misses of course). I sold the rifle for £5 the other week it is a bit too powerful for shooting around Perth, but it was a beauty. I shot a couple of goats with it.

The war news seems pretty bad at present eh.

How’s business Pop? I hope it’s on the improve. I suppose you are looking forward to Showtime [The Perth Royal Show]. I think we’ll have to build a launch when I come down. That will be in a couple of months now.

I haven’t been without a boil for 3 months now and am fast getting rid of a couple and another is coming on my leg.

It’s about time Jimmy came home, isn’t it. I told her so.

Well, how are the fowls and Peter Ma? I hope the chooks are not perching in the car.
Remember me to all Walshes, Lees and Mawles (?). I am going to write to them all mail. I will yet.

Well, so long folks, hoping you’re all ok. I’ll be hitting the cot…

Your Loving Son,
Alf

SOURCE - Letters, 1939 [manuscript].
Lee, Alfred, 1910-1985.
Archival | 1939
Available at 4th Floor Stack (Call number: ACC 6777A.)

THE LOVE BOAT

This story is based on the oral history of Edith Miller (nee Simpson) MBE.

My name is Edith May Miller and I was born in Perth, Western Australia in 1897.

My family lived in Mount Street, Claremont in quite an ordinary home really, with a big verandah all around it. We girls slept out on the side verandah and on Saturday mornings we all had special jobs to do. My job was to clean the teaspoons for which I was given a penny as pocket money.

"You know that penny could buy a terrific lot in those days. You could get a stick of liquorice with half of it, and four razzle-dazzle balls which would last a long time with the other."

In 1914 I went straight from Perth Modern School to teachers' college and during this time, I fell in love. I then taught at Claremont Primary School. On my first day of teaching, I was confronted with these children, quite big children, and must admit I thought "my Godfather how am I going to get on here", but I had no trouble.

In 1922 I broke off my engagement and wanted to get away. So with my father's blessing, I left teaching and went to Sydney and Melbourne to stay with friends.

I returned to Perth for Christmas on a coastal steamer. I don't remember its name but on the ship, I met this man. The man I finally married.

His name was Leslie Lewis Miller.

Les was acting like a goat when I first saw him, and I thought what a silly ass you are (laughs). He was rehearsing for a concert they were going to put on during the week trip.

I didn't meet him that day but I did meet him the next evening and we had a very innocuous drink together. I think he had a beer and I had a lemon squash.

We listened to a concert that was on in the saloon together. Then he saw me back to my cabin quietly and he said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

When I got into bed I thought "I like him." Mind you he was nine years older than me and I had only been mixing with boys of my age. I think I was attracted to his courteousness and the way he looked after me. Boys of my age were always nice-mannered but you were supposed to be able to get yourself along anywhere.

Les was the manager at Pardoo Station out from Port Hedland. He was on leave and been across to the Melbourne Cup. Indeed he should have been on the ship before mine, but had lost all his money on the race, had to wire for more, and take the next ship.

"It seemed that fate was on our side."

When we arrived in Fremantle, my family were all down to meet me of course, very thrilled that I was home again. Daddy said, "Where's your luggage?" I said, "It's over there," and Les was standing beside it. So I introduced him to them all, and with that, Les picked it up and took it off which appealed to Daddy. So I knew he'd got off on the right foot.

Well, Les was only in Perth another fortnight before he had to go back to Pardoo Station, and at the end of the fortnight, he asked me if I would marry him.

Well actually he didn't ask that, he tricked me a bit and the conversation went something like...

Les: "If I come down south again, can I see you?"
Me: "Oh yes, I'll be here."
Les: "You're not going east again?"
Me: "No, not east again."
Les: "That romance (referring to my ex-fiancee) is finished with, is it?"
Me: "Absolutely finished with, yes."

Then before he left he asked if I could contemplate coming up north to live? Well as the north sounded like such a fascinating place to me, it wasn't an effort to say that I would love to go there. He told me it wouldn't be the same as living in a townhouse, but if I did think I could manage it, he would love me to come.

After that, I asked my mother if I went up north if she would come and see me? She asked if I was serious, possibly thinking that perhaps having already broken off one engagement I might be making a habit of it. But I knew I was serious.

“It was quite a different romance altogether."

So we got engaged. Les went back up north and used to write to me. I only got sketchy mail because there was no mail service. The wedding was planned for May.
My father would say to me "Make sure dear, it's never too late to walk out of something". So I always knew he would stand behind me if I changed my mind, but I never had any doubts.

Just as Les got into Hedland to catch the ship to come down to our wedding (because there were no planes in those days), there was a cyclone and the ship bypassed Hedland.

Well, he was stumped there and one of my male friends told me, "Scrap him, scrap him! He doesn't love you, else he'd have put his trunk under his arm and swum for it!" [laughs].

Anyhow another ship called in and Les got to Perth.

"When I went down to the ship to meet him, and I looked at him and he put his arms around me. I thought, I'm right, there's nothing wrong here."

NOTE – Edith and Les went on to enjoy forty-seven years of a very happy married life.

The Millers managed Pardoo Station until 1924 when they moved to Warrawagine. In 1944 they proceeded to De Grey Station, finally buying Strelley Station in 1948. Edith was the President of the Women's Auxiliary of the Royal Flying Doctor Service from 1955 until 1980. She was awarded an MBE for her services to the community.

[Interview with Edith Miller] [sound recording]
[interviewed by Ronda Jamieson].
Miller, Edith, 1897-
Oral History | 1982.
Available Online (Call number: OH506)

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An enthusiastic crowd gathered at the State Library last week to launch our newest exhibition, Kinjarling Djinnang Ngalak | Country Sees Us.

Marking the 200-year commemoration of Kinjarling / Albany’s colonisation, this powerful exhibition draws on the State Library’s collection to highlight Kinjarling’s natural landscape. Centred around newly commissioned oral histories from Menang Elders, it encourages stillness, reflection and deep listening.

Kinjarling Djinnang Ngalak | Country Sees Us is open now at the State Library: https://slwa.wa.gov.au/whats-on/kinjarling-djinnang-ngalak

Did you know that the Mount Henry Bridge is the longest bridge in WA?

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JESSIE'S STORY – IN HER OWN WORDS

Today, on National Sorry Day, we remember the mistreatment of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people who were forcibly removed from their families and communities, and acknowledge the strength of Stolen Generation Survivors.

Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander viewers are advised that this post may contain images of deceased persons.

My name is Jessie Coyne, I was born in Carnarvon on the 10th of January 1918.

I was very small when I got taken away from my mother.

I don’t remember the year that I left Carnarvon and the boat, I think, was the MV Kangaroo or Kalinda. From there, I just sort of went onto the boat as if I was going to fairyland.

They took me from Middalya Station, and these other two children, Bill and Dora, were already in the police car.

I had no contact with my family when I went to Moore River.

I got real bitter at times, because nobody came to see me and there were lots of other little children there too, you know, kiddies, and they had nobody to come and see them. I felt absolutely neglected.

After a while, another little girl came and it was Dora’s young sister, Jean, but she died in Moore River.

She got double pneumonia, and if you wanted medical attention, you had to go to Moora, and that was a drive up and back. The doctor only came if you was really sick, but she’d already developed too much and they couldn’t save her.

We also had a lot of eye trouble, because the water wasn’t so good, and we got a lot of flus. What else did we get? A lot of stomach trouble.

It was just bread and fat in the morning, and porridge, then you had this watery soup. You never ever saw any meat. The bigger girls got that if there was any, which was very little.

We were hungry often, in the wintertime mostly I felt it because I think you ate more at wintertime.

In school, you only went up to fourth standard, nothing more. When you got to fourth standard, they said, “There’s nothing more we can teach you.”

But I liked a lot of reading. I used to like The People’s Travels, I found that very interesting. And a lot of things I picked up was the National Geographic magazines.
From there, most of them never had any education, and if they learned anything, well, they had to pick it up all themselves.

I had a few duties at Moore River. I worked in the hospital for a while, and I worked down the superintendent’s place, whenever they needed somebody. Sometimes I’d help out some of the other girls, I used to hand-wash everything, all the other kiddies’ clothing and the boys that sort of thing.

I had a go at sewing. Most of the clothes there were going up to the Forrest River Mission, and I don’t know if a lot went around to Kalgoorlie and all them other places. Other than that, well, you had no materials, no money to spend on yourself and you never had any warm clothes for the winters.

It was only twice a week that you got a change of clothing, and sometimes we’d be silly enough to go and play in mud. You’d have to wait until the mud dried off and then brush it off.

We used to play marbles, and somebody brought in an emu of all things, and he more or less grew up with the kids. The emu had a long neck, and he’d swallow the marbles you got, and we had no money to buy any more.

He wouldn’t go out of the compound anyhow, so we’d follow him around with a couple of sticks and go and look in his droppings and get all our marbles back again.

I met my husband, oh, must’ve been early ’36. We got married on the 2nd of August 1937. Fifty-five years we’ve been married.

We were supposed to have a double wedding at the little church. But the order came around to say that we had to get this ship to go up to Port Hedland, so they took us down to Gingin and got us married there, and we stayed in Gingin until the train came back down.

I forget what year we came down to Albany. After Lester was born in 1947. We were married 10 years before we had any children, and Lester is the eldest boy.

Just earlier this year, one of the kids, the youngest one, he said, “Mum, I seen you and Dad’s photo in the photo display of all from Moore River.” I said, “You didn’t.”
So we got into the car and we went down to the Aboriginal hall there, and it was, not only our photo but others too that got married up there.

We ordered a copy there, and they sent us back the photo. We were lucky to get it. And of course, all the family’s now got one each.

They said, “We’re going to have one each, and that’s that!” So, if any more gets lost, well, we can always get it from the two girls and four boys.

SOURCE – [Interview with Sydney (Syd) and Jessie Coyne (nee Fennell)] [sound recording] / [interviewed by Y. Choules].
Oral History | 1992.
Available Online (OH2335/7 Audio)