The Formative Years

It was the early 50’s that the Wetherall’s were able to buy their first car, before then we either walked or rode in trams. The depression years were tough for most families and unemployment was very high. People did what they could to earn a penny, some people found casual work for about five shillings a day and the basic wage for a good tradesman was around three to four pound a week. While the depression years were tough it did have an upside with families and friends all pitching in to help one another. A camaraderie was formed, mateship's developed, and the good old Aussie sense of humour and spirit flourished.

It was during these formative years that the foundations for my work ethics and principles of my life were formed and reinforced. It was also during these years that Australia came of age and just 20 odd years earlier the Anzac Spirit legend was born on the beaches of Gallipoli. This was also the time that the Australian Soldiers were fighting the Japanese on the Kokoda Trail. The battles on the Kokoda Trail became known as the battles that saved Australia. The young and inexperienced Militia soldiers were out numbered and out gunned but showed remarkable resolve and guts to slow the Japanese up before the arrival of the AIF. The courage, sacrifice, mateship and endurance showed by our soldiers on the Kokoda Trail has become a strong part of our culture and lifestyle. This so called Kokoda Spirit has been reproduced in our sporting teams and on the sports field all over the world. This was the time of the larrikin Australian soldier who demonstrated all the qualities and beliefs that Australia was renowned for around the World. These qualities and beliefs were courage, determination, mateship, loyalty a witty sense of humour, a general dislike of authority especially Pommy Generals and a ferocious fighting spirit only equalled by his passion for beer, women, sport and gambling.

A Simple Life

Living a simple life with my family, at an early age I became aware that my mother was doing it tough. Murdoch's was a large department store in the city, “which later became Walton's”. Murdoch's became my mothers agony in a way, yet at the same time enabled her to have some necessities, for which she was never out of debt. Salesman in those days were employed by Murdoch's to do door to door selling which was very convenient and very tempting. My birthday was always acknowledged by way of a birthday card, a little gimmick by the store I suspect.

In 1942 on a Saturday night the family would quite often go to the Vocalist picture theatre at Maroubra Junction. Saturday night was the big night out and these were very social nights, with groups of friends and families coming together to enjoy each others company. Family and friends would get dressed in their best outfits and walk into town or around to friends places. Our family was part of this Saturday night tradition and we would also get dressed in our best out fits and depending on the time of year we would all walk down to the theatre or jump on the local tram that rattled down the middle of Anzac Parade. The trams ran all over Sydney, our local line ran from La Perouse, Maroubra Beach and Maroubra Junction into the city. The trams were very much an essential part of the local areas infrastructure.

I was always looking for a new way to add some excitement to our families Saturday night outings. The picture theatre would have their best seats in the house reserved for VIPs or special guests. I was young and bold and came up with a plan to add some excitement to the evening. I would go and pay the nine pence for the privilege of sitting in the reserved seats for ten minutes. I had become friends with one of the Murdoch's salesmen who was also the usher on the door of the theatre. He became a good ally of mine and would hand me four pass out tickets which enabled my family to use the reserved seatings to have a great night out all for nine pence. It is hard to imagine how something like a free ticket could hold such a vivid memory.

The Early Years

I was born in Glebe on the 21st June 1930 during the great depression, my mothers maiden name was Clarice Lillian Levings. Mum was a country girl from Dubbo, in her childhood, growing up in the bush, she would help her father kill and skin rabbits to help put food on the table. Mum later on in her life become a tailoress for a firm of tailors in the city.

Much to my amazement I have a strong memory, as a eighteen months old child of going from Glebe to Maroubra Junction by tram with Mum and Dad, to see the wreck of the coastal steamer the “Malabar”. In 1931 it had gone aground on the rocks about a mile along the coast from South Maroubra Beach. Dad carried me all the way to the wreck.

Dad was named Alfred Thomas Wetherall, he was a city boy from Glebe. Dads trade was chrome plating. He worked for Woodward and Thurston in John’s Street, Glebe, many years later Dad purchased the factory.

They named me Kevin Alfred, the next three years we lived in Glebe until about 1934,
I also have a painful memory of falling off our 1st floor balcony in our terrace house in Glebe, during this period my mother would leave me at a church hall on her way to work; there I was looked after until mum finished work. I hated it, I would sit there all day on my own.

We then moved to Snape Street, Maroubra, then a few years later we made our final move to 86 Boyce Road, Maroubra Junction. When we moved to Maroubra I had a lady looking after me while my parents were at work, but she could not control me. I started roaming the streets, climbing down into the big concrete storm water drains and walking hundreds of yards underground. In our backyard there was a large tree, the lady looking after me would chase me with a strap to try and control me. I would climb the tree and refuse to come down.

Saturday mornings I would go with the older boys in the street to the milk depot on Bunnerong Road to the horse stables. There they would bag the horse manure, then place the bags onto their billycarts, they would then go around the streets of Maroubra selling the manure for sixpence a bag.

During the depression we were lucky with both my parents working. I can remember my mother cooking meals for those families not as fortunate as us. Looking at old photographs, I seemed to have the best of toys like a tricycle, a pedal motorcar and a pumped up tyre scooter which very few children had. Around this time my parents entered me in a children's contest which was run by a Sydney newspaper, I finished second and I still have the photographs from the contest in my top draw.

After school the kids in the area would all play cricket, football or marbles and we would play in the park, on the street or in someone's backyard. We were forever inventing new games or dreaming up new adventures to keep us busy until dark. There was always someone to play with or something to occupy our time. We did not need TV's, video games or personal mobile phones to entertain us. At school we played all sorts of sports and games and I would knock around with a number of kids at school. We had plenty of fights at school and would go behind the school buildings to wrestle, fight and punch each other out, and learned to get over it, no political correctness in those days.

After dinner the family would sit around the wireless listening to the plays, tell stories and just use our imagination. We would walk to friends homes either knock on their door or just wander around the back to play. We would build our own billy carts, then race them down the steepest hills in Maroubra, pushing each other to see who could be the fastest. There would be cuts, broken bones and broken carts, no-one to blame but ourselves.

The milkman and the baker would deliver their goods to your house with their faithful and reliable horse and cart following them down the street and the fruit and vegetable man would sell his freshly grown produce from his cart in the street. We even had the man selling freshly killed rabbits with the blood from the rabbits still fresh on his jumper. Legend has it this is how the mighty South Sydney Rabbitohs got their name. There was even a man that sold clothes props. In those days you would use the limbs from trees to hold your clothesline up. The days of refrigerators and freezers were just a dream and our meat and goods were kept cold and fresh in the icebox. The iceman would deliver our block ice to the back of the house and place the block of ice straight into our ice box.

In 1937 my mother’s sister Beatie married Perce Boardman at the Presbyterian church at Marourbra Junction where I was the page boy dressed in my blue suit. The reception was held in our home as there was very little money around and no one could afford anything else in those days. This was exciting for me as I had a brand new Uncle. Perce was your true Aussie battler, never having more then two pennies to rub together. He would go to the local Pawn broker and pawn his only suit to generate enough money, which would allow him to rent a horse and cart from the stables at Newtown. With his newly acquired horse and cart Perce would be down at Paddys Market very early in the pre dawn morning to buy fresh fruit and vegetables. With his cart full he would sell his goods around the streets of South Sydney. There were times during the School holidays when I would jump up on the cart with Perce and ride the streets around the area helping him sell his goods.

These were great times. Perce treated me like a son and I was very proud to ride the streets of the area with my Uncle Perce.

Fondest Memories

One of my fondest memories was as a 6 year old. Once a year, Dad and I would follow the drama and exploits of the cyclist in the Goulburn to Sydney bike race. Dad was keen on bike racing but never raced himself. We did this for 6 years from September 1936 until the storm clouds of war grew dark and menacing in1941 and the race was put on hold. Dad would bring home from his work a 1928 Whippet truck, and early on a Saturday morning Dad and I would drive out to Paddy’s River which was about 80 miles from Sydney where we would stop and boil the billy for our cup of tea, then follow the Goulburn to Sydney bike race all the way to the finish. These were wonderful days, the racing was exciting and I remember being amazed at the speed the cyclist reached as they pedalled the big gears onto glory in Sydney. “Over those years I witnessed some of the great road riders – Charlie Winterbottom, Alf Strom, Bill Moritz, Ossie Nickalson and Ernie Milliken were just a few of them.

I have seen some great finishes to road races in my time, but none as memorable as 50 odd riders sprinting down Joseph Street, Lidcombe, in the finish of the 1938 “Goulburn to Sydney.” The finish of the race saw riders across the road jostling for position as they swung their machines from side to side looking for the best position or best wheel to lead them out in the fast and furious dash to the finish line. After the race Dad and I would mingle with the riders behind the finish line and listen to their stories of hard luck or success. There would be jokes flying and tall stories told and friendly banter between the riders. What struck me was the camaraderie and friendship the riders had for each other, there was a real brotherhood amongst the riders even after competing, shoving and pushing each other over the entire course. On the drive home Dad and I would talk about the racing, the tactics and the riders and I knew then that I wanted to be a racing cyclist. I had caught the cycling bug.

In 1941 Dad and I followed the Goulburn to Sydney bike race for the last time before the dark shadow of war changed the world for ever. That day we saw some of the sports great amateur road riders, Alf Strom, George Moore, Harold Johnson, Frank Gould, Jack Gorrie, Linsie and Roger Arnold, George Bismire, Tommy Williams. After the war I would compete against some of those riders.

Back in those years, it was only for my dad taking me to the bike racing, that I decided I wanted to be a bike rider. It was the excitement and passion of watching those great riders in action. Little did I realise what was in front of me and just how tough and cruel this sport can be with all the suffering and sacrifices that I would make in the years ahead. At this point in time I had never ridden a bike and had no money to buy a bike. The years of the depression had ended, and even though both mum and dad were working, I would not ask them for the money to buy a bike. Even at my age I knew the value of money.

Sydney Sports Arena

I remember going with Dad to the Sydney Sports Arena where, on a seven lap to the mile indoor track, some of the best track riders in Australia competed before huge crowds.
I was 9 years old during the summer of 1939-40 and it was during this time that I experienced the excitement of seeing Joe Buckley team with Stan Parsons in a six day bike race at the Sydney Sports Arena. This was to be a never to be forgotten race, the Sports Arena was standing room only for the last hour of the race, the roar of the crowd was deafening and that night they gave Sydney bike fans the most exciting night in the history of the famous Arena. Every Saturday night in the summer months, dad and I would catch the 6 o’clock tram from Maroubra Junction to Riley Street, Surry Hills, then we would walk up a small hill to the Sydney Sports Arena. This was the home to some of the best cyclist in Australia.

The Sydney Sports Arena was a seven laps to the mile indoor velodrome with the track made out of timber. The first night that I went there and saw those large bunches of fast pedalling cyclist whirling around the track, it was like magic, I was drawn to it. Inside the velodrome it was hot, smoky and noisy and I was bumped and barged by a large and very vocal crowd. On those nights the big names of the era were on view. Lennie Rogers, Stan Parsons, Rex Oxford, Tommy O’Donnell, Ray Brooking, Charlie Parker, Hilton Bloomfield, Angus Starr and Joe Buckley were just a few of the big names, and the current master of all one Billy Guyatt.

Just in front of where we were sitting the riders would climb onto their bikes and strap their feet on to the pedals in preparation for the fast and furious action. I can remember that I shivered with apprehension at the riders apparent indifference to danger. I did not understand that strapping their feet to the pedals was essential for greater speed on their bikes. After all these years, my memory has dimmed to times and places but there are things that do stay in your mind, like the smoke from cigarettes, it appeared to me to be more prevalent than the oxygen in the air. Over the years, I never ceased to be amazed at the power of the mind, how it can retain an incident and bring it back to life by the sounds of a tune, an odour, or a voice. During the race nights they would play the latest wartime hit tunes over the loud speakers. I can still visualise those riders racing in the early forties. Young fearless warriors racing their steel horses against each other as they hurtled around the steep timbered track at break neck speed, the wild roar of the crowd, and the gasps of disbelief from the crowd as one of their favourite riders tumbles to the ground bringing 5 or 6 riders down with him, and the cheers from the crowd as their fallen idols regain their feet, dust themselves off, and prepare for the next battle.

I remember the floodlit track with the mechanics in the centre changing wheels and tuning bikes, the smell of liniment as the coaches and managers rubbed their prodigy's finely tuned muscles and the ringing of the bell, signalling the start of the last frantic and frenetic lap. I can still feel the excitement of those days now. The nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach, your heart begins to pound a little faster, your body twitches, your hands squirm as you fight to control the excitement that builds up. You speak in short excited sentences, your voice goes hoarse as you cheer your champion home, as he breaks free from the wall of riders, 10 abreast across the track, they thunder around the last bend, knees and legs pumping elbows flying as the bunch makes one last desperate lunge to catch the winner. Whenever I hear those tunes today it brings a smile to my face and lifts my spirits as I remember those halcyon days of arguably Australia’s greatest era of sport. After school I would watch the professionals training at the Sydney Sports Arena. Those days were some of the best in my life “just to mix with those riders and listen to their stories” was fantastic.

My School Days

My school days started in 1936 and finished on the 21st June 1945 with my entire school education spent at Maroubra Junction Public School. My first year my mother had to force me to go. I would scream and cry in the middle of Snape Street until my mother took me into the classroom, then my teacher Mrs Hinder would put her arm around me. I was the teachers pet. While in the infant school, I broke nearly every rule in the school and then I was nearly expelled for fighting the school bully when he tried to stand over me and a group of girls. I was sitting in the playground with a special friend Evelyn McCarthy when the bully approached. His mother went to the Headmistress, Mrs Bull complaining that her son was frightened to go back to school. Mum and I had to front the Headmistress over the incident; we were told if there were a next time I would be shown the door.
I fought the same bloke fifteen years later at Maroubra Surf Club for the same result, I gave him a hiding. Life at school for me was filled with plenty of adventures, mishaps and trouble with teachers. I was just an average student in all subjects and I just had no interest in learning. At sport there was a chance to have half a day off from school, so I decided to represent my school in every sport that I could, swimming, athletics, cricket and soccer.

I captained the primary school 1st grade rugby league team to a premiership, I won the public schools cross country running championship in 1942, but at that time I was not that interested in being a champion sportsman.

In 1937 my sister was born in the same Hospital in Glebe as me. My parents named her Helen Loretta. I can remember going with my father to visit my mother and new sister in a Whippet truck from his work and Dad would leave me in the truck while he visited mum. One night I was playing with the steering wheel when the horn on the truck went off outside the Hospital, lucky for me dad came running out and was able to turn it off. Mum in those early years was a very private person, in fact I cannot remember her having any close friends and I was never encouraged to bring any of my school friends home.

In 1939 I reached primary school but I was a dreamer. I always felt that there were plenty of years ahead for me to study so with both my parents working, there was never any pressure placed on me to study.

The next four years in the primary school was great. After school we would play football and cricket in the street and in Boyce Lane at the back of our street, we would have gang fights with the local catholic boys. In those years I competed in billy cart races on some
of the steepest hills around Maroubra and also raced in scooter races on Henson Park cycling track.

The Griffiths Brothers

There were times after school when a bunch of us would walk up to the quarry in Storey Street just up from the school. We had built a canoe out of galvanized iron and at either end we tarred the canoe so it would not leak and sink. We would take turns in paddling the canoe around the quarry where we would also jump from the cliffs bombing the canoe trying to sink it.

One afternoon the Griffiths brothers were in the canoe and we were bombing it. The brothers were not the brightest boys at school being just a little slow at learning. When the canoe started to sink they screamed for help. We all thought they were joking then they disappeared under the water and then there was panic, some ran for help, others just stood there. I dived into the water which was about fifteen feet deep. I found them at the bottom of the quarry and I tried hard to free their legs from the canoe. The force of the water had collapsed the sides of the canoe trapping their legs in a vice like grip. I kept diving until I was completely exhausted but there was nothing I could do. There was a police enquiry over the drowning and the verdict was a miss adventure, no blame to anyone. The police thanked me at school for my effort in trying to save the boys.
In 1942 in the school holidays a few of my mates and myself would go to Long Bay Rifle Range. It is now called Anzac Rifle Range and is where the American troops were training during the war. We would walk along Maroubra Beach to the southern end of the beach to the range which was heavily barbed wired as well as the beach. At the end of the beach we would walk around the cliff face and then climb up to the range. There we would find bullets and shells just lying there. Not worrying about the danger, we would souvenir a few and then walk back along the beach. One of my mates was throwing a shell up in the air and then catching it, until he let one drop. It exploded as it hit the sand and the shrapnel passed through his stomach and chest. He was dead before he hit the ground, it was a terrible sight blood and guts all over the sand.

As teenagers we went ice-skating at the Glaceariam down past central railway square on Broadway. On Saturday afternoons we would go to the local movies at Maroubra Junction either to the Amusu or Vocalist Theatres with our girlfriends. There were days that my mates and I would walk across to Eastlakes Golf course and swim in the dam and lakes there, we would also look for lost golf balls that had been hit by wayward golfers into the lakes. We would then sell the golf balls back to them for a pretty sum. On other days we would swim in a pond on the New Metropolitan Golf Club at Pagewood, the pond was near where the golf course crosses Heffron Road. The land for the Bonnie Doon Links at Kyeemagh was resumed because of the need to divert the Cooks River for the expansion of the Sydney airport. A merger was then arranged with the New Metropolitan Club, that the rights to the Pagewood golf course would transfer to the Bonnie Doon Club.

But at What Price?

We have lived at Monterey on Botany Bay since 1958 ten minutes from the airport and in those days, there were trams and trolley buses in Kogarah, Rockdale and Sans Souci. Its hard to visualize this now when you see the progress and infrastructure of the airport with the fly over's and tunnels and modern road works. In the early 40’s I road my bike around the old aerodrome, then across the old Cook’s River and the old draw bridge, then past the old shacks nestled in the sand hills along the edge of the bay. These were the days before the river was diverted through Tempe to allow for the expansion of the airport. In those early years, Wentworth Avenue, which ran past the old Mascot Bowling Club, was called the “Burma Road”. It was built by the Americans early in the 40’s. Now it’s apart of the main freeway from the airport to the city.

“I rode a bike for 60 years and as those years fade away, I have not forgotten the old days when we rode leather brooks seats on our bikes and raced in woollen jerseys”.
“We carried tyres around our shoulders in case of punctures. If you punctured in a race you would change your own tyre then chase after the field”. I joined various clubs and raced hard. But at what price? I paid a high price for any success. I had too many serious falls breaking my left leg, pelvis, skull twice, cheek bone, wrist, arm twice, elbow, shoulder twice, collarbone, three ribs and a punctured lung. At most times I was only racing for an open order worth 21 shillings”.

I only gave up racing with the N.S.W. Veterans in 1996 and actually stopped riding a bike in 2000. Now as a retired old bike rider, I often long to have my youth, not so much to race again, but to enjoy the company of the groups sitting on the grass between races at the tracks around Sydney, and the Sunday training rides when several hours of “ear bashing” and laughter was the order of the day.

My Pride and Joy

My parents were real battlers. They worked hard all their life and at the end, had very little to show for a lifetime of hard work.

We lived in a semi-detached cottage at 86 Boyce Road Maroubra Junction that we rented from L.J. Hooker. Les the rental clerk would ride his bicycle around on a Saturday morning to collect the rent. The land behind our house had been sold to the local garbage contractors, Decan and Howes who then built four tennis courts along the back of six semi-detached cottages in the street, making the back yards very small. On our back fence hung Dad’s old speedwell bike. It had been out in the weather for years and was just a heap of rust that appeared to be part of the garden, spiders and bugs had made it their home.

When I pulled the bike off the fence, I could see flecks of blue paint showing through the rusty frame. The wheels were those heavy rolled rims, the spokes were rusted and bent, the big balloon tyres were cracked and perished but my thoughts were that maybe I could clean the bike up and then ride it. In 1941 I now had my own “very rusty old Speedwell”

The next few weeks I worked hard restoring the bike. It was a tough job but at last it was finished. I then pumped the tyres up and was lucky they stayed up. I was a dreamer. My thoughts were this is my racing bike and I was proud of it. After learning to ride the bike I would then challenge anyone with a bike to race me around our local block. I used to think that I was one of the professionals that I watched racing on the Sports Arena. I took lots of risks and soon found out how hard the road was, losing lots of skin.

During the 1942 Christmas school holidays, I was riding my bike around Maroubra with one of my mates Jack Chant. We were racing down Beatty Street which was a very steep hill on to Fitzgerald Ave and as we crossed onto Fitzgerald Ave, Jack was hit by an army truck narrowly missing me. Jack was thrown over the truck crashing heavily on to the road. When I reached him his body was all twisted up and his legs were folded up under his body, he must have died on impact. That day his mother had just bought him his new uniform for Sydney Boys High School.

During the school holidays I decided to ride to National Park, there and back was about fifty miles. My ride took me past the old Mascot aerodrome along the edge of Botany Bay to Bridgton-Le-Sands, then turned up to Rockdale onto the Princes Hwy and headed south for National Park. I had no idea where it was. On reaching Tom Ugly’s Bridge over the Georges River I had to pay a penny toll, but I had no money. He let me go through and asked me where I was going. When I told him, his reply was “it’s too far for you, turn around and go home”. But I was determined to make it so I just kept going, finally making it to the river it was a very tough climb out of the park. On the way home I decided to ride out to Cronulla and then come back along Taren Point Road. In those days the road was not much better than a track. On reaching the Georges River, I then caught the punt across to Sans Souci then finally making it home to Maroubra.

I was very lucky as just after the ride the old bike just gave up and fell apart, that left an eleven-year-old boy without a bike. During the short period that I had the old speedwell bike, in those summer months I would ride into the Sydney Sports Arena at Surry Hills and watch the professional bike riders train, just to mix with those riders and listen to their stories of past deeds was very memorable.

Australian Air League

In 1941, I joined the Australian Air League at Maroubra where they would meet in a large fibro garage in Gale Lane every Wednesday night. I had a great time passing all of my exams and finished up a squadron leader. I had my first flight in an aeroplane which was a Tiger Moth. We took off from the old Mascot aerodrome and flew all over Sydney but I do not remember landing, I was that sick, that I just wanted to lay down and die. The Air League was going to Melbourne and I wanted to make the trip, but once again the old story no money, so I decided to get myself a job to pay for the trip. The local paper shop wanted a boy to deliver newspapers of a morning. I applied for the position and Mr Doug O’Neil the owner gave me the job. My wages for seven mornings a week was twelve shillings and sixpence. Mr O’Neil was also a Qantas pilot flying to Lord Howe Island a couple times a week so when he had an early flight, I would stay back after my paper run and look after the shop until Mrs O’Neil came in. This was my first job but I was full of confidence and just enjoyed the responsibility that Mr O’Neil had in me. During those days I was always late for school.

My day would start at 4.00 am. That’s when I climbed out of bed and then headed for the paper shop, my first job was to bring the bundles of newspapers off the footpath and into the shop. While I opened up the bundles of papers, Mr O’Neil would make two big mugs of tea, plus slices of bread covered in blackberry jam. This was my high point of the day. We would then roll the newspapers up for the delivery run, then I would place the rolled up papers into a large cardboard box, then place the box into a steel basket on the front of a delivery bike, I would start my paper run. Throwing the papers from the bike as I rode down the streets of Maroubra and Kingsford, I would probably have about a hundred customers on my run. The paper run provided me with enough money for my trip to Melbourne with the Air League. I was also able to buy a Malvern Star bike which was just a heavy road star with rolled rims, and big balloon tyres on it. That’s all I could afford but this bike would last me until 1944. Dad had the frame of the bike copper plated but if you did not polish it every day it would go a green colour.

The trip by train to Melbourne was great and on reaching our destination, my mate Kevin Bell and myself were met at the station by my uncle Harry and Auntie Metta and my two girl cousins Betty and Jean. We stayed with them for the weekend and they gave us a great time. The Air League took us to Fishermans Bend where we saw the fighters planes being made and tested and we all felt very important as if we were the future of the Australian Air Force. Then on the Sunday all the squadrons of the Australian Air League with their mass bands marched through the centre of Melbourne in front of a very large crowd. I had tears in my eyes, it was just great. Then on the train coming back to Sydney we were involved in a brawl with another squadron of the Air League over the seating in our carriage. During the fight my head hit the window of the train and I finished the journey back to Sydney in the first aid carriage with a hairline facture of the skull. A few weeks after I was back at work at the paper shop.

Paper Run

One Saturday morning I had just finished my paper run when my boss Mr O’Neil, asked me on my way home would I deliver a paper to a house in Storey Street, Maroubra. I just jumped onto the bike and away I went riding down the street no hands on the handle bars reading the paper, the next thing I was flying through the air and crashing head first on to the road, the brake handle had slipped off the handle bars and tangled in the front wheel of the bike. A trip by ambulance to Prince Henry Hospital with a broken arm, fourteen stitches placed in a cut on my head, the skin on my left knee had been sliced off and that had to be stitched back on to my knee. This was to cost me about six weeks’ away from school and my paper run.

I was only back a short while on my paper run when I ran into trouble again. When I was delivering papers at Kingsford, I threw a paper onto the roof of a house instead of the veranda. It was a long way back to the paper shop and it was my last paper so I decided to climb up onto the roof and retrieve the paper. There was no problems climbing up onto the roof but coming down I slipped and fell about fifteen feet, smashing both of my feet. They were a bloody mess, bones were broken and the arch in both feet were destroyed. The people in the house called the ambulance. I was then taken to Prince Henry Hospital and after many x-rays my feet were put in a plaster cast up to my knee for the next eight weeks. At the age of twelve this would affect me for the rest of my life. My feet were never the same again, my toes went out of shape and wearing shoes especially those narrow bike shoes my feet would hurt like hell. My parents did their best for me by sending me to an orthopaedic specialist, but those days they were not advanced enough to fix my feet. In 1984 orthopaedic specialist Professor Dr Bill Cummings operated on my feet and made my toes straight with plastic joints after taking out the destroyed bone joints, I was on my back for three months.

Mr O’Neil, my boss from the paper shop could not hold my job open for me with my time away from work with injuries, so I went to work for Stewarts paper shop on the corner of Anzac Parade and Maroubra Road. I was not happy there, the Stewart family I disliked. Mr O’Neil came to see me offering me a job selling papers on the trams of a morning. I jumped at this opportunity and was soon selling over two hundred papers a morning on the trams. Then one morning a man was waiting for me at the tram stop at Botany Road and introduced himself to me as Mr Taylor who owned the paper shop at Kingsford. I was told that I was encroaching on his paper boys territory, and they were losing paper sales. To my surprise he offered me a job selling papers on the trams and then in the afternoon selling papers in the Hotel at Kingsford till 6.00 p.m. When the Hotel closed, I agreed to take the position with Mr Taylor.

There were four other boys working the trams also, so the competition was tough and that’s how I liked it. I proved that I was the best with the Hotel of an afternoon, I was earning at least five to six pound a week plus ‘tips’ which would run into couple of pound a week. Early in 1945 while trying to step around the tram conductor on the side of the tram, I slipped and fell backwards onto the road breaking my left wrist. I can remember my mum screaming when they took me home with my arm in plaster.

Early in 1942 still only eleven with the war raging in the Pacific, I put my age up and joined the National Emergency Service as a runner. If the communications failed in an air raid I was to carry messages to other warden’s posts. I was on duty when the Japs raided Sydney Harbour. Just after the raid I joined the Coastal Watch and would be on duty every Sunday night on the roof of a two-storey house on Maroubra Bay Road overlooking the beach. During the night I would report all ship and aeroplane movements to a control centre, that was my war effort.

About this time I out grew the Australian Air League. It became very boring, besides I was too busy earning money by selling papers on the trams and in the hotel of an afternoon. My school work was suffering. In class, I would sit up the back and take no interest in what was going on. There were other days I would wag school and go for a ride on my bike. My biggest problem was dodging the truant inspector who tried very hard to catch me. I was always off side with the headmaster who was happy to put me down in front of the school assembly. Later on I was able to turn the tables on him when he asked me the wrong question in front of the school.

Redfern Cycling Club

Late in 1941, I started to race with Redfern Cycling Club. They held their club races during the summer months on a new estate about a mile from where I lived. That day I arrived at the starting area a very nervous eleven year old, it was packed with cyclists, some pumping up their tyres, others adjusting their bikes. There was a smell in the air a pungent odour of embrocation, over the years ahead I would become accustom to the smell. I rode up to where the officials were standing and asked them could I have a start. One of the officials gave me a grin but they were a little reluctant to give me an answer. The big problem was that I was too young, most of the riders that afternoon were in their twenties, finally they told me I could have a start. They decided to tolerate this eleven year old, maybe in a couple of weeks I would go away and not come back.

At the time my father was against me racing because of my age. He wanted me to wait until I was older, so for the first year my parents were not aware that I was racing with Redfern.

I often wonder what those officials’ thoughts were that afternoon, when I rode my Malvern Star bike. My bike and outfit was a far cry from those light racing bikes and their woollen racing jerseys with their shorts, they wore white socks and black bike shoes, the riders muscular legs glistened with embrocation. That day I wore baggy khaki shorts, a white cotton school shirt, a pair of old black school shoes. I had taken the heels off them, to make them look like bike shoes, across the soles of the shoes I tacked leather strips to ensure that my feet had a firm grip on the pedals, this would be my bike shoes for a long time.

There were Saturday afternoons in the summer that we would race on Redfern Oval on the grass around the football field. It was a great afternoon of racing and the last race was always a team race. Me being a complete novice, they would team me with Frank Selby who was one of the elite riders racing on the Sports Arena. Later on in the season I would get my chance to race on the Sports Arena in novice races before the main program started.

Just after joining the Redfern Cycling Club, I went to their general meeting which was held in Bourke Street Redfern in a semi-detached house just off Cleveland Street. When I walked into the meeting it was crowded with riders and officials. The atmosphere was tense and there were arguments all over the room and I was about to walk out as I felt I should not be there. This was no ordinary meeting, this was over money owing to the cyclists that management of the Sydney Sports Arena has not paid. All of a sudden the room exploded into a wild brawl, I was scared, people were being knocked to the ground then they were being kicked as they lay there. It spread to the footpath and there were many serious threats being made, the brawl seemed to last forever.

What a great start to my cycling career. As an eleven year old, I saw the dark side of cycling and over the years ahead the sport never changed. It was a tough sport where riders would do anything to win a quid.

Redfern, with four other clubs had broken away from the N.S.W. Amateur Cycling Union. The clubs involved in the breakaway were then declared to the professionals, so at the tender age of eleven, I was the youngest professional bike rider in Australia. The reason for the clubs leaving the Cycling Union was that a large number of elite amateur cyclists wanted to compete on the same program as the professionals who were racing on the Sydney Sports Arena every Saturday night in front of huge crowds that were flocking to watch Australia’s top professionals in action. The five clubs that had broken away then formed the Australian Cycling Association. This lasted till 1948, about the same time as the Sports Arena was closed up and sold.

Those early years I never showed any real talent but it never worried me that I was not winning races, what I was lacking in ability I made up with my determination to make it to the top of the cycling world. In those early years, I gained a wealth of experience by just mixing with all those bike riders and listening to their stories of the old days in an era that only the tough survived. They taught me how to handle my bike in those big bunch finishes, and to be able to position myself for the final sprint to the line. To me, nothing can be more addictive than a sport that allows you to be yourself and at the same time, comes camaraderie with all the other riders who are experiencing it for the first time too.

Mum’s Sunday Roast

Every Sunday morning I would go to Sunday school at the Presbyterian Church in Robey Street, Maroubra Junction. When I came home from Sunday school I would help Mum prepare our Sunday dinner. My first job was to shell the peas then I would make the short crust pastry for the apple pie. Mum would bake a leg of hogget then bake potatoes which were crusty on the outside and soft in the middle, pumpkin, peas and gravy, it was great. Then the apple pie and custard, there was no way that I would ever miss my Sunday dinner.

After lunch I would ride my bike out to Wiley Park which was about twenty miles from home where I would compete in the Sunday afternoon track carnival. On reaching the track I would take the brakes off my bike to allow me to use my bike on the track. After all that trouble I would be lucky to get two rides in the afternoon. Before each race I would have to borrow a crash helmet, this was always a great embarrassment to me asking riders could I borrow their helmet. I could not afford the money to buy one as all the money I earned selling papers I gave to my mum. After the carnival ended with no wins I would put the brakes back on my bike for the ride home.

During the winter months I would get my first taste of road racing. I was still riding my Malvern Star bike. The road races were held on two courses, one was at Milperra, the other was at Maroubra. When we raced at Milperra the club would meet at
Gino Bambagiotte’s shop and we would all ride out to the course together. After the races we would all ride back in a large bunch with lots of stories about the racing. As a twelve year old I was riding at least sixty miles with the race and riding to the race and then back home.

That year I first met Gino Bambagiotte ‘wild man on a bike’ he was a former Italian professional track champion who was involved with the Redfern Club. Gino owned a bike shop in Cleveland Street Surry Hills. The shop was only about a hundred yards from the Sports Arena and being so close to the track, it kept Gino very busy. Gino’s shop was a very popular meeting spot for cyclists and I spent a great deal of time there. Gino took a liking to me and started to train me. Mum got very upset when I gave up going to Sunday school. My mum wanted me to be a Presbyterian Minister, but I wanted to train with Gino and a large bunch of riders who would meet every Sunday morning at 7.00 a.m. at Gino’s shop. We would then ride out to Liverpool, past the Cross Roads Hotel, then on to Campbelltown, across to Narellan, then out the back of Leppington, then back along the Hume Hwy to Woodville Road then to Parramatta, and then back to Redfern. I would then ride home to Maroubra for my Sunday dinner.
Those training rides taught me how to win races and how to train the correct way. I was soon winning races in my division although I was probably too young to be training with mature bike riders. I was old at fourteen and my mates at the same age were still playing in the streets after school.

Mascot Amateur Cycling Club

During 1944 at the finish of a road race at Milperra, I fell breaking my right elbow in three places and then riding home to Maroubra. Two months later at the start of the track season I was involved in a mass pile up on the Sports Arena when about twenty bike riders fell just after leaving the main straight on the northern bank of the track. I was thrown down the bank on to the duck board at the bottom of the track. My bike broke in half, my left leg was broken, there was fluid on my right knee, and splinters all over my body. This kept me out of school and racing for about two months.

After my fall on the Arena I badly needed a bike and dad to my surprise, sold his golf clubs and bought a second hand bike off a workmate. Dad did not have a clue about bikes and this one was far too small for me, but we had no money so I continued to race on it until the end of the 1945 season. About this time Gino advised me to join the N.S.W. Amateur Cycling Union. At this period of my cycling he thought that I had a future to represent my country as an amateur cyclist.

So I joined Mascot Amateur Cycling Club who held their club races on a Saturday afternoon on Wentworth Ave, Mascot. The club was full of tradition with some of the great road riders of the 30’s being members of the club. The start and finish was near the Mascot Bowling Club which has now closed its doors. They rode an out and back course turning at the junction of Bunnerong Road and Anzac Pde at La-Perouse then back to Mascot about ten miles. The seniors would race sixty miles, juniors twenty miles, juveniles five miles they would turn at the Fire Station at Matraville. Rosebery Cycling Club rode the same course along side of Mascot Club.

There I spoke to Mr George Gurney the club secretary telling him my history while racing with Redfern and what Gino Bambagiotte had advised me to do. Mr Gurney had to make application to the N.S.W. Amateur Cycling Union for me to be reinstated to the amateur ranks. I was only fourteen and knew no better, I had just started to ride with a group of riders at Pagewood at the early age of eleven.

While I was suspended I continued to race with Redfern and during the 1945 road season I won the Australian Cycling Association Road Championship in my division. My six months suspension ended in July 1945 and I then started to race with Mascots juveniles. After two rides Mr Gurney was impressed with my riding and he told me that the State Juvenile Championship was to be held in August, but entries had closed. Mr Gurney managed to get me a start but I was not on the program, my number was 91. In a mass sprint of ninety riders, the finish was on the Hume Hwy outside the Liverpool ice works with my wheel hitting the finishing line first but the officials placed me in fourth position.

After the disappointment of being placed fourth after I had been congratulated for winning it, my next assignments was the Club Mass Start Championship, which I finished first, and the Time Trial Championship breaking the course record.

Over the next few years I would miss Gino Bambagiottes Sunday training rides and his advice. If I had stayed with Gino I would have been a better bike rider.

During my juvenile track career I cannot remember that I would have raced as much as possible, but while going through some 1946 newspaper clippings I found this article. The N.S.W. Juvenile Half Mile Championship was won by P. Dyer, V. Carne second K. Wetherall third, this race proved to be one of the best races of the season, attracting no less than 47 entries and from eight qualifying heats to the final, was a keen race throughout. The five riders in the final all finished within a bicycle length.

Jim Sharman’s Boxing Tent

From 1941 till I left school in 1945 I was working delivering newspapers or selling papers on the trams, then selling papers in the Hotel in the afternoon. I was also a Telegram messenger boy at Maroubra Junction Post Office. Those days I rode those heavy postal bikes around the hills of Maroubra and during the Christmas school holidays I would take a full time job. The first week I worked at Bevarfalds a department store in the city, the rest of the holidays I worked in a factory at Mascot called “Willow” that made tin ware.

At the Royal Easter Show in 1945, I was there with a few of my school mates who were all from Yarra Bay boys home. They were a rough lot, but at the time were very good mates of mine. We were wandering around the side shows when we came across Jim Sharman’s boxing tent. He had all of his fighters up on the stage in front of the tent and one of them was beating a drum. Jim Sharman was calling out for someone to step up and take a glove and fight one of his boys. My mates always acted tough always picking fights at school but as individuals they were weak. So I took up the challenge (little did they know that in 1944 I joined Wooloomooloo Police Boys Club and that’s where I learnt to box. During my time there I fought Jimmy Carruthers who out pointed me in a three rounder and later on Jim won the World Bantam Weight Championship. I never wanted to be a fighter the passion was not there).

I was then taken inside the boxing tent and the fella that I was to fight looked tough and ugly. He was a half cast aboriginal with a flattened nose and he was about twenty five years old. Sharman was a great showman. He built the excitement in the crowd by telling them that I was a young boy from the bush trying to make it in the big city so come in and support him. I can remember sitting in my corner before the fight wondering what I was doing there. I was only fourteen. The fight was over in three rounds. If I stayed on my feet for the three rounds they would pay me three pound. During the fight I crowded him all the time and never gave him a chance to put me down. I was awarded the fight with the help of the crowd who cheered for me at the end of each round.

Schools Out

On the 21st June 1945 I turned fifteen. During that week the Headmaster of Maroubra Junction School called me into his office and wasted no time and got straight to the point. He told me that I was wasting his time and my time staying at school. I really could not blame him as I was never there, also we had a mutual dislike for each other. I turned my back on him and walked out of school and would never go back. I then walked across to the Storey Street tram stop where I caught the tram into the city. By midday I was working for Bennett and Woods manufacturer of Speedwell bikes who were on the corner of Bathurst and Pitt Street in the city. I started that afternoon as a wheel builder. It was a tough job as I had to build twenty one pairs of wheels a day. My take home pay was twenty eight shillings and sixpence a week and I was earning twice as much selling papers. That night after dinner I told my parents that I had been kicked out of school.

While working there I met Duncan Gray, a legend in Australian Cycling. We would often sit down in the factory and have lunch together. After I finished work I would wait for him and then ride a few miles with him on his way home although it was in the wrong direction for me. Six months later I became an apprentice pastry cook at the Swiss Cake Shop in Anzac Pde Maroubra Junction where I would waste five years of my life learning nothing about pastry cooking. It would be later on in my life that I would reach the top of my trade.

In 1946 I was able to buy a new bike on time payment from Russ Tollis who owned a bike shop in Kings Street Mascot. It was just a light weight bike with endric rims and would be the first of numerous bikes that Russ would build for me during my cycling career. Russ and myself became very good friends and on a Friday afternoon he would take my bike, clean it and tune it, and make sure everything was working before I raced on Saturdays.

During the track season we would hold our track races on Henson Park which was a three laps to the mile bitumen track and we would share the track with five other clubs. Monday nights was training for all clubs, those nights there would be over a hundred riders on the track at one time. Wednesday nights the five clubs would hold their club races and after they finished all the clubs would combine for a great night of racing. Open racing would be held at the weekends with all the city tracks being used and riders from all over N.S.W. competing. Occasionally we would race at Wollongong or Newcastle, both cities having excellent tracks.

At the start of the 1946 road season my dad became Assistant Secretary and Handicapper of Mascot Cycling Club and over a decade did a great job for the club. Dad was also an official with the N.S.W. Amateur Cycling Union and was a judge at all the road and track carnivals in N.S.W. In 1949 he was the chief judge for the Empire Games test races and the Australian Road Championship in Sydney. During the 1950’s dad turned to lawn bowling with a great deal of success. He played for Kensington South Coogee, South Maroubra, then finally Hillsdale where he passed away while still an active member of the club.

Deadmans' Creek

In club and combine races on the road I was riding off the scratch mark and I was gaining fastest time in most of the handicap races. In club scratch races I was unbeaten. The first open road race of the season was held at Milperra The start and finishing line was on a very narrow Milperra Road with two sections of dirt road over the last three miles, the course went to the top of the Gorge at Heathcote then back to Milperra. That day the juniors rode a twenty five mile handicap with sixty nine starters. Dad borrowed a pair of high pressure wheels off a work mate, we picked the wheels up on the way to the race. I had never ridden a bike with light wheels, it felt like the bike was floating away from me.
It was a tough race and on our way back to Milperra, we had just climbed the hill out of Deadmans' Creek about five miles to the finish where I had just finished a hard turn of pace at the front of the bunch and then dropped back to the rear and I had my head down as I followed the wheel in front of me. The next thing I remember was waking up in Canterbury Hospital. There had been a fall with most of the bunch being involved but they were all able to continue in the race. A passing motorist found me unconscious on the road and he put me in his car and took me to Milperra where the officials called an ambulance.

I was taken to Canterbury Hospital with serious head injuries and most of my skin had been torn from my legs and shoulder. We had fallen on a freshly gravelled road. They placed me in the intensive care ward for a week and was home for three days when I broke out in large blisters all over my face and body. They found out after many test that I was allergic to the penicillin injections that they had pumped into my body and the doctors tried for months to cure me as it was badly affecting my system.

After my fall in the Angus and Coote Open, I made my come back in club and combined races, but I was not showing any ability at all. June the 22nd, the day after my sixteenth birthday, I rode in the Sutherland Annual Open and I was lucky to finish in the leading bunch. I struggled all the way and after the race I sat in the gutter exhausted and covered in blisters. The Advance Inter-Club Teams Road Championship was held on the 6th July at Milperra and was sponsored by Nock and Kirby. Riding in the Mascots junior team, I contributed very little to the teams effort we finished out of a place. The Bennett and Wood Speedwell Open took place on the 27th July and was held on the Cross Roads – Narellan Campbelltown course, a circuit of twenty six miles. In the finishing stage of the race there was a break of eight riders from the main bunch, I was with them as we climbed Cottage Hill on the Campbelltown Road on the run in to the finish at the Cross Roads Hotel, but in the sprint I finished out of a place.

The next open that I rode in was on the 10th August. It was the Liverpool to Narellan return and the finish was outside the Liverpool Ice Works on the Hume Hwy. In a bunch finish I was not willing to have a go and finished at the tail of the field. The following week over the same course we rode the N.S.W. Advance Junior Road Championship in a very rough finish with riders switching all over the road. I was very hesitant over the last two hundred yards but I was lucky and managed to get a run on the inside of the road to win the title. Mascot’s Club championships, the Mass Start Championship, I finished third. Jack Nelson won from Alby Baker. I won the Time Trial Championship from Jack Nelson and Dave Burnett third.

At work my boss disliked my bike racing and would make it very hard for me on a Saturday morning to finish on time to allow me to race. He claimed it was only a small shop and every time I was injured it would put extra work on to him. I should have left and then gone to a larger shop, but at sixteen I did not seem to have the ability or maybe I was a little scared to make a decision on my future.

With all my problems at work, no money and the fall, I had to try and reconstruct my cycling career that twelve months ago had looked so promising even after winning the state title. I felt my form had slumped to an all time low ‘I just lost it’, I could not finish a race without breaking out in blisters and my confidence was shattered. I did a lot of soul searching, I was looking for answers. After the fall I was never at ease in large bunches, I was not facing the stress of competition, but I was stressed by the uncertainty surrounding my comeback to racing. Even if I was successful, the fear of another bad fall was still haunting me as I had been very lucky to have walked away from the last one. Finally on doctors advice, I was forced out of cycling and at that period, my future looked bleak.

Sun and Surf

So for the next three months I spent my time just relaxing in the sun and surfing on Maroubra Beach. Wednesday nights I would ride over to Henson Park with my mates and would just enjoy the company with the other riders sitting on the grass, talking and having a laugh during the nights racing, then on the way home a stop at Nash’s Milk Bar on Gardiners Road, Mascot for milk shakes and ice cream with chocolate sauce. Over those early years I was very lucky to be involved in a sport as three boys that I went to school with were arrested for stealing motor bikes and then taking parts off the bikes to sell to the public. One of the boys hung himself in his parents garage in Boyce Rd not far from where I lived.

After three months away from racing I was finding it very hard to focus on the forth coming road season as this was my last year of being a junior, it is very easy to come lazy and not wanting to train anymore, and just enjoy life.

Scratch Marker

In 1947 I met Brian Haydon who rode for the Botany Club. Over the next nine years Brian and myself would share the scratch mark in open and combine handicap races. It was hard to say who was the most successful. In the late 40’s we were riding so well that a Sydney newspaper wrote a story on our cycling career. Brian in the late fifties became one of the leading amateur and then professional road riders in Australia. I would have loved to turn pro and raced against all those great bike riders in the late fifties, but I would compete against then on the veteran scene in the 1980’s.

On June 7th was the first road open of the season, it was the Angus and Coote twenty five mile junior handicap. That day we were giving huge starts away to the limit riders, with three miles to go the field came together on a rough section of dirt road, we immediately attacked the large bunch achieving the desired affect of breaking the field up. With a mile to go, the field was spread across the narrow Milperra Road as riders pushed and shoved their way through the bunch. This was not a finish for the faint hearted, it would have been better to sit back and wait for another day but I felt great, this was my chance to win the first open of the season. With about a hundred yards to go there was a fall and I could not miss it. When I hit the road I broke my right arm, suffered concussion, abrasions, and a trip to Canterbury Hospital. The fall nearly cost me my apprenticeship and my boss applied to the N.S.W. Apprenticeship Council to have my apprenticeship terminated. The reasons he gave was that I was away from work too much because of injuries from bike racing but the Council rejected his claim. He was a lousy boss, I was wasting my time being there and I was not learning anything about pastry cooking. I was a cleaner in the bake house. If they had dismissed me my life might have been different. Work was really interfering with my cycling and those long hours on a Saturday morning were affecting my legs and they ached all the time. I was always battling to get to the road opens on time and this was affecting my performances in races.

The Future

What to do about my future, I had no idea. I had the ability to be a good bike rider but my parents never advised me about my future and I was left to work it out for myself. The N.S.W. Junior Teams Road Premiership was held on June 28th and I rode with the Mascot team with my broken arm still in plaster, we rode very well to finish in third place. Then in the Camden Open on the 19th July still with my arm in plaster we rode a twenty mile handicap where I won the bunch sprint into Camden also gaining fastest time. On the 9th August the heats of the N.S.W. Individual Junior Road Championship was held at Milperra. They started at 11.00 a.m. Saturday morning and my boss made it impossible for me to finish work on time, so this put me out of the State Titles the following week.
Sunday the 10th August at 5.00 a.m. I left Picton for Sydney breaking the 52 mile junior Picton to Sydney record, the record was held by Ron Winterbottom. We had to get police permission for me to attempt the record and we also had to carry three time keepers in the following car. I rode the old Hume Hwy over Razorback Mountain finishing at the G.P.O. Martin Place. Russ Tollis of Mascot Cycles agreed to sponsor my ride.

Ron Winterbottom’s ride in 1945 was sponsored by Carbine Cycles. Ron was a member of Mascot Club, but when I turned senior in 1948 at the end of the road season Ron left the club and joined Botany Cycling Club in 1949.

I will Leave Home!

The ever popular Speedwell Open was held on the 23rd August and was conducted on the Crossroads-Narellan-Campbelltown course. What a day! Gale force winds, pouring rain, it was freezing cold and I finished too late from work to get a lift to the race, so I rode from Maroubra to the Crossroads, about thirty miles. When I reached there, I was wet and cold and not sure whether I had the legs for this race, after my long ride to get there. After the start, the weather deteriorated and it was almost impossible to see the other riders in the peloton. As we turned on to Narellan Road the peloton had dwindled to around forty riders and crossing the wet train line at Narellan I fell then had a hard chase to regain the peloton, then going over Kenny's Hill just before Campbelltown, riders attacked the field reducing the peloton to about twenty riders.

Turning onto Campbelltown Road we had two hills to climb before the finish, they were Minto and Cottage Hill. Climbing Minto, the peloton was reduced to eight riders and climbing Cottage Hill I was in trouble cramping in both legs. At the top of the climb I was off the back of the bunch, but the bunch slowed and with about a mile to go I regained the field and in the finishing sprint, I came from last place to snatch victory on the line. It felt great to win the Speedwell!

After that, all I had left on the road season was club races and our club Championships. In the Time Trial Championship I went on to win and break the course record by two minutes. The Mass Start Championship was the race I wanted to win and at the time Mascot had about thirty juniors racing. My main rivals were Jack Nelson and Alby Baker and both of these riders were the elite junior track riders. They were also State representatives, there was Dave Burnett who was a very tough competitor and on his day could produce a ride that could win any race.

The week before the Championship the club held a twenty mile scratch race. I changed my tactics by leading the field out in the finish and went to the front with about three hundred yards to go. It worked and I won by over two lengths, so I was very confident about the Championship. On the day of the Championship we had thirty starters, it turned out to be the slowest race that I had ridden in. I tried very hard to make a race of it by doing all the work up the front of the bunch but the field was just happy to ride along and not make a race of it. Finally I blew up and said “stuff the lot of you” so I just sat back in the bunch and took things easy. As the race went on the referee warned us twice to make a race of it, or he would call the race off, but this made no difference to us as we just continued on at a snails pace. With about a mile to go he called the race off, this made little difference to us and we decided to get a result. It came down to a bunch sprint with two hundred yards from the line. I was completely boxed in by Baker and Nelson and it was too late to back off and go around them. They were using all their track skills to beat me and it was turning into a very rough house finish with a lot of pushing and shoving as we raced to the line.

With the line coming closer there was no way that I was going to lose this race, it was a slight down hill finish and we must have been doing close to 40mph when I forced myself between Baker, and Nelson to snatch victory on the line. As we crossed the line Nelson put his knee into my handle bars causing me to fall, somersaulting along the road I was feeling every bump in the road. As I lay there I knew that I was in trouble, blood was coming from my mouth, there was no feeling in my legs they were paralysed, I was in a mess with blood coming from cuts all over my body. I just wanted to be sick. Dad and Mr. Gurney would not move me off the road. They called for an ambulance and by the time I reached Price Henry Hospital I was almost drowning in my own blood. They placed me into the intensive care ward, with a broken pelvis, three broken ribs and a punctured lung. I was in hospital for a couple of weeks but it would be twelve weeks before I was able to walk again.

Mr Bill Young the Secretary of the N.S.W. Amateur Cycling Union came to see me just to wish me a speedy recovery and he hoped to see me back on my bike very soon. The biggest surprise was that I had a fan club of girls who would visit me at home at least once a week. By January I was sun tanned from swimming and laying on the beach at Maroubra. It was time to go back to training and my passion to race was still there. After riding in a few club and combine races on Henson Park, I decided to enter the senior ranks before I turned eighteen and I entered my first senior race on Hurstville Oval. During the night I was riding with lots of confidence, even though I fell in the three lap handicap final when I attempted to go through a small gap in the field bringing down Vic Smith, one of the top senior sprinters. Then riding in the A Grade five mile scratch race, in the finishing sprint coming into the straight as I made my run Vic Smith forced me up the track into the fence. I somersaulted down the track, bringing down a number of riders and finished up in St George Hospital with a fractured cheekbone and losing lots of skin. That night my Mum told me if I ever raced again she would leave home.

Belgium Beckons

Just before the start of the 1948 road season I was asked would I like to go and race in Belgium with one of the amateur clubs that was being sponsored by a smallgoods firm. At that time my essential failing was the lack of confidence in myself and my ability to make it. At the age of seventeen with all those falls and injuries there was a lot of doubt in my mind whether I had enough guts to keep racing at an elite level.

I knew that the top riders in Europe were making more money that I could ever earn as a pastry cook and the space at the top of the cycling world is small, very small. I was well aware that spending the next ten years as a racing cyclist would not be easy. Cycling is not a job it’s a lifestyle. I never went to dances and had no girlfriends. Instead I would train in the road season at least four hundred mile a week, in the track season, I did very little training, working fifty hours a week as an apprentice pastry cook. Racing at an elite level with plenty of wins I had never represented N.S.W. in an Australian Championship. My mother was against me racing at all, she wanted me to finish my apprenticeship. Dad was not keen on me going as it was along way to Europe if I was badly injured. Finally I declined the offer as at this stage I was just happy to race in N.S.W.

Old School

1948 my first road season as a senior in club races and I shared the scratch mark with Ron Winterbottom and Keith Johnson. Both of these riders were from the old school and they were tough and wiry being brought up on handicap racing. In club races they made my life a misery as they worked me over never allowing me to settle down in a race. This was a very tough season for me as I had gone from a junior racing twenty five mile to now as a senior racing anything from fifty to hundred and twenty five mile. These matured riders were pushing big gears. I was just not strong enough to push those big gears over a long distance so it was very hard to be competitive. During the season riding in the opens you would have at least a hundred and sixty starters in the handicap races and in those big finishes on what were then very narrow roads, you would be lucky to see the front of the bunch let alone win the race.

1948 was a learning experience for me and Johnson and Winterbottom were good teachers and they toughened me up. With Johnson in the club mass start championship we were away in a two man breakaway from the peloton. This would be my race as Johnson could not beat me in a sprint so with about a mile to go, Johnson asked me could I give him a drink, reaching into my back pocket of my jersey for a flask, Johnson took off jumping to the other side of the road and while he only gained about twenty yards I could not bridge the gap and finished second. The club Time Trial Championship was won by Keith Johnson from Ron Winterbottm. I finished third, Keith was the State Time Trial Champion and the only bright spot for me was in the N.S.W. 125 Mile Road Championship. I was able to get myself into the winning break for about fifty mile but with about twenty mile to go, Tommy Williams knocked Keith Johnson off his bike and I crashed over the top of Keith. Regaining my bike, I could not bridge the gap. I just did not have the legs and I failed to finish. That year I rode with some of the veterans who raced before World War 2 and some were legends of the cycling world; Tommy Williams, Roy Still, Ian Leary, Jim Nestor, Ken McMaugh, George Burrows, Frank Gould, George Moore. I have missed a few names but those riders were the toughest that I would meet during my cycling career.

At the end of the road season I turned to track racing, during the season I was showing good form winning a few track opens and combine club racing on Henson Park, I won every five mile paced event until the Christmas carnivals. Racing at Wiley Park in a very rough finish to a race, I was suspended for two months by the N.S.W. officials for rough riding. My dad who was an official at that carnival was very upset with my riding, he hated my aggression that I sometimes showed while racing. Those days I had no transport to reach the tracks around Sydney so I would ride my road bike and carry my track bike over my shoulder, sometimes riding twenty five mile just to reach the carnivals.
My New Boss

Early in 1949 my boss sold his cake shop, so I had a new boss, Mr Roberts from Parramatta who took over my apprenticeship from Mr Huff. Mr Roberts brought with him his apprentice from his shop in Parramatta. My new boss was a Welshman and he had a great singing voice but was a very basic pastry cook so this was not going to help me learn my trade. I did talk him into working late Friday night and this allowed me to have Saturday mornings off.

In his early years Mr Roberts was middle weight champion of Wales and later on in my apprenticeship I would fight Roberts and Talty at the same time in the bakehouse. John Talty was the other apprentice and both before and after the fight, the three of us were good friends.

1949 Road Season

The start of the road season in 1949 Tasmanian Road Champion Ian Stokewell arrived in Sydney to finish his apprenticeship with Qantas. While he was in Sydney he decided to race with Mascot. Ian had no accommodation so Mum invited him to stay at our place. There was very little room in my bedroom with two beds and two bikes. Ian stayed for about six months then he moved back to Tasmania and I never heard from him again.
Ron Winterbottom left Mascot and joined Botany Club so that left three on the scratch mark, Johnson, Stokewell and myself. In club races we were giving away huge starts to
the rest of the field and in club and combine club races I was gaining fastest time every week in sprint finishes. I was too fast for my fellow scratch man and I was also finding racing the road opens was becoming easier. During the season N.S.W. held three test races on the Liverpool to Heathcote and return course. The test races and the N.S.W. Road Championship was over sixty two and half miles and these races were held to pick four riders to represent N.S.W. in the Australian Championship and the Empire Games. The test races were to be held on the Liverpool to Heathcote course on the 30th August to the 3rd September 1949.

The way I was riding I gave myself a chance of making the N.S.W. team. I took a month off work to train and was covering eighty mile a day but with no coach to advise me, I over did my training and was very flat coming into the races. During the first test race going back out on the last lap, the peloton descended down towards Deadman’s Creek and Johnson and I moved around the peloton as we were going to attack on the climb out of Deadman’s. As we approached the bridge across the creek at the foot of the hill, looking up, I noticed a speeding car on the wrong side of the road heading towards the peloton. The driver braked hard sending the car spinning across the road into the gravel on the side of the road and then slid back across the road into peloton. It was like a bomb going off as it ploughed through the riders. Keith Johnson was the first rider hit, he was riding just behind my back wheel and looking back there were riders laying all over the road. The officials following the race told us to continue on so we slowed down for the next five mile to allow riders to regain the peloton.

On our way back as we descended down Deadman’s George, Moore tried to breakaway. The peloton chased and as we reached the bridge at the bottom of the hill, there were cars ambulances and police blocking the road then there was another fall. With about four miles to go there was only about twenty riders left. In the sprint with two hundred yards to go I hit the front but could not hold off the fast finishing bunch. After the race Dad told me that Keith had been taken to Liverpool Hospital in a critical condition. He had taken the full impact of the car and the top half of his body was badly crushed. Ken McMaugh was also fighting for his life with a badly fractured skull. I waited all night at the Hospital with Keith as he fought for his life. Sunday morning the doctors told me that he would make it and after seeing Keith, I left the hospital and rode home to Maroubra a very tired boy. Keith never fully recovered from the fall and never raced again. I kept in touch with Keith over the years but he became very depressed and later on committed suicide by hanging himself.

The second Test Race was on Tuesday and I failed to get into the winning break of four riders, but won the bunch sprint for fifth place. The State Road Championship was the last of the test races, the peloton stayed together for sixty mile, but with two mile to go we let Tom Cleghorn ride away from the peloton, and no-one chased him he rode across the finishing line two minutes in front of the field. The officials did not realize that he had won the race until after the peloton had finished, they had not been told about the lone breakaway, in the sprint I finished in the top half dozen.

The next open was the Unanderra to Berry return, this was a tough course and it rained throughout the race. As our bunch road out of Kiama we were pulled over by the police for cutting a corner as we left the town. They made us ride back to Kiama and make the turn correctly, then a lecture on the rules of the road after which we were allowed to continue on. There was no chance to win the race as we had lost too much time but for the sprint for fastest time, as this was a handicap race, I fell on the wet train lines coming into Unanderra bringing most of the bunch down.

A few of my mates and myself rode down to Bowral two days before the Bowral Open and we stayed at the first Hotel as you come into town from Sydney. What a great time we had. The hospitality was great, those big log fires of a night, but the company was even better. My mates left for the race on Monday morning without me as I was having such a great time, I was late for the start of the race, then I chased the field for thirty mile then sat up and gave it away, but it was a great weekend.

Club Championships

At Mascot’s Club Championships in the sixty mile mass start championship, I won the bunch sprint defeating Cec Winterbottom and in the fifty mile time trial championship, I won breaking Charlie Winterbottom’s fifty mile State record. Charlie in the late thirties was State and Australian Time Trial Champion, he was an outstanding road rider. In 1934 Charlie gave probably the best ever ride in the eighty seven year old history of the Goulburn to Sydney Classic and had the honour of being the only man throughout the history of the Goulburn Classic to be handicapped on scratch alone.

Charlie raced on a straight gear of 77 inches. He could not handle gears and rode Endric rims and speed tyres over the 128 mile course in the record time of 5 hours 23 minutes and 24 seconds. Breaking Winterbottoms 50 mile record I rode gears light weight wheels and racing singles, they were light weight tyres glued to the rims.

The last race of the season was the Freebairn Open held on the Liverpool-Heathcote course an eighty mile handicap. In the closing stage of the race I had just caught the leading bunch after I had punctured my front tyre and we were descending down the gorge near Heathcote on our way back to Liverpool. The bunch was travelling about fifty mile per hour, when my front wheel came loose. Taking a spanner out of my jersey pocket I tried to tighten the wheel but the spanner slipped my hand and went into the front wheel behind the front forks of my bike. I went straight over the handle bars crashing head first onto the road, those days we did not race in crash helmets. As I lay on the ground I could not focus on anything, the ground was spinning around and my hand and head was hurting like hell. The officials called for an ambulance, which took me to St George Hospital with a fractured skull and a smashed right hand. My fitness pulled me through the fall. I was a couple of weeks in hospital but it took months to remember anything about the fall.

The best thing to come out of the 1949 road season was that my dad was a judge for the Empire Games Test Races and the Australian Road Championship.

Push Your Limits

At this stage of my cycling I was out growing Mascot Club, all my mates were very good club riders, but I needed to race and train with riders that I considered better than me as it was very easy to get comfortable with your training partners. The only way to improve was to push your limits further and further and to do that is to be pushed hard by your colleagues. I should have gone to a stronger club. There were three very strong clubs but Mascot had looked after me and I felt that I could not leave the club.

When I first began training as a senior, the general rule was just get out there and ride your bike for as long and as hard as you can. I would look outside of a morning to see how the day was shaping up, then off I would go. It might be a six hour ride or a three hour ride depending how my legs felt, but there was not much rhyme or reason to it.

During the track season I was very nervous in big fields, all those falls were having an effect on my confidence. During the track season I won a lot of five mile races but in big bunch sprints, if I could not lead the field out in the last three hundred yards, I would just sit up and take no further part in the finals. The next few months were tough lacking confidence in myself, I was still only eighteen but those falls were taking there toll and at work I had a fight with my boss and the other apprentice John Talty. We came to blows in the bake house. Those long hours on concrete floors and my poor diet of sausage rolls and meat pies, I realised that my preparation for cycling was inadequate. Those days I had no idea what was the correct vitamins to take for the resistance to fatigue.

During the season I was covering long miles, on Sundays I would ride at least 140 mile then during the week two rides of 60 mile, then the race on a Saturday of 60 mile or more. In the road races over a hundred mile I found my body could not recover from the constant fatigue that I was experiencing in those long road races. I was competitive up to a hundred mile with no problems, but all the major races were over a hundred mile. There were times that I went close to winning but over those last few miles fatigue would take over my legs, and then I would abandon the race, but the passion to win a “Classic” never left me.

It was not until 1997 when I found out the cause of my fatigue in those long road races years ago, when a routine check at St George Hospital found that I was born with only one kidney, and in those long hard road races the kidney could not produce enough red blood cells to stimulate my muscles and fatigue would take over my body.

1950 Road Season

The 1950 road season proved to be very successful, racing in Victoria in an eighty mile open scratch race I was in a breakaway group of ten riders from the peloton and we were never caught. I won the sprint from the other breakaways by two lengths. There were plenty of wins in club and combine racing and in the last open race of the season I came from last place in the sprinting bunch to snatch victory on the line. At the end of the season I was successful in winning both the Time Trial and Mass Start Championship of Mascot Club, also first and fastest in the clubs fifty mile Annual Handicap Road Race.

At the end of the 1950 season I was very tired of bike racing and I had no social life. My mates would take their girlfriends out and I would go on my own. At this point in time I had never taken a girl out as I was always too busy so I decided to have a six month break from cycling. Saturday in the summer I would go down to Maroubra beach for a few waves and there I met a girl whose name was Betty Gardiner. She had won a beauty contest in 1949. We would sit and talk for hours then I would walk her home to Matraville where she lived just behind the shopping centre. She was not my type and I never took her out.

Maroubra Surf Club

While working at the cake shop I met Charlie Molloy who delivered the eggs to the shop. Charlie at the time was the President of Maroubra Surf Club and we would talk about the club. After a while he persuaded me to join which was in the summer of 1949-50 at the same time as I was having the six months break from the bikes.

To be a member you had to swim four hundred and forty yards in eight minutes so I made an attempt. At the time my best was eight minutes and thirty seconds so I was fit enough but not fast enough. I had a couple of training swims in the pool and then across to Coogee Aquarium for the swim. I think they were being kind to me when they told me
I had made the time. Now I had to pass the Bronze Medallion which it was on basic surf skills plus rescue and resuscitation. The squad trained for a month then our instructor said we were ready to go. Saturday morning 8.00 a.m. the squad is assembled on the beach, big seas were pounding the beach and even though I was not a fast swimmer I was very strong in big seas. I had the first swim in the belt, on reaching the buoy about hundred yards off the beach they decided to call the test off because of the rough seas. We were then taken over to Coogee Beach, once again I am in the belt half way out to the buoy the shark alarm goes then the surf boat comes along side me and the sweep called out “its probably only a large flathead what do you want to do?” My reply was to keep going. Finally we all finished the test, then back to Maroubra where we were told that all the squad had passed.

I immediately joined the surfboat crews and started to train with the B crew. Wally Marshall was the coach and sweep but I still could not keep out of trouble. While catching waves off South Maroubra, the surfboat over turned on a sandbar and as the boat went over, my oar snapped and my right wrist was caught in the rowlock, trapping me under the boat. I could not free my wrist because the boat was being swept along by the force of the wave. There were a few anxious moments but I did not panic, at last the boat dropped off the wave and I was then able to free my wrist and swim to the surface.

One Sunday morning big seas were pounding the beach and it was closed to the public but the club officials decided to go ahead with the Surfboard Championship. We took the surf boat out to lay the buoys for the championship and with much difficulty we finally succeeded in laying the buoys about two hundred yards off the beach. We then backed the surfboat behind the buoys and about one hour later the championship was called off as none of the board riders could make it through the surf. But Dennis Green kept going and he finally made it through the break when paddling into clear water, when he was hit by this monster of wave and he was knocked unconscious by his surfboard. We backed the surfboat in towards the beach to pick him up and as we were pulling him into the boat, we were hit by another huge wave throwing all of us into the surf. Then another wave struck causing problems with two members of the boat crew, the surf had gone mad. There were huge waves rolling in from out the back and there were times we could not see the beach and the beach could not see us making it very hard for the beltman who was swimming with another swimmer helping to drag the line through the surf. Eventually after three hours four beltmen had reached us and the rescue was completed.

At one stage of Dennis Green’s sporting career he wanted to become a racing cyclist We were good friends so he joined Mascot Club. Dennis had a broken down old bike so I gave him one of mine to race on. Dennis won two B grade opens and looked to have a future on the bikes, but then gave it away. Dennis later on was to represent Australia at the Olympic Games from 1956 to 1972. In 1972 he carried the Australian flag at the opening ceremony. He competed in the kayaks and also won many Australian Championships on the surfski, and board.

1952 during the Freshwater surf carnival in heavy seas, I was involved in a rescue when the Coogee junior boat crew were swamped by a large wave and thrown into the surf. They were exhausted and were being swept out to sea. At the same time the shark alarm rang as two big sharks could be seen just outside the surf break, every surfboat on the beach went to their rescue, but with the waves pounding onto the sandbar the boats were being swamped as they attempted to get through the surf.

As we waited for a break in the surf our boat had drifted near the rocks at the south end of the beach, then Stan Baker our sweep screamed out “go for it” and we pulled hard through the surf. Out of the corner of my eye I could see waves towering above us, Baker had picked the right break in the surf and we made it to clear water. When we reached the Coogee men we pulled them aboard and by this time our boat was half full of water, then a wave came crashing down on us, throwing all of us into the surf. Looking around I could see one of the Coogee crewmen being swept towards the bombora off Queens Cliff. He was not travelling too well so I swam after him, by the time I reached him we were being swept out to sea, my big worry was whether anybody knew where we were.

The rest of the crews were being swept towards Freshwater beach, then one of the Coogee crew drifted towards the north end of the beach. The crowd on the beach were watching the rescue from all the best advantage points, when they saw a shark circling the Coogee crewman. John May from Freshwater R&R. team ran down the beach and jumped into the belt ignoring the danger to himself, swam out and rescued the crewman while the shark was still circling him. The Coogee crewman and myself were still drifting around and it was almost dark, our chance to be rescued was diminishing with darkness and it was an eerie feeling out there. Then our luck changed when the Captain Cook pilot boat found us and we were taken back to Sydney Harbour.

At Maroubra I never missed a Sunday surf race, and I won the Annual across Maroubra beach handicap surf race. Sunday afternoons we would play beach football and from there I was asked to trial with South Sydney President Cup. I had one trial at Snape Park but by passion was to be a bike rider. My surfing career came to an end in 1952 after I was involved in a fight with Stan Baker the Club Captain, he was drunk and so was his mates. We were never friends and after the fight he went out of this way to make life a misery for me, so I left the club at the end of the season.

In 1950 I finished my apprenticeship and took a position as a pastry cook at Newtown where I lasted a week, walking out of the shop on Saturday morning with out collecting my wages. My apprenticeship had taught me very little and I was embarrassed. Eventually I went to work at Gullivers Cake Shop at Peters Corner Randwick. There was a staff of fourteen in the Bakehouse and this proved to be the greatest move that I ever made. I wanted to succeed and they taught me to be the best pastry cook and the highest paid cook in Sydney.

Janette Ahrens

Later on that year my life was to change when I met a popular and attractive girl, Janette Ahrens at a dance. This was the first time in my life that I had been to a dance and at first, Jan was keen on a workmate of mine John Talty. Finally I won her over and we hit it off fairly well even though Jan took no interest in my bike racing. We married two years later which was probably too young and immature for such a big step in life, plus we had no money. Jan and I were married on the 31st January, 1953 at the Hunter Baille Presbyterian Church at Annandale. After the wedding we stayed the night in the Sydney Hotel at the Haymarket, then Sunday night we caught the train to Taree, arriving there very early Monday morning. We then caught the bus to Forster but when we reached there it was so early no shops were open. We had an address but no clue to where we were staying. Lucky we met the owner of the Fun Parlour in the middle of the main street of Forster and he was kind enough to drive us to our accommodation.

When we came home from our honeymoon we had five pounds left, bedroom furniture, two push bikes, that was our entire wealth. There was going to be a long hard struggle ahead of us. We went to live with my Grandparents an Annandale where we lived for about five years. I was working at Gulliver's Cake Shop at Peters Corner Randwick, then working four afternoons a week at my Mother’s clothing factory at Maroubra. Jan was working at her trade as an exclusive model milliner for Sylvia Gain at the Haymarket. Jan was regarded as one of the best milliners in Sydney. The next five years we worked very hard to build up our bank account and our dream was to buy a house at Maroubra.