State Library of Western Australia

FIFTY YEARS WITHOUT MILES

“Know your kilometres – Miles are a thing of the past” was the message leading up to Metric Day, 1 July 1974.

From that day fifty years ago, motorists all over Australia needed to measure their speed and distances in kilometres. Almost every sign was replaced within the month.

To ensure the least amount of confusion, the old black and white rectangle was retired and the red circle we recognise today was introduced on all of the new signs
While it wasn’t mandatory for drivers to have their speedometer converted, it certainly added a level of difficulty to abide by speed limits until they did!

Explore this gallery showing the evolution of road signs, dating all the way back to 1910, through photos from the State Library’s collection.

SOURCE – The Beverley Times 9 July 1974 via the magic of Trove

The West Australian Road Safety Commission Western Australia Main Roads Western Australia RAC WA WAtoday.com.au ABC Perth ABC Midwest and Wheatbelt ABC Goldfields-Esperance ABC Kimberley ABC South West

INTRODUCING THE TELEPHONE TO YALARDY STATION

This is Part 2 of Ronda's story. Read Part 1: https://statelibrarywa.info/3W9UKvG

We ended up with four kids on Yalardy Station. Three daughters and a son.

They were born “everywhere”. Two in Kalgoorlie where my mum and dad were. One in Geraldton and one in East Fremantle.

By the time my youngest was born, the two eldest kids were at school. Ann Marie in Geraldton and Jim at Governor Stirling in Perth.

It was hard for them to leave the station but it was even harder for me because I didn’t want them to go. It was just so terrible, especially for Jim. He was so far away. Oh, I hated it, hated being so far away from him.

Jim did Year 10 and then said to me “I’m not going to do school mum, you’re only wasting your money.” So during the holidays he came back to the station and kept looking in the paper for an apprenticeship. Then one day I said to him “You know Jim if you don’t want to do an apprenticeship and you want to stay at the station and learn the ropes, you’re quite welcome to do that.” I’ve never seen him drop the paper so fast in my life and take off outside.

I never rode the horses, I wasn’t allowed to ride a horse because I might fall off. So I rode motorbikes instead and fell off those many times!

We were lucky and never had any bad casualties, except for the time Lloyd tried to cut his leg off with a chainsaw. He cut the kneecap clean in half and came back to the house with a greasy old rag on it. I nearly had a fit. Jim took him to the hospital in Carnarvon and they stitched him up. But the first thing he did when he came out, was to say he felt good and got on the tractor.

Split the stitches, didn’t he, so we had to take him back into town again.

If someone was out on their own and had an accident, there wasn’t a way of communicating with the homestead. We didn’t have the telephones along the fence lines as some places had. There was always a rule that if someone wasn’t back by a certain time, you went out looking and that only happened once.

It was when Jim and Anne Marie were small and they went out with their father on the motorbike, one in front of him and one behind. They went out east side to see whether the windmill was pumping and said they’d be two hours. But after two hours there was no sign of them. I gave them another ten minutes before I got on a motorbike and went out there.

I met them halfway. They’d got a flat tyre and were walking. So all of them piled on the motorbike with me and we went home. Lloyd drove, I was behind, Jim was in front of the petrol tank and Anne Marie was on the carrier at the back. It was like a ship going along. But we got home.

Our only communication with the outside world was a two-way radio from the Flying Doctor base. Then in 1984, we got a telephone. It was a bit unusual at first because being so used to the radio you’d get on the phone and say, “Hello, over.” People must have thought I was a bit screwy. But I think everybody had that experience when they first went on to the telephone.

We didn't have much contact with our neighbours. It wasn’t that we didn’t want to, I think a lot of the time it was the fact that no one could afford to get to social events. There used to be a hall at the Overlander but we were 120 kilometres away. If they ever had a meeting there, we’d always be late. Didn’t matter how early we left home, we had 94 kilometres of dirt road to get over.

Christmas and New Year were always spent on the station and it was always just a family affair unless 'rellies' came up from the south, which was very rare. They reckoned it was too hot and that people were not right in the head to live in such heat. Well... we thought it was all right.

The hottest temperature I ever experienced was 54C and that’s hot. But once it gets to a certain temperature it just doesn’t feel any hotter, you know.

On a hot day, the kids would still come out while we worked. They would sit in a trough and play boats. The troughs were usually under trees in the shade. We made it that way. Of course, they would get in there just with their un**es on and have a lovely time.

Fruit and vegetables would be half bad by the time they got to us and delivery was expensive. So I used to give the kids dried fruit – bananas and the mixed fruit you’d put in a fruit cake.

When we went into Carnarvon we’d buy a month’s supply of food from PJs Store, then, of course, Woolworths came in later. There was also Elders and Wesfarmers. I’d stock up on oranges and apples, bananas, herbs, and mangos. I love mangos. But once they ran out, they ran out. Even today I find it hard not to buy too much food. Our pantry is always chock full.

I tried all sorts of recipes but I never used to make the cakes on Yalardy. Lloyd used to. He used to love making cakes, so I gave him the job. And he made a pretty mean mock cream too. We had chooks and used to get eggs from them. Lloyd was a butcher by trade too, so I used to get all the right cuts of meat and we would make our own mince.

Once ladies were asked to bring a plate to a meeting over at Towrana Station, and because it was the end of the month I had run out of everything. I asked Lloyd “What am I going to do?” He said, “Leave it with me.” Half an hour later he came back with a big fat nanny goat, minced it, and put the last of our vegetables through it.

I made patties with the mince and poured tomato soup all over and that’s what I took to Towrana. Everyone ate the dish and said how beautiful it was until I opened my mouth and said it was made of goat. Of course, some people seemed to think that if you ate goat it was the worst thing in the world. People were being sick and all sorts of things. But I thought it tasted good.

My favourite place on the station was a windmill out on the east side. We used to call it No 8. There were the most beautiful white gum trees there, old ghost gums, and they used hang over so it was like going down an avenue of trees. At the end was a little circle surrounded by trees and it was like going into another world. You’d hear the twittering of the birds and see butterflies, it was just heavenly – a beautiful place. My favourite place.

SOURCE - Interview with Ronda Kempton [sound recording] / [interviewed by Margaret Robertson]
Oral History | 2005.
Available at 2nd Floor Oral History Stack (Call number: OH3606/16 Transcript (Reading room))

ABC Perth ABC Midwest and Wheatbelt The West Australian Midwest Times and Northern Guardian

WHEN RONDA MET LLOYD

I met Lloyd in a dance hall in Perth. One thing led to the other, and we got married in 1964.

He told me he worked on a station but didn’t tell me he owned it. I found that out in due course.

We travelled up to Yalardy Station (near Shark Bay) in a trusty Land Rover. It was a long and tiring 12-hour trip from Perth.

We parked outside this shed made of corrugated iron. Lloyd got out of the vehicle and went inside. I just sat there and thought to myself, what have I let myself into?

As I walked in, Lloyd, his Uncle Norman, another man, and three dogs walked out. I was a bit bewildered at first but once I was there for a while, I kind of got into the groove of things.

The ‘homestead’ built by Lloyd himself consisted of a big room, one bedroom, a kitchen and a bathroom. The floor was cement. I knew I had to make the most of it. In a way it was an adventure, I suppose.

There was a No 2 Metters wood stove, with two big hobs on either side. This turned out to be the best stove I’ve ever cooked on. I still miss it today. It was a beauty.

At first, the countryside was lush and green. It was beautiful, really beautiful. But by 1967 we were in drought which lasted for five years. The big drought was one of the hardest things I had to go through in my life.

Then the seasons picked up again. We always found that a moderate season was better than a good season. In a good season, there was so much feed that the sheep wouldn’t bother to grow wool. They didn’t bother to have the lambs either, because they were too busy feeding their faces.

Anne Marie was born in 1965 and Jim was born in 1966. I wasn't involved in much outdoor work until the kids were four and five. Lloyd had the old-fashioned idea that women couldn't do anything outside. I told him that we couldn't afford anybody and that I would help him out. It was the worst thing I could have said because I was chief station hand for ten years after that.

Routine was important when it came to juggling outside work with housework. We'd get up at six. Breakfast was cereal and toast for the kids and me. Being an "egg man" Lloyd would have a couple of eggs. I'd do the cooking and Lloyd would do the washing up.

After breakfast, we'd do the schoolwork. Poor reception meant we couldn't get the school of the air (we could talk to them but we couldn't hear them), so we did it by correspondence with Perth.

The schoolwork would come up by post, and at the end of each fortnight, we'd bundle it all up and post it back. Corrections came a week later. As I wasn’t too good at school I had to learn with the kids. Lloyd would always help with the maths.

Afterwards, I'd go out and do the outside work. This included cleaning troughs out and fixing windmills. The kids would play nearby and I'd have to keep an eye on them in case they wandered off. One of the virtues of being up a 60ft windmill was that I had a good view of them.

Lloyd had no help outside of me. It was just a family unit. It had to be. On the weekends I'd do the housework and laundry. We had our routine down pat.

In the early days, we had 2,000 odd sheep and at shearing time we would get two or three men to help. Until 1968 when we built shearer's quarters and kitchen, the shearers camped at the homestead and ate with the family.

But after the first year, I flatly refused to cook for the shearers. Because... I'll be nice. They were the fussiest men I'd ever come across in my entire life to cook for.

One time I got so wild at a shearer who refused to eat the custard and fruit I'd prepared, that I picked up the custard and upended it on his head. He wasn't happy and walked out, but forever after he ate what I put in front of him.

We had a rainwater tank at the shearer's quarters. Before shearing started, I put a cup of Epsom salts in to settle the water and purify it. I didn't think much about it until our shearing contractor started going backward and forward to the toilet.

Old Ted hobbled over to Lloyd and me and said "I'm blowed if I know what's going on. I can hardly walk I've been to the loo that many times." To which Lloyd and his big mouth said "Oh that's probably the Epsom salts that she put in the tank" looking at me.

In 1973 we had about 10,300 sheep and I was a part of the mustering team. Other than sheep there were wild goats on the property. At one time they became a real problem. There were literally thousands of them which we caught and sold for live export out of Geraldton.

Moving from the shed into a transportable home in the early '70s was one of the happiest days of my life! We had built a couple of rooms onto the shed but we'd just got sick and tired of it. It had also been through a couple of cyclones too.

Then in 1975 - I don't know how it happened but oh we had another child, a little girl, Kim. Ten years after the first. I tell you, I must have had rocks in my head.

Read part two https://statelibrarywa.info/3Yhxajj

SOURCE - Interview with Ronda Kempton [sound recording] / [interviewed by Margaret Robertson]
Oral History | 2005.
Available at 2nd Floor Oral History Stack (Call number: OH3606/16 Transcript (Reading room))

ABC Perth ABC Midwest and Wheatbelt ABC Kimberley Shark Bay World Heritage Discovery and Visitor Centre The West Australian Midwest Times and Northern Guardian

THE MIDDLE CHILD

This story is based on an interview with Francis Lenard Charles Anderson in 1981 as part of the City of Melville oral history project. Travel back in time to the Palmyra, Fremantle, Point Walter, Melville and more from his memories.

My name is Francis Leonard Charles Anderson and I was born in 1917. My father's name was John and he worked on Fremantle Wharf. My mother was Emily. I had six brothers and six sisters. I was the middle child of thirteen.

I was nine years old when my family moved to Elvira Street in Palmyra. There was a lot of bush in those days, and just a few houses dotted here and there. Our house was a timber lean-to, with a tin roof, pressed tin ceilings and walls.

My main mode of transport was 'feet' [laughs].

My main forms of recreation: football, cricket and fighting.

It was a physically hard life. You had no mod cons (modern conveniences). If you were lucky you had an ice chest, no washing machine. My mother couldn’t afford the baker so she made all the bread, six loaves a day. It made us a close-knit family, bringing us all together.

My father was strict, we all had our allotted tasks to do each day, and if you didn’t do them, you got no dinner until you did it. There were also plain rules, and if you didn’t get it, I suppose you got a hiding as well as no tea.

Every night after school it was my job to go up to McKimmie Street with a little hand cart to get wood for the house. Many a time, if I played football and I hadn’t got my wood, I would be up in the bush in the dark getting it, or I wouldn’t get dinner.

I would walk to Bicton Primary School. It would take only about 10 minutes. I think there were about 120 pupils and four teachers. I enjoyed it but only went to sixth standard, as there were too many in my family. Too many…

The trams used to run to Point Walter and eventually got up to the old Melville Roads Board Office. Apart from that, there were buses run by Ron Carroll that used to leave from the old Leopold Hotel to the city. But I didn’t go to Perth very often, couldn’t afford it most times.

The roads were shocking and made of white limestone, you could drive a cart down some of those holes! Motor vehicles were few and far between. I remember the Fortescue family had one, he was a building contractor, and he had an old black Ford Model T.

There were very few doctors around, the nearest was Dr Parker at East Fremantle. Usually, you’d have to go to casualty at Fremantle Hospital, and you just hoped for the best.

Mail was delivered from the East Fremantle Post Office on horseback every day and Saturday too. But there were not many letters because people couldn’t afford the stamp. Deliveries were done by wagon, you know horse and cart.

Some of my brothers and sisters went to St John's Church in Fremantle. I didn’t go much, just every now and then. If I did, I would walk there.

The shops were the only ones with telephones. There were a few shops here and there. The nearest one to us was a little corner shop on the corner of Adrian and Hammad Street. People by the name of Cockrell first started that, and it was passed on and carried a variety of foodstuffs. The butcher shop was Rowneys up in Carrington Street. The were a couple of dairy farms one on the corner of Leach Highway and Stock Road, and another one up at the corner of Murray Road and Canning Highway, that’s where Charlie Carters was. All that land there, that was Devons’s dairy farm.

Point Walter was a great place for dancing. They had two dance floors and two cafeterias. It was a very popular place on weekends, with five or six thousand people. People used to come down by ferries, yachts, you name it.

We also went to Point Walter for picnics. Mum used to take all the crockery and everything, a big suitcase full of crockery. Us kids would have to lump it. I got a terrible hiding once because I got off the tram coming back from a picnic and left the suitcase on the tram.

Luckily my older sister who had been out with her boyfriend, got on the tram loop somewhere after I’d got off. She recognised it and brought it home. Such a coincidence and a sigh of relief for me too.

After I left school, I started work. I always found something to do even if it was only a few shillings a week. I was pleased to get it; I couldn’t afford to be at home and not contribute to our big family. Then I went to war.

I consider myself very lucky, because during the war I got shot through the neck, and the doctors there said another 1/16 of an inch and I wouldn’t have known about it. I am lucky.

When I returned, I started my own business (possibly as a hairdresser).
Some of the local characters (in Melville) I remember…

Percy North’s father-in-law, Shire Matsen He was contracted by the Melville Roads Board to collect rubbish. He was a real character. He had been a poke (mechanic) in his younger days. He would come up to the shop to get his hair cut, and as soon as you cut his hair he would go straight out to the tap at my back door, turn it on and run his head under the cold water. Yeah, yeah, he would just wash it, he reckons just by doing that he would never get a cold. He was a hardy old devil, but he got a bit funny when he got into his 80s.

Bob and Kitchers were two blokes who won Tatts, so they bought the Leopold Hotel. They didn’t really buy it, but they would argue they did the number of times they drunk it dry. They also bought an old car that they pushed more often than they drove. It was always running out of fuel, you had to laugh. They started out with a lot of money and in twelve months they had nothing. They were two characters, Bob and Kitch.

There was an old cop - Jerry, he lived on Stock Road, and he used to go around collecting bottles. His drinking hole was the Leopold too. You used to see his horse and cart down the side, and he would be in there, and every now and then he would come out with a pint, take his hat off, pour the pint in it and his horse would have a drink out of his hat. Yes, it did!

Strangely enough, if old Pop Ledger was sober, the horse would go home up to Canning Highway, but if he was drunk the horse would take him down to McKimmie Street and up Hammad Street. It was safer and the horse knew. Whether he had taught him this or not I don’t know.

I can’t think of much more (long pause). Only thing I could say was I wish I was back in those days again. It was a free and easy life, with not many hassles and things like that, and plenty of space. No noise, no cars but still, they say that’s progress.

I’ve often said, I say it quite often actually, that I have seen the best of this world and my two children have grown up to be good people, no complaints about it.

SOURCE –
Interview with Francis Lenard Charles Anderson in October 1983 / [interviewed by Maureen McGarry].
Anderson, Francis Lenard Charles, 1917-1994,
Oral History | 1983.
Available Online (OH1620 Audio, synopsis and transcript (Online))

ABC Perth The West Australian City of Melville Libraries and Museums PerthNow WAtoday.com.au

THE CASTLES OF WESTERN AUSTRALIA

Have you ever wondered how Castle Fun Park in Halls Head or the castle in Hammond Park came to be? Learn more about the man who brought his love of Bavarian castles from his childhood to Western Australia.

George Kaspar was born in 1931 in a town in Bavaria, Germany.

During his childhood, he explored the region’s Bavarian medieval castles and dreamed of building his own someday.

After WWII, George and his family immigrated to Australia, supported by the Displaced Persons Program.

George built his first miniature castle in the front yard of his Melbourne home. When he moved throughout New South Wales and Queensland, his hobby followed him and each new home featured a new miniature castle.

In 1971, George moved to Kalgoorlie. There, he once again created a castle in his front yard which became a local curiosity admired by both tourists and residents. The attention led the Shire to approach Kaspar to build a much larger castle in Hammond Park, to which he agreed.

By 1977, George and his son Roy had completed a scaled version of the Breitenstein Castle out of an estimated 40,000 individual natural gemstones collected from all over the Goldfields.

Two years later, George and his family moved to Mandurah where he was commissioned by Kevin Parry to build a Bavarian castle at Halls Head Estate.

The result was modelled after Neuschwanstein Castle in the Bavarian Alps, once home to King Ludwig II of Bavaria. George’s version, built by him and Roy, was one-twentieth the size of the original and stood at 9.5m in height.

After finishing the Neuschwanstein Castle, George and Roy continued on to build a miniature inn and chapel. The chapel was consecrated and hosted weddings and church services. George then created his Bavarian village, Oberammergau.

The castle opened its doors in 1981, followed by the village in 1983. Five years later, new owners transformed the site into an adventure park and it became known as the Castle Fun Park.

Eventually, Castle Fun Park evolved to include a merry-go-round, bumper cars, a mini gold course, slides and a skateboard track among other attractions.

Most notably, a unique 450 square metre swimming pool was added. It was in the shape of Australia with a fountain sprouting in the location of Tasmania.

SOURCE –
Dorothy Olsen via Friends of Mandurah Museum Newsletter Dec 2023

Dorothy Olsen also researched and wrote The Castle King (George Kaspar and Mandurah’s Castle Fun Park), available to read at the State Library of Western Australia

City of Mandurah City of Kalgoorlie-Boulder ABC Perth ABC Goldfields-Esperance The West Australian WAtoday.com.au Mandurah Times Kalgoorlie Miner

THE DAILY SNIPPET – A WEEKEND OF FREE COMIC CELEBRATIONS

Venture into the State Library on 27 & 28 July for a comic-filled weekend of fun at the Perth Comic Arts Festival

Saturday will feature workshops and talks that dive into comic creation, the industry and more. On Sunday, explore a showcase of over 100 comic book creators selling their work and attend family-friendly workshops.

Discover more: https://slwa.wa.gov.au/whats-on/2024-perth-comic-arts-festival

The West Australian Perth Cultural Centre PerthNow Perth is OK ABC Perth City of Perth North Metropolitan TAFE

THOMPSONS OF WEST PERTH

Did you ever buy a dress from Thompsons of West Perth? Discover how the family business came to be through the memories of Rosie Bradshaw who sat down for an interview in 1981.

My mother came to Perth in 1921.

She bought a haberdashery shop near the corner of Hay and Outram Streets from a Mrs Browne. It was only a small shop with a residence at the back.

As there weren’t many places to buy frocks in Perth, we decided to go into frocks. No gloves. No hats. Just frocks.

At first, it was just my mother, my sister, and I.

We lived at the back of the shop until we found a house nearby. It was close enough to take turns going home for lunch and allow time to empty the window at night and replace it with fresh frocks each morning.

We named the shop ‘Annette’ after my sister but then got a note from a dressmaker in Perth saying her business was called ‘Annette’ and would we mind changing it.

We didn't mind. To save a bit of money, the chap altered the name on the window to read ‘ALCESTE’ because it was all I could think of to fill the same space, but it was christened 'Thompsons' by the public.

On weekdays, we would open at 8:30 am and close at 6 pm but as my mother was a widow, it was allowed to stay open till 8 pm. This meant people could come after hours by special appointment.

On Saturdays, we would close at one o’clock.

We never had any written advertisements or put advertisements in the paper. We just put things in the window and told everybody. Friends came along and they told their friends.

At first, we bought stock from representatives visiting from the eastern states with samples. We would also buy from local agents Goode Durrant’s and D & W Murrays.

We were the first people to have small frocks – SSW and extra special SSW in Perth.

Gradually we expanded and the residence at the back was converted into fitting rooms. We employed shop assistants and people to do alterations for a very small fee.

We stopped buying from Perth agents and started buying exclusively from the East. Being a good Western Australian now I regret this decision, as the eastern states have taken over the market in Perth now.

I became the buyer and twice a year went to Melbourne by ship. It took a week to get there, a week to get back, and at least three weeks in between buying. I bought from Borsdorffs, Lloyd Jones, the Sydney Costume Company, Goldstone and Co, Lucas and Co in Ballarat, and oh lots of others I’ve forgotten.

Wearing a lemon frock of embroidered Swiss cotton and a hat with a tail down the side, I was mistaken for a schoolgirl at my first appointment. Then I noticed that other buyers were generally older and bigger women, beautifully turned out in black frocks.

Travelling over east was a lovely time for me. I used to take note of what people were wearing in the streets and went out to many theatres. I didn’t look in the shops to see what they were selling, because I knew what people wanted in Western Australia. At least I thought I knew.

At first, I stayed in a guest house on St Kilda Road, and then later at a guest house near the Windsor Hotel.

In the early hours of one morning at the St Kilda guest house, I woke up to see a man’s head coming through the window. So I flew out of bed, turned on the light, and screamed blue murder. The lady in the next room nearly had a heart attack, and when the doctor came she said, "It wasn’t the burglar that frightened me, it was those dreadful screams!"

Afterwards, the police came to interview me and grilled me for half an hour. From the little bit of information I gave about a waiter in the guest house, they tracked down a diamond-stealing gang. A Sydney bookmaker and his wife staying at the guest house had come to their attention. I remember the wife would enter the dining room with so many diamonds glittering around her neck and on her arms and fingers, that the boarders would cover their eyes to protect them from the glare!

I never took a ground-floor room after that.

If I thought something would be fashionable in Perth I’d buy it, and if I thought it was only going to be fashionable in Melbourne on account of the climate, I would say no.

There were no fashion parades. Some firms had a model you could ask to try on the frocks, but mostly you just bought ‘off the hook’. I’d choose the fashion I liked, the dress I liked, and they would make it in whatever size you wanted.

I never bought two frocks the same. Not even in different sizes. Deliveries to our shop were always on time. We were never let down. Nothing was ever lost or damaged, nothing was pilfered on the trains or anything like that. I don’t think there was ever a mistake on an order. I’m perfectly certain of that, because people took pride in their work, and they were interested. It was a sort of a personal business.

Accounts were sent over to my mother and my sister who had taken a business and accountancy course through Scott’s. I remember thinking that I should have taken a business course because my sister would always lecture me on how to save money and occasionally discover accounting mistakes made in her absence.

Customers visiting our shop were from all walks of life. They were very friendly, nice, and easy to serve. They came in because they wanted to come, and they wanted frocks.

We had one client who loved anything different. I saw a dress when over east in black and yellow and hung it in the window. Seeing it from the tram, she was quick to buy it and came in to say it had been a great success, turning heads at the Perth Cup and the trots.

We made a specialty of wedding frocks. They’d say what they wanted, and I would order it from the east. I remember a girl who had been told that if she bought her wedding dress from us, she’d get something very nice, and it would bring her luck.

We always had plenty of frocks to sell from. They were coming in continually and continuously. Our frocks were cheaper than in the shops in Perth because our overheads were a lot less. Transport was also easier in West Perth, and you could park anywhere.

When it came to serving customers, if someone was determined to buy something that I didn’t think suited her I would hold my tongue and let her buy it. I felt that every woman should make her own choice. Mother was perhaps more honourable than I and would say, “Look, you’d look much nicer in this”.

We didn’t have any complaints. Everything was beautifully sewn in those days and the ladies who did our alterations were very reliable. I can only remember one occasion when a customer brought a frock back. The business did very well indeed.

We never needed to have sales. Everything seemed to sell.

Nor did we have problems with shoplifting. There was a certain well-known gentleman in West Perth however, who told us that his wife was a compulsive shoplifter and to always see there was someone with her. If anything went missing, he told us to let him know, and he’d send a cheque.

We didn’t have many bad payers either, though I remember two young ladies who were always in the social news who didn't pay for their frocks. Their point of view was that they were very good advertisements for our shop, but I told them that whether they were good advertisements or not, we needed the money. They paid for the dresses. Mother would probably have let it go. She would never ask anyone for money.

I left the business when I was married in 1928 and moved to Kalgoorlie.
When the Depression came, people had no money and many of our customers left Perth. My mother left the business in 1931, but being the independent person she was, she gave us no idea.

She didn’t sell the business or anything, she just sort of gave it up. Beards and Co. bought the stock and took over. There was no ill-will and we all wished them well. My sister and I continued to buy our clothes there.

The Beards officially called the shop ‘Thompsons Frock Shop’ as it had been known to its customers for years.

In 2022, Thompsons of West Perth closed its doors. Do you have any memories of this Perth retail icon?

SOURCE - Interview with Rosie Bradshaw] [sound recording] / [interviewed by Ronda Jamieson].
Bradshaw, Rosie
Oral History | 1981.
Available Online (Call number: OH469)

GALLERY – Images of 'frocks' from the State Library of WA's collection.

ABC Perth The West Australian City of Perth WAtoday.com.au West Perth Local