© Ian Archibald, 2025.
My father John Archibald was a PWD (Public Works Department) engineer in charge of extending irrigation to Benger and to Yarloop prior to the commencement of World War 2.
COOKERNUP
I commenced school at Cookernup in, I believe, 1940, a single teacher school with about 20 pupils. The students names I remember are Eastcott, Helen Jackson, Dowker Hardy and his sister Diedre, Max Marsden – a big kid five years older than me, Jenkinson, Clifton, Hayward, Corker and Blackburn. Blackburns owned land alongside the road leading to the Logue Brook Dam. After milking, Mr Blackburn and his two boys would ride their horses to the farm fronting the South West Highway to clear the land. Basil Blackburn taught me to ride a horse and I roamed the hills while they worked. Early on I had to ride bare back so if I fell, the fall would be clean and I would not be dragged by the stirrup.
Teacher’s quarters at Cookernup School were attached to the school. The location and living quarters were not attractive and we had many teachers due to them walking out. My dad once gave a hitch hiker a lift to Yarloop only to find out he was out teacher walking out.
In 1941 there was a polio epidemic and again in 1948. Sadly, Dowker Hardy was one who died of polio.
The Clifton girls, would escort me riding my bike to school and home. Their farm gate was a few hundred yards from the South Western Highway. Betty and Pat, daughters of George Hayward Clifton lived on ‘Woorarra’ farm on the north-west corner of Riverdale Road and the South West Highway, opposite the PWD Camp where I lived. Frequently, I was confronted with Army convoys going to the Harvey military camp [3rdAustralian Corps Training School]. My mum, Mary nee Northern, was on the other side of the highway making sure I did not make a dash for it. To fill in time I would gather honky nuts there and hurl them at the trucks for a bit of fun, much to the annoyance of Mum and the military escorts on motor bikes asking me to stop.
When the war started flax was grown down on the flat land west of Cookernup. Frank Hayward carted the flax to the fretting ponds and mill on the Highway just near the turnoff to Yarloop. Sometimes the brakes on his truck did not work and being war time spare parts were difficult to obtain. The Cookernup School was at the bottom of a hill so to overcome brake problems Frank used a log. Going down the hill safely he pulled the log, unhitched it at the foot of the hill, then on the way back with a load of flax he would re-hitch the log and tow it to the top of the hill.
Mr Hayward did a lot of truck work for my dad. He lived opposite the railway station on the west side. He was especially good at selecting jarrah trees for bridge building. The jarrah logs were under the decking where all the engineering and construction was. The purpose of the logs was to carry the load across the gap, be it an irrigation canal, drain or creek. In later years steel and concrete replaced timber.
The Hardy family and my parents were great friends. They had a gramophone player that fascinated me. How could an arm with a needle at the end resting on a spinning disc produce music? At hay time Mr Hardy would hire Mr Hayward’s truck. Dad drove and Mr Hardy and fellow farmers loaded the hay.
Dances were very popular in those days. Dancing was to a routine and set format. Mr Vernon Harris who owned the Cookernup store played his trumpet at the dances which fascinated me. Before dancing could commence we children had an important job to do – work the Weeties into the floor to make the floor more slippery to make dancing with flourish possible. We kids had to run about sliding and crunching the Weeties into the floor. The adults never gave us enough time to finish this important job. When the adults started dancing we were meant to lay down behind the piano and go to sleep.
Mum and Dad would attend dances at Yarloop. Mrs Driscoll ran a boarding house [known as the Old Boarding House, formerly the Palace Hotel] and Elaine, my sister, and I would go to sleep in her bed. After the dance we would be gathered up and driven home to Cookernup.
During the war, I remember Dad cutting tins to fit over the head lights of the ute to reduce visibility to the enemy. Likewise, we had to have dark or black curtains so that light in the house could not be seen from outside. I remember Civil Defence men calling out at night, ‘pull your curtains across or turn the light off’.
I loved the visits to Cookernup by Dr Knight and the ride back to his home in Yarloop in his Rover car. It had an iron roof, lots of buttons and above all, wind up windows.
Likewise, I loved it when Mr Potts, the Yarloop policeman, paid us a visit in his horse and sulky. He would judge his visit for last light then take Elaine and me back to Yarloop, with a lantern hanging on the back. Every so often he would speed the horses up a bit so that the steel shoes kicked up lots of sparks. Then Dad drove to Yarloop to bring us home.
Another Yarloop home that I loved was that of the Pitman family. The smell of the house was fantastic.
There was a Mr Archibald who worked at the Yarloop Workshops as a fitter and turner. At the time it was traditional to have tonsils removed, I and one of the Archibald boys were in Yarloop Hospital together to have our tonsils removed. Rather than having recovered and allowed to go home, I think we may have been evicted. Des (also known as Jim), one of the sons of the Yarloop Archibalds was an outstanding sportsman – he was a champion high school high jumper from 1950 to 1953 and played football for West Perth from 1954 to 1958.
Dad (John Archibald) joined up for the forces but got manpowered out to conduct essential services for the State. In some ways this was lucky as Mum began to become sick. Elaine and I were frequently hosted with the Clifton family or the Hardy family at Cookernup when she was in hospital. Mr Clifton, a great horseman, always wore a blue shirt. He said it kept the flies away. One time he said we were going to have 28 parrot pie for dinner. Gosh you need a lot of 28s for a dinner!
My parents and Mum’s sister, Elsie Northern, were great friends of Arthur and Elise Higgs manager of the Hoffman timber mill. Many years later I met them again through my aunt. Arthur was suffering with a serious back problem and much shorter than the strong man I remember him as. At the time they were going through a bad patch and I was able to help out. I was an Apexian and involved with the camp that Apex had at Rockingham for Apex events and dedicated for use by Civilian Widows and their children and I was Secretary of the Civilian Widows Association. At the time we were in need of a manager and the job came with accommodation. Elsie accepted the role that she managed expertly for a number of years.
The PWD at Cookernup
Now to go back to real reason for living at Cookernup. I do not know when we arrived. The purpose of being there was the PWD Camp, nowadays the corner of South West Highway and Logue Brook Dam Road. This site became the camp site for the men digging the irrigation canals. The site was chosen as a work site for the men to dig the irrigation canals by hand with shovels. The men lived in tents with bare earthen floors and their suit case on the ground. In those days nobody had transport so on the weekend they could not go home. Originally the working week was 48 hours i.e. six days. I remember the 44 hour week coming in. The men worked Saturday morning then back to the camp at midday. I remember the men going to and from work sitting on benches on the back of an open truck – rain or shine.
I have no memory of washing facilities or a camp mess for food, and likely there was none. I was forbidden to go to the camp but would often sneak there. I think the men enjoyed my visits as it gave them someone to talk to.
Our home was four tents joined together with timber floors. One tent had the kitchen. There was no bathroom and we bathed in a bath tub in front of the kitchen stove. There was no electricity supply to Cookernup when I lived there and certainly there was none at the PWD Camp where we lived. All light was from a Tilley lamp or a Chamber Oil Lamp. A Tilley lamp was a pressure lamp and starting it up was involved, in that the mantle had to be heated up before vaporized mentholated spirits could be ignited. A Tilly light gave an excellent light and could be carried from room to room.
With no electricity there was no household appliances such as beaters, vacuum cleaners and irons. Back in those days ironing required several irons with a removable handle. The irons sat on the stove heating up.
All cooking and heating was by burning wood. All cooking was in a wood-fired stove. The wood had to be cut using a cross cut saw, then split by axe. To cut up branches with an axe was a bit dangerous as the wood would go flying. Later, engine operated saws came in. The first were dangerous, then came the chainsaw – a much more versatile machine.
Dad bought an Electrolux kerosene operated refrigerator. I think it was the first in the district. My job was to refill the tank with kerosene and clean the wick weekly. Making ice-cream was a family affair with each member taking turns on the hand beater until their arms were worn out and then the next member took over. The interesting thing about the fridge was when Dad brought it home in the back of the ute with Doc his foreman, all of the men walked up from the camp to view this wondrous thing they had not seen before.
Irrigation Canals. Really, I have not much idea other than the men dug them with shovel by hand. The sides were always smooth and I have no idea how they got the batter and fall correct, no doubt it was checked regularly by dumpy level surveys. Maybe they had a wooden mold or some sort of framework with them to check batter. Likewise I have no idea how the concrete was laid. But I do remember many discussions Dad had with men on how careful they had to be with concrete joins to avoid leakages. Leakages lead to damage by gilgies digging out the soil underneath at point of leak and ultimately this led to a slab of concrete being lifted out by the water pressure. When this happened the water had to be turned off for repairs.
Me with my Dad’s staffs which are read through a dumpy level. The thinner one fits inside the larger. There is a thinner level that fits inside the smaller. Notice that the larger staff has a fair bit of numbering missing due to gilgie activity so the staff cannot be left in the water for long. With a dumpy level everything you read through is upside down so it takes a while to adjust. Photo: © Christopher Archibald.
Examples of a dumpy level (above) and case (below) made by Joseph Casartelli of Manchester, England, courtesy of Science Museum Group.[1]
Dad’s dumpy level was manufactured in 1910. It came in a wooden box as per this illustration. For use it was mounted on a wooden tripod. The knobs are the screws to adjust it to be perfectly level, then it could be used to read the staff. All readings from the dumpy level are upside down, i.e. no compensating prism to correct. Back in the 50s and 60s the State government was not into modern equipment.
HARVEY
This took place in 1942. We moved to Fourth Street, Harvey, a property owned by Paul Lethbridge where he had an orange orchard and ran beef cattle. He owned and lived on a property in Third Street. John Lowe also lived in Fourth Street on his parents’ farm. We became life-long friends and I got a lot of farming experience this way. John’s dad, Jack, and his mother were very kind to me.
This was the first house we had lived in. It had four rooms and a bath room and a woodchip bath heater to heat water for a bath. My challenge was to add chips to heat the water to just below boiling point. Misjudge and you had steam and boiling water spraying everywhere and unimpressed parents.
This house was so flash it had DC [direct current] electricity. At Fourth Street the light was good but by Seventh Street the light was dim and flickered. DC electricity does not transport far and electricity was supplied to Harvey by the Castenelli family.
Dad was away most of the time surveying the pipeline from Wellington Dam, Collie to supply the great southern wheat belt with water. His team was Les Rodgers, Camp Manager and Doc Svensen, his survey hand. Later Dad did the survey for pipelines from Serpentine Dam to Perth. Mrs Faith Rogers, wife of Les, who had a big house in Centennial Avenue looked after Elaine and me when Mum was in hospital. She continued looking after us for extended periods after Mum died in 1946 which included the times when Dad was away surveying.
Crash Landing. Late one afternoon, a small military plane was attempting a landing in a Lethbridge paddock virtually opposite Miss Heppingstone’s homestead which fronted Korijekup Avenue between Fourth and Fifth Streets. Unfortunately it clipped the power lines and nosedived into the paddock. I did see the plane sitting on its nose. Nobody was there so I went on home. I went back next morning and there was no sign of plane or any damage to powerlines. Nobody talked about it. I guess it was another military secret.
Raising Cockerals. Mum decided to raise cockerels and sell them. Dad built the pens and the vet showed him how to caponize the cockerels. When they reached table weight my job was to kill and dress the birds, and next morning balance the dressed birds on the handle bars of my bike and deliver them to the Harvey Hotel and Greens the butcher. Mr Gerald Durack, a member of the Durack family that owned the hotel, always gave me a lemon squash when I delivered the dressed chooks to him. That was special and I drank it in the bar. Mum would order the cockerels from Perth, 100 at a time, and after school I would pick them up from the railway station and take them home on the handle bars of my bike.
Milk in cans was picked up morning and night by the Cooper milk trucks and delivered to the milk factory. Here it was bulked into larger cans and placed on the nightly train to Perth so that Perth people had milk. Surplus milk was converted to condensed milk or cheese. Mr Cooper also ran the school bus to Bunbury High School. On school holidays the manager, Mr Mickle, would give me a job. The Harvey milk factory was the first factory to have tankers to cart milk to Perth daily. The unit was a semi-trailer, single axle Foden truck and a single axle tanker. On-farm refrigeration and vats were introduced to farms in July 1960. When installed, milk was then picked up daily and taken to the factory by tanker truck.
Harvey Rural Training School
By 1947 construction of Stirling Dam had recommenced, along with the irrigation canals being extended to Benger and Yarloop. Part of the former Harvey Internment Camp/ 3rd Australian Corps Training School site was taken over by the PWD and the Harvey Rural Training Centre, a training school for returned servicemen to learn about modern farming. The course was compulsory in order to be allocated a farm. Mr Tom Lutz was the officer in charge of this school and Mr Alfred Tunstill, the Secretary.
Tom Lutz and my dad were great friends. Mrs Lutz bred Cairn Terriers and gave one to my sister. I still have a Cairn Terrier today.
Trainees had to sleep on Cyclone stretcher beds which was no real comfort. I used to feel sorry for Dad’s workers sleeping on such rugged beds. At close of lessons each day the attendees had to do Physical Training i.e. at about 5 pm. They had to walk in to the pub and back to have a beer. I was not allowed to cross the bridge and enter the training school
The renovated hospital was the quarters for Mr Lutz and executive staff members. The site also housed the administration staff, the office headquarters and the workshops and mess for the senior officers. Dad must have discussed with the men that Elaine and I were allowed to have evening meals with executive officers. They must have been wonderful men and Elaine and I enjoyed meals with the men.
The PWD headquarters comprised office staff, builders, engineers and surveyors. Our quarters were an officer’s building converted to a flat. To my mind grand accommodation.
PWD in Harvey
Mention of the Harvey River Diversion is in Harvey history. Construction commenced during The Depression in late 1931 and completed in mid-1935. My dad was in charge of a section. The working week back then was 48 hours per week and men worked half time so that more men could earn money i.e. sharing. The men made alcohol using the white part of blackboy fronds. The Diversion was quickly dug from Harvey to the coast mostly by hand i.e. shovel and wheel barrow. Where The Diversion commenced near the Sunny West Cooperative Dairies factory in Roy Street there was a huge dragline that we kids played on. I believe two other draglines were used on other parts of the construction. I left Harvey in 1955 and the banks of The Diversion were piled high with soil dug out to form the diversion. Unlike a river, it ran in almost a straight line. Today all of the soil has been carted away for fill elsewhere and today The Diversion just looks like a river and draws no attention. Natural rivers twist and turn. I wonder how many people notice it runs in a straight line. The purpose of The Diversion was to prevent flooding of the coastal plain between Cookernup and Yarloop and Waroona. Several large drain were constructed.
I have mentioned draglines. I never saw a dragline digging an irrigational canal.
Ralph Torr who lived in Grieves Street had one and did a lot of PWD work. This work was for big wide drains or tidying up creek lines. Driving a dragline is very skillful in that the bucket is attached to wire ropes at the end of a long jib. The art was to throw the bucket to where needed then the cables would drag the bucket gathering soil towards the dragline. When full the bucket would be lifted, the dragline would then swing around to where the soil was to be dropped. I loved watching him work and his accuracy. Dad said he was an expert.
After the end of WW2 the digging of irrigation channels recommenced. Again digging was by hand and shovel. At the top of the POW camp and adjacent to the Johnson homestead the channel was very deep. I have no idea of depth. I remember Mr Richard Waddingham, Dad’s foreman, digging adjacent to the bridge and adjacent to the Johnson homestead at the highway throwing each shovel full to the top of the pile and my guess is this was 12 to 14 feet. This section near the Shrine built by the Italians (now the Internment Camp Memorial Shrine) was also at the end of one of the golf fairways. A few times I thought this was a way of making a few pence retrieving golf balls. The looser would throw me a few pennies when getting his golf ball back. I soon gave up as getting out of the deep drain was too difficult. This retrieval was only possible when water was not flowing down the canal.
The other feature of digging canals after the War was that much of the labour was from DP’s – Displaced Persons from war-torn areas of Europe. These men had to do two years of manual work before they were free to follow the occupations or job choice. Skilled and technical labour was hard to find after the War. Dad would often find that a DP on a shovel was a draftsman, surveyor or engineer, and so on. These special men were secreted into the office to use their skills. Inspectors were on the prowl and the art of the game was to know where they were. Often a workman would be rushed back to his shovel. Waroona had a large milk factory and the manager there would be looking for chemists, and laboratory technicians while Dad would be looking for surveyors, draughtsmen and welders. Dad and the Waroona manager worked together to spot trained specialists and know where the inspectors were.
After the war the Collie Coal Miners were frequently on strike. Trains were pulled by steam engines and strikes brought everything to a stop. The irrigation canals needed cement. Mick Hinge had a truck and he would leave Harvey at about 11pm, go to Perth and load concrete into tanks and be home before daylight. When the trains were running, Mick would pick up the cement in paper bags and take them to site. At this time traffic control was handed to Shires. The traffic inspector was always watching Mick believing he was overloading. Mick was up to the mark. When the inspector was in town, Mick loaded his truck with cement bags all around the side of the tray and several bags high. He got pulled up by the inspector who thought he had got Mick. Mick finally got him to climb up on the truck only to find the centre of the tray empty.
Dethridge Wheels. These were invented by John Dethridge in 1910 who lived in Victoria, Australia. They were designed to measure the amount of water delivered to a farmer. They were not installed at Harvey until, as I remember, the late 1950s. Prior to this, water delivered to farmers was by estimation. John Lowe and I would attend dances. About 10 pm we had to leave, take off our shoes, roll up our trousers and wade through the water in a paddock. After the delivery to another paddock, we would go back to the dance. Others did the same.
In 1951 Dad married Ivy Janet Grieves and he purchased a house in Grieves Street, Harvey. Ivy was the sister of Laurie Grieves who was a butcher and farmer of Harvey.
John Winter, the Olympic Champion High Jumper. I cannot pin point the time but soon after John won his Olympic Medal for high jump in 1948 in London he gave a display at the Harvey Show of his skills. Sadly it was at the far end of the oval and close to out of sight. I was interested and wanted to watch but he was out of sight. John was the only one jumping. Jumpers need to rest between jumps so the event was slow. I don’t remember any commentary being given which was a let-down to such a coup.
We lived in Grieves Street and the National Bank had a staff house alongside ours. John Winter and family arrived in Harvey in 1953. He was a National Bank Officer and lived in the bank house next door to our home so I knew him well.
Again, I don’t know the date but I guess I was about 18, the Harvey Show was coming up and John asked if I would be his clerk for the day of the show. I only remember two things. I got paid and the other was his maths ability. Pounds, shillings and pence was the currency at the time. John would add a column of figures up, three lines at a time and add these numbers to the sub total until he got to the bottom. I have never seen anyone else add this way. John went on to become a Branch Manager.
Dr Arthur Burkitt sewed my thumb back on when I cut it off with the axe. That day he caught a trout and the size was a State record. He asked, ‘do you want a short stumpy thumb or a long stiff one?’ I chose a long stiff one. I said if the long one does not work I will come back. I met him in Perth through wine clubs when he had retired.
Dr Stimson was the local doctor and his house was in the main street alongside the Coop.
My parents are buried in Harvey – Mum died in 1946 and is buried in the old Harvey Cemetery. Dad died in 1985 and Ivy, my step-mother, died in 2016, both are buried in the Harvey Lawn Cemetery.
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[1] https://collection.sciencemuseumgroup.org.uk/objects/co8406480/dumpy-level