Chapter 1 of Rob Pyne: A Far Northern Life

4/13/2019 Sugar Town Life - Chapter 1 of Rob Pyne: A Far Northern Life
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Sugar Town
Re ecting on my life growing up in the sugar town of Edmonton led me to this quote by the
basketball legend Scottie Pippen. “As I look back, I have to say growing up was fun, not a problem at all.”
Gordonvale
Life began for me in the Far North Queensland sugar town of Gordonvale on the 23rd of April 1967.
Gordonvale, situated about 25 kilometres south of Cairns, was a small country town of about 2 000
people. The town had been part of the tribal land of the Yidinji people, Aboriginals who had lived in
the area for thousands of years. Initially the new European arrivals called the town Mulgrave, later
renaming it to Nelson. The name Gordonvale was nally settled on as a tribute to John Gordon, a
pioneer in the district who was a butcher, dairyman and grazier and early director of Mulgrave
Central Sugar Mill.
CH 1
Rob Pyne

Marion and Tom Pyne
Gordonvale’s most prominent geographical feature is Walsh’s Pyramid or Djarragun, as it is known to
the Yidinji. A cone shaped peak, rising 922m on the outskirts of the town, it resembles a small
volcano. In 1967 Gordonvale had, among other things, a sugar mill, four hotels, a tennis club, a police
station and two GPs, Dr. Janus Brody and Dr Raymond Davis.
To the north of Gordonvale lies the town of Edmonton. Situated halfway between Gordonvale and
Cairns, Edmonton had a smaller population than Gordonvale and a much smaller population than
Cairns, with its bustling metropolis of 54 000 people.
Edmonton also had a sugar mill and was typical of most sugar towns of that time. It had two pubs, the
Hambledon Hotel and the Grafton Hotel. There was a meat-works on the outskirts of town, which
along with the Hambledon Sugar Mill provided the main source of employment for Edmontonites.
The town also had a strong sense of community which was characteristic of most Queensland towns
of that era.
Love Match
Most signi cantly for me on the day of my birth, Gordonvale had
the nearest hospital to Edmonton, where my parents, Tom and
Marion lived. On the 23rd of April 1967, Tom Pyne and his
heavily pregnant wife Marion, both keen tennis players, were at
Norman Park in Gordonvale for a regular xture.
As luck should have it, another keen participant in the tennis
was, despite him having just one lung, the aforesaid Dr.
Raymond Davis. Not long into the day, labour pains led to my
parents and the man referred to simply as ‘Doc’ making a 400-
metre trip down Norman Street to the Gordonvale Hospital,
where I made my debut appearance.
Born as a result of a ‘love
match’ I had nonetheless
ruined Doc’s day of tennis, but he did hurriedly return to the court
for a few games. Perhaps Doc’s love of tennis was the reason I
remained uncircumcised, despite my mother’s request for the
cruelest of snips. My stay in Gordonvale was complete within the
week and I was taken to our home in the nearby sugar town of
Edmonton.

Home in Edmonton with sister Joann &
mother Marion
My sister Joann and Hillary
Edmonton
For Tom and Marion, I was the second child, my sister Joann having been born 7 years earlier. Home
was a small red brick house at 88 Mount Peter Road, the longest road in town.
Formerly known as Sawmill Pocket Road, Mount Peter Road started at the junction with Mill Road,
near the Bruce Highway. It ran for a mile before getting to our house. It then curled its way through
sugar-cane paddocks, ending in an old goldmine in Mount Peter, in the mountain range behind the
township.
At the time of my birth the small red brick house at no.88 was surrounded by a creek on the north
and east and cane paddocks on the south. To the west of our house lived my mother’s parents, Bob
O’Connell and May McKinnon, known to my sister and I simply as Grandad Bob and Nana.
The freshwater creek behind our house ran for at least half a year, our ‘wet season’. It was popular
with my sister and I and some of the children who visited us. There was a deep pond which we dived
into and swam in, which narrowed into rapids. I would often build dams in the rapids, creating a
freshwater spa in the rapids as the water collapsed over you. It was an idyllic backdrop for us
growing up.
Hillary
It was not long after my birth that my father was approached by a friend of his, Frank Barnard, a
widower with a young daughter.
Frank had received a job that only provided single
man’s accommodation. Dad was surprised when
Frank asked him if he would take on his 13-year-old
daughter Hillary, saying he knew living with our
family would be good for her. My parents agreed and
for me it was just like having another big sister in the
house.
Hillary lived with us for ve years before marrying
her childhood sweetheart John Pedrollo.
I cannot imagine a more carefree or relaxed lifestyle
than growing up in Edmonton in the 1970s, surrounded by cane elds and with close access to
tracks, trails, creeks and swimming holes. The small population ensured serenity for a young boy
adventuring throughout the landscape.

Sugar town life in Edmonton provided a peacefulness interrupted only occasionally by the cane
trains during harvest time. The harvest period was known as the ‘crushing season’ when locomotives
were loaded to take the sugar cane to the mill where it was crushed. Life was relaxed, and living was
easy. When the then leader of the Liberal Party, later to be Prime Minister Malcolm Fraser uttered
his most famous words in 1971 that “life was not meant to be easy” it was hard to believe him.
‘Doc’ Davis
Raymond James Davis (1926 – 2012)
Raymond James Davis (known to many simply as ‘Doc’) was the son of an English policeman
William Davis and his wife Germaine. Doc was born in Alexandria, Egypt where his father was
stationed. The family returned to England to live in Swindon, where the young Raymond
excelled at school. He received a scholarship to study at Kings College, London. ‘Doc’ married
his wife Jill in 1949. Unfortunately, he contracted TB post WW2. He had one lung removed and
spent long periods in rehab. Having one lung may have been the reason some local children
gave him the nickname ‘grasshopper’ for his unusual gait when on the tennis court. He ew to
Australia in late 1956, with Jill and their three children, Jon, Yvonne and Harry arriving by boat
as ‘Ten Pound Poms’ in 1957. Doc travelled to Sydney to collect them, returning to Gordonvale
with his family in an old battered Morris Minor, camping beside the road at night. In Gordonvale
he took up the Medical Superintendent’s job at Gordonvale Hospital. Raymond Davis died in
2012, his wife Jill having died a few years earlier. He left behind his ve children, (all adults with
families of their own by then) Jonathan, Harry, Yvonne, Paul and Tina. Losing one lung to
tuberculosis never slowed him down. While his contribution as a medical practitioner was
immense, I remember him for his humanity. For example, seeing itinerant people, often
Aboriginal, asleep in public areas was sadly not unusual. It was routine enough that most people
would simple walk past a motionless body on the footpath assuming intoxication or simply not
caring at all. Not Doc, he would stop, check for breathing and well-being. For him the
‘Hippocratic Oath’ was not a formality, it was his life.
Hambledon Mill
The sugar industry was not something I thought about a lot growing up, yet it was ever-present.
Looking back, the sugar industry in uenced everything from our economy to the landscape,
including many of the friendships people formed.
By the 1970s the sugar industry was transitioning to green harvesting. However cane res were still
commonplace. In decades past cane had been cut by hand and burning helped to rid the elds of
snakes and rats which carried the dreaded Weil’s disease. Many of the cane cutters, who harvested
the cane back then were migrants who had come to North Queensland from Italy and the Baltic
States.

The burning of sugar cane continued on many farms throughout my childhood. This was helpful for
harvesters, particularly where elds had large rocks or other hazards that may otherwise have been
hidden by the weeds and other vegetation known commonly as ‘trash’. In such situations burning
lessened the wear and tear on the harvester machines that had replaced the old cane cutter.
Despite the absence of cane cutting by hand when I was growing up, old cane knives could still be
found in the sheds of most people. I can well remember making a mess of the vegetation along our
creek with Grandad’s cane knife. It easily slipped through any green vegetation as I slashed a trail. I
imagined myself a colonial explorer in darkest Africa, as portrayed in movies of the day. Colonial
thinking was still a force at the time with Indigenous people regarded by many as inferior, while “God
Save The Queen” remained the national anthem.
During sugar-cane res, small particles of ash around ten centimeters long and roughly a centimeter
in width would oat from the cane elds and blow whichever way the wind sent them. Murphy’s law
dictated this was usually towards the nearest houses. Much to the distress of the women folk of the
town who had to clean after the ash oated through their windows and settled, invariably on newly
swept oors.
One of my rst childhood memories is of running in our yard, trying to catch as many pieces of ash as
I could, before they hit the ground, only to have them dissolve in my palm. I would later return home
with hands more black than white.
CSR Staff
Edmonton had as its hub the Hambledon Mill, lying to the west of the township. Located next to the
mill where houses for mill staff, all owned and paid for by the mighty Colonial Sugar Re ning
Company (CSR). This mill community, while owned by CSR was what the staff made of it. Mill staff
built their own swimming pool and tennis courts to enhance the area. The surrounding ‘Mill houses’
were overwhelmingly occupied by white collar staff such as accountants, chemists and managers.
My parents formed close bonds with several members of the CSR community. School vacations often
involved travelling with my parents down the Queensland coast to catch up with former Hambledon
Mill employees who had moved on to other mills. This included people like Allan and Carol Hughes
who moved to Ingham. Don and Vai Hamilton who moved to Mackay and David and Jill Sanders who
moved to Brisbane.
While the CSR mill community consisted of white
collar workers, blue collar workers, including
labourers, boilermakers, tters and turners and the
like lived in the town proper. I can’t remember any
class distinctions or petty snobbery between the two
groups, though it no doubt existed.

Allan and Carol Hughes
One of my early memories as a small child was
working on the ‘mill oat’ for our local parade, ‘Fun in
The Sun’. The oat consisted of not much more than a
atbed truck with sugar cane woven into circles and
decorative patterns.
Returning to this area today one nds a water slide
theme park known as Sugar World. It is hard to
recognise much at all from my bygone youth.
Memories are not the most reliable tool at the best of
times. However my lack of familiarity with much of
the landscape tells me that our experience of growing
up is as much a product of a time in history, as of a geographical location.
Hambledon State School
Hambledon State School was common of many sugar town schools throughout Queensland, yet in its
own way unique. The school was established in 1887 as the Black Fellow Creek Provisional School,
with an enrollment of 23 students.
This most politically incorrectly named school was relocated to its present location on Mill Road in
1910. It was renamed Hambledon State School. The name re ected the new location more than any
new age of enlightenment regarding treatment of the region’s rst people. The school’s buildings

were high set, which protected them from ooding and the underneath area was a cement base,
usable for students during recess.
Next to the school was the Principal’s residence that offered affordable accommodation for the
Principal and enhanced security for the school. The Principal provided passive surveillance of the
school after-hours. Such common-sense policies were indeed common, prior to the curse of neo-
liberalism infecting Queensland Politics, with its incomprehensible management lingo, asset sales
and privatisation.
The Principal when I started in 1973 was a Mr. Brady who looked very old to me. He can’t have been
the Principal for too long, as I was only caned by him once. It would have been thoroughly deserved
as many people in authority then and later found me to be at best annoying and at worst, a thorn in
their side.
State schools provided a community hub that brought together children from families throughout
the township. State education more broadly was the very machinery of social integration, bringing
together children from diverse cultural backgrounds, colour and class to learn and grow together.
Tom Murray
For those of us born in 1967, grade seven came in 1979 and the teacher was a Mr. Tom Murray. Just
above average height, like most men who were not in blue collar jobs, his attire consisted of a shirt
without a tie and what were described as ‘dress shorts’ and long socks pulled up to just below the
knee. This was the attire almost all white-collar workers wore during this era.
Tom Murray was the rst teacher whom I remember sincerely engaging in a two-way dialogue with
us as students. I found these discussions interesting and they made me keen to learn. Despite my
resistance to authority, I think like most problematic children I could tell when someone was sincere
and wanted to make a difference and I respected that. One such person was Mr. Tom Murray.
Tom Murray would have not been teaching for too long at that point. The Murray family had a cane
farm to the north of Edmonton and Tom’s father was also called Tom, as was my father. I don’t regret
being named Robert. I reckon it is great for names to skip a generation to avoid confusion. Tom
Murray Jr. grew up just north of Edmonton, in a cane farming family. As a teacher he encouraged
students to develop their speaking skills and have some knowledge of the world around them. He
also promoted civics and fostered community.
Ray Jones
One day Mr. Murray had the Member for Cairns, Ray Jones, address the class. Ray was a little battler
and came from a time when the ALP looked to its membership to locally select a candidate that was
respected and re ected the views of the area. Short in stature, Jones was the essence of working

class and never forgot he attended Parramatta State School in bare feet, re ecting his humble
background.
A feisty parliamentary performer, Ray Jones came from a Catholic family and was the Member for
Cairns at the time of the ‘great split’ of 1972. Even at the age of 12 I was thrilled that Mr. Murray had
organised for Ray to visit us and speak. In coming months Mr. Murray had us all take the podium and
speak about something we were knowledgeable and passionate about. I spoke about rugby league.
In 1988 at the age of 37 Tom Murray married. Much to our surprise he married one of our class of
1979, Kathy Walter. Kathy would have been 20 by then. To be honest I am not sure if this caused any
eyebrows to be raised, but I would sincerely doubt it. After all, if in a small country town like
Edmonton, any teacher who ruled out relations with former students may be at risk of celibacy.
My experience of state education was overwhelmingly positive and all the teachers, from Ms
Hancock and Arthur O’Doherty (may they rest in peace) to Anne Holden, Mal Macnie and Tom
Murray were rst rate educators. My positive view of Mr. Murray was shared by many and a park has
been named in his honour. It is where the family’s old cane farm was in the middle of what now is now
the sprawling suburb of Mount Sheridan. It is located just off Hardy Road and there is space for
children to run there, just as we did when it was cane land, so many years ago.
Tom Murray Park
Thomas John Murray (1951 – )
Born in Cairns in 1951 Tom Murray grew up on the family’s cane farm just north of the
township of Edmonton in the suburb now known as Bentley Park. Tom taught at Hambledon
State School in the 1970s and 80s. Tom married Kathy Walter from Edmonton in 1988. The
family farm was located at the intersection of Robert Rd and Hardy Road. Tom would also take
us camping and on long runs around and through the cane paddocks. A park in that area of
Mount Sheridan bears his name today.

Hambledon State School Year 7 Class of 1979
The Oliver family was a well-known Edmonton family. Unlike most families, their ancestors had lived
in the area not for a generation or two, but for thousands of years. This proud Yidinji family lived on
the corner of Graham Street and Mill Road. Alan Oliver was the family patriarch and worked for
Council.
I went to school with many of the children. Alan’s wife Mavis was a descendant of small people who
lived in the rain-forest on the Atherton Tablelands. Mavis and Allan had 6 children and their
daughter, also named Mavis, was in my class at school (bottom-right in above photo). As well as going
to school with Mavis, I knew the boys from rugby league. The boys were rugby league fanatics, as was
their father.
A Life Lesson from the Jones Boy
One day a small snowy haired boy by the name of Alan Jones transferred to our school. I remember
my mother saying he came from dif cult home circumstances. He made an impact on me
immediately when I saw him being bullied by a couple of the larger kids. I saw him get pushed over,
jump to his feet and get pushed over again. Young Alan then got up again and started swing punches
like a wind turbine during a cyclone! This was his response every time a larger child bullied him.
I am not sure how much damage the diminutive Jones boy did, but the bullies knew they would cop at
least a few swings and the tirade would take up a lot of time and energy so they never bullied him

again! I have always hated bullies, whether schoolyard, politics or in management.
This little Jones’ boy made such an impression on me that his response became a metaphor on how
to engage with bullies. Fighting back has cost me jobs and a career in politics, but I have never
forgotten the lesson I was taught by an 11-year-old snowy haired boy by the name of Jones. It really
is better to die on your feet than live on your knees.
Everyone Comes from Somewhere
The Far North Queensland we had come to know and love was unique and special, but very young.
Edmonton had for thousands of years been home of the Yidinji people. To the north were the
Yirrganydji and to the south east the Koonganji. Their traditional ways and movements stretched
back longer than anyone knew. But what kind of people moved here and why? Just as today, drivers
were escaping hardship, accessing opportunity and in some cases, a simple love of adventure. Marion
married Tom when she was eighteen and he was twenty. The marriage joined two pioneering
families, the Wienerts and the Pynes.
The Pynes
The Pyne name has been in Cairns since the early days of settlement. My great-great grandfather,
James Pyne, skippered the schooner “The Freddy” which plied the east coast waters, taking supplies
to the edgling settlements at Port Douglas and later Cairns. A true pioneer of the far north, he went
on to become one of the founding fathers of Cairns, at a time when it was being carved out of
mosquito-infested mangrove swamps. James Pyne, merchant, trader, entrepreneur, landowner,
industrialist and philanthropic businessman was an original member of the Cairns Divisional Board
(the local Council of the day).
His great grandson, my father Tom was born in 1935 in one of Australia’s most beautiful and wettest
of areas, the sugar town of Babinda. Nestled at the base of Mt Bartle Frere, Qld’s highest peak,
Babinda is 40 minutes south of Gordonvale.
Dad went to Bellenden Ker State School about nine miles north of Babinda. His father John (Jack)
owned a small cane farm at a place called Deeral. Jack and his wife Katherine were salt of the earth
people and taught young Tom that nothing comes from nothing. Their children were, young Jack, the
oldest of the brood, followed by Ethel, Frank and Grace, with Tom the youngest.

Katherine Armstrong (top left) with mother and sisters (circa 1920) prior to marrying Jack Pyne.
After the War, Frank was a member of the allied armed forces occupying Japan. While in Japan he
met and fell in love with a woman named Cheako. Such an occurrence was not unknown. Indeed, with
that many young men wedding, that the term ‘Japanese War Bride’ was born. Frank was keen but
must have been apprehensive about bringing his young Japanese bride home to the sugar town of
Gordonvale.
In post war Australia anti-Japanese sentiment remained strong. The hostility was real and raw, and in
some ways understandable. The treatment of Australian troops during the war had been truly
inhumane. So, when Kate Pyne went to the train station to welcome her son home and embraced his
new Japanese wife, there is every reason to believe her heart was breaking. However, that hug would
not have been just for the bene t of Frank or other family members. It was to send a message to any
other onlookers this woman is “one of us” and that love conquers all.
The Wienerts
On my mother’s matriarchal line, Johan Wienert was born on a boat making its way to Australia from
Germany in 1880. After arriving in Australia, his family settled in Cooktown. In true Aussie fashion,
Johan became Jack. He married another European arrival to the Far North, Johannah Thygesen
from Denmark. They had ve children, Wilma, Fred, Ernie, Christine and Harold. Christina my
grandmother. Born in Gordonvale on May Day (1 May) 1915, Christina Margaret May Wienert was
from that day known simply as May.
May married a Scottish man named McKinnon at the tender age of 18. McKinnon was a wanderer
and abandoned her with child, disappearing to parts unknown.
Bob O’Connell
Young May soon met my grandfather Robert (Bob) O’Connell and they fell in love, despite both
already being married to another.
st

My mother with May and Bob at 1937
Cairns Show
Bob was born into a catholic family living in Kenny Street in 1912.
Bob and May met during the depression and had not been together
long when war with the Japanese broke out. He resigned from his
exempted job as a bridge builder and joined the army. Along with
thousands of others, Bob was captured in the fall of Singapore,
spending the remainder of the war in Changi prisoner of war camp.
Fortunately for May, Bob made it home after the war and they raised
Isobel and Marion at their home in Mount Peter Road.
Bob O’Connell’s generation could well be described as ‘the great
generation’ for their contribution to our nation. They gave their all at
a time of war, when for those in Far North Queensland, the threat of
invasion was very real and the enemy was nervously close.
Like the other survivors from Changi, Bob returned home from the
war starved and emaciated. You could count every rib on him. He
carried a scar halfway between his shoulder and neck, the result of
not displaying the required respect to a Japanese soldier. The poor state of these men improved over
time.
While the physical scars disappeared, far more problematic were the emotional scars. Back then the
term ‘Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)’ had not yet been invented. Even if it had I doubt the
men of that era would have readily embraced it. The only thing that passed as medication for Robert
O’Connell during weekends and post retirement were two daily trips to the Hambledon Hotel, his
morning session and his afternoon session.
At the Hambo Bob O’Connell gave new meaning to the term regular. You could set your watch by his
arrival and departure during the morning and afternoon sessions. Fortunately, it was a straight line
from his home at 90 Mount Peter Road to the Hambo. Drink driving was not the concern back then it
became later. Some said his old Toyota Corolla knew the journey that well that it would have driven
itself to the pub and back regardless of whether he was at the wheel or not.
Bob and May were never able to wed as Bob had left his Catholic wife who would never divorce and
May would never hear from or be able to nd McKinnon to divorce him. So my mum was born out of
wedlock in 1937. However, Marion was a caring and giving woman, so in its wisdom the world
withheld the adjective bastard, only to apply it metaphorically to me as I took on the world on my
own terms.
Using an approach learnt from observing a small white haired boy at Hambledon State School, much
of my life would be about taking on bullies and combating authorities (often over stupid or unjust
rules). However my childhood years were a joy, both on Mount Peter Road and later during my life on
Main Street.

Sugar Slaves
Slavery (Blackbirding) in the Far North.
From the 1860s, the demand for labour in Queensland resulted in what was called
‘blackbirding’. Over a period of 40 years, from the mid-19th century to the early 20th century,
traders “recruited” Kanaka labourers for the sugar cane elds of Queensland, from Vanuatu,
the Solomon Islands, PNG, New Caledonia and Niue. The Queensland government tried to
regulate the trade. This required every ship engaged in recruiting labourers from the Paci c
islands to carry a person approved by the government to ensure that labourers were willingly
recruited. But such government observers were often corrupted by bonuses paid for labourers
‘recruited,’ or blinded by alcohol. They did little to prevent sea-captains from tricking islanders
on-board or otherwise engaging in kidnapping with violence. So many ships entered the
blackbirding trade that the British Navy sent ships into the Paci c to suppress the trade. By
1808 both Great Britain and the United States had prohibited the African slave trade. However
the British ships were not able to suppress the blackbirding trade. Between 1863 and 1904,
South Sea Islanders were brought to Australia to work in the sugar industry. They arrived at
several major ports along the eastern coastline including Brisbane, Maryborough, Bundaberg,
Rockhampton, Mackay, Bowen, Townsville, Innisfail and Cairns. Shipowner Robert Towns (c.
1794 – 11 April 1873) was the rst Australian to transport South Sea Islanders to Queensland
for cheap farm labour. The 67 aboard the Don Juan were the rst of an estimated 60,000 South
Sea Islanders transported to Australia. They arrived on 807 voyages from 80 islands to work
primarily on Queensland sugar development farms between 1863 and 1904. Some 30 per cent
of those brought to Australia later died because they lacked immunity to many of the diseases
common to the European community. Those that survived were treated as second-class
citizens. Thus, black slave labour built the sugar industry, at great human cost to those
transported.

Other Reference Material and Pictures

Tom and Marion Pyne

Marion Pyne holding baby Rob
Rob Pyne: A Far Northern Life

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