Saving the Empire
When I was a boy in Box Hill, May 24th was one of the great days of the year. We looked forward to it for at least two weeks. It required all of that time to collect all the old boxes, garden clippings, branches that had come down from trees and old car tyres, in order to build the biggest bonfire on the back paddock possible. May 24th was Empire Day. The day was celebrated with huge bonfires in the back paddocks, with fireworks and crackers, catherine wheels, jumping jacks, tom thumbs and penny bungers.
Empire Day was also celebrated at school with some speeches, a visit from the Mayor of Box Hill or some soldier who had fought in World War I and was now an old man with medals on his chest, and when we gave three cheers for the King and sang the National Anthem.
I guess these days many people do not remember the words of the National Anthem. We used to sing all three verses with great gusto:
“God save our gracious King, Long live our noble King, God save the King! Send him victorious, Happy and glorious, Long to reign o’er us, God save the King.O Lord our God arise, Scatter his enemies, And make them fall! Confound their politics, Frustrate their knavish tricks, On Thee our hopes we fix, God save us all.
Thy choicest gifts in store, On him be pleased to pour, Long may he reign. May he defend our laws, And ever give us cause, To sing with heart and voice, God save the King.”
The flag was raised. The school stood at attention and saluted the flag. Placing hand over heart we would say:
“I love God and my country,
I honour the flag,
I will serve the King
And cheerfully obey my parents,
Teachers and the laws.”
Although, when we boys said it, we used to finish by saying “and cheerfully obey my parents, ... (silence) ..., and the laws”.
Empire Day 1946 was a great day for we all received a medal. The War was over. We had all played our part. We were victorious. The Empire had survived.
When Empire Day 1947 came along we were expecting another medal, but as there had not been another war the government gave us a cardboard Union Jack flag instead, with “Empire Day” written across the bottom. This was regarded as a very poor substitute. All those who were wanting a medal flicked their cardboard Union Jack flag away in disgust. I collected as many of the cards as I could, thinking that there was bound to be a purpose for them.
At this time, when I was eight, more than anything else, I wanted to have a real Scout belt made of leather with a silver joint one side from which you could hang a pocket knife and a silver buckle that had the words “Be Prepared”. I never had a scout belt but I did have a make believe leather belt that sort of looked like a Scout belt. What I really needed to hang on it was a leather pouch and in it a knife. My mother had said very clearly that there was no way she would ever allow me to have a long open blade knife and that was out of the question from the look in her eye. She said I could have a folding knife like Grandpa’s where the blades bent into the handle. The only place I knew that sold pocket knives was G.J. Coles & Co. Pty Ltd. They had a big sign on the verandah awning which said “Nothing Over Five Shillings” but as the paint of that sign looked very worn it was not surprising that everything that seemed good cost more than five shillings.
Right down the front of the counter where a boy could see them easily, they had glass dividers with pens, marbles, flints for cigarette lighters, razor blades and pocket knives. It was relatively easy in Coles to walk along dragging a hand behind you along the glass counter top with fingers that were able to dip down quickly, and without even looking, pick up a required item of interest without being caught in the act of shoplifting. But Coles was smart when it came to their little glass section on pocket knives. All the pocket knives with their shiny blades and celluloid handles were placed under a sheet of glass. One could only look with nose pressed against the glass dividers at the beautiful knives lying on some black velvet.
There was a magnificent Swiss army knife with leather pouch. It had a red handle with a white cross upon it. It had lots of blades and things. It had a shiny big blade that could be used for cutting off branches of a tree and a small blade that could be kept very sharp for any act of surgery that was required. I had asked my Grandfather why he kept the little blade on his knife so sharp and he had told me he used that blade when he “fixed” some of the tom cats in the area.
The Swiss army knife had a bottle opener on it, a saw blade and a file, and even a pair of scissors. There was a cork screw, a pig sticker and a thing for taking stones out of horses hooves. It was the most remarkable piece of mechanical engineering ever devised by man. With it a Scout could survive lost in the bush for months on end. If only a boy could have a Swiss army knife in a leather pouch on a real Scout belt that was the pinnacle of absolute bliss.
The price was ten and sixpence. It might as well have been a hundred guineas for all the hope I had of getting that much money. I was walking towards school having gazed in Coles counters one lunch time thinking about how I could raise ten and sixpence for the Scout knife when I was fingering the pile of Empire Day flags in my pocket. They reminded me of the plastic buttons they used to give us in the First Grade at school earlier on the War. We were asked to bring a shilling for the “Spitfires for Britain” fund. When we bought a shilling for the spitfire we were given a badge which we wore on our cardigans. It was our shillings from the Box Hill State School that saved Britain through the Spitfires we had bought for the Battle of Britain!
Suddenly an idea grew in my mind. Would people give a shilling to save the Empire and get a cardboard flag in return? It seemed a reasonable deal and I was bound to get enough people anxious to save the Empire to provide me with a Swiss army knife which could be used if ever another war broke out.
Turning away from school I went back up Station Street into the shopping centre and round the shops that I knew so well. In Clauscen’s Furniture Store Mr. Rasmussen agreed immediately and gave me a shilling. My heart leapt with joy. I almost ran into Patterson’s Shoe Store and asked Mr. Reid if he would give a shilling to help save the Empire and buy an Empire Day flag. He was a kindly man and gave me the shilling. Then over the road to Walters the butcher where Jacky Walters pressed the “No Sale” button on his cash register, took out a shilling and I traded him an Empire Day cardboard flag. Then another from Mr. Ellis, the florist, and the lady who was the receptionist for Marshall G. Tweedie, the dentist, gave me another shilling.
Suddenly I knew what it was to be a capitalist. I was a wealthy trader and very soon the Swiss army knife would be mine.
The next shop I went into was my downfall. Like a gambler who did not know when to quit, I went one shop too far. I should never have gone into that shop in the first place. It was in Main Street and was a shop that lent books to people in those days before there were public libraries. It was called the “Box Hill Hygienic Book Club”. It was a rather dark place and was run by a thin dark woman who wound her hair into a tight bun behind her head and always looked through small, steel rimmed spectacles. She did not like little boys.
The Box Hill Hygienic Book Club had written in gold on its front window a description of its services: “All books have a cover plate stuck on the front for easy identification. The front and back covers are lacquered. All books are fumigated before reissue. Three books per week for only one shilling.”
I opened the door and walked in. The little bell rang at the top of the door and the lady with the bun and steel rimmed glasses came from the back of the shop. I told her rather excitedly that she had an opportunity to save the Empire for only one shilling, the same price as borrowing three of her books. She examined the cardboard Union Jack flag very carefully, turning it over and over in her fingers. She quizzed me as to how many more I had and who had helped save the Empire before her turn. After finding out all of the information she asked me to wait there while she went out the back to get some money. I heard her ring the telephone.
In those days the telephone was on the wall. In my parents’ shop the ear receiver was on a long cord and I would stand on a chair because I was too small to speak into the mouthpiece without it. We turned a handle and told the operator what number we wanted. My parents’ shop number was 451 but in later years when Box Hill got more telephones it became 1451 and even later again WX 1451.
I waited until she finished her call. She came back and said she would get the shilling for me in a moment and asked if I would help her stack up some books. Being an agreeable sort of child I willingly helped her without any thought of recompense, stacking some books that had been brought back by borrowers. We had hardly finished stacking the books when the door opened, the little bell rang, and the Headmaster from the school was standing there.
I do not remember much what happened afterwards except I had to go with the Headmaster to every person in every shop, give them back their shilling, apologise for misleading them and listen to some very significant lectures about personal morality.
I did get the Swiss army knife eventually. Although I never got it as a child. When my own sons were growing up and became interested I not only bought them one, but one for myself. However, I never managed a real Scout belt with a buckle that said “Be Prepared”.
Have you ever wondered why there are no bonfires and fire crackers these days? It is because there is no Empire. And do you know why there is no Empire? Because people would not help me save it in 1947!
Well, that is what I reckoned as I walked up Bank Street, along the railway line to the top of the hill, to No.5 Miller Street, Box Hill, a great city which was only a village where the adults were kind and where the children grew up responsibly.
GORDON MOYES
