I would presume that Rockwell Paddock would intrude to the outskirts of South Broken Hill in those days. Also at this time the Victorian Milk Supply Co. was sending milk in concentrated form to two vendors namely Frederick Cory of Eyre Street, South Broken Hull and William James Bowker, Central Street, South Broken Hill who was one of the founders at a later date of golden North Dairies at Laura, South Australia in 1900._ Further dairy applications were granted in October 1893 to Elizabeth Ann Simmons of Ryan Street and Sophia Edwards of South Broken Hill; but an application by Pearce Croak, 259 Gaffney Street was refused because the large dam on his block collects the surface water from about seventy five backyards and is little better than sewage and totally unfit for dairy use. So we find up until the turn of the century there may have been up to 28 or 30 dairies in the true sense operating as dairies and perhaps another 5 or 6 solely receiving milk and selling as vendors. The milko had a hard life. Rise at 4.30a.m and help to milk the twenty cows, which was the average dairy herd. As soon as enough milk was available from the milking he would harness the horse in the float and start his delivery. Who will ever forget the clip clop of the milk float horse during cold winter mornings, and the rattle of the milk cans as the milky with gallon can in one hand and torch or hurricane lamp in the other came running from house to house, reaching over your front fence for the billy-can hanging on the nail, and pouring in your two or three pints. Some people, if they lived in a honest neighbourhood, left the right amount of money in the billy-can overnight, but it was not unknown for some to have their money taken by someone other than the milkman, in which case they reverted to fortnightly payments, usually on the Monday following pay-day. After finishing his delivery the milkman would have to groom and feed his horse then set about scalding out the milk cans for which the wood copper would have to be stoked up as hot water systems were still a dream of the future. Then the cow bails must be hosed down and cleaned. In your spare time you went collecting on a bike from the customers who paid fortnightly. And all of this for fifty cents a week. Yes, he sure had a hard life. Despite this, a small gift was delivered to each customer at Christmas-time. In the 1930's dairies were so plentiful in the Railwaytown area that the dairy hands formed their own cricket team and played in a Sunday competition. They laid a concrete pitch on several vacant house blocks situated between Pell Street and Pell Lane adjacent to Nicholls Street. They called themselves the Dairy Stars. Today there are houses built upon it. Regular 'on the spot' milk inspections were made at any time on the street and samples taken from the milk can and tested for adulterated milk. By law I believed the can could contain one part water to ten parts milk, and many were the milkmen who found to their dismay that for various reasons their product did not measure up to standard. One Health Inspector who was the dread of the milkmen was Mr. Wallace, commonly called "Flytox," which nickname was earned by his persistence in saying, when he was inspecting a dairy, "You want a squirt of Flytox here" or "this area needs fly toxing". Many were the epithets heaped on his head. Each milkman would warn the others with "look out Fly Tox is around". One dairyman told me that the Health Inspector showed him samples of the milk cartons months before they were in use. The Inspector's comment was "these little fellows are going to put you chaps out of business. The milk will come from the factory packed in these and people won't need to take a container to the shop any longer to get their milk." Now today we all know how true the Inspector's prophecy was. CONTINUE |