The Pencil Case

by Lorraine Cobcroft

  Ern nodded. “Never give up. One day you may just catch that brass ring.”

  I gave a cynical little chuckle. “Or maybe I’ll finally find some way to end the nightmare of confusion and just be me, whoever me may be.”

  I smiled then, as a curious feeling of satisfaction and relief washed over me. “I got one thing right though, Ern. An achievement few can lay claim to in today’s world and certainly not too many waifs or urchins managed. It took a very long time, but I eventually learnt how to love and care. I made a success of marriage and raising kids. My dad once said the only thing we have control over, ultimately, is our attitude to life and the way we treat others. If he could see me today, I think he’d say I did OK. I’ve had a fortunate life despite all the setbacks. I never let the bastards break my spirit, and I did finally exact my revenge. The sweetest revenge of all: I lived a good life, in spite of all the condemnations and the efforts of so many to break me.”

  I lifted my case from the boot and checked my watch. A small plane pelted down the runway, skidded, turned into the taxiway, and glided to a halt. Inside the terminal building, the loudspeaker crackled.

  “They’ll be calling my flight shortly.” I swapped my case to my left hand and extended my right. “Drive safely, Ern.”

  “I will if you return my keys,” Ern laughed.

  I grinned and fished in my pocket. “Thanks for letting me drive. It’s a damn fine car,” I said, passing him the engraved silver ring.

  The sleek black Roller Ghost slid out of the parking lot, swung on to the main road, and disappeared in a mist of grey and dust. Watching, I felt a familiar emptiness engulf me. A dull, hollow ache started low in my belly and worked its way slowly up to squeeze my chest, dry my mouth and make my forehead pulse.

  Black Ghost leaving. Demons finally departing, or Paul once again deposited at the door of a new life, with all the fear, threats, challenges, heartaches, uncertainty and promise that encompassed?

  Court rooms. Interrogation. Pompous arseholes in long white wigs slamming gavels to confirm declarations that rupture the fabric of a family’s reality, break spirits, kill souls. And Ern Stanley and his cronies, cash–register eyes popping and tallying, contemplating satisfying intellectual battles and fat pay cheques.

  Endeavour, frustration, but the ever–enduring hope that, one day, if you play the odds right, that horse your hopes are riding on just might romp home. And what will you do then? Watch some game–playing arsehole exploit the system to take it all away from you, then pick yourself up and stake your hopes on another.

  “It’s all bullshit, Dad,” I muttered aloud. “You just gotta enjoy the journey and be happy.”

  #####

  ENDNOTES

  1. Official N.S.W. Government records, finally released to “Paul” (not his real name) shortly after his 60th birthday, reveal that the primary reason for his removal was that his family couldn’t afford enough blankets for each of their five children to sleep in separate beds.

  The legal account of the children’s removal begs the question why the social worker didn’t assist their father to claim the veteran’s pension rightly due to a man who had returned, after three years in a war prison, with shrapnel wounds to his legs, tuberculosis, and no doubt psychological ailments resulting from fear and abuse during incarceration. Despite suffering years of illness, “Fred” went to his grave in his late 60s without ever collecting a cent of his well-earned entitlement. His offspring fought for almost a year before his daughter- in-law finally succeeded in persuading a Federal Government agency to grant his wife a war widow’s pension.

  While accusing “Paul’s” parents of neglect, social workers allowed two baby boys to remain at home in their parents’ care, and records indicate that they never followed up to check on the welfare of those children, who, along with six younger siblings born after Paul’s removal, grew up healthy, loved and happy and in awe of the parents they adored.

  2. The name of the child has been changed, but Robbie’s story is based on a truthful account told by the author’s mother after witnessing a young boy suffering severe punishment for taking a hoe and doing an excellent job of weeding the orphanage gardens.

  3. It is noteworthy that official records note that the children were charged and convicted of the offence of being neglected, and were sentenced to “be of good behaviour” during a period of incarceration. That record has never been expunged.

  4. The accounts of conditions in the orphanage were verified from multiple sources, including the author’s first-hand observations as a regular visitor, and accounts provided by past employees of St Patrick’s, including the stand-in cook who sought to serve milk pudding to the children. Much of what is written here is verified in official records accrued through a Government project that involved interviewing adults who grew up in orphanages and children’s homes, and a past employee of St Patrick’s.

  Unlike children in many Homes throughout the country, residents at St Patrick’s did not suffer sexual abuse.

  5. “Father Joseph” is a fictional character, based on a real priest who worked hard to instigate reform at St Patrick’s and who showed the children kindness . The story of the girl being beaten for stealing a sip of orange juice is a factual account of an incident in the early ’70s, witnessed by the author’s mother.

  6. “Paul” remembered vividly the day the nuns locked the children in the dormitories claiming a prowler presented danger. He recalled seeing the man from a distance, through an upstairs window, but he wasn’t close enough to recognise his father. He learnt of his father’s visit from a brother about 16 years after the event.

  7. “Paul” deliberately wiped the negative experiences on the Moree farm from his memory, remembering only that he went with a friend on a farm holiday. He recalled what actually transpired when, in 2008, he was finally allowed to read the (previously legally withheld) official records of his youth in incarceration, and found a section blacked out by authorities who were withholding the information in that section to protect the privacy of third parties.

  8. “Fran” actually talked with the hawker through a translator, and heard her story just as it is told here. Many years later, when her father-in-law was close to death, he spoke to her for the first time about his war experiences, detailing the girl’s remarkable kindness to him and crediting her for saving his life. He wept when “Fran” told him she had met his angel. The story of this remarkable coincidence was first told in a short story titled “SuSu”, written by the author when she was in her mid-20s.

  9. While it is true that “Paul’’ was cheated out of his deferred pay for the first two years of army service, he actually remained unaware that the State had stolen his pay until, in about 2007, he met up with a man he had served with in Singapore and who had also been an apprentice at Balcombe. When this man mentioned how he had considered investing the lump sum payment he received on graduation, “Paul’’ was shocked. About a year later, at an army band corp reunion, he asked others for confirmation of the payment. Their responses confirmed, some 30 years after the event, that --- by accepting and retaining the payment the army made to the Child Welfare Department as Paul’s trustee --- the State had robbed him of his pay.

  10. Official records include a notation that the judge ordered “Paul’’ committed to care until he was 12 years of age. There was no order relating to his care past that date. His file also includes a record of a social worker’s interview with his parents shortly before his 12th birthday. That record is signed by his mother. A few pages further on, a Statutory Declaration signed by the social worker declares that his parents could not be located and “in these unfortunate circumstances, the boy must remain in care”.

  Siblings recall social worker visits, including one made shortly before “Paul’’ joined the army. They recall his father going raging mad at the suggestion that a son of his might be a soldier, and adamantly refusing consent for him to join. The official records state that the Commissioner for Chi
ld Welfare was asked to sign the consent for “Paul’’ to join the army, because social workers again lied, claiming his parents could not be found.

  There has been considerable speculation about the motives for these lies. Ultimately, the conclusion drawn --- and supported by a retired social worker who worked in the system at the time --- was that the department’s budget and thus social workers’ jobs depended on retaining as many children as possible in care. Also, children’s homes profited from receipt of government support payments for kids in care, by spending far less than the allowance, providing subsistence diets, donated old clothing, and virtually no health or educational benefits. Those running the homes were known to offer generous gifts to social workers --- possibly as an incentive to bring in more children, and thus increased Government payments.

  GLOSSARY

  ANZUK servicemen: Servicemen in the Australian, New Zealand and United Kingdom forces.

  Billy: A small, tin bucket with handle, typically hung over a fire to boil water and to make tea.

  Boozer (slang): A bar; a place where alcohol is served.

  Craybobs: Freshwater crayfish.

  Damper: A traditional Australian soda bread prepared by swagmen, drovers, stockmen and other travellers. It consists of a wheat–flour–based bread, traditionally baked in the coals of a campfire.

  Holsworthy: A notoriously harsh Australian military prison.

  Jack–rabbiting: Running and jumping in a manner similar to a rabbit running from a threat.

  Kissing crust: When an unsliced loaf of bread is broken through the centre, the first slice from the middle on each side is uneven but soft. This is referred to as the ‘kissing crust’ (Otherwise known as the ‘fly crust’).

  Kombi: A panel van/mini bus produced by Volkswagen and introduced in 1950.

  Laminex: A plastic–like, washable–surface sheeting typically applied to table tops and kitchen counters.

  Linoleum: (informally abbreviated to lino) An extremely durable floor covering made from renewable materials, most commonly on a burlap or canvas backing; popularly used to cover kitchen, bathroom and laundry floors.

  Motza (slang): Much, a great deal.

  Nappies: Short for napkins, a term used in Australia for babies’ diapers.

  Removal policies: Social policies that endorsed the removal of children from their family homes by welfare workers who claimed to find evidence of neglect or abuse. Removed children were incarcerated in institutions or sent to foster homes where many suffered severe deprivation and emotional, physical and often sexual abuse. Such policies, which were in effect in Australia from the 1920s to the early 1970s, often resulted in the improper removal (theft) of children from families affected by poverty, illness or temporary incapacity.

  Rounders: A game played with a bat and ball, somewhat similar to baseball.

  Steelie: A marble made of a silver–coloured metal such as steel, used in a game of marbles.

  Six of the best: A term used to refer to a punishment typically inflicted on school–boys in Australia up to the late 1960s. It usually consisted of six strokes of the cane on the open palms, usually three strokes on each hand. On occasions, the cane was applied to the buttocks or a belt, strap or ruler was used.

  Stolen Generation: A term controversially used to refer to Aboriginal children stolen from their families, allegedly to integrate them into white society. The term is not typically used in reference to white stolen children. It is not officially recognised that white children were stolen. The wrongful implication that white children were taken for cause, and should blame their parents, compounds the pain stolen whites suffer.

  The pictures (as in “into town to the… ”): The movie theatre.

  Towser: A small boy.

  Utility (or ute): A small coupe–style truck.

  Yabbies: Another term used for craybobs (freshwater crayfish).

  ~~~~

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  When I began to write this book, the man on whom the character Paul Wilson is based recorded this account of his experience:

  A Child Welfare Inspector burst into my family home in September, 1956.

  He burst in like Satan, unannounced and unwelcome, into an idyllic world. He came to tear that world to shreds, destroying my father’s pride and strength, parting loved ones, bringing terror and darkness to a world that had known neither.

  I didn’t understand the persistent explanations or the promises the man made. The significance of the courtroom and the black–robed man with worried brow escaped me, except that it brought indescribable fear. The kindly social worker lady terrified me, and her words confused. I understood only my dad’s angry scowls, cursing, spitting and tears; my sisters’ sobs, and my own terror.

  Weeks of hunger and cold were forgotten. My father’s black moods were permanently erased from my memory. Only boyhood adventure, Dad’s tall tales and the warmth of my mother’s hugs were stamped indelibly on my young mind as a black sedan urged forward, carrying me into a terrifying unknown.

  On 8th October, 1956, a month before my eighth birthday, two sisters#Endnote and I were charged in a N.S.W. Children’s Court with the crime of being neglected children. I was sentenced to four year’s incarceration in a Children’s Home.

  Twice my sentence was extended as a consequence of a social worker’s lies. Ultimately, I was deprived of my freedom for 17 years, and as a consequence, denied the right to choose my career or my destiny.

  In April 1974 --- aged 26 and a father of two --- I found my parents, two brothers I last saw as infants, and six younger siblings I had never known. I was welcomed back into a poor but happy, loving family in which eight children had grown up healthy, happy and emotionally well–adjusted. I learnt to know and deeply love a father who had walked 73 miles each way to try to find me and take me home, only to face cruel lies and be turned away without seeing the little boy who peered, unknowingly, from an upstairs window, at the shadowy figure of his dad.

  Forced to suffer the most awful pain life can inflict on a woman, my mother, in her own words, “had other children to care for, so just had to keep on, somehow”, but cried herself to sleep every night for 18 years, and probably many nights thereafter, still haunted by misplaced guilt and bad memories. Where did she find the strength and courage to get up every morning?

  On February 13, 2008, Prime Minister Kevin Rudd apologised to the so–called Stolen Generation. He didn’t apologise to me or to thousands of other stolen Australians. He didn’t apologise to my parents for the indescribable agony of being denied all knowledge of the whereabouts or well-being of their offspring.

  I was stolen --- twice. I am a white, native–born, fifth–generation Australian.

  I learnt the full extent of bureaucratic bungling and heartlessness on 6th April 2008, when, for the first time, I was permitted to read the records of my youth. I learnt the reason for my removal was that my war–injured father, unaware of veteran pension entitlements and never assisted to secure them --- even in his infirm old age --- couldn’t afford enough blankets to provide each of his five children with their own separate bed.

  I inquired about suing the N.S.W. Government for kidnapping and wrongful incarceration. I was advised that it was too late. The effluxion of time would be deemed to have compromised the Government’s defence. By withholding records for 52 years, wrongdoers apparently escape all obligations to answer for their crimes and successfully deny their victims the right to redress.

  In November 2009, Mr Rudd made a hollow, low–key apology for the abuse and deprivation I suffered while “in care”. There was no apology for the greatest hurt of all. On 8th October 1956, I was deprived of a fundamental and essential right of all human beings: the right to be me.

  Thousands of white Australians were stolen from families by negligent or misguided child welfare authorities, often for no better reason than because families were poor. Welfare workers not only removed children in preference to implementing other readily–available and co
st–effective remedies --- such as helping parents access benefits to which they were legally entitled --- but often lied to keep children in care. Boosting the number of children in care ensured funds continued to flow to the Government department that kept welfare workers employed. Many workers received generous gifts from the Homes that operated at substantial profit by depriving children of all but the most basic essentials.

  In addition to the many benefits accessible to Aborigines solely on the basis of their race, a formal apology has been made to those Aborigines who claim to have been stolen and to their descendants. Stolen whites have received neither formal acknowledgement nor compensation. In some States, minor compensation has been paid to men and women who suffered abuse as children in institutional or foster care, but those incarcerated in N.S.W. institutions received nothing.

  Unlike Aborigines, stolen whites enjoy neither the support of the “mob’’, nor public sympathy generated by very public outcries about the injustices they suffered. Taught to be ashamed of their past, most kept to themselves and kept their childhood and family history a guilty secret. Generally poorly educated and skilled, and often suffering health issues as a result of childhood abuse and deprivation, they were prevented by financial challenges both from seeking out fellow victims and from pursuing legal remedy. More recently, groups such as CLAN have publicised the abuse many suffered in institutions, but have failed to expose the ugliest truths of past sins against children and have been unsuccessful in persuading governments to make reparation or offer realistic aid. Despite strong recommendations from the Federal Senate, the N.S.W. Government continues to refuse compensation or assistance. CLAN has, however, succeeded in easing the feeling of shame and facilitated reunions of men and women who grew up together and share unique bonds.