“Dad never worked at No. 7 because it was closed by the time we got there. He only worked the No. 8, at Puntledge. Dad never worked underground, he worked on top, on the tipple. Joel and I often rode our bikes from Bevan down to No. 8, and we always went at suppertime when dad was stopping. When the coal was brought up out of the mine, it was put on the tipple and from there it was dumped down into the coal cars below. The tipple separated the coal into three different sizes: big, medium and small pieces. It was just sheets of metal with holes in it that vibrated back and forth to sift the coal through. So of course, dad picked us up and let us sit on it – it was more fun than going to any fair, with all that coal going past!

“There were always accidents. Even as kids it was upsetting when we heard the whistle blow; it meant there had been an accident in the mine. There could have been an explosion or other disaster and our hearts would stop, because in such a small place we would know the dad that got hurt. They worked, laying flat down on their tummies, until they got a hole big enough to expand. Can you imagine being trapped in there and having a seam of coal falling down around you? They could not pay me enough money to work down there!

“One time dad took us down in a coal car, just far enough so we were covered by the shaft, because he wanted to show us the stars during the day. I said ‘No way, you can not see stars during the day!’ but sure enough if you went into the shaft during the day and looked up, you could see the stars because it was so dark. We thought, man! He was so smart!

“One day, dad, Joe and I had been down by the river fishing and on the way back we stopped at Nibs Walker’s. Nibs had a big vat outside that he made moonshine in. dad went to talk to Nibs and I wandered over to the vat to have a look. Well, I looked in and there was a cat in there, I could see the hair floating on top. So, I called ‘hey, dad, there is a cat in here!’ Dad and Nibs came over to see and Nibs said ‘I wondered where that son-of-a-gun went to!’ He grabbed the cat by the tail, swung it around two or three times, and let it go! We did not stay much longer after that. When we left, we did not get far down the road before dad got sick. I mean really sick. Joe and I knew what caused it and laughed and laughed.

“Bevan was a good place to live, the people who lived there made it special. We had bonfires and we would each bring a potato to put in the fire to roast, and everybody just sat around the fire. These things were not even planned, they just happened, everyone just came and were welcome. The men usually got something going - a bonfire - or everyone went down to the beach. There was the community hall where you could learn how to tumble, juggle or play other games. Nobody was ever bored, there was always something happening. We went to Kye Bay every year; the whole town was there. It was a big picnic for the people of Bevan. I do not know if they rented buses or what, because not everyone had a car.

“If someone got hurt and could not work, Bevan would hold a dance. People brought plates of food and the family was given money collected at the door. One time, Auntie Evelyn, dad’s sister from California came to visit. That was such a long way away, it seemed back then. Dad did not know she was coming, so we were all allowed to stay up until eleven to see his face when he came home. He came in, hung up his coat and then went toward the kitchen. When he looked up and saw Ev, he got all excited and went over to pick her up and swing her around. Well, mum kept the floors polished, with braided rugs on them. Dad slipped on a rug, fell onto the wood-burning stove and burned himself all up and under his arm. I remember they had a dance for us.

“Bevan was a good place. Times were hard and we were poor, but I would take my kids back with me, if I could.”