THE BAD OLD DAYS.

Taranaki Daily News, 18 December 1930, Page 9 (Supplement)

THE BAD OLD DAYS.

A* CHRISTMAS STORY (By “Paritutu.”) “It’s these here motor cars, and these, here motor 'floats’ that’s ruined the little country race • meetings,” said .Big Bill,, taking up his fifth pint.,- He sighed heavily. Bill had something on his mind, absorbed about one half of its contents, wiped his straggly moustache on the back of his hand, and that w’as certain, and we-waited expectantly. The company in Flannigan’s bar parlour that Christmas evening comprised Flannigan (who looked as if he hoped the “sitting”, would not be. a long <jne), Big Bill (the greatest beer-sponger in Ranga), “'Sparks” (the local electrician), a couple of “flaxies” and a commercial traveller who stopped here over Christmas, probably because he had no home. /Things were dull, remarkably dull, and, having nothing better tq do, we “stood” Big Bill’s longwinded yarns.“Race week in this here town ain’t what it used to be thirty or forty, years ago,” said Bill.' “Why! You wouldn’t think that this was Christmas Day, and that the races were to-morrow.” Bill applied himself to his ‘handle,’ and went on. “Once upon a time—that was m the bad old days —this little town used to be full of horseowners, trainers, jockeys, guessers, bookies, and blokes ‘blewing cheques’ for ' a week before. Christmas-—and for a week afterwards, if they had any luck at the races. The pubs would be chock-a-bloek night and day, and the billiard rooms never closed either. A piano would be working overtime in this here; parlour, and the rattle of sovereigns on the bar counter would almost drown the music. Every loose-box in /town would be engaged months before, and shakedowns were at a premium. A chap could get a good, game of poker, or solo,- or two-up almost anywhere. There was a general feeling of good cheer, and everybody: was happy.” The' commei‘cia'l turned it on again, and Bill got properly into his stride. “Nowadays,” he said, “they roll along on the morning of the races, and at night they float- off again. -Racing makes no difference whatever; but it was-' different in the days of which I am telling you.” ’ . “Go on, Bill. Tell us what-happened then,’’ urged the “flaxie,” and, setting his empty handle down (significantly), Bill went on. 1 “You might nbt believe it,” he -said, “but I’ve seen some hectic' times in this: Here town in the nineties, and in this here pub too, for the matter of that. Old Brown kept the ‘joint’ then, but his missus was really .the boss. And didn’t she used to go crook with, him when he tried' to join the ‘band,’ or got round more than. Was- good for him. Remember the dime that: the missus locked him out. Fancy being shut out of your own. pub! Well, Brown was well and truly ‘primed,’ and after belting at the front door—you’ can see the'marks still there” —for half an hour, .he got the axe and-triei to : ■ chop the verandah posts down. ~ \ t " “They took the weapon off him, : and told him .' to go down to the.shed at the bottom of the yard, and sleep.it off. /But .not-him! . Chopping up a lbt of manuka sticks, he piled them, alongside the back of the pub, and set fire to them! Immediatelv there was a terrible hullaballo. • The pub was ofd and as dry as the hills,\ and while Brown danced around shouting, “If she'; won't let me.' in for a ‘spot,’ nobody else will get one anyhow!’’ All hands - rushed out to save the- .place. : I tell - yoaf it was ■' hard work. The tanks were’almost empty, as they ■ always are at this time of the year, and at: the . finish we had to put the 'blaze, out with beer. A

sacrifice, some reckoned, but it was that or nothing. "That left the pub short of grog, and Mrs. Brown told us that we would, have to ‘go easy.’ 'So all retired to the big room upstairs, and started a game of poker. There were four shake-downs in that, room, aiid all were ‘double-banked’ except one. That was nearest the door, and ‘Bully’ Jones, the champeen boxer from Wanganui, had the ‘sole rights’ of it. The game had not been going long before in walks a young chap from the King Country, and he asks if there’s a vacant bed anywhere about. You’d a thought he was the. mayor of Karioi, the style he put, bn. But the poor fellow was plainly' suffering from an attack of ‘home brew,’ and we didn’t have the heart to refuse him, so pointed to ‘Bully’s’ bed. ‘Bully’ was down at the stables, bedding his bag of bones down for the night. The stranger peeled off to the buff, and turned in.

“By and by /Bully’ comes up the stairs, so we all got interested in the game'.’ He sights the push, and starts to rouse about playing cards in his—his, mind you—bedroom, but Aomeone in. ..the far, dark corner advises him to ‘shut up arid go to bed.’ Then ‘Bully’ spots the chap in his bunk. His eyes stood out, his neck swelled, and his hands twitched. I thought he was going to have a fit. With a howl of rage he catches the poor bloke by the heels, drags him out on ,to the landing, and fires him head first down 'the stairs. Mrs. Brown rushes out to see who is being murdered, and faints on the spot. “But the chap wasn’t hurt much. The quack only had to put a dozen stitches in his head. Blokes were made of tougher stuff those days,” he added. The drinks were replenished, and Bill went on with the tale.

“Just about that time four flash trainers, one of them from Taranaki, blows in. They had been up at the track getting off a trial when nobody was about. It was about a' quarter past seven when they arrived, and tea was ‘off.’ But they goes upstairs to change, of course, and one . by one they comes down again. The first tries the dining room door, but finds it locked. He wanders off to the kitchen, where Emily, the cook, was on her knees in front of the range, doing her best with .a bucket of dirty water and a rag to clean up the grease and soot.

“ ‘How’s it for a bit of tea?’ he asks in his ‘ politest manner. ‘You’ll get tea, at this, time of night!’ replies Emily, menacingly. ‘Come , on; like a good girl,’ he says; ‘a bit of cold fowl or . something will do!’ But Emily made a swipe at him with the rag, and, seeing that she was not in the mood for cajolery, he retired hastily to the passage. Then down comes trainer No. 2. ‘Had tea?’ he inquired. ‘Too right!’ replied No. 1; ‘there’s a nice girl in the kitchen who will get you. anything you want if you ask her properly.’ No. 2 boldly enters,, and the kitchen comedy is repeated—with extras. No. 2 was no sooner out than No. 3 strolls along, and. on being told by his confreres that ‘everything is right,’ makes his entry into the region of pots and pahs. Emily, hy this time, is getting ‘real wild,’ and throws out threats of throwing the mcket of greasy water over the next intruder. -The last to arrive, No. 4, looks as if he has just stepped oiit of Herb. Price's. ‘Any luck?’ he asks. ‘All serene,’ they tell him, and in. he goes. Then—swish nu . splash ~i ►. bang ~ wallop!. He got the lot,

And as a dripping figure dashed through the door, he fell over his three laughing companions. Nobody else disturbed Emily, that.-night. “Then'there was a half-witted boundary rider, or something of the' sort, who rolled in One night just as wp were-getting into line'tb have ‘ shilling in.’ jHe had a dog .with-him—a great; big, black dog —the cleverest I ever saw. They say he used to spend hours teaching that dog tricks, and what it didn’t know wasn't worth knowing, Well, this newcomer butts ;'in with:. ‘Just in .lime, am I?’ And we says, ’Yes. If you’ve'..got the necessary.’ He produces a two-bob piece, 'and .gets into line. Then, blow me if his dog doesn’t squeeze in too, and sit up on his haunches.' ‘Want to be in too?’ he says to the dog. And. the dog nods his .head, ' and, wags his: rudder like fury, So, for the joke of the thing; he puts in the two.-bob, and Mrs. Brown counts- the dog a.,irunner like .the rest of us< And, believe me;or. not, that, dog won the ‘pool.’. ‘Good boy,’ says his boss,: collecting the. silver; ‘l’ll ~ buy you some chops for breakfast.’.' . “And. then there was. that clever chap from Foxton,” continued Bill', sip.pjng a fresh “handle.” , “He reckoned he was the best rabbit shot on the Coast, and offered to bet any money he could beat anyone in Ranga. Well, you know, there was millions of rabbits Jie.re - then—that was before the Rabbit Boards, gdjr.hiisy—and most of us could shoot a bit. So eventually we backs a bloke to beat the Foxton chap; shot;for shot, and each to be served out with a dozen cartridges in the.jnorning. A gun and ammunition, had-to be -procured for the Foxtonite, but Brown said tba he '-would' attend to these matters. “And. im the’ morning the rival shooters, accompanied by a hundred or more spectators, wends their , way to . the ..plat to decide the contest. You’d a 'thought it was A fair ditikum, old-time duel, there was such/.-exeite'mqnt.'-r 'The guns were produced, and the- cartridges handed out by Brown. Both loaded up,.and the fun--began. “The- crowd: did.,>nqt ; have " long to wait. The local :.chap-/Sighted. a ‘bunny, and scored first blood. ~ The, Foxtonite. had aj shot, Jbut only ruffled the fur ' of Mn oM'. doe. . The local man.: bowled another over, ■but thA;stranger, missed again;/ And so the battle . raged. ’Qur man’got a. fuff issued and his opponent, fifing wildly,at the finish, failed/to .Collect a rabbit.' ' The money was/handed over, and ‘chaired’ our champeen back.' ! t6 : the pub, where‘we had a great time. It was not--until a couple. of weeks after that Brown confided to ,ine that he’had spent the night removing .the shot from the- Foxton chap’s cartridges,..add filling them'with chaff.” , The'pace was .- now getting slow, and Flannigan glanced at the clock , which ticked soberly over the . mantle-piece. “Twelve 'd’clock, gents,” he said. 1 “It .is about time that sleep. /You want •to be right to pick winners, to-morrow.” • We rose more or less steadily, all but Big Bill,

who was pretty rocky. “Will someone see Bill to his car?” said the boss. “Too right,” we said in a chorus; “we all will.” ' ' '. Bill was steered through the doorway, across the' path, and placed at the wheel of his trusty (and rusty) Ford. He tried, the, gears, fumbled' with the lighting, and pronounced, a11’“0.K.”., “Good-nightj, Bill,” w? shouted. '■ ‘ \ “Good-night,”'he replied;' and .then, as an afterthought-, he ‘added,’ “By -eripes, the old woman will give me Hell when I get/hofne!” - " < “You’ll get it before, you get home, you drunken beast!” yelled a., voice ’ from the rear seat of the car. It was Bill’s missus, and she had been waiting for Bill for four, hours! There was a scatter of helpers, and the last we heard of Bill and his “bu§” that night was a mixture of “Take that, you brute!” and “keep me waiting all night while you’re yarning in a pub!” And the sparking of two cylinders sounded sweet music to the tongue thrashing which the raconteur of the evening was to be treated to.