Bismarck, for the most part, was an Adventist community. The church was always well filled in my boyhood days. These early settlers had large families so that as the boys and girls reached adulthood the district was alive with a lot of exuberant young people. There were entertainments in the local hall, concerts, and local a show with its chopping and sawing matches or competitions. My father was the district Saw Doctor, and I well remember his sharpening those crosscut saws to a needle point with a file and then finishing them off with an oil stone. The axes were just as carefully treated. Many an hour, as a boy, have I turned the grindstone for some of these axemen, some of whom became widely famous. They would not be satisfied till they had honed the blade razor-sharp with an oil stone and it would shave their arm. It was then wrapped in a piece of oiled flannel and kept in a case to protect the blade. The weight, the balance and “fall” of the axe was all important. They were invariably the famous “Plumb” axes. You could not buy a special “match” axe from anyone who had spent much time and patience grinding down the blade to his particular “feel”, and what they called the “fall”.
It was at our local hall when I was about five or six years of age that I saw the first movie that was shown in Bismarck. It was my father and Uncle Albert who brought this first Bioscope to the district. There was no electric light, of course. The contraption was lit by acetylene gas using a ponderous carbide tank into which water dripped, releasing acetylene gas. This, under its own pressure, was piped into the lantern where it was ignited with a match. This made a powerful light before which the film was wound with a hand crank. The whole thing was doubtless highly dangerous, but I don’t remember any mishaps apart from the gas supply failing at some crucial time. We kids were thrilled with the fast moving fun pictures, the only ones I recall. We always had a packed house.
Bismarck also had a band, uniformed, with loads of gold braid and a quaint flat-top cap with no peak for eye cover. It was reputed to be quite good, and competed in some contests in the days when my uncles were young men. Uncle Fritz was the conductor at one time. For many years he wore a miniature gold cornet on his watch chain, presented to him by some band of which he was conductor. I joined the band myself as soon as I was old enough, and my cornet was an important adjunct to my ministry and personal enjoyment for some fifty years.
Then there were the picnics, the highlight of the year. Nothing thrilled our boyish hearts more than this annual event, always held on Boxing Day, the day after Christmas. It was talked about, and great preparation was made weeks before. It was held regularly in no other place than Stellmaker’s paddock, the most level area suitable for such a large gathering. There had to be room for plenty of action, for these people didn’t sit around all day, or stand talking in small groups. There were continuing games of a wide variety, great swings and a super community lunch, the most lavish feast of the year.
Some days before, the men would construct a booth of raw saplings from the bush. This booth was really a large canopy to keep off the sun for the meal time, and provide shade for the older folk who did not participate in the games. It was about 60 feet long by 20 feet wide, covered completely over with gum boughs, the lighter limbs of eucalyptus trees, with their heavily ladened leaves. Benches would line the walls with some forming a center aisle. Here everyone could be seated for lunch and perhaps to hear a short speech by some special person. At one end were the tables where the women brought their sandwiches, cakes, cream puffs, lamingtons, tarts, scones, rock buns, strudels, Swiss rolls and many other toothsome things never seen at any other time of the year.
The whistle would blow, and all games would break up immediately. Kindergarten, juniors, and young people in their groups would rush to the booth and sit up circumspectly on the benches. Then as one big congregation we would sing grace, after which we would wait to be served, a terrific strain on our boyish patience. No serve-yourself here. The waiters were well organized, and so were food varieties. Sandwiches came first; my favorite was salmon and tomato. Then came rock buns and tarts, in that order, followed by the most delicious cakes with full cream filling, Swiss rolls and cream puffs and lamingtons, in strict selective succession. What a day! What a feast! What a picnic! We use to be invited down to the Hobart Church picnic, which we regarded as tame and lifeless by comparison.
Huge swings would be set up constructed of two forked trees with a cross bar, the higher the better. Heavy ropes would be hung from the high cross-bar, and a seat was fixed that could take two adults comfortably. This would be prime sport for young ladies. Two would be put on together, their dresses tied around their legs with a handkerchief to stop them from blowing up in the wind, and then the men would push them, steady at first, but picking up momentum and height. With every swing it became more thrilling then a roller-coaster. The girls would squeal as they were sent twenty or thirty feet into the air and came back with a swoosh, only to be given another push by the men waiting for the return. Two men would stand on the board facing each other holding firmly onto the ropes. Then one would bend his knees and push the swing away from him. The other would then push it back until they built up momentum and drive to the level of the crossbar itself. It was high adventure, risky but thrilling and we boys and the young people revelled in it, though it was rarely that the smaller boys and girls were given a turn. It was young people’s sport, and was thought too dangerous for small fry.
The above gives a glimpse of how the people entertained themselves in those simple uncomplicated days of early Bismarck. We boys tried to emulate our axe-men heroes, and practiced log chopping in the bush, especially when it was too wet to work in the fields. At the age of about eleven I was fortunate to be able to buy an axe from a notable axeman who had ground it down a little more than he wanted. It was now less than four pounds in weight but a fine blade. I don’t know where I was able to raise the money, but it was my weight and super sharp. I was standing one day on a high log that lay ten feet from the gound. There was a protruding ridge just in front where I was trying out this new axe, when the top corner of the axe struck this ridge and bounced back on my foot. It sliced through my heavy boot and into my right big toe. When I took off my boot and sock, now flooded with blood, I saw that I had cut right through the joint, close to severing the toe altogether. It mended, but I still carry the stiff joint.
