The Spoken Word in Bush Poetry

[Gary Harding]

While on the subject of the literary journal "Overland", there is an article by John Manifold about Banjo Paterson in the first edition.

John picks up on some threads that he argues run through Paterson's poems. For example, his dislike for lawyers (even although he was one himself for a while). Some readers who are special fans of The Banjo might find it of interest so I will post it here.

John Manifold, the author of this article and folk music legend, is a subject in himself.

Paul Bailey was a later member of The Shearer's Tally Bush Band where I was a founding member. Paul was a guitar player and I well remember, a bit of a character too.

He kindly supplied me with this story about his early musical connection with John Manifold (Mr. Manifold)..

"This brings back memories. As a young boy I was taught by John Stewart Manifold To make 'tin' whistles and recorders out of bamboo. I think it was a Friday - once a week we would gather at his house near Nazareth house in Wynnum North and John (Mr. Manifold) would teach us to play. The manhole into the ceiling of his house was in his music room, and next to the manhole in the roof he had dusted the imprint of four child-sized footprints. Every one of us enjoyed playing music with Mr Manifold. It was almost always riotously funny while deeply immersing us all in learning the art of music at an early age.

Whenever things got a bit loud and out of hand, John would point to the dirty footprints on the roof and say, "If you kids don't quieten down I'm going to lock you in the roof with that poor child." We would join his laughter and quieten down. I don't think any one of us thought to ask how he got the dusty footprints to defy gravity and stick to the ceiling.

I first saw John when I was about 10 sitting halfway down the aisle of a small local bus while a bright and rollicking strange man was sitting in the centre of the long backseat, cello between his knees, playing and singing to anybody and everybody on the bus. I witnessed this captivating cameo several times before I was introduced to him, and each bus trip divided into a third of the people clapping, another third sitting quietly, and the remainder in sporadic complaint - to no avail - about "all that noise." I was already a distracted student of the piano, but it was those bus rides that made me fall in love with music and public performance. Thank you John." (Paul Bailey)

[Gary Harding]

The Australian Bush Poets Association is publishing a book of poems of its members, soon to be available.

This recalls for me the Foreword to a similar and compact booklet published in 1952 by The Australian Poetry Lovers' Society. (see photos below). I would like to reproduce it for the readers' interest.

It is contributed by J.K. ("Jack") Moir O.B.E. (a famous book collector of the time who also wrote the Foreword to Jim Grahame's book. He was President of the Bread and Cheese Club, Melbourne)

"EVERY Literary Society in Australia names as one of its objects, the fostering of the publication of Australian writers' work. Not many take the practical step of doing so.

THE Australian Poetry Lovers' Society has taken this step : it behoves everybody interested in our literature to support their commendable venture.

IT OFFERS you the work of its members. While that of several of its contributors is well known, that of others has not previously figured in book form. It is hoped that, the encouragement given, they may go to enrich our literature.

TO ALL who are interested in our literature, I commend this book with all good wishes for its success."

Such remarks and observations would certainly apply to the upcoming ABPA book of some seventy years later.

I read this Poetry Lovers' Society book. One would need to be very devoted to wade through most of the inclusions. Edward Harrington's stood out of course.

As Jack Moir said, this publication offers writers the encouragement to work and improve.

Equally, I believe the anticipated ABPA book will also offers such encouragement and be a worthwhile contribution to Australian Literature.

It will be a credit to its compilers.

[Gary Harding]

Edward Harrington and The Fieldings. (a bit of boring historical stuff)

George (G W) and his wife Ethyl Fielding were prominent early figures in the "field" of bush poetry.
They were joint founders of The Australian Poetry Lovers' Society (of Melbourne). Ted Harrington was a Founding Member (and also a founding member of The Bread and Cheese Club, Melbourne.)

The History of the Australian Poetry Lovers' Society, 1934 - 1973 by Harry Hastings Pearce, dug out of my archives, says a lot about the Fieldings. They were associated with The Henry Lawson Society too (Memorial and Literary) as was Ted.

In fact, at the launch of Ted's book Boundary Bend in 1937, the RSVP to the event (I am fortunate to have one of these invitations which was inserted into a book) was postal addressed to Ethyl's husband G W Fielding.

George kindly organised this Boundary Bend book launch and celebration at Anzac House in Collins Street through the Poetry Lovers' Society. It is recorded that there were 100 guests.

Pictured below is Ethyl Fielding in full flight reciting some of Lawson's poetry in Footscray Park 1930, during the Henry Lawson Annual Gathering. By the look of her animation, she might have been able to win performance competitions and give some tips to today's bush poetry reciters.

Nearly 30 years later when The Swagless Swaggie, a selection of Edward Harrington's verse was published, Ted inscribed a copy to Ethyl which I am fortunate enough to possess. (see pic below)

"To Mrs. Ethyl Fielding, in Memory of a long friendship
Edward Harrington, Melbourne 26/7/58"

I find this really touching.

However by this time one might get the feel that doing this inscription was a task. It was his Alice Springs period, a place where he went to help his respiratory problems. He was a heavy smoker; an affliction that was perhaps a throwback from his active participation in WW1?

Certainly Ted's friendship with Ethyl Fielding extended from 1927 to 1958 at least. Included in HH Pearce's book about The Poetry Lovers' Society is an introductory page dedicated to Ethyl. She writes over her photo "Sober, Steadfast and Demure. Ethyl" How she describes herself I guess.

Not only was it a long friendship, it seems it would have been a cherished friendship too. Tremendous.

[Gary Harding]

Miracles
It is amazing what things one can come across by chance.

I am helping a friend do some research on Edward Harrington and came across this poem in the first issue of Bohemia, the journal of The Bread and Cheese Club.

It is entitled "Sixty Five" by Jim Grahame and a check reveals that it missed being included in his book of Collected Work entitled "Under Wide Skies" (of which, ridiculously, I have about 14 quality copies from the days when one could pick them up for not a lot of money!).

So just for posterity.. and especially of course for anyone aged sixty-five ... I have elected to feature the poem as it was published in 1939 in Bohemia (see below).

Jim did write about being forty-eight and sixty-one though in his book.

Also below is a poem entitled Forty-Three that I wrote, or rather, cobbled together some years ago. Maybe not worth much, but it is a bit of fun so I have presented it with due apologies...

Following is the transcription.

SIXTY-FIVE by Jim Grahame

There's wattle blooming on the hill,
And wild pea decks the plain;
We hear the prattle of the stream
That trickles since the rain.
And sunset spreads a golden fan
Ere laggard stars arrive,
And tranquil twilight bids us go,
For we are sixty-five.

No sweeter were the bush birds' song
In days of long ago;
Nor did the sun shine brighter then
Or cooler breezes blow.
And we may sing a song of spring,
And joyously contrive
To spin an overlander's yarn,
Although we're sixty-five.

What matter if the silver locks
Have crowded out the brown,
And creased and furrowed is the cheek
Criss-crossed, and up and down.
While we're alert and young at heart,
And glad to be alive?
For we are not too old to dream,
Although we're sixty-five.

Out in the garden there's delight;
No rose has lost its charm -
And there's the scent of new mown hay
In windrows on the farm.
The bees drone in the apple trees
That overhang the hive,
And over all are peace and calm
To welcome sixty-five.

The bend is on the amber yet,
And ruby red the wine,
And gentle women still abide
Their charm almost divine.
While from the ever-changing scene
Old courtesies survive,
And friendly hand and gracious smile
Greet grizzled sixty-five.