Teenagers of the 50s

When writing about the 1950s and the following years, it is easy to consider those days as so much better than the present time.

But a lot of our memories are inevitably linked to the fact we were young, carefree and without responsibilities.

Most of us were too young to understand the tragedy of World War II, and our perception of the world was through the eyes of teenagers.

We were sheltered by stable families, where fathers earned enough money to feed the family and service the War Service or Building Society loan, and mothers mainly stayed home to look after and raise the children.

Away from school, we were having a great time, whether it was down at the beach playing "spin the bottle" or "truth or dare" with the local girls, putting pennies on the railway line at Woy Woy, or just sitting around bonfires on the beach after storms left debris washed down from the Hawkesbury.

I remember the old dressing sheds at Umina were in a pretty bad way and we soon discovered the explosive nature of fibro when pieces were thrown on the burning logs.

Later we looked forward to the regular dances at the newly-built surf club, with Billie Henderson on the piano and Freddy Miller on sax.

The barn dance was one of our favourites.

It gave us an opportunity to chat up the local girls and perhaps ... well, never mind.

Occasionally when changing partners, you would be embraced rather enthusiastically by some buxom lady of indeterminate age smothered in copious quantities of cheap talcum powder which, in turn, precipitated uncontrollable bouts of sneezing on my part.

It was a time when girls looked forward to getting married, having a family and living happily ever after.

Most girls had started a "glory box" from an early age with the help and encouragement of their mothers.

The box would be filled with towels, sheets and other utilitarian items such as sensible long flannelette nighties.

Monday nights were pretty special as this was the night Mr Taylor used to call with a van full of women's fashions.

Any purchases could be paid for by small weekly instalments which suited most families.

The Waltons' man used to call regularly to collect money for lay-buys and goods purchased from the store at Gosford which was situated where the redundant Froggies roller skating rink is now located.

While mothers taught their daughters to cook and sew, some of us used to sneak off to Sydney to catch the latest French or Italian movie at the Savoy Theatre.

Just thinking of Brigitte Bardot in God Created Woman still makes the heart rate pick up a notch or two.

Every year we would go to the Easter Show at the old Showground.

Apart from making ourselves sick from eating those dreadful dagwood pups and heaps of fairy floss, the greatest attraction for us was Jimmy Sharman's boxing tent with the old man up on the stage inviting anyone foolish enough to take on one of his fighters over three rounds.

With the booming sound of a drum, the contenders would line up on the stage where Sharman, ever the showman, would give them a big wrap up.

Lots of booing and cheering for the challengers, most of whom, we discovered afterwards, were fully paid up members of the boxing troop.

Other times we used to travel to Rushcutters Bay to see the latest American stars at the Stadium.

Bill Haley and the Comets, Little Richard, Peg Leg Bates (the one-legged tap dancer), and the Platters were just some of the performers in the old tin shed.

We cried with Johnny Rae singing Little White Cloud that Cried and we joined Sammy Davis Jnr in singing Mr Bojangles.

In no time at all, Aussie artists came to the fore with Johnny O'Keefe, Col Joye, Lucky Starr, Johnny Devlin and many others who turned out to be just as good, if not better than, some of the imported stars.

After the concert, there was no better way to finish the day than having a whopping big burger with the works at that iconic and legendary establishment in the Cross - so aptly named the Hasty Tasty.

Email, 17 Nov 2010 Fred Landman, Daleys Point