Bill York and Family
Figure 2100. Catheryn, Brett, Keryn, Fae and Bill York
I was born in 1961 and by this time the workshop was now up and running as a shipyard. From the very beginning, I was for ever determined to explore the wonderous world of my back yard. A factory with so much action going on all the time. The noise, the smell, the majestic grandeur of it all, was all so exciting. I could not wait to wake every morning and try my best to run off on mum, to venture into the middle of it all.
To me, it was boat building of the highest level. They were built from steel. Such a sign of the times in those days. In a corner of the world that was so remote, so isolated, littered with farms tending to cows, sugar cane and barbed wired fences. Country through and through. The fabrication sheds at my age, rose way up into the sky. It must have been such a shock for anyone new who drove past from Woodburn on their way to Lismore, to be suddenly confronted with such a sight as a shipyard rising out of the cane fields in the middle of nowhere.
Figure 2101. York Brothers Swan Bay Shipyard (1968)
My father Bill, and my uncle Bob were the two York Brothers, and both the boss. The men that worked for them were all very serious about what they were doing. It was without a doubt, so interesting and obvious to me at the time. I was three years old. The men treated me like their own child. They would always stop and talk to me and make sure I felt safe and confident. I recall so vividly, every afternoon, this one man, who I think must have been the Forman of the workers, used to make it a point to pick me up and sit me on his knee as we drove the tractor, affectionally named “Dexter”, down the road to the Swan Bay post office to pick up the mail. He let me steer all the way and I felt like I was driving him. It was so easy to be grown up, I thought. I couldn’t wait to grow up.
Figure 2105. Boatbuilders, Max and Morty studying plans
Figure 2106. Dexter the tractor
On another day I made my way out onto one of the two slipways. The boat that was being built was almost finished and getting ready to be launched. I climbed all the way up this huge ladder to the main deck. I showed no fear about doing that. I must have been only three years old. I say that because as a family, we moved to Sydney for four years when I was four and moved back to the shipyard when I was seven. When I got to the top, one of the men helped me over the side and onto the deck. It was as if, I was working with them helping any way I could. I made my way through the inside of the boat all the way to the forward compartment. I recall finding all this white rope stacked up high. I climbed up onto it, and well, by that stage felt so sleepy. With all the noise, the hammers banging, the welders welding and everything so overwhelming, all I wanted to do was lay down and have a nap. The next minute, I was awoken by one of the workmen yelling out; “I’ve found him”.
He was all smiles and so elated. Apparently, my mother almost had a fit when she couldn’t find me. The whole shipyard stopped work and went on a frantic search for me. I didn’t know what all the fuss was about, but I do remember being made feel so special when I was carried down off the boat to the waiting arms of my mother. All said and done, it was just another adventure for me. One that has been a lasting memory, but so too have I had many experiences since then.
Figure 2107. Workman sandblasting fishing boat
In 1965 with Bob manning the shipyard, Bill decided to pack up and move his family to Sydney. I was only four years old at the time. He was to open an office in Clarence Street to push sales of the now patented York Mineral Concentrator. We first moved in with my uncle Walter in Kensington. Its where Keryn and Peter started school. I remember my mother letting me walk with her to the school every afternoon. She always brought the pram along and I can hardly ever remember meeting my brother and sister, because I would get tired and fall to sleep in the pram. I do remember the house we were in. t was full of old clocks. All types including grandfather clocks. The noise they made every hour was symphony of bells and chimes. My father eventually found an apartment at Bondi Beach. I loved it here. Peter and I had the end room on the right side. We had our own window looking directly at the beach. My memories living here are the start to where every day becomes a challenge. I was very close to my mother, being the youngest, and she was always there for me, but at the same time, I was always trying to get away and explore on my own. While dad was off to work, mum would take the three of us kids on the bus to Bondi Junction to go shopping. This was my chance. As soon as we went into the massive David Jones department store, I would look for every opportunity to run off on my own. I was very good at it too. On more than one occasion I would end up in the stores lost and found with the attendant calling out for my mother over the public address system and I would be given an ice cream while I waited. As soon as mum caught up she would scold me in front of everyone and then melt by lifting me up and cuddling me. I thought it was a wonderful thing to do. That was until one day on this semi regular effort of mine I was running up the escalator which had huge steps for my size. Halfway up the escalator, I clipped the edge of one step and tripped with my shin landing on the edge of the next step. It hurt so much I screamed out in pain. I looked at my knee and blood was pouring out of a gash on my knee. Everyone around me came rushing over to help. I was picked up and carried off to the store office for first aid to stop the bleeding and me crying. The one consolation was it was the last time I ran off on my mother whenever we went shopping. Bondi was also where I reluctantly had to attend preschool. I hated it there and couldn’t wait for my mother to pick me up at the end of the day. Mum was sometimes late on those days, and when I was one of the last kids to leave, I would burst out crying until she got there. My brother Peter, and sister Keryn went to Bondi Public school, and it was not long before I turned five, and had to go to kindergarten at the same school. I remember hating every minute of that too. The school playground was like the bitumen on a road. The school rules prohibited anyone to run on the paved areas and if you got caught by a teacher, you were sent to the office and were supposed to get the cane. That was scarry to me, and so I made sure I did not run in the playground. Other than that, it was not so bad living on the beach. Our address was unit 4, 85 Ramsgate Avenue, and I was very good friends with the two sons of the owner of the building. They were Peter and Chris. We had a second-floor apartment, and they lived in the house at the front of the units overlooking the beach. There was an access path down onto the rocks and it was where I learnt to swim. That was in the rock pool in front of the baby’s pool at north Bondi. It was such a wonderful thing for me at that age to have my back yard as the rocks leading out to Ben Buckler, being the north headland. There was this one huge rock out the end that had a bronze plate explaining how the rock came to be there. It was said to be over two hundred tons and in 1912, a huge storm struck Sydney and the next morning, this rock just happened to be washed up onto Ben Buckler. It was so interesting to study all the sea life in the rock pools when walking out to the end. The ocean, the surf and the beach all leaving such and impression on my mind of it being so vividly exiting and fun. Dad taking us for a walk along the beach every morning. Mum taking me and Peter to football on a Saturday morning and having friends of the family come over to our home to visit. I remember being so happy at that time. Except having to go to school. Later in my teenage years, I would say to my friends: “I played rugby league for Eastern Suburbs.” When they hesitated with a curious look of doubt, I would add: “In the under sixes on a Saturday morning”. As it were, I did play football in the Eastern suburbs at Centennial Park, or Queens Park next to it, when I was five and six years old.
Figure 2112. Ramsgate Avenue (second floor apartment) over-looking Bondi Beach
Figure 2115. Keryn York, (second row, second from the left) photo at Bondi Beach public school
Figure 2116. Brett York (top row, fifth from the left) photo at Bondi Beach public school
It was now 1967 and Australia was dragged into yet another war in Vietnam alongside the United States. It was the Australian shipbuilding Board that put out a call for any shipyard to step up and build patrol boats to protect the Northern Coast of Australia and New Guinea. Both Bob and Bill were to secure an order from the Australian government to build eight 14m patrol boats in quick time. We left Sydney and moved back to the north coast as the patrol boats were now under construction and my father was needed back at the shipyard.
Figure 2117. Bill York studying plans at the shipyard
Figure 2118. Bob York managing production at the shipyard
My father and sister Keryn moved back to Swan Bay for dad to start working on the patrol boat contract, and for my sister to start at her new school in Woodburn. My mother stayed in Bondi, to see Peter and I finished the year at school which gave her time to organise the move back to the North Coast.
Figure 2119. School photo with Keryn in front row, and Robert back row, third from the left
I started first class at Woodburn public school the following year, and then my mum and dad bought a house at Evans Head. The address was 36 Cedar Street. I didn’t see the point in travelling on a bus back and forth to Woodburn and so when I complained to mum, she immediately arranged for me to enrol in Evans Head Public school. My first teacher at Evans Head primary school was Mrs. MacDonald. She took students in both first class and second class, and I think I was her favourite. I was always commended for my effort but then when I moved up to third class, her husband Mr Mac picked on me every chance he got. I think he was jealous from talking with his wife every day after school. I wasn’t too thrilled with him either. He would always pick me up on everything I did, but I guess I might be exaggerating because of how the schoolwork got harder. We all have our own account of those first school days, and everyone else always said how good he was as a teacher.
A year after leaving Sydney, I received a wonderful letter from my friend Peter from Bondi Beach. The letter reminded me of what fun we had together as friends. Peter’s father owned the units my father rented at 85 Ramsgate Avenue.
Figure 2120. Letter from my friend Peter from Bondi Beach
His mother was a beautiful lady, and I remember, she would call him to come home every afternoon when we were playing. I asked Peter why he had to go. He said: “I have diabetes and I have to have a needle.” I did not understand. I asked mum and she said: “Diabetes is an illness that a person gets when they cannot produce sugar. The needle is to give them the sugar they need.” It is quite common, my mother said. I used to shiver every time Peter’s mum called him in. When I asked, he just said,” It doesn’t hurt”. We were six and seven years old. I always wondered what he meant by that. I feared needles. He had a brother Chris who was younger. They were both good friends of my brother Peter, and me. I had another friend Mark. Mark was the son of a doctor that lived at the units as you first come up the hill in Ramsgate Avenue beside the park. Mark was my age. Peter was one year older. Marks father had already taken him Scooba diving. Could you imagine that at six years old, to Scooba dive. Mark was very big. He was already inches taller than me, and he had a big stomach. I remember one day in the park next door, I used him as a trampoline, jumping up and down on his stomach. I loved it and so did he. We were laughing the whole time. One day mark’s father said: “We are going in to visit the HMAS Melbourne.” This was Australia’s only aircraft carrier at that time had an open day for the public to inspect the ship. He said to me: “do you want to come with us”. I said yes straight away, but he said: “you had better check with your mother”. I raced home and asked her. She knew Mark and both of his parents and agreed to let me go. We drove to the navy dock and the aircraft carrier was huge.
We stood in line and made our way up the gangway steps reaching down to the dock. The tour was to walk all over the ship with all these other interested people. We inspected everywhere including the inside where the aircraft are housed. The most memorable moment was when all of us on the tour stood on this huge flat platform inside the hull and were lifted to the main flight deck leaving the inside and suddenly standing outside, as the deck closed up. It was such a great time.
When I received the letter from Peter, I wrote back to both Mark and Peter. My mother let me use her IBM electric typewriter.
After that, I was so preoccupied with my new school and fitting in with all the new school children. It wasn’t long before I made a lot of friends, and my best friend was Tony who I already knew, was the coolest kid in school at our age. He was a year ahead of me in class. He had glasses and was so confident and inspiring. We hit it off right from the start and became the best of mates.
Figure 2126. Tony, Keryn, Mum and me
Why I knew Tony before I went to Evans Head primary, was because his father was Max Durrington. Max was my father’s lead foreman at the shipyard.
Figure 2127. Max Durrington at work at York Brothers Shipyard
Dell was Max’s wife, and Tony and Steven’s mother. Steven was Tony’s older brother. Dell took me under her wing as if I were her own. It was all so wonderful for me. I had been plucked out of the big city and landed in this small seaside country town of fifteen hundred people and had the smoothest transition to finding friends. Tony had his own little gang of friends and I got to join with them from the very start. There was David, Paul, and another Tony. We all lived within two blocks of each other and had the run of the town.
The first summer holidays in Evans Head, I was seven years old and turning eight in January. My mother bought both Peter and I a push bike for Christmas. Peters was a twenty-six-inch gold coloured Malvern Star. My bike was a twenty-four-inch blue, white and red Malvern Star. When I first tried to ride it, I could not reach the ground with me feet, when sitting on the bike, or even sitting on the top horizontal bar that connects the handlebar housing to the seat. I improvised to get started by putting my leg through the bike underneath this bar. I was able to put my left foot on the left peddle and push along like riding a skateboard. Then lift my right leg and put it through to reach the right peddle and start peddling. Albeit lop sided as I rode along the road. This got me started and soon I was able to improve this by swinging my right leg over the seat and sit while in forward motion and start riding. That worked well until it came to stopping. I had worked out how to lift my leg back over the seat and dismount. This worked fine but took some doing to master. It was at this time all the gang wanted to go for a ride out to the Blue Pool about one kilometre towards Woodburn and down a dirt side road for another two kilometres to reach the pool. It was a major adventure for me. My first long bike ride. I had only practised riding up and down Cashmore Street near where I lived for a short while and soon thought I had mastered riding a push bike. About five of my friends could all ride their bikes and we started on this first long ride to the Blue Pool. It was all going so well. The one thing I did not plan for was up ahead. It had been raining for a couple of days leading up to this day, and there were large puddles of water on the dirt track. Steering around them was easy until we reach one point on the track where the puddle went all the way across. There was no way of avoiding it or knowing how deep the puddle was. The other boys rode straight through. Following behind, when I reached the puddle, it was so deep that my legs were not able to push on through. The bike stopped right in the middle of the deepest part of the puddle, and it stopped. I couldn’t reach the ground with my feet or hold my balance. I slowly started to fall sideways and splat, landed side on in the muddy water, and got drench.
Figure 2128. My brother Peter York and some of his and my friends (From left: Terry, Shane, Wayne, Tony, Peter, Tony, and Paul)
The older brothers in the town were always the enemy. Our younger gang left nothing short from planning to attack whenever we crossed paths. I recall one day, the older boys, mostly brothers to my friends, had built this fort up on stilts. It was an amazing feat I thought for ten-year-olds. We knew the older boys had air riffles. The kind that fired led pellets called slugs. These air riffles come in various power rating. The common size was twenty-two or a twenty-five. Our gang had one low powered air riffle that was a size sixteen. Obe day our gang decided to attempt to sneak up on the fort and take it over, thinking there was no one there. The next thing the older boys started shooting slugs at us which then escalated into a full-on shooting match. The problem was we only had one low powered air rifle and they had the full powered air rifles. We soon realised we were out gunned and had to back down.
The shipyard was a bustle of activity with the last of the patrol boats being built and trialed in the river, one after the other, after the other. I didn’t have a lot to do with that as I was too busy being a child, however I have such graphic memories whenever I’d venture up to the yard to see what was happening.
The success of the patrol boat contract set the way to secure a second project for the Australian Government. It was a fisheries research vessel, some twenty five meters long to be christened RV “Kapala”. It was during this time in our families lives that tragedy was to strike. They say bad luck runs in threes, and for us as a family, that was certainly the case. Difficult to write about and even more difficult for me to admit to, it was our inexperience as young boys, thinking we knew everything that saw us make a very grave mistake. Along with Duckie (Tony), and two other friends, Shayne, and Paul, we decided to build a fort underground. It was in bush land just up the road in my street and we had it all planned. We knew that sand was not stable, so we dug open trenches in a ‘T’ shape with a meter gap from the end of one trench to the middle of the first trench. That meant that if the sand were to give way, there was no chance of being trapped because it was only a short one-meter distance between trenches. We then covered up the second trench with branches and leaves to completely seal it from light entering from above. The first trench was the entrance, and we dug a tunnel one meter long between the two about one meter below the surface. We started on Monday afternoon after school, and we were all so excited. Each afternoon we could see this taking shape and we planned to cover the entire block of bush land with covered up trenches with one-meter tunnels connecting them all. By Wednesday I was thinking we need more help. My brother Peter was two years older than me. I was one year younger than my friends and Peter was one year younger than my friends’ older brothers and never really joined in with anyone after school or on the weekends. Given he was mechanically minded, he was happy staying at home building things with his tools. He wasn’t that interested in running around the town with all the other boys and at the time, I felt sorry for him. That afternoon when I got home just on dark, I said to him: “Why don’t you come down to the fort tomorrow and give us a hand. We need more help.” He said he would think about it, and I didn’t hold much hope he would come. The next afternoon, after about an hour working on the fort, Peter showed up. I was thrilled. I ran out to meet him and immediately wanted to show him what we had accomplished. I went in first through the entrance trench and Peter followed close behind. When I was inside, I turned around to see what Peter thought. He was on all fours looking at me and suddenly part of the sand broke away from the side of the one-meter-long tunnel and fell onto his legs. When I saw that I said: “We better get out of here”. Peter started backing out and because he was faced inwards towards me, his legs went first. It was when he was precisely halfway through the tunnel, it collapsed on him. One second earlier or one second later and he would have been safe. I found myself in pitch black because the opening was the only light and it disappeared. The branches overtop sealed my in complete darkness. My immediate thought was that I was dead. I realised I was still breathing and just stood up and burst through the branches. The very first thing I saw was Peters legs frantically kicking with him caught right in the centre of the collapsed sand. I jumped out of the trench and grabbed a shovel. So too did the other boys and we all started digging him out. I dug towards where his head would be knowing he could not breathe. When I was close, I stopped using the shovel, and with my hands, I dug the last layers of sand away to then reach his head. I clear the sand from in front of his face and pulled on his hair to lift his head to give some air to breath. What I did not think was the sheer weight of the sand on top of him, would have prevented his lungs from being able to breathe. We continued digging him out and one of the other boys ran out onto the road from the bush and hailed down the first car. It just happened to be Tony’s father, Max who quickly raised the alarm and after some time, the ambulance turned up. They started resuscitation and quickly had him on the way to hospital. I guess I was suffering from shock because my last memory there was that it was dark. It was as if time froze. I was told as they were carrying him out to the ambulance that he was still breathing and so I was at least relieved for the next few hours believing he was going to be all right. Dell stepped in to mind me and Tony while my parents went with the ambulance to hospital. Tony and I playing a board game called “Green Ghost” in his room and at around midnight Dell came in and said: “Brett, you have to go home straight away”. When I got home, I was told Peter had died. The house was a horror scene with my mother’s screaming this awful mournful cry, my sister crying as well, and my father stunned in silence. I blamed myself. I thought it was all my fault. My mother mourned all day every day for the next three months. I didn’t know what to do, but I didn’t cry. The other boys were all called into the inquiry; however, I was never asked to attend. It was determined to be a tragic accident, which it in fact was, and my parents never said anything to me at all. I never spoke to anyone about what happened for a long time after that. I finally told my story to my girlfriend sixteen years later when I was twenty-three and at last I got to cry. Another year or so later after my girlfriend and I split up, I invited my mother around to my place for dinner. I cooked the best meal I could think of and told her the story of what happened. We were at last able to sit there and cry together.
Figure 2138. In memory of my brother Peter
Figure 2139. In memory of my brother Peter
Figure 2158. My brother
My brother’s death was devastating for our family and the problems didn’t end there. Following Peter’s death, my father had to focus on work to complete the government contract to build Kapala. He smothered himself in work starting early every day at the shipyard. It was 1969. The year Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. The Kapala had to be finished. Decisions were being made between the architects and the builders. Bob and Bill both were led by the expertise of the consultants, however, never paid much attention to keeping paperwork on the changes being made. To assure the design, a decision was made to install a thick steel doubler plate on the upper deck to provide additional support for the large trawl winches mounted on either side.
Figure 2159. RV “Kapala” Inspection under construction
The launching was scheduled for the middle of the year in 1969. I remember this so well. Tony and I arrived at the shipyard early and sat on the lean-to shed overlooking the slipway as the best vantage point to watch the whole event.
Figure 2168. RV “Kapala” launching Tony and my vantage point
Figure 2169. RV “Kapala” on launch day
Figure 2170. RV “Kapala” on launch day
Figure 2169. RV “Kapala” on launch day
When the vessel was finally launched, it was top heavy and leaned over in the slipway. A devasting blow for the project and strike two on the bad luck score for the family. It was not something that registered with me at my age, as the hype of the launching and all the fan fair going on disguised the true picture of what it meant. That was for most everyone except my father, my uncle Bob and the other consultants that worked on the project. They must have suffered an extremely stressful moment. It was very soon after the vessel leaned over that the word had passed around the vessel was launched without the planned ballasting, and that seemed to be suggesting it was planned for to ballast the ship later.
This served as a reasonable gossip point and nothing much further was said on the day. The launching and celebration proceeded without disappointment. The honourable Member for Lismore Mr. Duncan officiated the launching with a welcome speech to the visitors. The Reverand G. Foley and Father O’Brien conducted the traditional blessing of the ship. The Chief Secretary of New South Wales, Mr Willis was invited to ask his wife Mrs. Willis to launch the vessel. The Director of Fisheries, Australia, Dr. Francois was to accept the vessel on behalf of the New South Wales State Fisheries and the launching celebration took place at the Rod and Reel Hotel in Woodburn.
Figure 2176. Article on “Kapala” in The Triangle
Following the launching of “Kapala”, The only remedy to fix the problem was to load cement bags into the bilges above the keel and the costs associated with this had to be accounted for. Blame for this error was directed back and forth between vested parties until an eventual civil court hearing was convened.
This took some years to resolve, and, in the meantime, the shipyard continued building boats. Three gulf trawlers, the 62 feet long “Don-E-L” and the 60 feet long “Nino” and the 60 feet long “Biddy May” were completed and launched in the early seventies.
The next boat built was the fishing vessel FV “Marina 1”. The interesting thing about this was it was my father’s boat. He had decided to try his hand at fishing, and he had planned to hire a reliable skipper to run the vessel full time. That way he could go out fishing anytime he liked when he got a break from work.
Figure 2191. FV “Marina One”
Stan King then built the Pieces Star. I remember Stan as a genuine businessman that I understood was retiring into Evans Head and was setting to build a big house over on the south Evans headland and operate his fishing boat from the Evans River. One day when I was young, he asked me whether I wanted to go for a drive out to Jerusalem Creek, south of Woodburn to see the AMA mineral sands operation underway. It was on the way back he spotted mushrooms growing wild in the paddock. I said to me that mushrooms were one of his favourite foods, and so we stopped on the side of the road and spent an hour running around picking a great big bag full.
The launching of Pieces Star was a spectacular event.
The entire dinning section of the Rod and Reel hotel in Woodburn was hired to cater for the party. I was ten at this time and it was my first chance to sit with the workmen while my father and mother sat at the head table. My mother was strict in setting the rules with the men that it was a two-beer maximum for me. Without her knowing, the foreman at the shipyard, Cheeky Casey was handing me beer after beer under the table. I remember drinking about six, ten-ounce middies. The effect of the beer soon registered with me. I made my way out to my mother’s car and sat in the passenger’s seat. My mother came out to check on me and it was right then, I vomited out the passenger door all over the pavement. My mother was not pleased but as mums are, she came to my rescue and drove me home to sleep it off. This was my first encounter with the ills of drinking, but of course not the last.
It was the next week the boat was to be delivered. I went along for the trip and my father steaming the Pieces Star from the yard, down river to Ballina and out to sea and onto Evans Head. The timing was not perfect, and I recall the tide was not so high. The pieces Star grounded on the sand crossing the Evans River bar and was pushed sideways. The waves started smashing over the side of the boat and through the wheelhouse door where I was standing. We all got soaked. I must admit it was scarry. We were eventually saved by “Marina One” waiting there just in time to secure a rope and tow the boat off the sand bank. Marina One was my father’s boat and through the quick action of our trusty Skipper, “Chops” the day was saved. We all breathed a sigh of relief and continued up the river to berth the Pieces Star at the fishing Cooperative.
Following the launching of “Kapala”, The only remedy to fix the problem was to load cement bags into the bilges above the keel and the costs associated with this had to be accounted for. Blame for this error was directed back and forth between vested parties until an eventual civil court hearing was convened. My uncle Bob York gave evidence that he took verbal instruction over the telephone from the naval architects to fit the doubler plates. The architect firm denied they had given such a direction and demanded written documentation to back the accusation. The court had no choice but to award the decision against the shipyard.
When the hearing was eventually concluded, York Bros. Pty Ltd was found to be responsible. It was strike three. The company was ordered to pay a sum equivalent to about seventy-five thousand pounds compensation and legal costs. In those days the average wage was around eighty pounds per week for a boat builder tradesman and in equivalent terms the awarded damages amount was a tough blow for the financial viability of the shipyard.
My father sought legal advice and through our accountants, it was decided to place the company into voluntary receivership. Dad had the idea to sell the patent rights of the mineral concentrator to the American company, Dillingham’s. This company had secured a lease to mine mineral sands on the south side of Evans Head at China man’s beach. My father was invited to travel to the United States to broker the deal and was then able to secure the contract to build the mineral concentration plant used by the mining company.
This required setting up to fabricate multiple fibreglass trays for the concentration plant. The shipyard had the project. It required employing about seventy men to do the work. From what my father told me, they used two 44-gallon drums of resin per week and a highly technical fibreglass chop strand cutting machine to spray chopped fibres onto the wet resin and brush more resin in to fabricate each tray used in the separation plant. This led the company on a path to pay off all the debts and free the shipyard from the receiver’s involvement. When it was all finally over, the family managed to hold onto all the properties as a family group, however, now had to start again virtually from scratch.