Reminiscences
I have found my December
1953 school report from Miss Acason. She says of me: "A bright,
promising pupil who is capable of doing well in every subject if he
uses his capabilities". I could never understand this cryptic
criticism. My main question is: Which government official "invented"
the Opportunity School concept and why? What did they hope to achieve?
The fact that the idea didn't survive long indicates it was a failure
of some sorts. Personally I cherish my two wonderful years at Fort
Street despite the fact that my school results plummeted permanently!
Prior to Fort Street I was always first in class at Mosman Primary - of
course I now faced stiffer competition. It was also a very welcome two
year interlude of co-ed classes. North Sydney Boys' High afterwards
seemed more like a prison camp of rigid rules, incompetent teachers and
corporal punishment that by today's standards seems quite appalling.
(Brian Bagnall)
"OC classes" (as they were and still are known within the Education
Department) still exist within a select few schools in the State.
For instance, they are thriving at Artarmon PS. How do I know? I have 3
daughters (now in their 20s) and they all had their two years at
Artarmon PS, just as we had our 2 years in Miss Acason's OC class at
Fort Street. I still regularly see large handfuls of Artarmon PS
students (they look and behave like years 5 and 6) on the North Shore
trains — and my part of the line is way outside the local drawing area
for Artarmon PS if it had only regular classes from its local
community. I suspect the OC classes are sited and resourced where
transport is most accessible to cover a wide catchment area. (John
Fullagar)
I have no idea why people (children) I knew at age 11 and 12 and
never saw ever again should remain such powerful presences in my mind
over 50 years later. It’s not as if I had the slightest tiny grain of a
‘relationship’‚ or even a friendship with the girls from Fort Street.
This is a mystery. (Frank Hatherley)
The rest of the Fort Street school were locals, which is why there
was the animosity between the two groups, and the fear - at least with
me - as we walked down to the tram or ferry, afraid that 'Pinhead'
Skinner and his cohorts would bash us up. (David Cohen)
Strange how we accepted educational apartheid then with us being
kept quite separate from the local school kids. If I remember
correctly, we had separate playgrounds and I never got to know a single
student from the "lower school". In those days we regarded the
residents of The Rocks and Millers Point as dangerous inferior aliens!
I hope they were later compensated by immense real estate gains. (Brian
Bagnall)
I was always terrified of a boy called Danny Chubb in the local
class (I'm afraid, or perhaps pleased, that I do not remember 'Pinhead'
Skinner). Do any of you know if the following piece refers to the same
Danny Chubb - I have always suspected it might: 'As most of Smith and
Henry's income was from distributing heroin that seaman Danny Chubb
brought in off the wharves, they were regulars at his local - the
Captain Cook at Millers Point. They had been drinking with him there
only minutes before Chubb was shot dead around the corner, outside his
mother's home one morning in November 1984.' - www.smh
4/10/2004. The Smith referred to is Neddy Smith and Henry is "Abo"
Henry - all involved in the Roger Rogerson scandal. If it is the same
person I think we were all justified in our fear of some of the local
lads. (Janet Green)
I have vague memories of a wild and scary local kid with red hair
(I think) and the name of Danny Chubb sounds familiar. I think we were
most afraid in those tunnels and stairs under the Bridge as we made our
way to and from the trams or ferries. Incredible to think that in those
days we travelled a long way to school alone as 10-11 year olds. These
days terrified parents would be nervous about letting their precious
brats walk a few yards from their air conditioned car to the school
gate alone. And those noisy old doorless and corridorless toastrack
trams were fabulously dangerous lurching from side to side at high
speed across the Bridge with us tots holding on for dear life - not to
mention the conductor clinging on outside collecting the fares. (Brian
Bagnall)
Mention of The Rocks lads brings back memories of needing to bash a
few up to gain respect and stop further annoyance. On one occasion one
large individual (name lost in the mists of time) was trying to start a
fight and I was alone and with no hope of quick escape. Luckily I had
been chomping on a very seedy orange and I had a mouth full of seeds
that were later to be deposited into the cutting below. As the bully
came up to me I let fly with a full spurt with all the seeds in his
face. I remember thinking at the time "I'm dead now" but he turned and
never bothered me again. Maybe he has a long memory and will track
me down one day. (Guy Parsons)
SOME NOTES FROM RAY LOWENTHAL
For myself, Fort Street was not altogether a very happy time. Miss
Acason was not kind to me. My most prominent memory (and I’ll be
interested to know if anyone else remember this) was when she punished
me for sucking on a rubber (that’s a pencil eraser, in case anyone
younger than 60 is reading this) by making me wear a baby’s dummy
around my neck for several weeks, both in the classroom and in the
playground, until my parents complained; complaining was not easy for
them as refugees with less than perfect English.
I recall spending hours after school walking around the city
visiting travel agents, airline offices and consulates collecting
pamphlets. Most parents nowadays wouldn’t contemplate letting a 10 or
11-year old loose in a big city like that, but either they were safer
times, or maybe we just weren’t aware of the dangers. I had a huge
collection of travel pamphlets under my bed for many years.
We were privileged to have a mixed class in days when schools were
nearly all entirely segregated from grade 3 on. I always felt myself to
be more comfortable with girls than many of my non-OC high school mates
seemed to be and I credit this comfort to the OC experience. I have
often pondered, though, on why the ratio of boys to girls in the class
was 2:1. Were girls less intelligent (whoops, did I say that!)? Were
less girls invited as a matter of policy? Were parents more reluctant
to allow girls to travel the extra distance, or even to get an
education?
SOME RECOLLECTIONS FROM JOHN FULLAGAR
1. On Travel
* Catching the “Toast Rack” trams, often in double-car sets, to and
from school - including the frequent wet-weather experience of needing
to pull down the canvas blinds that only partly protected occupants of
the exposed “racks” at both ends of each car.
* Getting on and off the trams just where they entered/exited the
tunnel between the Harbour Bridge’s southern ramparts and Wynyard
Station; in particular, learning to listen for trams approaching the
stop from inside the tunnel, because they could suddenly appear with
little other advance warning.
* The independence of getting ourselves quite a long way to and
from school must have been a major “thing” for us in those days. I
wonder how many parents of primary children today would be comfortable
with their children tackling that same journey on a regular basis.
2. On “Singing Together” on the ABC’s Radio Station 2FC
* Having to walk in twos from the school to the broadcast studio.
* Being told, as an occasion of some note and distinction, at the
dingy and stuffy King Street studio (presumably by Terence Hunt, who
co-ordinated the “Singing Together” series of broadcasts within the
ABC’s overall program of “Broadcasts to Primary Schools”) that we were
the first school choir ever to sing on air every song in a year’s
“Singing Together” broadcasts.
* Being allowed to make our own way home from the studio without
returning to the school after the broadcasts (which ran from 2.30 to
3.00 pm on Tuesdays).
3. On the School
* The office of the Principal - a Mr Reinhardt - containing the
“new” PA system, which we were occasionally allowed to operate. The
system occupied a tall metal frame, with a record player for “78s”, a
radio tuner (there were only AM and shortwave stations), a
valve-powered amplifier that glowed when turned on, and a series of
reed-type selector switches to control first whether the system would
pick up the gramophone or the radio, and secondly where in the whole
school the sound would be heard - classrooms, hall, toilets, front or
rear playgrounds - and there was a microphone with its own switch for
announcements. One outside speaker horn pointed across the “cut” to our
playing area on the Observatory’s slopes, so that we could be “reached”
at lunchtime.
* Miss Acason announcing results of one arithmetic test and saying
“no one gets 100 in my tests, so I have taken off 4 marks for untidy
writing”. She often came across as strict and stern - but that was
probably good for us independent little creatures. I do not recall her
as especially caring (at times she seemed the opposite) but I imagine
she took great care to protect us and nurture us, without wanting to
appear in any way soft. Doubtless, achieving this delicate balance to
give us the best of our Fort Street opportunity was where her real
talent and perceptiveness lay.
* Lining up for our free one-third-pint bottles of milk at
playtime, when the sun had gotten to the milk before us and it had
developed an aroma all of its own.
* Walking down what was then Fort Street itself to cross under the
Harbour Bridge roadway beside the Argyle Cut (to near “our” tram stop
on the East side) for afternoon sport at George V Playground, which was
between the Harbour Bridge roadway and Cumberland Street (opposite the
hotel on the sharp corner of Grosvenor Street, where those untidy and
unsteady men that we were told to avoid used to hang around). We
learned a bit about basketball (well at least, trying to shoot baskets
by bouncing the ball off the backing board) and I think softball and
some gymnastic exercises including running on the spot. I remember
space being limited, equipment more so, and grass being non-existent.
Send any more tales of the old days to ...... 
Back to Menu