Chapter 1: IN THE...

In The Worthy WayIn The Worthy WayIn The Worthy WayIn The Worthy Way by Reg Worthy

Chapter 1:

IN THE BEGINNING

Where to start?

A life full of stops and starts creates a chronological nightmare. An

interstate move, a lost mother and into an orphanage by the tender

age of seven sets the scene for what was to follow.

Maurice Reginald

Worthy

In the Worthy Way ~ Chapter 1: IN THE BEGINNING Page 2 of 12

Where it all began ...

Maurice Reginald Worthy was born at the Salvation Army Maternity Hospital in Adelaide on 5th

August 1920. My mother Eliza who took me home to my father Alfred and my 3 ½ year old brother,

Douglas, in the Adelaide seaside suburb of Semaphore. The name “Maurice” was after my

Grandfather Mortiz Wertheimer but I quickly became known as “Reg”.

Alfred Wertheimer had been born in 1884 in Melbourne to Moritz and Rosa (nee Schenk). Moritz

and Rosa had been born in Pressburg in Hungary and had married there in a Synagogue in 1874.

They migrated to Australia in 1979. Their first son Franz, who had been born in 1876, stayed

behind with an aunt in Hungary for many years. Their next son Charles was born in Adelaide

followed by Arthur, Alfred, Henry and Rudolph all born in Melbourne. The family settled finally in

Perth in Western Australia to raise their four Australian sons. As none of the sons married Jewish

girls, the Jewish nature of the family died out.

My parents had married on the 20 March just four months before I was born. In Adelaide, Alfred

had met this beautiful young woman with her 3 year old son and had fallen in love. Awkwardly,

Alfred had married Martha Sederstrom in Perth and they had had a daughter, Ruth. The marriage

appears to have only lasted about 3 years. When he left Perth he adopted the new surname of

‘Worthy’ and he ventured across to Adelaide where he met Eliza. (The change of name may have

also been because the Great War was in full swing and German sounding names were most

unpopular. The rest of the Perth based family simply adjusted the pronunciation of the German

sounding Wert-heimer to the softer, English sounding "Werth-a-mere".)

Alfred had accepted Eliza with her little boy but there is a deep mystery around Doug’s father. A

story goes that Eliza had a boyfriend who went to the Great War and died, leaving Eliza with baby

Douglas Henderson Midwinter who was born in Nov 1916. However, there is no proof of this story.

My mother Eliza (nee Midwinter) was an only child born in 1897 in Broken Hill in NSW to William

Midwinter and Helen (nee Pryde). Both her parents had been born in Australia. William’s parents

were from Staffordshire in England and Helen’s parents were from Fifeshire in Scotland.

At some stage after Eliza’s birth, her family returned from Broken Hill to her parent home town of

Burra in South Australia. When she was only 15 years old, her father died. Her mother re-married

the following year and at the age of 17, Eliza suddenly had a baby brother. Her mother went on to

have a further 3 children to her new husband. As a young woman, the family story was that Eliza

left home to work in Adelaide as a housekeeper for a Vicar. As her confirmation certificate reads

“House of Mercy Chapel, Walkerville” we discover that she was at a shelter for unmarried mothers

during pregnancy and the first year of their babies' lives. Thus we assume that she left home

pregnant. Eliza was just 19 years old when she gave birth to Douglas. Six months later she was

confirmed in the chapel at the shelter. There in Adelaide, she met my father.

So 35 year old Alfred and 22 year old Eliza married with so many issues hiding in their backgrounds.

Family History

Alfred's mother was referred to as Grandma Brown. Rosa Wertheimer had remarried when

her husband died and was now married to Johann Braughn. Johann became John Brown who was

usually called Jack. They kept in touch with our family and visited when they could. Rosa became

blind after a doctor used the wrong treated on her eyes.

Rosa and Jack are buried in the Seventh Day Adventist section of the Boulder Cemetery in Western

Australia.


Eliza Midwinter

Alfred Worthy

Family home in Semaphore, Adelaide. Middle row: Dad holding Ruth,

mother, Foreground: Doug with Cliff, Mona and me

(Other two couples unknown)

Probably the Worthy home in Semaphore.

Alfred's mum, Grandma Rosa Brown was visiting.

Eliza’s mother Helen Midwinter (nee Pryde) Visiting in Unley: Alf Worthy standing in front with Doug.

Eliza is in a dark dress third from the right.


Interstate Move

Alfred and Eliza continued to grow their family: so in 1927 we were Douglas aged 11, Reg aged 7,

Mona aged 5, Ruth aged 2 when baby Cliff arrived in December that year.

The following year we moved to Bendigo, Victoria. I have no idea why.

One clear memory was being given a clean handkerchief on the day that I was to go to the dentist

with other school children. Sure enough I had extractions that day and a red handkerchief to prove

the after affects of those extractions.

She’s gone ...

During our time in Bendigo, I was aware that I rarely saw my mother and when I did, it was a

glimpse through the doorway into her room. The only other clear recollection is being in a room

with my siblings when my father came and stood in the doorway and leaned against the door and

said something like “she's gone”. Along with my brothers and sisters I cried but I wasn't sure why I

cried. The news was that my mother had died of tuberculosis. It was 4th September 1928 and we

later buried her in the Kangaroo Flat Cemetery in Bendigo.

I remember being puzzled by my father and elder brother Doug carting her mattress and bed

clothes out into the backyard and burning them. I had no idea why they burned them. Now I

understand that the only way for that generation to control the infectious nature of TB was to

isolate and burn all contaminated materials. Eliza had been isolated from her darling children all

this time and we were left bewildered.

Doug has told me recently that Mum talked to him in those last days. She asked him to care for the

other children.

“Orphan”

Initially, Dad struggled to cope with us, his five young, motherless children. At some stage after

mother's death, we moved to Melbourne. Various housekeepers came and went until Dad took us

to the Melbourne Orphanage (in 1928 or 1929) in order to get back on his feet. The Melbourne

Orphanage built a primary school for its children, that was also attended by the local children. It is

still there as Brighton Beach Primary School. From 1878 ‘Windermere’ nestled between

Windermere Crescent and Butler St, Middle Brighton was home to the orphanage until 1956 with

its 5 cottages for different ages and gender. The definition of an ‘orphan’ was a child without

parents or a child from a family in crisis who needed care.

So it’s not surprising that the next clear memories relate to being in an orphanage in Melbourne.

Even now I find it somewhat difficult to recall some of the events that occurred at the orphanage.

It was a very lonely and sad year. Even though my brother Doug was in the same part of the

orphanage, I rarely saw him. My sisters were in another part altogether and I never saw them. I’m

not sure where my brother Cliff was during this time. Recently my daughter Ann met a couple who

told her that they had fostered Cliff in their home for that year - we would never have known this!

As far as I can recall I did not have more than two visits from my father in that year. Later I

discovered that Dad had come to visit us many times only to hesitate to enter and return home

finding it too hard to hug and then leave us again.

The small boys were all housed in one large dormitory where we were required to make our own

beds and make sure that there were made PROPERLY! This included using a broom handle to check

how smooth we had made the top cover. We learned quickly to make an extremely neat, smooth

bed – or the cane! One painful memory was what happened when one wet the bed. The supervisor

would call you out to stand in the middle of the dormitory. He then produced his cane and ordered

you to drop our pants and bend over. That cane hurt.


I don’t recall ever seeing this beautiful old mansion set in idyllic grounds nor cows, only the dormitories, eating area and the back entrance of plain buildings. This photo is from - http://www.walkingmelbourne.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=23&t=5025 .

These top 3 photos are from the State Library of Victoria collection.

Mona, Dad, Cliff, Ruth Alfred Worthy

The tabletop game of “Bobs”.


I cannot recall if we had a bath during the week but on the weekend we had a bath and put on our

best clothes in case visitors came. The bathing process was a further indignity for young boys who

undressed and lined up to get into the big baths under direction from the female staff.

Seeing other children run out and get hugs from their parents or visitors was always a difficult

time. Loneliness bites deep into the soul of a child.

One day each week after school we would line up and be given a large spoon of castor oil. We

would then all run and line up at the toilet. It seems odd, but I remember that while we waited our

turn for the toilets, I would get out from my pocket, a piece of bread with Golden syrup on it, that I

had kept from breakfast.

As orphanage children we all wore the same clothes and were therefore readily identified at the

school next door to the orphanage. Whenever there was trouble between the kids, sure enough it

was always caused by “those kids”.

While playing Bobs [a kind of tabletop billiard game] on a deal table in the orphanage I ended up

with a large splinter in my right thumb. It became badly infected and the nail started to swell and

come loose and the nurse decided to remove it by using small scissors and cutting it into four

pieces. I fainted as the scissors were pushed down the centre of the thumb nail.

I have no recollection whatever of leaving the orphanage and moving into a house which my father

had rented in St Kilda.

Home Sweet Home

During the next three years we moved house several times until we settled into No. 2 McVean

Street in Brunswick. Although we were only there for a year, this was a happy time due to the fact

that we were located directly opposite Royal Park. This meant that with some of the other children

in the street, we had stacks of room to play cricket and football and any other game without any

problem of traffic or other people.

While at McVean Street I found a lost whippet dog that I kept and we became very good friends.

However, after about a fortnight I was exercising him in Royal Park when a man on his way to the

railway station asked me about the dog and said that he thought that it was a proper racing dog

and what was I doing with it. He then looked in the dog's ear and there was a mark of some kind

which he said showed who the owner was. Somehow or other I no longer had the dog.

Depression Education

At this time I was attending the Brunswick South West State School and I was now eight years of

age and my 12 year old brother Doug was kept at home to do the housework and cooking. I know

that there were questions asked about him not attending school but somehow or other this

continued and that was the last time that Doug ever attended school. His year at the orphanage

had been a very happy one for Doug has he had been cared for, feed regularly and went to school.

At home he was the ‘housekeeper’ and bore the brunt of Dad’s frustrations. My class teacher was

Mr Hamilton and I liked him a lot as he was also the sports teacher.

Not long after I turned nine in 1929, the Great Depression began. It was a time of extreme

hardship for people in Australia and for many people the hardships lasted until the Second World

War. Many people were starving. Unemployment in Australia was already at ten per cent before it

began and by 1932 almost thirty-two per cent of Australians were out of work. For our family,

there were a lot of ramifications. Dad worked when and where he could mostly as an auctioneer.

The next few homes took us to several inner city suburbs including Northcote and Brunswick. In an

attempt to avoid the embarrassment of not being able to pay the rent, I recall Dad waking me up in

the middle of the night to gather up my clothes and belongings and to help my little siblings move

on to new lodgings.


Although my father worked as an auctioneer in Elizabeth Street Melbourne, we often went short of

food as a result of his gambling and drinking. Breakfast was always Weeties. I remember walking to

the Weeties factory situated on the corner of Brunswick Road and Lygon Street in East Brunswick

with a pillow case and I paid one shilling for a pillowcase full of Weeties. This was a good deal as a

packet of Weeties cost 5 ½ pence.

One peculiar purchase as an 8 year old was to go to the grocer and buy ½ penny’s worth of broken

biscuits that the grocer wrapped in a newspaper cone.

Meals varied little over the years and usually consisted of the cheapest cuts of meat, tripe,

sausages, black puddings, cabbage and potatoes. Sweets were often bread and butter pudding. On

Sundays we sometimes had a roast of beef that had been baked in dripping. The dripping was kept

and we used it to spread on bread and add some salt.

As we often went to school without lunch I faced one of the most humiliating experiences of my

early life. At lunchtime the teacher would call out those children who did not have lunch and we

would line up outside the boiler house. We would then be given a pastie or a meat pie which had

been heated up on the huge boiler that warmed the school. The fact that all the other children

could see us in the line up was distressing.

One means of obtaining food was to walk to the Brunswick Market in Sydney Road with Doug and

we would wait behind the greengrocer’s stall. When he sold a cabbage he would cut off the

outside leaves and throw them behind his stall. That’s when we collected them and put them in a

sugar bag to take home.

Today it seems incredible that health regulations were such that the milkman delivered milk to

your door. Out of his milk urn he would ladle whatever was ordered into your open topped tin or

large jug. Milkmen were known to occasionally stop at the water tap in your front garden to top up

his urn.

Bakers delivered bread in the same way and actually knocked on your door to find out what you

wanted if you did not have a regular order which would be left on your door step. One of my

standard jokes later on, as a 14 year old, was that I “had been through University before I was 15”.

Technically it was true, but it was on the back of a baker’s cart trying to earn a little money.

Helping a baker often meant riding on the step at the back of the cart and getting out whatever he

called out to you. Sometimes you rode in front with him.

“Now Fight!”

It was not all bad news at South West Brunswick as I enjoyed learning and I made friends with

three or four other children and enjoyed the sports time. I became a good high jumper and was a

reasonably good bowler at cricket. There was one episode that was not so good when somehow or

other I upset one of the boys in my class. He was someone whom I did not know well except that I

remember his name to this day. Buckland. He and his friend Jones were always together and often

in trouble. Whatever it was that I said to upset him, resulted in him challenging me to a fight after

school. I went on my way not willing to accept the challenge of such a bully. However, I remember

clearly that he caught up with me and took my school bag from me and said, “Now fight”. There

were two hits in the fight. He hit me and I hit the ground. Boy did my bleeding nose hurt.

There are very few happy memories. Most of my memories relate to rather unhappy events such

as when the class of Grade 6 at South West Brunswick State School planned a visit to Yallourn Coal

Mine. Each child was required to pay five shillings for the train fare. I did not have five shillings so I

asked my dad for it. I did not get the five shillings but I did get a clip over the ear for bothering to

expect him to give me money to use in a way that, to him, was really only a waste. As I recall it,

there were six or seven children left in the class who did not go to Yallourn and our reward for not

going was to spend the day doing school work.

Every year the school put on a concert at the Brunswick Town Hall and one of the events that year

was a depiction of a coach and horses and I was one of the four horses. At our final rehearsal I was


told that I needed to get a pair of white running shoes like the other three boys and to have them

on the night of the concert. Once again dad refused to spend one shilling for the running shoes.

When I turned up at the town hall on the night of the concert without the shoes I was not allowed

to participate.

In case you should get the wrong idea my father was not always so mean. If he had a good day at

the races and won some money he would even give me 2 shillings and sixpence. Right now it is

impossible to understand how a firm like GJ Coles could have a store which advertised “nothing

over 2 shillings and sixpence”. Just imagine walking into a Coles store with a full range of products

including shoes, dresses, jewellery, crockery and so on with the dearest item no more than 25

cents.

To put it into context, you need to know that the adult wage was three pounds, ten shillings, that

is, $7. Well that’s how it was!

Family Affairs

During this time, Grandpa Brown came from Western Australia on a visit to the family. While he

was here, he took us children, all five of us, to the Royal Melbourne Show and at lunch time took

us into the cafeteria. As this was my first visit ever to a cafeteria where a variety of food was laid

out on plates for you to help yourself to, I well remember to my shame how I loaded my tray.

Eventually I was unable to eat all that I had chosen. Grandpa said, "I take it your eyes were bigger

than your belly." He was right.

To my enormous surprise, I received a small packet addressed to me from Western Australia. It

was from Grandpa. When I opened it, I was even more surprised than ever as the object in the

packet started to move about. When I took the wrapping off, I saw that it was a Thorny Devil lizard.

I later found out that it's habitat was the hot desert of Western & Central Australia. Needless to

say, it didn't live long. I managed to keep it alive for 2 or 3 weeks by tying a string about its neck

attached to a post where it could eat ants. It loved to eat ants. When it died, I did a taxidermy act

on it and kept the skin for some years.

The laws relating to keeping native animals as pets has changed dramatically since I was the ten

year old holder of a galah and a yellow crested white cockatoo. Each of these birds was bought in

the Vic Market for 2 shillings and 6 pence each. I kept them for many months until each of them

escaped. Other animals available in the market were guinea pigs, rabbits, snakes, tortoises as well

as the usual cats and dogs.

During my time at home with Dad from eight until I left home at 17, we had a series of live-in

house keepers. As previously mentioned, Doug stayed home to help out as there were two little

sisters and baby Cliff to care for. Once he could earn money at 14 he was off to work. Eventually

one housekeeper stayed on long term, Ethel. Ethel came with her son Alan who was about Cliff's

age and they lived with us for several years. Doug and I were far too independent by now for a

“mother” figure and stayed out of her way as much as possible. My sisters, however, loved having

a caring woman around and became quite close to her. When Mona married, Ethel moved in with

her for a time.

Escape

One Sunday morning I and my sister Mona were up early while everybody else was asleep. After

helping ourselves to breakfast I asked Mona if she would like to come for a walk. At the time I was

12 and Mona was 8 and she had no idea what I had in mind. I knew that my Uncle Rudy and Auntie

Cis lived in a big house in Hawthorn as I had been there on an earlier occasion when dad took us

there to meet our relatives. The fact that it was about seven or eight miles from Brunswick didn't

enter my head. Anyhow we set off and somehow or other I managed to find my way through

Carlton and East Melbourne, finally arriving at my uncle's house.


When I knocked on the door Auntie Cis looked at me and especially at poor little Mona standing

beside me. Auntie Cis invited us in and gave us something to eat but asked what on earth we were

doing there. I had no explanation other than the fact that at the time I thought that it was a good

idea. Although they had a telephone in the house for their taxi business we did not have one at

home, therefore they were unable to ring my dad and tell him where we were. Uncle Rudy then

got out his taxi and drove us home. This was the only time in my life that I had been in a taxi.

The belting that I got on my arrival, soon took away the joy of the adventure.

Music

In my endeavour to do whatever I could I to better myself when I was 12, I took piano lessons with

the teacher in Brunswick Road and continued for about six weeks. Money from my hedge cutting

business was used to pay for the lessons. Although I had no piano at home, the teacher thought I

was doing very well but recommended that I discontinue until we bought a piano, which of course,

we never did.

For the rest of my life I enjoyed playing songs by ear but ensured my children all had music lessons.

Money, money, money!

When I was 12 years old I wanted pocket money and the only way I would have any was if I earned

it. As a result I mowed lawns and then developed the small business of cutting hedges. To do this I

built a box trailer to fit on the back of my push-bike and as I recall, I paid five shillings for a pair of

hedge clippers. I would then go around the streets looking for untidy hedges, offering to trim them

and take away the cuttings. This proved to be lucrative and I earned a good deal of money.

One pleasurable way of earning money was to attend the football matches at the Carlton Football

Ground each Saturday afternoon as a lolly boy. Selling sweets meant that I had free entry to the

ground and got paid depending upon how much I collected from the day’s sales. Soon after I

started selling lollies I learned a very good lesson. I could never understand why I seemed to be

short of money compared to what was left on the tray which we carried over our shoulder on a

strap, but I soon learned the answer. I learned that as soon as you put the tray strap over your

shoulders and the tray held out in front of you, it was essential that you pulled your elbows in close

to your side because unscrupulous fans and other lolly boy's could easily slip their hand under your

arm and relieve you of a couple of sixpenny sweets.

Although I worked at the Carlton football ground I barracked for St Kilda and it was always exciting

when St Kilda was playing Carlton. There was not much to cheer Saints' fans in the depression of

the 1930's, apart from the magnificent goal kicking of full-forward Bill Mohr. The ex-Wagga full-

forward was one of the League's greatest players in an era noted for great spearheads, and in 1936

he became the first Saint to top the goal kicking list, with 101.

Another activity to earn money was to dig for beer bottles at the local tip which was opposite our

house. Three pence for 12 bottles meant digging for some time to earn that threepence. Some

days I could dig for an hour or more and find nothing. Now and again I found two or three bottles

together. All this digging had to be done when the caretaker was at home. He was the only one

allowed to dig for bottles. It was these activities that earned an income that allowed me to pay for

my Scout’s uniform.

King’s Scout

By the time I was 11 or 12, I had joined the Boy Scouts and it was the best thing I ever did. I made

good friends and learned heaps.

Scouting became an obsession with me and I quickly earned many badges and ultimately was

awarded the King's Scout badge. This award caused quite a stir as the members of the 5th

Brunswick Scout Troop had never before earned a King’s Scout Badge.


Uncles Rudi and Harry

The article reads, “No … the apostrophe in

the heading above the picture is not

incorrect … the two girls have been awarded

coveted Queen’s Badges. This is quite a royal

family in a way. Proud father and former

King’s Badge winner as a scout, stands with

daughters Robyn left and Ruth after they

received their Queen’s Badges.”

Grandma Rosa and Grandpa Jack Brown

Mona and Ruth with umbrellas. Housekeeper Ethel on the chair.

Her son Alan on her right and Cliff by her left foot.

Reg Worthy in his Scout uniform

A Queen’s Scout

badge


Later in life, two of my daughters, Robyn and Ruth, earned Queen’s Badges and the Northern

Territory newspaper published a photo of “A king and two queen's”.

The article reads, “No … the apostrophe in the heading above the picture is not incorrect … the two

girls have been awarded coveted Queen’s Badges. This is quite a royal family in a way. Proud father

and former King’s Badge winner as a scout, stands with daughters Robyn left and Ruth after they

received their Queen’s Badges.”

On Saturday late afternoons and Tuesday late afternoon I sold newspapers at the corner of Sydney

Rd and Brunswick Road near the Sarah Sands Hotel. This was sometimes uncomfortable due to the

weather and perhaps the lack of decent shoes and wet weather clothes.

On one occasion there was an accident at the corner and a man who had been hurt was bleeding

from his ear and he was unconscious. When I saw one of the men in the crowd lift the man's head

and start to shake him to try and get his name, I ran over and stopped him because I knew as a

Scout first aider that bleeding from the ear was extremely serious and medical help was needed.

When the man challenged me as a kid telling him what to do, one of the other men in the crowd

said “I know that kid. That’s Alby Worthy’s son. He knows what he's doing, so leave him alone”.

Shortly afterwards an ambulance came and took the guy away.

Guns

To my shame, one of my favourite hobbies was shooting sparrows with a beebee gun. On

reflection, I realize just how dangerous that activity was because I often shot at sparrows sitting on

the fence between us and our neighbour. The fact that the neighbours kids and us often looked up

over the fence, showed just how dangerous this may have been.

While we were living in Heller Street in West Brunswick our local grocer allowed me to borrow his

old push-bike to go rabbit hunting on Sunday. The nearest place to be sure to get rabbits was at

Wallan, about 25 miles away and that meant pushing this old bike up several hills. However it was

always worthwhile. I had saved up enough to buy a Savage .22 rifle which was legal in those days

and not even needed a licence or a record that it existed. I usually came home with two or three

rabbits which provided meat for the family for days. The rabbit skins were stretched out on

reshaped wire coat hangers and hung on the fence to dry. As soon as I had a dozen or so skins I

sold them to the furrier.

My brothers and sisters

Doug worked for Kaiser for most of his life and married Edna;

Mona married Des who worked for Tip Top Bakeries all his working life;

Ruth was a wonderful ice skater who married Jim, a fitter and turner who worker for various

companies;

and Cliff, a wonderful horseman, worked with horses all his life and married Val.

They have all lived in and around Melbourne all their lives. Doug, Edna and Mona are still alive now

in 2013 and we are in regular contact.

** POSTSCRIPT: Doug died at age 99 in June 2016. His wife Edna died at age 92 in April 2017.


The only studio portrait taken of us as

children.

Cliff, Ruth, me, Doug and Mona.

Doug, Reg, Mona, Ruth, Cliff at my 70th

birthday party.

Reg, Doug, Mona for Doug's 96th birthday Nov 2012

Reg, Muriel, Alfred, Mona, Des, Ethel, Doug, Ruth, Cliff, Jim

(Edna is missing - taking the photo?)

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