Landor: A Saga of Siblings, Schooling, Sparring, and Sinking

By Jeff Hopkins

Leonora Gaerth was a foster child, and her younger brother, Landor, was adopted. They grew up in the coalmining town of Collie in the southwest of Western Australia. Leonora showed exceptional talent and skills as a dressmaker before winning a scholarship to Modern School in Perth where she matriculated and went on to study law at the University of Western Australia. Landor was often used as a tailor’s dummy for Leonora’s projects. His big sister kept him interested by teaching him how to cut and stitch and rewarded him by painting his fingernails for the first time. Landor became a plumber’s apprentice and met ‘Ginger’ Sutherland when he was assigned to Ginger’s garage and workshop project. Ginger taught Landor the pugilistic arts. A murder at Minninup Pool in Collie threatened to derail both siblings’ lives.

When the Second World War broke out in 1939. Landor volunteered for the Royal Australian Navy and saw action in the Mediterranean Sea as part of the crew of HMAS ‘Parramatta’ II before his ship was torpedoed by a German submarine. With seven of his shipmates Landor was plucked from the sea by the Germans and spent the last three and a half years of the war in a German prisoner of war camp, Stalag 334.

After the war Landor was reunited with his successful barrister sister in Perth, Western Australia. Leonora reveals what she knows of their joint histories. Landor seeks to find out who his biological parents were. All is revealed at Landor Station near Meekatharra. Landor now knows who he is and in what direction he wants to take in life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Aug 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9781923065277

Jeff Hopkins

Jeff Hopkins (1950) is a retired schoolteacher. He lives in Walyalup, Western Australia. Walyalup which means 'lungs' is the Whadjuk name for Fremantle, and is part of the Noongar Nation. As the drama master at Hale School in Perth, he wrote ten original musical plays and produced and directed them at the school.In 1992, he researched and wrote a family history, 'Life's Race Well Run', and after retiring in 2006 he has written twenty novels, a memoir, and three 'faction' biographies.

Book preview

Chapter 1: Leonard Stephen Gaerth

Where a returned serviceman fails in a soldier settlement scheme.

Leonard Stephen Gaerth was the eldest son of Stephen and Florence Gaerth a Catholic couple with six children. Jokingly, Stephen described his children as three ‘pigeon pairs’. They had been produced in alternate order of a boy followed by a girl. They lived in Wray Avenue South Fremantle, which sounded more salubrious than it was, although the Gaerths had a reasonable lifestyle. The 1901 census listed Stephen as a tally clerk at the newly created Fremantle port, Florence’s occupation was designated as ‘home duties’. The couple’s first son, Leonard, was born in 1896 and his name had German origins and meant ‘lion’s strength’. He was an active little boy and as soon as he went to the Catholic Sister’s school in the local area he was recognised as a bright personality, making good progress in his studies, and excelling in all forms of athletic activity.

Lenny’s father, Stephen loved auctions. He would always attend whatever auctions were on, whether they were weekly events in the warehouses of professional auctioneers, or suburban clearances of deceased estates or people who had been evicted from their houses and whose meagre possessions were displayed for all to see. Evictees’ lives were laid bare in their former front yard. Stephen had a good eye, and he didn’t buy junk. He was attracted to sturdy well-made furniture and always bid on tables, chairs, beds, and sideboards. Most were out of his price range, but he did secure a few good pieces that Florence cleaned and polished assiduously. Often Stephen would take his young son, Lenny, to auctions hoping to introduce him, at an early age, into the mysterious world of the bargain hunt.

In 1908, when the widow Roberts died and her house and contents were put up for sale, Stephen attended, and Lenny tagged along in his wake. Widow Roberts’ old dwelling was set back from the road and had been known locally as the ‘doll’s house’ because of its similarity to nursery furniture of the period. The flash auctioneer in his shiny suit and tie was not much interested in the contents. He just wanted to get rid of them so he could concentrate on the selling of the house which would earn him the greater commission. A small crowd had gathered; most were there to bid on the iconic house.

Among the contents on display was a Beale Pianola with an accompanying stylish stool and a wooden box stuffed full of pianola music rolls and Stephen was fascinated by it. During the inspection period Stephen had examined the pianola in detail and was pleased to note that the brass candelabra fittings on the front facing board either side of ‘middle C’ were undamaged. He then tested out a few black and ivory keys and completed his inspection with an improvised descending glissando that amused the swelling crowd. When the auction proper began Stephen was outbid on a table he rather liked and was disappointed. Then the pianola came up for auction and it barely attracted a bid.

‘Will someone start me at £10?’

No bids.

‘How about £7/10/0 just to get us going?’

No bids.

‘I am practically giving it away at £5.’

Stephen Gaerth’s auction instincts made him edgy. He raised two fingers as if he was ordering pints of beer at the pub and the auctioneer leapt upon the bid and knocked the pianola down to him, glad to get rid of it and move on so he could get to the house auction without delay.

‘Did you just buy a piano, dad?’ asked an intrigued Lenny Gaerth.

‘I did son. It was a bargain!’

Even as he said it Stephen realised he had paid more than a week’s wages for the instrument.

‘But no one in our house plays the piano, dad.’

‘With a pianola you don’t have to know how to play, Lenny. All you do is pedal. It’s just like riding a bike.’

‘How will we get it home?’

‘Ah, good point.’

In the end they pushed the Beale pianola on its sturdy brass castors all the way home. Stephen offered two likely lads two bob each if they helped. Fortuitously, it was mostly downhill, and Stephen and Lenny and the lads managed to lift it across the threshold of the Wray Avenue house and the Beale pianola found its place in the front room where it stayed for many years.

Florence was flummoxed at the amount of money Stephen had spent on what was little more than a luxury item. She chided Stephen indicating that if Lenny was going to go to the Fremantle Boys’ Catholic College in the new year, they would need all the money they could save for his uniform and school equipment. When she had settled down, Florence revealed for the first time that she had in fact learned to play the piano as a child but had not ‘tickled the ivories’ for years. She sat down on the piano stool and played ‘Auld Lang Syne’ with few errors in the fingering. For many years the Beale Pianola provided entertainment and singalongs for the Gaerths’ family and friends, and Lenny’s sisters were all taught to play by their mother who remembered much more about the art of a pianist than she thought she would.

Lenny did go to the Christian Brothers’ College, CBC Fremantle, and stayed a year past the age that children could legally leave school. When he did leave it was for a position in the accounts’ department of a shipping firm in the west end of Fremantle and he succeeded well with his quick calculations and elegant entries in ledgers and account books. He lived at home and Florence indicated he would need to pay board for the privilege. He was happy to do so. Ten shillings a week was the figure Florence set which was close to half the junior accounts’ clerk’s pay packet.

When the First World War was declared on the 28th of July 1914, Lenny got swept up in the wave of patriotism and desire for adventure that engulfed the young men of the nation, and he volunteered. On August the 17th 1914, just twenty days after war was declared, Lenny was part of the first volunteers who arrived at the newly established Blackboy Hill, a camp at the foot of the Darling Ranges, east of Perth. It was an integral part of the birthplace of the first division of the Australian Imperial Force, the AIF. In Western Australia over thirty-two thousand men passed through the Blackboy Hill camp before heading off to war. Western Australia’s 11th Battalion which included Lenny Gaerth was the first raised in the state. Four days later, ‘The West Australian’ newspaper reported:

‘The military encampment at Blackboy Hill is now firmly established as a going concern. The various corps are in active training and squads of men are to be seen on all sides going through their drill.’

By the 29th of August, a post office opened at the camp, and after a storm destroyed all the tents recruits were living in, a more permanent camp with huts and cook houses was built.

Later the local newspaper further recorded:

‘The initial training here was mainly limited to marching, drilling, musketry practice, and other basic military tasks. The people who were trained here were very much respected as soldiers. They were known as some of the strongest and toughest of all those who went to war.’

Lenny Gaerth was in the first contingent of the Australian Infantry forces that departed from Albany on the 1st of November 1914. Florence lit a candle for her son twice a week at St. Patrick’s Basilica in Fremantle and prayed that he would be kept safe and come back home again.

Lenny trained in Egypt, saw action at Gallipoli and the Western Front in France. He was sensible, obeyed orders, kept his head down and tried to avoid risks. In his own mind he didn’t think he was the heroic type. He was eventually promoted to corporal. Lenny’s war ended at the Battle of Bullecourt in France on the 11th of April 1917.

Bullecourt, a village in northern France, was one of several villages to be heavily fortified and incorporated into the defences of the Hindenburg Line.

In March 1917, the German army had withdrawn to the Hindenburg Line to shorten their front and thus make their positions easier to defend. This move was rapidly followed up by the British and empire forces, and they launched an offensive around Arras in early April 1917. To assist the Arras operations, an attack was launched on Bullecourt on the 11th of April 1917 by Australian and British Divisions. The attack was hastily planned and resulted in disaster. Tanks which were supposed to support the attacking Australian infantry either broke down or were quickly destroyed. Nevertheless, the infantry managed to break into the German defences. Due to uncertainty as to how far they had advanced, supporting artillery fire was withheld, and eventually the Australians were hemmed in and forced to retreat. The two brigades that carried out the attack, suffered over three thousand, three hundred casualties; one thousand one hundred and seventy Australians were taken prisoner, the largest number captured in a single engagement during World War I.

Lenny Gaerth was badly injured by machine gun fire during this failed attack which resulted in life threatening injuries. He was evacuated to England where he was treated in a military hospital for several months and then he was invalided out of the army and sent back to Western Australia. He spent another few weeks, off and on, in Fremantle hospital undergoing reconstructive surgery and trying to recover from his war wounds. When he arrived back from the war Leonard Stephen Gaerth was a changed man.

Stephen and Florence saw it immediately and were deeply troubled. His siblings could barely remember what he was like before he went away, but they avoided him because of his dramatic mood swings. Lenny tried to resume his position as a clerk at the shipping company, but he was haunted. Sudden noises like the banging of a door in a draft caused him to shudder and shake. He found office talk which revolved around the war, how it was going, and when it might end, irritated him. Lenny was particularly upset when people who had no knowledge of the conditions on the front line gave their ill-informed and ignorant opinions on what should be done. His absenteeism at the shipping company’s office started to worry his immediate superiors. They were concerned about his work output and how it was affecting their business. Shipping was a highly scheduled business and unnecessary delays cost money.

Closer to home Lenny’s mother, Florence, was keen for him to return to the church. She encouraged him to join her at mass and make a regular confession. Initially Lenny tried to ignore his mother’s requests, but eventually he flew into a rage and declared:

‘No God who allowed what was happening in this war was worth worshipping!’

Florence was shattered by her eldest son’s outburst, and they did not speak to one another for some time. Lenny just couldn’t settle back into any form of civilian life that he had known before and decided he needed a complete change of scenery and environment. Eventually he applied to become a part of a soldier settlement scheme in the Margaret River region in the southwest of Western Australia.

Lenny got a fifty-acre allocation of land and was supplied with a tent when he first moved onto the block. Under the subsidised payment arrangements for the scheme he was able to do extra work outside and he used his accounting skills to supplement his income as he built his own small cottage and began clearing that portion of his allotment that was permitted. It was excruciatingly hard work, but at least there were no bombs or gunfire to contend with. It was also lonely. For a while the isolation was beneficial and therapeutic, but after barely a year Lenny decided he was not going to make it as a dairy farmer, and the block would never give him what he wanted.

In 1920 he simply walked off his allocated fifty acres and kept walking the ninety-five miles from Margaret River via Yallingup, Busselton, and Bunbury to the town of Collie. Lenny rented a small cottage within the town and let the people of Collie know, by word of mouth, that he was a qualified accountant. He found work auditing the books of some small business in the town, and preparing taxation returns for Collie residents. He barely managed to make ends meet. Stephen and Florence brought some furniture on a trailer tow-balled behind the family car down to Collie to help Lenny get established. These were items that Stephen had picked up at auction and his parents thought Lenny should have them to help him become more comfortable. Florence suggested Lenny should start going to church and join the Catholic community as a way to become better known, and settle into town life, but he eschewed the idea. When they left, both parents were content that Lenny had recovered from his war time experiences and his failed attempt on the soldier settlement scheme and they thought he might make a success of his new life in Collie.

Then things looked up. Lenny Gaerth heard that the owner of the mining company that was being started in Collie with a view to eventually establishing a coal mine was looking for an accountant. Lenny applied. Dudley Theodore was impressed by the now twenty-four-year-old. He listened carefully to Lenny’s description of his education, previous experience, war service, the terrible injuries he suffered in France, and his repatriation back to Western Australia. Lenny was quite open about his failure in the soldier settlement scheme and Dudley Theodore sympathised with him saying he had heard many similar stories of men and families who could not make a go of it. Lenny got the job.

The only thing now missing from Lenny’s life was a partner and soulmate. A solution to that problem soon presented itself in the form of Doreen Rhonda Cannell.

Chapter 2: Doreen Rhonda Cannell

Where a relieving Reverend’s daughter buys a sewing machine and gets a whole lot more besides.

Doreen Cannell was the only daughter of the Reverend Richard Cannell and his wife, Joan. Reverend Cannell had been involved in the Anglican church for nearly two decades. He had been a deacon in metropolitan churches and when he was assigned to be a relieving priest at All Saints Church in Collie it was assumed he would eventually take over as the parish vicar. All Saints Church was located at the intersection of Venn and Harvey Streets and the foundation stone had been laid in 1915. When the impressive church building was complete a separate clergy house, also built in brick and tile, was erected next door. It was this relatively new dwelling that Reverend Cannon and his family moved into halfway through 1918 before the First World War had ended. They thought they would be very comfortable and hoped the full-time priest’s position would be confirmed. However, things sometimes move glacially in the church administration and in 1920 Richard Cannell had been relieving in the coal mining town for eighteen months with no indication if and when he would assume the full-time position. For all intents and purposes he was the parish priest and his parishioners treated him as such.

Richard and Joan’s daughter, Doreen, was seventeen years old when the Cannells arrived in Collie. She had completed her formal education at a school in the metropolitan area and now she sought employment in this odd little coal town. She found a position as a seamstress working in the back room of Mavis Langford’s dress shop, a quaint establishment in Throssell Street which was the main thoroughfare. There was one other seamstress in the backroom, a mature lady named Thelma who specialised in tailored wear like jackets and coats. Mavis Langford styled her establishment as an upmarket dress shop. She was regularly commissioned to design and make wedding dresses for prospective brides and in some cases she made the bridesmaids’ dresses as well. The few women who could afford Mavis’s prices asked her to design and execute bespoke ball gowns for events that took place in Collie and nearby towns at various times during the year.

There was also a demand for lovely little girls’ dresses for first communions at the Catholic church. Party dresses or fancy dancing costumes for concert performances were also undertaken. Mavis allowed herself to be called upon to consult on the costumes for the local dramatic society, but she did not make the actual apparel. Mavis’s busiest time occurred when various debutante balls were held in Collie and surrounding towns. She dressed the young women of the town who were making their entrance into society although that is rather too grander term for what was actually happening.

When client demand slowed to a trickle Mavis designed an eccentric wardrobe for herself and had her seamstresses execute the exotic clothes she wore. It kept her shop open, and her two employees in work and wages and entertained the local population when Mavis appeared in the town in one of her bespoke outfits. The dress shop did not cater for everyday wear. Working class women made their own clothes for themselves and their children and Mavis didn’t see it in her remit to descend to that level.

As a consequence Doreen was required to learn many skills quite quickly. Mavis insisted on hand stitching and was demanding when delicate embroidery or lace and jewelled embellishments were required in a gown. After a year and a half in the backroom of Mavis Langford’s dress shop, Doreen Cannell was an accomplished seamstress and even Mavis recognised what an asset she had gained, and rewarded Doreen with modest annual increases in her wages.

As a young woman living in the church clergy house, Doreen was admired at a distance but none of the young men in the town dared to seek her out for companionship. This meant she lived a rather cloistered and lonely life. Doreen helped her mother do the flowers for the church and she attended almost all the services that her father gave during the week. Apart from the pre-pubescent altar boys and the rather awkward schoolboys who attended church as a part of their family group, Doreen had little or no contact or experience in dealing with boys and young men around her own age who might be interested in her as a partner.

Doreen had the idea of expanding her skills as a seamstress and she thought if she was going to make her own clothes and manufacture cheap garments for the poorer parishioners in her father’s church, she would probably need a sewing machine. She had set her heart on a Singer treadle sewing machine, but in Collie there was nowhere to buy or order one. Probably a shopping trip to Perth was going to be required. Doreen discussed this with her father and mother and when she assured them she had saved enough money from working at Mavis Langford’s dress shop to afford one, Richard Cannell agreed to take her to Perth to try and secure a machine.

Fate and destiny intervened. Reverend Cannell was informed by one of his parishioners that a Singer treadle sewing machine was going to be auctioned at a dispersal sale to be held at the second-hand warehouse on the following Saturday morning. Doreen sought permission from her father to go.

‘Would you like me to accompany you to the auction, my dear? Auctions can be quite daunting for the inexperienced.’

‘Thank you daddy, but if you don’t mind I would prefer to go alone. There is only one way to gain experience when you have none.’

‘Indeed. Well, be careful. Do your due diligence and don’t bid on an item that is broken or beyond repair. Set a strict limit for how much you want to spend.’

‘I will daddy.’

‘One final point wear a distinctive hat and white gloves. The auctioneer might be drawn to both when you bid.’

‘You are quite amusing at times, daddy. I’ll dress appropriately.’

Doreen in a smart Sunday hat and white gloves attended the warehouse on the Saturday morning and was completely bewildered by the vast array of used furniture that was crammed into the comparatively small space. She had come early hoping to find the Singer treadle machine and give it a test before the auction began but she couldn’t see it and had no idea where to start looking. Then a smartly dressed young man appeared from a ramshackle avenue of cupboards and closets. He barely avoided bumping into Doreen. Lenny Gaerth apologised.

‘I am sorry Miss; I was completely distracted.’

‘No harm done.’

‘Are you here for the auction?’

‘I was. However, I can’t find what I am looking for, and I really don’t know where to start searching in this labyrinth of furniture.’

‘Perhaps I can help, what are you seeking?’

‘I believe a Singer treadle sewing machine is up for auction this morning.’

Lenny smiled.

‘There is one and I know exactly where it is in this jumble of junk. Follow me, I’ll show you.’

Lenny navigated the maze of tables, chairs, highboys, dressing tables, beds and desks and led Doreen straight to the Singer, tucked neatly away among some occasional tables.

‘Here it is.’

‘But where is the machine?’

Wordlessly, Lenny manipulated the mechanism and the Singer sewing machine flipped up from below the tabletop to take its place snugly as part of the veneered surface.

‘Voila!’

‘Voila? Do you speak French?’

‘Not really, but I picked up some vocabulary while I was stationed in France during the First World War.’

Doreen’s concerned look expressed the fact that she was glad the young man in front of her had seemingly escaped the war unscathed. She was too polite to comment.

‘Is this the machine you were looking for?’

‘It is. Do you think I would be allowed to test it before the auction?’

‘Of course. This is the inspection period. You get to look at things thoroughly before you bid on them.’

Doreen drew cotton and a piece of cloth from her handbag and then looked helpless as there was nowhere to sit to operate the machine. Lenny saw the problem and with the skilful handling of a conjurer he picked up a chair that was nearby and set it in front of the Singer sewing table. Doreen looked a little embarrassed and then sat down, removed her gloves, and efficiently threaded the machine and placed the cloth on the throat plate, aligned it with the feed dog and needle plate and gently lowered the pressure lever. Then tentatively she began to push the pedal plate and the machine stitched a straight line. Doreen released the pressure lever, double folded her piece of cloth, and stitched a hem all around its perimeter. Lenny watched fascinated impressed by the nimbleness of this young woman’s fingers.

‘Well, it seems to work,’ observed Lenny.

‘I think it is in working order, all it needs is a good clean and polish.’

‘And perhaps a little lubrication on all its moving parts,’ added Lenny with a man’s innate sense of what machinery required.

‘You are probably right on that score. Now all I have to do is bid for it in the auction.’

‘I hope you don’t think I am being too forward, but would you allow me to bid for the machine on your behalf? I think I am a little more experienced at this game than you.’

‘Would you?’ asked a relieved Doreen. ‘I would really appreciate that.’

‘It would be my pleasure. What’s the lot number on the tag?’

Doreen found the tag and turned it over.

‘Sixty-six.’

‘Right. Let’s see what we can secure Lot 66 for. What is your spending limit?’

‘I really don’t want to spend more than £3.’

‘Good. I’ll work within that figure.’

‘Thank you so much. I don’t even know your name?’

‘I’m Lenny Gaerth and I know you are the Anglican priest’s daughter.’

‘That’s right. Doreen Cannell, but my father is only the relieving priest.’

‘Oh, I see. Let’s get a good position where the auctioneer can see us. You stand beside me. Your attractive hat and white gloves will draw his attention towards us.’

Doreen smiled recognising the ploy her father had also suggested. Once it began the auction belted along at machine gun pace as bids were made with rapid fire and accepted, and lots were knocked down to various buyers. Some items saw lively bidding contests for what looked to be valuable antique furniture. Amid the chaos Doreen could barely follow the action. Then Lot 66 was up.

‘Lot 66. A 1912 Singer treadle sewing machine. Who will start me off?’

From the left of the room came the opening bid.

‘Ten bob.’

‘It is mechanically sound and in good working order.’

‘Twelve and six.’

‘Fifteen shillings.’

Lenny had not moved. He was listening and watching intently.

‘Any advance on fifteen shillings? All out and done. I am going to sell the machine.’

Lenny’s hand shot up.

‘Seventeen and six.’

‘The bids against you, Sir,’ said the auctioneer pointing to the man on his right. ‘Don’t lose the machine for a mere two and sixpence more.’

The fifteen-shilling bidder shook his head.

‘All out and done. Sold to you, Sir, for seventeen shillings and sixpence.’

Doreen was so excited she hugged Lenny and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

‘Thank you so much, Lenny.’

Lenny was a little nonplussed but pleased.

‘How do you propose to get the machine home, Miss Doreen Cannell?’

‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

‘You make your way to the cashier and settle the account and I will whip round to the Federal Hotel and ask if I can borrow a beer barrel trolley. That should do the trick.’

Doreen handed over the seventeen shillings and sixpence and got a bill of sale in return. Not long after Lenny appeared with a trolley. He skilfully upended the Singer treadle sewing machine and balanced it on the trolley. Then with Doreen in her white gloves holding one side of the table for stability, the pair wheeled the load to the Anglican rectory. They were met at the front gate by a beaming Mrs. Joan Cannell. The Reverend Cannell appeared from the parsonage and quickly joined the group.

‘You got it then, my dear.’

‘Mr. Gaerth here did all the bidding and organised to wheel it home.’

‘Thank you, Mr. Gaerth.’

‘Lenny.’

‘Thank you, Lenny.’

‘How much did you pay, Doreen?’

‘Lenny made one bid of seventeen and six and we got it for that price.’

‘Well done! It looks to be a bargain buy.’

‘Let’s get it inside. Where would you like to set it up?’

‘In my room, daddy.’

Together Lenny Gaerth and Reverend Richard Cannell man-handled the Singer into Doreen’s room and positioned it according to her instructions. Lenny scanned the distinctly feminine room and his eyes lingered on Doreen’s bed for just a moment where a much loved teddy bear was propped up against the pillows. Then Joan Cannell announced.

‘You’ll stay for a late morning tea, Mr. Gaerth. It is the least we can do for all the help you have given our daughter.’

‘Thank you, Mrs. Cannell.’

Over freshly brewed tea served in an elegant china tea service and complemented with scones, strawberry jam, and cream, Lenny sat down with the Cannell family for the first time. It would not be the last.

Under close cross-examination by Richard Cannell, Lenny described his upbringing and education in Fremantle and his years of war service in Turkey and France. He reluctantly described his failure as a soldier settler in Margaret River and then explained how he had walked ninety-five miles to Collie and now had a position as an accountant at the Theodore Mining Company which was acquiring coal mining leases and planning to open the first coal mine in Collie in a few years’ time.

‘There is a lot of planning that goes into a new industry like this, and the infrastructure required takes time to get approvals and finally build. Mr. Theodore is working on a five-year plan.’

‘I know the owner there quite well. Dudley Theodore and his family are among our parishioners here at All Saints. He is a good man and his project in building worker’s cottages for the miners is innovative and forward thinking.’

‘I meet Mr. Theodore on a regular basis as part of my duties as his company’s accountant, but I can’t say I have got to know him all that well. When he interviewed me for my job I found it rather formal and a bit daunting.’

‘But you secured the position.’

‘I did.’

‘I think you will like him when you get to know him.’

‘Are you a regular