To be absolutely precise, it was East Fremantle. I was one of 50,000 babies born at the Woodside Maternity Hospital in Dalgety Street, East Fremantle.
When I was growing up, a trip to Fremantle was called ‘going to town’. We rarely went to the city. Fremantle was where Mum gave me my first taste of hedonism – a Mars Bar, consumed with gusto upstairs at the Coles Cafetaria with a Choc Milk one day. Myer was in the heart of Fremantle. All of Queen Street and High Street were fully tenanted and there was no sign of the deserted shopfronts and the desolate hostility that would arrive early in the 21st century. Grandma and Pop were close by in White Gum Valley.
I haven’t strayed far, although I have lately wondered how I became a Tuart Hill kid, then a Bassendean kid, then a West Perth kid, and in between a Melbourne kid, all of my own choosing. I sort of know. Working in Belmont was partly why. Breaking away was another big part of it, but not so far that family was inaccessible. No, they had to be close.
The pull of Fremantle can’t be ignored. On carefree days, I find myself ambling about old haunts and doing other silly, essential, devotional things such as sharing news, joys and upsets graveside with Mum and Dad, driving past home, or stopping at East Fremantle oval where I had my first job: selling Football Budgets for the chain-smoking Harvey Bean.
Grandma and Pop always bought an issue from me. Inside the ground, they had their own little Thermos and deck chair spot just to the left side of the northern goal posts. I’ve made two recent visits, as many years apart. The first was just in time to capture the Merv Cowan stand in all its parochially named glory. Every old club of anything has a Merv. And a Vern. And a Cec, maybe. The entry gates were precisely as I recalled them from the age of 13 and 14.
On last month’s visit, time has caught up. The historical turnstile and ticketing buildings remain on the east and west sides, but the oval itself has been partially re-aligned. Merv’s stand has gone, replaced by a proper entry fee-worthy modern grandstand and multi-purpose community facility. There appears to be no barrier to enjoying a WAFL game at the oval nowadays. You would just walk in off the street and claim a little grass patch as desired. The grandstand is the ticketable item, I’m guessing. Outdoors, just behind where I sat barracking for the home team with Grandma and Pop, is a new modern bowling green.
It’s all good for the soul. A little old makes way for something new that respects the old. My heart went pit-a-pat.
