Town Talk | From a swamp to the lake

By Marnie

Apr 3, 2023

Glistening jewel: The lake as it stands today, with the Shepparton Art Museum on its banks. Photo by Rodney Braithwaite

Hello everyone and welcome back.

This week I’ve been thinking about our lake and the people who had a dream.

Our lake — and how we’ve loved it

Surely, one of the most important things our people of the past did for us was creating our lake — from an ugly swamp.

An article in the News (1928) said the swamp was “complete with dead red gums, the gaunt trees and limbs of which are symbols of desolation and as bad an advertisement for Shepparton as can well be imagined”.

The people were enthusiastic and had raised more than a thousand pounds to fund the endeavour. However, it was far from easy; some of the tree trunks were more than 5ft (153cm) in diameter. The experts said they could never burn waterlogged trees and they would have to be blown up, but an attempt with explosives failed dismally. Then one day, two frustrated councillors (Messrs Goyen and Riordan) were inspecting the area — and one threw a handful of dry grass into a tree and lit it. They proved the experts wrong; the tree burnt, taking two others with it.

When the area was cleared, the northern bank was built, and we had a lake for the first time — October 3, 1929.

Well into the 1930s, citizens continued to raise funds for improvements and one of those fundraisers has gone down in our history. It was the ‘Grand Fireworks Display’ and, because I’ve told this story before, I’ll keep it short.

The fireworks (sky rockets and Roman candles) arrived in town, along with the expert — who found the day long and hot, and fortified himself with a few drinks.

When showtime arrived, he was found intoxicated and asleep under a tree. The chairman of the committee involved, and the town clerk, decided they would handle the fireworks. How hard could it be? They put a chap into a row boat with the Roman candles and began firing rockets.

Clear thinking: John Pick on the Shepparton lake bed in 1929.

The first landed in the nearby Texaco (later Caltex) petrol depot. Another landed on the front verandah of a house opposite — disturbing the evening for a man and his frightened wife.

Rockets shot in all directions, although Charlie (in the row boat and as instructed) was peacefully lighting a Roman candle after each rocket failure. Until a rocket hit Charlie’s boat, sending the last of the candles into the lake.

The fundraiser was called off but, it was reported, the audience attending said the show was thoroughly entertaining and well worth the money!

My note: I love this last bit. It is so very Australian — is it not? — to thoroughly enjoy a debacle. I can imagine cheers every time a rocket went astray.

Over the decades, our lake continued to improve, and Victoria Park became a wonderful place for a picnic.

When a part of the lake became the Raymond West swimming pool, it was the centre of many lives, over many hot summers.

After riding home from school, I was permitted to go swimming with my friends — provided I was home safe and sound before my parents returned from work. This meant that my mother didn’t have to worry about me drowning (although, at that stage of my life, I was quite a strong swimmer!).

Long summer days: Raymond West swimming pool in Shepparton.

But school didn’t finish until 4pm in those days and the ride home meant it was after 4.30pm before I got back to the pool. At some point, my dad intervened, saying “fair is fair — she’s barely getting wet”. It was a bit more relaxing after that.

We frequently did the ‘long swim’ from the grassy end to the ‘Olympic pool’ end. Other times, we dived or jumped or just enjoyed the water. Yes! We all knew it wasn’t as clean as it could be, but nobody cared. It was just so much fun because it offered so many options.

I remember seeing Tom Hafey and the Shepparton players there; several times, in fact. The players would swim and exercise — then have a picnic on the sandy beach.

Given that it wasn’t clean enough and nothing could be done to keep it clean, inevitably it had to change. I doubt though there was ever a pool anywhere that was as loved, appreciated, enjoyed — and mourned — as much as the Raymond West.

Today, our lake is different but still beautiful. As we drive past, and take it for granted, perhaps we could give a thought to the Sheppartonians of the 1920s who saw dead trees and imagined something better. They dared to dream.

The power of our retail sector

There was a time when Shepparton’s shopping centre brought people from all directions — from Deniliquin down to Broadford and from Wangaratta across to Kyabram.

I remember a conversation I had with customers from Broadford, asking why they preferred us to the capital city. They said it was convenient shopping; if they couldn’t find what they wanted in one store, another was close by.

They said the shopkeepers and staff were warm and welcoming and that, in truth, they preferred the honesty of country people.

On a regular basis, the customers came in bus loads — and they were really good days for the businesses. In fact, in Maude St, there was a hand signal (used by proprietors) to tell neighbouring stores that there was a bus in town. These were people who had ‘saved up’ to spend with us.

And then, well before online shopping, it all started to change.

The first report we heard was that the streets weren’t as clean as in the past. The next was that the people, in the shops, weren’t offering the same outstanding customer service. Whatever the reason, the buses were now going to Albury.

Then, around 10 years ago, I was told this story.

Lois and Bob say farewell

Lois and Bob lived in Melbourne but every summer, they came to Shepp for a week. They liked the convenience of the CBD; very much enjoyed the coffee shops and restaurants — and loved trying out as many as possible. After dinner they might visit one of the clubs or go to the cinema. They also enjoyed a walk in the evening.

Their visits went on for some years and local people had got to know and welcome them. Then, one year, as they checked out of their accommodation, the lady assisting them said: “We’ll see you next year.” The reply was: “No! We won’t be coming back. It’s not the same.” Of course, the receptionist at the motel asked why — and was told this:

“Everyone in the shops seems so depressed. I don’t know why it has changed, but it has. In one shop I asked if they had a sale on — because most of the shops were having their summer sales…”

Now, you and I would know how to respond to this — it doesn’t take a Rhodes scholar. She could — and should — have said something like this. “No, our sale is a bit later this year but, please, have a look around and — if you find something you like — I’ll make sure it’s on sale (with a smile, of course!).” However, this was the response:

“Sale! I can’t have a sale! I can’t pay the rent now.”

We can’t know what was going on in this woman’s life but it certainly wasn’t her customer’s problem. She was the last straw, in a city that had forgotten how to welcome people.

I heard this story from the motel receptionist, a couple of weeks later. It still upsets me today.

Customer service

And all of this is one of the reasons why I hammer on about customer service — and why I write of businesses you tell me about, or where I have had good experiences myself. It is vitally important to our city. We can bring people here to see our gallery and museums, but we need to give them as many reasons as possible to return — or to tell others about us. We must be exceptional.

It is vital that we offer the warmth and welcome of our green valley. So much depends on it.

If you’ve received really good service, in Shepparton or Mooroopna, please let me know; in fact, we are considering running a competition to highlight the importance of it. We just need to figure out how to keep it fair for everyone.