David Walker.

Born 15 June, 1951 to Betty and Robert. The family, David, Kerry, Julie and parents lived at Hampstead Gardens. David attended Hampstead Primary and then Nailsworth ‘No Girls’ Tech.
Armed with his Intermediate certificate he applied for a Comp Apprenticeship, but to his disbelief was knocked back and started as a Print Minder Apprentice on 3 January, 1967.  
Confined to the basement Print Room soon David became a dirty, smelly popular member of staff but with a dark side that no-one knew about. David met Wendy Gibson and they were married on 14 January, 1972, soon the newlyweds were expecting their first child.
In the meantime David was hard at work down in the greaser pit at King William Road. For hobbies he took up part time soldiering and Archery. Making no secret that he wanted to get into supervision and keep his hands clean David soon became a leading hand.
It was as Night Shift supervisor that we start to see a different man emerge. A fun loving and wicked Dave Walker.
One night on shift, he together with Derry Lockwood managed (with the help of an air hose) to blow a 25 litre plastic container through the Netley Print Room ceiling. The rest of the shift was spent fixing the ballsup with a skinny printer balancing perilously on top of a forklift in an attempt to fix the ceiling ‘bits.’ 
Then just before he left the Old Guv at Netley (taking the separation package) David led a “greaser raiding party” up to Andrew Secker’s office and drank his entire beer fridge dry. Andrew’s reaction the next day was, “I hope you enjoyed yourself last night David.”
How did Dave meet Wendy Gibson. One night Dave took his then girlfriend along to a Hampstead Gardens dance. On arriving, this young lady walked off on David and started talking to a group of young blokes. David was not very impressed so went outside for some fresh air. Now along comes beautiful Wendy. They start to chat and decide to go for a stroll.
In the meantime the official girlfriend thinks “Where’s David?” She spots them in the distance and runs up to Wendy and says, “Bugger off, you bloody tart”. Wendy responded with, “I float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.” The rest is history…
Since retiring David’s hobbies include Bonsai plants, looking after grandchildren and voluntary work. He and Wendy have two boys Darren and Adam and four grandchildren.
David Walker liked by everyone (well almost) you are a Legend.

“Hello, I’m Esther Harris.”

My name is Esther Harris, but some of you old-timers would maybe know me as Esther Davis. 
I started work at the Netley complex in 1976. 
I used to catch the tram and then walk 500 miles to work, hoping to get picked up by a lucky person with a car. 
I started work in the Binding Room where I quickly gained a name for myself as a workplace hazard, so was moved to the reading room. 
I was there for about 4 years, along with David Clarke, Nick Penn, Bruce Gow Ian Ingham, Jack Flack and Colin Thomas reading epic titles such as Butterflies of South Australia and the Tasmanian Yearbook, and who could forget the Government Gazette?
I’m still waiting for the musical starring Ivan Merritt.
I was a casualty of new technology and made redundant by the Dictaphone. 
I then  spent a happy 12 months making tealess urns as a Tea Girl and sweeping up crap until it was decided to offload me to The State Information Centre at the Black Stump in town, where all the nutters and toilet stalkers ended up.
All day I gave out completely uneducated opinions on matters of State and Commonwealth legislation until I was expecting my first child Danny, also the offspring of Rodney Parham, our Head Cheese.
Whilst there I met Don Bradman (when he was alive), Big Bird Joel Garner (who I thought was a basketballer) and the strange Mr. Gordon Howie (Government Gazette Crazy and the scourge of the Adelaide City Council).
Since the subsequent birth of my daughter Candace, I have worked in the areas of mental health (result of former occupation most likely) drug and alcohol, homelessness, HIV/AIDS and alcohol brain injury. Currently I’m with Anglicare. 
Esther Harris (nee Davis).


“Lest We Forget” – George Bonney.

bonney_george_edward_lowresStudio portrait of 44 Private (Pte) George Edward Bonney, 32nd Battalion, of Unley, South Australia.
George Bonney was born on 23 August, 1876 at Unley.
He was the son of William Bonney and Eliza Powell.
George married Florence Connor on 24 January, 1900 in Adelaide.
Originally a Printing Machinist with the Government Printing Office in Adelaide, South Australia, Private Bonney at age 39 years enlisted in May 1915 and embarked for Europe on 18th November, 1915, with A company, 32nd Battalion.
Soon after arriving in France for service on the Western Front, Private Bonney became one of the first Australians killed during the horrific Battle of Fromelles in World War I when he was shot at Fleurbaix, soon after going over a parapet on 19th July, 1916.
He was buried at Fromelles in France.
Lest We Forget

Cyril Day.

Cyril Day operated Miehle 1. Each morning at 8 am Cyril would cut out his Innersoles for the day from strawboard.
Next job was to oil the press which was done by Cyril and an apprentice each doing NEAR side or OFF side of the press.
Miehle 1 was a smaller Model which could take Double Demy Formes.
Blocks of Photos for the Police Gazette were printed on this Press because it had a wet spray system to avoid set off. This spray was a sugary liquid which dried instantly as it was sprayed onto each sheet.
It was a hand fed flatbed machine. A skilled Operator could feed the machine at about 2000 sheets per hour.
It was also a machine which exposed the operator to abuse by fellow employees who could sneak under the feed table and scare shit out of the printer.
Cyril’s wife expected him home straight after work for tea. Because of this Cyril would ALWAYS go missing around 3:45 p.m. everyday!
“I’M OUT THE BACK,” he would shout to his apprentice.
Many times the Overseer would ask the Apprentice to sneak over to “The Strath” to ask Cyril to come back to set up the press for urgent Parliamentary work.
It was great working with Cyril he had started at the Government Printing Office when he was only 15 and it was unbelievable that he was once a “Shit Boy.”
He was a quietly spoken man who on his Retirement day at 65 was ONLY recognized for his Loyalty and Service by His Workmates. Typical.


Fred Howlett.

mettwurst-80Fred Howlett was a lovely bloke who wouldn’t hurt a fly!
He was also one of the most nervous blokes I’ve ever known. He was on long term medication for a severe nervous disorder and was also a heavy smoker.
At least every 10 minutes of his day, he would stop in mid track to loudly check that he had spare smokes and spare tablets. One day he did not bring his spare tablets in and Frank Johnson sent him home to get them.
Freddy was always annoyed that he couldn’t hear the bell on the goods lift ring at the other end and therefore had no proof that it was ringing.
There was only one bell press, so I assume it rang constantly on both the Jobbing and Comp. floors when it was meant only for the Bindery.
Geoff Clarke and I were a bit partial to a drop (or five) of Kaiser Stuhl, Family Port. Every so often, I’d load up the ex missus in the green Austin and take a Sunday afternoon to go up to the Barossa to load up on cheaper volumes of wine.
That was in the days when ‘cellar door’ sales really were a lot cheaper. I always got an order from Geoff on the Friday afternoon before heading off.
That day me and the ex had a nice picnic lunch in a park and a few wines to wash it all down.
We were coming back down through Nuriootpa and I was hanging out for a soft drink so stopped at Linke’s Bakery for a drink. Linke’s also made a very respectable metwurst and it was on sale in the bakery.
I pulled up behind an old (and familiar) original VW Beetle and spied Freddy on the footpath in front of the shop, about ¾ of the way through a full garlic metwurst.
I could smell it as soon as I got out of the car. I’m still not a big fan of garlic, so with a short ‘hiowyergoin’, left him to his task.
Monday morning, I asked him how he got on with the metwurst. “Mate, I was as sick as a dog on the way home and even during the night”. Fred didn’t smell too flash that day and I think Frank Johnson might have given him an early minute to go home and recover.

Wayne Brown.

The Mongrel was born in 1947, which was from then on known as the year of “The Foul Mouthed Mongrel”.
It was born in Ferryden Park just down the road from Toorak Gardens. Went to Croydon Primary and won many elephant stamps for elementary swearing.
Transferred to Christian Brothers College where he was forced to undergo the “the head down the toilet bowl” ritual many times.
Never popular with the priests because he told them where to go, he left after only a short stay.
Apprenticed to a Light Square Printer he was made a Binder because he got the lowest ever score in the IQ Test.
But he flourished as a “paper cutter” and joined the Government Printing Office in 1973.
His career as a “The Mongrel” really took off at Netley and soon bosses ran away from him and women refused to pick up things in front of him.
He was a Legend for all the wrong reasons. His hobbies included vigorous mixed basketball and watching his three little Catholic boys play sport.
He married a beautiful and talkative Catholic nurse and finally settled in South Plympton, not far from his “special” friend.
Started following Westies when they won the SANFL Grand final in 1983 then ditched them when Port Power went top.
He is therefore not a loyal person.
But it is his Gift to the English Language that has made him a Legend. He has enriched our Culture with some of the most poetical and colourful filthy Language imaginable.
“Mongrel” you are a Legend!