My 1960's World

MY 1960’s WORLD
(in relation to the disappearance of the Beaumont Children)

I don’t remember …
I know from my early diary entries
and photographs viewed …
I know through media of the time y
(newspaper articles and radio broadcasts) …

In 1960 we occupied a Nissen hut in the Glenelg Migrant Hostel established for migrant families arriving from overseas 1949-1972.

The hut offered little privacy for the eight inhabitants. The clock kept time perfectly, but I lost time being subjected to neglect and sexual abuse at the hands of loved ones.

My 12-year-old sister (1961) supervised her five younger siblings while our parents worked full-time. We would walk two miles to the Glenelg Beach. Hot, sunburnt, painful bodies strolled home – and burnt, old skin peeled off in a week or so.

I attended the local primary school 1963 to 1966 and adored my Year 5 male teacher who was always there to encourage and support me in my desire to learn and instilled in me, my love of reading and to write.

My attempt at self-direction was discouraged and blocked at home. I felt comforted reading books and became totally entwined in the lives of the characters therein. There was so much love, unity and safety in each family unit. The personalities were real to me. This was the kind of family I desperately craved.

Aged eleven (1964) I crafted my first book ‘Autobiography of a Horse’.

My love of playing competitive tennis (1964) ended unexpectedly as my parents only paid for one season. My younger sister and I would practise tennis strokes with an Oliver ‘Bluebird’ wooden racquet on the carport wall. Opposite the carport, stood the corrugated iron shed.

I’m trying to remember … that image of the shed is so ominous …

A nod of the head from my abuser, with a lecherous look in his eyes, was given to me as a sign to go to that shed for his sexual pleasure. The silent radio sitting on the shelf did not hear my muffed cry for help.

The bathroom is probably the most vivid memory I have of that house. The wooden framed window open with no flyscreen or curtain, offered an unobstructed view for anyone lurking by the backyard Hills hoist. Total exposure. His demand to enter the bathroom was quiet – yet deafening to me. I felt alone and unprotected especially when the locked door opened for further sexual abuse.

To read or to study in the dining room was impossible so I retreated to my bedroom but this was made more difficult by my rising anxiety. I felt defeated by fear; listening for footsteps and repeating the words “keep walking – please keep walking …”

The disappearance of the Beaumont children from the Glenelg Beach was broadcast on
25 January 1966.

At times I wished I could disappear like the Beaumont children.

1967 I commenced studies at an Adelaide all girls college. I travelled by bus to the city and got off to walk approximately 1.5km and did not feel safe. I became more anxious due to the local, national and worldwide attention regarding the disappearance of the Beaumont children.

As a 13/14yo in 1967 I was playing for the local netball club’s intermediate and A grade women’s teams. I was ordered to abandon those teams and play for the college. My parents never escorted or supported their children at weekly sporting games. After a Saturday college netball match in Adelaide it was essential for me to catch an infrequent, late bus back home. I felt isolated and unsafe running 1.5kms home at sunset, as there were no houses along the main road; only open paddocks. The abduction of the Beaumont children was a constant reminder that those responsible were still at large and I feared I would become yet another vulnerable victim.

In 1968 another sister was accepted for registered nurse training at a rural district hospital. However, she became homesick and on one occasion was unable to travel home so it was arranged a ‘chosen’ family member would accompany the VW driver to visit her. As we travelled to the hospital the driver pulled over to repeat the sexual abuse – which was occurring routinely in the bedroom, bathroom, shed and behind the parked VW in the carport, at home.

The floor of the VW bus was cold and extremely hard.

My 1960’s world was cold and extremely hard.