Ted Conner

 

Ted Connor

Seeing that photo of Ted Conner published in the ‘Albury Mob’ recently, brought back a few memories of the past for me.

Some photographer had obviously captured Ted shearing a sheep in a little demonstration.  I gather he was a gun shearer in his early days.  He most likely worked with Vic Casey who I am sure was a shearing contractor in the Albury district in Ted’s time.  I think, going by the photo, he may have been using machines on this occasion, rather than the blades. 

Ted worked on the Chaff Cutters when not shearing and spent time on the Threshing Mills. There were a few of those machines around in those early days.  Two operators I can think of, from the top of my head, were Bill Winter and Jeff Wood.

I was a school boy in Albury when I remember Ted.  I can recall him weaving his way back to his cottage, from Mrs. Gibson at the Albury pub on the odd occasion.  He must have been aged about 70 then I guess. I can recall him as always very polite, to me anyway, I used to walk past his cottage to school.

He lived in a little cottage he is said to have built by himself in behind Carl and Melba Rollinson’s. . I believe where he owned about five acres of land around there.  ‘Frying Pan Lodge’ one name the cottage went by.  I think another name was ‘Gin Palace’. ’If my memory is in order, part of his life, until he built his cottage in Albury, he lived on the Conner farm on Conner Road halfway between Albury and Cricklewood. 

 

From time to time when younger, he is said to have had a bit of a flutter with some of the young ladies in the district. His heart was set for one particular lady in the district, so the story goes.  He had popped the question to the young lady, and was doing well until he is said to have tripped and fell, half way around the course. 

To cut a long story short, Ted, so they tell me, bought the engagement ring to slide on the young ladies delicate finger.  As well as that precious ring, he is said to have purchased a new horse, which was a bit flighty.  Then he bought a high wheeled gig and a new suit of clothes.

Now, for a visit, he couldn’t take home to the farm, the family’s first intended daughter-in-law, without a bit of excitement,….or, could he?

To do the honors, it was a fine Sunday when Ted chose to take this young lady home for the introductions.  He was all for showing off his future wife.  

After a fine cup of tea, a couple of snorts of double malt, and a good old yarn, Ted and the intended, decided to take their leave.  Organizing that flighty horse between the gig shafts, they were all set to go. 

Ted was a bit of a show off and loved an audience.

He looked at his intended, with winning smile, he was going to demonstrate his prowess with a whip, and a horse, and gig. 

The passengers all set, Ted cracked his whip above the horses’ head, a universal signal he said, for the horse to get going. 

Like a scalded cat, that flighty horse with flashing hooves scooped four inches of shingle off the farm pathway as it took off down the track toward the Main Road.

Cardigan Bay, that famous racehorse, would never have stood a chance in a match up over a quarter mile. 

There was a tight bend halfway along the farm track, through a well cultivated patch of dozens of mature gooseberry bushes, fully laden with succulent fruit.

The gigs wheel hub swiped the gate post, leaving it behind at a drunken angle.  

Gig and passengers never made it round that bend in the track.  They say the gig, left the track on one wheel, behind the horse, with one back leg wrapped around the broken gig shaft.  As for those two passengers, the G-force had them pressed back into the leather seating.  The remains of Ted’s flash gig, had cut a neat swath through the gooseberry patch. 

They tell me the bride to be, climbed from the wreckage, her cute little hat dangling from one ear, while the ring headed for the dust some fifty yards to the east..

 What a shemozzle!!