Published on Tuesday, 9 September 2025 at 12:57:28 PM
Happy #TimeWarpTuesday! This week we continue our ‘virtual exhibition’ of the entries from the 2025 Local History Awards. Continuing in the Personal Memoirs category.
Personal Memoirs
Walking The Gravel Roads, Home: A Recollection Of The 1940s and 50s Air of East Victoria Park
- A Story of Valmai Tilbrook as Dramatized by Renae Carey.
-Part Two-
I started school as 1st bubs in 1945. Bright eyes, little heart pounding and a jive.
My older brother had already started his education at East Victoria Park before Kent Street, further from the station.
East Victoria Park Primary School sat on land now occupied by the Park Centre.
I went to Edward Millen School, where grand old trees once cast their shade on laughter-filled schoolyard days.
The way it would sit amongst the streets where Patricia and the corner of Baille Avenue now meet.
A modest 2 classroom place, where a street around it was named after a woman of compassionate grace.
Ms Elizabeth Baille.
One of the very first in WA to gain recognition and respect. Her dedication and care earned her a place to protect: Rotunda Hospital.
Its name would become Edward Millen House next.
A pen and power to his name and the first minister for repatriation as his fame.
A politician, journalist and common name on the roads. The expansive namesake land on Albany highway, blocked from entering by the military we were told.
The thought of sneaking in never crossed my mind. I dare not be so bold.
An echo in history amongst the desk and the tools, Edward Millen School.
Whispers in the wind of days long ago, where I would walk those long, lonely streets alone from my house, and let my whimsy imagination flow.
After bubs, I was in 1st standard in 1946, as a well-behaved girl with no tricks.
Second year, I finished all my lessons as second standard in 1947.
I cannot remember much but Scripture as a session.
This building is now the Carson Street School.
PH00463-08 Girls of the 2nd Standard, Edward Millen School.
Local History Collection, Town of Victoria Park Library Service
Sliding through bigger shoes, I would pave a new path to prepare and head to East Victoria Park with care (and still a little wind in my hair).
Here I learned and grew to develop friends old and new; and felt like I belonged. But since it was a mile away, the journey would be long.
Looking down the end of Milford Street, a terminus was neat. This was located at the intersection of Shepperton Road and the Albany Highway beat.
It used to cost a penny each way, which was a small price to pay for the ride every day, but better than my feet.
A conductor always took it with a smile and certain times when I would have 2 half pennies, she would give them back to me and then show me down the aisle.
Where we got off was the end of the line, but sometimes the tram would go on to Welshpool Road just fine.
Picking up workers from the munitions – many places turned to cater to those conditions. Many converted for war.
The older I became, the more time spent playing pretend would slowly fade away. Those selling shops in broken cars, a distant game.
I found myself instead heading to Saturday afternoon matinee.
The wind followed me from the bush to Savoy, where giant curtains, carpeted floor and padded seats caught me in awe amongst the display.
They would have 3 versions on screen: a movie, a serial and a cartoon to gleam. My eyes would set aflame from the sheer magnitude and pull of the cinema sheen.
In days without my dad, I would thaw my heart out by the light and go to see what happens next by the silver screen.
The days where movies were something magic. Something to sink your candy teeth into.
A screening I enjoyed was Roy Rodgers, the King of the wild, wild West. He had a cowboy hat and a heart full of zest.
Sitting back in my chair I would spend hours watching Roy.
A lot of giggles as he rode through the plains with his gorgeous horse Trigger, under the Savoy.
The gable roof above, with acoustics of a song that sounds so sweet. His countless tales across the night, made my weeks complete.
Those same values of defending the weak and standing for what’s right, was ultimate what hooked me in every night.
His six-foot shooter ready to face any fight. Using all his might. My Saturday afternoon delight.
Around that time, another bold story of plains so wide with courage and justice by his side, and righteousness as his guide was Superman.
Two were starting to rattle the entertainment spheres and wooing fans: Kirk Alyn and George Reeves. Battling the supervillains and thieves, doing as they please.
Oh, how the movies were fun.
But the world outside of the theatre walls still had military work to be done.
PH00463-09 1st and 2nd Standard, Children of Edward Millen School
Local History Collection, Town of Victoria Park Library Service
PH00463-10 Faces of the 5th Standard, East Victoria Park
Donated by Renae Carey. Local History Collection, Town of Victoria Park Library Service.
Thrippens or 2 cents for an ice cream cone but there were still many places where we were not allowed to go.
Nighttime screened two movies at 6 pence to get in, but the insides of other buildings, were still a mystery we may never know.
That said, there was once a time where we were allowed to see but only if we took the shoes off our feet and were forbidden to speak.
It was where they made the bullets.
Pullets in the yard, places around changed as the war began to die down.
My father returned from the north with his leather jacket hanging up in the closest, still brown.
I would bring the wind in my hair and take to town.
The military buildings were becoming businesses such as Jason’s saucepans.
Chamberlain tractors were manufactured there, and Mr. Roach not only painted all his machinery orange but also his roof to add a little flair.
You could see it through the bush and for anyone living in a black and white world, it would give off a bit of a scare. Hard not to stare when it’s in the middle of a bushy landscape so bare.
A funny thing about the father of my friend, Mr Roach…
… He used to feed the magpies every day yet come summer the magpies would still approach.
(and not with a friendly presence I might add).
Speaking of beings sweeping these plains, a man could waltz upon Albany Highway one day as the sun shines brightly upon his face with the world at his feet and grass underneath his pleats, wondering what kind of buildings he would greet.
There were 2.
The first was a chemist occupying an old empty bakehouse encompassed by nothing but plant louse.
The owner, Max Nairn would stand at the front of his shop, rolling pebbles underneath his shoes, waiting for someone to talk to.
No queue to show and not many other places he could go.
This would eventually become a veggie shop.
On the other side, the one other building in the area at the time was Mr. Hendley’s butcher shop. A place my mother would always come to stop.
Mr. Hendley’s daughter painted Walt Disney characters on the wall, perhaps as a clever tactic to stall. Grabbed the attention of my eyeballs.
Despite trains available this whole time, the closest station was still too far for my legs.
From what I recall it was Welshpool station and what a fool I would have been to miss the chance to tram my way to greater sites for the day in place of adding a few extra miles to my pace!
Savoy was still a gorgeous place to see, but as I got older the neon lights were calling me.
A picture garden was built further down the road with deck chairs facing the screen.
Whilst it was an enticing experience as often as chance allowed, something about the city lights had to be seen and the kick in my heart to be there made me proud.
Ambassadors, Royal, Metro, Piccadilly and Grand were great competition to the cinemas of Victoria Park and together they left their mark by weaving the fabric of a fabulous time at the movies.
Another iconic landmark of the time that placed its bones there way before I did, was Broadway Theatre.
It opened further up the road with ‘Blackbird’ in 1927 and stayed pretty through the years.
So too did the Highway Drive-in in Bentley, where people watched with tears. Facing their fears under these changing ways to watch, back then we could see a movie without checking the clock.
These were amazing places to have fun and a great experience to take your daughter or son.
The gardens behind Broadway opened in 1948 and was a cozy place to take your date. They had deck chairs and a shop in the street selling ice cream which was great.
But the cream of the crop would shake their eyes afresh for good looking dancers at Canterbury Court then drop.
The 1950s saw the city come alive. So many places to dive into the nightlife and city night frights that kept us awake at night.
PH00463-12 Three generations at Milford Street
Donated by Renae Carey. Local History Collection, Town of Victoria Park Library Service.
I recall ballroom dancing every Tuesday night with my friend Pat from Briggs street, as we ended up making our debut together at Government House. But before all this, back in East Victoria Park I joined the scouts.
1st Carlisle with Kat whose father was burnt by a bomb assumingly in combat. His name was Ralph Thompson, an Anglican minister for a church near Queens Park.
The difference between Anglicans and Baptists in Scripture was quite stark.
As I gradually took over the cubs, the veranda of the primary school is where we would meet.
This eventually shifted to the old Scout Hall in Kensington, the corner of Berrick and Rathay Street.
Occupied today by the Victoria Park Scout Group, the poor-lit tree lined lanes would throw me for a loop. To this day, I keep well at bay and from the heavy feeling down that street, I stay away.
Another girl from the Guides was Sheila Green.
She lived in East Victoria Park and her father was Reverand Hurst whom the boys would often see as cool as he read about War as part of Scripture at Edward Millen School.
He used to be so thin, the white collar around his neck would spin. His church that sung the hymns was where my parents wanted to get married in.
10 years I spent with the Guides. Could have been a Captain but I subside. Instead, I kept fighting for them to stay alive by fundraisers for bigger halls with ambition in my eyes.
My brother was christened congregational, but I wasn’t baptised at all. There could be an interesting reason as to this withdrawal…
I was born a Pea Soup with Dumplings.
My mother would ride the tram to see her mother, where pea soup and dumplings had her swayed. The station master one day noticed the weight gain she displayed.
A flutter in her mind left the field – she didn’t know she was pregnant with me so she would reply to the station master with glee, “it’s the pea soup with dumplings my mother keeps feeding me!”.
The station master would joke “I’ve never heard of a pea soup baby!” and my mother would laugh at this… maybe.
A glorious girl she was.
In the mid-1950s, as a teen, the wind was still blowing but this time as an ocean breeze.
My brother and I would go to an apple cart, put our bags under the shoot, grab some granny smith apples to boot and head back down the trail.
Up in the trees we would look to see Carnabys and all sorts of tails.
Little feathered friends like Rainbow Bee-Eaters, Yellow-tailed Black Cockatoos and others in the pond having a cleanse and a wail.
I couldn’t wait to clear my skin and head to the beach where water went up to our chins.
We went on these trips with our neighbours from East Victoria Park and Mount Lawley; visiting some of the foreshores around town such as places out at Crawley.
We would go to Kelmscott too, with a picnic in the bush and walking all the way to Armadale, but more accurately a push. Some of the distances weren’t very close but lucky with the trams, I didn’t have to drag my little tush.
Rockingham was another place we tried, especially Point Peron. But when the Military would stop and turn us back, we had learnt the lesson: A holiday in a hellscape is better to leave for caisson.
Kwinana was the next interesting place, where the tides between the shore and shipwreck Ray was excited to face. A ship had caught fire in 1920 and became the town’s namesake so Ray and his best friend were keen to explore its fate.
What fuelled the journeys were coupons and china wrapped in tea towels, carried to places like South Beach and Point Walter where we would sit by the river and eat there for hours.
PH00463-14 Preparing for studio portraits, Milford Street
Donated by Renae Carey. Local History Collection, Town of Victoria Park Library Service.
From the days camping on the lawn, back at home things were starting to develop as businesses and other commercial interests enveloped Albany Highway.
The following years after my marriage to Roy Tilbrook in 1960, I left Milford Street.
The memories of 1960s onwards were visiting my mother Hilda nee Taylor who still lived at the same address with changing landscapes of the time. But as I keep these amusing insights for another day, there is something left I have to say…
As my memories of the 1940s and the 1950s of East Vic Park start to close, I will mention a few places that I know:
Fish and chip shops near the theatre, opposite Balmoral;
A hairdressers with whom the women wore florals.
Another fish and chip shop the opposite end;
The Butchers and Houghton’s Garage for the men.
A Green Grocer’s down on Boundary Road;
Bladden’s Doctors Surgery where Martin’s Army Uniform showed.
Wormhills factory – fire alarms;
Bushes for miles that I suspect were farms.
Horses yards, car yards, bakeries too;
Boomerang Hotel I once knew.
These places amongst many sit on ancient land as the fibre of all the faces that made up the Town of Victoria Park.
A place that’s got a spark.
A space teaming with adventure, soul, a commercial pulse, historic bones and wind you want to flick through your hair.
Victoria Park is a smiling grin with gravel stone roads paved now with bitumen.
The cement carries cart loads of all the stories like mine and others yet to be told;
Of people brave and bold.
This was my Victoria Park.
A place that will always have a special stretch of road in my heart.
-End of Part Two (Final)-
Note:
This entry is a dramatized account of Valmai Tilbrook’s time in East Victoria Park as written by Renae Carey.
Valmai Tilbrook nee Bruce, known affectionally as “Val or Mrs Tilly” was born to Robert Alexander Bruce and Hilda nee Taylor. Her parents were dairy farmers associated with the Douglas family by marriage and the Manning family, whom they lived and worked with for many years. She would marry farmer Roy Tilbrook, whom she would go on to share a 60-year union before his sudden passing from a car accident that also claimed their youngest son. Today, Val lives in Mukinbudin where she retired with Roy. They have 1 daughter and another surviving son.
Be sure to check back next week as we feature another one of all our great entries into the Local History Awards.
Don’t forget we are always happy to accept donations of photographs, memorabilia and stories about the suburbs within our Town. Don’t hesitate to get in touch with us via telephone: 08 9373 5500, email: vicparklibrary@vicpark.wa.gov.au or in person at 27 Sussex Street, East Victoria Park.
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If you missed Part One of Renae's entry please click here.
Download a copy of this edition to keep here.
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