I speak to a lot of people who have a lot of these stories all the time. The commonality with it all is that it’s a sense of belonging for them. They belong to something greater than themselves. There are many requests for scattering ashes, either on Punt Road Oval – which we can’t do because they burn the grass – but they’ll divot, they’ll have ceremonies. Since the oval’s been completed, there’ve probably been up to 14 occasions. They’re not all on the oval. They’ll go to the Jack Dyer statue which is out this side of the building. They’ll go on there with flowers, they’ll take photos, one had a Salvation Army pastor to conduct a ceremony on the farewell. That’s how passionate they are.
I’ve been a member of Richmond Football Club for almost 50 years. I’ve missed one game in the past 41 years. Doesn’t matter where it’s played. I started following the Tiges in 1964. Parents both followed footy but didn’t push me one way or the other. The first week at school two kids had Richmond jumpers on and that was it. Within a year I was cutting out every Richmond article in the paper. Getting the cornflakes to get the Richmond badge out of it and fighting with my brother and cornflakes going all over the kitchen floor.
I’ve been pretty full on involved with RFC – I got involved 27 years ago, in one of the supporter groups. I was involved with the membership department for a long time. Used to head up my own membership team at the MCG until six or seven years ago. Was involved in the inaugural historical committee, which we started in 1991. It’s been a long haul.
There are only two of us left from that inaugural one. When we finally got a space, which was the old cricket club boardroom, at the time the CEO was Jim Malone and he said, 'We’ve found this space, guys, would you like to do something?' We said, 'Fantastic.' Then we had to find a carpet layer who barracked for Richmond, an electrician who barracked for Richmond, I did some painting and whatever but we got there. It leaked and the rats got in but it was something. Everyone who came there loved it. That was the start of it.
Then with the Punt Rd redevelopment, the biggest redevelopment the ground’s ever had, we managed to secure this area here in the old Jack Dyer Stand. The stand’s just turned 100 years old so it’s the perfect place for a museum.
Richmond first played here at the Punt Road Oval in 1885. The RFC as we know it. There would’ve been more games here during the war, of course. The MCG was used for the soldiers and covered in tents. Grounds like Punt Rd, the old Junction Oval, used to be St Kilda’s home ground, was also used. There were even finals played on some of those away grounds as well during that time. Other teams like Melbourne did play games here. The cricket has always been here – it started off as the Richmond Cricket Club ground. There used to be tennis courts here, a long time ago.
There was a big tree out to the side there. In the early days, they used to get up there and start screaming, 'Eat ‘em alive.' I’ve even got part of that original tree here in the museum. It was pulled down 85-90 years ago. When they chopped it down – it was a massive big tree – and when they were building the king stand, which then became the social club building, they were doing the excavation, there was this perfect red gum stump there so they carved off a few bits of it.
We moved to the MCG in ’64. To raise a bit of money the club had go-cart races out here on the ground. Wouldn’t have done the ground much good because it was basically a swamp out there most of the year. It’s seen a lot of things: functions, weddings, funerals. It’s the whole gamut of people’s lives around Richmond.
I don't remember my first visit to Punt Rd Oval. My dad says he brought me here for a game of footy when I was three or four. I’ve got no real recollection of it. My main recollection is hopping off at Richmond Station, walking across, and along Brunton Ave there was some of the old turnstiles. On the corner of Punt Rd/Brunton Ave was the old bar areas. They were falling down, the blackberries were over them. Sometimes I’d come down and watch training and go exploring.
You get to the early ‘70s and Richmond was a powerhouse club. The steps up to the seats in the old Jack Dyer stand had rotted down. You couldn’t get up there. There were blackberries out the front. But geez you knew you were at the Richmond footy club. I can’t explain it – my arms are getting goosebumps – there was a buzz about the place: you were at Richmond. I can’t put it into words. You’re out there watching legends of the game training, the place was literally falling down. A couple of years later there was a fire and, rumour has it, one of the committee members set fire to it to get the insurance money. But it hasn’t been confirmed and I won’t mention his name.
My first memories are coming to a place that’s literally been let go and is falling down, because they’d moved to the MCG. So long as the grass was cut and the players could train, they were pretty much happy with that. I’ve lived through most of the changes and had a lot of involvement with a lot of them too. It’s been a good journey.
There were a lot of characters. A number of years ago before the Jack Dyer Stand was refurbished, I went up to the CEO of the time. I said, 'Can I have a look through the ceiling of the stand?' He said, 'That’s fine, come in one Sunday and have a look through.' Up in the changerooms there used to be a little trapdoor. So I climbed up and there’s all these mint condition beer cans from the 1960s. Turns out there were several players that used to get up there, hide from the coach, and basically get pissed. After the game and training nights.
Mal Brown was a character in himself, an interesting guy. He was champion in Perth, came across here in ’74, would’ve been a premiership player but he biffed somebody and got rubbed out. Mal thought, 'I’ll put Charlie on the spot.' Charlie was an elderly gentleman at this point and used to ride a pushbike. So Mal went and got Charlie’s pushbike and chained it to the front fence of the brothel. And photographed it. Poor old Charlie.
Around 1989-90 the club was in big trouble financially. We had an endangered species campaign over two years. And, at the time, Punt Rd was being widened. We came up with this idea, and it was one of the most successful fundraising ideas the club’s ever done. Let’s get the dirt, as they dug up what was the ground, let’s sell Tiger Turf. So we brought in 100,000 of these little jars. We all went down there for a couple of days and sat there for eight hours, putting dirt into jars, putting the cap on, wiping them down, then putting a label on them: Tiger Turf. And we raised tens of thousands of dollars. Just purely based on the love of the Punt Rd ground, from the supporters, they wanted their piece of Punt Rd. To this day, people will come into the museum and say, 'I’ve got my jar of Tiger Turf at home.' That’s what Richmond, Punt Rd is about. We’re here, purely because of the supporters, not the corporate people, it was the run-of-the-mill supporters that saved the club.
The most moving time of my life was that time, you’d have kids come down with a money box, 'This is all I’ve got but will it help save the club?'
There was a rumour that someone was buried out there, 60 or 70 years ago. But it probably is a rumour. The club did have its own cat, Moggy, for a long time. When Moggy died a few years ago there was a little ceremony and she was buried down in the goal square.
We’ve still got our home. We’ve never left. We’ve always been here. People come into the museum and they talk about Richmond, and it always gets back to Punt Rd. A lot of them live in Ringwood or Werribee now, but they talk about grandma who used to live in Richmond and that’s why the family follow Richmond.
If you go back 100 years it was Richmond and that was the suburb and everyone stuck together. There were various football teams in Richmond as well as the RFC. It was all about your suburb. You had picture theatres, the Richmond rowing club, you name it. It was all here.
In the old days it was a working class suburb. Richmond had their own brewery. There was the Heinz factory. It was an industrial area. Bootmakers and all that sort of thing. They were their own little group and they employed their own people. It really was like its own little country almost.
Personally, I’d cut Punt Rd off, because all roads should lead to the Richmond Football Club.
I started following Richmond in 1943. I’m 80 years of age now. 1943, I was a 10-year-old at school. A classmate said, 'Who do you barrack for?' I thought, oops... Richmond had just been premieres so I immediately said Richmond. A couple of other guys said Richmond. Whilst 1943 we’d won the premiership, this was post the premiership, I didn’t know I was going to wait another 24 years till we saluted again. But my friend, named Bruce, nominated Richmond as his club, and he lived nearby.
We then went to every Punt Rd game. I’m 11 at this stage. It was easy to get to Punt Rd on public transport – we lived in Caulfield. We’d get a tram that took us down to Acland St where the bus came straight to the ground. And, apart from two years when I played football, I missed three games only in 50 years. Of which, all those years post war, till we moved to the MCG, which was 20 years, I missed three games of footy, but only one of them was at Punt Rd.
So on the journey I saw every game at Punt Rd which was Saturday afternoon. Always. Every second week. No-one would have seen more games here, in that period. My origins started because of the ’43 premiership. In those 50 years where I did miss three games, I was appointed to various jobs here. One as a statistician. And in 25 years as a statistician I didn’t miss a game. Seconds, firsts or practice games, interstate, everywhere. So that accumulated nearly 1200 games without a miss officially. So my involvement as a statistician developed from my early interest. I’ve always kept details, stats and scrapbooks. So the club identified me, and appointed me club historian in 1986. Which is getting towards 30 years ago. And the origins of the museum and where we’re at now, and the history, had a bit of a starting point.
Initially when we started getting goodies coming in, the club announced that we now have a club historian, and we’d be happy to collect bits and pieces. We had many players say, 'Oh that’s good, I’ve got it in the garage or under the bed or when I go it’ll go with me.' So there was a couple of cubby holes in the old building. One was a disused toilet where we stacked boxes. Those places got filled. And I did give up a room at home. And in the end, before we got the museum, I could only sidle my way in and out of the room with boxes and bits and pieces.
The origins of our collections, or donations, really started when I was appointed, because there was someone official, recognised by our supporters, and the bits and pieces that have come since is a flow-on from knowing there is a resting place, where it can be shared, by supporters. The supporters love it. One of our famous guys, Jack Dyer, in our former museum, he spent nearly one day going down just one wall. Long before we had something established quite like this. Players love to see bits and pieces. You could have a player say, 'What do I got to do to get my jumper?' The answer is, 'Give us one.'
The beaut thing is we endeavoured to get a team photo of every year. When the team photos were taken, on that day there may have only been the 18 or 19 selected. Some would be in the seconds or injured. But the team photo wasn’t inclusive of the whole list for that year. We had footballers coming in, with grandsons, showing them the photo with grandpa in or dad and, oops, on the day of the photo… So what we did then we researched everyone who played in that year, we identified everyone in the photo, and they went way back. We also had underneath: ‘Also played’. So if grandpa was injured on that day, grandson wasn’t disappointed: 'You told me Grandpa you played for Richmond and you’re not in that photo.' So little things like that where former players are proud of it, proud to show off to their children, grandchildren, and the supporters. And even a lot of staff here now who don’t have Richmond origins but our history is here. We did have one group of management here said, 'We’ve got no interest in the history – it’s today or tomorrow.' But I’ve never seen a house or anything built that didn’t have a foundation. So we’ve got a good example here, back to 1885.
I can remember my first visit to Punt Road Oval in 1944. The bus pulled up out here and with a child’s member ticket you came in the grandstand area. And it had a smell: the ground was one-third quagmire type. You could see patches of green, patches that weren’t mud anyway. As you ran down the race you were straight away covered in mud. This was in the middle of winter. It had a smell of, a sour smell, like damp. Yet that was Punt Rd.
Down the end of the grandstand there was a bar area. We used to have halftime entertainment here, better than the halftime entertainment they had over there. There was one older fellow, I was young so everyone was older, he had a long coat on and a hat. At halftime he took it upon himself to enter the ground and protrude onto the ground. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He’d run out on the green bits, which wasn’t easy. And the ground would erupt, 'Here he is!' Then the police would come to chase him. This was like those Keystone Cops. The nearer they got to him, he’d slip and slide and they’d slip. And we used to look forward immensely to this fellow, you’d get a half the game start at the bar, so his courage was there.
I remember when the guy went round the ground with peanuts for thruppence a bag. At halfway he’d walk round. Say they had an end of season trip coming or a wedding, they used to march around with a big tarpaulin, say four people, one each corner. They’d march round the ground and you’d throw coins. If you were near the boundary, come this opportunity of the canvas collection thing, you’d get hit on the head with a 20c piece. So that was a bit of comedy and you’d see kids running round hoping that two shillings didn’t make it in.
It was just such a 'look forward' routine. You knew which bus you got on, every second week, and if it was Collingwood, Fitzroy, Carlton or St Kilda. There was a tram you could get. We went on trams to virtually every game. Saying I didn’t miss a game, that included their away games. Looking forward to this Saturday afternoon, growing through my adolescent years, right up until they moved.
As the bus gathered passengers on the way, you’d see these regulars get on in their Richmond regalia. I can still visualise this bus – it was a green bus – you nearly had the same seat. It was this Saturday ritual. It pulled up right out front the oval. You were there at the doorstep. The bus was just ideal.
I guess I liked the bus trip too. I was 11 initially. We used to get on a tram, then a bus that got us onto Acland St, so it was really two buses. My friend Bruce lived on the bus route. You’d nearly see the same people on the same bus. 11-years-old, your parents say you can go to the footy, it was safe to go in those days. You don’t probably think of any danger in those years.
On the way home, you did it in reverse. And most times it was a loss. But we always had Brownlow Medalists in that time. We always had some star players. Collectively we only made the finals in 1947. In 1947 we played the first semi-final against Fitzroy and got beaten. We didn’t play another final till ’67.
More often we lost than won, but we had some icon players who stood out. I remember sticking up for myself and Richmond: often the better of the two teams may not have played the best game. We’re a pretty rugged lot here. We had some wild men. We had a guy named Mopsey Fraser who was mad. The lovely individual thing about Mopsey Fraser, rightly named because all his hair went out curly, at the start of the match, he wet it, so he came out looking spivvy. And then all of a sudden, as the game progressed, it’d… Beautifully nicknamed, beautifully cartooned. He actually got reported in his football career to the point where he missed 83 games. Not all of them here – he went on to coach Port Melbourne.
What kept you interested back then: the personalities. We had another guy named Jeff Patterson. He became an entrepreneur, he rigged an Australian boxing title, he did everything that was a bit different. He drove big Cadillacs or something. He went into a hotel in Tassie. He was one of the first people to introduce overseas artists to this hotel in Tassie. Mopsey Fraser became a partner with him. On three occasions they stole their own safe and claimed the insurance.
To get into the footy ground, there was a plan adopted by young children. I didn’t do it but I did see them do it. Gather up a player as he’d be walking to come to the match, with a kit bag, every player had a kit bag. And they came by public transport the same as us, a lot of them. A lot of them lived around Richmond. So the plan was, and Charlie Calendar developed it, say to the player, 'Can I carry your bag?' And of course that got him in for nothing. And that was a thing you did back then.
There were holes round the fence you could climb through anyway. And I knew of them too. I can honestly say I never did. I always had a season ticket. But the kids that were short of thruppence, which was what it cost to get in. Charlie did that way, way back, this would be the ‘30s. As a result he was always round the rooms and he developed the role that they now call the Property Steward. Insomuch as he wheedled his way in and looked after the chewing gum. He was very thrifty, he cost the club little, because just using chewy as an example: he’d cut them in half and then if you wanted the other half you had to trade in the first bit.
Charlie was the inaugural because, when the interstate teams developed, they were annual games, Charlie got appointed as the Property Steward to travel with them. The other terrific thing about him, he was so ‘cartoonable’. He had an extended nose, he always rolled his own cigarettes, he could keep it in his mouth till it got right down to the burny bit, his chin nearly went up to his nose. I’m not trying to paint him as ugly – he just had the right face for the job.
The players had to bring their own socks and shorts and take it home. Charlie’s wife, for many years, washed the jumpers. He saved them money. He got all these interstate trips – some of this collection of goodies, some of the stories he could tell, his initiatives to get into the ground for nothing. He died, he got to about 80. In his later years they gave him a title of Property Adviser here. He was just so much of Richmond for 60 or 70 years.
I can remember Punt Rd, in the ‘60s, I would come with my father and Uncle Tom (not an uncle but a close friend). We would drive from Caulfield, up Punt Rd, to an area that’s between Swan St and down at the freeway. There was a big hotel down on the corner – it’s gone now. We’d park the car as near as we could to the pub because, in 1966, prior to that it was six o’clock closing. You could park on Punt Rd all day and we’d get on the other side, about equal distance to the ground, so we had to walk to the ground, but then we’d walk straight down to the pub.
The game would finish at around five o’clock. By the time we got to the hotel it’d be quarter past, we knew we had three-quarters of an hour, and our car was nearby. Often I can remember a bit before, this side street that’s up beside the pub, if you got here early enough, we could park the car there, and we had a car you couldn’t lock, it had a dickie seat in the back and the canvas. We’d park there conveniently. It’s a clearway now, you can’t get anywhere near it.
The lovely other thing here, Alice Wills is the only lady we’ve had as a life member of this club. She sadly died about a month ago. She ran a supporters club here – she ran this grandstand, the front six or eight roles, Alice controlled. This Uncle Tom, in the early ‘60s, I used to bring him in my car then. He was getting fragile in walking. We’d get a standing pozzie in front of the grandstand. And one day Alice Wills spotted me, who she knew reasonably well, not so much Uncle Tom. She said, 'Billy, your friend down there, he’s having difficulty standing down there all day, isn’t it? I’m going to ask all the ladies to move up one and Uncle Tom can come and sit up amongst all these ladies. There’s only one thing he’s got to do: every day we put in a shilling and vote on our best player.'
We had a player in the ‘60s, Paddy, whose dad also played for Richmond in the ’30s. I hear the yarns from Paddy who tells me yarns from his dad. Everyone who lived in Richmond barracked for Richmond. A lot of the players lived in Richmond. So two o’clock on Saturday Richmond moved from the residential, across Punt Rd, to the ground. And the rivalry, which is unique in the world, for a city where there used to be 12 teams, or 11 plus Geelong, to sustain a competition, with a population and a following, is world unique. If you cross Victoria St, from the Richmond location into Collingwood, well that was enemy territory. Every second Saturday afternoon, everything in Richmond stopped to attend the game.
I can remember Graham Richmond, who became a powerhouse here, back in the ‘60s towards the ‘70s, he started buying up homes in Richmond. They were rundown. He had a group of tradesmen doing them up. So the suburb started to change from these, not flash homes, and it’s one suburb from the city, it’s got transport everywhere. So it’s a tiptop bit of geography to develop. The content and the people changed, as the pioneers of the suburb moved away, their families moved away a bit. Demographics changed.
There were no seatbelts back then. Deaths were a thousand a year when there wasn’t that many cars on the road. The dopey thing we used to do… The fact that we could conveniently park not far from the game, not far from the pub, we had an hour between the game finish and six o’clock closing… You could almost walk along Punt Rd faster than you could drive along it. Even though they have widened it, it’s still this conduit between north and south. You’ve got to get over the river.
Courtesy of the State Library Victoria: www.slv.vic.gov.au
Aerial view of Richmond, Victoria, showing Punt Road oval in foreground.
Copyright status: This work is out of copyright.
I was born across the road in Easey Street, 83 years ago, lived here all my life. Collingwood used to be a working class suburb. I'm retired now. And I’m the caretaker at Victoria Park (the home of Collingwood Football Club).
Started working here around 1950. Used to be that someone had to die before you could get a seat in that stand. If you came to the football and I came to the football and I miss one Saturday, half the crowd would stand up and say, 'Where’s Bobby?' Because everyone knew everyone. Judges, lawyers, senior heart surgeons, once they walked through the gate, with their scarves and beanies on, everyone’s treated equal.
People said, 'I used to barrack for Collingwood.' No, you never. Once you’ve started barracking you never followed anyone else.
But the suburb’s changed, with all the trendies and people moving in. It’s an established area. I met some people in Easey Street, there was a fellow there, Hungarian he was. He bought a little place up the road, then he bought another little place next to it. Now he owns half of Easey Street. Nobody can imagine what he’s worth now.
Five hotels disappeared from Hoddle Street when the road was widened. There was one on the corner of our street, the Railway Hotel, it closed its doors on Christmas Eve 1972. The day my daughter was engaged. The Railway across the road, that closed up. The Town Hall Hotel further down. Sir Henry Locke was a pub on the corner there. They used to have Ladies Lounges. Women weren’t allowed to drink in the bar.
There used to be 33 hotels in Collingwood. One on nearly every corner. You couldn’t walk two blocks without a pub. Where all those new buildings are, used to be Yarra Falls. Knitting mills. Made suit material and stuff. The whole block they had. From near the river, around to Johnston Street, then down to the bridge, was Yarra Falls. So there was about two or three thousand people would storm out every night time and out into the pubs.
There used to be a blacksmith on the corner of Sackville Street here. And a Klein's chemist. The other corner was Sir Henry Locke Hotel.
As kids, we used to go and play under the Riley Street drain before the freeway. We used to walk up to Clifton Hill, up towards Carlton. A big open drain it was. We used to come home from school and play in the street. Till its time to come inside and have your tea at night. We used to go round to the local picture theatre and leave your front doors open at night, to let a cool breeze come through. Now you go inside and lock yourself in your own house. But it’s still the same suburb, just different people in it now.
I know a lot of people, they’d go home, if Collingwood got beat they wouldn’t eat.
Courtesy of the State Library Victoria: www.slv.vic.gov.au
Victoria Park, Collingwood.
Date(s): [ca. 1906]
Copyright status: This work is out of copyright.
That part of Melbourne, the Clifton Hill end of Hoddle Street, certainly brings back some good and bad memories. My wife, who was my girlfriend at the time, she and I went past Hoddle Street on the night of the shootings. Probably about 10 minutes before it happened. That’s a fairly sad thing for us.
But a happy memory is standing at the railway gates there and watching the Olympic torch run past in, I think, 2000. Other memories are going to the footy in Clifton Hill, but getting kicked off the train and having to catch the bus, because they were doing rail works.
Another sad thing: the day my son was born, when my wife went into labor, I was driving to work and there was a thing on the radio about someone had been knocked off their motorbike and killed down near the Pioneer cement factory down there. Near the Shell service station. That was the day my son was born. And the guy that got knocked off the motorbike was actually our next-door neighbour. So, some good memories and some terrible memories of Hoddle Street.
My family and I grew up on Punt Road (between Swan Street and the freeway) and our grandmother lived next door so we have many tales and memories:
* Milk was delivered by horse and cart through the 60s. The horse's name was Jedda and my sister and I used to try to wake up early so we could pat the horse. Mum would make us collect its droppings to use as manure!
* Mum used to send us to the yard to read the Nylex clock and then she'd reset every clock in the house to match (clocks weren't reliable back then).
* Back in those days you could actually cross Punt Road to get to the park with just a little care. Believe it or not we did this as kids, to go catching tadpoles in the Botanical Gardens.
* I remember hearing the roar of the crowd at the MCG on Grand Final day and, from our verandah, being able to see the crowds in the top stands. And of course seeing the fireworks every Moomba celebration.
* As a teenager I used to sell newspapers and lollies during the mad rush of the footy crowds through Richmond Station. How quickly we needed to tally the goods and dish out change before they raced off to catch their trains.
* The intersection of Punt Road and Swan Street used to flood in the 70s every time there was a downpour. Once, the high point of the water was at my mid-thigh level. It was so entertaining to watch passengers disembarking from the city tram (which could go no further), removing their shoes and rolling up their pants to wade to the other side.
* I remember countless car crashes as motorists tried to turn right into the Shell garage. It was tow truck driver heaven.
* My sister and I had a bedroom that looked out onto Punt Road – specifically the big park opposite Shell. The traffic hum (not quite noise) would let you know the time of day – and the weather. A swissshhh sound told you it was raining. Didn't want to get out of bed those days. I remember the headlights of the cars made a travelling ripple pattern at the top of the high walls in the bedroom. How they did remains a mystery to me.
Courtesy of the State Library Victoria: www.slv.vic.gov.au
Milk cart with horses on country road
Date(s): [ca. 1875-ca. 1938]
Creator: Harvey, John Henry 1855-1938 photographer.
Copyright status: This work is out of copyright
Punt Road is the divide between home territory and 'the park'. When my children were small it was almost a daily ritual to visit the playground, first crossing at the lights. Imagine the excitement of a little boy when roadworks were commenced to widen this very busy road. The playground was forgotten as we sat (yes, sat) and watched the big machinery go about their work. It wasn't long before I found it necessary to visit the library to research the names and functions of these wonderful 'beasts'.
Nowadays, we still cross Punt Road – to support our favourite team, the Tigers!
Immediately after WW2, as a boy living in Ivanhoe, I found myself barracking for Footscray in the VFL because an aunt lived there and was mad about her Saturday afternoon footy team, most of whom were local blokes. So I saw the great Ted Whitten play his first game of VFL for Footscray at the Punt Rd Oval, as it was then called – the home ground of Richmond. It was Round 1 in 1951 – he kicked a goal with his first kick and was later knocked out by a Tiger roughie. I saw most of his next 300 games.
Many years ago, probably in the 60s, I was waiting on Punt Rd at the Toorak Rd intersection facing north and soon to climb. The lights changed to green, I moved forwards, a parked car ahead of me shot out into my lane, I swung right and found a cop car beside me almost in the right hand gutter. He booked me, I went to court and got off with a warning. I kinda enjoyed the whole experience looking back.