SUBURBAN RAILWAY MEMORIES

Sydney underground railway holds numerous mysteries. There are many little used tunnels both public and abandoned. Occasionally we'd explore the pedestrian tunnels which linked stations with shops and city streets. Wynyard Station, linked from several streets, could keep us occupied for many hours, and there was of course the wonderful donut shop on the ramp halfway between the main George Street entrance and the large concourse beneath Wynyard Park. For me though the most interesting mystery was not a tunnel but a man. A well-dressed, distinguished gentleman who wore a tweed sports jacket and carried a large book under his arm.

It was usual for me to catch the train to Bankstown from Wynyard during the 1960s after I'd spent Saturday morning exploring the toy, book and stationery shops in the city. Very rarely I'd do so on weekdays after work. It was on one such occasion that I came face to face with the subject gentleman. Before daylight saving became popular, the station platforms would be jammed wall to platform edge with bodies wanting to escape the city. It was usual for most people to attempt to ride a carriage which would allow one to alight next to the destination platform's steps. For Bankstown this was the second carriage from the front and so I was surprised to step onto an almost deserted car 2, while would be riders attempted to force their way into the cars either side, either directly or through the end exit doors of my car. I sat down next to a window and wondered at my luck. There were perhaps twenty others scattered around the car.

The station master blew his whistle and waved his flag, the guard rang his bell, and the subject of this article stood, opened his book, and began reading the history of "The House of Loder" in a loud but distinguished voice. I was to put it mildly taken aback, while the reaction of others in the carriage was either to leap up and to depart the carriage as fast as possible, or else to ignore him completely. The oratory went on until Central came into view. He then sat and opened a paper and gave no outward sign of his previous performance. I can picture him performing on stage to great acclaim. He departed the train at Belmore. Over the years I've wondered what became of the gentleman. Did he come from a theatrical family, perhaps? On another occasion I saw him strolling along the lower platform of Wynyard, book in hand, his voice ringing the length and breadth of the station.