Memories of their father delivered on Tuesday 10 September 2024 by his sons Peter and Donald Barrie, at the funeral service held at the hall in Willowie which serves in place of the old church. From the hall the funeral procession went to the cemetery which is a mile or two out of the town and there a brief graveside service was also held.

Eulogy of Robert A. Barrie (1912-2002)
delivered by his son Peter

Robert was born in Wilmington on the 28th of February 1912 to Robert Barrie jnr and Alice Matilda. Whilst eldest sister Jean and youngest brother Kevin are no longer with us, his younger brother Jack is here today to celebrate his life. Not much is known of his early childhood days, but Dad always said that his mother never got cross with him. The only trouble he admitted to in his childhood was when he and Jack burrowed though a hay stack his father had only just finished building.

Robert attended Willowie Primary School until he received his qualifying certificate, then as times were tough, he returned home, and went to work to help make ends meet. His first job was with Bert Pitchers, a neighbour, and his pay for the first week was a ruptured ram, the second an ill fitting pair of boots and the third, clothing of the same nature. As dad said the whole community was in trouble because it was the Depression, so perhaps this was fair. Shearing when he first tried his hand at it was one pound per hundred, you had to pick your own wool and sharpen your own shears. When Dad bought his first tractor he used to work the horse team by day, then hang a paddy’s lantern on the crank handle of the tractor, and continue the paddock work by night. Dad always said that driving the horse team was enjoyable, but hard work. He used to pride himself in having his team in the paddock ready to start at daylight, and then they had to be fed, watered and rubbed down at night when the days work was finished. I am sure these long hours at either side of daylight made farming a tough job.

Bob enjoyed riding motor bikes, particularly his Harley Davidson “Pup”. This, we feel, was where he developed his “need for speed” which he carried through all his life. Dad always had an eye for the ‘fairer’ sex, and a story related to me told of a trip in the Buck Board to a Hammond dance, Bob was driving with the ladies in the front and the boys on the back. Apparently the company in the front was so distracting, that instead of taking the ‘dog leg’ in the Amyton Creek, Dad took the initiative in demonstrating the ease of a straight through crossing. Fortunately, there was no harm done.

When the Second World War broke out, he wrote to the Air Force to enlist, but was told they were not ready to take on volunteers, but suggested he join the Army as they needed men. He enlisted on July 3rd 1940, driving down to Adelaide with Keith Stone, Jack Mountford, Doug Llewelyn, and one of the Coad lads from Melrose. He joined the 2/48th and they were sent to the Middle East where he became one of the “Rats of Tobruk” and participated in the Battle of El Alamein. Accommodation was a Foxhole, and 2 litres of water was a days ration. The division was then sent back to Australia because of the Japanese threat in New Guinea. They retrained in the jungles of the Atherton Tablelands and were sent to Milne Bay, then on to Sattelberg, where he contracted Malaria. He was eventually sent back to Australia, and discharged on compassionate grounds as his father had died. During his 4 years in the army, Bob attained the rank of Sargent. Dad was a Sunday School Teacher before he went away to the war, and didn’t drink or smoke. During his time in the army he gave away his cigarette and beer rations, so I guess that made him fairly popular with some of his mates.

He had married Marjorie during leave after the Middle East Campaign and before leaving for New Guinea, and they then chose to come back to Willowie to a small debt ridden farm, determined to succeed after the horror of war. Many long hours were spent on an open air tractor driven in dust and cold to achieve success. His great joy was in his Poll Hereford cattle, and he maintained his merino flock with the regular purchase of a stud ram at the Royal Adelaide Show.

His three sons, Robert, Peter and Donald grew up on the farm and attended Willowie Primary School until completing their education in Adelaide. In latter years Bob has enjoyed an active association with his grandchildren, Matthew, Kirsten, Annette and Susan, and amongst other things, teaching them to drive on the back roads around the farm.

Dad was very community minded and proud of Willowie and its people. He played tennis for Willowie until nearly 60 years of age. He then took up Bowls in Orroroo, which eventually became his life, and many games were enjoyed with his contemporaries, some of whom are unfortunately no longer with us. He loved playing golf at Willowie, and he and Harry Carn were regulars on a Saturday afternoon for the “hit” and social get together out here, but eventually the trip out from Orroroo became too arduous for both of them. One of his great joys was when the Willowie “B” Grade Football Team was formed. Perhaps Willowie has the distinction of being the only oval that was top-dressed with creek gravel to improve its surface. Certainly Dad and his contemporaries had some novel ideas and ways of meeting the challenges.

He was instrumental in forming the Willowie Community Co-op Society Ltd shop which served the Community for many years. He was on the Wilmington District Council for 14 years and also served as Deputy Chairman. He had a great passion for the Masonic Lodges, and participated in the three which operated in Orroroo over the years, receiving his 50 year medal for one.

His great joy was gardening in a hostile environment – particularly growing roses – not an easy task on the Willowie plain, but when it rained, Bob would be seen out in the garden, dressed in his old army great coat, equipped with a long handled shovel, digging trenches and banks to redirect the water onto various bits of his garden. Marjorie was often heard to tell him that he was a silly fellow for being out in the rain, (usually in stronger terms!) but he would continue doing what he loved the most. Dad also enjoyed digging out rabbit burrows with the long handled shovel and a grubber, and was forever sticking his hand in the hole to grab the rabbit out. A couple of times I saw him get a nasty surprise when a snake shot out instead!

One of his other passions was fishing, and he and Lionel Probert regularly went out to the Pt Broughton Light to catch a feed of Whiting. They had this great habit of dangling their legs over the back of the boat, in the water and talking. One day, whilst doing this, we saw a rapid movement, and a large shark was chasing a fish that was being reeled in. Four legs have never moved quicker, and that practice of keeping cool by dangling legs over the back of the boat promptly ceased! Dad tells of another fishing expedition in New Guinea during the war, when they used to supplement their rations with fish caught by chucking a Mills Bomb into the sea and then grabbing the fish as they came to the surface. As Dad said, he was one of the poorer and slower swimmers, so invariably had to get the furtherest fish. However on one occasion a triangular fin appeared and he reckoned he virtually walked on water to get back to shore!

In his latter years, Dad particularly enjoyed nothing better than taking his beloved kelpie, “Red” and moving a mob of sheep. This was made particularly more enjoyable if one of the neighbours pulled up for a “pitch”. He also believed that moving sheep was a great way to learn his Lodge parts, and often utilised this job to that end.

Dad was never idle, and was always physically doing something – he enjoyed fixing fences, and digging post holes by hand was a challenge he enjoyed. I believe he thought my generation were soft when we used a post hole digger rather than a bar and shovel.

His attitude towards droughts such as we are currently facing, was it was a humbling experience, and he always believed that it stopped Willowie people from getting above themselves. He always had faith in the Willowie District, and felt that persistence would eventually lead to success.

There are many people that he would want me to thank and I will probably not adequately do that, but, the carers who assisted my mother and father to maintain an independent life in their own home up until the last couple of weeks of Dad’s life are very special. Also, Dorrie Kurtzer and Marie Barton have been visiting them for many years and assisting them, and have our special thanks. I am sure he will continue to have bets with Dorrie about the rain, but he will now have inside information.

Dad’s life can be best summarised by an enquiry to me by “Digger” Gibb, “How is Gentleman Bob?” That is what I think best portrayed Dad.

Thank you for a great mateship and thank you to the Willowie Community for helping us celebrate Bob’s life.

Peter Barrie

Memories of his father by Robert’s youngest son Donald Barrie

I would like to try and give you a few snapshots of the many treasured memories I have of my father over the many years of his long life after I was born.

In my childhood days here in Willowie one of my first memories is of him laying the Foundation Stone of this very Hall. This typified his very active role in almost anything to do with Willowie. He was involved with many committees such as the Community Store, the Hall and various Sporting Clubs: anything Willowie was always very dear to his heart. I remember his tennis days, playing for one of the Willowie Teams in the searing heat at Eurelia, or Johnburgh, or Morchard or Orroroo – Quorn or Hammond, with his elaborate double or triple rotation of his racquet as he studiously looked at where he hoped to serve his next ace. I remember his joy when the Willowie Football Club was revived, the Willowie Oval was resurrected and the Gold and Blacks took to the field. We three brothers all played at some stage for varying amounts of time for the team. I remember him having to sooth the rattled nerves of the Team’s most one-eyed ardent supporter – my mother on more than one occasion!

The Orroroo Lodges, Red, Blue, and Gold, were all a large part of his life for most of his adult days until he could no longer physically attend. Dressed in his newly starched white shirt and black tails was a complete contrast to the working clothes of the daytime. The Lodge Balls were the Social event of the year for both he and Mum. There were also the Willowie Balls, Dances and Strawberry Fetes where after almost everyone else had gone, he and Mum would stay behind and out in the Supper Room, the Eskies would appear and Minchinbury Champagne or Great Western Sparkling Burgundy would surface and be shared with the likes of Dean and Jean Foulis, Uncle Lance and Aunt Joan Wood, and the Vines. He was saddened by the inevitable closure of many of the Willowie facilities and institutions as the years passed and the population dwindled, especially the store, the post office, the school, the church and sporting clubs.

Farming and grazing involved long hours and plenty of physical work. The horse drawn machines were before my time, but I heard the stories about the teams of horses he used to work with and the sparrow and pigeon pies and the bread and pullit that he used to live on in his younger days. My memory is of the open top tractors, especially the Massey Harris, the latest and greatest, and easier to start than the Marshall. He had two, and at seeding and harvest times was often known to stay out on one all night.

He used to take us to see all the sheep and cattle and driving on the roads meant stopping to talk to the passing neighbours for often a half hour or more: to Joe Hitch (boy! – could he talk!) and Max Hitch, to Les Mills, Uncle Cliff Stone and old Uncle Bill Stone, and to Cyril and Lyn Gum and Ned Lock, Many Foulis, Stan and Duncan McCallum, Norm McCallum, to Ian Kumnick (who used to work for him), to George Jamieson, George and Ross Reddaway, Lindsay McCallum, Col Woolford, Travis, Dean and Rob Hughes (Rob used to work for him too) and many others. It also meant shooting the odd kangaroo or two for pet food and as many rabbits and foxes as possible. Many was the time we went spotlighting in search of the cunning fox mauling the new born lambs. He always carried his trusty guns in the Ute, the ancient double barrelled four hundred and ten gauge shot gun manufactured in Belgium a very long time ago that had 2 triggers that you pulled back with your thumb to cock, and the single shot 22 gauge rifle with the sights that were never quite right. You had to get very close to the wild life to have any chance of success, the prey always had a good chance of escaping. Often the cartridges or bullets would not discharge if the ammunition was old or water affected. Licence ?? Who needed a gun licence!

He faithfully tended to cleaning the Water troughs up until the last few years and carried in the back of the Ute or Land Cruiser the essential farmer’s tools, his trusty dog, Tex, Nigger, Red and others, the grubber for rooting out the Bathurst Burrs, Boxthorns, Horehound and Onion Weed, the bucket and the broom for cleaning out the troughs, and the pliers and wire strainer for fixing broken wires in fences. In the glove box was the half broken rain gauge measuring glass for measuring the rain at all the different paddocks where he had rain gauges placed. With pick, shovel and wheelbarrow he personally dug the large cellar in the new home that he had built in the mid 50s which he had promised my Mum when he married her. He liked to be always as physically active as possible, his energy went into gardening and chopping wood in his spare time until very recent days.

Holidays were always at Fisherman’s Bay in January after harvest and during the long school summer vacation. I remember so well his first motor boat with the inboard engine that would chug along at no more than 4 knots and take us an hour plus to get out to, or past The Wreck where all the good fishing spots were. He never wasted the Trumpeters, otherwise known as Shitties that we caught – he ate them even if the rest of us did not like them. Fortunately for the rest of us we usually got some whiting as well. On the way home from the beach we would often call in at Great Aunt Mat’s house at Crystal Brook for a drink and be given fresh passion fruit, and then we would stop at the Roadhouse on the edge of the town for a sit down meal, a real highlight of the holiday. Further on the way home at Laura we often called on Uncle Jack and Aunt Ruth and were given lots of fruit from his wonderful garden.

Having lived through the depression and many droughts and WWII, he never wasted anything – he never threw anything out as he said you never know when it might be useful. The sheds were full of old machinery, sulkies, buggies and drays, and furniture and vehicles. I remember the trips to Adelaide to see his Mum [Alice] and Aunt Jean Lloyd – on the mainly unsealed roads when the engine in the Ford V8 Pilot or in the Ford Mainline Ute would boil as you went up the hill at Undalya, a few miles south of Auburn, or the hills near Gulnare when he had probably been going a 100 miles an hour on the flat, and then the enforced stop and the silent and not so silent cursing that would go on, until we got going again. Perhaps the one great self indulgence that he ever took was to buy the huge, beautiful, luxury, 2 tone green Ford Fairlane 500 V8. His great friend Lionel Probert from Pro Motors did not have to use pressure selling tactics to make him buy it, for he and the rest of the family immediately fell in love with it. And yet it was not such an indulgence for it had a very large boot which was necessary to get the luggage of us, his sons to and from Boarding School in Adelaide. It was always his aim to give us the education that was never available to him and we are all forever grateful for that. He was always loyal to the brands Ford and Mobil – and “Willowie”.

In 1978 he suffered from a broken vertebra in the neck after a bull charged him. 2 weeks later, the first time he was allowed out of bed, he suffered a massive blood clot on the lungs and was very lucky to survive. Having been transferred by ambulance to the Royal Adelaide Hospital, he woke up the next day, not being sure of what had happened to him. He slowly recovered. The next 24 years of his life were a surely a bonus after that incident, however I guess he had several other narrow escapes as well having suffered recurrent malaria, severe pneumonia and a very nasty appendix episode.

Although he never talked much about the War years, he felt it his duty to march on Anzac day and rarely missed them. Many was the time we watched him march and then I would collect him and his fellow 2/48th long time friend Henry Slater, head off to Pauls Fish Café for his favourite food, fried whiting, and thence to Victoria Park for the Race meeting, come rain, hail or shine.

In latter years he and Mum retired into Orroroo, the town that had increasingly become more important to them as facilities at Willowie waned and as trips to the doctor became more necessary and frequent.

Always a keen sportsman, he played bowls in Orroroo and golf here at Willowie up until it was physically impossible for him so to do, by then he was in his late eighties. He always played to win and got disgusted with himself if he had played badly or let the team down.

Increasingly frail, he was surrounded by close relatives in Orroroo for his 90th birthday earlier this year, and then just over three weeks ago they moved into the Orroroo Community Home, where with Mum securely settled and well looked after, and with most of his mates and contemporaries long gone, he obviously decided it was time for the long rest and peace that he had been yearning for.

Apart from being remembered as our Dad and Mum’s Husband, I think he would best love to be remembered as a citizen of goodstanding of the Willowie Community, the Community that was so dear to him for all of his life.

Don Barrie.