IN 1929 I was a pupil at Scotch College in Launceston, which perched high on a steep hill, overlooking the North Esk River.
In April the rain came. Rains that Tasmania had never previously experienced, and we hope never will again. It pelted and the floods came.
In one night 14 people were drowned when the Briseis Dam near Derby in the state’s northeast collapsed.
Eight more were drowned in the Gawler River near Ulverstone on the north-west coast. Other areas had their own disasters.
Roads were covered deeply and hundreds of bridges washed away, including the magnificent convict-built stone bridge over the South Esk River at Perth.
Some small townships were destroyed forever; others almost completely inundated.
In Invermay, a suburb of Launceston, 4500 people were homeless.
I can still see all sorts of rowing boats, dinghies, bringing them to safety.
For many days, into weeks, these people were given shelter in the Albert Hall and on the Launceston Showground, camped in the various halls, stables, sheep and cattle sheds. From the hill on which Scotch College sits the memories are still clear.
The drowned livestock – sheep, cattle and horses – being washed downstream and several haystacks miraculously holding together and still looking like haystacks (a credit to those who built them) on their way towards the Tamar River.
In Longford, then really just a township, more than 200 people were homeless, and the river rose 56 feet (17 metres) – higher than its previously known highest.
Launceston was not yet a city. Its main claim to fame was as the textile capital – perhaps of Australia.
Patons and Baldwins, a manufacturer of knitting yarn, employed well over 1000 staff.
With its headquarters in Scotland, the P&B finished articles were world famous.
The Waverley Woollen Mills, owned by the Hogarth family, produced the world’s best blankets and ran their own buses to transport their 350 staff.
Kelsall & Kemp were world-recognised top makers with a big staff, as were Thyne Brothers. Now they are all gone and Australia is the poorer.
Parts of Launceston and Hobart had sealed streets, but only parts of them. The main road was sealed from the city centre in Launceston, through Kings Meadows, but not as far as Youngtown.
There were no buses – you travelled by train, a five-hour journey with many stops. Horsedrawn cabs still serviced Launceston and Hobart.
How times have changed – sometimes for the better, but progress is not always kind.
Jim Osborne died in 2012, aged 93, but his family only recently discovered his diary. Extracts are reproduced here with their permission.
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