From the desk of Roland Rocchiccioli

“Wot you talk rainy day? Is no rainy day here!”

Literally, he was right. They lived on the edge of the Great Victoria Desert.

Rainy days were few-and-far-between – if ever! Stipan – aka Steve, was an odious man; an alcoholic gambler: “Is my money. I do what I like!”

He did.

He was, between 1950 and 1956, one of the highest-paid underground machine miners.

The basic wage was 25 pounds a fortnight.

He earned 250 pounds a fortnight.

Also, he ran the fortnightly two-up down behind the purple dumps, further supplementing his wages by 100 pounds.

I recall he and Beria at the kitchen table, laughing uproariously at how his sleight-of-hand allowed him to steal from winning players.

Dickie Bates operated the local betting shop.

In prime position on the other side of the town’s only bitumen road, directly opposite the State Hotel, and most pay-weeks Steve had lost his money by lunchtime.

At day’s end he returned home with a face like thunder.

Invariably, an argument ended in domestic assault.

He would head back to the hotel, and Beria would pack her case, threatening to leave.

On one occasion she packed his case and carried it to the State Hotel. When she stormed into the public bar the men went silent.

Dumping it at his feet she said: “And bloody well don’t come back!” He did, of course.

For the purposes of my book, And Be Home Before Dark, we did a financial guesstimation/calculation of the losses.

Annually, for six years, Steve gambled the equivalent of about 1 million dollars.

Had they invested in prime Perth real-estate, as some Italians in Gwalia did, Beria would have been worth at her death a conservative 60 million; and, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride!

Steve was not alone. Too many men risked their lives working one of the most dangerous mines in the goldfields, ending-up with nothing when the mine closed in 1963.

I spent weekends with my father. Always, before I left on Sunday evening he gave me ten shillings to deposit into my Commonwealth Savings Bank school passbook.

Numerous times the balance was ten or 15 pounds.

When the cash ran out, Beria would raid my bank account leaving a balance of one shilling (ten cents) – the minimum required to keep the account active.

When I complained, my father listened but said not a word. Statistically, 73% of Australians gamble at least once in the year.

For the majority it is deemed entertainment; for some it is an addiction with multifarious and grave consequences.

For governments it presents a dichotomy. Gambling revenue is significant – paying for hospitals, roads, schools et al.

In 2022-23 the government raised billions in revenue. Its loss would be concerning.

Equally, the protection of affected families is paramount – particularly children, to whom we have a responsibility.

Indubitably, gambling advertising is annoyingly excessive and needs regulation; however, while those with a problem must be given professional assistance, we are, each of us, responsible for our own lives.

A horse to water, and all of that…The problem is vexed.

The outcome must serve both responsible punters and those with a problem.

That would be sensible!

Roland joins Brett Macdonald radio 3BA 10.45 Monday morning. Contact [email protected].