“Wot you talk rainy day? Is no rainy day here!”<\/p>\n
Literally, he was right. They lived on the edge of the Great Victoria Desert.<\/p>\n
Rainy days were few-and-far-between \u2013 if ever! Stipan \u2013 aka Steve, was an odious man; an alcoholic gambler: “Is my money. I do what I like!”<\/p>\n
He did.<\/p>\n
He was, between 1950 and 1956, one of the highest-paid underground machine miners.<\/p>\n
The basic wage was 25 pounds a fortnight.<\/p>\n
He earned 250 pounds a fortnight.<\/p>\n
Also, he ran the fortnightly two-up down behind the purple dumps, further supplementing his wages by 100 pounds.<\/p>\n
I recall he and Beria at the kitchen table, laughing uproariously at how his sleight-of-hand allowed him to steal from winning players.<\/p>\n
Dickie Bates operated the local betting shop.<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
At day’s end he returned home with a face like thunder.<\/p>\n
Invariably, an argument ended in domestic assault.<\/p>\n
He would head back to the hotel, and Beria would pack her case, threatening to leave.<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
Dumping it at his feet she said: “And bloody well don’t come back!” He did, of course.<\/p>\n
For the purposes of my book, And Be Home Before Dark, we did a financial guesstimation\/calculation of the losses.<\/p>\n
Annually, for six years, Steve gambled the equivalent of about 1 million dollars.<\/p>\n
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!<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
Numerous times the balance was ten or 15 pounds.<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
When I complained, my father listened but said not a word. Statistically, 73% of Australians gamble at least once in the year.<\/p>\n
For the majority it is deemed entertainment; for some it is an addiction with multifarious and grave consequences.<\/p>\n
For governments it presents a dichotomy. Gambling revenue is significant \u2013 paying for hospitals, roads, schools et al.<\/p>\n
In 2022-23 the government raised billions in revenue. Its loss would be concerning.<\/p>\n
Equally, the protection of affected families is paramount \u2013 particularly children, to whom we have a responsibility.<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
A horse to water, and all of that\u2026The problem is vexed.<\/p>\n
The outcome must serve both responsible punters and those with a problem.<\/p>\n
That would be sensible!<\/p>\n
Roland joins Brett Macdonald radio 3BA 10.45 Monday morning. Contact roland@rolandroc.com.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
“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 \u2013 if ever! Stipan \u2013 aka Steve, was an odious man; an alcoholic gambler: “Is my money. I do what I like!” He did. He was, between […]<\/p>\n