This week a glimpse into historic Glen through Douglas Abbott's young eyes continues.
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In the museum we have a foot powered dentist drill and so many other items to remind us of earlier days. These reminisces of Mr Abbott have been fascinating, and the long evenings of this winter would be an opportune time for us to write up our own stories - or record them on our phones, perhaps surrounded by photo albums, old letters, address books or autograph books. We owe it to our families.
'It was a long time before the silent moving pictures arrived in town. They were shown in a roomy tin shed close to Freddie Trimmer's house opposite the old flour mill. Most of the audience sat on the floor with the rest at the back on wooden forms. Later Jack Amstead who was born in London, built the 'Majestic Theatre' in Meade Street and employed people to play accompanying music to the silent films.
To attend the Police Court at Deepwater before the turn of the century, my father [solicitor P P Abbott] would ride there in the afternoon, stay the night, then after finishing the Court next day would ride to Emmaville for Court, spending the night there. After completing work at the Court, the following day, he would ride back to Glen Innes. He carried his pyjamas and spare clothing on the pommel, of the saddle and his papers and a couple of legal books in the saddle bag.
About 1912-1913 there was a ten-day Brigade camp of three Light Horse Regiments under canvas on a large open paddock, part of 'Lilburn'. It was on the southern side of the Glen Legh Road southeast of the present traffic bridge. I believe the three Regiments (each of some 500 men) comprised the 6 th Regiment from New England, another from the North-West and the other from the North Coast. On exercises around the district fences presented no problem as the troops were legally entitled to cut them without notice, much to the wrath of several owners.
The miseries of people who had to encounter dentists.
The miseries of people who had to encounter dentists during those pre-First World War days.
I still remember the tall Dr W C Blessing, having persuaded me to climb up and sit on his chair, looking down on me "Open wide Douglas", with either his chisel and dentist's mallet in his hand or his foot on the moveable wheel which drove that pre-historic drill....'