Another surprise email arrived today ...
G`day Linda,
Mark Stass is my name, my parents moved to Marayong in 1952 after migrating from Europe 1949. Dad was Czechoslovakian and spoke many languages amongst them Italian. He was a barber by trade and had a lively trade from all the mob from the EPT camp. He had a day job at Riverstone meatworks and cut hair after hours at our house. I was born in 1951 and remember fairly well the circus atmosphere when a few turned up for a cut. Vince Ferrara was one who seemed to make himself at home and often cooked up a big serving of spaghetti with what I thought at the time horrible smelly cheese. I remember visiting the mess hall a few times and I suppose Antonio Cardinale probably served me up some spaghetti. The Church was a beauty, built from nice lacquered timber I think and the bell would go off on the quarter hour before mass on Sunday.
Hard to imagine the few buildings that were there in the 50's, we lived on the corner of Harvey Rd and Elliot st till 1958, in a little garage size dwelling that my father built and then moved not far away to Sunnyholt Rd into a brand spanking' new Mala (builders name) home. There were quite a few other migrants spread out around the area we use to visit, most seemed self sufficient with cows, goats and gardens. Their was a dairy farm nearby, my sister and I probably made a nuisance of ourselves there, the Crogan family managed it. I loved the steam trains going by our place loaded with stock for the Riverstone meatworks, often not being able to encounter the rise and having to roll back towards Blacktown and try again.
My father died two and half years ago aged 95, mother worked at the Bonds cotton mill for years at Pendle Hill, still going and 85.
Great memories, my early connections with those men instilled an affection for Italians, they were fun loving fellas.
cheers
Mark Stass
