Great Tasmania Stories by Bill Marsh

Author:Bill Marsh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ABC Books
Published: 2011-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Launceston — Tas

Now this story isn’t about a little outback town or nothing but it’s a little ripper about a pub in Launceston, Tasmania. The Apple Isle. Nice place, Launceston, lots of gardens and stuff. Pretty old. Don’t know its history. Wouldn’t have a clue. It’s in the Tamar Valley, that’s all I know, and I even stand corrected on that. I’m no historian. I’m a worker. An ex-shearer.

So it’s the Commercial Hotel, Launceston. Early 60s. And this story’s as true as I stand here, holding up the bar. See, the Commercial was one of the most popular pubs in Tassie because it was totally a union pub. Totally. If you were in the AWU, you were in. Not a worry. Even if you hadn’t booked a room, it didn’t matter. They got you in somehow. Then in the morning, if you could manage it, you fronted up to this huge kitchen-hall for breakfast and, boy, didn’t you get a real good feed: bacon, eggs, sausages, chops, the lot. Whatever you wanted. But what the pub was really known for was their beautiful Sunday lunch. Just about everyone who had a union ticket would turn up for this feed, this Sunday lunch. Oh, they’d come for miles.

Okay, so we go into Launceston, a few workmates and me, and we go down to the Commercial. It’s a huge, big, rambling hotel. Typically old style. Two-storey. We gets there on the dot of ten o’clock and the place’s already packed. Absolutely packed. Lunch’s about one. But, it doesn’t matter, we show our ticket and we’re in. Any rate, we have a few beers then we get stuck into this lunch. Absolutely beautiful. Everything you’d ever want and more. Then after lunch a mate and me decide to go for a bit of a poke around. Me mate’s name’s Ted. So we wander up to one of the rooms and, lo and behold, there’s about twenty blokes playing poker, which, mind you, was a highly illegal activity. Any rate, I’m a bit buggered, right. A bit wobbly on the perch. So I just finds myself a spare bed and hits the sack. When I wake up I need some fresh air. ‘I’m goin’ fer a walk,’ I say.

‘I’ll come with yer,’ says Ted.

So that’s what we do and somehow we end up down near Victoria Bridge. I don’t know how we got there but we did. We hung around there for a while then we start thinking that we’d better go back to the Commercial and see what our workmates are up to. Now, by the letter of the law, pubs had to close up pretty early in Tassie, especially on a Sunday. So, by the time we get back, everything’s sort of dead. The blinds are drawn and the place looks like it’s closed down.

‘Shit, what are we gonna do?’

Then we hears this racket coming from inside the pub.

‘There’s somethin’ goin’ on in there,’ Ted says. ‘Let’s have a look.’

‘Okay.’ So we find the fire escape and we’re up that.

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