by Al McCartan
Old Tomas Nowak was buried today, Father. Len Monaghan conducting the Mass of Christian Burial to half of Kikacro.
Tomas, or Tom, Nowak came to Australia in 1948, with his young wife, Danuta. As was the policy of immediate post war settlement, Tom and Danuta were sent to a camp. For the Nowaks, it was Greta Migrant Camp, in the Hunter Valley.
Tom, a teacher, and Danuta, a librarian in their native Poland had their happy lives as a young engaged couple, shattered by the invasion by Nazi Germany in 1939.
For five years they endured the yoke of subjugation from the invaders; Danuta, a pretty girl, subject to taunts and ribald remarks from the soldiery.
Frequently, the Germans would crash into the library and dismantle the shelves and tear the books, claiming that when Poland was swept clean of the undesirables, a new order would arise where honest Polish – read collaborators – and German authors’ works would be prominent in the libraries of the new nation.
On liberation by the Russians in 1945, rather than face life under a new communist regime, Tom and Danuta escaped and made it to France after almost a year on the run.
From France, it was over to England, where Tom improved his English skills and taught German to those Britons both military and civilian who were posted to Allied-occupied Germany. In 1947, they were married and in 1948, migrated to Australia.
Under the system of that time, both Tom and Danuta found it hard to find employment – their Polish qualifications not recognised by NSW and had to eke out a living doing other jobs.
Somehow they got wind of fruit picking jobs in Kikacro and glad to be rid of Greta Camp, left for a new life.
Danuta and Tom were impressed by Kikacro’s laid-back life style and settled into the community life.
Tom was sitting in Kikacro’s Blue Wren Tearooms trying valiantly to enjoy the coffee when he was approached by an old man – remember Tom was 28 at this time.
“Mr Nowak?”
“It is pronounced NoVack,” said Tom. “No matter, sir, what can I do for you?”
“I understand you were a librarian in Europe?”
“No, sir, that is my wife, Danuta, she loves books .”
“I am glad to hear that, Mr Novak. I am Mal Griffin; I own the second hand bookstore in the main street.”
“Ah, yes, I have passed it many a time and my wife, Danuta has been in, but she could not find any Polish authors.”
“Well, Mr Novak, I am eighty five and I cannot carry working the shop anymore. I have no children to pass it on to and it is a viable little business.”
Tom smiled. “Thank you Mr Griffin, but if you are trying to sell the business to me, I have not the money.”
“No, Mr. Novak, I will not sell it to you. Please, ask your good wife if she would like to work the shop for me, you too, I would pay you a reasonable wage, please think on it and give me an answer.”
It didn’t take long for Danuta to agree to working in the shop. She was, as they say, in clover. For three years both Tom and Danuta worked for Mr Griffin.
In 1952, a month after the passing of King George VI, old Mr Griffin – Griffo to his friends, passed away and in his will left all of his estate including the bookshop to the Novaks.
Thus was born “Griffo’s Pre-Loved Books” which was a great meeting place for people of Kikacro and the surrounding area.
Danuta’s friend, Ellie, ran a small coffee and cakes business in the shop, which by now had expanded and pride of place was the back room, dubbed “The Dickens Olde Curiosity Shoppe – a room ceiling to floor of books of all ages. This was for the children who took advantage of the unofficial library. Many a Leaving Certificate and HSC were passed by kids reading references from battered old text books.
Danuta passed in 2007 and now that old Tom was gone, who would run the shop.
I, as the little swot who virtually lived in the Olde Curiosity Shop now have that honour.
© Al McCartan 2010
This entry was posted by Al McCartan on Monday, March 1st, 2010 at 12:00 am and is filed under Theme of the Month.
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Is that true, Al? Do you really run a book shop? If so, lucky you – I’m very envious.
Wendy
I wish!, but isn’t imagination wonderful. Actually, I mined the idea from a session in Slado’s Pre-loved Books, here in Bathurst – seeking a 1901 “Chums Annual.”