Cambria Parkinson (nee Donovan), a former resident of North Balwyn, vividly remembers the charm and quirks of her old North Balwyn Village neighbourhood in the 1940s. Having grown up amidst the semi-rural landscapes of Melbourne’s east, she recalls a time of milk carts, ice deliveries, and the steady hum of the Number 48 tram.
Cambria’s story, The Incident at the Fletcher & Parker Corner, is inspired by a memorable event on this very tram line, which many locals still fondly associate with the notorious “hook bend” at Bulleen and Doncaster Roads.
Although she moved away in 1965 following her marriage at St Bede’s, Cambria’s connection to North Balwyn remains strong. Her story captures the spirit of a bygone era, blending nostalgia with the intrigue of an unforgettable moment aboard the tram.
Cambria’s reflections are enriched by her collection of historical memorabilia, including rare photographs and books detailing the area’s past. This story, paired with an old photo of the Fletcher & Parker corner, is set to appear in the next issue of the Bannockburn Newsletter. It’s a fitting tribute to the community that shaped her early years—and to a small corner of Melbourne that still sparks curiosity, even decades later.
The North Balwyn Traders Association is pleased to publish her story on our website and trader newsletter.
The Incident at Fletcher & Parker Corner
By Cambria Parkinson (nee Donovan)
North Balwyn in the 1940s was a rapidly emerging suburb, still semi-rural, with paddocks, rabbits and cows dotting the landscape. The dwellings were a mixture of 1920s weatherboards, lovely solid clinker bricks of the 1930s and the ubiquitous brick veneers of the 1950s. Living close to Doncaster Road, we could quite easily cut through between the houses to the shops. Milk and bread were delivered by horse and cart, ice and groceries by truck. Not everyone had a phone, fridge or even a car in those days.
People walked everywhere: to the shops, church, school and sport, but the principal transport out of the suburb was by tram. These “green rattlers” took us to secondary school in Richmond, and to the “pictures” or important shopping in the city. The Number 40/48 Route ran along Doncaster Road from Balwyn Road to Spencer Street. Chocolate from Ernest Hiller’s or a book from Hall’s Secondhand Book Store was a treat that made the five-mile stop ’n’ start trip worthwhile!
The driver sat alone in his cramped little cabin at the front, whilst the conductor spanned the length of the tram, taking fares and dispensing tickets, checking our concession cards and generally keeping things in order. It was a taxing job: they were always on their feet, and always on the go; only rarely did a conductor sit down.
Everyone knew the tram route intimately. As a regular, I knew the vagaries of our line, including a sudden hook-bend at the junction of Bulleen and Doncaster Roads, where the famous Fletcher & Parker Real Estate stood. Passengers caught unawares were liable to fall over unless hanging onto a strap or bracing for the jerk.
On this particular day, I was the only passenger in my compartment up at the driver’s end, apart from one gentleman. He got up and made his way out to alight, standing in the open doorway facing out. Suddenly, I spotted a wad of money stuck down the back of the seat where he’d been sitting! Grabbing the bundle of notes, I darted after him. I tapped him on the shoulder, saying, “Excuse me,” but, as he turned to take the money I thrust at him, we hit the Fletcher & Parker dogleg! To my absolute horror, he was falling backwards out of the tram. In that split second, he grabbed the stanchion just inside the doorway. To top things off, the automatic door suddenly shut, trapping him by the wrist, his body almost dangling in mid-air!
The conductor raced over, and we both wrenched the door off him and dragged him back up the step. The poor shaken man staggered back into the carriage to sit down…
Ending with a bang, as it did, and not a whimper, I never found out what transpired, as that was my stop and I got off the tram. Sixty years on, I still wonder about the part this seventeen-year-old schoolgirl played in that incident. What happened to the man…and the money?!