I think I was about 6 when my father and Uncle Harry established their firm 'Ralfs and Hermsdorf', a photolithography and plate making business, which was an essential part of the printing industry. My father ran the lithographic side of the business and Uncle Harry was in charge of the plate making part. The finished metal photographic plates would be loaded into Uncle Harry's car and then driven to the actual printing firm where the images processed at 'Ralfs and Hermsdorf' would be brought to life as coloured prints.
The business was located off the Pacific Highway in Christie Street St Leonards in Sydney. These days that area is covered with sophisticated high rise office blocks but in the 50's St Leonards was a very modest suburb mainly filled with single storey family homes. The buildings immediately along the Pacific Highway, particularly near the railway station, were a bit more industrial with car repair yards, small factories, the odd corner store and a Chinese restaurant.
Right on the corner of the Pacific Highway and Christie St was a pub. Typically, the outside was covered with cream and green tiles and there were glass framed posters of horses racing, men playing football and glamorous ladies and gentlemen drinking Resch's beer. I certainly never saw anything glamorous in that pub and couldn't bear the smell when I walked by. There was a narrow lane way and then there was the yard where my father, Uncle Harry and some of the other workers parked their cars. We had to keep the gate shut or the drinkers would wander over and sit in the yard. My father often got one of his apprentices to collect up the glasses that were left in the lane way and return them to the pub. I was rarely there in the evening but in those days pubs closed at 6 o'clock and from about 5 there was always a stampede with men turning up to drink their fill before staggering home. The gate was always securely shut at that time and if I happened to be there I wouldn't be allowed out.
'Ralfs and Hermsdorf' was in two buildings which also housed other businesses. The street front looked like a little family home. The two men who worked in the front of the building made dentures. They shared a single toilet with the lithographers and I only ever peeped into their premises if the door between the businesses happened to be left open. Seeing all those pink 'gums' with their bright white teeth on the benches along with an alarming array of drills, hooks and other metal implements was a bit scary. Also the smell of the various resins that were used in the manufacture were eye wateringly pungent.
The back of that building housed the lithographers and the camera operator. There was a small office where my father and Uncle Harry did quotes for jobs and where my mother worked when she did the pays. Mutti was the book keeper for the business and always did the pays on a Friday. She did all the other administrative work at home. During school holidays I would accompany her to the bank and then go to the factory while she put the money into envelopes before handing it out to the employees.
My father's part of the building held five glass topped tables with lights underneath where the lithographers worked on the photographic negatives. There was also a really big glass topped table for large negatives. There was a room for the large camera, imported from Germany (and very expensive) which our friend Annedore operated. Next to the camera room were two darkrooms where the negatives were processed. There was yet another room where the finished works were packaged up.
Uncle Harry's plate making area was in a separate building and was shared by a business that produced industrial cakes of soap - grey and gritty that was guaranteed to take any grease off your skin (skin as well if you rubbed too hard!). It was run by two men - the owner of the business, whose name I have forgotten, was jolly and round. His offsider, who did all the hard lifting, was as skinny as a rake. I remember his name, Mr Still, because he shook like a leaf in a gale. He had suffered neurological damage saving a lady in a carriage when her horses bolted. He had grabbed the reins and had been dragged underneath the wheels. Although he shook like crazy he managed to work really hard. I liked both men very much.
Uncle Harry's plate making area was smelly because of all sorts of nasty chemicals and extremely noisy because of the strong exhaust fans. There was even a 'downdraft' table. The metal plates would be processed on this table and the whole edge of the table sucked the noxious fumes away, so the place was very loud. I didn't much like being in that part of the building but I liked the people, particularly Uncle Harry, so I never failed to visit. I always took drawings and paintings for Uncle Harry and he would tape them up with great ceremony. My father would announce that Harry had another Picasso to add to his collection. I had no idea who Picasso was but realised that it was somehow derogatory so hated this Picasso person whoever that was.
Going to the business with my mother was fairly boring after I had finished going around saying hello to everyone. We were often there for a few hours so I would have to find something to occupy myself with. There was always lots of scrap paper, pens and coloured pencils, so I could draw, but my favourite and most time consuming activity was with the sticky tape. There was a range of coloured sticky tapes which were used as special markers. The clear red tape wouldn't show up in photographic processes and it was my favourite. I would spend ages cutting the clear red tape putting it on my fingernails to look like nail polish, just like I would lick red 'Smarties' (similar to M&M's) and rub them on my lips to look like lipstick. My mother used a bit of lipstick but generally disapproved of other makeup, particularly nail polish. Perhaps as a reaction I thought all makeup fabulous and was always trying to emulate the look. Everyone laughed at my nail polish imitation and I certainly had to remove all traces before we went back home on the bus.
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