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as long as he could.
But the town's population was diminishing yearly and other businesses continued to close. By
1937 he was a baker no more. Perhaps the business failed. Or he may have sold out before it
did. But once again he had to find another job, something was increasingly difficult. And he was
probably in debt. Yet there were always old mates to advise and assist, and he next found work
with his former employers, Queensland Railways.
Although some lines had been closed (in 1919 and 1920), Cloncurry was still the main rail
depot in the area, and with the rise of Mt Isa - a new line thither from Duchess was opened in
1929 - its continuance had been assured. So Lawrie rejoined the railways, by whom his young
nephews, Don and Bob, were also employed at this time.
He would remain in the Curry, and with Queensland Railways, for the rest of his working life,
which slowed and slid into a long decline in pace with the
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town. He was a number-taker on the railways at first, then a shunter, then a guard. Being a
number-taker meant he had to check on contents, destinations and availability of wagons and
carriages. Although as a guard he must have travelled to other towns and as far away as
Townsville, it seems that he seldom got in touch with his relatives. It was only because his
nephew, Bob, was similarly employed that they occasionally met. Gwen was now married and
would visit him no more.
Throughout most of this period Lawrie's home was a single man's room in a railway-owned
boarding-house, and he used to augment his income by doing odd jobs and repairs. In his spare
time he helped out at sporting events as a minor official and sometimes as a coach. He enjoyed
participating in both outdoor and indoor games. He was already a regular player of card games
and billiards, snooker and pool. When he aged, he frequently acted as the marker at various
competitions involving these last three games.
Meanwhile, the sight and sound of aeroplanes flying in and out of Cloncurry had increased,
although some of the attention they used to excite had waned. Nonetheless, the solo flight of
"The Boy from Bundaberg," Bert Hinkler, from Croydon in England to Darwin in February
1928, would have revived memories of the Smith brothers' epic; Hinkler's flight took under 16
days. Wonderment at the advances in aviation must have increased when Charles Kingsford
Smith and three companions flew across the Pacific in a monoplane, Southern Cross. They set
out from Oakland in California on 31 May, and after a total of nearly 84 hours in the air, with
stops at Hawaii and Fiji, they landed in Brisbane on 9 June.
Earlier that year, in May, a local flying event occurred that would also enter history, when a de
Havilland with a doctor on board flew from Cloncurry to Julia Creek. It was the first official
flight of the Flying Doctor Service.
The concept of such a service originated in the mind of a young AFC pilot, Clifford Peel, during
the Great War. He wrote about it in a letter to a Presbyterian minister, John Flynn, who
belonged to the AIM, the Australian Inland Mission. Their ministers tended to the spiritual needs
of those who lived in the outback - much as the Bush Brothers (the Brotherhood of St
Barnabas) had done since 1904. Even up to 1902 Cloncurry had remained an outpost of the
Anglian parish of St James in Townsville. Flynn had traversed the outback on horseback since
1912, and the suffering of those unfortunate people whose illnesses and injuries could never be
relieved by adequate medical care made him anxious to find some solution. The great distances
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