Whispering Jack's travels in time continue ...

A HIGHWAY OF DEMONS by Whispering Jack

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - THE WEED AND I

I was a young kid in school pants when I discovered my family had something in common with the family of champion Collingwood footballer, Murray Weideman - they both ran milk bars in Alphington, a working class suburb to the north of Melbourne.

It was 1959.

Murray was much older than me and already a local hero, having played in two Magpie premiership teams, including the infamous 1958 flag which destroyed Melbourne's hopes of making it six in a row from 1955 to 1960.

His nickname was The Weed but because he was a pretty tough bastard, they also called him "The Enforcer". Later, he had a brief stint as a professional actor wrestler. By contrast, my most courageous act was to "dob" on a thief stealing snowballs from the confectionary section of the family business.

Weideman must have been quite a lad with the women. He married a Miss Australia winner. I was more interested in comic books and stamp collecting than girls back then.

Though we had little in common, the Weed and I were brought together in dramatic circumstances on one cold wintery evening.

We were only a few decades and three or four miles away from Squizzy Taylor territory and it was still hard to make a quid in the inner northern industrial suburbs. This was a tough neighbourhood where petty crime and violence, often fueled by alcohol were rife. On occasion, opposition supporters were farewelled at the end of local sporting contests by angry mobs swinging axe handles in their direction as they ran to their vehicles only to discover missing hub caps and sometimes, even tyres.

Naturally, there was illegal betting everywhere and although that was mainly on the horses or games of two up, football was also on the agenda. It seems that one particular gang had bet heavily on Hawthorn to beat Collingwood and wanted to influence the result by intimidating the participants. And who better to intimidate than the best player?

One night a fusillade of shots rang out in the street, leaving several bullet holes in the front shop window of the Weideman family milk bar. By the following morning, the local constabulary had arrived at our nearby premises to ask questions. Did we know anything about the incident?

I was terrified and thought my father was about to be arrested. I still can hear him repeating the words Sergeant Hans Shulz later made famous on television, "I hear nuttink, I see nuttink I know nuttink!"

Of course, we were innocent of everything but the fact that we were the nearest opposition business and though the story was widely reported in the newspapers and the threats against Weideman continued (Collingwood even hired private detectives to tail him to games), the furore eventually died a natural death.

The Weed was tough but he was far more than a hit man of the game. He stood only a tad over 6 feet and an inch (about 187cm), then a good height for a key backman or a centre half forward and he could really play; he won the Copeland Trophy for Collingwood's best and fairest player in 1957, 1961 and 1962. He often locked horns with Melbourne's hero Ron Barassi and it was always worth the cost of admission alone just to watch them in the contests.

We got our revenge for '58 when we beat the Pies on a rainy Saturday afternoon in September, 1960 to record an 11th Melbourne premiership and in doing so, kept the old foe to a record low grand final score of 2.2.14. That evening, proudly serving in the store wearing my red and blue jumper with the famous Barassi number 31 on my back, I was euphoric enough not to mind the torrent of abuse coming from the disgruntled, toothless, drunken Magpie fans passing in as they made their way home to steal the odd snowball. By the time we repeated the dose four years later, Weideman had retired from VFL football and the family had sold the milk bar to a family of Richmond supporters so the humiliation of the black and white army prevailed in the area for at least another decade and more after that.

His retirement came not before the Enforcer caused havoc in his final game for his team against Melbourne. It was Round 16, 1963 at the MCG and the Pies were out of the finals race while the Demons were in hot form and heading for their tenth finals series in a row. Despite its superiority over the old enemy (they won 19.15.129 to 10.8.68), the home team was reminded that there was no love lost from the soon to retire tough man of football.

Players went down like nine pins and more likely than not the hulking figure of the Collingwood skipper was seen standing over limp, prostrate bodies. In a different time and a different place, those punches have made him champion of the world. Those who were bowled over that day included, in no particular order, Frank "Bluey" Adams, Kerry Rattray, Hassa Mann and Tony Anderson. It was a fitting swan song to Demonland given the torment he and his team suffered throughout his long, illustrious career.

The Weed dabbled with mixed success in coaching, both in the country and interstate and he returned for an uneventful two years at the helm of Collingwood which sunk to its first ever VFL wooden spoon under his stewardship. The last defeat of that forgettable stint was a loss to Melbourne at Victoria Park. His son Mark, also played for the club but injuries curtailed that career and he came nowhere near the qualification requirement to bind the next generation of Weidemans to the Collingwood Football Club.

The stands at Victoria Park are now silent and the surrounding suburbs are the playground of the gentry, no longer working class and more cafe society. Milk bars have been replaced by 7/11s and convenience stores operate out of petrol stations. The underworld has moved elsewhere and the enmity between Dees and Pies is almost in armistice mode.

And while ghosts with shriveled black and white scarves might still wander through Grange Road, Alphington on windy nights, there's not a snowball's hope in hell that you could convince them that a young Weideman has emerged from leafy Vermont in Melbourne's eastern suburbs to become a Demon.

Well done WJ.

Have you got any snowballs left?

  On 28/11/2015 at 21:37, Redleg said:

Well done WJ.

Have you got any snowballs left?

As the joke went, snowballs are the difference between snowmen and snow-women.

Wouldn't it be unreal if the grandson of the great Weiderman helps his rival club defeat Collingwood in there first premiership in over 50 years!!

This is a Great read, unfortunately some of us on here were not alive to witness the great Demons of the 50's and 60's so it's good to read what those days would have been like.

NIce tale, WJ. Sounds like there is more to be written there ...

Welcome to the MFC Weiderman!

Beautifully written Jack.

Thanks I am now Gentrified. It's only taken me 60 odd years to achieve such a status.

Alphington used to serve up a pretty rugged game of footy in those days too even though they had half the local constabulary playing for them and Parkside.

Great to still be alive isn't it...

Thanks WJ that was great read. Like Charlie Dickens.

Fabulous read.

Finally, after so many false dawns, could a Weideman in an unbelievable piece of irony help bring an end to the curse of Norm Smith.

A wonderful tale to finish the weekend. Thanks WJ.

Thanks Jack! But remind us; how on earth did you become a Melbourne supporter?! (I suspect a strong-minded mother!)

I'm in my late thirties so I well and truly missed it, but I love hearing all the stories about the tribal nature of the game back then.

Thanks for the read.

  On 29/11/2015 at 13:09, Timothy Reddan-A said:

Thanks Jack! But remind us; how on earth did you become a Melbourne supporter?! (I suspect a strong-minded mother!)

No mother didn't care for football but she did have a role to play and it's mentioned in one of the earlier chapters which is in the archives section.

Christmas 1954 and a visit to Myers with my cousin and aunt. They bought us each a tie with a Melbourne player kicking a footy ... I've never looked back.

Brought back a lot of memories for me Jack. I used to ride my bike through the back streets of Alphington from Ivanhoe to get to school. Only got beaten up once. But then there was a mongrel dog in Bennett Street that used to chase me on my bike. Had a number of tetanus injections as a result. My father and eldest brother both worked at the old APM, which I see is being developed into yet another lego land of apartments.