A letter from the Victoria Police Force dated 19 January 1984 confirmed that Anzac Noel Hope (known as Noel Hope) was born on 20 July 1916 at Footscray (Melbourne) and prior to joining the Force was a licensed sub-agent. He was appointed as a Constable on 28 July 1936 and allotted the Registered Number 9131. He performed duty at the Depot, Russell Street and Bourke Street West before resigning from the Force on 6 September 1938.

In a letter written in 1988, Noel wrote about his family and other things, close to his heart.

He went on to say "Jess and I take off for towns over the Murray; Tocumwal, Corowa, Yarrawonga, etc., and stay a few nights. We were in the USA again in June for the 2nd time in 12 months, and had a great time stopping off in Hawaii and revisiting Art Galleries in New York, Washington and LA. We visited Disneyland once again, and motored to Texas and Louisiana. Ron, our son, took us to Las Vegas to the Hilton Flamingo and we sampled the delights of Caesar's Palace, The Dunes, Golden Nuggett., etc. The whole beggars description.

"I painted Arrival of Atalanta for the Hope Family Reunion in 1986, which was later sold to Peter Smith of Hynam; although it was originally brought to the reunion for a "show and tell" display."

The Bahgallah Road Hope's or The Two Richmond Armstrong Hope's:

"Richmond Armstrong Hope the first was my Grandfather. I am 70 years old but I remember him quite clearly, although I was 8 years old when he died. He was a stocky man about 5 feet 9 inches tall, with bright intelligent eyes and a bushy beard. Somewhat of a recluse, he spent most of his time in a malthoid roofed sleepout in the backyard of the family cottage in Bahgallah Road, Casterton.

An avid reader, he enjoyed most of all, journals like The Weekly Times and The Leader, - an "Age" publication long since defunct. Each of these weeklies published a column for draught's players and included a draughts problem for readers to solve. As Grandfather was a brilliant player he greatly enjoyed this section and always solved the problems with ease. He read Poetry and many of the literary classics and was largely self-educated. He smoked what to me was a foul-smelling pipe, and always seemed to be occupied whenever I looked in on him. I remember Grandfather as a very strict Presbyterian disciplinarian who set equally strict rules for the observance of the Sabbath - no noise, no games, no piano - Sunday had to be a day of rest and worship. He was always kind to my brother (Richie or Dick) and me but we were secretly a little afraid of him. So we didn't bother him and he didn't worry us. I often wish now that we'd made a greater effort to cultivate his friendship and get to know him better. Richie and I lived at Bahgallah Road for some 3 months during 1923 while our Mum was recovering from surgery. Dad, (Richmond Armstrong Hope the 2nd) was a Police Officer stationed at Hamilton. We walked to and from school in Casterton daily, and the Grades, books and teachers were very strange to us. In one practical school period the kids made baskets with raffia and binder-twice, a process completely foreign to us. We used to catch and wish we could join in.

During this and subsequent years we made a number of return trips between Hamilton and Casterton - all by T-Model Ford over unmade tracks. I don't know where the car came from each time - it wasn't ours, and the trip was long, cold, wet and hazardous in the extreme. Dad used to turn the car around and reverse up the 3-mile Muntham Hill. At least that's what we called that dreaded section. On one occasion while descending the same hill we kids were amazed to see a car wheel heading out in front of us across a paddock. It turned out to be our rear wheel but our tin Lizzie was running along, albeit a little roughly, on the remaining 3 wheels. A man named Skinner who apparently had a Mail and/or passenger contract picked us up in his open "Minerva" and drove us into Coleraine where we stayed overnight at Wombwell's Hotel. We kids loved the experience, the warmth and luxury of the hotel and especially the "flash" meal in the "palatial" dining room. The Wombwell ladies and Mum got on famously together and often visited us in Hamilton thereafter becoming close friends.

At that time the Hope household at Bahgallah Road, consisted of Grandma (nee Isabella Edgar), and Dad's twin sisters Jessie and Mollie, the young Freda and Isobel Matheson. Jessie operated the Casterton Post Office Telephone Exchange for many years and was well known throughout the district. She later married Frank Roper and lived at "Morningside" Dergholm. Needless to record, the same Frank Roper was a very regular visitor at Bahgallah Road.

Aunt Jessie was a beautiful person who spoke in a soft rich Scottish-Australian voice. Her twin sister Mollie taught primary school children almost until her death, ending an illustrious career at Westgarth Central. One of my old golfing mates at Rosanna owned the News agency opposite Westgarth Central for almost as long as Aunt Mollie taught at the school. "Miss Hope", he declares "was a lovely lady and the kiddies adored her. She had the utmost patience and loved even the naughty ones. Easily the most loved teacher - the feminine counterpart of Mr Chips if ever there was one."

Aunt Freda was young and was also a teacher living close to her school somewhere in a nearly town. She came home weekends. Freda was a brilliant pianist, happy, laughing, bright of eye and very pretty. We loved all three Aunts but I think Freda was our favourite. She became Mrs high Lochhead and lived at Irymple.

Isabel Matheson was only a babe at this time. She had lost her mother (Euphemia or Effie) and was being cared for at the time by Granny Hope. Isabel, a very pretty girl, became Mrs Don McLean

Granny Hope

My Granny Hope was a lady I will never forget if I live 1000 years. Well over 70 when I first met her, she ran a busy household on a tiny budget. She cooked, preserved, sewed, washed, fetched water when the tanks ran dry in summer, trapped the odd rabbit, milked a couple of cows, grew vegetables and fruit, fed the chooks, harnessed the old horse and drove into town for her shopping. One of her specialities was a mince pie. the meat was ground almost into a paste, flavoured with herbs, encased in pastry and placed on the table piping hot, moist, and savoury. Saturday night was bath night - in a large galvanised laundry tub. And yes, Gran boiled the water. Richie and I loved Granny and it was not only for the three pence she gave us to spend every week, which incidentally we spent on Violet Crumbles (but it helped)

Granny Hope was a fairly tall woman, with grey hair caught up in a bun at the rear. Her face was strong and handsome, her endurance remarkable. I never heard her raise her voice or complain about anything. She was well respected by all, and proud of her family. Granny Hope was indeed one of that rare brand of women who made our country what it is today - a true pioneer in every sense of the word.

Nights were spent playing Euchre or 500's when the girls were home. Grandfather did not participate. Freda was an accomplished pianist and we often sang around the piano. One night amid great excitement the girls arrived home with a portable gramophone - the latest. i can remember the records. They were the Skaters Waltz, The Whistler and His Dog and a western-type song called The Runaway Train, which was easily our favourite.

The words went as follows:

The runaway train came down the track and she blew (Whooooooo whistle)

The runaway train came down the track and she blew

The runaway train came down the track her whistle wide and her throttle back

And she Blew, Blew, Blew, Blew, Blew..."

My Father - Richmond Armstrong Hope

"Richmond Armstrong Hope was born on August 19 1885 and died in 1962, aged 77. He was father to 7 children, 5 boys and 2 girls. Mother of Jack, Bert and Edna died soon after Edna was born. Edith Badams was her maiden name, a first cousin of my father. Later he married Harriet Hill and Richie, Noel, Don, Tom and Betty were born, in that order. My father was the son of Richmond Armstrong, the first, who in turn was one of the younger members of the family of Thomas and Alice Hope who arrived in the barque "Atalanta" in Melbourne during 1856, from Scotland.

I can best describe my father by saying that he was everything to us that the word "father" embodies and implies in the traditional sense. He was tall, broad of shoulder and physically strong. No man could have been more handsome in a physical way, with classical features, blue eyes and wavy auburn hair. He was a product of the bush in the truest sense, and never lost his great love for the country to which he owned his birth and infant nurture.

Prior to joining the Victoria Police Force in his 20's, he worked as a farm hand and shearer in his beloved western district and was familiar with all the large stations and properties in surrounding areas.

Soon after he became the Police Constable he was called to a house fire in St Kilda. The house was well ablaze when he arrived and firemen had given up hope of saving the life of a small boy trapped within. Young Constable Hope hadn't though!!! he dived past the firemen into the house and immediately heard choking sobs emanating from under a bed. He saved the life of the boy, Hughes by name, and was awarded the coveted Police Valour Badge for his bravery. The Royal Humane Society also recognised the event with an illuminated scroll. Both awards are currently on permanent display, together with his photo and other items, in the Victoria Police Academy at Mt Waverley, having been donated by his widow - my mother.

Dad was a good sportsman and like all kids, we thought he was better than anyone at anything he did. But we weren't far wrong. he was a great shot with rifle or shotgun and often beat all comers at clay pigeon shoots at local shows. I recall how he picked up the mallet at the Melbourne Royal Show and with one crashing hit nearly knocked the bell off the top of the pole some 20-30 feet up. Other contestants barely belted the weight half way up the pole. We were so proud of him, as we were when he won for us a Daisy Air Rifle in a shoot-off with the local champ. He could always hold his place in a cricket team as a powerful left-hand batsman and spin bowler. Later on he took up tennis at the age of 37, as we boys all played and Mum had a regular place in one of our teams. At this particular time a local doubles pair had chalked up a record run of tournament wins throughout the surrounding district, and were unbeaten in 14 years. My brother Rich, 13 years and Dad beat them in an historic 3 set match which placed the coveted Gaunt Cup on our mantelpiece for the ensuing 12 months.

Dad was a great family man. he loved his mother and her large brood, especially his sisters who thought the world of him too. He loved and respected his father for the strict Presbyterian principles inculcated in the family's upbringing. My father was a clever man with a good brain - very alert and observant, attributes which served him in good stead during 30 years as a Police Officer. Opportunities for advanced education were available only to a few in the early part of the 20th century and given the opportunity Dad could have been anything. he studied hard and passed his exams for promotion in the Force with distinction. his handwriting was beautifully executed, spelling exemplary and over the years he acquired a sound knowledge of law and Police procedures.

To us, his family, our Dad was a source of inspiration. We were so proud of our parents and our home was a happy one. Dad was always there for help and advice and guidance. he was a compassionate man, with good old-fashioned morals and ideals - one of nature's gentlemen.

Finally, in one of her last letters to me, Aunt Jess (Dad's sister) summed things up beautifully about life at Powers Creek in the early days. "Our lives when young were uneventful" she wrote. "We lived in the bush. I could tell a lot about the fun we had - took nothing seriously, and hadn't a care in the world. We grew up, branched out to earn our livings. have had our ups and downs, joys and sorrows, but still remain true to Dad and Mother's teachings".

An Early Ansett Flight

"I left my first real job in July 1936 after 4 years as a Junior Real Estate trainee in a Richmond (Victoria) Estate Agency - a job I hated. I had seen undreamed of squalor, deprivation and hardship during those four years in the inner Melbourne suburb, where the depression had hit hardest. Most men were on the dole and my lunch was often shared with a hungry kid in the park by the MCG.

I left to join the Victoria Police Force and with money raised by selling my bike, found my way to Bahgallah Road, Casterton where I stayed for about 10 days with Granny Hope. I had to return home to Melbourne before the 19th July, as I was due to be admitted to the Police Depot in St Kilda Road on my birthday, the 20th July. Aunt Jess told me about a local man named Reg Ansett, whom she knew well and who conducted a passenger service in and around the district. At the time he had opened up an Air service between Melbourne and Hamilton, using an old Fokker plane. It was suggested I return home on Mr Ansett's plane. It was my first flight and I will never forget it. There were 6 seats and I was the only passenger. For one and three quarter hours I froze. Cold? You wouldn't believe how cold it was in that plane without today's cabin comforts. And noisy!!!

The pilot was behind a small door just in front of me. At least I surmised as much, because I didn't see him, or anyone else for that matter.

I understand the Ansett Airline was established in mid February 1936 and I have often wondered how many people are alive today who travelled the Ansett way in the first six months of the airline's existence."

Prayer Written and Delivered by Noel Hope at the Hope Family Reunion in 1986:

"We beseech thee O Lord to look with favour upon this assembly and we humbly invoke Thy Blessing on all our activities, on all those here present and on those who through illness or age are unable to be with us today.

We give thanks for this day - for this opportunity to revive and reinforce our unity as a family, ever remembering that nature has implanted in each of us those sacred ties of kinship and common ancestry.

And today as we pause to remember our pioneering ancestors let each of us be mindful of the simple Christian faith that was to be their guide in all their daily pursuits, and was to serve as their refuge in times of hardship.

Help us O Lord that we may learn to follow more closely their example.

Amen."

In a letter dated 27/9/86 Noel retold a story that his brother Halbert told him: "Jack and Halbert were staying with Granny Hope at Bahgallah Road, Casterton. There was no ceiling in the lounge room (the sitting room) and the ceiling joists were exposed giving a good view of the tin roof above. Across two of these exposed timbers it was Grandfather's custom to rest a double barrel shotgun used for hunting rabbits and foxes of which there were plenty in the immediate vicinity. Jack, than aged about 12 years was curious about guns, and could not resist the urge to inspect this one more closely. So he climbed up on the nearest chair and brought it down while the grown-ups were chatting together in the backyard just outside the kitchen door. All of a sudden there was one almighty explosion, followed closely by another of similar magnitude and a shattering of timber and iron as the shots forced their way through the roof of the tiny cottage. If ever an afternoon visit was brought to a rapid conclusion it was on this day. The boys were lectured on safety, Grandpa was admonished for his carelessness, the dog and cats disappeared for 24 hours, and the ladies took 3 days to recover from the shock. Jack was about 74 when he died and always enjoyed telling the story against himself."

In his letter of March 1984, when Noel was 68 years old, he went on to say. "By the way Jess and I both paint Australian landscapes. Jess is probably the best river painter in Australia and that's no idle boast. She has a great local reputation and has won quite a few awards, but prefers to keep a low profile (and prices down as she sells mostly from home). We do quite well without pushing ourselves or our work."

Noel Hope died 16 September 1997 at Viewbank (Melbourne).

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Richmond Armstrong Hope (father)

Richmond Armstrong Hope (grandfather)

Thomas Hope (great grandfather)