Steve the Butcher / Bus Driver / Great Bloke
Story by Algernon, photo courtesy of the RTA’s 251-252 bus timetable
We moved here around 18 years ago. Familiarizing ourselves with our new environs we came across a butchers shop being run by a couple slightly younger than us. In the early 90’s butcher shops outside shopping centres or strip shops in the suburbs were becoming rarer and rarer. The couple recently bought the family business and not long after the recession we had to have had hit. What impressed me was the quality of the meat and foods on display. One Saturday we took Algernon Junior who would have been about 12 months old to buy some meat for the weekend.
I like my food and always look for the quality rather than the quantity. The couple had both been chefs at City restaurants combined their skills with the family trade and produced a wonderful array of goods. They cured their own hams and have won prizes including firsts for their hams, sausages and other goods at the Sydney Royal Easter Show.
Steve the butcher offered Algernon Junior on this trip a piece of ham, which he woofed down and a friendship developed from that time. Steve offered small pieces of ham to all the kids who entered the shop and well as the adults. Since then we’ve bought ham for Christmas to share with the family. Junior recalled this marketing in his HSC years and this small offering as being one of his earliest memories.
Some years later they moved down the road to a small shopping precinct called Midway. They bought out the butchers who where there a butchers shop one wonders how it ever survived. It rarely looked to have anyone there. Their claim to fame seemed to be chicken boilers!
Steve could be called upon to supply our local primary school for snags for our fireworks night at a good rate. His kids didn’t ever go to the school. In fact he’d supply all the local schools for their fetes, father’s day BBQ’s or even election days. Saturday Netball at Meadowbank the Lions club would be cooking his snags. The local football clubs the same.
About three years ago Steve took up a new career bus driving, it’s a natural progression. He still worked in the shop two days a week. The bugger cut me off on a couple of time a roundabout when picking up one of the Algernoninas. That usually met with mock indignation the next time I saw him.
For Steve good food, family and friends were important things in life as well as sharing those things with others. Too much sport was also barely enough to quote the great HG and Roy.
On the 6th of April, Steve suffered a massive heart attack and died. On the 12th Mrs Algernon and I had the privilege of attending his funeral with some 500 others from all parts of our local community. Whilst a sad occasion, there was much to laugh about as we recalled collectively his life and the way that he’d touched us. One of those was Steve being chosen to adorn the 251-252 Sydney Buses timetable, such a handsome bugger.
That evening Mrs Algernon, Algernonia the younger and I attended the Sydney Royal Easter Show Arts Preview where Algernonia is an exhibitor. She went close to a ribbon though the thrill of being hung is satisfaction for her. Of course they feed and water you as well.
As for Steve’s wife Ann, well she’s out the front of the store talking with people clearly comforted by the concern and love shown by the community. Rest in Peace, Steve it’s a privilege to have called you a friend.
Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle 
Steve the Butcher means a lot to me as story because now I live in a rural town I know the butchers. The proprietor’s grandfather was the butcher before the son and the now grandson. They wear the aprons, butcher the carcase, nothing comes prepackaged other than for the addicts a freezer full of prepackaged fish and such like I as yet have seen nobody buy. They flourish butcher’s paper, take pride in the quality of their meat, the clean management of the shop and are invested in the work they do. They remind me how Karl Marx said there was something of a worker left in every product.
When I was a small child I learned to read the sign in the butcher’s shop in Gordonvale with its sawdust strewn floor and central wood chopping block. “Please do not expectorate in a public place.”
I am very moved by the sentiment of your article, Algernon.
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I spoke with Ann for the first time since the funeral when I walked into the shop the other day. A big hug and thoughts of Steve. Shes overwhelmed by the support and felt that Steve would have been blown away by the turn out. she copes well during the day but the nights are hard. Their son isn’t taking it well but the daughter is being able to talk things through.
Butchers outside supermarkets nowadays are a rare breed, but where they are there is a strong sence of community.
There was an obitury in the local paper. A rare honour indeed and for one so young.
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Algernon! How wonderful to see a post of yours. I have not time to read it for now and I am way behind in my reading on the Arms. All things being favourable, I will have a squiz before the week is out.
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Very touching story Algy. Thank you for sharing this experience.
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My brother John had given up smoking many years before he died. He was a giant of a man over 6ft7″ but loved going to the fridge and get the salami out. He would not just have a slice, no, his pen knife would come out of his pocket and cut huge hunks of the saltpeter cured wurst-sausage.
He would then open a packet of biscuits and eat the lot, to just add to the joy of it all… and his cholesterol.
He had bad varicose veins and didn’t take his aspirin as regularly as he should have. The aspirin thins blood. He and his twin sons, giants as well, left one morning to ‘screw on roofs’ as he always joked. They were all roof builders. He stopped in front of the job, looked up to the roof they were working on, said to his boys, “I feel a bit crook.” He sat on the curbside and died just like that.
The next day, his wife had to choose caskets and flower arrangements. She was also asked, “your husband was very good looking, wasn’t he”, “would you like us to dress him in his best suit?”
Oh, that walk to the wardrobe for his grey suit.
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We had a neighbour like that, she waved from the ambulance after a heart attack and a few hours later her daughter knocked on the door to say she had died a couple of hours later. A real shock. That family recalled a similar tale regarding her “best” suit.
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Sounds like a great loss to the community, I mean, Steve’s death. There always seems to be a bloke, or a family, in every community like Steve. They’re often under appreciated when they’re alive, but bloody well missed when they’re gone!
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That they had 500 when the family was expecting a lot less than that is a testament to that.
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What I should have added was BIG congratulations to young Alernonia for her artistic success. Often the the really good things in life come so hard on the heels of the bad, that we fail to really appreciate them!
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There is always that Big M, When my mother died we had the death, funeral and Algernon juniors baptism in the one week. The loss of one and the the new life of another has always been with me.
As for Algernonia the younger shes been exhibiting since she was 9 I think and has been hung every year. Three years back she managed a 3rd place ribbon as well as being part of the winners exhibition in town. She was non plussed her parents over the moon. Shes looking at graphic art as a career.
A few years ago i got notice from Mrs A that my father in law had died (in WA). I moped around one of my clients offices that day, The client was having a go-kart day out at Eastern Creek and invited me to go. It was a great pick me up and the father in law would have approved.
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Congrats on having an artist in the family. All power to her arm.
Some clients are gold, aren’t they, Algy. I have (in nearly thirty years consulting) two clients who look after me when life is a struggle. The best thing they do is recognise that I am not a machine and I have family responsibilities to fit into my days as well. They are cheerful, optimistic and flexible about overlapping assignments. And they pay on time because they know what it’s like to be a small operation trying to maintain some kind of cash flow. I bend over backwards for them when they really need it – and they do the same in return. Bless both of them.
The worst client I ever had was, if you can believe this, a government department engaged in the welfare sector, who strung me out 80 days. Nearly sent us to the wall – and chewed almost all my savings until the payment came in. I had to threaten them with a complaint to the minister via my local member. Seven years ago. Never been back. Never going back. They can well and truly get stuffed. And for an agency supposed to be delivering welfare, they are appalling. As an aside, the dude who was unintentionally screwing me (he was simply incompetent) got testicular cancer in one of the ‘nads and had to have that half the complement lightened. Strengthened my belief in karma.
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They are Emm, my consultancy has take a backseat for the moment, and I now have a job in the public sector. An eye opener given I’ve worked in the private all my life. Truly great people to work with but I don’t find the work that stimulating. I took the job at a real crisis last year. The same client really looked after me at that time and I’ve had a certain amount of guilt for leaving them to take this position. We parted on very good terms. The taking of the job has been very good for me. giving me time to reassess things and has been a benefit on the home front.
I’ve started doing a small amount of consultancy work on the side and theres a good chance of going back to it possibly next year, And that particular client well they very happy that I can help them again.
The worst client I had thought it OK to wait 8 months to pay me and then over 8 weeks in installments. We were talking $4k. I found out he treated his staff that way with petty cash or allowances for travelling away. Nice enough bloke just couldn’t run a business where people were concerned.
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Algernon, you wrote an interesting article at PA about having a depressed teenager in the family. My youngest was diagnosed with depression last year, but has improved to the point that the psychologist doesn’t want to see him again. At the worst of it I thought back to your story which made me realise that I wasn’t alone, and that things could have been much worse.
He’s quite artistic, so I’ve been trying to get him to draw something for PA but he tells me he’s not that good! He’s been in a design team that won an award which involved building a small, eco-friendly house, which now lives at the school. Likewise I’ve been trying to get him to write a little essay about but he tells me that any ning-nong can design a house. They’re bloody frustrating, aren’t they?
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Big M, your son sounds like mine, she doesn’t realise how good she actually is. And frustrating would be an understatement. She attends art classes once a week. It was the golden hour in her week when she was at her worst, yet her teacher recognises her imense talent. We toyed with idea of sending her to a selective arts high school but decided that a comprehensive education would be better. It is slowly dawning on her that she is in the top 3-5 in her year in VA and how far in front she is of the others. Encourage your son, we’re a very supportive community here. Its not a question of being “good enough” more the having a go. Funny I thought much the same as your son before I submitted that piece here.
She was an exceptional swimmer as well, could have gone a long way. Gave it up, after the little deadshits around her told her she was wasting her time. All just to fit in with a group. She gave that lot up and found another who support her, however the swimming has gone.
Good to here the psychologist doesn’t want to see him again. Thats were we all want to get to. Daughter is at monthly visits and well on the way to that goal. Hopefully before Christmas.
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Thanks for the feedback. The Pig’s Arms IS a very supportive community. I had never in my life let anyone read any of the fiction I’d ever written. I must say, we’re in with some big hitters, but, as you say, it’s not a comp, more like a friendly chat around the bar!
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Congratulations on your first story for the Pigs’ Arms, Algernon (at least, it’s the first of yours I seem to remember reading…) It’s just a pity it had to be such a sad one.
I suppose your friend had to die young; he was just too good for this world. My condolences to Mrs Steve and the Stevelings too… and of course, to yourself.
🙂
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Thank You Cynicure, actually its my third. The death was the sadness. His life was as a happy one.
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To be able to have it said at one’s funeral that one’s life was a happy one, Algernon, is perhaps the best that any of us can hope for… I hope this thought may take some of the sting out of the loss.
😐
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… and now that you mention it I do seem to remember even commenting on the other two… dear oh dear; I think my memory’s going!
😐
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The Algernons, Algerninis and Algeronias, should have a family doo with The Hadrons. You know as they do in Tasmania.
Typical of you lefties: writing nioce things about your friends── and the dead!
😉
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You’re not suggesting that the Algernons have two head are you Vectis?
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No! God forbid, Algy.
Not in real life anyway. A fake moniker can disguise a number of personalities though 😉
———————————–
You know; what’s good about your story above, is that it is a satisfaction putting those thoughts down somewhere. And here is a good place. You have done something a little extra for your pal-and his family.
Cheers.
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“it is a satisfaction putting those thoughts down somewhere. And here is a good place. You have done something a little extra for your pal-and his family.”
I think you’re right VL… Algernon, you have enabled Steve to touch the hearts even of people who never had the pleasure of meeting him… that must mean something to someone…
😉
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Steve’s got a classic basin and lip rat there. He sounds like a great bloke and he looks too happy to have gone so soon. What was it?
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A dodgy jam, Waz.
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The teeth were great too. I suspect that everyone thought the same. He died after a heart attack. He’d had a pace maker fitted at 40 ans was only 47.
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It’s always sad when you loose friends who are younger than you, Gerard’s brother was fifty two when he died, other two good mates passed away too early from lung cancer, being heavy smokers…
The good ones die young, as they say.
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I’m suprised how many die of heart attacks in their 40’s. Steve was 47.
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Now, that is a very nice article. Personal and very touching. Over 500 at Steve’s goodbye, that must have been a good wake. Hope it wasn’t the sausages! 🙂
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It was a good funeral if thats not too black. The were expecting maybe 200 and 500 turned up. Two busloads of bus drivers and the like, not bad for three years of work Not a snag in site at the wake I’m afraid, standard fare at the crematorium. Don’t think the cheif chef at the siver grill was involved though.
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I hope ‘It wasn’t the sausages that killed him?’ I was just being a bit flippant. I know my brother died too young also and he had a penchant for cured meats, especially salami. His Chinese plumber friend (Richard) turned up at his funeral and said seriously,” that bloody salami ‘ killed him ,”you know”.
His wife,Jenny, had the task of arranging his casket. She chose the laminated Birch Eye maple model called ‘Calvary’, with plastic chrome handles. The funeral people come with all those catalogues and coloured photographs of coffins and flower pieces etc. Of course, the wife just breaks out in sobbing and heart rending heavings at her great loss so suddenly. But, choices have to be made and this funeral man just kept saying at each tearful sob., ” oh yes’ Jenny, these are terrible times”, just terrible times”…, but what do you think of this Chrysanthemum arrangement?
It goes with the job.
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I recall when my mother died, she was 56, having to go to choose the casket, It remined me of a book I’d studied at school and had been made into a movie. I dealt with the after the death experience within the funeral home. That was set in California though I cant remeber its name , something like “the Loved ones”. We sat and listened to his speal on all these coffins. The bloke sounded like the book and what I’d recalled the movie. I can’t recall what we chose as she was being cremated so it wasn’t one of the deluxe models. The one thing though they thought they were running the show at the funeral and lacked tact at times.
Steves funeral was tastefully done, with the funeral directors very much where they needed to be at the appropriate time.
As for one sausage too many we’ll never know.
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Yes, the book was the Loved One by Evelyn Waugh. Similar experience with my Dad. He was 60. I’m 58 this year. I’d like to say that I’m comfortable with the juxtaposition of these two ideas. But I’d be fibbing.
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