Vale Peter Heywood
VALE SKEETER HEYWOOD
St Lawrence’s Barraba was full to overflowing on Friday (26 March) for the funeral of Peter George “Skeeter” HEYWOOD. They, young and old, from all walks of life, had come to pay their respects to a man who had become a local legend in his lifetime. Local Grazier and Stock and Station Agent, Howard Carter, gave the Eulogy. After Howard finished, the church, usually a quiet, solemn place, burst into applause. Howard kindly gave us permission to publish his tribute to Skeet in the “Barraba Community News”:
Two big things happened in 1930 – Phar Lap won the Melbourne Cup, and Peter George Heywood as born on the 6th of December 1930. He was one of eleven children, two girls and nine boys. Poor Mrs Heywood! It was the Great Depression and things were tough. Mrs Heywood made all their clothes out of old flour bags and other available materials. The children walked to school each day from “Nangarah” to Woodsreef School barefoot, like most of the others of that era.
Peter, known as “Skeeter”, later came from Woodsreef to Barraba School and started working on a dairy farm owned by his Uncle Clarrie Heywood – milking cows, mustering cattle and sheep – he would have been only 13 or14 years old. At the same time, he was also selling ice creams at the Café.
Later he became a bush worker – one of the famous Heywood brothers who could work, fight, and drink – and so the legend grew.
Skeet worked all around: at Moree “Marven Downs”, in the Horton valley “Box Forest”, at “Kingstown” near Bundarra, and “Nangarah” Woodsreef.
The Heywood reputation grew in the district. If you wanted a good hard worker, go to the Heywoods. They were tough men and for entertainment they would drink and fight. Christmas was one of those times they would fight to until the last man was standing. Mrs Heywood got very sick of this and she would lay down the law - no more fighting! So next Christmas they came up with another sport -digging post holes! That went very well until there was a “dig off” to sort out the last two – when they couldn’t decide who was the winner they fought.
Skeet has good mates – Dusty Taylor and Monty Russell and they all got a job at “Longarm”, about twelve miles out of Barraba. They rode their horses to work – it only took them three days to get there. They would start out full of grog, run out at around “Back Plain” and then go back to town for more – and so it went on until they eventually got there.
Skeet told me about a time when they went up to “Limrick”, a property on the Horton Falls road. They were shearing and Skeet was the roustabout. He said it was a dangerous shed – working there was Sandy Baker, Reg Potts, Ken (Shut Eye) Dennis, Pablo Heywood, Noel and Dick Doolan – and Skeet said none of them ever drunk water unless it was mixed with something. Pablo fell off the wool press and busted his nose. Sandy knocked himself out twice going into the catching pen which had a low door – he would duck as he went in and forgot to duck again coming out. The second time they brought him around with a bottle of rum – they drunk it and he smelt it. There was one hard and fast rule – they knocked off at 4 pm so they could catch Fred Flintstone on the telly.
Skeet had another good mate named Stan who he tried to teach to ride, but he failed – Stan could not ride a cart with the sides up. That was one of the big disappointments of his life. However, things picked up as he was soon to find his life partner. In 1967 Skeet and Eileen Fox found each other and lived together happily at Bundarra, Horton and finally in a home down near the Barraba Silos. Skeet’s stepson Richard is here today.
In 1968 Skeet saw the light and swore off the grog – he joined AA and never fell off the wagon. He still worked hard and the locals all knew him as a bloke you could stop and have a great yarn with.
After his retirement he became a local icon riding around town on his gofer, stopping, yarning, and storytelling in front of the shops where the women (Heather, Lyn, Toni and Sandra) would come out and serve him. He said to me one day “I get all the good sorts - if only I had been good looking, I would have been dangerous.” I said “Skeet, you were dangerous enough.”
Skeet really appreciated everything people did for him – like Christmases with John and Lyn Taylor, and Phillip and Debby Shapter. In 2023 Skeet went into Garvin House and, by all accounts he enjoyed his time there with all the wonderful staff – and they enjoyed having him there too. This didn’t stop him from making his trips downtown on his scooter to entertain the locals. While he was in Garvin House I imagine he looked out over those hills to the east and it took him back to his days when he threw a mattock into the ground all those years ago. He loved the bush and being a bushman and probably loved the fact that he didn’t have to do it anymore.
Skeet saw a Gypsy who read his palm once, she wore a veil – he was not really all that interested in the reading but he thought she was not a bad sort. She said he would live to ninety two and he beat that by two years. However, when she removed the veil he decided she was not that good looking after all.
I guess in summary God gave Skeet a life and he never wasted it. There are a million stories as he was very well thought of – a popular local legend. He had one secret though that he took to his grave, and it’s about how he broke his nose. He would never say.
The strongest thing I could say about Peter George Heywood is that he is the end of a generation and with his passing goes a lot of our local history. People like the Heywood brothers gave this country its identity – they were hardworking fair dinkum people.
Skeet you were a Fair Dinkum Australian.