As
Premier J.T. Lang lead Labor to power in the NSW parliament in 1925, many of his
social and economic reforms were lost on 23-year-old Armorel Davies (now
Jeffrey), pictured above, who had recently begun her training at Sydney
Hospital. The restoration of the 44-hour week meant little to the young nurse
who worked 12 hours a day, six days a week, went to lectures in her own time and
was paid 10 shillings a week.
"That was in first year," she recalls. "In second year we earned 15 shillings and third year, a pound. The resident medical officers got 30 shillings and we thought they were millionaires. My sister, who was a secretary, earned two pounds, but then again, our wages included accommodation and meals."
In the decade that witnessed the opening of Parliament House in Canberra, the Conniston massacre in which 31 Aboriginal people were killed in the Northern Territory and the first use of insulin to treat diabetics. It ended in the Great Depression, Nurse Davies' notebook recorded that her daily duties as a first year trainee were to "sweep floors, take temps and make beds".
"Housework really," she continues "we had to save all the tea leaves, wash them and throw them on the floors to collect the dust, so you had to be careful to sweep really well. The matron used to tell us we were lucky, because in her day, they had to scrub the floors." By second year, the nurses graduated to giving medicines and doing simple dressings but it wasn't until fourth year, after three years of practising on oranges that they were trusted to give injections.
Then, as now, the fear of infection was great - tuberculosis, typhoid and pneumonia were the killers and antibiotics were unheard of. With the 20/20 vision of hindsight, some treatments were mysterious and amusing - pneumonia sufferers had heavy linseed poultices placed on their chests. "God knows why, it was difficult enough for them to breathe without a great weight making it worse," she says. But nurses were trained not to question their superiors' judgement and they became accustomed to a strict routine and strong discipline.
"If you were very lucky you'd be allowed a late pass, which meant you could stay out till 11.30pm," she adds. "If you weren't back in time, you had to get the night sister to let you in and that was a great offence. Of course, there was a ground floor room with a window, which we all used to come in through to avoid the problem. One night, I'd been out with the acting superintendent and 1 was caught as I climbed in. The next morning 1 was dragged off to his office to be severely reprimanded. The matron was standing there looking grim and the poor chap didn't know where to look. Of course, he had been the one pushing me through the window."