THE MCDONALD BROTHERS
By Jenni Mitchell
[Above] Kevin, Ron & Allan McDonald, Digby, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2000)
The tiny township of Digby in Western Victoria is located approximately 400 kilometres from Melbourne and forty-five kilometres west of Hamilton, in the triangle between Portland, Casterton and Mt. Gambier in South Australia. With a population of 75, including those living on outlying farms, the casual observer could inadvertently mistake it for a ghost town.
My partner and I discovered Digby and the McDonald brothers by accident. We were searching rural Victoria for a quiet retreat away from Melbourne where we could paint and write. We could not afford a weekender; fashionably two hours drive from Melbourne. Digby is four. Our city commitments and responsibilities didn't allow us to move to the country on a permanent basis, and my Eltham studio is a good base from which to paint.
 
[Above Left] Main Street, Digby, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2001) [Above Right] Main Street, Digby, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2001)
We were attracted to Digby because of its remoteness and otherworld, old-world aspect. Digby looked as if the township and the surrounding land were asleep, or dreaming. Nothing seemed to move, or if it did, it moved at a very slow pace. It seemed a peaceful place to write without the noise and stimulus of the city. This was a gentle landscape, and, I suspected, it would be gentle on our psyches.
 
[Above Left] Main Street, Digby 2, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2001) [Above Right] Sunset, Digby, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2001)
We bought a tiny 1840s cottage at the edge of the Digby Township. For neighbours we have cattle and sheep whose warm bellows keep us company. There is a deer farm nearby and we are reminded of a European countryside with fields surrounded by tall pine trees. Our winter aspect is of green hills, misty valleys and billowing winter clouds, and, for summer, dry blonde grass swaying to the erratic flight of noisy corellas against a cobalt blue sky, with a rare dash of red-tailed black cockatoo.
Digby is a new landscape experience; a contrast to the places I usually paint such as the vast plains of the South Australian deserts where horizons are straight, the earth is red and the lakes are white salt sheets. Digby's green fleshy grass complements the spiky spears of low mulga scrub.
 
[Above Left] Digby landscape, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2001) [Above Right] Residents, Digby, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2002)
During the car journeys from Melbourne to Digby, I mentally paint large canvases of green hills, grey skies and rural scenes with grazing animals and overflowing dams. I wonder about how the land was before it was cleared. The earth looks rich and full of nutrients in comparison to the desert landscapes of the Mallee and Wimmera to the north. There is not much virgin bush remaining, despite attempts by governments to set aside state and conservation parks. Most of the land has been cleared for grazing or blue gum plantations, which is made into woodchip and shipped to Japan to be processed and sold back to Australia as paper. But that is another story…
[Above] Jenni Mitchell painting – Digby, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Mervyn Hannan, 2002)
Digby once supported a lively population of 500 residents, several stores, two pubs, a police station and a football team. There were schools and dances as well as nearby butter factories and timber mills to keep the residents employed.
Today, one hotel remains, and that serves as well as the post office and general store. There are two churches that open once or twice a month, depending on when a priest or minister can attend. When the railway line and the butter factories closed the exodus of young people and families from the region began and the town began to die.
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Needing to purchase timber for renovations on our cottage, we were directed to the McDonald's farm, a few kilometres out of Digby. Local knowledge assured, '... As long as you are not in a hurry. It's the best timber around.'
One Sunday afternoon we entered the McDonalds kitchen for the first of many visits. Three large, slightly stooped men, dressed in hardwearing work clothes and beaming shy open smiles welcomed us. They knew our cottage well and had supplied the previous owners with timber and sawdust for garden mulch, cow manure and firewood.
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We were struck by the ease with which the brothers interacted with each other; if one spoke the other could finish his sentence, their thought process as if from one mind. We gave our requirements in metres. Kevin pulled from his back pocket an old ready reckoner and converted our metric measurements into imperial figures before writing the order with stubby pencil on a scrap of paper.
'That will be all right,' he said. 'It'll be about six weeks, when we can cut some timber.' I was intrigued by the brother's use of language and their slow mannerisms. It was different to the quick and stress-animated pace of city society. I wanted to understand them; there was a sense about them of containment, self-assuredness, as if they were comfortable within themselves, and their life. As if life was 'alright' on the farm. Our timber would be ready when it was ready and I understood there would be no point in asking for it sooner. I wondered if they would allow me to photograph them. |
Jenni Mitchell, Ron, Allan and Kevin McDonald on the McDonald's farm. (Photo by Mervyn Hannan, 2002)
Like their parents, the brothers were born in Hamilton. Their father worked as a charcoal burner, and a timber cutter. In 1947, he bought 100 acres of forested land outside the small town of Digby. The family lived in a one-roomed cottage. Slowly, they cleared the land for grazing and sold the timber for firewood and milling.
Their father continued his work cutting timber and eventually built a mill on their property. Now, the farm has grown to 1300 acres. Since the parents have passed on, the brothers have remained, living together to run the mill and the farm.
Kevin, 68 and the eldest, was 11 years of age when the family moved to Digby. Kevin is a shy, slightly stooped man. The effects of the years of heavy manual labour are evident. His clean-shaven face is weathered; his eyes are heavy and look tired. He moves slowly, as if protecting his body from pain.
Ron, 62, appears to be content with the world and does not ask much from it, other than his pouch of tobacco from which he rolls his cigarettes. He is even trying to give up the few he smokes each day. His brothers gave up some time ago. They know smoking is not good for your health - and it makes you cough.
Alan, the youngest brother, is more outgoing and talkative. His many interests include: music - he has a collection of over 1,000 CDs, mostly country, classical and old time songs from the 1940s -1960s, including The Seekers, Rick & Fel Carey, Slim Dusty, Buddy Williams, Chad Morgan, Foster & Alan and Daniel O'Donnell. Alan is 'Not real rapt in modern music, it's not really singing,' he says, 'More or less yelling, these days, I reckon it is'. He has an enviable library of videos, which includes mostly music videos, wildlife, old Australian films, documentaries and country and western movies. He particularly likes the video he has about the Tamworth music festival, and would like to go there himself one day. Some of the videos have not been played.
[Above] Ron, Alan & Kevin McDonald in the Mill, Digby, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell 2000)
Alan collects novelty clocks with unusual sounds; he has one that makes a noise like a truck horn and one that sounds like a train; he has a singing fish and a singing crayfish that play recorded country music. Most purchases are made through mail order catalogues. The McDonalds don't use a computer or have access to the Internet for shopping, although, as Alan says, 'It sounds interesting, have seen it on television'. Alan is proud of his garden; particularly the dahlias, irises and orchids, many of which have been bought from specialist nurseries through mail order.
The McDonalds timber mill is a piece of the colonial past. When the brothers stop running it, a bit more of Australia's history will have gone. They say they cannot afford to employ or train anyone. 'The insurance is as high as it gets, costs too much for the premium because of the risk of accident on the machinery.
[Above] Kevin as Benchman. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2000)
These days, the McDonalds can only take timber from private property. 'That's going back to the mills that used to be around here; they've all closed down now.' Alan explains - 'Those bigger corporate mills bought all the logging rights, they got the first say of the logs in the state forests, and there was none left for the small mills, we don't have access to the forests now.' Trees the brothers fell are by permit and arrangement with the owners of the private land.
Before felling a tree, the McDonalds look for indicators that show whether it is suitable for milling. Messmate or stringybark is the common local hardwood. They look for a healthy crown and if the girth is a useable width. Kevin will hit the tree with the back of an axe and listen to the ring. 'If it's solid you can cut timber out of him, if it's one that is a bit iffy, you don't get much out of him - you may get only fence droppers out of it, that's all.'
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Once the tree is selected it is felled using a chain saw. The tree is docked off - topped and tailed - and cut into lengths that can be placed by front-end loader onto the truck and transported to the mill. It is slow work, and if the weather is bad, burdensome digging trucks out of a bog.
The McDonalds fell trees once a year; when the weather is suitable. Milling begins when enough logs have been collected. They don't take too much. As Kevin explains,' It's a waste, if not milled quickly, the logs will split and be unusable. Then it is only good for firewood'. |
[Above] The McDonald brothers & Mervyn Hannan & fallen tree Digby, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2002)
The mill machinery is old and the work slow. The brothers work together as if part of the machinery, automatic and skilful. There is no need for conversation, they know what they are doing, as if in a trance; the rhythm is hypnotic. The three dogs know the routine and know when to step out of the way, seemingly unperturbed by the screeching sound and spray of sawdust and wood chip fragments as they fly from the unguarded circular tungsten-tipped steel blade.
Kevin is the benchman, and usually, the benchman is boss. He keeps a record of the orders, and sets the machine to the required gauge. Ron and Allen sort the lengths at the other end of the bench as Kevin passes them through.
The builders had advised them to use pine and hardiplank for ease of construction and cost. The décor is a blend of old and new. A large sepia photograph of their mother hangs in the kitchen. There is a kookaburra porcelain electric kettle, a wood stove, soft white and grey Laminex bench tops, polished cork floors, an air-conditioner, microwave, television and a cuckoo clock. The large old cedar kitchen table with the turned legs has been resurfaced with a Laminex top to match the benches. A Coonara wood heater keeps the house warm. Two large colour photographs of the brothers at a cattle market hang on the wall beside two aerial photographs of the farm.
  
[Above Left to Right] Pound Cottage, Digby Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2001) Bull, Digby, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2001) Pound Cottage 2, Digby, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2001)
In our modern world, Digby is not isolated. Because of the ease of movement and fast vehicles, few people living in regional Victoria have not made the trip to their capital city of Melbourne. Many commute regularly for business, family or shopping. It is possible to make the return trip in one long day. It is more common to find city dwellers who have not ventured into regional Victoria.
The brothers each have a licence; but these days, Alan does most of the driving when they go to town to shop on Tuesdays. They drive the newish air-conditioned green four-wheel-drive Ford Raider to Casterton or Hamilton. There is a Ford Maverick Ute for general farm use as well as the logging vehicle and the ride-on mower.
It has been several years since their mother passed away at 86 years of age. 'Up until then, we did not do any cooking - mum did it all up to her death. I wonder now how she coped, by the time you do a few jobs, the day soon goes - she did a good job to keep up.'
Alan is the family history keeper. He files away pieces of family news and is a keen photographer. He laughs as he tells of his first camera and opening the back to see how the film winds on. He particularly likes to photograph the landscape. He produces a photograph of a five legged calf - 'It was born like that - it has a hoof and everything on it - only trouble, when it runs it sort of swings, and just about trips over. We still have it in the paddock ...'
 
[Above Left] Alan & Ron McDonald in cattle yard, Digby, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2001) [Above Right] Alan & Ron McDonald in cattle yard 2, Digby, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2001)
Weeks later we returned to collect our timber. We followed the brothers and their crazy dogs across the house paddock, past the cattle and up the hill to the timber mill. The mill is an open shed constructed between a stand of old and gnarled red gum trees. We were immediately transported into an Australian myth as we watched the brothers work the bench; as if from the pages of a history book. Fresh golden sawdust mounds carpeted the floor, providing soft resting possies for the dogs. The screeching noisy buzz of the saw didn't perturb the dogs, nor the fireworks spray of wood slithers spewing from the bench. Mountains of chaotically stacked off-cut lengths of timber were engulfing the shed in decorative colours from red, gold, silver and grey. Two neat pyramids of garden stakes were stacked nearby. One stack was ready to sell, the other awaiting Ron's skilful hand in point shaping. Blue wrens were hopping around the logs, and occasionally, a koala has been seen sitting around the old red gum tree.
On first seeing the brothers go about their work I had an overwhelming desire to record their activity. I sensed I was witness to a dying tradition of pioneering Australia.
My request to return to the mill with my camera and note pad was greeted with amusement. The brothers couldn't understand why anyone would be interested in recording their work.
To watch the McDonalds at work is to watch artists at ease with their work. The way they work and communicate, their sense of naturalness with a hint of innocence is refreshing. They are extraordinary people and yet, at the same time, the most ordinary.
The artist in me registered the compositional diagonal lines created by the chaotic timber stacks, the colour changes created by the age of the timbers, or how long ago they had been cut, bright fresh stipes of yellow and red changing down to the browns, greys and silver the longer it had been stored. The texture of the timbers changed too. There were close cuts, with blood red tears of sap oozing out of newly cut logs, open dry wounds of aged and crumbling timbers and mounds of dirty grey sawdust beneath freshly fallen light flakes.
  
[Above Left to Right] Allan and Ron McDonald in the mill, Digby, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2000) Stick sculpture waiting to be turned into tomato stakes – The McDonald’s Mill, Digby, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2000) The Splitting machine - the McDonald's Mill, Digby, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2000)
I wanted to watch the brothers fell a tree. This was difficult enough, watching an elegant tree being sized up for timber. I walked through the forest with the brothers as Kevin cast an experienced eye skywards to examine the crown of the trees. He looks for a healthy tree and taps the trunk to listen to the echo to gauge density and watch for hollows. He measures for girth and estimates the amount of timber executable for a particular order. Only the best trees are selected, ensuring fewer trees are taken to produce a higher yield of quality timber. This practise contrasts with the wasteful approach of the corporate forestry companies' practice of clear-felling large tracts of State Forest leaving the 'rubbish' timbers to be piled up and burnt, leaving ugly dark scars across the landscape. I feel ill for the tree as the chainsaw rips into its trunk and with a groan and a sharp crack it hits the ground, and the small branches bounce before settling. I feel like a hypocrite as I think of the timer in my house and the open fires I enjoy. Through the camera I record the process of the felling of a healthy gum tree and feel a mixture of conflicting emotions - the artist, the environmentalist and 'the realist'. I think of the reality of the McDonalds taking timber and the practice of the large corporations who clear-fell hundreds of acres in a single job lot.
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Back at the mill, the logs are milled in the same machinery their father used. The logs are first cut lengthwise into two or three lengths before being fed through the circular saw and cut to the required size. Usually Kevin and Ron operate the splitting machine, but when it is time to mill, all three are required and work as a team.
Each has his job. Kevin operates the gauge - he is the 'benchman' and usually, the benchman is the boss. He sets the machine to the required gauge and feeds the timber through the circular saw while Ronald and Alan lift the milled timber from the bench and stack it by size. One length of timber is milled at a time; a modern mill can cut several. |
[Above] Allan & Kevin McDonald. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2000)
When they are not working at the mill, mustering cattle or shearing sheep, the brothers have their own interests. Alan loves his garden and grows exotic bulbs and an impressive display of colourful dahlias and vegetables. Alan is also the family historian and meticulously files articles and memorabilia of family news. Kevin is good with figures and handles the business side of the farm. He has a blackboard covered in chalk marks and numbers that he alone understands. Ron is the mechanic and skilled with a chainsaw and tractors. To watch him at work one could believe he was born with it attached to his arm.
With a farm to run and timber to cut there has not been time for marriage or gallivanting around the country. 'Never been to Melbourne. 'I've been as far as Ballarat - years ago - but can't quite remember it'; he was four years of age. Each years on Mother's Day they took their mother on a drive travelling as far as Beachport, Warrnambool, the Twelve Apostles, Mortlake, and Dimboola.
The brothers agreed it would be interesting to see the city, but it had never really come up as an issue and had not thought of it. I wanted to bring them to town. I thought it would be fascinating to show them what they see on television and to give them the experience of walking through crowded streets. The 'Sunday Age' agreed to sponsor a trip whereby I could fly with them from Portland and they would spend the night in a hotel in Melbourne.
[Above] Allan, Ron & Kevin, Tullamarine Airport, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2001)
They were understandably hesitant about the whole journey. It was such a long way. How could they leave their dogs? They couldn't leave till the weather was safe; at least after the fire season had passed. Eventually they agreed to come with me and take their first flight in a plane, first ride in a lift, an escalator, and their first journey on a train and a tram. It was an experience for all of us.
The brothers had the new experience of seeing places they had only seen photographs of or seen in the media. They had the experience of eating in cafés and drinking cappuccino for the first time, eating pizza, and learning to walk city streets without being knocked over by the crowds that rushed at you like 'a mad mob of sheep'. And, as Alan correctly observed, 'It would take a lot of food to feed all these people.'
[Above] Kevin and Allan on the plane heading towards Melbourne. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2001)
Their first trip to Melbourne was short and it seemed no time at all before we were back on the plane to Portland. The brothers had had just a glimpse of Melbourne. They walked through the Casino and were dazzled by the bright lights, the zings of machines and the amount of money being tossed around. They viewed a silent patchwork of city blocks from the Rialto building, 55 floors above street level. They visited the Melbourne museum as well as taking afternoon tea at Parliament House with their local Member of Parliament, the Leader of the Opposition, Denis Napthine.
It was difficult to settle down for the McDonalds when they returned to the farm. Restlessness began to creep into their lives. I became concerned that I had done the wrong thing, taking the brothers away from their known world and placing them in a situation that they had only seen through the media and television. Mt. Gambier and Casterton didn't seem so large anymore.
  
[Above Left to Right] Ron McDonald’s first trip on a plane. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2001) Ron, Kevin and Allan McDonald and Acland Street cake shop, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2001) Alan, Ron & Kevin McDonald, Acland Street, St. Kilda, Victoria, Australia. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2001)
Locally, they became celebrities. After the 'Sunday Age' newspaper published my story of the brothers in Digby and the trip to Melbourne came the ABC's 'Australian Story' production. This time, the McDonalds flew to Melbourne and I met them at the airport. The brothers had flown alone, and survived. They were as excited as kids when they arrived; and this time, they had a week.
I drove them to stay with an aunty in Essendon. They had the opportunity to meet relatives and see a different part of Melbourne. It was wonderful to see the brothers experiencing Melbourne at a somewhat slower pace, even if for much of the time the ABC followed us around with their small film crew. The brothers were undaunted by the camera attention, they were natural and moved as if quite used to moving around being followed by camera and sound recordists.
My painting of Kevin, Ron and Alan is the first portrait I have made with more than one sitter. I could not imagine painting three separate portraits. Their lives are so entwined and they are genuinely compatible, so the separation would seem unnatural, even on canvas.
Over the week of sittings I began the painting by sitting the brothers together on three separate chairs. As the painting evolved I would give two of them a break while working one to one, as I do in my usual portrait painting practice.
[Above] Kevin, Ron and Allan sitting for Portrait in Jenni Mitchell’s studio. (Photo by Jenni Mitchell, 2001)
This gave me the opportunity to be with each brother one to one and it is in this space I am able to gain some insight into the personality that may not be present in a group situation. This can be a vulnerable place for both of us - as the painter, I reveal pieces of myself to the sitter as they reveal pieces of themselves to me. It just happens that way. For the background of the portrait I painted a night forest to help portray the sense of mystery I feel for their work and their lives as woodcutters.
It has been a couple of years since we met the McDonald brothers. We have become friends and enjoy sharing our lives. We bring them a bit of the city when we come to Digby, and they teach us about their local area.
For Mervyn and myself, living in Eltham and spending life in the whirl of making a career, studying and earning a living from the metropolis, it is a welcome space to travel into the psyche and spend time re-evaluating. In Digby, and with the McDonald brothers, we learn things will get done in good time, and isn't the sunset wonderful this evening, and how bright the stars look from the verandah.
Kevin, Ron and Alan come to visit our cottage and we talk about the rainfall, the dams, the drought and the land. We talk about new calves and the orchids growing in the forest, how many brolgas have visited lately, and if the red-tailed cockatoos have been around.
Not much has changed in their lives - they get a few more orders now, but nothing they cannot handle, people have just got to wait if they want timber cut by the McDonalds. One day, they will visit Melbourne again, and perhaps, even Tasmania. For now, at the McDonalds', life is best in Digby, and they would not swap it for anything.
About the Writer Jenni Mitchell
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Jenni Mitchell is best known as a painter of the Australian landscape and of Australian poets' portraits. She has traveled extensively throughout the inland regions of Australia, particularly the Flinders Ranges, Lake Eyre and Tibooburra. She is currently undertaking a Masters of Visual Art at Monash University in Victoria and is researching the visual similarities of the extreme desert landscapes of Lake Eyre and Antarctica. She has undertaken several field trips over a number of years to Lake Eyre and will be traveling to Antarctica during the Summer of 2002/03 as the Artist-In-Residence for the Australian Antarctic Division. Jenni's series of poets' portraits is another project involving historical documentation and since 1981, over ninety paintings have been completed. Portraits include such notable poets as Prof. A. D. Hope, Judith Wright, Les Murray, Dorothy Porter, Chris Wallace-Crabbe, and Geoffrey Dutton. The portraits are to remain together as a permanent collection. They have been loaned for various exhibitions including a six-month touring exhibition of Tasmania, and will continue to be exhibited in part or in total. Jenni has had more than 40 solo exhibitions throughout Australia, and has been included in many group exhibitions. Her works are represented in public and private collections in Australia, and overseas, including the USA, UK. and Japan. |
[Above] Photo of Jenni Mitchell by Lawrence, 1998.
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