When I, and others, write about the history of the Saints, we tend to focus on the players. The players are at the very heart of the Saints ethos; they are the driving force of the Club, but out there in the stands and on the terraces, in “the outer” are the supporters, the lifeblood of the Club.

When I began to write about the Saints, the players, and the Club, my intention was to tell stories about the Saints as I remembered them. Following some of my stories supporters and past players have contacted me to share their memories. In doing so they have enriched my Saints knowledge and given me a greater understanding of the meaning of being a “Saint for Life”.

This story is about some of these supporters. In the future I hope to be able to write stories about other legendary supporters, so would love to hear your stories too!

A couple of years ago I wrote about “Jackie Mac”, Jack McKenzie, following his passing. Jack had followed the Saints all his life. He stood on the same terrace at the Junction Oval with my father Bill Grant and his uncle and cousins the Boase clan. Alongside them stood the Caferella brothers, St Kilda greengrocers who lived and breathed the Saints. Invariably Ronnie Anderson also stood with them, another Saints fanatic. They all lived in or around Carlisle St and Camden St in East St Kilda, and they were at every game in the bleak fifties. Many of them are not with us now but their spirit still lives on in the stands at Docklands.

Up in the stand at Junction oval was the Boase boy’s brother in law, Jimma Bayliss, who would, on occasion, lose his false teeth into the milling crowd below as he reacted to some perceived injustice from umpire and opposition. It was not unusual to see the crowd make a space below Jimma for any such eventuality. Not far away in the stands sat my mother with her baby nursing and bottle feeding him as the game progressed. At 4 yrs of age that baby would progress to standing on the terraces at the feet of his father and the assembled fanatics.

Many of them formed connections within the Club. Bill Grant had been co-opted onto the 3rds committee by legendary Club man and supporter Len Stephenson another Camden St resident, number 41 if I remember rightly. Len’s wife Mel seemed to wash all the team jumpers, as her washing line was always full of the revered Red, Black and White. Although it’s hard to imagine now, she didn’t have a washing machine, and I don’t think anyone in the street did in the early fifties, so all things were washed in a boiling copper using a large pole to make sure the jumpers were “agitated”. This was back breaking work and she did it every week for the love of the Club. This was a Saints household through and through. Max their son went on to play a few games for the Saints and still follows them from his home in Adelaide. He is a Saint for life!

My writings over the last few years have brought these memories flooding back. Two of my greatest memories are my interactions as a child with Brian Gleeson and Neil Roberts. I have written of them before but they are important in understanding how these two legends of the Saints were seen by the supporters. We were not a successful Club but Brian and Neil had brought success to the Saints through their winning of the Brownlow medal. They had legitimised the Saints as an entity in the VFL. Many supporters had lost heart during the barren winters of the fifties but the arrival of Allan Killigrew combined with the success of Gleeson and Roberts had created a new energy in the Club. Leading that energy were the regular supporters on the terraces. That energy was to lead to our first and only Premiership.

I was taken into the rooms to meet Neil Roberts following my destruction of the radio following an assault on Roberts by legendary Footscray bad man Charlie Sutton. Confined to home with the measles, I was unable to contain myself as Sutton broke Neil Roberts’ nose. The new radiogram did not stand up to my 6 year old right hook. I don’t remember any severe punishment, and later when I had recovered from the spotty disease, Len Stephenson took me into the rooms to meet Neil Roberts who introduced me to meet many of the players explaining in some vivid detail how I had beaten up Charlie Sutton. This is an endearing memory that goes back over 50 yrs.

In 1957 Brian Gleeson won the Brownlow and Len Stephenson organised for me, as a mascot, to lead the Saints out hand in hand with Brian Gleeson in the night series. Again this is a memory that will never lose its shine. It was that memory that drove me to write my story titled “The Boy from Berrigan”, a tribute to Brian Gleeson.

There are so many stories about amazing Saints supporters it is impossible for them all to be told. Many people write to me to comment on my stories, offer advice or correct my memories and mistakes. I value them all. Many of them tell their own stories of life as a Saints supporter and I hope to be able to write about some. There are so many great Saints
characters out there. A long time Saints supporter Chris Robbins told me how he as a boy
stood near Lindsay Fox’s mother at the Junction Oval. Apparently she was never backward in her support for the Saints, and of course for her son, as he played his heart out. Those who remember will tell you that Lindsay may not have been blessed with enormous football talent, but he couldn’t be matched for heart. Undoubtedly this was a personal quality that held him in good stead in business.

There are numerous other supporters who have written to me. Some years ago I heard from Douglas Stewart who wrote to me regarding the series of stories I planned to write on players who have worn specific numbers at the Club. Douglas specifically wrote to discuss his teenage hero Jack Kelly who I have named in the “For the Love of the Jumper” Number 1 team. Jack also wore number 22 and 7 and Douglas was writing to check his memory of his great hero wearing the number 7.

Douglas and his father, a Real Estate Agent in Fitzroy Street, never missed a game in that era, until 1942 when Douglas went into military service. He spoke with some authority on Jack Kelly recalling him kicking a bag of goals at the Junction in one particular game.

Douglas remembered Sporting Globe writer Hec DeLacey criticising Kelly for not passing off to other players. Douglas had a lifetime of memories of his beloved Saints. His recollections of players he formed friendships with in the great 1939 side were very clear.

He had a very strong memory of the 1939 sides magnificent win in the first semi final when Kelly and Rayment on the wings dominated and Fountain and Garvin in the ruck put paid to the Tiger’s followers, led by Captain Blood Jack Dyer. These memories were like gold to an amateur Saints historian like me.

Douglas wrote about his passion for the Saints being matched by his daughter who maintained and added to the collection of memorabilia that Doug started after he returned from overseas service following the war. Based at Victoria Barracks until 1946, Douglas was a regular at Saints training and games armed with his camera and a love for photography. He began by taking photos at training and after showing some shots to committeemen Bob Wilkie and Sam Ramsay, he progressed to sitting on the boundary beside Coach Fred Froude taking shots at home games.

He wrote that his photo album compiled in that era was still kept by his daughter. I have not heard from Douglas for some years but I often think of the many Saints passionate supporters who have collected and maintained fantastic collections of memorabilia. I have been fortunate enough to see some collections. I never fail to be amazed at the passion supporters have in not only collecting this material but taking such pleasure in looking after it, and keeping it for following generations of family.

The Stewart family was obviously a Saints household. Douglas’s mother was a cousin of saints legend Wels Eicke, and like me, Doug as a baby was taken to every home game and bottle fed in the stands. Perhaps he and my father stood side by side on the terrace at the high point beside the race at some stage. I would like to think so.

I clearly remember Wels Eicke who seemed to have a real affinity with those blokes on the terraces as he was often there beside the fanatics engaged in earnest conversation about his beloved Saints. Wels was on the losing side in the debate about the shift from The Junction to Moorabbin, and this disengaged him from the Club at that crucial time in the mid sixties. He was an old man then and I was still at school but my memories were rekindled when Wels was admitted to the Saints Hall of Fame and his award was accepted by his grandson, also named Wels Eicke.

Many of these supporters who graced the terraces in the fifties are no longer with us but many, like Bill Grant, are following their beloved Saints through failing eyesight and the trials of old age. They and the many like them still follow the Saints as passionately as they did in the fifties. The terraces have now gone, replaced by comfortable lounge chairs but the Red, White and Black is prominent in their homes whether they be in Melbourne, Mornington, Queensland or overseas. I get quite a few emails from Sainters in far away lands.

C’mon Saints lets do it this year for the supporters who have followed you through thick and thin. Its time to reward the faithful supporters from the terraces. Go Saints this is our year. Do it for Bill, the Boase Clan, the spirit of Jimma Bayliss, the Cafarella boys, the Douglas’s out there and all the legendary supporters out there “on the terraces’ and by the way, do it for me!

GO SAINTS.

If you would like to contact Allan please send him an email to takeitforgranted@hotmail.com