Melbourne was a staid and dignified city in Australia back in 1947 when I was 15, and attending a well known Anglican private school, not far from the city centre. This city is the capital of the state of Victoria, situated on Port Phillip Bay in the south-east corner of the continent. It is famous as it is the only city in Australia still boasting an extensive tramways system servicing many of the suburbs. The main southern thoroughfare into the city proper is St. Kilda Road, an extremely wide and pleasant access into the heart of Melbourne. It is divided into three carriageways by two raised plantations, which in those days were of huge old gracious Elm Trees surrounded by rich green lawns. Along the central and widest of the three carriageways ran the trams, which came into St. Kilda Road from the spur roads leading from the various southern suburbs. Along this broad and beautiful boulevade my school was located, right in close to the city.
In those days the Church private schools of various denominations ( then, all of them for boys only) were the acme of the education system and served as a sort of exclusive conclave of prestige and eminence. They were all of them based on the Great Public Schools of England such as Eton, Harrow and Winchester. Discipline was savage and The Cane the pre-eminent instrument of enforcing it. As well as The Headmaster and junior Masters, prefects - senior boys of 17 and 18 - were empowered to administer The Cane upon the seat of a bending boy's taughtened trousers. No longer the case now, but then in the full bloom of flowering.
This "conclave" of prestigious schools held an annual combined sports day at some public oval big enough for such an event. Along with the others, my school had a holiday so that all boys could go along and cheer for the school. In 1947 the Combined Sports were held at the St. Kilda Football Ground. It coincided with a general strike of tram drivers and conductors. A stopwork meeting was held at St. Kilda and towards the end of the day there was a heap of abandoned trams causing a monumental traffic jam in St. Kilda Road. A group of bored boys from various schools, not very interested in the sports events, decided some fun was necessary. I was one of those boys. The group decided without a great deal of concern for the consequences, to steal a tram and drive it into the city. In a wild dash to the nearest tram which was situated with access to the city, we raced to get to the drivers cab and the controls first. The drivers cab was really only big enough for two and possibly three people to enter, so the race was on. I lost out and the cab was filled to capacity and more, so I boarded the passenger section with many other excited boys with not a thought of the inevitable danger to all of our bottoms.
Nowadays there are modern trams on the lines and the driver sits comfortably before a control board with buttons and with foot pedals operating power and brakes. The trams when I was at school had a sort of handle which was turned to apply power to the wheels and a separate handle to operate the braking system. In a panic to avoid capture by any astute crewmember the power handle was turned full on. The wheels screamed as they spun in the metal rails and it was a wonder a fuse somewhere did not blow. The tram careered off at full speed, disregarding traffic lights and headed helter-skelter for the city. It had to stop at the first major intersection and boys flew out of it in all directions, by now very conscious of an anticipatory tingle in their bottoms. The police however, were waiting for just this to happen and most of us were rounded up and names taken.
For myself, the following day was perhaps the worst I ever spent at school. I arrived with an extremely strong tingle where it was important. My Father the previous night had roared at me but said he was content to let the Headmaster decide what was best to do, but if I was merely expelled it would definitely mean a short and agonising trip to the woodshed, naked below the waist and carrying his heavy razor-strop with which I already had a close affinity. Strangely enough, I was the only culprit from my school, which made it worse still.
The Headmaster called a special assembly to announce to the school the shocking episode of the day before and that, I being involved I was guilty of grossly letting down the whole school, but as I was not one of ringleaders (fortunately ? well, I was not sure of that !), he was prepared to not consider expulsion - but ! I was to receive 12 of the best to be administered after assembly by the Head Prefect. I have often wondered since if the Headmaster, who must have been in his 60s, considered his arm not now strong enough to apply full force for so many strokes, whereas the Head Prefect at 18 was as fit as a young man of that age could be.
Canings in my day were always applied on the seat of a boy's trousers, but after assembly, down in the shower room where there was plenty of room, I was ordered by the Head Prefect to change out of my trousers and underpants into just gym shorts, they were of cotton and very thin and short. Two other prefects were present and I was told they would hold me down if that became necessary. When I had changed, and my bottom by this time was quivering with extreme expectation, the Head Prefect pulled out the waist of my shorts to check my bottom was naked beneath them then ordered me to the end of the shower room, and there to spread my legs well apart and bend over and grip my ankles. His two assistants were standing each side of me. He himself walked to the other end of the room with The Cane. He asked me was I ready and I muttered yes, eyes tight shut and trying to clench my buttocks as much as my spread legs would allow. The Head Prefect launched himself like a fast bowler at the cricket crease and flew down the room, Cane raised as high as possible. Taking a mighty leap he brought The Cane down with a tremendous crack on my very thin, tight shorts.
At first I was aware only of the impact which almost toppled me over forwards, then maybe a second later the pain screamed across my bottom crescendoing to an unbearable climax in the next second which followed. I was no stoic concerned with my reputation, I leapt yelling to my feet hands clawing at the agony in my bottom and dancing around the shower room howling anguish. Thereafter of course, the Head Prefect's assistants held me down and I need not go any further into the trauma of that experience but at the end of it I was on the point of fainting, blood was trickling down my bare thighs and I was ordered to take a shower. After showering I was ordered to present myself at the Head Prefect's study room where he had several cronies in to watch, and I had to take down my trousers and underpants to display his handiwork. That handiwork lasted just on a month.