Paddy Fitzgerald - Bootmaker par excellence

Often referred to as “Little Paddy Fitz”, Paddy Fitzgerald was a much-loved character in the district. He arrived in Proserpine in 1932, a single man of 25 years, and set about making a name for himself as the master bootmaker of his time.

To Paddy, boot repairing was not a job; it was an art. He would lovingly coax a damaged sole or upper, back to a state of new or near new condition, applying himself with dedication. His reputation was such that people came from other towns to have their favourite shoes repaired by Paddy.

Paddy’s original live-in workplace was a little shop adjoining Bob Eckel’s Saddlery in the old Dobbins building in Main Street. Paddy had his quarters at the back of the shop in this building and later also in 1953 when the Dobbins family built new brick shops (now Colour Me Crazy). Being in close proximity to the Prince of Wales and Palace Hotels where Paddy sometimes had his meals, there were times when the door of his shop remained closed during working hours.

But his shop always re-opened and Paddy would be there again, repairing shoes for next to nothing. “Aw, a shilling ’ll do” was his usual answer to enquiries about the cost of repairs and mostly, “It’ll be right” for his poorer clientele.

No job was too difficult for Paddy. He was a surgical bootmaker and would make shoes for crippled children. Like a good surgeon, his tools of trade and his hands worked as one. Residents of the time remembered seeing him with a mouthful of tacks, handling and hammering them into the soles. And they were fascinated watching him turn soft shoes inside out and stitching them from the inside. He made his own thread by twining three cotton threads into one and waxing them to make them waterproof.

Locals recalled the mountain of shoes and boots in various states of disrepair in Paddy’s shop and were mystified as to how he knew who the owners were. He would deftly step through the pile without even disturbing one of the cobwebs and retrieve the right one!

The sisters of the convent would always present Paddy with a challenge when asking him to repair their shoes which were always almost totally worn down. But Paddy worked his special brand of magic and would not accept payment. The convent children loved the errand of collecting the repaired shoes for if they weren’t ready - which was often – Paddy would dig out a sixpence from his pocket, tell them to go and buy an ice cream, then come back in half an hour at which time the shoes would always be finished.

Paddy’s shop was rarely empty. He could talk sports (rugby league in particular), local issues and politics. He was a good listener and rarely judged anyone. There was a box for visitors on either side of the front door where many an interesting yarn took place. When people left Paddy’s shop, they did so with a feeling of well-being – even if their shoes were still in the pile.

Paddy Fitzgerlad spent almost fifty years in the district. He died in Proserpine on February 20, 1980.

Paddy’s friends were many; his enemies few. He was indeed a genius in his trade and was from an era when pride in one’s work took precedence over money.  Proserpine’s history is richer because Paddy Fitzgerald is part of it.

Story and photo courtesy Proserpine Historical Museum.

Image:  (L-R) Jack Cassells, Alec (Knocky) Nicolson, Beryl  Nicolson and Paddy Fitzgerald - Taken outside the Prince of Wales Hotel

‍