This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com THE FOLKLORE OF

WESTERN AUSTRALIA

1 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com

The Folklore of

Western Australia

Edited by

Marc Glasby

This copy compiled : March 2020

2 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com CONTENTS

Introduction

Golden road! Adams & Flinders Twice lucky Marry me! Or Else! Hoodwinked! Spirit of the goldfields Nuclear explosion earthquake or meteor Sophisticated Tom Suspicious drowning Horse whipped! Eye Eye Sir! Poisoned flour Dying to be together Sawn off shop The ship comes Inn A tale of two apples Secret Chinese 'herbs and spices' Down the well Dodgy damper Icy cold Teacher gets a lesson Bubbly bath Blood donor gives a little bit more Murder most foul Red Dog Baby boom Tribal feud Moonlight dip at Marble Bar Marble Bar Old MacDonald Publican's problem Town with no beer! New Chum’s luck Ghost! A terrible thirst Industrial sabotage Not a ‘Fair Cop’ 'Sleeping' crocs The story of Darcy Avon River Monster Unsolved murder A load of bull The first major mining disaster

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Pearl Divers in the Goldfields Fear of Finnerty The exploding toilet of Ah Sim The Mad 8 Ghost on the Pinjarra bridge The saddest tale of all Murdered for gold Pommie John and the Submarine Liquid lunch All at sea in an esky Cat uses all nine lives Irish Rebels escape! Murder at the town hall Fremantle Doctor The Cursed Pearl Japanese raids on Broome and Diamond Jack Seven point kick Falling Stones of Mayanup The Alkimos Drop Bear Min Min Lights Hoop Snakes & Trip Snakes Was C Y O'Connor 'sung' to death The Cockie Farmer Cooked Parrot The Eucla Nymph Lost Dutch Settlement in outback Australia The Legend of Russian Jack Moondyne Joe Before the Catalpa Funniest poem ever written North - South rivalry Secession No Rationing in Three Springs Perth station 1926 Gold fever Misery's Trek John Aspinall Beer Strike Wagon master at ten A tragic story of love and murder from the Goldfields Donnybrook slaying Pretty Boy no longer pretty Camping out - for three years! No fishing on Sunday Evening Switching on celebration ends with a bang! The Plane Truth Tennis - Everyone's favourite game in prison

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A life-long vigil Alcohol poisoning Cacker Alley Rules for teachers 1872 The hazards of the bush A tale from Brunswick Junction Amorous Abdul and Lovely Lily The Sandfire Sleazy Sleeveless Shirt Club What a bastard of a place to die Other stories from Whim Creek Good enough So you think working conditions these days are bad Alcohol the cure all and picky hospitals Joe and the Governess When the winnings ran out The White Divers of Broome Turning a blind eye The Old Broome dies A Pig of a deal Tasty 'Maggots' Weird Law A Letter Shot in Self Defence John's Diary Two Minutes Silence A Wing and a Prayer Lang Lost Dutch Settlement Merde! Railway troubles Fire and Water Boulder Bombs On The run Sly Grog Shop Nannup Tiger Stud Ram Pays a Visit They Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To Buried Treasure Giant Lettered Sheds On The run (The whole story) Beaten To The Punch Sinking Illiterate Pigs Beware School Days Police Prank Fast First Aid Happy Workers Getting the Right Result

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Local lothario gets his comeuppance Child Abuse Kangaroo Hunting Shinplaster Murder at the Inn The Crow and the Gold Mother of the North A tribute to Mukinbudin A Rare Drop The Last Dance Accusational Kangaroo Memorable Sunday Service

6 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com Introduction

Western Australia has a rich and varied folklore but if you have read any books on Australian folklore you would barely be aware of it.

Most books written about Australia and Australian history tend to focus on the eastern states and W.A. is invariably forgotten. We are one third of the Australian land mass but in the eyes of 'tothersiders' Australia ends on the eastern side of the W.A. border.

While I read through uncountable numbers of history books looking for information for wanowandthen.com, I quite often find little snippets of information that are funny or interesting but don't quite fit into the usual historical narrative. Few people will ever find them as they are buried deep in thick volumes that hardly anyone reads.

I always felt that it was a shame that nobody would ever hear these stories and that is where I got the idea for this book.

This is an attempt to set the record straight and to put down as much of our folklore as I can collect.

I operate a Facebook page at : https://www.facebook.com/WestAustralianFolklore where you can add to the growing collection and I will then include the story in this book for everyone to share.

Our folklore is a combination of true stories, funny stories and outright leg-pulling. It can include prose and poetic verse but as long as it is about Western Australia then it will find a home here.

Please contribute by adding to the stories we already have and let the eastern states know that W.A. has a folklore history too!

WE ARE MAKING THIS BOOK AVAILABLE FREE DURING THE CURRENT CRISIS

If you find yourself stuck inside without much to do during the current virus crisis, we hope you might enjoy reading through this book and maybe get a laugh or two from the stories.

There is nothing better than a bit of humour during tough times and Aussies are famous for their sense of humour.

If you enjoy this book you might consider making a donation to our favourite charity, The Royal Flying Doctor Service.

https://www.flyingdoctor.org.au/support-us/donate/

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Golden road! Some years ago (quite a few in fact) road works were being conducted in Guildford after the railway line had been constructed and quartz was being used as the road base.

After some heavy rain the lumps of quartz started to come through the road surface and one day when a cart wheel struck and dislodged a piece of quartz, a sharp eyed youngster spotted the glint of gold.

He decided to try and find the origin of the quartz and after an extensive search discovered that it was supposed to have come from a quarry near Greenmount.

Even after careful examination over the years, no seam of gold has ever been found at the quarry and the origin of the gold laden quartz remains a mystery.

Adams & Flinders In the 1920s a Dr. Adams and Charles Flinders were the town Justices of The Peace at Wyndham. For some reason they hated each other and one afternoon after drinking at the local hotel they had an all out brawl in the main street.

The constable had no choice but to arrest them and they spent the night in the lock-up. Next morning it was decided (as there were no other JPs in town) that they would each preside over the other and impose a nominal fine on each other.

Adams was the first to preside, fining Flinders five shillings. Adams then replaced Flinders in the dock, but Flinders imposed a fine of ten pounds stating; "There's far too much of this sort of thing, this is the second case of this kind this morning." Their relationship went from bad to worse.

This story inspired me to write the following bush ballad :

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Adams and Flinders

Up in old Port Wyndham back in the early days a tale is told about two men who wouldn't mend their ways

Adams hated Flinders they were the town's JPs They'd love to lock each other up then throw away the keys

One hot and dusty afternoon while drinking in the pub insults turned to punches over some imagined snub

Out into the street they went with flailing legs and arms The cops came down and locked them up before they came to harm

Then in the morning sobered up there was one fact to face Each would sit in judgement upon the other's case

Well Adams was the first to sit upon the other's crime The gavel fell, the judgement was a mere five shilling fine

Then Flinders turn to sit arrived He donned his wig and frowned 'There's too much of this thing about the fine will be ten pounds'

We don't know how it went from there or how the story ends but one thing we can bet for sure they'd never be good friends

(c) 2000

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Twice lucky. Paddy Hannan (famous for one of the major gold discoveries in Western Australia) may have been just a footnote in history if he didn't have just a little luck on his side.

At the same time Paddy had set off to register a claim on the land he and his mates had found gold on, another man was travelling in the same area and was getting very short of food.

After setting up camp he took out his rifle to go hunting and after some searching he levelled his sights on what he took to be an emu coming through the scrub.

To give himself a better chance of bagging the bird he let it come closer and it was only at the last minute he realised that the 'emu' was in fact a man, a man that turned out to be Paddy Hannan!

Paddy Hannan

Plane crash & glider club. In November 1919 Norman Hicks brought a small aeroplane to Pingelly and offered joy flights over the area for a fee. Local children were given the day off from school and unable to contain their excitement surged onto the landing area as the plane was coming in with some paying passengers aboard.

Norman brought the nose of the plane up to avoid the children but failed to clear overhead lines resulting in a sudden end to the joy flights. Luckily no one was injured but the plane was badly damaged.

The accident didn't seem to put the locals off the thought of flying as a glider club was formed some 10 years later. The glider was locally constructed and was launched by means of an elastic rope.

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When the rope finally wore out the glider was towed aloft with a motor car. Eventually the glider crashed and was too badly damaged to be repaired and its remains were said to be stored away somewhere in someone's shed.

Marry me! Or Else! An English immigrant was working as a farm hand for a local farmer and eventually asked the farmer for permission to marry his daughter. The proposal was rejected and the farm hand then menaced the farmer's daughter with a gun. She managed to talk him out of doing anything silly but he returned later with a stolen rifle and began firing into the farm house. The farmer's daughter returned fire while the farmer went to Southern Cross for help.

Eventually the farm hand gave up and stole a car at gunpoint. On his way back from Southern Cross with a 'posse' the farmer spotted the farm hand driving the stolen vehicle and opened fire killing him instantly.

Hoodwinked! 1. At one time foot races were popular in Sandstone and punters made bets on the outcome with prize money being awarded to the winner.

One day a stranger arrived in town and got wind of the races. He wanted to join in but was seen to be quite a poor runner. The locals, who were fond of a practical joke persuaded him to wear a pair of blinkers (like those worn by horses) to keep him pointed in the right direction. The local runners were persuaded to let him win a couple of practise sessions while wearing the blinkers in the hope that they could get him to wear them during the real race meeting. After ‘winning’ the practise rounds the new chum duly entered the races and the locals gathered in great numbers to see the show.

On race day fantastic odds were offered for the ‘blinkered’ runner but none of the locals were keen on laying a bet. An old bushy put on a pound (a large sum for the day) and when the competitors walked out, sure enough, the new chum had his blinkers on.

The crowd applauded and cheered to see such a sight but when it was time for the race to start off came the blinkers and the new chum said ‘Now I will show you how to run’. He won every race that day and along with his ‘bushy’ friend cleaned out the bookmakers before departing quickly on the next stage out of town.

2. Some time later a couple of odd characters arrived in town. One small and spindly wearing a suit some sizes too big, another tall man wearing a suit some sizes too small.

The large man was very fond of a drink but became aggressive and picked fights with the locals every time he got drunk. Trouble was he lost every fight getting a complete thrashing into the bargain. It was said that even a 60 year old gave him a hiding on one occasion.

Each time he sobered up he was very apologetic and meek. Without the booze inside him he was a complete gentleman but each time he got drunk he would pick another fight and take another beating.

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This went on for some days before he singled out the largest of the locals and tried to goad him into yet another brawl. The local man would have none of it until the stranger wagered five pounds that he could take him. The fight took place with the usual results and the next day the stranger went round to apologise asking for the return of his money as he had been drunk and was not responsible for his actions the night before.

Surprisingly the local man agreed but warned him that should it happen again he would not return any money.

Of course as soon as he was ‘in his cups’ the stranger sought out the local again and challenged him to yet another fight. This time he was waving a fist full of notes and so it was agreed to arrange a fight for the next day.

The locals gathered and bets were placed on the outcome. The small stranger, who had kept a low profile, placed a number of bets on his large companion and soon it was time for the fight to begin.

It was all over almost as soon as it started but this time it was the big stranger who was the victor. After collecting his winnings he sought out each man who had given him a hiding and returned the favour two fold – all except the 60 year old who he congratulated on his ‘pluck’.

The two left town with bulging wallets and some time later it was found that the big man was a professional boxer from the east and his small mate was his trainer.

Spirit of the goldfields. A woman and her 3 children arrived in Sandstone on an old rickety cart being pulled by a worn out old horse. There was a wrapped bundle in the back of the cart that turned out to be the woman's dead husband.

The family had fallen on hard times and the husband had been so ill he could not work. The woman found what work she could but there was never enough money. They had decided to head for the coast hoping that with better conditions the man's health would improve.

As they made their way west they were helped by other travellers who gave them what food and water they had to spare but the man died before the family reached the coast and now the woman and her three children were destitute.

Arrangements were made in Sandstone for the man's burial and the 'hat' was passed around, as it usually was on such occasions, to raise money to pay for the burial. There was a small amount left over which was given to the woman.

As the family was now to be sent to the coast they had no further need for the old horse and cart so an auction was held. It was sold for 12 pounds, but then its new owner decided he had no use for it and it was put up for sale again. The next 'owner' paid 10 pounds but he too decided the rig was not for him and again the horse and cart were put up for sale. This happened until over 100 pounds had been paid and the rig was eventually given to an old prospector who thought he could use the horse but not the old cart.

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In the true spirit of the goldfields, all the money from these various 'sales' was handed over to the widow and her children.

Nuclear explosion, earthquake or meteor? 180km north east of Leonora is Banjawarn Station, a 1 million acre property on the edge of the desert.

On May 28th 1993 a seismic event was recorded in this area that coincided with reports of a fireball in the sky. The disturbance was 170 times larger than any man made explosion recorded in Australia.

It transpired that the station had been purchased in 1993 by the doomsday cult, Aum Shinrikyo; infamous for the sarin gas attack on the Tokyo subway in 1995. Later investigation found that sheep on the property had been exposed to sarin gas and that traces still remained in the soil. There seems little doubt that the station had been used to experiment and prepare for the attack on Tokyo.

There was speculation that the fireball and seismic disturbance may have been the first atomic explosion carried out by non-government forces, in this case by an extreme terrorist group. Aum Shinrikyo were known to have recruited two Russian nuclear scientists and had been involved with mining uranium (there is a deposit on the station) so it is not too far a stretch to imagine that they may have attempted to set off a nuclear explosion.

Other explanations for this event have included a meteor bursting apart in the atmosphere (as there is no evidence of a ground strike) or an earthquake of around 3.6 magnitude.

Any investigation into the event was not carried out until years after it had happened so no definitive answer has ever been found.

Read more about the Aum presence in W.A. At http://www.fas.org/irp/congress/1995_rpt/aum/part06.htm

Sophisticated Tom Tom Doyle was a publican in Kanowna and although quite rich was somewhat unsophisticated. When he took his new bride on honeymoon to Melbourne he was asked by the Manager if he required the bridal chamber. Tom replied that his new wife may require the chamber but he was happy to 'piss out the window'.

Back home in Kanowna a dignitary was making a speech when Tom encountered olives in vinegar for the first time. In the middle of the speech Tom jumped up and shouted out that 'someone has pissed in the gooseberries.'

Suspicious drowning. In October 1933 a Greek man was drowned in Lake Dumbleyung in what some locals suspected to be foul play.

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Peter Kosta vanished and besides his neatly folded clothes by the lake and a set of footprints leading to the waters edge, no other sign of him could be found.

Locals had a number of theories about the disappearance but it was not until 1944 that Harry Wann, walking along the dry lake bed, came across human remains. Although it could never be confirmed, it was presumed that the bones belonged to Peter Kosta.

Horse whipped! Road board elections for the Wellington district in 1873 were the catalyst for an ongoing feud to boil over.

Dr. Lovegrove and Mr. Carey were standing against one another and at one point they clashed in the street.

Lovegrove attacked Carey with a horse whip and as a result people voted Carey on to the board.

Lovegrove was charged and brought before a Perth magistrate who gave him a mere hour in gaol and a 25 pound fine.

Eye Eye Sir! A local character in the Capel area was one Denny Connell who was thought to be a bit eccentric.

On one occasion he was blowing out stumps with gelignite and lost an eye. Without mentioning it to anyone he walked to Bunbury for medical care.

Later after visiting a doctor and being told to take a dose of medicine in water, he waded into the Capel River to take each dose.

On yet another occasion he was travelling to Perth by train and lost his much loved hat out the window. Unperturbed he marked a cross in the dust on the glass proclaiming that he would now know where to find it on the return journey.

Poisoned flour John Death (an appropriate name as it turns out) worked for Joshua Edwards and had a small shack where he kept his belongings.

On a number of occasions his hut was raided by Aborigines while he was away and flour, tea, tobacco and the like were taken.

Death placed a sign in front of his hut stating 'NOTICE. POISON FLOUR MEAL' and he even informed the local policeman that he had the strychnine laced flour to get rid of wild dogs.

Of course the inevitable happened and the Aborigines - who could not read the sign - stole the flour and a young child died as a result.

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Death was charged over the matter but no records can be found to shed light on the outcome of the case.

Death drowned in Gingin Brook in 1872.

Dying to be together. In 1942 Mrs. Lindsay, who was living in Popanyinning, suddenly passed away from a heart attack. Her husband, who was working in Bindoon, died on the same day of the same cause.

The two hearses, bringing the departed to Pingelly to be identified, arrived outside the police station at exactly the same time.

Sawn off shop. When Mr. Spragg built the first store in Popanyinning (1904) he sited it in an area he thought may be flood prone so it was built on stilts.

When the railway came through the surveyors informed him that he had to move the shop which he did, relocating some short distance west.

As there had been no floods he built the new shop with firm footings with the idea that it would be there permanently. The surveyors, however, had other ideas.

Some time later when the main road was being put through the surveyors again informed Mr. Spragg that his shop was 3 feet too far forward.

Fed up with having to continually shift the store, Mr. Spragg simply got a saw and cut off the front 3 feet of the building.

The ship comes Inn A cyclone in 1866 drove the ship New Perseverance high up on to the land near Cossack.

An enterprising local (Augustus Seubert) decided not to let the hull go to waste and cut holes in the side and opened The Ship's Inn, the first pub in town.

A tale of two apples. The Granny Smith apple (like so many other new varieties of fruit) seems to have been a happy accident with Maria Ann Sherwood-Smith developing the first apples from an apple core that was thrown away and the seeds then germinating - or so the story goes.

The new variety of apples were first popular in N.S.W. and their arrival in Donnybrook also seems to have come about by chance. A Mr. Chapman was dealing with a nursery in N.S.W. and as part of a consignment he was sent a couple of the new apples trees to try out.

The trees did well in Donnybrook and the green apples they produced were good for both cooking

15 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com and eating. The apples were first known locally as Champan's Late. Cuttings were taken and grafted to other apple trees, the Parke brothers brought in a further 175 trees from N.S.W. and soon the Granny Smith apple came to dominate apple production in the area.

The apple that was really developed in the Donnybrook area is the less well known Lady Williams. This is a red apple that again seems to have come about by accident when a seed germinated and came up near a water tank. The tree was almost killed twice - even being pulled out of the ground on one occasion. The Williams family persisted with the tree and gradually developed a new type of apple from the original sapling.

Secret Chinese 'herbs and spices'. The Chinese cook at Bidgemia (Ah Lee) was constantly teased and tormented by the other station hands. They played practical jokes on him all the time and generally made his life miserable.

Eventually Ah Lee had enough of the teasing and threatened to put poison in the stew. The teasing continued unabated and all of a sudden there were a lot of sick station hands.

On another station (Mingenoo) another Chinese cook (Ah Sam) told his workmates he was going to use poison and go to heaven. No one believed him either and Ah Sam died in 1893 by his own hand aged just 31. He is buried on the station.

Down the well. In 1978, three year old Julie Styles fell through the rotten wooden cover of a well on the family property. She was being looked after for the day by her aunt, 62 year old Mona Styles.

Mona jumped down the well after the child but was then trapped 28 feet down. Julie’s sister, Robyn (5 years old) was the only other person around and Mona asked her to phone for help. She was unable to work out how to use the phone and Mona was left clinging to a pipe in the well while trying to support Julie.

After an hour in the cold water Mona’s hands were going numb but luckily Julie’s parents arrived home in time and a rescue was affected with a length of rope. Very soon afterward, Robyn was taught how to use a phone…

Dodgy damper. On one occasion while Dom Savado was exploring the area around New Nocia, he had a couple of Aborigines with him as assistants. The small party had run out of water but had a plentiful supply of flour, sugar and tea. Before pitching camp for the day Dom Savado instructed the two men to go in one direction while he went in another to look for water. Dom Savado searched for some time without success and returned to camp to find his two assistants had started a camp-fire and were cooking damper.

When the damper was cooked and the three men had all eaten, Dom Savado asked if there was any tea. The men replied that they had not found water, so Dom Savado asked how they had managed to make the damper.

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One of the men simply scooped some flour into his mouth and began to mix it with his spittle. Ejecting the mass of flour into his had he said, 'That way make 'em damper.'

Icy cold. The train transported gold from Meekatharra and the security guards were always locked in to the hot stuffy rail car. One day they had a bottle of whiskey with them and asked the train guard for some ice. He returned soon afterward with a nice cool lump. It melted quickly as they consumed the alcohol so they asked for more. This went on until the bottle was almost empty and when they asked again the guard replied: “Sorry lads, I can’t give you any more, the body is beginning to show.”

Teacher gets a lesson. Conversation over the School of the Air radio between a teacher and a student:

Teacher: ‘A drover was droving 14 cattle down the Canning Stock Route for one week. During that time 6 calves were born. How many cattle were there at the end?’

Student: ‘Nineteen, miss’

Teacher: ‘No think again’

Student: ‘Nineteen, miss…’

Teacher: ‘No, 14 cows plus 6 calves make 20.’

Student: ‘Yes miss but when droving the allowance for the drover’s tucker is one cow a week and they had been on the track for a week miss…’

Bubbly bath. It was said there was a barmaid on the Murchison gold fields who was offered 25 gold sovereigns to strip naked and take a bath in a tub of champagne. She took up the challenge and two dozen bottles of fine Champagne were emptied in to a tub where she took her bath in full view of the gaping miners.

When she had finished it was decided to put the Champagne back into bottles as it is well known that fine Champagne does not go flat quickly and after all who wanted to waste so much good booze.

The only problem was that when the wine was put back in to the 24 bottles there was still enough left over to fill an extra bottle.

(We seriously doubt the authenticity of this tale although we did find a second well told version in the book 'Great Southern Memories' by J.A. Genoni.)

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Blood donor gives a little bit more There is a story about a young teenage girl having an accident with a cool drink bottle and cutting herself badly. She was in need of a blood transfusion and a local donor was found and brought in to supply the blood.

As the girl was receiving the transfusion and being stitched up she started to giggle and behave in a most unusual way for someone who had just been injured.

The transfusion over, the donor returned from whence he had come - the local pub - and the girl was not only left to get over the injuries she had sustained, she had to get over her first hangover as well.

Murder most foul. Victor McCaskell, his wife and baby had a farm about 14 miles from Bruce Rock back in 1930. Helping on the farm was a young worker called Billy Halbert.

McCaskell complained to his neighbours about Billy's behaviour and had apparently talked about firing him only to be threatened by Halbert afterwards.

On December 30th 1930 Jack Rae (a neighbour) saw Victor running through the paddock towards him carrying a small bundle. As he got closer Rae was horrified to see that it was Victor's baby covered in blood.

McCaskell said that he had finally had enough of Halbert and had told him to finish up what work he had to do and then leave the farm. McCaskell had gone off to complete his daily tasks and had returned in the afternoon to find his wife and baby dead and Halbert hanging from the front porch in an apparent suicide.

The police began an investigation and slowly it looked like things just didn't add up.

During the autopsy it was found that Halbert was already in an advanced stage of rigor mortis but that McCaskell's wife and baby were not. Very strange as Halbert was supposed to have died AFTER them.

It was also noted that the rope mark around Halbert's neck formed a complete circle, as if he had been strangled rather than hung.

When the police examined the rope, they found that if Halbert had had it around his neck he could have stood on the veranda with six inches of slack rope to spare. Lastly they also found that the box he was supposed to have stood on and kicked away was too heavy to have been moved in such a manner.

Another neighbour stated that he had visited McCaskell's farm the afternoon of the murders and found Halbert lying dead on the porch but there was no sign of a rope around his neck.

McCaskell was kept under watch by the police in the local hotel but as time progressed he became more and more agitated.

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Finally he made a break for it and took off in a car towards his farm. The police gave chase but couldn't keep up and McCaskell reached the farm first. Abandoning his car McCaskell ran away on foot behind a hay stack and as the police gave chase again there was a violent explosion from the far side of the stack.

McCaskell had apparently hidden a stick of TNT in the hay and now that the game was up, he put it in his mouth and lit the fuse!

A fitting end for an evil man. The motive? Just money. McCaskell had taken out a two thousand pound life insurance policy on his wife two months earlier.

The Coroner recorded that McCaskell committed the murders while he was insane but the cold calculated way he set Halbert up, strangled him and then waited several more hours before brutally slaying his own wife and child show that the murders were in fact anything but a spur of the moment act of insanity.

Red Dog Red Dog, as he came to be known started his life with the name 'Tally Ho' which in typical Australian style was quickly shortened to just Tally.

He started out in Paraburdoo and was born sometime in 1971. The family who originally owned him moved to Dampier and it was here the the legend of Red Dog really started.

Until reaching Dampier Red Dog was just another Kelpie, Cattle Dog cross. He showed signs of his wanderlust early in life but once he reached Dampier his travels really started to reach epic proportions.

Red Dog took to travelling on the local buses. He made friends with one of the local bus drivers but was said to have become very distraught when the driver was later killed in a vehicle accident. Some say the Red Dog spent the rest of his days looking for his lost friend.

How many of Red Dogs antics are folk lore and how many actually happened we will probably never know but it is said that he would board a vehicle and refuse to get off until it took him exactly where he wanted to go.

His eating habits were less than savory causing him to break smelly wind regularly. In the enclosed confines of various vehicles this must have been a testing time for the other occupants.

Red haired people in Australia are often called 'Blue' and so it was that Red Dog also picked up the nickname 'Blue'. It was at Dampier Salt that he got this name and it was this location that he chose to make his home base.

Red Dog was adopted by the workforce at Dampier Salt and they saw to it he was correctly registered with the local council and they tended his wounds after his numerous fights and scrapes.

Not everyone was a fan of Red Dog and on one occasion he was found with two bullet wounds in a back leg. He was taken all the way to Port Hedland for treatment and the trip eventually cost quite a

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His travels are said to have taken him as far afield as Perth and Sandfire but in 1979 his journey came to an end when he picked up a poison bait and eventually had to be humanely put to sleep.

A memorial was erected to the memory of Red Dog and his statue still stands today on a hill overlooking the town.

Red Dog not only has the memorial in Dampier to remind us of his travels but in 2011 the movie 'Red Dog' was released to celebrate one of the Pilbara's most memorable and unique characters.

Baby boom The railway from Wiluna to Mullewa was famous for its lack of promptness. One story concerns a lady and a conductor:

Lady: ‘When will we arrive? I must get to Wiluna as soon as possible, I’m pregnant.”

Conductor: ‘Madam I am surprised you boarded the train in that condition.”

Lady: “When I boarded the train I wasn’t in this condition!”

Perhaps this is just folklore but word has it that a camel train once beat the steam train on a journey between the two towns.

Tribal feud. At Easter time in 1847, troopers at the barracks in Kojonup woke one morning to find 300 or so Aborigines surrounding the building armed with spears. When they got within about a hundred yards of the barracks they stopped and sat down. Three of their number approached the building and

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Corporal Norrish grabbed his musket and advanced on them. After a short confrontation the Aborigines retreated and it appeared that they were looking for two natives, Bimbert and his brother ‘George’.

The group returned around two weeks later and found Bimbert and George’s wife and child near the barracks. They were promptly speared, Bimbert five times and George’s wife speared about thirteen times (two spears actually went through her child as well). Troopers advanced on the scene after hearing the commotion and the large group of Aborigines started to move off. At this point George arrived and on seeing the condition of his brother, his wife and his child he flew into a berserk rage. The troopers fearing that the large group would make quick work of George followed him out but arrived to find George in his fury had speared three warriors and driven the rest away.

Not much hope was held for the recovery of Bimbert or George’s wife, but recover they did. Bimbert lived until 1898.

Moonlight dip at Marble Bar There is a legend that if a woman with a warm heart swims in the river pool at Marble Bar during a moonlit night, her heart will turn cold but her body will become as beautiful as that of Psyche.

There seems to be something about Marble Bar that inspires those who have been there to write about it. Not everything is complimentary but not all is negative as the following couple of bush ballads show:

Marble Bar

I know the town that God forgot It’s Marble Bar The coolest drinks are always hot At Marble Bar The place affects you with a thirst You drink until you nearly burst And life is a thing accursed At Marble Bar

The sweat teems from you, in a flood At marble Bar Spit ere it lands, turns into mud At Marble Bar The flies are bad without a doubt So thick they shut the sunlight out You have to grope your way about At Marble Bar

Strange insects mark you down as prey At Marble Bar You get no peace by night or day At Marble Bar

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They buzz and hum and crawl and creep And if your sanity you’d keep Under a net you’ve got to sleep At Marble Bar

A blistered, blasted, burnt up hole Is Marble Bar The sky above – a barren scroll O’er Marble Bar Set in a barren broken range Hades would make a pleasant change From Marble Bar

Annon. Published in The Westralian Worker.

A slightly different view was taken by the next bush balladeer who had obviously seen the preceding poem.

Marble Bar

You boast about your city, Perth But Marble Bar Is the only spot that’s Heaven on Earth Sweet Marble Bar Where pleasantly the moments flow And gentle breezes softly blow And strenuous work is quite ‘de-trop’ At Marble Bar

Our hardest work is only play At Marble Bar We yarn to pass the time away At Marble Bar Or else we laze beneath the shade Like Omar with some dusky maid Near Marble Bar

We rise – well not before the sun At Marble Bar And count the day as well begun At Marble Bar If we can score a beer or gin In payment for the tales we spin To strangers who have wandered in To Marble Bar

And then we show the strangers round

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At Marble Bar And talk of minerals that abound Near Marble Bar We strive to interest them, and so We show them where the nuggets grow And reefs that hold the gold below Near Marble Bar

Oh blessing on this sun kissed spot Dear Marble Bar For the wants of life are easily got At Marble Bar At parting cash in massive piles From tourists whom the North beguiles It beats all other towns by miles Does marble Bar

Annon.

The following was apparently seen in the Ironclad Hotel.

I was born black When I'm cold I'm black When I'm scared I'm black When I'm sunburned I'm black When I'm sick I'm black and when I die I'm still black

You were born white When you're cold you're blue When you're scared you're yellow When you're sunburned you're red When you're sick you're green and when you die you go grey and you've got the hide to call ME coloured.

Old MacDonald Mac (Mr. MacDonald) was known to be a wee bit canny when it came to parting with 'brass'. He was said to have sold the local publican two Christmas turkeys that were later found to have come from the pub's own poultry run.

On another occasion a traveller stayed with Mac for a few hours to rest his horse. When it came time to leave the reins could not be found. Mac was most sympathetic and offered to sell the traveller his 'spare set' and it was not until later that night that the traveller realised he had bought his own reins.

Mac was credited with having the first car in town (a model T Ford) and ran a sort of taxi service.

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On one run he stopped at Bruce Rock on the way back to Corrigin to refuel. Somehow he managed to put in turpentine by mistake and on the way home flames shot out of the exhaust pipe terrifying his passenger. "It won't catch us!" Mac said and put his foot down on the accelerator. Mac, the car and his passenger all made the trip in one piece.

Bush towns seem to have had their fair share of practical jokers over the years. Perhaps it was just a good way of relieving the boredom.

At a dance one evening where mothers left their babies in prams outside in the cool evening air, some wag switched a couple of the youngsters and it wasn't until the very surprised mothers got home that they found their children had 'changed sex'.

Another incident involved a visiting horse and cart. The owner was occupied (possibly imbibing at the local hotel) and emerged some time later to find the horse had been moved to the other side of a fence, the carts shafts had been put through the fence and the horse re-attached.

One local (Mr. Lindsay) woke one morning to find he had a zebra. Someone had painted black stripes on his white horse.

Publican's problem. Billy Cock once owned the Agnew Hotel but he was too fond of sampling his own wares and soon found himself deep in debt.

Eventually in despair, he went to the edge of a mine shaft, shot himself and fell in. His body was finally located and he had to be fished out with a grapnel.

His wake was held at the hotel where Billy was laid out on a corrugated iron sheet while the last of his grog was finished up.

Funeral goers even shook his hand to congratulate him on such a good wake but Billy was by now well past caring.

Billy's brother, Tommy, took over the pub but seems to have done little better financially than the late Billy.

Town with no beer! A shortage of beer in town (one of the greatest tragedies to befall any community) prompted Charles Truslove to write about it. Following is the first verse of his ballad. We take it from the poem that Mullewa should be pronounced Mulle-war.

When Mullewa ran short of beer.

Don't talk to me of hardships on the fighting fields of France and all the things that happened at the war There's something I will tell you that you haven't heard perchance

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of the suffering that they had in Mullewa Tis a thing to be remembered plant it firmly inn your mind We'll never see the like again I fear And in the distant future years in history books we'll find the day that Mullewa ran short of beer.

New Chum’s luck. Mickey the Priest (who was no Priest at all) was a ‘new chum’ on the goldfields near Lake Austin and used to constantly pester the old timers about where he could find gold. Eventually they got tired of his continual questions and they pointed out a rocky outcrop that was known to be barren and told him to try there.

Mickey didn’t have the tools to break up the rocky outcrop so instead he sank a drive next to the reef. Imagine the surprise of the old timers when Mickey struck a rich lode that he eventually sold to an English consortium for a good price.

Even with that bit of good luck Mickey was not wise with his good fortune and was seen some time later working for wages at Sandstone.

Ghost! The ghost of a murdered man was said to haunt the railway yard at Mount Magnet and the story of his murder is as follows:

A stranger arrived in town by train looking for French Maggie. She was living in a building at the end of the railway yard with two male ‘friends’.

A violent argument was heard coming from the house and the next morning Maggie and her companions quickly left town.

Some months later the stranger’s body was found at the bottom of an abandoned shaft of the New Chum Mine.

A terrible thirst. When a local miner was banned from the Mount Magnet pub he became desperate, so desperate for a drink in fact, that he cut off a section of broom stick, wrapped it in red gelignite paper, put in a fuse, lit the fuse and tossed it through the bar window. The drinkers all fled the bar only to return after some time when there was no explosion, to find their glasses were all empty.

Industrial sabotage. The first wheat stripper brought into W.A. by Major Irwin was not initially successful as it was used on unripe crops. Later when tried on a fully ripe crop it proved to be worth while as it stripped and threshed the wheat in one action.

Farm workers saw this new-fangled contraption as a threat and the following season when it was

25 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com brought out to strip a crop the 180 pound comb had ‘mysteriously’ vanished.

When George Whittfield brought another machine over in 1845 it was said that he slept beside it with a loaded gun.

Not a ‘Fair Cop’ Native Constable James Betts was bringing in an Aboriginal prisoner when he decided he needed to have a sleep. In order to make sure his prisoner did not escape, Betts handcuffed the prisoner to him while he slept. Seeing his big chance to escape the prisoner picked up a rock, knocked Betts unconscious and the searched his pockets for the key and escaped into the bush.

'Sleeping' crocs. When Queen Elizabeth II and the Duke of Edinburgh visited Kununurra on a tour of inspection, the locals thoughtfully shot two large salt water crocodiles and laid them out so that the Royal couple could see some of the local wildlife 'sunning' themselves on the river bank.

The story of Darcy Before the advent of the flying doctor, life in the outback was very precarious and a fall from a horse could cost you your life. In the early hours of 28th July 1917, a buggy clattered into the isolated Kimberley town of Halls Creek carrying a young stock-man named Jimmy Darcy who had been thrown from his horse while mustering on Ruby Plains Station the day before and was in agonising pain.

Halls Creek's only link with the outside world was a single telegraph line to Derby and from there to Perth. Sending a telegram back then was not a simple matter with a number of repeater stations along the 2283 miles of line that stretched from Halls Creek to Perth. The message had to be copied down and re-sent by a series of operators and the same for any returning message. This caused frustrating delays and was hardly suitable for relaying messages during an actual operation.

Darcy's brothers had been in Wyndham and when they were told of their brother's injuries they rode 80 hours to get to Halls Creek and be by his side.

The Halls Creek postmaster, F.W. Tuckett, was known to his few neighbours as "W.B.L.". which stood for "Whole Blooming Lot", as well as proficient in duties as a telegraphist was resident magistrate, registrar of births, deaths and marriages, commissioner of roads, warden and protector of Aborigines and was the only man with any medical knowledge. He gave the stockman his only injection of morphine and called Derby by Morse. Derby's doctor was away on a lugger and was not expected back for weeks. In desperation, Tuckett raised Perth and asked the G.P.O. to bring Dr. Holland to the telegraph-room. With an operator transmitting his questions and translating replies, Dr Holland questioned Tuckett. From Tuckett's description of Darcy's symptoms he diagnosed a ruptured urethra with consequent stoppage of the bladder. Unless an operation was performed quickly, he said, the stock-man would die.

Although he had no anaesthetic, no disinfectant other than Condy's crystals and no surgical instruments, Tuckett decided to operate.

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Willing assistants sharpened and boiled razors and penknives, scrubbed an office table and placed it near the telegraph set.

Tuckett keyed his set: "Ready"

The Morse sounder in the little post-office started to click out Dr. Holland's distant first instructions. Tuckett listened and made his first incision with a razor.

After carefully following telegraphed instructions, he completed the operation at about 4 p.m., almost 36 hours after Darcy had been thrown from his horse. Two more operations were necessary but Darcy was getting weaker by the day.

Dr. Holland boarded the first available ship for Derby and six days later set out for Halls Creek. He took just a day and a half to reach Fitzroy Crossing. A phone line connected the two towns and Holland raised Tuckett to see how Darcy was going. He even spoke to the stock-man and told him he was on his way.

From Fitzroy Crossing the road became little more than a track. The car used to carry the doctor broke down several times and it took 6 days to get to Halls Creek.

Dr. Holland arrived just one day too late, Darcy had died the day before the Doctor arrived.

Tragically, the young stockman had not died of his injury or the effects of Tuckett's surgery. Before he fell from his horse he had not fully recovered from a bout of malaria and as he lay in Halls Creek, the fever returned with fatal virility.

Dr. Holland performed an autopsy and reported that the operation had been faultless.

Darcy's funeral service was a simple one, read from a book called 'The Bushman's Companion' written by Rev. John Flynn.

Darcy's grave can still be seen in the small cemetery behind Halls Creek Lodge. The ruins of the old post office where the operation took place, still stand only a few hundred yards from the grave.

On its own Darcy's story is just one of many similar instances of people suffering and dying in the remote and unforgiving outback, but Darcy's plight was widely reported by the news papers and is credited with being the inspiration for the creation of the Flying Doctor Service by John Flynn.

Flynn arranged for two nurses (Sisters Madigan and Rogasch) to be stationed at Halls Creek in 1918 under the auspices of the Australian Inland Mission. The 'temporary' hospital that they operated from was a small run down structure built in the 1880s and originally used as a mechanics institute. This 'temporary' hospital was to remain in service for at least the next 30 years.

Avon River Monster. For some time there were rumours of some sort of creature living in the Avon River. Some sightings were reported with one woman saying it looked somewhat like an alligator. Many people kept an

27 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com eye out over the ensuing months but no evidence was ever found to suggest what it might have been.

Unsolved murder. On the morning of January 13th 1885 the badly beaten bodies of Thomas Anketell (Manager) and Henry Burrup (Clerk) were found at the recently constructed Union Bank (this was a different building to the one that exists today and was in a different location.) in Roebourne.

The sloppy investigation and lack of attention to these murders by the authorities led to claims that there had been an official cover up.

After complaints about the lack of action by Burrup’s father, a reward of 500 pounds and a free pardon for any accomplice not actually involved in the murder were offered but with no result.

There certainly must have been a lot of suspicion about who was responsible for it was said that the murderer died some time later in Singapore. Another possibility was raised by prospector F.W.P. Cammelleri when a German by the name of Frank Hornig, visited his camp on the Halls Creek goldfield one night. The subject of the murders in Roebourne came up and Hornig was very dismissive of police efforts and Cammelleri became suspicious. Soon after Hornig left, a party came through looking for the German as he was wanted for the murder of two men on the goldfield. Hornig was eventually captured and executed for the killings but no concrete proof of his involvement in the killing of Burrup and Anketell emerged.

Henry Burrup was remembered in the naming of the Burrup Peninsula. For a more detailed account

Henry Burrup of the murders and the circumstances surrounding them and the subsequent trial visit Frances Yeo's excellent website www.roebournebankmurders.com

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A load of bull. One of the most valuable Santa Gertrudis breeding bulls in the country was owned by Orleans Farms. The bull lived in a paddock next to a sheep dip and one one occasion after plentiful rain the sheep dip overflowed.

The bull drank the contaminated water and died but long after his death he was still fathering many offspring. This was because his sperm had been collected and stored for Artificial Insemination.

The first major mining disaster In 1897 there was a tragedy at the Mount Charlotte mine when some dynamite caught fire. The practice at the time was to use candles with naked flames and one of these managed to get into a box of dynamite and set it on fire. The explosives did not go off but the miners fearing an explosion started climbing a nearby shaft to get away. The fumes from the burning explosives drifted up around the men as they climbed and although they all reached the surface alive, six of them would die in the next few hours from the fumes they had inhaled. Only one of the men exposed to the fumes survived but a miner who was not exposed and was working at a lower level suffered no ill effects. The truth is if the men had simply moved away from the fumes instead of panicking they would all have lived to tell the tale.

Pearl Divers in the Goldfields. On March 19th 1907 a large downpour of rain flooded an underground mine (Westralian Extension at Bonnievale) seven miles north of Coolgardie. All but one of the miners made it to safety but Modesto Varischetti had been trapped in an air pocket and had no way out.

It was known that Modesto had been working on level 10 and this level was by now completely flooded. His only chance would have been if he had made it to a rise that was being made between level 10 and level 9. To see if he had made it to this rise all the debris had to be cleared from level 9 and the water level had to be lowered.

Rescuers had established he was alive by tapping on a rock wall directly above where Modesto would be if he had survived and they heard tapping in response.

Tunneling to get him out, or pumping out the water would have taken too long and Varischetti would have died before he could be reached. The mine inspector Joshua Crabbe had an inspired idea. He was familiar with pearl diving in the North West and made enquiries about getting divers to rescue the trapped man.

Two divers (Curtis and Thomas Hearn) were found holidaying in Perth and as luck would have it they had their gear with them. A special train was organised to get them to the goldfields (taking 13 hours and 10 minutes to arrive) setting a new speed record which was to last for the next 50 years.

By the time the divers had arrived Varischetti had been trapped for 3 days. The divers had no knowledge of the flooded mine and during the first attempt to reach Modesto, Curtis became entangled and was lucky to survive.

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Modesto, thinking he would never escape wrote several notes for those on the surface and in one of these he said:

'Dear Maringoni Guiseppi, I cannot tell you or make you understand how it happened. There is no man that can form an idea of what speed the water was rising at from the time I first noticed it. The water was rising so quickly that in a minute the drive was full, and I made up my mind absolutely that God wanted me in the other world and that he was tired of me. I was prepared to accept death. I wish to tell you to be quick, that I feel as if my bones are dying. Dear mates have pity on myself. I send you my greetings, farewell. I am your miserable friend, farewell. Modesto Varischetti.'

Two miners who had worked as divers (Frank Hughes and a man named Fox) were located and they set to work trying to reach the air pocket. Because of the difficulties of negotiating a submerged mine to total darkness the divers had to make 5 attempts before actually reaching the stranded man. Fox had injured his leg so Hearn agreed to assist Hughes with the rescue.

Luckily a rock drill had been rigged in the rise and was able to still supply compressed air so Modesto would not suffocate.

There was still no way of getting him out but at least he could now be supplied with food, water and light. It took 9 days before pumps drained enough water for Varischetti to be rescued and Frank Hughes (the diver who had been down 5 times in one day) was awarded a gold medal for his efforts.

Modesto Varischetti

Today gold is still being recovered near this and other sites around Coolgardie by more efficient open pit mining and modern chemical recovery methods.

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Fear of Finnerty

Magistrate and mining Warden J.M. Finnerty was almost a legend on the goldfields. He was known as hard but fair and was widely respected by the miners.

One one occasion after two men were arrested and there was no where to put them, Finnerty confined them to a tent. Such was their respect for Finnerty (and probably their fear of the consequences if they disobeyed) that they would not leave the tent even though it was a hot day. The day got progressively hotter, and the two men got thirstier and thirstier so they hatched a plan to get some beer without leaving the tent.

When Finnerty checked on the men later in the day he found them both roaring drunk and on enquiring into how they got into that condition without breaking their word to him, Finnerty discovered that they had pulled the tent pegs and walked to the pub under the tent. Rumour has it that he was so amused and impressed with their ingenuity that he let them both off.

Warden Finnety

The exploding toilet of Ah Sim. Ah Sim, an elderly Chinese man, used to grow and sell vegetables. He took his produce round on a horse and cart to sell to local people and he was often followed by a group of local urchins who made fun of the old man. Ah Sim took little notice until he found them stealing carrots from his garden and then he chased them away.

The trio involved decided to get even by blowing up Ah Sim's outhouse. They planted a plug of gelignite and retired a distance to watch the explosion. It was at this time that Ah Sim received the call of nature and was seen heading for the toilet. As they intended no real harm to Ah Sim, the trio

31 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com had to reveal themselves and shout a warning before the toilet was blown sky high.

This ended the three of them in court and they were lucky not to spend some time in the lock up but instead were fined five pounds each.

The following ditty was apparently quoted widely around town at the time:

The dynamite gang crept out one night To give Ah Sim a terrible fright The toilet blew up with a frightful row And Ah Sim say "Who pay now?"

The Mad 8.

A group of gun (expert) shearers was put together as a team to see how well they could perform. When working at Williambury Station they sheared 9167 sheep in a 40 hour working week, a world record that we believe may never have been broken.

Ghost on the Pinjarra bridge. The ghost is said to be that of a woman named Kate who died on the bridge in the 1860s. Exactly one year after she was buried, Kate's ghost was said to appear at midnight - well it is a ghost story ! - and she appeared at the same time for the next 6 years. When, on the seventh year, several men tried to capture Kate when she appeared she must have decided that enough was enough and she never showed up again.

Following is the full story including diary entries from people who saw it first hand : From the diary of Thomas Scott:

"I had occasion during my stay in Pinjarrah to see Mr. C. on some small business transactions. Mr. C. was a near relation of the nocturnal visitant of which we are about to speak. On the third evening of our stay at Mr. Greenacre's Mr. C. paid me a visit. He was a man of firm resolution and would laugh trifles in the face. And a thorough unbeliever in such things as disembodied spirits. On my remarking how unwell he looked he only shook his hand and said, 'No wonder, Sir, for we have seen her again. And this makes the sixth time of her reappearance, and more distinct she appeared than she has on the former occasions.'

'Seen who? may I ask,' said I.

'Seen who?' reiterated Mr. C. 'Why surely, Mr. Margrave, you have not been in Pinjarrah these three days and heard nothing of the Ghost of the old Bridge?'

'Indeed then I have,' I replied. 'But you really don't mean to tell me that you believe in the story? Why, it was only last night, rather late that I came across the old Bridge and met none save one solitary individual, an elderly lady to all appearance who was attired in a light loose dress.'

?My poor Aunt, Mrs. C.,' exclaimed my friend, 'who has been dead for the last seven years, and this

32 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com is the anniversary of her mysterious death. Why, Mr. Margrave this is the veritable ghost of the old Bridge of which I was just speaking to you about, and which makes its nocturnal appearance on the old Bridge every year about this time. Whether it is the disembodied spirit of my aunt, which carries her feature and is recognised by us all, or whether it is but a phantom of the mind. God only knows, for it is very mysterious.'

'Strange, no doubt, as you say,' I ejaculated, 'but I rather think you are labouring under some illusion.'

'No illusion whatever,' said Mr. C., 'it is too true. She walks that old bridge towards midnight nine days in each year just before and after the anniversary of her death. She has been recognised by her two sisters, her brother John, and Mr. Koil (?), my uncle.'

'You say she has been dead for the last seven years. May I ask in what manner she met her death?'

'Certainly, Sir,' answered Mr. C. 'She was found dead seven years ago on the old Bridge. She was supposed to have died from an apoplectic fit, but whatever the cause of death was she was interred next day as the weather was too oppressive to keep her any longer than that short time. On the 1st July, one year from the date of her demise, she, or rather her apparition for I cannot be convinced to the contrary, was first seen by my uncle at midnight walking the old Bridge like a silent sentinel from the place of departed spirits. My uncle came home - I remember the night well - just as he had finished telling us what he had seen, three distinct, loud knocks were heard at our back door. It was a beautiful moonlit starry night - not a cloud was seen in the vast blue firmament; and bewildering stillness seemed to reign supreme. There was no time for anybody to have made off nor was there any place of concealment near at hand, as instantaneously we all ran to the door - but there was nothing to be seen and there was not a breath of air stirring. With palpitating hearts and big drops of perspiration on our foreheads we returned to the house. The door was hardly closed when three more knocks louder than the first was heard again, and at the same time we heard as distinctly as possible my uncle's Christian name repeated two or three times outside the door. The sound or voice was that of my an aunt, which was recognised by all present. We all stood looking at each other in mute fear and astonishment - terror seemed to sway every heart now beating thrice three times as fast. My uncle was the first to break the spell. He rushed to the door, closely followed by myself, as if ashamed of his momentary fear, to behold a tall stately figure of a female clad in a light loose dress similar to that she had on at the time she was found dead on the old Bridge. 'Yes,' said my uncle, in a tremulous hoarse voice, 'Yes, that is my sister Kate or her apparition which I saw on the old Bridge.' She was walking or rather slowly gliding as it were in the direction of the old Bridge, which is about a quarter of a mile from our farm. My uncle instinctively shouted out 'Kate,' his sister's name. But, as if by magic, on her name being called she immediately disappeared from our view. We all proceeded to the old Bridge with the expectation of seeing the apparition there, for we were all fully convinced now that the figure was nothing else, but we were disappointed. None of us slept that night but kept a vigil till morning. On the third night after this the apparition was seen again but could not be approached by my uncle. Finally it disappeared altogether until the following year about the same time it made its reappearance again. Each succeeding year to the present one has brought us the ghostly visits of my deceased aunt, and for what purpose is to us as yet a mystery.'

'You say,' said I, 'that the apparition is to be seen on the old Bridge but will not be approached; must I understand by that it disappears on your approach to it?'

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'Precisely so,' answered Mr. C. "And,' he went on, 'if you, Mr. Margrave, have no objection you are welcome to join our little private party who are going to watch for it to-night."

'I shall be too glad to accept your offer,' I replied; 'and I only hope I shall have a glimpse of your nocturnal visitant. May I bring a friend?' ?Certainly, with pleasure - half a dozen if you like - the more the merrier.'

The hour appointed by the C. party for apprising the apparition was fixed at midnight, that being the accustomed time of its first appearance. On my informing Mr. M. of our midnight adventure and the object it had in view, he most readily assented to accompany me, saying at the same time, 'And, by my soul, if it were a ghost we'd better be after letting the poor creature rest. faith, or may be it will be giving us a turn as well as its own people, sure. But no matter, go we will and if it should turn out to be some spalpeen night-walking, that wants waking, faith an' we'll give him a good ducking in the river that runs under the old Bridge.'

According to previous arrangements half-past eleven that night found our small midnight party, comprising five in all, at our respective positions. The night was beautifully starlit with a full moon coursing in the heavens above. To the right of the Bridge was a burying ground and on either side but this lay nothing but the dark, dense forest, that looked in this lonesome hour the very place for a ghost scene. Twelve o'clock came and - no apparition appeared - a quarter-past twelve - half-past - and now five-and-twenty minutes to one and yet no appearance. We were literally counting the minutes after twelve but to no effect.

'Bad luck to it,' exclaimed Mr. M.: "I believe after all it will turn out nothing more than a hoax, sure.'

'Well,' said, I, 'never mind, Mr. M., we will keep it up till one o'clock, then we'll give it up as a ------' 'Hist. Look!' interrupted Mr. M. 'By my soul, but there's somebody coming over the Bridge.'

On looking at my watch I found it was just twenty minutes to one. Scarcely had the last word died on Mr. M's lips when from four different quarters we advanced as previously arranged, with stealthy step (like 'stealing a march') toward the Bridge. A slight thrill ran through me as I clearly recognised the same figure I had seen the night previous. The old Bridge was a wooden construction about 50 yards long, with railing on each side as a protection to the dark waters beneath. We were not twenty yards from the apparition when on the death stillness of the surrounding dark looking forest broke the prolonged and mournful howl of a dingo or native dog, causing us to fairly start. But it was only momentarily. Mr. M. and myself arrived at one end of the bridge whilst at the other end appeared at the same time the C. party.

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The apparition was in the centre of the Bridge and seemed to be on the move. It was quite recognisable by all parties and the same that has already been described. We instinctively stopped to

watch it for a few minutes. The signal was given by the other party to apprise it, and simultaneously we all rushed to the spot where the apparition stood, visible as plain as day, and - aghast, we stood gaping at each other scarcely believing our own eyes. The figure whether earthly or spiritual had vanished. Five men, whom I am in a position to prove were in there sane senses witnessed the mysterious - what shall we call it? - a delusion? - a phenomenon? - or what? The world in the nineteenth century laughs at as gross superstition, viz., a ghost or spirit of the departed."

The ghost is said to be that of a woman named Kate who died on the bridge in the 1860s. Exactly one year after she was buried Kate's ghost was said to appear at midnight - well it is a ghost story ! - and she appeared at the same time for the next 6 years. When, on the seventh year, several men tried to capture Kate when she appeared she must have decided that enough was enough and she never showed up again.

The saddest tale of all I have read many sad tales of people who perished in the Australian outback but this particular one, seems to me, to be the saddest of them all.

On Christmas Day 1915 a little old lady (Mrs Margaret Quinn) arrived at the Kalgoorlie train station from Perth. She had just completed the long sea journey from Scotland to Australia as she wanted to see her son for Christmas. He was working 32 kilometres from Kalgoorlie at Bulong as the local school teacher but due to a mix up in communications he was unaware that his mother had arrived and was waiting for him to pick her up just a few kilometres away from where he was having a quiet Christmas drink with some friends.

The old lady waited until around mid-day and finally deciding that her son was not coming she asked directions to Bulong and decided to walk there as she had come all the way over just to spend Christmas Day with him.

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She was told how to get to Bulong but was also warned to keep to the track and someone suggested she not attempt to walk there on her own. Hiring a horse and cart to take her was too expensive so she decided to press on and walk.

A day or so later someone mentioned to her son that his mother had been in Coolgardie and left with the intention of reaching Bulong but her son had not seen her. A search was organised but it took several more days to locate her and by that time she had died of thirst. She was found 16 Kilometres from Kalgoorlie and 6 kilometres off the track to Bulong.

It is hard not to imagine the fear and pain she experienced when she realised she was lost in the great Australian outback, all because she had wanted to spend Christmas with her son.

Murdered for gold. Inspector John Walsh and Detective Sergeant Alexander Pitman were reported missing in April 1926. Their job was to investigate gold theft and fears were held for their safety when nothing was heard from them for some time.

The worst fears were realised when their burned and mutilated remains were found down an abandoned mine shaft. After a lengthy investigation William Coulter and Phillip Treffene were tried for the murders, convicted and executed. Evan Clarke who had apparently been involved in disposing of the bodies turned King's evidence and managed to save himself.

Pommie John and the Submarine. John Woodward was a new comer to fishing in the area when he bought a small boat in the 1950s and went out on his own. The locals didn't like his chances but apparently he went out near to the lighthouse on Dirk Hartog Island and came back to Denham many times with enough fish.

On one trip he anchored up just off the light house as usual and turned in for the night. In the morning he found that the anchor had pulled and he was now some 7 kilometres west of the island and rapidly drifting out to sea. He tried to start the motor but found his battery had gone flat. With nothing left to do he waited and watched the horizon for any sign of a ship that would save him.

Imagine his surprise when up from under the surface came an American submarine that was on route from Fremantle to Singapore. They had spotted him and wondered what such a small boat was doing that far out to sea. They replaced his battery and gave him some supplies then towed him in to the island before departing. In return he gave them the fresh fish from his ice box.

Locals didn't really believe the story until a photo was produced showing his boat alongside the submarine. Pommie John moved on and went fishing round the islands off Geraldton but after another near escape where his boat was capsized and he had to swim to shore he gave up his adventurous ways and returned to England.

(A copy of the photo of the submarine and John with his boat can be seen in Hugh Edwards' book 'Shark Bay through 4 centuries'.)

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Liquid lunch The Peron Station shearing shed was located within walking distance to the local pub and it was quite common for the day to start with a full compliment of hard working thirsty shearers.0

By morning smoko one or two shearers didn't make it back to work, after lunch one or two more would go missing and by afternoon smoko the shearing shed could remain empty for the rest of the day.

All at sea in an esky The fishing boat Nor 6 was on her way to a safe anchorage in the South Passage in the dark when she struck cliffs not far south of the safe harbour. Jack Drinan was thrown into the sea and as the boat broke up and sank he spotted the brine tank (a huge esky) that is kept on deck to store the catch.

He managed to swim to the brine tank and broke in through the top cover. He was now safe from drowning and had a small supply of food and water (from the ice). The bad news was that the wind was blowing him out to sea. Day after day the winds took him away from shore and his water eventually ran out. He drank small amounts of sea water (something you should never do) and started to hallucinate but was saved from death by rain which he managed to collect and divert to one of the compartments in the brine tank.

Several days after he first got into the tank he decided to fashion a raft from the foam insulation of the tank just in case he got close enough to shore to paddle in. By this time all searches had been abandoned and he was given up for dead by those on land.

One day he spotted a passing ship but despite calling out he was not seen. After 14 days he finally saw land again and to his surprise he was back almost at the original site of the wreck. Just as he thought he was saved the wind began to blow off shore again and he had to make the decision to get on the foam raft and paddle to shore.

A strong current almost carried him out to sea again but in the end he did make it to land (near the unmanned light house). Even so he was not safe. There was no-one there to help him and he reasoned that if he stayed where he was he may die from lack of water or food before he was found. He took to the water again on his raft and was lucky to bee seen and rescued by a local fishing boat.

His story about being carried out and back by the currents was scoffed at by many who thought he had just remained at the lighthouse but many years later his story was confirmed when the brine tank was found washed ashore in the same vicinity - it had come back a third time on its own.

Cat uses all nine lives. When the cutter Gem went down near Rottnest in 1878 no sign could be found of her crew but through some extraordinary means the ships cat is said to have made it back to the mainland and returned to her home some days after the ship sank.

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Irish Rebels escape! Michael Harrington, James Wilson, (another source says McNally but seems to be incorrect), Martin Hogan, Thomas Darragh, Thomas Hassett and Robert Cranston were Irish patriots held in Fremantle prison as political prisoners. (at least according to them and their supporters.) Like John Boyle O'Reilly, they had been involved in an attempted mutiny and had been sentenced to transportation for life to W.A.

In 1870 many political prisoners who had been civilians at the time of their convictions, had been released, but these men had all been members of the military and their actions were viewed much more seriously.

Their compatriots in America (especially John Devoy who had recruited many of the men for rebellion in the first place) had raised $25,000 with the purpose of rescuing the prisoners and a whaling ship Catalpa was purchased to that end.

Captain Anthony was recruited to take the ship to Australia and rescue the men and he alone of all the ship's crew, knew of the real purpose of the mission until he let the First Mate, Smith, into the plan some time after they sailed. Anthony was a strange choice as he was a protestant, an American and a temperance (anti-alcohol) man.

So as not to arouse suspicion (and to help pay for the cost of the rescue), the Catalpa was fitted out for a whaling voyage and she took several whales during the passage. After calling in at Fayal and Tenerife the ship set sail for Australia.

On the way they chanced to cross paths with the British ship, Ocean Beauty. Captain Anthony went aboard and asked about obtaining better charts of the Australian coastline. The Beauty's Captain was happy to provide charts stating that he had used them when he was Captain of the Hougoumont transporting convicts to Australia. Anthony later realised that by pure chance he had obtained the charts from the very ship used to transport the men he was setting out to rescue. Due to a number of delays the Catalpa was running late but eventually she did arrive in West Australian waters.

The ship arrived off Cape Leeuwin and made its way north to Geographe Bay and then to the small port of Bunbury - 29th March 1876. Here Anthony made contact with a man named John Breslin. Breslin (who was using the name James Collins while in W.A.) had arrived to organise the escape and had been posing as a wealthy investor. Breslin was even entertained by the Governor himself while he waited for the Catalpa to arrive.

It turned out that there were three separate rescue attempts underway at the same time. One originating from America, one from Sydney and one from Ireland. This posed great security risks. British intelligence had got wind of the rescue attempt originating in Dublin. The local authorities in Fremantle dismissed the British warning insisting that no one could escape and survive.

Breslin had a number of men helping him to arrange the escape and some of the conspirators travelled by cart to Rockingham to look for a suitable place for the prisoners to be picked up by a small whale boat from the Catalpa.

A site was found near Cape Peron and a date arranged for the escape. Breslin returned to Fremantle and Anthony to Bunbury. While Anthony had been away his crew had decided to aid in the escape

38 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com of a ticket-of-leave man who was found stowed away on board. Anthony, fearing this would place the rescue of the Irish prisoners in jeopardy, notified the local authorities who came aboard and arrested the stow away.

Heavy weather set in and realising he could not set sail in time for the rescue, Anthony rushed to the telegraph office only to find if closed due to a public holiday. He managed to locate an operator and convince her to send a telegram to Fremantle and his luck held as there was someone at the other end to receive the message.

A day late, the Catalpa set sail for Rockingham and at around 8pm on Sunday night Anthony and a few hand picked men came ashore to wait for the prisoners arrival. The Catalpa was left outside the three mile limit and therefore outside British jurisdiction.

Meanwhile Breslin and his men had been busy organising clothes, weapons and supplies for the escape. At the appointed time the Irish prisoners simply walked away from their assigned tasks and made their way to a waiting wagon. They had been able to do this so easily because they had known for some time about their impending rescue and had been on their best behaviour. In return they had been granted a measure of greater freedom and were able to get away without complications.

By mid-morning on April 17th 1876 (Easter Monday) the wagon arrived at the rendezvous on the beach and the men were hurriedly taken on board the whaling boat and told to keep down and out of sight. A local who saw the men boarding the boat rode to Fremantle to raise the alarm. Only a short time after they had taken to the water a party of armed police arrived. The escape had been uncovered!

Breslin left the Governor a cheeky note telling him of the escape and the part he (as J. Collins) had played in it.

As the small boat got further out the weather started to deteriorate and by the time the catalpa was sighted a gale was rising and darkness was rapidly approaching. The Catalpa failed to see the whale boat and made for open sea to ride out the storm. Anthony and the escapees were now left to ride out the storm in an open boat for the entire night.

After what seem ages the winds began to abate sometime before dawn and with the coming of daylight there was relief as the Catalpa could be seen making her way back toward shore.

Suddenly alarm went through the boat crew and prisoners when they sighted the mail steamer Georgette steam out of Fremantle and begin making a search. Luckily they were not spotted as Anthony instructed everyone to get down out of sight.

The Georgette went out to the Catalpa and demanded permission to be allowed to search the ship but Sam Smith refused. The Georgette running low on fuel, sailed on towards Garden Island and returned to Fremantle as the coal began to run out. Now a guard boat full of armed soldiers appeared and spotted the whale boat. At about the same time the Catalpa also saw them and the race was on to see who got there first.

The Catalpa won the race and the men and small boat were taken aboard with only minutes to spare. The Officer commanding the guard boat knew he was beaten and gallantly saluted and called out a

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The wind that had been so strong the night before now deserted the sailing ship and as darkness closed in again her sails hung limp and lifeless.

The next morning the Georgette was seen steaming out again, this time her decks crowded with armed troops and armed with a 12 pound canon. She soon reached the Catalpa and the commander called on the American ship to 'heave to'. Captain Anthony refused and hoisted the American flag. With the breeze freshening the Catalpa now moved off with the Georgette following. A game of cat and mouse went on for an hour or so but finally the pursuit was abandoned and the Irishmen were free at last.

A song about the incident quickly emerged and the lyrics so enraged the police that it was banned under penalty of arrest. The lyrics were:

Come all ye police and gaolers Remember Perth regatta day Take care of the rest of the Fenians Or the Yankees will take them away

Now all the Perth boats were a racing And making short tacks for the spot But the Yankee she tacked into Fremantle And took the best prize of the lot

The Georgette, armed with bold warriors Went out the poor Yanks to arrest But she hoisted her star spangled banner Saying you all not board me I guess

Now they've landed safe in the States of America And there they will be able to cry Hoist up the green and the shamrock Hurrah for good old Ireland we die

There is some evidence that the colonial authorities, the Governor and the prison Warden all had prior knowledge of the planned escape but did nothing to prevent it. Perhaps they were glad to be rid of the trouble makers.

A final word on the matter can be left to the London Telegraph newspaper that wrote:

'...the enterprising skipper of the Catalpa has, without meaning it, done us a good turn; he has rid us of an expensive nuisance. The United States are welcome to any number of disloyal, turbulent, plotting conspirators...'

The full fascinating story of this daring rescue can be read in Z.W. Pease's book 'The Catalpa Expedition' or seen on the DVD The Catalpa Rescue by the ABC.

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John Devoy, exiled to America for so long, was finally able to return to an independent Ireland in 1922.

Final note: The steamer Georgette was lost off the West Australian coast near Gracetown just 9 months after the Catalpa incident and Grace Bussell became famous for her part in the rescue of the crew and passengers.

Catalpa

Murder at the town hall The Fremantle Town Hall was officially opened on the 22nd of June 1887. The following day a children's fancy dress ball was held and a group of unruly people were denied entry.

The event progressed until about midnight and it was not long after this that the sound of a gunshot was heard.

W. Conroy, the landlord of the National Hotel in High Street had shot W.J. Snook. Snook had apparently been involved in earlier denial of entry to the group of which Conroy was a part. Conroy had gone home, picked up a gun and returned to take revenge for being thrown out.

Snook was badly wounded but did manage to survive for about 3 months before passing away. Conroy was tried, found guilty and executed in the old Perth Gaol. He had the dubious honour of being the last person to be executed there. A large number of people petitioned for a stay of execution but Governor Broome decided against it and Conroy's execution went ahead although apparently not smoothly as his neck did not break when he fell and it took him some time to die.

Fremantle Doctor This is not quite what you might expect based purely on the name. The 'Freo' Doctor is a cool afternoon wind that blows in from the sea on hot summer afternoons. The term 'Doctor' seems to have originated in South Africa when referring to a wind.

Records show that the Freo Doctor blows on about 70% of summer days.

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The Cursed Pearl It is well known that many pearls found their way on to the black market as crews came up with all sorts of ways of pocketing the gems before their bosses got their hands on them.

When a pearl buyer who was known to deal in stolen pearls turned up floating face down in the sea near Chinatown in Broome, an investigation was launched into his murder.

When found, the dealer still had some 450 pounds in cash on him and it appeared that he had died from blows to the head.

The police eventually arrested three men, Marquez, Espada and Hagan. Marquez turned King's evidence in an effort to save himself from the gallows and admitted that the plan was to rob the dealer (Liebglid) of 500 pounds that he had agreed to pay for a large stolen pearl.

They lured Liebglid down to the mangroves near the Roebuck Hotel where they attacked him but not before he had the chance to cry out 'Murder!'. The attackers fled into the night without managing to collect the money and the dealer's body was found the following morning.

The men had been turned in to the police by a pearl diver called Toledo. He claimed that the three had been seen with wet clothes and were whispering together the night of the murder.

Marquez, Espada and Hagan were tried in Fremantle and hanged for their crime (turning King's evidence did not save Marquez.) but the pearl they had lured Liebglid to his death with had not been found.

Rumour has it that Toledo had originally stolen the pearl and Marquez had seen him hide it. Marquez then stole it for himself and that was why Toledo turned him in to the police.

The pearl is said to have been in the hands of an old Filipino who was almost destitute. He sold it to a man called Gomez and then returned on the proceeds to the Philippines but died almost as soon as he touched home soil.

Then the pearl was stolen from Gomez who committed suicide in a fit of despair. Then it turned up in Port Hedland and was bought by a man called Davis who was about to sail on the ship Koombana.

The Koombana sailed from Hedland on March 19th 1912, straight into the arms of a huge cyclone. The Koombana was lost with all hands.

Even the original thief, Toledo did not escape the curse of the pearl. He drowned in a cyclone off Eighty Mile Beach.

Japanese raids on Broome and Diamond Jack. During World War II, Broome served as a military outpost and was attacked by Japanese planes. The most serious loss of life occurred after Dutch civilians had boarded flying boats in Roebuck Bay waiting to be flown further south. 16 flying boats were moored in the bay and none survived the attack. Casualty figures vary but it is thought that up to 200 people lost their lives in the raid.

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The aircraft had been getting ready to leave the area and had been told to leave by 10am. The Japanese attack started at 9:30am with all the flying boats still at anchor and packed with passengers. It was all over by 10:30am and 23 allied aeroplanes had been destroyed.

Diamond Jack (second from the right)

The Japanese lost 2 planes, one was shot down during the raid and a second ran out of fuel on the return flight to Koepang.

A plane that was due to land at Broome managed to miss the above destruction by landing at Wallal Station instead. If it was not for this lucky mistake they too would have been among the casualties at Roebuck Bay.

On the same day a Dutch DC3 was making its way down the coast when it too was jumped by Japanese zeros. The pilot and others were wounded and the plane crash landed on the beach at Carnot Bay. Three people died while waiting for rescue. Days later, the remaining survivors were rescued. However, a package handed to the pilot when leaving Indonesia, remained on the plane.

Jack Palmer, sailing past the abandoned plane some time later, stopped to examine the wreckage and came across the mysterious package. Imagine his surprise when he found it full of glittering diamonds. The diamonds found their way into numerous pockets and 'Diamond' Jack returned a number to the authorities. It was suspected that Jack had kept a large portion of the gems and he was charged and brought to trial. The jury - which seems to have had some sympathy with 'Diamond' Jack - acquitted him and he took the secret of the missing diamonds to his grave.

Seven point kick. During a game of Australian Rules football the Daniells Siding Demons were one goal (6 points) ahead of the Widgiemooltha Wanderers as the game neared its conclusion.

Widgie’s full forward took a last shot at goal just as the final siren sounded and the ball (that was somewhat the worse for wear) fell apart, the leather case going between the big sticks (6 points) and the bladder going through the points posts (1 point). The Umpire declared 1 goal and 1 point and Widgie won the match by that 1 point.

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Falling Stones of Mayanup Mayanup as a place, is no more than a pin-prick on the map. It is located south of Boyup Brook on Blackwood Road. It would probably have remained unknown and unremarkable except for a report in the Daily News in 1957 which (in part) read:

"Stones have been gently falling on the Keninup, Boyup Brook property of farmer W. W. M. Hack for nearly two years. The occurrences have been intermittent and generally at the greatest intensity during the winter months.'

The stones were apparently warm to the touch and seemed to materialise from nowhere. Reports say that some stones "fell slowly", others materialised inside buildings etc.

The events in question are said to have taken place over a number of years, 1946 - 1962 to be precise. Similar events have also been reported at Humphrey's Bridge (near Wandering), as well as at Boddington and Borden.

The stones ranged from pebble sized all the way up to 19 kilograms. The news soon spread and people started travelling to the towns to see for themselves what was going on. Later in 1957 the Daily News again reported:

'Just after the natives shifted camp the stone phenomenon was witnessed by dozens of independent white witnesses. At 5:30pm yesterday, when he returned from a nearby stock sale, he found a crowd of people in a half-circle behind his house. Stones were falling. They were picking them up as fast as they fell.'

Jack Coulter, Daily News 1957

In 2009 ABC TV aired a documentary about the 'Spirit Stones' that included interviews with people who had experienced the phenomenon. As far as we know there has never been a definitive explanation of just what the stones were and where they came from.

ABC TV page : http://www.abc.net.au/tv/guide/netw/200907/programs/ZY8801A001D9072009T213000.htm

Some have blamed the stones on a ghost or poltergeist. Helen Hack wrote a book about it called 'The Mystery of the Mayanup Poltergeist'. We assume Helen Hack is related Douglas Hack who was a witness to the falling stones. The National Library of Australia has a sound recording of an interview with Douglas Hack but as far as we know it is not available online. (Details at NLA Interview) : http://catalogue.nla.gov.au/Record/2014397

The Alkimos The wreck of the Alkimos sits stranded and rusting away north of Mindarie Keys. The ship has been there since 1963 and anyone going too near to the ship is said to be plagued by bad luck. Strange lights have also been seen in the ship at night. The photo below was taken back in the 1960s and since then most of the ship has broken up and disintegrated.

The story of this ship stretches back to Baltimore U.S.A. in 1943 during World War II when it began

44 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com its life as the liberty ship George M. Shriver. The ship seems to have been plagued with bad luck and rumours about deaths on board include the accidental sealing of a worker inside the double hull during the hasty construction and a murder suicide on board.

Liberty ships were usually assembled from pre-fabricated parts in ten days. The George M. Shriver took six weeks as sections did not fit together, machinery broke down and accidents slowed down work.

After an undistinguished war service during which the ship spent much of its time in dry dock being repaired, it was sold to a Norwegian company and re-named Viggo Hansteen. Despite the name change the bad luck did not go away. Accidents and repairs were frequent and in 1961 the ship collided with another vessel in a British harbour and was severely damaged.

After the repairs were completed the ship was sold to a Greek firm and became the Alkimos. In 1963 the ship struck a reef off the coast between Perth and Geraldton. For some reason the Captain of the ship did not call for assistance for three days. When a tug arrived to help get the ship off the reef the Captain again refused help and attempted to get the ship off using just the ship's winches. This went on for a further two days before a salvage expert arrived.

The ship was eventually re-floated and taken to Fremantle for repairs during which there was a fire and much of the inside of the ship was destroyed. Meanwhile as the grounding was investigated, the ships First Officer was fined for misleading the inquiry and the ship was impounded due to outstanding debts for earlier repairs.

The owners paid all outstanding fees but decided not to waste any more money on the old ship. Arrangements were made to tow the ship to Hong Kong to be scrapped. An un-forecast gale hit the west coast not long after the ships left port and the tow line snapped. The Alkimos struck Eglington Rocks.

Several attempts to salvage the ship were made but all were plagued with mishaps, breakdowns and in one case the owner of one salvage companies collapsed and died. Eventually the Alkimos was pulled free of the rocks by the tug Pacific Star that had come south from Manilla.

After only a couple of kilometres another vessel appeared and the Pacific Star was impounded for unpaid debts. The Alkimos was anchored but broke her chain in a heavy swell and for the third and last time she grounded.

You might think that this would be the end of the story but far from it. members of the salvage crew were stationed on board to guard the ship but soon began to experience strange events. Unexplained noises, cooking smells and objects being moved all unnerved the salvage crew but when they saw a large man dressed in oil skins walk across the deck and vanish into a closed steel door they had had enough.

Other salvage workers were put aboard as caretakers but all had stories to tell about the Alkimos ghost. The story of the ghost began to spread and it wasn't long before people began visiting the ship, some staying over night to try and get a glimpse of the ghost who by now had been given the name of Henry (reported as Harry in some sources).

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One party that spent time on board over night included Jack Sue (a member of Z Force during WWII and a recognised diver). With his war experience, Jack was not one to be frightened easily but during his dealings with the Alkimos he admitted to being affected by the strange noises and unexplained difficulties with equipment while on the ship. He returned with a TV crew some time later in the hope of documenting the strange goings on and again was confronted by odd phenomena.

It is said that those who have chosen to associate themselves with the Alkimos suffer bad luck, accidents and even death as a result. The skull of a well known long distance swimmer (Herbert Voight) who vanished on a swim to Rottnest in 1969 was found near the ship (some say inside the ship). During its days of operation the unexplained sound of a barking dog was reported in the engine room and 25 years later when Jack Sue was investigating the ship the same noise was heard.

Whatever the cause of all these things may be, the ship certainly had an unlucky history.

This story more than any other we have in this collection seems to have fascinated people. At the

time of writing this over 57,000 people have read it on our Facebook page. Alkimos soon after the stranding

Drop Bear (Phascolarctus Hodgsonii) also listed as (Thylarctos plummetus) Probably the next most famous mythical creature in W.A. to the bunyip is the Drop Bear.

Described as a large muscular carnivorous koala with large canine teeth, the tales of the Drop Bear have long been used to frighten gullible tourists sitting around a campfire late at night in the remote outback.

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The Drop Bear is said to leap down from trees on to its unwary prey sinking its huge fangs into the top of its' victim's skull.

It is often said that smearing vegemite or toothpaste behind the ears will put off any Drop Bear attacks.

Although difficult to determine the origins of this myth it has been suggested that it was first used to deter people (children especially) from sleeping under gum trees - as the trees can drop heavy limbs without warning and are referred to as 'widow makers'.

At one time there were animals twice the size of the modern day koala living in trees. It is quite possible that an animal not unlike that described by this myth did in fact actually exist.

Stories of Drop Bears are usually delivered with a serious demeanour and overseas visitors may have difficulty establishing fact from fiction as most Australians are aware of the Drop Bear joke and are more than ready to confirm its existence to visitors.

In recent times it seems that the Drop Bear has developed a number of sub-species which include the Common, Burrowing, Alpine and even an Aquatic sub type with webbed feet and hands, that drops on swimmers from trees overhanging peaceful waterways.

Just when you think you are sure the Drop Bear is just a myth, we include the following warning about Drop Bears that is quoted from the website : www.thetsf.org.au (Site no longer exists)

'As you can imagine, admitting their existence would cause some degree of panic, and destroy parts of Australia's eco-tourism industry overnight. It is for this reason that all government departments will, and have denied any knowledge of the existence of the Drop Bear, and are likely to continue to do so in the future. Being an avid outdoor enthusiast, and having contact with people who spend a large proportion of their time outdoors, I have gathered together scraps of information from sources all around the country, linking Drop Bear involvement to such events as the disappearance of Azaria Chamberlain, the death of Captain James Cook in Hawaii, several war-time incidents in northern Australia, the disappearance of a group of cross-country skiers in the Victorian Alps, and the deaths of a number of hikers, canoeists, 4WDrivers, campers, sunbathers and swimmers throughout the country. These 'accidents' are often reported as crocodile attacks, falls from cliffs, exposure, and in the Chamberlain case, dingoes were blamed. I have it on good authority in all of these cases, however, that a government cover-up was at work to dispel rumours of Drop Bear attacks and hide the truth from the public.'

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Also see the following : http://australianmuseum.net.au/Drop-Bear

Min Min Lights Min min lights are mysterious but are not creatures of any sort. They are usually seen out in remote areas late at night and can appear to follow as you move along.

There have been literally hundreds of sightings of min min lights over the years and no doubt exists as to their reality but what is mysterious is why these lights occur at all and why to they sometimes seem to respond to people's actions.

Experiments have revealed that the phenomenon is probably refracted light from some source that is not visible in the normal way.

Professor Jack Pettigrew, of the University of Queensland in Brisbane claims the lights are actually an inverted mirage of light sources which are, in some cases, hundreds of kilometres away over the horizon.

Is this the only explanation? It is perhaps somewhat more romantic to think of the lights as the spirits of lost bush walkers and others who died in the outback. Not at all scientific of course but somewhat more interesting.

Min min lights appear to operate in the same manner as landforms over the horizon that sometimes appear in inverted form floating in the air. This phenomenon is known as Fata Morgana.

Thermal inversion layers in the air trap cold dense air next to the ground with warm thinner air

48 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com above. This appears to refract light in such a way as to make it curve around the surface of the Earth.

Hoop Snakes & Trip Snakes (Oxyuranus Hulaii) Hoop snakes have the unusual ability to grasp their own tails and by using rhythmic muscular contractions form themselves into a hoop shape and roll along at a much greater speed than any normal snake can.

The Hoop Snake is not generally thought to be dangerous to people except for children who 'wag' school and spend their time riding bicycles through the bush. The snakes have a strange desire to bite bicycle tyres and the heels of those riding the bike. Since the snakes are not fast enough to catch motorbikes, they are only a serious threat to pedal cycles.

A close relative of the Hoop Snake is the Trip Snake. Trip snakes are well camouflaged, looking much like an ordinary stick lying on the ground. They are often found near walking trails through out the bush and are to be avoided at all costs.

Unlike the relatively harmless Hoop Snake, the Trip Snake is highly venomous and will first arch its

back to trip a victim before sinking in its fangs and injecting a dose of paralysing venom that quickly begins to liquefy tissue. If undisturbed, the trip snake can then drain the victim dry.

Was C. Y. O'Connor 'sung' to death? (Our thanks to Ben W. for bringing this one to our attention.)

Many people know about the tragedy of Charles Yelverton O'Connor and how his was driven to

49 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com suicide by stress and press reports that were outright lies. Few know of another claim that his was 'sung' to death by Aboriginal tribes who were angry about the removal or the rock bar at Fremantle.

The rock bar restricted the flow of salt water into the Swan River and was a popular place for the Aborigines to gather and spear fish. When the bar was removed they lost access to this important food source and apparently put a curse on O'Connor. When he took his own life the Aborigines believed that their magic had worked.

Belief in spirits and magic was (and in some cases still is) very strong among the Aborigines and in their culture, being 'sung' was an effective death sentence. There are reports that those who knew this had happened to them would simply give up and go away to die.

An article discussing the curse on O'Connor in more depth can be found at : http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/about-town/noongar-curse-followed-swan-river-blasting- 20130920-2u43w.html

C.Y. O'Connor

The Cockie Farmer A lot of people know that farmers are often referred to as cockies but not many know the origins of this name.

In the early days when people first started to clear the land of trees the main method of clearing for many was to ring-bark the trees and wait for them to die. The trees were then cut and set on fire but the process took a lot of time and meanwhile grubs and borers attacked the trees.

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This led large numbers of cockatoos to gather around the trees and feed on the insects attacking the wood. The aspiring farmers looked as though they were doing little but grow cockatoos and were given the title 'Cockie farmer', later this became abbreviated to just 'Cockie'.

Cooked Parrot 1 parrot 1 pot of boiling water 1 rock Remove feathers and gut the bird. Place in boiling water and add a small rock. When the rock is soft the parrot is ready to eat. (Alternately: Boil for 2 days, remove rock, remove parrot, throw parrot away and eat the rock.)

We take it from this recipe that parrots are a wee bit tough. This is obviously more of a joke than a real recipe but if you want to learn more about how the early pioneers actually did cook, make beer and generally survive you can read more at : http://www.wanowandthen.com/Pioneer-Recipes.html

Convict Gold C.C. Hunt was responsible for opening up a track to what would become the goldfields and he had with him a party of convicts who were used as labourers for sinking wells.

The story is told that the convicts found some gold and hid it with a view to escaping and returning later to pick up their find.

From what we have read to date it appears as though there was an escape attempt but the convicts were re-captured and nothing more was heard about the gold. The government at the time was not at all keen on any gold discoveries as this would have led to people abandoning their work in settled areas and there was a shortage of labour as it was.

Is there buried, somewhere along Hunt's Track, a stash of convict gold? I suppose we will never know.

The Eucla Nymph In an attempt to drum up a bit of publicity for the town, a story was spread in 1971 that a half naked blonde girl had gone feral and was living with the kangaroos.

How many visitors this attracted to the town remains a mystery but the press had a field day.

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Apparently the originator of this hoax was a kangaroo shooter named Laurie Scott and his girlfriend Geneice Brooker. A statue commemorating the 'nymph' stands outside the Flinders Medical Centre in Adelaide.

Eucla Nymph statue

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Lost Dutch Settlement in outback Australia An article published in the Leeds Mercury in 1834 made claims that a lost Dutch settlement had been found in the wilds of the Australian outback. Many years later the story was taken up by the Bush Tucker Man - Les Hiddins who did a television show featuring the story.

The original article read as follows :

" DISCOVERY OF A WHITE COLONY ON THE NORTHERN SHORE OF NEW HOLLAND " "A correspondent living near Halifax has favoured us with the following interesting communication

TO THE EDITOR OF THE LEEDS MERCURY.

GENTLEMEN, A friend of mine, lately arrived from Singapore, via India overland, having been one of a party who landed at Raffles Bay, on the north coast of New Holland, on 10 April 1832, and made a two-month excursion into the interior, has permitted me to copy the following extract out of his private journal, which I think contains some particulars of a highly interesting nature, and not generally known. The exploring party was promoted by a scientific Society at Singapore, aided and patronised by the Local government and its object was both commercial and geographical; but it was got up with the greatest secrecy, and remained secret to all except the parties concerned. (for what good purpose it is impossible to conceive): Extract from an unpublished manuscript journal of an exploring party in Northern Australia by Lt. Nixon.

May 15th, 1832. On reaching the summit of the hill, no words can express the astonishment, delight and wonder I felt at the magical change of scenery, after having travelled for so many days over nothing but barren hills and rocks, and sands and parching plains, without seeing a single tribe of aborigines excepting those on the sea coast and having to dig for water every day.

Looking to thc southwards I saw below me at the distance of about three or four miles, a low and level country, laid out as it were in plantations, with straight rows of trees, through which a broad sheet of smooth water extended in nearly a direct line from east to west, as far as the eye could reach to the westward, but apparently sweeping to the southward at its eastern extremity like a river; and near its banks, at one particular spot on the south side there appeared to bc a group of habitations embossomed in a grove of tall trees like palms.

The water I guessed to be about half a mile wide, and although the stream was clearly open for two thirds of the distance from the southern bank, the remainder of it was studded by thousands of little islands stretching along its northern shores: and what fixed me to the spot with indescribable sensations of rapture and admiration was the number of small boats or canoes with one or two persons in each gliding along the narrow channels [sic] between the islands in every direction, some of which appeared to be fishing or drawing nets. None of them had a sail, but one was floating down thc body of the stream without wind, which seemed to denote a current ran from east to west. It seemed as if enchantment had brought me to a civilised country, and I could scarcely resolve to leave the spot I stood upon, had it not been for the overpowering rays of a mid day sun affecting my bowels, as it frequently had done, during all the journey.

On reaching the bottom of the hill in my return to our party at the tents, I was just turning round a low rock, when I came suddenly upon a human being whose face was so fair and dress so white,

53 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com that I was for a moment staggered with terror, and thought I was looking at an apparition. I had naturally expected to meet an Indian as black or as brown as the rest of the natives, and not a white man in these unexplored regions. Still quaking with doubts about the integrity of my eyes I proceeded on, and saw the apparition advancing upon me with the most perfect indifference: in another minute he was quite near, and I now perceived that he had not yet seen me, for he was walking slowly and pensively with his eyes fixed on the ground and he appeared to be a young man of handsome and interesting countenance. We were got within four paces of each other when he heaved a deep and tremulous sigh, raised his eyes, and in an instant uttered a loud exclamation and fell insensible to the ground. My fears had now given place to sympathy, and I hastened to assist the unknown, who I felt convinced, had been struck with the idea of seeing a supernatural being.

It was a considerable time before he recovered and was assured of my mortality; and from a few expressions in old Dutch, which he uttered I was luckily enabled to hold some conversation with him; for I had been at school in Holland in my youth and had not quite forgotten the language. Badly as he spoke Dutch, yet I gathered from him a few particulars of a most extraordinary nature; namely, that he belonged to a small community, all as white as himself, he said about three hundred; that they lived in houses enclosed all together within a great wall to defend them from black men; that their fathers came there about one hundred and seventy years ago, as they said, from a distant land across the great sea; and that their ship broke, and eighty men and ten of their sisters (female passengers?) with many things were saved on shore.

I prevailed on him to accompany me to my party, who I knew would be glad to be introduced to his friends before we set out on our return to our ship at Port Raffles, from which place we were now dista The latitude of this mountain was eighteen degrees thirty minutes fourteen secs south.: and the longitude one hundred and thirty two degrees twenty five minutes thirty seconds east. It was christened Mount Singapore, after the name and in honour of the settlement to which the expedition belonged.

A subsequent part of the journal states further: That on our party visiting the white village, the joy of the simple inhabitants was quite extravagant. The descendant of an officer is looked up to as chief, and with him (whose name is Van Baerle,) the party remained eight days. Their traditional history is, that their fathers were compelled by famine, after the loss of their great vessel, to travel towards the rising sun, carrying with them as much of the stores as they could during which many died; and by the wise advice of their ten sisters they crossed a ridge of land, and meeting with a rivulet on the other side, followed its course and were led to the spot they now inhabit, where they have continued ever since. They have no animals of the domestic kind, either cows, sheep, pigs or anything else: Their plantations consist only of maize and yams, and these with fresh and dried fish constitute their principal food which is changed occasionally for Kangaroo and other game; but it appears that they frequently experience a scarcity and shortage of provisions, most probably owing to ignorance and mismanagement; and had little or nothing to offer us now except skins. They are nominal Christians: their marriages are performed without any ceremony: and all the elders sit in council to manage their affairs; all the young, from ten up to a certain age are considered a standing militia, and are armed with long pikes; they have no books or paper, nor any schools; they retain a certain observance of the Sabbath by refraining from their daily labours, and perform a short superstitious ceremony on that day all together; and they may be considered almost a new race of beings. "

We spent quite some time researching this particular story and came to our own conclusions that

54 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com you can read on our main website at : http://www.wanowandthen.com/Leeds-Mercury-Article.html

The Legend of Russian Jack The real story behind the legend seems to be that Jack caught up with another prospector on his way to the Halls Creek goldfields and the other fellow was very worn out, almost on his last legs. Jack is said to have first taken the other man's swag on to his barrow and when the other man could walk no further Jack loaded him onto the barrow and took him as far as he could before resting for the night. This went on until they reached their destination some 30 miles away. This story is taken from local press reports made closest to the date of the incident and is therefore likely to be the most accurate. ** (See 'Latest research' below.) All the other tales have grown up and been exaggerated over the years.

By the time newspaper men and other assorted tale tellers had finished with the tale, a 7' tall Russian Jack, the strongest man in Australia, had wheeled his sick mate 300 miles to Wyndham.

Russian Jack seems to have lived quite an interesting life and in one tale about his exploits he is said to have stolen (if temporarily) the local gaol in some outback Queensland town.

The story goes that Jack got into an argument and then a fight with a local business man and was locked up for the night. The local lockup was just a chain and a large log. Jack, feeling thirsty, simply picked up the log and went to the local hotel to get a drink. When the law arrived Jack was persuaded to return the 'gaol' if he got a bottle of brandy for carrying it back.

Jack was known as a tall, powerfully built man with a stern face but a kindly nature. He had a legendary appetite but his appearance and characteristics have been greatly exaggerated over time as his legend grew. He has been described as being just about every height from 5'10' to 7' tall. He was said to have Herculean strength (able to break an inch and a half steel bar with his bare hands according to one report). Most stories about him mention that he was well liked and had a good heart.

One problem with the stories told about Russian Jack is that there are known to have been several men who went by this nickname. One from the Perenjori area fell down a small open cut mine in the dark and when found later merely commented that he had missed a shift at work. This story was of course attributed to the original character and so the legend grew a little bit more.

What was the truth' At this juncture it is hard to say with certainty but from our research we believe his real name was John Fredericks and he was of Russian Finnish descent. He was undoubtedly strong but was under 6' in height.

P. Bridge in his book 'Russian Jack' says the following:

'The barrow men had very hard work on the road, many of them being old verging on sixty years of age. A young Russian made light work of it, however. He is a great, strong bullock of a fellow, and went ploughing through the heavy sand as though it were a macadamized road. His barrow, which was badly built, creaked and groaned, and laboured like an ancient craft at sea.

When within twenty miles of the fields he came up with another man lying utterly exhausted by the

55 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com side of his barrow. The Russian picked up the exhausted man's load and placed it on top of his own, exclaiming, 'Here mate, if you're too tired to walk, jump up on top'. Mate managed to walk but the Russian wheeled the double load right into the fields.'

Jack's death, like his life is shrouded in mystery. Reports say he died in 1904 and again in 1909. Official records show 1904 as the most likely date. In the end both memorials to Russian Jack, who I guess should have been called Finnish John, are incorrect in a number of important respects including when he was born, what he did, and when he died. But as the journalists say 'never let the facts get in the way of a good story.'

Latest research.

The most recent information we have found indicates that the legend of Russian Jack has been blown out of all proportion over the years. The following information comes from Frederick William Ponsonby Cammelleri, a prospector who was on the Halls Creek goldfields at the same time as Russian Jack. This is the earliest - and probably most accurate - account of what happened:

'A very big and powerful Russian who had a wheelbarrow made in Derby, with a special wide wheel, so as to make it easier in the soft sand, met two old men knocked out carrying their swag, with a 37 mile stage without water to Soda Springs ahead of them. Russian Jack, as he was known afterwards on the fields, put all their traps on his barrow, and off they went. This shows the good feeling one man felt towards another.'

From this account it can be clearly seen that there was no dying or sick man wheeled 300 miles to help as the legend states but simply a good hearted man helping out strangers who were in trouble.

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Moondyne Joe Although many people already know the story of Moondyne Joe it is such an important story in our folklore that we can hardly leave it out.

Moondyne Joe's major claim to fame is that he was Western Australia's most famous bushranger. His real name was Joseph Bolitho Johns. He was the son of a Welsh blacksmith and was imprisoned in 1849 for the theft of foodstuffs from the home of Richard Price in Pentwyn Clydach. Johns was 'in company' with John Williams (a.k.a. William Cross) who was already 'known to the police'.

Johns apparently conducted his own defence at his trial and was probably not such a good lawyer, as in 1853 he was transported to W.A. for 10 years. Johns was luckier than his companion as he came to the relatively enlightened colony of Swan River while William Cross was sent to Tasmania!

Joe arrived in Perth aboard the Pyrenees and became a ticket of leave man working at the tiny settlement of Moondyne. Two years later he was granted a conditional pardon (March 10th 1855).

One story says that he branded an unmarked horse without trying to find the owner and was gaoled in Toodyay for the 'felony'. He then escaped taking the 'evidence' with him - the dead horse minus its skin and incriminating brand being found later in the bush.

Another story is that he trapped strayed horses and returned them for the reward but that he was suspected of setting some of the horses loose himself and was therefore charged with horse theft.

While in gaol in Toodyay awaiting trial Joe managed to escape but had he waited for the trial he would have been much better off as he was acquitted of horse theft but charged with escaping custody and was sentenced to three years hard labour.

In the process of the first escape it is said that he stole the Resident Magistrate's horse and bridle but this may just be romantic myth and it is much more likely that he took the horse he was accused of stealing to get rid of the evidence.

This was the beginning of a cat and mouse game which 'Joe' and the law played for the next forty years. When recaptured, he seems to have served the next three years without incident and was released in 1864.

Just nine months later he was convicted of shooting a steer (he protested his innocence) and was sentenced to ten years. It was this conviction that he regarded as unfair and which prompted his escape soon after. He was recaptured after 12 months on the run and placed in irons but managed to escape again.

There are tales that at this stage Joe, leading a number of other escaped convicts, began robbing stores in the Avon Valley with a view to building up supplies to make an attempt to cross from Western Australia to the eastern colonies. On 17 September 1866 he is said to have robbed Everett's Store in Toodyay while Governor Hampton was staying in town. The robbery was notable for the fact that Joe and his compatriots managed to escape with guns, supplies, clothing, ammunition, and, of all things, thirty-six fancy ladies handkerchiefs. How they intended to use the handkerchiefs on their journey across Australia was never explained. This daring and successful robbery helped

57 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com create a legend that Joe had cut off the Governor's beard.

All of this part of the story may just be romantic myth as other sources state that Joe never had a firearm and never actually held anyone up. In fact the local population appeared to be amused by Joe's antics, with the possible exception of Governor Hampton who was made to look quite the fool by Joe's continued escapes.

A popular ditty at the time went:

'The Governor's son has got the pip The Governor's got the measles For Moondyne Joe has give 'em the slip Pop goes the weasel'

Hearing this sung by urchins in the streets of Fremantle must have irked the Governor no end.

Whatever the truth, he was captured once more on 29th of September and sent back to Fremantle where he was chained by the neck to a post. A special cell was built for Joe in Fremantle Gaol and when it was completed the Governor proudly declared that if Joe escaped from such a strong cell he would be given him his freedom. Joe remained in the cell for only four months.

Due to ill health he was allowed into the exercise yard where he was given stones to break. In one of the most extraordinary escapes ever to occur at Fremantle Gaol he built the stones up against the wall so that a space behind was hidden from the guard, dug through the wall, left his clothes hanging near the wall giving the impression that he was still inside the prison, and made his getaway in his underwear and boots.

This time his escape was successful and he remained free for nearly two years. He was recaptured at Houghton's wine cellar where he had gone for a drink to celebrate his two years of freedom.

Joe broke in to the cellar while the owner was away but was unlucky as when C.W. Ferguson (the owner at the time) returned he was accompanied by two policemen who were in the area on an unrelated matter.

At the time he had long flowing hair, was wearing a wheat sack and had a large stick as his only form of protection. He returned to Fremantle where he remained for the next four years until he was once again given a ticket of leave in 1871.

Joe is credited with being the first man to cross the newly completed bridge across the Swan River in Fremantle (beating Governor Hampton to it) but this is most likely just folklore inspired by a fictional book titled 'Moondyne' by John Boyle O'Reilly

Joe finally became a free man in 1873 (another source says 1879 but this was the year he got married). He subsequently married a widow, Louisa Hearn, and became something of a celebrated dandy living in the south west of the state.

In 1880 he worked at Witchcliffe and Karridale and although some sources say he discovered Moondyne Cave, it was actually discovered in 1879 by Fred Grange. The story goes that Moondyne

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Joe was lowered into the cave after a bet that he couldn't escape. Whether he got out again without assistance isn't recorded. He left the area in 1883.

In 1887 he returned to Toodyay and from there he travelled to the goldfields where, although he was now 60 years old (on our calculations he was 56 years old), he prospected for some years.

His wife contracted one of the many diseases rife on the goldfields at the time and died in 1893. Joe was heartbroken and apparently never recovered from her loss. He returned to the coast and lived in Kelmscott where he gained a reputation for insanity being known as Old Mad Moondyne Joe. He died in the Fremantle Lunatic Asylum on 13 August 1900. (Another source says he may have died in the Old Men's Home in Claremont in 1920, which if true, would have made him about 89 years old but it is more likely that he died in 1900.) One source quotes Johns' final resting place as being pauper's grave No. 580a in Fremantle cemetery. The grave is said to bear just his name, a pair of handcuffs and the Welsh word "rhyddid" meaning freedom.

This is the story, as far as the facts can be ascertained, of the state's most famous bushranger. Time and legend have conspired to make him a far more adventurous and daredevil character than this portrayal suggests. There is an account of the legend and the history of the man by Ian Elliot titled Moondyne Joe: The Man and the Myth.

Moondyne Joe

Before the Catalpa Fremantle Prison was referred to as 'The Establishment' and it didn't take much time for it's original occupants to look for ways of escaping.

Convicts had been brought to W.A. In 1850 to help alleviate the shortage of workers and this meant

59 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com that teams would go out to construction sites under the supervision of guards.

On the 25th of January 1859, five members of one such working party escaped into the bush and followed the river until they were able to find a small boat. They then made their way back down the Swan River and out into the open water of the Indian Ocean.

Their first 'port of call' was Garden Island where they robbed a family that was living there. They took a whaleboat belonging to the family and filled it with provisions, water, firearms etc.

Although their escape had been discovered quite quickly, there was a delay in following due to the absence of the police boat that had been busy ferrying the Governor to Rottnest Island. By the time the police arrived on Garden Island, the escapees were long gone.

They were spotted about four days later off Moore River and the pursuit began again. The chase continued north, day after day, night after night. Finally after many days the police caught up with them at Shark Bay. The chase had covered a whopping 800 kilometres!

When the prisoners were captured one of the original five was missing. Later questioning revealed that the missing man had been killed by his companions for drinking more than his fair share of the fresh water. His body was found months later and one of the re-captured prisoners was hanged for the murder and the other three were found guilty of 'robbery under arms'.

Funniest poem ever written ? Many Australian Folklore books contain more than the odd bush ballad or two. These are not really folklore and I think they tend to fill up what would otherwise be a bunch of blank pages, or at least lead to much skinnier folklore books. I don't intend to fill this book up with bush ballads but there is one in particular that I think deserves a mention. It is a parody of Banjo Paterson's classic 'The Man from Snowy River' it is called 'The Man from Kaomagma' and there is a bit more to the story of this version at the end. - When I first heard it I just about died with laughter This version is unique and I thought I had lost it, thankfully after a frantic search I did manage to find a copy I had backed up.

THE MAN FROM KAOMAGMA

There were movements at the station for the wog had passed around salmonella I regret had got away It makes you run like wild bush horses Sorbent made a thousand pounds and every body’s crack began to fray

All the tried and noted bush quacks from the stations near and far had mustered at the homestead overnight but their cures were ineffective from cement to Stockholm tar and it wasn’t plugged with trusty Araldite

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There was Harrigan who strained his piles when a hard'n got caught up the effort turned his face as white as snow so he took to liquid paraffin and drank it by the cup but now he don’t need that to make him go

And Clancy with his overflow came to lend a hand his gripes had had him crippled with the pain there was ne’er a dunny held him nor pedestal could take the hundred cusecs rushing down the drain

And one was there, a stripling with his backside tightly shut against the wogs that cut a mountain man to size but he wouldn’t go out back boys to that lonely little hut no diarrhoea from that one could be prized

He was hard and tough and wiry and he fumbled for his fly There was courage in his quick impatient tread And he bore the badge of courage in his bright and fiery eye but it didn’t stop him straining on the head

He was still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay an old man said, ‘He’s headin’ for the loo’ But a shout from inside, ‘Stay away!’ slowed his gallop up ‘There isn’t any room in here for you!’

So he waited sad and wistful as he strained his rear end ‘I think you ought to let me go,’ he said; 'I cannot hold much longer, and on that you can depend.’ for his face was turning absolutely red

He dashed across the paddock, fair to the other side and then he stopped, as if he’d had enough he screamed aloud, bent double and tore apart his strides and vented his frustration in the rough

And Clancy came a running, his face was quite a fright his wails would echo far into the hills for he couldn’t find a laxative to save him from the blight no senna pods or paraffin or pills

When the wog was at its zenith even he was seen to weaken but surrender? no! he’d not sit on the can

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till intestinal agony gripped him and suddenly he shrieked ‘Look out boys I’m going’ and off he ran

He was right among the leaders as they headed for the loo And the watchers lying round were struck down mute As he waved his stockwhip fiercely, and his desperation grew And he raced across the clearing in pursuit.

Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash, But they saw their well-loved dunny full in view, And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash, And off into the lavatory they flew.

He sent the flint stones flying with the patter of his feet he cleared his fallen comrades in his stride and the man from Kaomagma safely gained a toilet seat it was grand to find a loo unoccupied

Well he strained there single handed till his sides were white with foam though he ne’er allowed his sphincter to go slack but it was a false alarm, so he turned his head for home and alone and unassisted staggered back

And this hardy little mountain man could barely raise the trots while Kaomagma settled his insides from intestinal paranoia you may believe or not but without it he’d have surely filled his strides

Next morning we were sitting by the wood heap in the sun not saying much, just resting there quite idle with one eye on the dunny just in case we had to run then the mountain man came outside with his bridle

He saddled up his pony and he slowly rode away till his figure was a speck against the sky and we watched in thoughtful silence no one had a word to say then he violently exploded by and by

And down by Kaomagma where the little houses raise their weather beaten shingles to the sky

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where the stockman go from habit you can strain for seven days but you can’t get water from a well that’s dry

And where along the overflow they often tell the tale of mountain men who never know defeat the man from Kaomagma is a household word today how he exploded not admitting he was beat

Sadly I can't claim credit for this little gem but I did add 6 verses to the original as told to me at Cleaverville by Bluey Coppin from South Australia.

Some time later we were sent some information on the origins of this poem and were given permission to reproduce it. Obviously there has been a lot of re-working of this poem over time as the version we got from Bluey is quite different to the one that follows. In my own way I am proud to have continued the tradition of changes to this little gem with the 6 verses I added. Hopefully Banjo's spirit has had a giggle or two about the changes to his epic ballad as well.

Following is the information sent to me by Tony Sprent.

Comments: I came across your version of the Man from Kao-Magma. I thought you might be interested to know the original version of this and its history.

This was originally written by Alan Beswick and Janeen Grimes, both members of the University of Queensland Speleological Society in 1971 to commemorate the ceremonial burning of Cyril Cesspit, an outside dunny on my family's property at Moggill near Brisbane, and the opening of a new septic tank toilet in its place. I lived there in a little cottage while I was an undergraduate student. I built the new toilet when Simon, my son was born with the need for better sanitation. Various people mentioned in the poem were members of UQSS. The term cusec refers to cubic feet per second, a measure of volume, while Hunter Brothers was the company that removed the nightsoil in Brisbane for many years.

The original words are:

The Man From Kao-Magma by Bedpan Splatterson

There was movement at the station for the wog had passed around; Salmonella, I regret had got away. Made us run like wild bush horses; Sorbent made a thousand pound And Hunter Brothers brought their super dray

All the tried and noted cure-alls from the quacks both near and far Had been mustered at the homestead overnight But they all were ineffective, from cement to Stockholm tar It wasn’t even plugged by Araldite

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There was Herricane who got her piles when a hard’un got caught up The exertion turned her hair as white as snow Now she armed herself with paraffin and drank it by the cup She could go as oft as Simon Sprent could go.

And Lacey with his overflowing came to get a hand A master horseman crippled up with pain There was not a Sh’ouse could hold him not a pedestal could stand A hundred cusecs rushing down the drain.

And one was there ‘twas Ant Sprent, a small and weedy beast, He was something like a Headland undersized. He had a touch of dreaded lurgi, tho’ three parts gone at least He refused the cures that everyone advised.

For he hailed from Kao-Magma, up by Sulphanilamide Where the germs are twice as big and twice as tough, Where the guts are lined with leather; they’re impregnable inside, The man that holds his own is good enough.

When the lurgi neared its climax even Sprent was having strife It well might make the strongest sphincter yield His intestines were in turmoil for the first time in his life But he struggled like a man to keep it sealed.

He was hard and tough and wiry, just the sort that won’t say die- He had courage, even though confined to bed And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye, He stood up: “Look out I’m going”; that’s what he said.

He sent the flintstones flying as he raced off the excrete He cleared his fallen comrades in his stride Till the man from Kao-Magma landed safely on the seat; It was grand to find a loo unoccupied

He sat there, lone and stranded till his sides were white with foam By mortal combat, Lo! He forced it back, Till it halted, cowed and beaten; then he rose and headed home; The cheeks of his behind were blue and black.

Down on the Sprent selection where the new toot stands alone And Cyril’s ghost still stalks the dead of night, The man from Kao-Magma will be forever known For the story of his great internal fight.

Tony Sprent

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North - South rivalry. People seem to have a natural tendency to divide each other into the groups 'them' and 'us'.

This tendency is frequently highlighted between states and cities (especially between Sydney and Melbourne) but there is also a historic rivalry between those living north of the Swan River and those living to the south.

It is perhaps less pronounced today than it used to be but at one time some businesses operated with separate phone numbers for north and south customers.

Secession W.A. votes to secede from the Commonwalth of Australia

In 1933 the state government elections coincided with a vote on the secession of W.A. from the Commonwealth of Australia.

The result was a vote of 2:1 in favour of secession but legal technicalities meant the Commonwealth had to agree with the move to secede. As W.A. was (and still is) Australia's major export dollar earner, this was never going to happen.

A petition was taken to Britain by a delegation of Agent General, Sir Hal Colebatch, James MacCallum Smith, and the leader of the Dominion League, Keith Watson in 1934. The British government effectively washed its hands of the matter saying that it could not act without the Australian Federal Parliament's approval.

Tasmania and South Australia were watching proceedings with interest as they also had ambitions to secede from the Commonwealth but as the petition was not accepted and the effects of the Great Depression began to fade away the desire to secede quickly faded as well.

Why was it that just 32 years after W.A. had voted to join the federation, 2 thirds of the people wanted to break away again?

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This was mainly due to dissatisfaction with the way W.A. was treated by the Eastern States. W.A. has long been ignored by those who live on the eastern seaboard and even today when we produce vast amounts of export dollars from our mineral resources, W.A. still does not get its fair share of revenue and is treated like a 'poor relation' by the rest of Australia.

No Rationing in Three Springs. During WWII food was rationed and people had to provide ration stamps to get food and other necessities.

The Butcher in Three Springs, Arnie Sagger, didn't think much of the rationing system and used to let ladies purchase more or less whatever they needed. He said there was plenty of meat in Three Springs so there was no need for rationing.

Eventually the government inspectors came to town demanding to see Arnie's rationing journal which of course he had never filled out.

Arnie was so fed up with the interference in his business that he pointed to a creek across the road and said to the inspectors, “You would be doing more for the war effort if you were to go out there and shovel sand up one another's arses.”

The inspectors were not impressed and Arnie was charged with contravening rationing laws and abusing government officers. He was fined five shillings.

We need a lot more Arnie Saggers in this world.

Perth station 1926 This one isn't quite folklore but sometimes we come across great little descriptions that we think are worth sharing. This is from a booklet titled 'The Perenjori Episode, 1926' Ed. Sybil Davies.

'At 5.40pm on the 3rd of August 1926, Perth station was already brightly lit, dispelling the gloom of fading winter sun. The locomotive of 'mixed train No 69', was enveloped in a cloud of steam, as the driver leaned out of the cab, awaiting the green light of the guard. The firebox glowed brightly as the fireman added a few more shovelfuls of coal. A few passengers around the Refreshment Room, hurriedly swallowed tea or beer and dashed across the overhead bridge to join the train. A 'red-cap' (self employed porter), struggled with the heavy case of a 1st class passenger. A big, red faced passenger hugged a sugar bag of bottled beer as he boarded the coach. There was all that fury and excitement of departure - a whistle from the guard followed by an answering whistle of the locomotive, steam skidding off wheels, and the journey had begun. Just then, a late arrival threw his bag on the train and then leapt on to the moving coach, as the conductor closed the gate behind him. The cloud of steam still hung around the Horseshoe Bridge, eventually absorbing the disappearing green light of the guardsman.'

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Gold fever Inspired by a true story in the book ‘Mates and Gold’ and dedicated to the prospector near Peak Hill who was unable to go on and to his wife and his kids who were left to fend for themselves.

Gold Fever

On a squatter’s small selection Not far east of Northam town Waits a wife and her two children For her husband to come down

For he’s gone off chasing nuggets In a far off northern field And he’s gone to seek his fortune Gone to reap a golden yield

But the fare up cost a packet And the mining gear cost more And before he’d even got there He was stiff and tired and sore

Now he’s gone and staked a claim out And he’s worked it night and day But it hasn’t shown much colour And he cannot make it pay

Then he hears about a rush on In a field near Marble Bar So he sells his worthless claim up And he tracks another star

Then he’s far away from thinking Of his wife and kids and home And he takes up heavy drinking And he spends his days alone

And the heat and flies and rot gut Slowly start to rot his brain And the last bit of his money Quickly trickles down the drain

Then they find him late one morning Hanging bloated from a tree And his ghost now haunts the goldfield Where the wind blows wild and free

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And his wife still waits and wonders As she watches down the track In a hopeless lonely vigil For her loved one to come back

And each time a swaggy passes She runs out to see his face And though hope may spring eternal Her man’s lost without a trace

And to top off all this sadness His old claim was taken on Just another five feet deeper The next miner’s fortune shone

And so it was for many Who were drawn in search of gold Some got rich, some not a penny Some got dead and some got old

For the gold it was a fever That men caught like a disease And today still has the power To cajole and flirt and tease

(c) Marc Glasby Jan 2007

Misery's Trek In 1895 A.P. Brophy was prospecting in very dry country east of Coolgardie.

He was unable to find any water source for his camel to drink and later claimed that the camel had gone 600 miles without a drink.

Brophy claimed this was a world record.

As for the camel, it was named Misery - it is unknown whether the name was given to the poor beast before, or after the long dry trek.

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A.P. Brophy and Misery the camel

John Aspinall This isn't one of our usual 'Tall Tales' but it is dedicated to the memory of young John Aspinall who lost his life on the goldfields.

As we travelled east towards the goldfields we found sign boards along the way that gave excerpts from John Aspinall's diary as he travelled the same ground back in the 1890s.

John came from New Zealand to the W.A. goldfields with the hope of striking it rich. He made his way out through the wheatbelt staying at places like Boondi Rock where he wrote : 'Monday 25th March 1895 - We had a wash for the first time in 3 days and it was indeed a pleasure. It is a common saying that anyone who comes here should bring a waterbag, a can opener and a piece of hoop iron to scrape the dirt off with.'

'Wednesday 27th March 1895 - Early this morning we got to the Government bore in the middle of the sandplain. The water was brackish (i.e. salty to taste) and only fit for stock and they don't appear to care much for it.'

Further east he wrote: 'Bullabulling has a very good dam but lately a man was found drowned in it, so no one drinks the water - not that people in this country are very particular, but the man was suffering from fever.'

In 2014 we drove out to a remote mine site called Hawks Nest and found a lonely grave. Reading the inscription we were sad to find that this was young John's final resting place.

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Although we had done the trip in considerably more comfort than John could have ever imagined, we had trodden the same ground and some how we felt we shared a connection with this young man who had travelled so far and was to remain forever in this lonely place.

John was killed by a lightning strike and his grave may have been lost forever if it was not for Alf Thompson, a prospector who had stumbled across it and found the fading inscription -

Sacred to the memory of JOHN ASPINALL late of ...... Point Otago NZ Killed by ....ning March 18th 1896 Aged 23 years Gone but not forgotten

Alf tidied up the forgotten grave and began a personal quest to find out more about the young man whose grave he had located. Eventually he made contact with John's relatives in New Zealand and found John had left a diary. Alf wrote a book including entries from the diary and the mystery of this particular goldfields tragedy was solved.

And Some Found Graves: The Goldfields Diary of John Aspinall (Hesperian Press, 1993).

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Beer Strike It takes a lot to stop thirsty miners from drinking beer but in 1919 perhaps the only 'beer strike' in the history of Western Australia happened at Gwalia.

The miners complained about the manager, who they wanted sacked, about the dirty glasses, the size of serves, the price and even the brand of beer sold. They submitted a list of demands and 50 residents boycotted the State Hotel.

State Hotel at Gwalia

The strike lasted from March to September but it does not seem to be recorded which side won. The sly-grog shops in town would certainly have increased their trade during the boycott.

Wagon master at ten. In 1895 Joe Bridge decided to make a new start and move his family from Normanton in Queensland to the newly opened Kimberley region of Western Australia.

Joe, his wife and three young children, packed their possessions into a covered wagon and along with some hired help and their cattle set off on a 3000 trek across the top of Australia.

Joe was an experienced bushman but his hired hands took one look at the country west of Cloncurry and fled leaving Joe and his family to drive the wagon and move the cattle on their own.

The Bridge's youngest daughter (Margaret May) known as Mabel, was just 10 years old but she took the reins of the wagon and drove the outfit for the following months as the family made its way slowly westward.

As the family travelled, they came into contact with groups of Aborigines who had never seen a white person before. They were particularly fascinated by the white children and would sometimes follow the wagon for several days and camp nearby at night.

After almost 12 months the Bridge family reached Halls Creek. Joe staked his claim on a patch of land between Halls Creek and Wyndham and called it 'Mabel Downs' after his extraordinary daughter.

In 1909 Mabel married Tom Cole who was one of the pioneers of the Canning Stock Route.

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During World War II Mabel was living in Wyndham when it was bombed by the Japanese. The authorities ordered the evacuation of all women and children but Mabel refused to leave her husband. Aged 57 she eluded the authorities by getting on her horse and riding 80 kilometres to Ivanhoe Station.

Tom Cole died in 1943 and Mabel moved to Alice Springs where she died in 1964.

A tragic story of love and murder from the Goldfields .... Submitted by : Brad Donaldson

The picture below was taken at the old Kanowna Cemetery. It shows the graves of two people, a man, Jinarto Yano, and a woman, known as Osarno, who were murdered on December 10, 1902.

Osarno was one of nearly 60 Japanese prostitutes working in Kalgoorlie.

She formed an attachment with a laundryman named Chomatsu Yabu, who later claimed that they had sent marriage papers back to Japan, and were the parents of a child who had died (this child is also buried at Kanowna). It appears that the relationship soured and Osarno went to Kanowna to live with another man, Jinarto Yano.

Chomatsu knew where she had gone and when she didn’t respond to requests to return to Kalgoorlie, he travelled to Kanowna, shot her and Yano through the head and then fled.

He attempted to shoot the policeman who apprehended him in Kalgoorlie that night, but Constable Brown shot and injured Chomatsu.

Chomatsu Yabu was found guilty of wilful murder and sentenced to death. This was later commuted to 20 years imprisonment.

Donnybrook slaying Submitted by : Donnybrook Stone History Irishtown, Western Australia

29th June 1923 - SLEEPER HEWER SHOT - Mistaken for Kangaroo.

Donato PIZATTI, was a native of Pendilasco, a little village nestling in one of the mountain valleys of the Sandrio department of Lombardy.

He was shot dead in Brookhampton, not far from his camp where he was cutting sleepers.

MURDER or MISTAKEN IDENTITY ?

A 17 year old English youth was charged with his murder and was tried and found guilty of manslaughter, Thomas BROOKES. Brookes was sentenced to two years hard labor.

Brookes worked as a sleeper cutter also and admitted shooting Pizzatti, mistaking him for a kangaroo, he shot him from behind into the shoulder, and a second time in the back of the head.

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Brookes went to Pizzattis camp and took money, he the purchased new trousers and left for Perth. He was arrested and lead detectives to Pizzatti's body near Brookhampton (Pizzatti had been reported missing). It is reported Pizzatti had blood on his hands as if raised to his shoulder from the first shot, the coroners report shows the first shot was not fatal.

PENDILASCO is a small mountain village were Don Pizzatti toiled until maturity, on the loss of his mother, Don headed for America, working for some years to save to help his family, on returning to Pendilasco he purchased a small vineyard for his father Pietro. Having provided for his father he set forth again this time to Australia.

In 1914 he arrived in Western Australia, and at once made for the goldfields. He worked on the woodline outside Kalgoorlie, for some years. One who knew him then described Pizzatti as a quiet, inoffensive fellow, he was never communicative, and such a few particulars were learned of his early life, gleaned only on the few occasions when he took a little holiday and foregathered with his countrymen in a pub or wine shop.

Donato was worried about his father hearing from the priests letter's and it was time for him to come home.

Fired by the tales of a sleeper cutter's fabulous earnings, Don Pizzatti decided to try his luck in the South West and he left for the jarrah forests.

When the shears of destiny snapped his thread of life, Piazatti was camped about 10 miles outside Donnybrook (Brookhampton) working as a hewer. He was also a good grafter, be made good money, in spending he was noted as 'careful'. Talk amongst the hewers was he must have a 'fat roll' planted some where. Possibly this idle gossip may have had some bearing on the tragedy.

Donato Pizzatti will never again wield the axe or stack a sleeper again. Never again for him the bush or hillsides of the mountain home, nor did he ever make it home to his feeble father.

"May Peace be with Donato Pizzatti"

Pretty Boy no longer pretty. Pretty Boy (real name unrecorded) went on a bender in Mount Magnet and when he ran out of money got a very bad case of the D.Ts. Locals saw him wandering down the street with a cigar in his mouth, but as he got closer they realised that it was actually a plug of dynamite with a fuse attached.

As Pretty boy proceeded to light the fuse everyone in the vicinity dived for cover and there was a loud BANG! The result of which was Pretty Boy’s body – minus its head – lying slumped across the path.

Camping out - for three years! The first school teacher of the Brookton school (Thomas O'Laughlan) was provided a tent to live in by the education board when he was unable to find a house in town.

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Just two weeks after school opened there was a rainstorm that forced Thomas to move his bedding into the school building.

As he didn't have to rent accommodation the education board withdrew his residence allowance, living in a tent it considered was 'appropriate accommodation.'

After almost three years in the tent Thomas wrote to the board:

'I hope not to be compelled to spend the third winter in a tent, as my health was so much affected, last winter, that I was unable to perform my duties as thoroughly as I otherwise would.'

Poor Thomas was refused his request and in return asked that he be provided with a new tent as the old one was no longer habitable. Finally the education board acted and Thomas got his house. He went on to serve the Brookton community for 25 years.

No fishing on Sunday Evening 'On Sunday afternoon we set off for Oyster Creek. As we drew close we were surprised to see a number of cars parked around and about. Suddenly a man spotted us and, waving his arms frantically, he shouted to us to stop. We wondered what was wrong until a moment later we felt our wheels sinking into the soft sand; the spring tides had turned the parking area into a bog. For the next few hours, we joined the others in trying to get the cars un-bogged with no luck at all. Eventually at dusk, a local man, who was affectionately known as 'Ribs' because of his large size, arrived in his four-wheel-drive intending to have a relaxing few hours fishing. His heart must have sunk ... when he surveyed the scene before him, but, to his credit, he did not turn tail. He pulled out seven cars that evening ... we did hear a rumour that he vowed never again to go fishing at Oyster Creek on a Sunday evening.'

From the book 'Carnarvon and Apollo' by P. Dench and A. Gregg.

Switching on celebration ends with a bang! 'Everyone celebrated the switching on of a new system for the first time; a special celebration for the Digital Command System (DCS) seemed appropriate. Its futuristic cabinet with a 728-light panel, straight out of science fiction comics, suited the artistic temperament of of its engineer, Monte Sala - an Italian immigrant...... What Monte did not know was that the installers had arranged for a colleague to hide behind the DCS to bang the floor and blow smoke through it as Monte switched it on. Monte's reaction was much more excitable than expected.'

From the book 'Carnarvon and Apollo' by P. Dench and A. Gregg.

The Plane Truth Well this story just goes to show that folklore isn't something from our long distant past:

Place : Newman W.A. Time: Beer O'clock - November 2014 Scene: Light aircraft parked outside the pub.

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A 37 year old man, Anthony “Auto” Whiteway, (who is obviously a bit of a dill) decided that instead of walking or driving a car to the local pub, he would taxi his Beechcraft two seater plane through the traffic from one end of town to the other in order to get a beer.

By the time police arrived on the scene the Beechcraft was parked in the hotel car park, its owner inside enjoying a cold one, or two, inside the pub.

Whiteway was quoted as saying:

“I was a little hot, a little parched and I called into the pub and that was OK at first,” “I went to the toilet and when I came out all hell had broken loose. “A friend at the bar said a very angry police officer had come in and said, ‘Righto, you mob, who owns the plane parked out the front’.” The man is described as 'a local character' but the police were far from amused.

Sergeant McKenzie said police had examined the Road Traffic Act but would likely charge the man under the Criminal Code. "I would assume there would be an offence under the Criminal Code that may fit the bill. "I'm confident that he will be charged with something soon." Whiteway was duly charged with 'Endangering Life, Health or Safety of a Person' and copped a fine of over $5000!

We were unable to work out who owns copyright on this image.

Tennis - Everyone's favourite game in prison. Warders in Fremantle Prison may have wondered why tennis quickly became the most popular recreational activity in the prison after the tennis courts were opened near one of the high prison walls.

Prisoners quickly worked out that it was possible to cut a tennis ball, place a message inside and throw it over the wall to an accomplice waiting outside.

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Contraband could then be inserted into the ball and it was thrown back over the wall to the waiting inmate. There were a flurry of little green missiles going to and fro over the high prison wall and it was apparently some time before the authorities caught on to what was going on.

Needless to say, once this activity was discovered, tennis in prison became a thing of the past.

A life-long vigil. Leslie Michael Blom Jr. (Les or Blommy to his mates) is the son of HMAS Sydney crew member Leslie Michael Blom Sr., a stoker aboard the HMAS Sydney when she was engaged in the battle with the Kormoran during WWII.

Les was born soon after the sinking of the Sydney and so he never had the opportunity to meet his father.

He remembers talking to his mother about his father and was told that when his mum expressed her concern about her husband's safety, Les Sr. had always said 'Don't worry, if anything ever happens to the ship I'll get home somehow, even if I have to swim.'

From the material he has gathered about the Sydney, Les Jr. believes that the body of the sailor who washed up on Christmas Island was dressed in the overalls of someone from a ship's engine room. Les has always wondered if this might just have been his father who was attempting to fulfil his promise to his wife and trying to make it home any way he could.

With the advent of DNA testing, we believe that some tests were carried out on the remains from Christmas Island but Les was never asked to submit a DNA sample.

Les' mother worked for the Lord Mayor of Fremantle (Sir Lionel Sampson) and with the other wives and girlfriends of the sailors on board the Sydney, she would walk the short distance down to a spot near the docks at Fremantle and look out to sea, waiting for the ship to come back into port. This was the inspiration behind the bronze statue that was erected at the Geraldton HMAS Sydney

76 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com memorial, but the statue would have been much better placed in Fremantle where the wives would wait for their loved ones to come home.

Les' mother waited the rest of her life for her husband to return, she never re-married and in the years soon after the sinking, if she saw a sailor in uniform who from behind reminded her of her husband, she would go up and tap him on the shoulder in the hope that it was her husband back from the war. She died at the age of 73, still waiting for her husband to come home.

Alcohol poisoning When the ship 'Europa' (also known as 'the grog ship' due to the cargo it carried) was wrecked near Jurien in 1897, local water puller, Ned Broomhall, salvaged part of the cargo and stored it in a nearby cave (Whiskey Cave).

One day Ned became so drunk that he somehow contaminated some of the booze with strychnine and arsenic that he wound up drinking himself.

Passing drovers noticed his condition and sent a rider to the nearby Grigson homestead to fetch help.

John Grigson and his son Ed rode out and found Ned in a drunken stupor babbling about putting 'hot stuff' in the whiskey.

Luckily for Ned, the alcohol, food and poison in his stomach brought on such an intense bout of vomiting that all the poison was emptied out before it could cause him any harm.

Although it appears that Ned did no harm to anyone but himself, he was charged with attempted murder and served 6 months before being released and returning to work for John Grigson.

(It was later found that Ned's real name was Edwin Owen.)

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Cacker Alley Initially the town of Jurien Bay started to develop as a holiday destination for families further inland. Shacks were erected and a new well dug.

One of the first areas was known as Cacker Alley, due to the hundreds of bags of undersized crayfish that were brought in for later sale in other towns.

Apparently a signal was placed on a washing line visible to the boats to warm them if there were any fisheries inspectors around so that undersized crays could be dumped overboard. The system worked pretty well as few people were ever caught.

Cacker Alley is now known as Snook Reserve.

Rules for teachers 1872 From 'Rockingham The Visions Unfold' R. Draper

1. Teachers each day will fill lamps , trim wicks and clean chimneys. 2. Each morning the teacher will bring a bucket of water and a scuttle of coal for the day's session. 3. Make your pens carefully. You may whittle nibs to the individual taste of the pupils. 4. Men teachers may take one evening each week for courting purposes or two evenings if they attend Church regularly. 5. After ten hours in school, the teachers may spend the remaining time reading the Bible or any other good books. 6. Women teachers who marry or engage in unseemly conduct will be dismissed. 7. Every teacher should lay aside from each pay a goodly sum of his earnings for his benefit during his declining years so that he will not become a burden on society. 8. Any teacher who smokes, uses liquor in any form, frequents the pool or Public Halls, or gets shaved in a Barber Shop will give good reason to suspect his worth, intention, integrity and honesty. 9. The teacher who performs his labour faithfully and without fault for five years will be given an increase of twenty-five pence per week in his pay, providing the Board of Education approves.

The hazards of the bush. George Clifton was working at Alverstoke reaping grain when he was bitten by a black snake with a red belly (said to be very deadly by the local Aborigines). The snake had wrapped three coils around his forearm and as he tried to remove it, it bit him. He rushed to the house and sprinkled gun powder over the bite site and then ignited it. After doing this three times he hurriedly rode off to Australind to seek medical care.

On arrival the the wound was cauterised and laudanum and ammonia was applied. Even though the treatment sounds almost worse than the original bite, George apparently suffered no lasting ill effects.

A tale from Brunswick Junction. There is a tale about a dairy farmer named Jack Shine who used to supply milk to Browne's and how one day he arrived at the delivery area with a very battered 12 gallon milk churn. When asked about the condition of the churn Jack said it had fallen off his wagon. Later in the pub he was heard

78 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com to remark that the dents had actually come from the blunt end of an axe and he was now delivering 11 gallons and being paid for 12.

The very same farmer is also credited with selling an old horse to a priest with the words 'he doesn't look so good but he's all right.' When the priest returned a couple of days later complaining that the horse was blind, Jack simply said, 'I told you he didn't look so good.'

Amorous Abdul and Lovely Lily Abdul Kahn was a cameleer who worked in the Gascoyne region. Over a long period of time he built p a good business carting goods across the lonely interior of Western Australia. His team of 100 camels were fine beasts but finally Abdul grew weary of living a single life and he dared to think about finding a wife and a European one no less!

A station manager gave Abdul assistance placing an advertisement in a Perth newspaper, seeking a pretty, well-developed young woman who could cook. A photo was also required. Abdul received 279 photos and slowly he whittled them down to one choice, Lily.

Abdul sent her one hundred pounds to cover the cost of her wedding dress and her fare up to Carnarvon. He did not have to wait long before he received a telegram informing him that his bride- to-be was involved in an accident on a tram and that her treatment was going to be expensive.

Abdul duly sent another hundred pounds and waited.

In time Lily recovered but then there was another tragedy. The boarding house she was staying in burned down and with it all her clothes and the fare she needed to get to Carnarvon. Abdul sent yet more money and again Lily found herself in trouble. She was rushing to the train on her way to Fremantle to catch a ship to Carnarvon and the taxi she was in was in an accident. She even sent a news clipping showing a picture of a woman on a stretcher that she said was her.

Again she was in the hands of those greedy doctors and needed more money.

Abdul ground his remaining teeth in frustration but again he sent his hard earned money south.

Next it was Lily's brother who had taken her money, saying no sister of his would wed a coloured man no matter who well placed he was. Her brother had even promised that he would return and cut her throat! If only she had the money to get to her beloved Abdul and find protection in his arms.

Again Abdul sent money down to Perth and again after a time he received a message that Lily was once again in trouble and had fallen among thieves but not to worry this time there was to be no stopping her.

Abdul waited, and waited but Lily never arrived. In all the had be duped out of six hundred pounds.

Scams, it seems are nothing new in this world....

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The Sandfire Sleazy Sleeveless Shirt Club. The tradition began on the 28th of May 1981 when mates of truckie Tom Sheehan decided to forcibly trim the sleeves of his rather ragged shirt. Somehow this one prank evolved into a way to raise money for the R.F.D.S.

You could become a member by cutting off a sleeve and pinning it to the roof.

For the privilege of destroying your item of clothing and to join the 'club' you paid a $10 fee. If you also cut off your other sleeve, you got an $8 discount.

By 1986 over $2000 had been collected for the R.F.D.S. and the roof was decorated with over 800 sleeves of varying types.

How long this tradition went on for remains a mystery.

What a bastard of a place to die Ches Stubbs, a whaler in Albany, got his leg ripped off when it was caught up in a coil of forerunner.

Ches, thinking his time on Earth was just about over said; "What a bastard of a place to die"

John Bell landed the spotter float plane in huge seas and Ches was loaded onto the plane. With the rough sea there seemed to be no way to get airborne again.

The wingtips were frequently submerged and the two whale chasers formed in line to try and give the small plane some shelter. After taxiing for miles the float plane was suddenly lifted up by an enormous wave and had just enough time to get airborne.

Ches actually survived the ordeal and retired to a small home in Albany.

Rusting whale chaser at Albany

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Other stories from Whim Creek Lester Davis was employed to educate the children of Whim Creek. Trips down to the coast at Balla Balla were a frequent occurrence and Lester used to catch fish by lighting a plug of gelignite and throwing it into the water (this was a fairly common practise at the time).

On one occasion something went wrong and the gelignite exploded before Lester had thrown it resulting in the loss of both his hands. He then had to endure the 15 mile trip back to Whim Creek and then a further 52 miles by car to reach Roebourne where he was attended to by the local doctor.

Against all the odds he did survive and eventually returned home to England.

Other oddities of local history include an alcoholic camel that used to steal patrons beer. The camel was apparently moved south to Wiluna suffering from cirrhosis of the liver.

There was also a large python that used to live in the wooden rafters of the pub. Its eventual fate is unknown.

Whim Creek Hotel

Good enough. Wally Noakes and his wife were travelling Australia. Wally's wife had lost both legs and had to use a wheelchair.

One of the many problems they faced was getting the wheelchair through toilet doorways, so Wally used to take a tape measure to check on the width when arriving at a new hotel.

Beadon Hotel was no different to most, the, doorway was too narrow.

When Martin, the publican, found out he said 'We'll soon fix that' and grabbed a crowbar and wrenched off half the door frame.

Wally said 'That's good enough for us' and he and his wife took up residence and stayed in Onslow.

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So you think working conditions these days are bad? Few people realise just how much the union movement in Australia contributed to the improvement of working conditions for almost every worker.

Let's step back for a little while to the 1880s and see just how bad things were:

Labourers working in camps had little or no sanitation. Employers argued that providing sanitary collection services was a blow against free enterprise. The death of a labourer was no loss to an employer as they cost nothing to train and were easily replaced.

Butchers and bakers usually worked between 70-90 hours a week. Barmen could often work 15-17 hours a day, six days a week plus and extra 2 hours on Sunday. Shop assistants work 12-14 hours a day on weekdays and from 7am till midnight on Saturdays. Almost all shop workers worked at least 60 hours a week and grocers' assistants worked 12 hours a day 6 days a week.

Barmaids were ruthlessly exploited and were employed mostly by the physical attractiveness. Many worked 14-18 hours a day. A waitress could expect to work 75 hours a week. As their beauty faded so did their employment prospects until many could find no work at all besides prostitution. It was said there were three final stages to many barmaids lives, 'going among Chinamen, then to hospital, then to the grave.'

Even after laws began to be passed to tighten up on the worst abuses of workers, there were few inspectors and some of the existing ones would even telegraph their inspections to the employers ahead of time so that under-age workers and other workers that might prove to be inconvenient, could be removed from the premises during the inspection.

It was only organised unions with representatives in every work place and full-time government officials with the support of governments that brought an end to the tyranny imposed by employers over their work forces.

Alcohol, the cure all and picky hospitals. Before the discovery of bacteria and viruses there were many theories about how illness was caused.

One of the favourite 'remedies' of both doctors and patients was alcohol.

One female patient with TB was given 7 bottles of rum, 12 bottles of brandy and 61 bottles of spa water in her first 4 weeks in hospital.

Hospitals themselves were usually privately funded and as funds were always tight, it was common for pregnant women, the insane and anyone who seemed to by dying to be refused admission.

Why? Because they all cost too much money to treat.

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Joe and the Governess Back in the days before sealed roads and bridges, trucks used to cart supplies from Carnarvon out to the stations and bring back produce and sometimes passengers over what were little more than goat tracks.

When it rained the trucks often got stuck for days on end in bogs or at impassable rivers.

One one occasion a driver was asked to collect a young governess from one of the stations as she had to make a connection with a ship in Carnarvon. The driver was running behind schedule and was afraid he would not be able to get the young lady to Carnarvon in time for her to catch the ship.

Along the track he met another truck coming in the opposite direction. He waved the driver down only to find it was a young fellow named Joe. Now Joe, despite being 6 feet tall, young and quite handsome, was not what you would call a 'lady's man'. Joe did everything possible to keep away from the fairer sex including lodging in a small shack instead of a boarding house where there were house maids.

The first driver brought up the subject of the young governess and the fact that he was unlikely to make it to Carnarvon and back out to the station in time. Joe would have none of it, no woman was EVER going to get in the cab of HIS truck!

The truck drivers parted ways, Joe heading out towards the stations and the first driver now sorely pressed for time, dashing toward Carnarvon as there was now no choice but to try and get back for the governess.

Although the going was tough, the first truck still made good time and after unloading and refuelling it was soon heading back out to the station.

Our first driver did all he could to get out to the station in time and in the end he arrived with time to spare. He rushed up to the homestead to look for the governess only to be told that Joe had picked her up a couple of hours earlier.

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He asked about Joe's 'no women in the cab' policy and the station owner laughed. The truck had pulled out with Joe in the cab and the young lady perched on top of a load of wool was waving and having a great old time.

The problem was that along the track there were a series of low telegraph wires across the road. These only just cleared the loads of wool and anyone sitting on top who was not aware of the wires could easily be swept off the top and either killed or injured.

Worried about this, the first driver set off in pursuit of Joe's truck. Late in the night he caught a glimpse the truck pulled off by the side of the road. Switching off his engine and lights he walked over to find Joe and the Governess fast asleep, not only that but they were cuddled together in a swag.

Not wanting to disturb them he made his way back to his truck and left as quietly as possible.

Later, back in Carnarvon, he made a point of finding Joe to ask about the governess and whether she managed to catch her ship. Joe replied with a sheepish grin, 'Oh she's not going now, we are going to get married!'

When the winnings ran out Out on the Gascoyne stations men worked hard and put in long hours. Entertainment was very limited and time off was usually restricted to a couple of weeks a year.

When they got time off, most would head for Carnarvon on what was commonly called a 'pinkeye'. This consisted mostly of drinking as much as possible and having the time of their lives until the money ran out and they headed back out to the stations for another year of hard work.

An old timer by the name of Tom had a bit of luck one year and won ten thousand pounds in a lottery. Tom celebrated mightily, buying drinks and presents for old friends and new. At some point he was persuaded to put his money in a bank for safe keeping. From then on instead of using cash he was simply able to write a cheque to pay his bills. Tom had not been too keen on the idea to start with as he knew nothing about banks and cheques but it seemed to work well in the end.

Tom rode around town in a taxi and was always followed by a group of hangers on, all hoping to get something and Tom didn't disappoint. As generous as the day was long, Tom spent money like water. Then suddenly he was gone, back out to the station and back to work.

It was another year before he showed up in town again and the local publican was curious about Tom's sudden departure the year before. He asked Tom why he had left in such a hurry and Tom simply said the money had run out and so it was time to go back to work. Now the publican was no fool when it came to money and he knew it was just not possible for Tom to have spent all his money despite his generosity. The publican got in touch with the local bank manager to enquire about Tom's bank balance and was told it was still quite a healthy 5,000 pounds.

The publican spoke to Tom again and asked him how he was so sure his money had all gone. Tom's reply; “Of course I was broke. I couldn't very well be anything else, could I, when there were no more cheques left in the cheque book?'

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The White Divers of Broome The White Australia Policy sought not only to restrict non-European immigration but also to remove non-Europeans from the country.

A constant thorn in the side of the policy was the pearling industry that made heavy use of Malay and Japanese workers.

The government set about making a change to this by bringing in white divers in 1912 and forcing the pearlers to use them on their boats.

This move was highly unpopular in Broome as the white divers were paid thirteen pounds a week compared to 2 pounds for Malay or Japanese divers. Also the European divers got a 40 pound bonus for each tonne of shells they brought up. Coloured divers had to bring up 8 tonnes of shell to get that amount of money.

Right from the start the white divers felt they were in a hostile environment. Neither the pearlers or the Malay and Japanese wanted them in Broome.

The government experiment was doomed to failure because it was easy for the pearling boats to take the white divers out to areas already stripped of pearls.

By the end of the first season the lead diver, Thomas Webber was dead in what some considered suspicious circumstances and two of his comrades were seriously injured. The men felt bitter and betrayed and one of the men, John Nowry, felt strongly enough to give evidence before a Royal Commission into pearling that was held in 1913.

Nowry said he was certain that the white divers had been taken to areas already worked out and that there was no difference between Europeans and Asians when it came to detecting pearl shell on the sea floor.

In the end the pearlers won and by 1913 there were 1166 Japanese and 634 Malays and 107 other non-Europeans working on the boats. There were no Europeans at all on the boats.

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Turning a blind eye. Early Broome was known as a wild and untamed town in the pearling days. The way things were done in this small isolated community were quite different to the towns 'down south'.

Former Broome pearler, H.V. Howe wrote :

'Once – and only once each night – the policeman on beat went around the gaming houses. Each player put a shilling in the hat for him and the proprietors invited him, free of charge, to 'mark a ticket' in the house lottery, which with luck might earn him 5 to 40 pounds at the end of the week. It was an unpardonable breach of etiquette to call twice at the same house on any one night and any constable who did so received a severe reprimand from the Sergeant of police who – with due ceremony on the first of each month – received a deputation of Asiatic citizens at the police station bearing tribute in recognition of his services.'

The Old Broome dies World War 1 saw the end of an era in Broome. Just prior to the war pearl shell had been at an all time high of 440 pounds per tonne. With the declaration of war all contracts were cancelled and pearl shell became worthless over night.

Many of the younger pearlers decided to sign up with the army and before they all headed south there was a celebration at the local hotel run by Bill Ward.

Accounts at the pub were usually settled at the end of each month and meanwhile patrons signed chits. These chits like the pearl shell were now all worthless.

At the farewell party Bill Ward put the box of chits under his arm, jumped up on a table and called for silence.

'Boys, the party's on me. The town's broke and I'm broke. I'll be with you as soon as I've been through the chaff-cutter (bankruptcy court). I haven't lost a tenner on chits all the years I've been in the pub, but ' (he held up the box of chits) 'I've got over a thousand quids worth here and now

86 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com they're not worth the paper they're written on.'

So saying he emptied the box onto a metal tray and set fire to the lot.

A Pig of a deal. Captain Shaw, his wife Eliza and their children were early settlers in W.A. and in 1830 they were living in a riverside shack waiting patiently for their land grant to be approved. Captain Shaw and a friend were out hunting one day and bagged a pig that presumably had escaped into the bush at some point since settlement. Shaw took an amount of the meat to Fremantle in order to sell it but he met another settler who was suffering from scurvy. The settler offered to swap the pork for some salted beef but Shaw, seeing the man's condition, declined the beef and gave the man his pork. Mrs Shaw takes up the story: "Mr. William Locke Brockman (whose family the Shaws had known in England) came to visit and brought with him Mr Lyon who said; 'Mr Shaw I have frequently heard of you. You, I believe, have a large family and have been in the colony a long time but have not yet got a grant.' Shaw agreed that such was the case, at which Mr Lyon continued; 'I have had the pleasure, although unknown to yourself of seeing you before. Do you remember giving a person some fresh pork and would take nothing in return? I stood near enough to hear all that passed and am now delighted in my turn, to be able to render a service to so kindly a gentleman. I have a grant of land which I cannot make use of. I have had money offered for it but you and your family shall have half of it. I will come over tomorrow and give you a letter to the Governor to that effect.' All this seems fictitious but can be authenticated by Mr Brockman as well as by Mr Lyon's letters." So the kind gift of some pork translated into a grant of land for Captain Shaw and his family.

Tasty 'Maggots' Edmund Frederick DuCane was 22 years old when he arrived in Western Australia as a Lieutenant with the 20th Company of Sappers and Miners. The men were here to supervise convict building projects and DuCane was not initially impressed with 'dirt' being the 'prevailing feature of the colony'.

After a while his attitude softened somewhat and in one letter he wrote back to his parents;

“Another thing I did was to eat some beastly-looking thing they get out of dead blackboys – a large white maggot. It tastes beautiful, just like a nut, but very few white fellows eat them.”

Edmund had neglected to add that 'blackboys' are plants, not as his parents obviously thought, deceased Aborigines. He had quite some explaining to do to calm his shocked parents in his next

87 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com letter home.....

Weird Law At the time of writing this, it is actually illegal to be in possession of more than 50kg of potatoes. Thanks to the insanity that is The Potato Marketing board, this law has been on the books since 1946. Fines for this offence can be up to $2000 for a first offence and $5000 for subsequent offences.

A Letter This one isn't exactly folklore but a reminder of how some things once were. It comes from a letter written by a young man in the Koorda area and was fond in the book 'Koorda - A district emerges' by H. Antonio-Crake. "The Lewises have a nice place. Their four-roomed house is made of canvas and there is a carpet in one of the rooms, covering the beaten anthill floor. The other floors are "carpeted" with bags which have been sewn together."...... "You asked about the mail, Mother. Well, we don't have any regular service yet but I hear there's to be one soon. Everyone has a mail box though, and anyone planning a trip to Dowerin spreads the word around, if possible. Those who want letters posted leave them stamped, or with money, in their boxes for the traveller to pick up en route...... No-one ever passes a mail box up here without looking in it and attending to any mail or messages."

Shot in Self Defence It takes a LOT of reading to find these stories but here is another one from the same book as the one above. 'Mrs. W. Downie recalls a visit from a Police Officer many years ago. He arrived at the Downie home just as the family were about to sit down to a meal of roast poultry. As he savoured the delicious aroma wafting from the dining table, Mr. Downie apologised, explaining that he could not invite him to dinner, because the poultry on the plates was seasoned wild turkey, a protected bird by law. Calmly the law man said, “It isn't an offence to eat wild turkey, providing it has been shot in self defence.” He stayed to dinner.'

John's Diary The tale of New Zealander, John Aspinall and his journey from his home country to the goldfields near Laverton where sadly, he was struck by lightning and killed we have told earlier in this book. We recently bought a copy of 'And some found Graves' which is a compiled copy of John's diary (by Alf Thompson). There are a number of entries that are worth putting up here to give some insight into the gold-rush era in the late 1890s and the views of a 'tothersider' about Western Australia at the time. "The first impression I got of Perth was the foreign aspect of the place and the people generally. In other capitals, I seem to feel among my own tribe as it were but here things are different. Perth has a character of its own - it is neither colonial nor English, but simply foreign, everything

88 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com and everybody having a strange uncivilised look...... House rent is exceedingly high and the necessities of life, except clothing rather, dear. The city itself is rather pretty, especially when viewed from a neighbouring hill...... You meet every few minutes all over the town, Afghans, Chinamen, Hindoos, Blacks etc., their styles of dress adding to the foreign element of the character of the place...... The hotel where we are stopping is very comfortable and a good table is kept. Our chambermaid is a Singapore "boy" and the washerwoman a Hindu "boy". (N.B. everyone with a black skin is a boy no matter of what age.)...... Finally, Perth is not such a bad little place for WA although certainly a little dull and backward." ..."Another feature of the country is the presence of flies. They are exactly the same as the common housefly of NZ in appearance but as regards obnoxiousness and a general cause for worry they are equal to a hundred NZ ones rolled into one. They fly into your mouth, promenade all over your face, buzz into your ears, and keep rushing into your eyes until you nearly go mad. Nothing will keep them off and some will even stop in the corner of your eye until death ensues...... Usually, when you reach after a fly with the rapidity of lightning, the blow descends without hurting anything but your own feelings and the fly simply flies away about 6 inches and settles back in your eye with exasperating coolness."

Two Minutes Silence "One day I was with Jim on the way to Rottnest with a full load of passengers. I was piloting the plane. Jim suddenly looked at his watch and leaned over and closed off both throttles. I thought 'Oh well, Old Jim must have decided to finish it all.' We were at about 6,000 feet so I put the plane into glide mode. We were losing height pretty rapidly. After a couple of minutes (we were down to about 1,600 feet by this time), Jim looked at his watch again and opened the throttles. 'Armistice Day', he said. 'Two minutes silence'.

From the book 'Jimmy Woods, Flying Pioneer' by J. Lewis.

A Wing and a Prayer 'On one occasion Jimmy seated a passenger on each of the [Bristol] plane's wings, their legs dangling over the leading edge, and their hands grasping the flying wires. They had missed the boat to Singapore in Derby and were desperate to catch up with it in Broome. With all the passenger seats booked, it was the only solution Jimmy could offer. "It's only an hour's flying and we'll be landing in Broome." he said. "With good weather you'll enjoy it."' From the book 'Jimmy Woods, Flying Pioneer' by J. Lewis.

Lang In her book, 'Lonely for my land', Tish Lees says of Lang Hancock: "With Lang, what you saw was what you got. There was no pretence or posturing or beating about the bush. He didn't suffer fools gladly and was indifferent to what people thought of him." Tish relates a story about Lang during his jet-setting travels to other countries. His pilot accidentally

89 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com dropped Lang's dilly bag on the tarmac and when he investigated the contents he found a tin plate, can opener and two tins of camp pie. When the pilot asked Lang about it Lang replied : "With the tucker they dish up over here you can't eat, you never know when you might need a decent feed."

Lang.

Lost Dutch Settlement Our longest folklore piece to date concerns a lost Dutch settlement somewhere in the interior of Australia : For many years there has been speculation about Dutch settlements in Australia that pre-date English settlement. One article, in particular, has been responsible for a great deal of talk about the possibility. Following is a transcribed copy of the article exactly (including errors) as it appeared in the Leeds Mercury in 1834. A discussion of the merits of this article is given further down on this page. DISCOVERY OF A WHITE COLONY ON THE NORTHERN SHORE OF NEW HOLLAND A correspondent living near Halifax has favoured us with the following interesting communication TO THE EDITOR OF THE LEEDS MERCURY. "GENTLEMEN, A friend of mine, lately arrived from Singapore, via India overland, having been one of a party who landed at Raffles Bay, on the north coast of New Holland, on 10 April 1832, and made a two-month excursion into the interior, has permitted me to copy the following extract out of his private journal, which I think contains some particulars of a highly interesting nature, and not generally known. The exploring party was promoted by a scientific Society at Singapore, aided and patronised by the Local government and its object was both commercial and geographical; but it was got up with the greatest secrecy, and remained secret to all except the parties concerned. (for what good purpose it is impossible to conceive): Extract from an unpublished manuscript journal of an exploring party in Northern Australia by Lt. Nixon. May 15th, 1832. On reaching the summit of the hill, no words can express the astonishment, delight and wonder I felt at the magical change of scenery, after having travelled for so many days over nothing but barren hills and rocks, and sands and parching plains, without seeing a single tribe of aborigines excepting those on the sea coast and having to dig for water every day.

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Looking to thc southwards I saw below me at the distance of about three or four miles, a low and level country, laid out as it were in plantations, with straight rows of trees, through which a broad sheet of smooth water extended in nearly a direct line from east to west, as far as the eye could reach to the westward, but apparently sweeping to the southward at its eastern extremity like a river; and near its banks, at one particular spot on the south side there appeared to bc a group of habitations embossomed in a grove of tall trees like palms. The water I guessed to be about half a mile wide, and although the stream was clearly open for two thirds of the distance from the southern bank, the remainder of it was studded by thousands of little islands stretching along its northern shores: and what fixed me to the spot with indescribable sensations of rapture and admiration was the number of small boats or canoes with one or two persons in each gliding along the narrow channels [sic] between the islands in every direction, some of which appeared to be fishing or drawing nets. None of them had a sail, but one was floating down thc body of the stream without wind, which seemed to denote a current ran from east to west. It seemed as if enchantment had brought me to a civilised country, and I could scarcely resolve to leave the spot I stood upon, had it not been for the overpowering rays of a mid day sun affecting my bowels, as it frequently had done, during all the journey. On reaching the bottom of the hill in my return to our party at the tents, I was just turning round a low rock, when I came suddenly upon a human being whose face was so fair and dress so white, that I was for a moment staggered with terror, and thought I was looking at an apparition. I had naturally expected to meet an Indian as black or as brown as the rest of the natives, and not a white man in these unexplored regions. Still quaking with doubts about the integrity of my eyes I proceeded on, and saw the apparition advancing upon me with the most perfect indifference: in another minute he was quite near, and I now perceived that he had not yet seen me, for he was walking slowly and pensively with his eyes fixed on the ground and he appeared to be a young man of handsome and interesting countenance. We were got within four paces of each other when he heaved a deep and tremulous sigh, raised his eyes, and in an instant uttered a loud exclamation and fell insensible to the ground. My fears had now given place to sympathy, and I hastened to assist the unknown, who I felt convinced, had been struck with the idea of seeing a supernatural being. It was a considerable time before he recovered and was assured of my mortality; and from a few expressions in old Dutch, which he uttered I was luckily enabled to hold some conversation with him; for I had been at school in Holland in my youth and had not quite forgotten the language. Badly as he spoke Dutch, yet I gathered from him a few particulars of a most extraordinary nature; namely, that he belonged to a small community, all as white as himself, he said about three hundred; that they lived in houses enclosed all together within a great wall to defend them from black men; that their fathers came there about one hundred and seventy years ago, as they said, from a distant land across the great sea; and that their ship broke, and eighty men and ten of their sisters (female passengers?) with many things were saved on shore. I prevailed on him to accompany me to my party, who I knew would be glad to be introduced to his friends before we set out on our return to our ship at Port Raffles, from which place we were now distant. The latitude of this mountain was eighteen degrees thirty minutes fourteen secs south.: and the longitude one hundred and thirty two degrees twenty five minutes thirty seconds east. It was christened Mount Singapore, after the name and in honour of the settlement to which the expedition belonged. A subsequent part of the journal states further: That on our party visiting the white village, the joy of the simple inhabitants was quite extravagant. The descendant of an officer is looked up to as chief, and with him (whose name is Van Baerle,) the party remained eight days. Their traditional

91 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com history is, that their fathers were compelled by famine, after the loss of their great vessel, to travel towards the rising sun, carrying with them as much of the stores as they could during which many died; and by the wise advice of their ten sisters they crossed a ridge of land, and meeting with a rivulet on the other side, followed its course and were led to the spot they now inhabit, where they have continued ever since. They have no animals of the domestic kind, either cows, sheep, pigs or anything else: Their plantations consist only of maize and yams, and these with fresh and dried fish constitute their principal food which is changed occasionally for Kangaroo and other game; but it appears that they frequently experience a scarcity and shortage of provisions, most probably owing to ignorance and mismanagement; and had little or nothing to offer us now except skins. They are nominal Christians: their marriages are performed without any ceremony: and all the elders sit in council to manage their affairs; all the young, from ten up to a certain age are considered a standing militia, and are armed with long pikes; they have no books or paper, nor any schools; they retain a certain observance of the Sabbath by refraining from their daily labours, and perform a short superstitious ceremony on that day all together; and they may be considered almost a new race of beings. " For and against. On the negative side: 1) One of the major problems with researching these claims is the fact that the person submitting the article did so anonymously and Lt. Nixon never has his first name revealed. A suggestion has been made that the article was submitted by T. J. Maslen, an ex-lieutenant who was at the time he submitted the article, retired. 2) The article states that Nixon was in Singapore and the only possible contender we found in the records shows a Marmaduke Nixon serving in the 'East Indies' as an Ensign in April 1831 but he did not become a Lieutenant until March 1833 and was apparently in NSW in 1832. (39th Dorsetshire Regiment of Foot). While it is possible he was referred to as a Lieutenant in the article (submitted in 1834 after he had been promoted) and was an Ensign at the time of the exploration, he just doesn't seem to be in the right place at the right time. 3) The expedition is said to have been most secret but why? At the time the expedition was mounted there was no hint that a Dutch settlement existed and expeditions of this nature were generally heralded with much fanfare. 4) The position given for the site puts it at the centre of a vast waterless desert with no hills anywhere in sight. Even allowing for the inaccuracies of navigation at the time, there is no likely contender for a site such as that described within hundreds of kilometres. 5) In the first place the Dutch settlers would have faced almost insurmountable obstacles to get so far inland over waterless wastes. People naturally tend to hug coastlines where food and water are more readily obtainable. 6) If it had been established, a settlement of some 300 people that had existed for over 100 years would have left a lot of traces behind. Despite extensive searches over the years, nothing has ever been found to indicate that such a settlement existed. 7) The river referred to in the article is said to be half a mile wide, there are few if any inland rivers not in full flood at the height of the wet season that would be anything like this width. The Finke River at Palm Springs does not even come close and this on its own should rule out Palm Valley as a possible site. In May the Finke would not be in full flood, and if it was there would not be people in canoes drifting about on it. 8) We are expected to believe that within the mere space of 170 years, the Dutch people in the settlement had almost forgotten how to speak their mother tongue correctly. Highly unlikely. 9) The statement is made that the expedition had to hurry back to the ship before the change of the

92 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com monsoon but in mid May this would have been many months away. A longer stay would have indeed been possible. 10) The Dutch villagers are said to be short of supplies but there is never a hint of them wanting to go back to the ship with the explorers. 11) The leader of the Dutch village is quoted as being Van Baerle and research done by one researcher reveals that a Constantijn Van Baerle went missing with the ship Concordia but this was not until 1708, some 40+ years later than the time period we are looking for. The Concordia was a large ship with 130 plus people on board but the time frame just doesn't fit. 12) People who use Van Baerle as an example of a 'fact' in the original article often try to diminish the discrepancy the years as being due to a loss of knowledge over the years as the settlers did not need to know what year it was. Actually one of the most basic of all human society's needs is the need to know what time of year it is. This gives us the ability to pre-plan our crops, to know when the rains are due, to know when the hot weather starts, etc. The Aborigines, who had no means of reading and writing, were always able to tell the time of year, it was as essential to them as it would have been to any Dutch settlers. It is not a skill that you could lose and continue to survive without. 13) The latitude and longitude given in the article place the location of the Dutch village too far away from Raffles Bay for an exploration to get there and back in just two months, this has been one of the reasons touted for selecting Palm Valley as a likely site. A trip of 1660 kilometres at an average rate of 32 kilometres a day (bearing in mind the article states 8 days were spent at the village) was just not on in that sort of hostile terrain. On the positive side: 1) The date given for the start of the expedition is April 10th 1832. This is certainly an appropriate time for an expedition at the end of the wet season when rivers and billabongs would be (or should be) at reasonably high levels. 2) A reference to trees like palms is of some interest as small isolated groves of palm trees are found in the Kimberley and in the Northern Territory. This is probably why so many people have jumped to the assumption that Palm Valley was the site discovered. The conspiracy theory. One theory put forward is that because a Dutch settlement in the middle of Australia would have all sorts of unfortunate consequences regarding the ownership of the land, that Governor Stirling sent out a secret expedition to remove all evidence of the settlement. The theory goes that the expedition landed on the south coast (in the vicinity of Fowlers Bay - thus encroaching on another state's turf) and that they trekked north to the settlement and then set about wiping it off the face of the Earth. Ensign Robert Dale is touted as the likely leader of this expedition. Even a casual review of this particular theory makes it laughable. We have to assume that: 1) A small party of explorers could reach the Dutch settlement and then manage to wipe out 300 people. 2) Erase every trace of a settlement that had been in existence for well over 100 years. 3) Manage to do this in complete secrecy and never leave a detail about it anywhere in their various journals. The conspiracy theory can be completely dismissed as impractical. Sawn River was struggling to survive at the time and people were leaving in their droves. There were not the resources to mount such an expedition and even if there were it would have been totally impossible to maintain absolute secrecy.

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Another less drastic but equally improbable conspiracy theory is that Stirling put together a secret expedition headed by Ensign Robert Dale that landed on the south coast at Fowlers Bay, trekked inland looking for the inland sea, or wheat or something vague like that, found a bunch of Dutch foreigners living in the middle of nowhere, and then Stirling rushes off to England to tell the authorities about it. In this version, Dale goes back to England and bumps into his old mate Maslen who then writes the article in order to embarrass the British Government who he has 'issues' with. Oh and Nixon is really Dale because of some similarities in phrases used in the article in the Mercury and in Dale's own journals. These theories simply don't make any sense at all. A far more likely scenario is that Stirling or one of his close assistants (possibly even Dale) manufactured the article at a time when Stirling was back in London seeking support for the struggling colony. What better way to prod the authorities in London into action than to suddenly have a town full of foreign nationals appear in the middle of Australia? Notice that in the article there isn't much threat posed by these other settlers because of their 'ignorance and mismanagement' but if they can live in this inland paradise, then a true Englishman should be able to prosper there! Stirling and his cohorts were well known for writing articles and letters and having them published anonymously in the press. In his book, Swan River letters, I. Berryman reveals a number of these occurrences and it seems quite probable that Stirling was behind the article that appeared in the Leeds Mercury. Stirling was a Scot, the next reprint of the article turns up in Scotland, then in Cape Town (after Stirling passes through on his way home) and then finally at Swan River after he arrives. This is all too much of a co-incidence. Questions still to answer. 1) The yams (Dioscorea hastifolia) found growing in the south west of Western Australia were the only ones of that type found in the country. This kind of yam was a popular cargo on Dutch ships, is it possible that the yams were introduced to the state by shipwreck survivors? 2) Researchers describe Dutch sounding words as part of the Aboriginal dialects along the west coast and nowhere else in Australia. Does this mean that Dutch sailors lived long enough to teach the Aborigines some of their language? 3) If Dutch shipwreck survivors lived for some time on the west coast did they finally become part of the Aboriginal tribes and did they intermarry and have children? 4) Was there a large Dutch vessel lost near the West Australian coast around 1662? The most likely answer to the first three questions is 'YES' but it is something we will probably only ever be able to speculate about. Conclusion. There are a number of assumptions that can be readily made from all this: That Dutch seafarers did indeed survive for some considerable time on the west coast after being stranded and in all probability intermixed with the local Aboriginal tribes. That although these Dutch sailors became the first Europeans to live in Australia they can hardly be described as colonists. Their arrival here was accidental and their stay was enforced by circumstances. That the letter sent to the Leeds Mercury was instigated by Governor James Stirling or someone very close to him. The article does two things very successfully. First it plants the danger of foreign settlers in the minds of the authorities in London and secondly it suggests a fertile watered place in

94 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com the centre of Australia that would be suitable for British settlement. This was a common misconception at the time and the belief of an inland sea or at least a large river system was to persist for quite some time. The article appears once Stirling is rebuffed by the authorities in London in his efforts to secure support for the struggling colony and is published just 16 days prior to his return to W.A. Thomas John Maslen, the man credited with being the author of the article, had written a book (The Friend of Australia) in 1830 and he had some rather fanciful ideas about what lay in the interior. Maslen had even pencilled in the location of the Dutch colony on a map (several times in different places) in the book. Maslen was a bit of an eccentric in any case who had no children and never married. One more nail in the coffin of this story is the use of the name Port Raffles in the article instead of the proper name Raffles Bay. Port Raffles was the name known to none other than Governor James Stirling who helped get the place started in 1827! It does seem a little coincidental that 39th Regiment of Foot was at Port Raffles (or Raffles Bay) with Stirling an Ensign Marmaduke George Nixon served with the regiment at some stage. The final but most telling thing of all, is the fact that no evidence of the Dutch settlement, that is supposed to have existed for well over 100 and possibly over 150 years, has ever been found. Until irrefutable evidence is produced, the story simply must be regarded as a fanciful one. Speaking on a purely personal level, I would be delighted to be proved wrong. (Side Note: Marmaduke George Nixon - 1814 - 1864. Eventually became a Colonel. He commanded colonial volunteer forces in New Zealand and was killed during the Maori wars. Nixon Ave. in Auckland is named after him and a monument to his memory was erected at Otahuhu.) Basically, people who want to believe in the story of the lost Dutch village have simply tried to force the facts to fit their version of the story. If the location given in the article proves to be in the middle of nowhere with no hills anywhere in sight then just look for another likely location and say the location given was wrong, or deliberately misleading, if no likely candidate for Lt. Nixon can be located in the records then say that he was made up or was a pseudonym, if the years passed since the start of the village don't fit with the loss of an interesting looking ship with the right named person on board then come up with some reason the settlers got the number of years wrong. One of the greatest failings any researcher can have is to become so wedded to a good theory that they then stretch the facts to try and make the theory work. One article in particular does this to an extraordinary degree, but the bottom line is, the simplest explanation is usually the correct explanation and since this is the bottom line, now seems like a good time to end this story.

Merde! Charles Lauffer had lived in the area for a long time and was well known and liked. Locals were shocked when he was murdered by a group of French picnickers.

5 men (2 with police records) and three women (all prostitutes) had come up to the hills and had spent the day eating and drinking at various establishments.

In the afternoon they had approached Charles Lauffer wanting to buy a single bottle of wine. As he only had a gallon license he could not sell a single bottle and an argument developed and rapidly became violent. One of the Frenchmen pulled out a revolver and shot Lauffer twice killing him instantly.

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When the local Constable arrived to arrest the group they showed no remorse and even when waiting for the train to arrive to take them to the lock up at Guildford they were laughing and joking among themselves.

All 8 were charged and tried for murder and 6 were found guilty and sentenced to hang. On appeal only the man who pulled the trigger (Maillat) was convicted and he was hanged on April 21st 1903.

Railway troubles. The only railway tunnel constructed in the state (at that time - 1896) was at Swan View. It was found to be somewhat unstable and had to be lined with bricks.

When put into service it was quickly found to have serious ventilation problems and crews were often overcome by smoke. On some occasions drivers fell from the engine and one was severely injured. Protests from railway staff were ignored until the 1940s when the crew of one train all passed out.

The accident happened on November 4th 1942 and involved a double engined goods train pulling 431 tonnes. The driver of one engine managed to shut off power before he passed out but the other driver passed out before he could take action. As the train began to slip backwards the engine still under power switched into reverse and the train hurtled back down the track at considerable speed.

The runaway train passed Sawn View station doing an estimated 80 kilometres and hour and was directed off the main line into a dead-end that had been constructed in case of such an event.

As the rear wagons hit first there was a cushioning effect on the front of the train where the crews were located. This saved three men from serious injury but sadly one of the engine drivers had succumbed to smoke while still in the tunnel and had died.

Finally after a tragedy that should never have occurred the railway management acted and the tunnel was abandoned in favour of a cutting that was made in 1945.

More problems for the railway took place on the Jane Brook line in July 1896. A mixed goods train (with one passenger car) suffered a break in a coupling not long after a passenger train going down

96 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com to Midland had passed by.

The runaway carriages hurtled down the line after the passenger train and after a telegraph from the Station Master at Parkerville the passenger train was shunted onto a siding, avoiding a complete disaster.

Unfortunately for the two passengers and seven horses on the runaway, there was no way of stopping the headlong plunge and at an estimated speed on 120mph the train left the rails and smashed to pieces.

James Morgan (the newly appointed Forest Ranger) was killed but Faulkner (the other passenger) had a miraculous escape.

He was found wedged between two rocks with a metal spar driven 3 metres into the ground just inches from his head.

Fire and Water In old Broome, the invention of the diving helmet and suit were of great importance for the pearl diving industry. Few people know the unusual story about how the diving helmet was invented.

The man credited with the invention was John Deane. He was involved in fighting a fire at a friend’s farm when a number of valuable horses became trapped in a stable. The quantity of smoke kept people from rescuing the animals by Deane had an idea.

He used an old helmet from a suit of armour that was kept in the farm house. He then attached the hose and hand pump that was being used to pump water onto the fire and instructed the farmer to only pump air through the hose.

He was successful and managed to rescue the horses. This gave John the idea to develop the invention and he filed a patent for fire fighting purposes in 1828. After thinking more about the invention he decided that the same apparatus could be used to go underwater.

His first test was less than successful as the diving suit filled with air and he turned upside down. After this life-threatening event, he decided to add lead boots to the diving suit and solved the problem.

John and his brother Charles went into business and became famous underwater engineers.

John licensed the invention out to German engineer, Augusts Siebe and it was the Siebe diving suits that were used to great effect in Broome. The design was so effective that it changed little over the 90 years during which there were used.

Boulder Bombs In February 1942 (during World War II) a group of 30 men were playing dice at a Boulder boarding house located at 16 Multon St.

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Just after midnight (February 2nd) there was an explosion in the room. Constable Mick Leeder,who was on duty in the Boulder Police Station, heard the explosion and went into the street to investigate. He then heard two more explosions (that on later investigation came from the Launceston Hostel. Leeder was joined by Constable Waghorn and together they went to the site of the first explosion. The roof of the boarding house had been blown off and most of the building demolished. Dead and injured men were scattered through the ruins and it was a scene of complete devastation. It was determined that the explosion was caused by a bomb. 14 men died and 14 were injured by the blast. The explosions at the Launceston Hostel were also caused by bombs but in that case there were no fatalities and only 4 people injured. One of the men injured during the first explosion (Kristo Kosich) had staggered out and made his way back to the Launceston Hostel (where he lodged) getting there just in time to be injured by the second explosion. He saw the bomber as he tossed a charge into the hostel. Later that night a fourth minor explosion was heard. Doctors tended to the injured and the police began to investigate. At 9:30am a body was found blown to pieces at the Boulder cemetery. It was later identified as the remains of Pero Raecivich. Written evidence pointed to the fact that Raecivich had carried out the bombings due to issues he had with his homeland (Montenegro ) being invaded by Germany. This was a major crime but it is almost ignored by historians. It is likely that the event was hushed up as the war was still in progress and the authorities decided that there would be civil unrest if the facts came to light.

On The run In 1971 Aboriginal prisoner, Lionel Brockman, escaped from Wooroloo prison and evaded the authorities by heading out into the bush. One of Lionel's hide-outs was reputed to be Datjon Rock where he stayed with his wife and 11 of his 12 children. Local farmers took pity on him and turned a blind-eye to the occasional missing chicken as they knew Lionel was feeding his family. One has to wonder how successful Lionel was at evading the law long-term when he was on the run with his wife and so many children. There is actually a book about the incident; 'The Brockman affair 1971' by Tresna Shorter.

Sly Grog Shop During the construction of the railway to Beacon, the thirsty workers created a high demand for alcohol and a few 'sly-grog shops' started to operate in town as there was no pub. One hot day a couple of ragged looking down-and-outs arrived at Charlie's place looking for a 'special brew'.

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Charlie sent the pair on their way empty handed with the parting words; 'Next time try it on without polishing your boots.'

Nannup Tiger. Sightings of a strange creature dubbed the Nannup tiger have been reported for many years and range from Esperance to Geraldton. The sightings started in the 1960s and have persisted despite the lack of any conclusive evidence. Some people describe it as dog like, others as cat like. There is a possibility that large feral cats may be mistaken for something much bigger and another theory is that a carnivorous marsupial such as Thylacinus Cynocephalus has managed to survive in the more uninhabited regions of the south west. Without any conclusive proof of the existence of these creatures, this remains a creature firmly rooted in myth. One of my own nephews swears that he saw a very large panther like cat cross the Bibbulmun Track in front of him one evening. The experience certainly un-nerved him and he made quick time to the nearest camp site.

Stud Ram Pays a Visit I have been reading a fascinating book titled "That's not rubbish, that's our possessions" by Zelma Bates / Clayton. The book is full of personal insights and great little stories. One of my favourites involves a certain uncle Garden:

He was driving a mixed freight train and on board was a very valuable stud ram that had been purchased from South Australia.

It was a particularly hot day and the train had stopped for some reason so the fireman walked down to check on the ram and ensure it was ok in the heat.

The ram appeared to be distressed so the fireman decided to give it a drink of water. As he opened the gate to put a bucket of water inside the railway car the ram took one look at the open gate and

99 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com jumped straight out.

The ram bolted over the road and over a fence to join a large flock of sheep in a farmer's paddock.

Uncle Garden and the fireman took off in pursuit and after some time, cornered the sheep against the fence line of the paddock. Grabbing a ram they manhandled it back to the train and got it back on board.

The ram was left in a siding for the new owner to come and collect but when he did all hell broke loose. The farmer claimed that the mob in South Australia had tried to put one over on him but they claimed the correct ram had been placed on the train.

After a week of questioning everyone involved with the transport of the ram, all indications pointed to uncle Garden and the fireman.

The fireman eventually admitted to the ram's escape and the police and stock agents went to the farm concerned and retrieved the correct ram. The farmer claimed he had not noticed a strange ram in his flock but uncle Garden reckoned that any ewes that had lambs that could be tied back to the dates the prize ram was on the property, would be given special attention. He said he often wondered how many prize lambs eventuated from the kind-heartedness of a railway fireman when a ram from the best stud in South Australia paid a visit to that flock.

They Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To. Mary Elizabeth Garratt found herself about to give birth but almost everyone was away from the homestead. Her only companion was a Nyungar woman who was herself heavily pregnant. Mary’s baby was born with the help of her companion and then she in turn, helped her companion to give birth. Within just three days, both women were in the saddle assisting with the mustering.

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Buried Treasure Sam Chalwell died on November 1st 1965 but he left behind an enduring mystery that tells of shipwrecks and buried gold. Sometime after moving from Victoria to East Rockingham, Sam met a man named Harry McCoy who told Sam that there was enough gold buried in East Rockingham to drive a man mad and that it would be found under a circle of stones. The treasure was said to have originated from the plunder of Lima but the source of the tales is unclear as are the origins of Harry McCoy. While hunting for rabbits in the Naval Base area, Sam discovered a cave. The entrance was barely large enough for a man to crawl through but he managed to squeeze inside. A short tunnel led to a open space large enough to stand in with a flat sandy floor. It was here that Sam discovered metal platters and various objects stacked against the cave walls. he had no light so could only use a sense of touch to identify what he found. Because of the difficulty of the crawl he could not bring any items out and for whatever reason he seems to have forgotten the location of the cave and never managed to find it again. While digging a well on his property Sam dug up what he thought was gold. It turned out to be mica but Sam was convinced that somewhere close by was a hoard of buried gold. Sam met a 'gold diviner' who found a spot where he claimed gold would be found and Sam started digging. He continued digging at that site for 2 months and despite making a large hole, no gold was discovered. While doing some stone quarrying on his property, Sam discovered what appeared to be a pattern of stones laid out on the ground. As Sam uncovered more of the stones it became clear that they were laid out in the shape of a man. He became convinced that they were a sign of some sort that would lead him to hidden treasure. Sam removed the stones and began excavating beneath them. Another layer of stones was found and he kept digging until he reached the water table at which point he had to abandon the hole. One of the stones uncovered had a six pointed star engraved on it but the meaning of this has never been determined. The story of the stone figure appears to be more than just folk-lore as it appeared in the Western Mail on August 25th 1949. Sam died without uncovering his buried treasure and his property at lot 777 Day Road, East Rockingham has managed to retain its secrets.

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The following is from a book called 'Giant Lettered Sheds' by Carl Edwards. The book is a great reminder of just how life has changed since the 1950s. My favourite chapter is worth repeating here and hopefully will encourage you to go out and get a copy of the book.

Giant Lettered Sheds "It was a 'kick around' day in the August school holidays. It was too cold to go swimming and the

101 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com likelihood of rain put a dampener on the bikes, so we headed off on foot in no particular direction. Being a weekday, there was plenty to see and do on the wharf; cranes would be carrying out their never-ending task of loading and unloading cargo, and there might even be a cattle ship in. Either way, we could always catch a lift over to North Wharf on one of Tilley's ferries. It was a rainy day, so we all wore Wellington boots, and headed off down the hill kicking an old battered baked bean tin backwards and forwards. At the bottom of the hill we could see trucks lined up at the old weighbridge, so we poked our heads in to see what was happening. “G'day, Mr. Jenkins!” we chimed. “Hello boys, What are you lot up to? Wagging school?” “No. We're on holiday.” “That'll mean someone's in for a prank, won't it boys?” “Not us, Mr. Jenkins. We don't cause any trouble. Can we weigh in a truck?” “Yeah. Why not? Do you remember how to do it?” A truck rolled on to the weighbridge and Phil stood in front of the balance mechanism. He slid the counter weights along the bar. “You've gone too far young lad. Back it off one. That's better. Now bring the other one along. Too far again – take it back one. That's it. That's got the hundred weights. Now do the quarters. That's better – now the pounds.” Phil moved the final counterweight into position. “That's it. Now let's get the weight down. Let's see now.” Taking out his pen, he noted, “That's five ton, 17 hundredweight, three quarters and seven pounds. You lot will have me out of a job.” He looked over to Johnnie and me. “Here, come on you two. You better have a go.” I lined up behind Johnnie and the process was repeated with the next two trucks. “I reckon you three are just about experts. Where are you off to today?” Phil answered. “Nowhere. We're just muckin' around.” “You want to go at 'C' shed.” We all thought it was a good idea, so we piled out of the weighbridge and headed for the wharf. Phil suggested a detour as we headed over the railway line. “Let's go and see Fred the blacksmith. Then we can cut through to 'A' shed. A ferry might be in.” We changed direction and headed west through the Harbour Trust workshops. There were all sorts of jobs carried out in the workshop sheds. There were metal workers, carpenters, painters and electricians, to name but a few. Our favourites were the blacksmiths. Fred and Jack were always pleased to see us, so we kicked our baked bean tin in their direction. We passed by the lunchroom, where we could always pinch an old pack of playing cards hidden by the workers, then turned right and cut through to the blacksmiths' shop. “Hi boys. I reckoned you'd turn up today,” said Fred. “G'day Fred. G'day Jack.” “G'day boys,” replied Jack, the quiet one. Fred did most of the talking. “What are you making today?” asked Johnnie. “We're making a load of long bolts to hold the wharf together. Have a look at these.” We walked

102 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com over to where a lathe was cutting long threads into oversized rods. The rods were close to an inch thick and over eight feet in length. White cooling fluid poured over the site where the die was cutting. It was a slow job but fascinating to watch. Behind us, Jack was shaping the hexagonal heads of a bolt with a giant machine hammer. He placed the glowing bolt head on the anvil then activated the hammer to come down ever so gently and shape the head. When the metal cooled, he took the bolt back to the forge and re-heated it, turning on the electric bellows until it glowed white-hot. Then it was back to the hammer. It was great to watch, and we couldn't get enough of it. Sparks flew from the metal, as he hand-worked the bolt head with a finishing hammer. “Have you found any more of those peanuts?” asked Jack. “We're going on to the wharf this morning,” I replied. “We thought we would call in first to see what you were doing.” “Drop in any time. If you get some more peanuts, call back and we'll roast them for you.” “Righto,” we replied. We said our farewells and set out for the Ferry Landing. Tilley's ferries went backwards and forwards all day when the wharf was working. If you were a waterside worker you didn't have to pay, but if you were a seaman or visitor, there was a fare of tuppence a trip. You had to have the cost of the fare for the return trip too or you could get stuck with a long walk back over the Fremantle Railway Bridge. Usually, we managed a free ride. We kicked our tin down to the wharf, grabbed a drink from the water fountain and made our way on to the ferry. As usual, we went down to the back of the wide, open-hulled boat and perched ourselves on the stern out of the way. After a short wait, one of the ferry-men let go the ropes and we headed out across the harbour towards the first of the landings at the west end of North Wharf. Looking down the Victoria Quay side of the harbour, we could see the Australian warship, HMAS Anzac berthed at “C” Shed. We would call in later and have a look. Now came the tricky bit. One of the ferrymen made the rounds of the passengers with an oversized money tin. He was collecting the fares. We kept facing aft and, once again, the fare collector never bothered us. That meant we had something to spend on lollies later on. Off we hopped at a North Wharf ferry landing then we headed over to the sheds. There were hundreds of bags of potatoes stacked in the first shed, so we prised a few out between the rope ties. We cut off the dirty skin with the knife Johnnie always carried and made a meal of raw potatoes as we continued on our way. North Wharf was never as interesting as Victoria Quay, as most of the foodstuffs ended up on the south side. It was the ferry trip that made the north side worthwhile. We worked our way east, checking the ferry landings as we went. There were usually a few people fishing from the landings and we were always keen to see what they were catching. We checked out a few more sheds then caught the ferry over to 'F' Shed down towards the eastern end of Victoria Quay. Things began to look up. As we walked through the shed we noticed that the 'cage', a wired-off enclosure inside the shed, was being stacked with cartons of damaged tins. Something had obviously gone wrong with the loading, and the damaged items would be subject to an insurance claim. Of course, not all of the damaged tins would end up in the cage, and there were more than a few 'purposeful accidents' on the wharf. “Have you got any spares, mate?” Johnnie asked one of the lumpers. “Aren't you the Gillan kids?” came the reply. It was happening again. Being a 'Gillan kid' was like

103 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com shouting 'open sesame!' in front of giant stone doors. “Yeah. Our dad's Don Gillan. He drives the cranes.” Phil and Johnnie had answered as one. One of the lumpers turned to the other and said: “Hey, Pete, I reckon these bent tins aren't much good to anyone, are they?” “Nah, they're buggered. Let 'em have a few,” came the reply. The lumper handed over some battered tins and added, “They're peaches, but you never got them from us, right?” “We'll hide 'em and say we pinched 'em if anyone asks,” said Phil. “That's the shot. No one knows a thing.” We thanked the two lumpers and took off with the cans inside our shirts. A little further on we climbed down under the wharf and set to basing Johnnie's knife through the lids. We prised the cans open and lunch was served. A few dings in the side of a tin doesn't affect the taste of the contents one little bit. We came up on 'C' Shed just as the wharf's siren sounded the lunch break. In front of us was a trim little warship, the destroyer HMAS Anzac. It looked very smart and would look even smarter when it was open for inspection the following weekend. There were a few sailors on deck taking a break, so we tried it on. “Have you got any old hats you don't want?” we chimed. “What do you want hats for?” one of the sailors asked, knowing full well that we wanted to wear them. “To wear,” we all said, predictably. It didn't pay to be a smart-arse with the sailors as they usually kept their old hats for pretty girls. “I'll go and have a look,” said one. He was gone for ages and we thought he was wasting our time, but we carried on chatting to the other two just in case. We asked all the right questions, as you never knew when it might pay off. The missing sailor came back on deck and was carrying not one, but three old hats. He had a big smile. “I asked around amongst the boys and you got lucky. Here you are,” he said, and threw the hats down to us. They all had gold hatbands proudly proclaiming 'HMAS ANZAC'. We had got lucky and, after buckets of 'thank-yous', we headed further west through 'B' Shed. We were almost back where we had started but were now proudly attired in new headgear. 'B' Shed was fairly quiet. It was between ships and there were lumpers sitting around smoking and talking. It was this shed that had paid off for us a week earlier when we discovered great stacks of peanuts in their shells. The stacks were still there. We worked our way around the piled bags of nuts to where we had helped ourselves. The opened bag was just as we had left it, so we ratted it again, pulling handfuls of nuts into our jumpers. As we snuck out the quietest end of the shed it looked as if we had all put on weight. Laughing, we headed down past 'A' Shed eating the raw peanuts. We cut through to the blacksmiths' shop just as it started to rain. “We're back!” we announced. “I can see that,” said Fred. “And I can see you've got some new hats. How did you go with the peanuts?” “We got 'em,” said Johnnie, as he emptied out his jumper. Phil and I added our nuts to the pile as Jack made his way over with a broad shovel. “You'll be needing this,” he said. Rain fell heavily on the tin roof as we warmed ourselves near the forge. We had only just made it in

104 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com time. Jack loaded up the shovel with peanuts and placed it on to the coals. The smell of roasting peanuts filled the blacksmiths' shop, and we all sat around talking and filling ourselves with roasted nuts. It was a nothing sort of day."

On The run (The whole story) You will find a snippet about this story earlier in this book but I have finally got the book I was waiting for so here is the full story: In 1971 Aboriginal prisoner, Lionel Arthur Brockman, escaped from Wooroloo prison and evaded the authorities by heading out into the bush. Initially Lionel made his way into the bush around Northam and then went north to Paynes Find. After some time Lionel and his family made their way 150 kilometres to the small farming area of Wialki. One of Lionel's hide-outs was reputed to be Datjon Rock where he stayed with his wife and 11 of his 12 children. Lionel was only in prison for petty theft and had escaped only 20 days before his 3 month sentence was due to expire. Lionel had only taken to petty theft when he ran out of money and wanted to buy Christmas presents and food for his children. Like his father before him, Lionel had refused to go on welfare for most of his life. A similar situation caused him to escape from prison when his wife Jean visited and told him the family had no money and there was no food for their children. After six weeks on the run, Lionel's status with the authorities suddenly changed to 'dangerous' because it became known that he was carrying a .22 rifle. Being a bushman, the rifle was simply a means of providing food for his family but according to the authorities he was now 'armed and dangerous'. The press - as is their usual habit - made a great deal of the 'dangerous' nature of this 'half-caste' who had the 'bush cunning' of an Aborigine and the 'planning skill' of a white man. Total racist hogwash but they never let that get in the way of whipping up public fear and anxiety. Thankfully the press frenzy did not have a major effect on many of the bush people and some realised that a man travelling with his family was hardly likely to be dangerous. There was some concern about what would happen if Lionel was confronted when helping himself to chicken eggs and such on farms so not everyone was overjoyed at the prospect of him being in their area. There were some in the community who actually supported Lionel's attempts to remain free but this was largely concealed in the close-knit community. Some local farmers took pity on him and turned a blind-eye to the occasional missing chicken as they knew Lionel was feeding his family. The police kept watch over the only waterhole in the area but Brockman came and went undetected. On September 24th 1971 Lionel's wife Jean gave herself and her children up to the police. The papers reported that they had been surprised and captured but that was a complete lie. On October 7th Lionel and his eldest son were apprehended near Morawa in a bush camp. Brockman was charged with 52 offences. 29 charges were dropped and there was a public outcry

105 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com about this supposed leniency but the truth eventually came out. It finally emerged that Lionel's original offence had come about when a relative stole Lionel's share of payment for work he had done and when Lionel applied for assistance from the government, he was refused. This led to the initial petty-theft. When Lionel was in prison his family were staying with relatives but when a government officer visited the home they were in, they were told to get out due to over-crowding. That is what led to Lionel's escape. One has to wonder how Lionel managed to provide for his large family during his time on the run but provide for them he did. The police had engaged in a major manhunt for a petty thief that wound up costing $31,146 - quite an amount in those days only to find that many charges were eventually dismissed. They had obviously conducted such an intensive search due to Lionel's success in evading the law. He was on the run with a large family of children for five and a half months and had made the authorities look rather foolish. Lionel was sentenced to three and a half years for 10 charges and 9 months for the remaining 13. This was despite the fact that the government, through its negligence, had brought about the whole situation. This story is told in detail in the book 'The Brockman affair 1971' by Tresna Shorter.

Beaten To The Punch Bessie Stewart worked at the Great Western Hotel in Coolgardie. Bessie was known as ‘The Belle of Coolgardie’ and young men tried to win her affections with gifts and small gold nuggets. Bessie was the cause of many fights between these ardent suitors and the most ferocious of all was between Jimmy Reid and ‘Bull’ Bennett. Both men regarded themselves as accomplished boxers and both wanted to marry Bessie. For reasons of her own, Bessie did not make a choice one way or the other and the two men decided to fight it out. They fought with bare knuckles behind the Club Hotel as a large crowd looked on and gave them encouragement. After two hours the men were covered in blood and exhausted so their ‘seconds’ stepped in and stopped the fight with no clear winner. The fighters decided to spend three weeks recovering and then fight again to try and resolve the issue. Jimmy Reid went off to the coast to recover and do some serious training. He returned in time for the next fight only to find that in the interim, Bennett had used his time more wisely and was already married to Bessie. (From the book Daughters of Midas, Norma King, Hesperian Press.)

That Sinking Feeling “One day we came to a grassy flat. I thought that we might get water there at a shallow depth by sinking, so we made camp. I got pick and shovel, while my mate unpacked and made the fire, and

106 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com started sinking with a will. My mate called out that tea was ready, but I worked on a bit longer. I could hardly swallow my tea quickly enough, I was so impatient to get back to my sinking. At five to six feet it began to get damp. Night came on but still I kept going, until at seven feet water began to come in. So I kept on sinking. The water was there all right, but I had to make room for storage. I filled every dish and billy and other container and baled it out. Yes, we got a drink for the camels. It must have been 12 o’clock that night when I lay down. At dawn I was out and had a look at my handiwork. It was beautiful, clear, fresh water. Then I went to get the camels. I came closer. Ye Gods! Before me was enough water to float a ship, and the camels were distended like blown-up frogs. Such is life – either a feast or a famine.“ from: The Outback Trail, A.J. Luck. Hesperian Press.

Illiterate Pigs Beware Joe O’Dea built the first structure of any significance in the town of Perenjori. With his wife he ran a makeshift restaurant and catered to the culinary needs of the railway workers. Joe kept a number of animals but they were rarely restrained and often wandered into the crop fields of farmers. One put up a notice saying, ‘ Poison laid here’, but Joe just said that his pigs couldn’t read. The farmer's response was to shoot one of the pigs.... From the book 'Sound of the Cockies' by Bill and Jenny Bunbury.

School Days Also from the book 'Sound of the Cockies' by Bill and Jenny Bunbury comes the following description of how some farm kids used to get to and from school. Here are some excerpts that explain how things were done: “We had to set the stove’s fire before we went to bed, except on Saturday night, then put a match to the kindling and paper before going to do our chores. It didn’t take long for the two big black kettles to boil to make the wheat-meal porridge. The wheat was put through a hand grinder. It was made by the one who didn’t help wash up. We’d put a few cups of wheat through the grinder and put it in a pot to soak for breakfast.” “We had it pretty tough. We had to go and catch our horse every morning and harness it to the cart.” “We had a five-mile trek. Some pupils had to go seven miles. That was about the limit with a horse and cart. You not only had to get there but get there on time and it’s not easy on a cold frosty morning.” “When we got to school we’d take the horse out of the sulky and tie it to a tree. Each one had its own tree and we’d have to take feed in for the horse. You fed it with hay or chaff. At lunchtime there was a race down to the government well to give the horses a drink. We’d have to put them back in the sulky to do that and take them out again when we got back to school. You’d have your lunch and then go back to class. Then after school you’d put your horse back in the sulky again and there’d be a race to see who could get around the town first and over the railway line.” “And when we came home from school we had to take the horse out of the sulky, let it go and feed

107 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com it and then come home. If my mother had a heavy day or a washing day, I’d have to wash the dishes.”

Police Prank At Caron, the railway siding included a refreshment room, not surprisingly called The Refresh. The place provided snacks, tea and coffee and also boasted a bar where thirsty travellers could slake their thirst with an ale or two. The bar was supposed to be open only while the train was stopped at the siding but as the nearest hotel was 16 kilometres away in Perenjori, the bar often stayed open long after the train had departed. One day two young policemen were doing the rounds of the farms and as they returned to Caron in the evening, they could see the lights at The Refresh were still on and the bar was open when it should have been closed hours before. One officer went to the front door, the other to the back and they hammered on the doors, calling, 'Open up, police here!' Suddenly all the lights inside went out and they could hear a lot of scrambling around. They walked in and turned their torches on only to find the proprietor stretched out on the counter with his shirt pulled up and the visiting doctor standing over him with a stethoscope. The two policemen burst out laughing and said, 'Get down you silly fool and get us a drink!'. Also from 'Sound of the Cockies' B and J Bunbury.

Fast First Aid In the early days at the port of Bunbury, the long jetty was busy and quite congested. One major concern was quickly transporting injured workers through the congestion to the local hospital. It wasn't possible to drive an ambulance along the jetty so a plan was worked out and all that was needed was the opportunity to test it. Not long after the plan had been agreed, a Dutch ship with a Chinese crew called in to the port. It turned out that one of the Chinese crew was ill and needed to be taken to the local hospital as quickly as possible. The plan swung in to motion. A small steam locomotive with a specially designed flat floor for a stretcher was sent along the jetty to collect the sick crewman. The emergency crew collected the Chinese seaman from the top of the gangway and took him to the railway station where he was loaded on to an ambulance and rushed to the hospital where he was put in a bed to await the arrival of a doctor. The whole operation had taken just 36 minutes and everyone involved was very pleased with the result. As people were congratulating each other on the success of the new emergency plan, a phone call came through from the ship asking why nobody had arrived to collect the sick seaman. It turned out the the man collected had been on watch duty at the top of the gangplank and due to

108 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com his lack of English language skills, he had been whisked away to hospital instead of the sick man. We can only wonder what the man thought about the whole situation. From the book 'Full Steam Ahead' by John Willinge

Happy Workers One day a group of waterside workers seemed unusually happy as they went about their work. The ship's Chief Officer went to their supervisor and reported that the ship was carrying large casks of wine and he didn't know how, but he was sure the workers were getting in to the casks and helping themselves. The supervisor went down to where the casks were stored to find out what was going on and found that his men had bored small holes and inserted a tap so that during smoko and lunch break they could add a little something to their break. Needless to say they were read the 'riot act' and things went back to their usual routine. From the book 'Full Steam Ahead' by John Willinge

Getting the Right Result The first bulk loader installed at Bunbury wharf was a large and complex piece of machinery. It was operated by just two men and there was a need to train others to ensure that the machine could always be in operation when needed. A list of 12 of the most competent workers was drawn up by management and submitted to the WWF (Waterside Workers Federation) so that the men could be trained to use the new equipment. The union held a meeting but came back and said that just selecting men in this way went against union principles and any men who volunteered to be trained should be considered. So many men volunteered that the training places were expanded to 16 and the management selected 16 of the men they thought would be best for the job. The union rep explained that this was not the way things were done and all the names of the volunteers had to be put in a hat and the men who would get the training would be selected at random. A meeting was held and the union rep came back to management with the list of men whose names had been drawn out. Management commented that it was a miracle that the men selected randomly were exactly the same ones that were on the list they had been drawn up. The union reply simply responded; 'Miracle my foot, I never put the other names in the hat!'. From the book 'Full Steam Ahead' by John Willinge

Local lothario gets his comeuppance.

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In 1905 a Kookynie tradesman with a reputation for chasing the ladies invited a local young lady to accompany him to see the Fisk Jubilee Singers. She was unable to attend but arranged for a friend to go in her place. Her friend was in fact a young man who was adorned in female clothing, had a wig put on and was made up to disguise his real gender. The practical joke doesn't seem to have gone down too well with the local police as after a disturbance during the performance they took the 'young lady' away charged 'her' with disorderly conduct and fined 'her' a shilling. The joke was a much greater success with the rest of the population and was a taking point for many days afterward.

Child Abuse The following paragraph is from the book, 'The Peel Estate 1919-1936' by Tresna Shorter. It deals with the extremely harsh lives that some children experienced. 'No thought was given to the moral and physical welfare of two girls, aged ten and thirteen years, who daily walked, bare footed through the bush, uphill along a sandy track to deliver two gallons of milk to men working in the quarry. When the girls father discovered that sexual activities were taking place with the men, he horse whipped the girls and locked them in their room for a week (to recover from their injuries) after which he placed them in St. Joseph's orphanage. The men went unpunnished.' At some point the girls escaped from the orphanage and were forced into prostitution in order to survive. The older one went on to become a well-known madam in Perth and Kalgoorlie brothels.

Kangaroo Hunting Many years ago a stockman was looking after an out camp when he fell ill. All he had for company was a young aborigine and his droving dogs. He desperately needed some meat for his dogs but was too sick to go out and shoot a roo but his offsider wasn't familiar with the use of the old muzzle loading rifle he had. In the end he had no choice but to instruct his young helper in the use of the weapon and leave him to go out and bag a kangaroo. The instructions were fairly simple, put in a little powder, a little bit of rang and a little bit of shot then tap it down with the rod. He repeated the instructions a couple of times to be sure and handed over the weapon. Several hours later the young aborigine came back looking rather shocked and carrying a rifle that was in pieces. “What happened?” said the stockman. His offsider replied; “I put in a little bit gunpowder, little bit rag, little bit shot, tap down, little bit powder, little bit rag, little bit shot, tap down. Fill 'em up the gun then shoot at kangaroo...” From North of the 26th Vol 2. Access Press. 1994.

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Shinplaster In the early days up north it was quite common for stations, stores and the like to run out of proper cash. In order to keep the economy from grinding to a halt, they issued promissory notes. These were often printed on ordinary paper that had no resistance to dampness and the ink used was frequently of dubious quality. Bushmen carried these notes in their boots, in their leggings or tied behind the thongs of their bowyangs. High temperatures in the north west led to extensive sweating and on many occasions the promissory notes became a sodden mass of paper not dissimilar to vinegar poultices that were used to treat tropical ulcers. The notes were quickly christened 'shinplasters' and many a bushy was never able to redeem the notes he held. The last official shinplaster was issues in Halls Creek in 1944. From North of the 26th Vol 2. Access Press. 1994.

Murder at the Inn

In February 1874 a murder was reported by the Perth Gazette at the Narrogin Inn on the Albany Road. The article reads: "The unfortunate victim of the shocking crime was Mr. William Foster, the proprietor of the Narrogin Inn, on the Albany road, who was shot dead in a most cowardly manner on Friday evening last. The supposed murderer, a conditional-pardon holder named Gill, has been arrested, and the wretched man is now in the safe custody of the police. The particulars of the sad tragedy disclose the fact that what-ever the assassin's motive may have been, and whatever his real or fancied

111 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com grievance, the murder was determined and premeditated. Gill was employed by Mr. Forster as a general servant, and among his other duties were those of a cook. On the day of the murder he made some complaint to his master of the quality of some meat supplied to him for his dinner. Mr. Forster told him it was off the same piece of beef as he and his family had just partaken of. Some words ensued between them and Gill went away muttering something to him-self. This was at mid-day. Later in the day he apologised to Mr. Foster for his insolence, and wished to let bygones be bygones. Matters were apparently thus put on an amicable footing, and during the rest of the day there was nothing whatever in the man's demeanour to indicate that he meditated mischief. After tea, Mr. Foster on going into the kitchen observed that Gill was absent and that he had not finished his usual task of washing up the dishes. He shouted his name, but there was no response. Mr. Foster then armed himself with a lanthorn and proceeded in the direction of the stables to search for him, and whilst approaching an out-building where Gill slept he was shot in the right side. He staggered a few paces, fell on his knees, and exclaimed; "The wretch has shot me ; send for a doctor." The only inmates on the premises at the time were the murdered man's youngest daughter, a young lady about l8 years of age, and his daughter-in-law and her children. Miss Matilda Foster hearing the report and seeing the flash of the gun instantly comprehended the state of affairs, and hurried to obey her father's injunctions to send for a medical man. This involved a journey of eighteen or twenty miles, there being no doctor nearer at hand than Perth. Miss Foster's first intention was to rush to the stable, saddle a horse, and ride in search of some neighbourly assistance, but the horrible thought struck her that the miscreant who had shot her father might still be on the premises, and probably lurking in the stables so she abandoned the idea of obtaining a horse, and started off with all speed on foot. The night was a dark one, and her road lay through the bush, where she became entangled in a dense thicket or scrub. Finding that her outer garments inconvenienced her progress through the bush she divested herself of a portion of them, and nothing daunted, wended her way to the house of the nearest neighbour, a Mr. Cronin, who is a feeble aged man. When informed of the occurrence, however, he proceeded with all haste to Narrogin, and Miss Foster went to another neighbour, named Martin. Here, no one was found but Mrs. Martin, with her young family, and Miss Foster then set out to Fancott's - between three and four miles from Narrogin. A little boy, however,-son of Mr. Martin-was the only person that could be found available to proceed to Perth, and he was sent off as soon as possible on horseback. He, after proceeding a short distance, was met by his father, who brought on the intelligence, arriving in town about two in the morning. As speedily as possible the police and a medical man were communicated with, and Dr. Hora at once proceeded to Narrogin. On arriving there, however, the doctor found that Mr. Foster had been dead for some time, and that, judging from the nature of the wound inflicted by the gun-shot, no medical skill could have availed in saving his life, the contents of the gun having entered the body on the right side, through and below the ribs, breaking four of the ribs, and causing the liver to protrude. Mr. Foster remained in the position in which he fell for about two hours, occasionally suffering moments of extreme pain, but conversing quite rationally with his daughter and daughter-in-law, who, with some young children, were the sole occupants of the house, in momentarily dread, as they were, of being themselves made the victims of the assassin's rage. Relief, though late, came at last, and Mr. Foster was removed into his dwelling- house ; where he was observed to gradually sink, completely exhausted by the loss of blood. When the police arrived on the premises a search was made, and Gill was found missing, and tracked for some distance along the Albany road. The gun with which the dastardly and fatal shot was fired was discovered a few yards from the house, with the outer rim of the nipple blown off, testifying to the heavy charge with which the musket had been loaded. It had been taken from Mr. Edward Foster's bedroom, which the murderer had broken into for the purpose of arming himself with it ; powder and shot were also obtained in the same room. An examination of Gill's own bedroom disclosed the

112 This book is brought to you by www.wanowandthen.com fact that the atrocious deed was premeditated, he having carefully packed up in a bundle a quantity of provisions available for the bush after escaping from the scene of murder. For some reason or other, however, he went away without these rations, but took care to arm himself with a formidable carving knife which was found concealed on his body after his arrest. The particulars of his arrest will be found in the appended report of a preliminary investigation held before the Police Magistrate at Perth on Monday last. Mr. Foster, who was one of the earliest colonists, had, by his amiability and courtesy, won the esteem of a large number of friends, and the shocking occurrence has caused the deepest pain, and excited the tenderest sympathy for his widow and children. The funeral which took place on Sunday was one of the most numerously and respectably attended we have witnessed in Perth. The mournful procession left the residence of the deceased's brother-in- law, Mr. E. Stirling, in St. G eorge's Terrace, about four o'clock in the afternoon. Mr. Foster's remains were interred in the Church of England cemetery, Dean Gegg being the officiating clergyman."

Slippery Slope an interesting story about the railways in Wiluna. While stationed there 96-98 I remember one day chatting to old timer Fred Quaddrio. He told me that the last train pulled out of Wiluna in 1957? The locals didn’t want the train to be taken away and the night before the last train was due to leave, some went out and greased the tracks. At that time there was a slight hill out of Wiluna and the greasing of the tracks made it very difficult for the train to climb it. The locals stood by watching, hoping the train wouldn’t get over the hill but we’re all disappointed when after a bit of effort it did and left Wiluna for good.

Longest Boat Chase When the West African registered fishing boat South Tomi was spotted fishing illegally in Australian waters, the Australian authorities gave chase. After 14 days and 6100 kilometres, the South Tomi was finally caught just 600 kilometres off the coast of Cape Town South Africa. The vessel had a large catch of Patagonian Toothfish which the Government seized and sold at auction for around $1.4 million dollars. The captain and crew were sent back to their own countries at the owner's expense and a fine of $136,000 was issued after the captain pleaded guilty to two counts of illegal fishing. The owners of the vessel did not challenge the seizure of the vessel or its catch and eventually in 2003 the vessel was sold with the idea of turning it into a dive wreck off the coast of Geraldton. After the internal fittings were removed and the ship made safe for divers to enter it was towed about 6 kilometres off the coast and sunk. This was the second illegal fishing boat to be used in this way. The Patagonian Toothfish, Dissostichus eleginoides, grows to lengths of two and a half metres and can weigh in at 200 kilograms. It is strongly flavoured and although not caught for sale in Australia much of the catch ends up in Japan.

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The Crow and the Gold Jim Withnell returned to camp after mustering sheep all day, only to find that a crow had managed to get into his tucker bag and the contents were now strewn across the ground. The angry young man reached for a stone to throw at the crow but as he picked it up he noticed an unusual glint. He knew about the Kimberley gold rush further north so he had a closer look at the stone. Sure enough there were flecks of gold. He searched around and gathered enough stones that looked promising to fill a handkerchief and he quickly rode off home, presumably leaving the crow with its ill-gotten gains. This led to the Pilbara gold-rush and although it was short-lived, there were more nuggets over 50 ounces collected on this field than on any other in Western Australia.

Mother of the North Early life in the north west was very tough and women often had to run the homestead on their own when the men were away tending to stock. Emma Withnell told the following story in her diary: 'After I had put my dear little ones to bed, I tried to read, but I could not settle down to my book. The dogs kept up a continual barking, and I thought that wild bush natives were camped nearby. Perhaps, I thought, they had seen my husband riding away that morning, and were planning to attack the homestead. Pulling aside the curtains to the kitchen window, I peered out. To my horror there was a black figure about a chain away from the house. I kept a rifle in the corner of the room, and I rushed over, seized and loaded it. Returning I opened the window, slipped the barrel of the rifle through and called out: "Go away or I'll fire". In the dim light the figure took on a menacing attitude, and appeared to move its head in a sinister way. "Go away, go away!" I screamed again. Then I pressed the trigger. I knew I had hit the object, but it still remained upright. Seizing a hurricane lantern, I ran out to investigate. To my relief the "wild bush native" about to attack us was a dress and hat I had hung to dry on the clothes line.' In fact, far from having any problems with the local Aborigines, Emma Withnell befriended them and tended many when they fell ill. She became known as 'Medicine woman' and for 40 years she was to remain in the north west. Finally at age 86 she died near Perth and is buried in the Guildford Cemetery.

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A tribute to Mukinbudin... You may talk of New York city, you may sing of gay Paree You may say that dear old London is the best But the name which sets me thinking when the sun is slowly sinking Is good old Mukinbudin in the West.

It hasn't got the beaches of a Manly or Bondi Nor the sound of breaking surf on tropic shore But there's something very homely that just gets you when you're lonely In the name of Mukinbudin . . . nothing more.

Grace Conroy.

A Rare Drop There are reports about a local alcoholic drink called 'Muka Muck' said to be made from a rare Chinese type of grape called 'Chew-en-spew' grown out back of the local pub. We haven't been able to verify the existence of this 'rare drop' but are not sure we would remember even if we had managed to sample some.

The Last Dance (Agnew) In early 2013 fifteen underground miners had their employment terminated because they engaged on a dance known as 'the Harlem shake' on the work site. Some of the miners had been employed at the mine for up to 8 years but loyalty to the company meant nothing and instead of being given a warning not to do it again, all the employees were fired.

Accusational Kangaroo Normally the Australian coat of arms has an emu and a kangaroo facing each other. If you visit the old GPO building in Forrest Place you will see an unusual coat of arms with the kangaroo looking back over its shoulder. We have seen two possible explanations for this. The first is that this is a Masonic pose and the second more interesting theory is that the kangaroo is looking back at parliament house staring at the people who never paid the sculptor for his work. Sadly there is no unpaid sculptor conspiracy, the pose was once more common and was used on other coats of arms including on the original Parliament House in Canberra. As for it being a Masonic pose, there seems to be no evidence for that either but considering the secrecy sometimes associated with the Freemasons, it can't be entirely ruled out either.

Memorable Sunday Service Mr. Chamberlain was the first teacher at the new Rockingham school (1871) and is remembered as a colourful character.

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He apparently spent some time in India and would often speak of the 'Black Hole of Calcutta'. As a form of discipline for his students he had a 'black hole' in the classroom. A cupboard that naughty pupils found themselves in when they misbehaved. Mr. Chamberlain used to help Tom Smirk with Sunday services in church and on one occasion he was reading the lesson of Moses and the burning bush. When he reached that part where God says to Moses. 'Take off thy shoes, for this is holy ground.' he began taking off his shoes much to the discomfort of the parishioners in church who promptly bolted out of the door. (From Rockingham Looks Back by Nora Taggart.)

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