No 18 Clare

In the council chamber at Clare, among portraits of former magnates of the town, you may see a photograph of "Paddy" Gleeson. His name was not Paddy at all. It was Edward Burton [Gleeson]. But everybody called him "Paddy," and the name stuck. He was the first mayor of Clare. But, more than that, he was the founder of the town.

Some towns are like some girls — you fall in love with them at first sight. Such a place is Clare. Picturesque —a cruelly overworked word—scarcely conveys an idea of its beauty. And just now, in her new dress of verdant green, lavishly splashed with blossom, you see Clare at her best. I am not asking you to take my word. I am suggesting that you go and form your own opinion. It is a little bit of rural England transplanted into a valley of the lower north.

Clare, like Adelaide, was born under a gum tree. That tree, like the old veteran at Glenelg, still stands. It was under its shelter in 1838, when the colony was in its swaddling clothes, that E. B. (Paddy) Gleeson, looking for a site for a station, pitched his tent with an air of "Here I am, and here I stay." And he did stay. Gleeson was a fine character. He was an Irishman, and he scattered little bits of the Emerald Isle all about him. He called the site of the town Clare after his native country. He called his homestead "Inchiquin," after the noted Irish family of that name, and to two adjacent villages he gave the names of Armagh and Donnybrook.

Gleeson arrived in South Australia when it was but nine months old. He came from India, and he brought a batch of Indian servants with him. His first holding was at the foot of the Adelaide hills, the present suburban area known as Beaumont. He called it Gleeville, which name it bore until, unless I am mistaken, the property was acquired by Sir Samuel Davenport. We know that at this time he was one of the wealthiest landholders, for he was the biggest pastoralist in the colony, with the exception, of course, of the South Australian Company. It was while he was at Gleeville that one of his coolies was speared by a blackfellow. It seems strange today to talk of blackfellows spearing people on the Adelaide plains. This particular case caused some stir, and led to a public demand that aborigines should not be permitted to carry weapons within the city boundaries. I do not know the outcome of the agitation, but I know the protector of aborigines of the day had a bad time over it. In this particular case the Indian was attending to his duties, when a native approached and asked for "baccy." Being told to go about his business, he jabbed his spear into the Indian's neck.

It was while he was at Gleeville that Gleeson selected the property at Clare. In the photograph of the old tree on this page, you will see the seat that one of the Indian coolies, a clever axeman named Gongo, carved for his master. Above it may be seen to this day the incision, now calloused, made by the Indians to take the ridgepole of the tent. If it had not been for his Clare property, Gleeson would have been a broken man during the financial crisis which nearly wrecked the colony on the dishonoring of Governor Gawler's bills. As it was he lost the Burnside property. He was sold up, and the proceeds of the auction were dismally disappointing. But he held on to Clare, and laid out the town. When it became a district council area Gleeson was the first chairman. Similarly, when in 1868, it was raised to the status of a municipality, Gleeson was the first mayor. Gleeson was a friend of Horrocks the explorer, whose tale was told last week, and it was the popular Irishman who shot the camel which had been the cause of Horrocks's death.

Clare In The Seventies

I do not know why they made Clare a corporate town in '68. It was very small potatoes in those days, though I suppose that, as a matter of relativity—with apologies to Professor Einstein— it was an important place. The photograph on this page will show you it was far from being the picturesque ville we know today. If Clare was founded by one Irishman, its first buildings were erected on the section of another. It belonged to Dr. Murphy, first Archbishop of Adelaide. He owned section 39. This property his Grace subdivided and sold by public auction, and on it were erected the few scattered humpies which formed the nucleus of the town. The old photograph reproduced here shows Clare in 1870. It depicts Main street looking south.

Ancient History

In the council chamber, surrounded by portraits of the men who made or are making Clare, and a complete set of photographs of the 144 men of the town who went over the top in the big argument of 1914-18, I was introduced to a number of townsmen who played a more or less prominent part in the earlier history of the town. They were Messrs. A. J. Bowley (mayor), E. J. Scott, H. A. French, George Harmer, T. P. Gillen, and A. Whiteman (town clerk).

The name of Bowley is almost as well known as that of Clare itself. There is Bowley's Bridge and Bowley's Hill, and on a rise to the east of the town there is Bowley's House — the first stone cottage erected in Clare, built by the grandfather of the present mayor.

Of course we talked ancient history. We got surprising results. When you hear lifelong residents remark. "Well. I never knew that," you can be fairly certain that you are tracking down new historical data. It is curious that wherever men foregather their thoughts turn to public houses. The first subject of our talk was the earliest hotels. It seems that the first building of the kind in Clare was called the Travellers' Rest. It was erected by a man named McKenzie. Subsequently it passed into the possession of "Sandy" Lawson, and was then called the Stanley Hotel. Eventually it was delicensed. I could not procure dates; but as the third hotel went up in 1859, presumably the Travellers' Rest belongs to the forties.

Ford's was probably the second public house. This well-known landmark, which has long since ceased to operate as a hotel, is still standing in Main street. It was built by a man named Wright.

The Globe (1859) was probably the third hotel. It, too, has ceased to be a pub. It leads a sedate existence as a store these days, but if you look very hard you can decipher the date on the front, with a square and compass, and an open hand, suggesting that once it was the meeting place of the Freemasons and the Oddfellows.

Some of my informants remembered "Paddy" Gleeson, very short and stout, and riding an old grey cob, using the mounting stone which used to be in front of Ford's Hotel. This stone has disappeared, and no one seems to know what has become of it. But you may still see the leadlights intact in what used to be Ford's bar.

The first brewery in the district was at Armagh. It was owned by Willie Kerr— he was never called anything other than Willie — and he used to deliver his grog in a dray drawn by two bullocks. Later a brewery was established in Clare itself by Walter Davies.

Schools And Schoolmasters

On the main road between Clare and Sevenhills, just on the outskirts of the former town, is a small white cottage. This was the first school in Clare. It was kept by William Motley. Motley, apparently, was a character. He first started the school at Donnybrook. Tall, spare, of pale complexion, with a face deeply pock-marked, he seemed to have developed a perpetual thirst, and during the day he was constantly endeavoring to assuage it. Eventually he would go to sleep with his head buried in his arms on the table. Thereupon the boys would troop out to play, leaving one of their number on guard to recall them when the master showed signs of returning consciousness. Motley did not believe in sparing the rod. He kept two canes which he christened "Tommy Tickle" and "The Bulldog." "'Tommy Tickle" was employed for minor chastisement, and "The Bulldog" for major operations. Local tradition said that the blood of the Royal Georges flowed in Motley's veins. Several of the gentlemen with whom I talked attended his school, and were able to give me a first-hand impression of this interesting oddity.

Another early schoolmaster was Billy Moyes. He was a one-armed man, who conducted school in the Methodist Church, and had the reputation of being a good teacher. Before the old town hall was built, Miss Rosie Hawker conducted a school for girls in a small building on the site. Music and dancing were her chief subjects. She was inordinately proud of the fact that her mother danced at the ball at Brussels on the eve of Waterloo. Another early teacher belonging to some period of the sixties was Miss Chandler. She came out as governess to one of the Governors. She taught both girls and boys until the school was abandoned through the mistress having a "stroke." Later L. W. ("Linky") Stanton conducted a private school, which was one of the best in the educational history of Clare. This, of course, was the late Inspector Stanton, of the Education Department.

All these establishments I have mentioned preceded the opening of the first public school. The first master of a Government controlled school was George Newton, who was followed by one of the most brilliant educationists of the day— T. C. Hayward.

Beginnings Of Clare

Clare is built on two original sections. One belonged to Dr. Murphy, the first Roman Catholic Bishop in South Australia. The other was the property of E. B. Gleeson. Gleeson founded Clare when he selected his station of "Inchiquin," with the home stead just on the outskirts of the town. But the first buildings in Clare itself were erected on the section owned by Bishop Murphy, and the first hut within the town boundary was built by John Maynard. Clare was proclaimed a district council in 1852. The first chairman was Gleeson. He was a sort of Pooh-Bah of the Lower North. He ran everything. He was president or chairman of almost every activity for miles around. They called him the "King of Clare." In 1868 Clare was made a corporation. Of course his majesty of "Inchiquin" was the first mayor. But he seems to have ruled his 800 subjects with a light sceptre, for there is no gainsaying the fact that he was extremely popular. Gleeson died at Clare in 1870, and is buried there.

I notice that the official souvenir of the "Back to Clare" celebration mentions that the corporation first met in Smith's hotel. But Mr. E. J. Scott told me the first meeting was held in 1868 in the old courthouse, which was afterwards known as the Casualty Hospital. This was situated in Cemetery road. The building, which was erected by Mr. Scott's father, is still standing.

Mention of the old courthouse reminds me of the reputation of our old friend Gleeson for dispensing rough and ready justice. This "lord" of Inchiquin never worried himself about such trifles as Acts of Parliament. With him it was a case of making the punishment fit the crime. He used this old courthouse, and, when the occasion demanded, he personally carried out his sentences, either with the aid of his fists or his whip. Tradition says the first court over which he presided was held in a tent, but the site of that primitive tribunal has been forgotten.

First Postmaster

Clare has another similarity with Adelaide, in that its present chief thoroughfare was not originally intended to be the main business street. Lennon street was intended to have that honor. This street was named after W. Lennon, the first town clerk. He later became a member of Parliament. It was in Lennon street that the original post office was located. Dr. Stedman was the pioneer postmaster. When, finally, the Main street of the present day was decided on as the chief centre of the town, after the Old North road had been tried and found wanting, the post office was removed there. The site is the present residence of the postmaster, adjoining the existing post office. The second postmaster was a boot and shoe maker named Harrison. He was followed by Andrew Young, a storekeeper. Young made way for an official P.M.— T. J. Bastard, a brother, I think, of the lessee of the City Baths. In the early days of the post office the telegraph section of the department was conducted independently in Ford's hotel at that period known as the Shamrock.

The position of telegraph messenger was no sinecure. It was no unusual thing for a messenger to have to travel thirty miles to deliver a telegram. There are people who still talk about a wonderful ride made from Bundaleer to Clare (over 35 miles) by a station hand employed by the late Charles Brown Fisher. The manager of Bundaleer at that time was James Hill. One night his wife was taken desperately ill. Hill dispatched a rider to Clare for a doctor, with instructions to ride as if the devil were behind him. The rouse about must have thought a whole tribe of fiends was chasing him, for he bridged the big gap in an unbelievably short time. The poor horse, however, paid the penalty by dropping dead in front of the doctor's door.

Coming Of The Jesuits

I stood in the little cemetery at Sevenhills in the dusk of a winter's evening. As I gazed around my eye lighted on an ageing monument in a remote corner of the ground. Some thing about it suggested that it called for investigation, and I strolled over. This is what I read on the solid grey stone which had been cut from a local quarry:—

"Here awaiteth his resurrection Francis Weikert, a native of Silesia, who led the first fathers of the Society of Jesus to Australia in 1848.

He fell asleep in the Lord at Sevenhills, October 3 (1875), aged 83."

Here, then, was the genesis of the Jesuit Order in Australia. The year I have put in parentheses was not cut by the original hand which engraved the stone. Obviously it had been added later. What interested me, however, was that I was on the verge of discovering the history of the establishment of the famous Jesuit College at Sevenhills. I knew it was a romantic story— and I got after it.

To begin at the beginning I must take you back to Silesia, when it was an Austrian province. It was in the forties, or perhaps the late thirties. Religious bigotry was rampant. The Jesuits were particularly singled out for persecution. This brother Weikert, as far as I can make out, was a tradesman. He collected together a small band of victims of religious persecution, and they decided to migrate to Australia. Brother Weikert was not a priest, but he included in his party two ordained members of the Society of Jesus, Fathers Kranewitter and Klinkowstroern. The party— or, rather, some of them, for a number remained in and about Adelaide— made for "Clare Village" soon after arriving in South Australia. They proceeded to establish a settlement. Conditions, however, were frightfully primitive. They originally settled on a block some miles west of the present main road, where the Irish Catholics of the district built them a single-storied house of five rooms without windows. This was in 1849. In those days Clare was not the rich country we know today. The Irish Catholics there were so poor that they could not afford to support a priest, and in 1851 the one stationed there was compelled to leave. Nevertheless the little Jesuit colony buried away in the wilds continued to hang on. But it was a miserable existence. The land they had acquired being unsuitable for their purpose, they secured, through the efforts of Father Kranewitter, another block about six miles from Clare, located on the western side of the hills separating Stanley Flat from Blyth's Plains. This locality was called Bamburnie. One advantage of this block was that water was avail able on the property.

Sevenhills Monastery

But they were still dissatisfied with the prospects, so that in 1851 Father Kranewitter rented the present Sevenhills property at £20 a year for fourteen years with the right of purchase at £2 per acre. Brother John (Schreiner) took possession in 1852, and the colony settled down to the work of development. The poverty of the colony was appalling. Brother John conveyed all their belongings from the old to the new site in a wheelbarrow. Now the little colony of monks, mostly lay brothers, began the erection of the monastery, and the planning of the gardens. They worked from day light to dark.

The church is a marvel of workmanship. Everything is hand made. The old cedar seats are all hand carved. They are as solid today as when they were first placed in the church. I think they will be just as solid a hundred years hence. The fonts are carved from solid marble. Every stone in the building is wonder fully cut. You can see that each tap of the chisel was for the glory of God and not for personal gain. The gardens today are not what they were twenty or thirty years ago. For some reason or other there has been a ruthless slaughter of old trees. But the vineyards are still cultivated, and the famed Sevenhills wine is still manufactured. It is here, also, that the non-fermented sacramental wines for the use of the Church are produced. I was told the sacramental wines for the Church of England are also made at the monastery.

There is a unique wine vault at Sevenhills, cut from solid rock in the side of a hill. Its construction must have involved tremendous labor. Its temperature hardly ever varies summer or winter. That cellar is one of the secrets of the special qualities of Seven hills wine. I was taken into the crypt under the church by the priest-in-charge, Father McCarthy. Thirty-seven monks sleep there in two-tier vaults let into the wall on either side of a long, narrow passage. Each vault is closed by a marble slab giving the name and the usual details of the departed brother. Brother John is amongst those who sleep there. There are still a number of open cavities for the bodies of those still to be called to their fathers.

Cabinet Tragedy Recalled

While I was standing in the Seven hills cemetery my attention was called to a monument commemorating the tragic death of Mr. P. P. Gillen, Commissioner of Crown Lands, who died suddenly during a meeting of Cabinet in 1896. It carries a striking inscription, the work, I believe, of Charles Cameron Kingston, in whose Ministry Mr. Gillen was:—

"Sacred to the memory of Peter Paul Gillen, for 35 years a resident of Clare; a representative of this district in three Parliaments; for four years Commissioner of Crown Lands of the province who, while as a Minister of the Crown engaged in Cabinet in benevolent counsels for the relief of the necessitous, was suddenly called by God at Adelaide on the 22nd day of September, 1896; aged 38 years. A dutiful son; a devoted husband; an affectionate father and brother; a faithful friend; an able and a zealous public servant; a man of purity, and honor— a humble Christian. Erected as a tribute to his worth by friends of many creeds."

Clare In 1932

The modern history of today is the ancient history of tomorrow. The mayor (Mr. Bowley) and I had something of this kind in our minds when we set out to inspect Clare as it is. Clare is a bit larger today than it was a year ago. Last May an area about a mile long was added to the southern boundary of the town. At the southern end of Main street is the high school, a substantial structure which dispenses instruction in all kinds of secondary subjects to some 85 students. It is a handsome building, and is, I believe, doing splendid work. As I gazed on the structure, with its attendant workshop and equipment, I could not help contrasting the advantages offered to the youth of today with the sort of education which sufficed when you and I were boys and girls; nor could I help wondering what actual return the State is receiving for these costly palaces of instruction which are today scattered through the length and breadth of the State.

You see, that is one of the effects of the depression— when you have, so to speak, to pawn the family plate to pay your taxes, you are rather apt to take a warped view of anything in the shape of Government expenditure which does not yield a direct return. And if there is any Government venture today yielding a direct return, I would like to hear about it.

One of Clare's trump cards is its fruit. The Stanley Dried Fruits Association is a registered packing shed which is handling the products of the district on highly modern lines. An up-to-date dehydration plant has recently been installed. The Ottawa agreement, and the prospect of good prices in the coming season, are factors responsible for optimism regarding the immediate future.

In a building formerly occupied by the old Co-operative Jam Factory, the Stanley Wine Company is operating, while the Clarevale Winery occupies the former stables of Hill & Co., belonging to the days when Clare was the centre of the Mid-Northern coach routes. The first mentioned winery has rather an interesting history dating from 1893, when it was founded by five persons— J. H. Knappstein, John Christensen, sen., Dr. Otto Wein Smith, Magnus Badger, and B. Basedow. Since 1911 it has been in the Knappstein family, who are turning out annually about 200,000 gallons of dry and sweet wines for export.

The thing which struck me particularly about these wineries was the use of fermenting tanks constructed of Mintaro slate. The Mintaro quarries are about nine miles from Clare. They are the largest slate mines in the world, and the quality of the article produced is said to have no superior. Modern machinery is used for lifting out huge blocks of stone, most of which are destined to become perfect one-piece billiard tables.

Clare has a hospital which cost £30,000 to build and equip. It has twenty beds, and has been in existence eight years. Matron Patullo is in charge.

The golf links are part of the old "Inchiquin" sheep run. The old racecourse used to be on this property also, but of recent years turf events have been decided on the new course some miles further north. On the golf course are the workings of an old gold mine. I was told it gave good prospects years ago. But for some reason the workings were abandoned, and they have never been tested since. At the entrance to the golf course is the Old Scholars' Plot, where trees have been planted in memory of boys of the Clare school who fell in the war. On the northern edge of the town is the old "Inchiquin" homestead built by "Paddy" Gleeson. It and the adjoining stables are intact as they were in the days when "Paddy" dispensed rough-handed justice with his whip from the back of his old, grey cob. The house is now occupied by Mrs. James Hill.

NEXT WEEK. Brinkworth and Georgtown.

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