No 1 Gawler

I wonder if you are like me? I have motored to Gawler I do not know how many times, and I thought I knew the town. But I never did. I was content to spin along the fine bitumen highway on which one covered the distance between the capital and the old northern town in well under an hour, and I never gave a thought to the time when there was no bitumen highway, or, for that matter no highway at all— not even the old-time bullock track. It never occurred to me that there was a period in the history of the country when it took three days to travel between the two points, and one was lucky to reach one's destination— 25 miles from the city, mind you— without being speared by blacks, dying of thirst, or losing one's self in the illimitable bush. Yet such things actually occurred on the undulating plains which we pass go thoughtlessly every day. If I were to invite you to come on a tour with me, you would naturally enquire, "Where to?" When I answered "Gawler," you would probably look at me with some surprise, perhaps a little pity, and retort, "Nonsense. I've been to Gawler often, and I know it well."

But do you? If your visits were anything like mine, then you drove up Murray street, had a look at the shops, ran your car into the shelter of the trees fringing the Para, pulled out your hamper, had lunch, and, after a pleasant nap, returned to town satisfied that you knew Gawler.

But you never did. You cannot see Gawler from Murray street, any more than you can see it from the banks of the river. You cannot see it when you look down on it from the heights, nor when you look up at it from the bottom of its hills. All you see then is the shell of the old town. But its heart is hidden from you — and unless you can look into the heart of a town you cannot know it.

I hope to show you Gawler in a new light. As we spin along the bitumen roadway I will talk to you of the time when there were no roads— just interminable miles of thick, treacherous bush; when the bullock dray tolled laboriously through the virgin scrub, the exhausted beasts falling by the wayside for lack of water; when venturesome whites left their bones bleaching in the merciless sun, and a journey to Gawler was more of an adventure than an expedition to savage Somaliland would be today. It seems ridiculous in 1932 to speak of a journey to Gawler as a great adventure. But things were different a hundred years ago — 93 years to be historically correct.

Gawler was laid out as a township in 1839 by an Irishman, Mr. John Reid. The name, I admit, does not sound much like the Emerald Isle. But the Reid family was a noted one from Newry, a seaport town on the boundaries of two counties, Down and Armagh. They were what was termed in those days "gentle folk." The Reids arrived in South Australia in January, 1839. Their ship was the Orleana, and the name is commemorated today in Orleana square in the centre of Gawler. They wanted land in the province, and they made their application to Colonel Gawler, who had only recently taken over reins of government from Captain Hindmarsh. He and Colonel Light particularly the latter— urged them to take up a section at the foot of the Barossa Ranges. Accordingly, with Mr. H. D. Murray and a few others, they obtained a "special survey," the system then in vogue for allotting land. Murray street, Gawler, commemorates this Murray. Nuriootpa, Angaston, and Tanunda have similarly named their main thoroughfares after the same gentleman. He was the son of a Scottish baronet in the village of Ochtertyre.

It was the Reids, however, who founded Gawler. Their daughter, Mrs. Eliza Mahony, has left behind her in manuscript the story of the birth of South Australia's first northern settlement. Early one summer morning in 1839 the Reids left their small cottage in Currie street — so small that the cooking had to be done in the open street, and set out for their new location. They packed their possessions on to three drays, each drawn by six oxen preceded by a horse and cart. Into these vehicles father, mother, sons, daughters, and servants distributed themselves as best they could. The small procession travelled slowly— bullocks are not noted for speed — and crossed the Torrens by ford. Passing through North Adelaide, they entered a forest of pines— now Prospect and Enfield. The track was tortuous and narrow between the trees with high kangaroo grass almost burying them from sight.

Lost In The Bush

The sun beat down mercilessly. At midday they lit a fire to cook a meal. In an instant the whole party was threatened with destruction. The high, dry grass caught alight, and the flames roared through the country with diabolical fury. Fortunately for the pioneers, the wind blew the fire away from them, and their worst casualty was a fright.

At the Little Para the settlers reached the farthest outpost of civilisation. They were 13 miles from the city, and buried in the heart of the great Australian bush. The track ceased. They had to rely henceforth on their own sense of direction. Mr. Reid knew the route. Giving the others instructions to follow the trades of his cart with their slower bullock drays, he pushed on ahead.

After an hour or two the party lost the tracks, and found themselves stranded. The heat was terrific, 112 in the shade. Throats, noses, and nostrils were becoming parched. Humans and beasts seemed to be breathing fiery air. Soon the bullocks knocked up, and one died. By now the travellers were reduced to a state of despair. Lost, no water, bullocks unable to continue, and everybody exhausted and dis-spirited, they sat down dejectedly in the shadow of the drays. The only bright spot was their knowledge that Mr. Reid would eventually return and pick up their tracks.

Mr. Reid did not come back. But he sent a horseman to look for them. That horseman carried something that in their sight was more precious than gold— a bottle of water. Just as he got up to them his horse stumbled, and the water was spilled. This fresh calamity took what little heart remained, for there was only enough of the precious fluid left to wet their lips.

But the rider got the party moving again. Suffering tortures, they at length reached Dead Man's Pass and the end of their adventurous journey. The story of Dead Man's Pass is another tale.

Naming Of Gawler

That Gawler derived its name from Colonel Gawler, Governor of the province, is well known. But why, how, and by whom it was given is not so generally understood. It was Mrs. Mohony's father who gave the town its name. Here is her account of the circumstances: —

"The township we named Gawler after the Governor. He had been so kind in giving us the land as he did, and in many other ways he had shown us great kindness. The streets are named, many of them, after the people interested; one square for our ship 'Orleana,' and a street for our captain Cameron."

The Reid family erected the first house in Gawler— a hut. It was on the east side of what is now Murray street. I hope that some day the local corporation will mark the site before it is forgotten. The hut was so small that the family had to dine at a table under a tree in the open. Later a "mansion" of three rooms was erected of wattle and daub. It had a calico ceiling, and whitewashed walls. The settlers were hard put to it to get servants, and it was harder still to keep them. Conditions were too primitive.

On one occasion one of the family was ordered fresh meat by the doctor. There was none to give him, not even a sheep. The situation had to be met by killing birds. They lived on parrot pies and cockatoos. "Cockatoos," Mrs. Mahony remarks, "are tough and nasty."

The Old Spot

From early times the Old Spot Hotel has been a conspicuous landmark in Gawler. It was the first hotel in the district, and the first building in the township. In its original form it consisted of one room, which served as a bar and bedroom. A tent provided additional accommodation for "rush" periods. This is how it came to be built:— By the end of 1839 a fairly constant stream of travellers was passing through the embryo township, and as the Reid hut faced the main road from Adelaide, and hospitality was the unwritten law of the bush, the family found the expense of entertaining strangers something more than they could bear.

Mr. Reid knew a German named Schiebner. He lent him the money to erect the hotel in order to lessen the strain on the limited resources of the pioneer family. Schiebner subsequently became a schoolmaster, and later insolvent.

The present hotel of the same name occupies the site of the original house. I refer, of course, to the Old Spot in Gawler town.

Here is a story showing the difficult nature of the country in those days: — On Christmas Day, 1839, Governor Gawler, riding through the bush from somewhere on the Murray, was to have dined with the Reid's at their house. An orderly arrived to meet him with dispatches, but his Excellency failed to put in an appearance. He arrived with his A.D.C. the next day. They had missed the track, and had slept in the bush the previous night, with only one blanket each.

If you go into St. George's Church of England you will see on the right hand side a brass tablet on the wall, commemorating this pioneer family. It reads: —

“In memory of John Reid, of Newry, Ireland, fourth son of Samuel Reid, Esq., gentleman, of that borough; born November 11, 1795, died October 12, 1874, who arrived in South Australia in January, 1839, by the ship 'Orleana,' and who, with H. D. Murray, of Ochtertyre, Scotland, son of the 6th baronet, took out the special survey, and, with others, laid out the town of Gawler, and in whose house the first Church of England service held north of Adelaide was conducted by the Rev. C. B. Howard, MA.”

Then follow the names and dates of birth and death of various members of the family. Next time you are in Gawler have a look at this tablet.

The church also is worth looking at. Nearly all the windows are memorials of people who have been closely identified with the history of the town. One especially attracted my attention. It is in memory of Colonel Gawler. It bears the inscription,

“In memoriam, Colonel George Gawler, K.G., 57th Regt., Peninsula, Waterloo; second Governor of South Australia; obit. May 7, 1869. Faithful to Christ and Sovereign."

The Humbugs

One cannot write of old-time Gawler without recalling the Society of Humbugs. It made Gawler famous. It numbered many prominent South Australians among its members, and it achieved in a curious way much good by its unmerciful satirising of humbug in public and social life.

The Humbug Society was an inspiration and an impulse. It was founded on the spur of the moment by two men, Jefferson Stow and George Isaacs, away back in 1859. One night they were idly standing in the Globe Hotel. The place was a popular resort for lodge gatherings, and this night it seemed unusually full of people in gold and crimson trappings. There seemed to be "worshipful masters," "most noble grands," and "sublime sirs" everywhere — in the passages, in the dining room, in the bar, and in the bedrooms.

Stow turned to Isaacs— "Humbug," he said disdainfully. That exclamation gave both men an inspiration. Why not satirise all this nonsense?

They sat down then and there, and drafted the rules of the Humbug Society. The idea caught on immensely. Their own proceedings were full of the very quality they condemned, but it was open and deliberate humbug.

The first rule of the society was— "The object of this association is the open advocacy of humbug, in contra-distinction, to its secret practice in most other societies." The three principal officers controlling the association were the arch flam, the bouncible bam, and the surprising sham. The members were divided into three classes — ordinary, extraordinary, and unsurpassable humbugs. It was laid down that M.P.'s, J.P.'s, and others with letters after their names should not be eligible for membership, "with a view to preserving the respectability of the society." Any member summarily expelled from the society was, by way of punishment, to be elected a member of Parliament on the first vacancy occurring, "as a mark of contempt."

Illustrating the trend of the debates of the Humbug Society, once they gravely discussed a motion that the management of the affairs of the colony "should be let by tender for seven or fourteen years, by which means the cost and trouble of Parliament would be lessened, and the work better done at half the price."

Jefferson Stow later became editor of "The Advertiser," and subsequently an S.M. Isaacs, too, turned to journalism. He was the founder of the original "Critic," and wrote satirical matter under the nom de plume of "A. Pendragon."

Dead Man's Pass

Gawler may have had its fun; it has also had its tragedies. I told you there was a story in Dead Man's Pass. Here it is. If, when running out of Murray street on your return to Adelaide, you keep straight on, instead of following the bitumen over the bridge, you will be on the old main road to the city.

This piece of road between the end of Murray street and the Para River, is Dead Man's Pass. I daresay you have passed it hundreds of lines without ever giving it a thought. That shows you do not know Gawler as you thought you did.

Somewhere about 1837, an exploring party was set out by Colonel Light and Mr. Finniss. They were returning to the capital from the Barossa ranges. The country known today as Gawler was then bush. Travelling slowly through the scrub, the explorers had their attention attracted by a faint moan. A sound like that in the midst of the great silence of Nature was something no bushman ever disregarded. A search was instituted, and in the long, thick grass the travellers came across unmistakable evidence that someone was in trouble.

Eventually they located a man in the last stages of exhaustion, obviously perishing from hunger and thirst. They gave him a few drops of water and a couple of crumbs of bread. Then rough but sympathetic hands lifted him into the cart, and they made him as comfortable as circumstances would permit. The journey was resumed. On reaching the ford at the South Para— the particular piece of roadway I have mentioned— they decided it was time to give the sick man more nourishment. They thought he was sleeping, and attempted to rouse him. But he was dead. They had no means of giving him decent burial. But they found a hollow tree in which they placed the body. They covered it with leaves and bark, and left it. On reaching the capital they reported the affair to their employers.

Some time later another expedition set out north. It was led this time by Light and Finniss. On reaching the, South Para they recovered the body, and gave it proper burial. From that time forth the locality was known as Dead Man's Pass.

Here is the history of another tragedy. More than fifty years have passed since it occurred, but the old people still recall it.

Gawler in 1879 was no longer bush. It was a virile, lively, and prosperous town. One morning the whole place was stirred by a report that the bodies of two well-known citizens had been found at their residence hanging side by side. It was a case of double suicide. The victims were two old friends who had lived together. They had fallen on evil days. One had been dismissed from his employment; both were in financial difficulties. The crisis came when a bailiff took possession of their house. They decided to end it. They left behind them a long, well reasoned statement. It showed with what coolness and deliberation they had gone about the business. They gave details of a number of experiments they had carried out on ways of ending life before, finally, they decided on death by hanging. And, before performing their own "hari kari," they painlessly did away with their faithful old dog.

NEXT WEEK Gawler (concluded) and Tanunda.

Images

• This old cottage is still standing. It is reputed to be the first built in the town. In any case it dates from the early days of Gawler.

• GAWLER IN 1843, four years after its first settlement. The reproduction is from a sketch by James Henderson, in the Public Archives, and is published here, by permission.

• GAWLER IN 1932, a birds-eye view from the tower of St. George's Church. Marchant photo. (See below)