No 17 Auburn

Swapping Yarns

In the council chamber one Monday I met Messrs. B. H. Roberts (chairman), E. H. Maddern (district clerk), G. Freeman, James Robinson, J. W. Castine, E. W. Castine and Mrs Barkley— all old Auburn. We swapped yarns. That is to say, they swapped yarns and I listened. When you get a room full of old residents talking together there aren't many blanks. What one cannot remember the other can. They enjoy these impromptu reunions, these old people— and I find them extremely valuable.

You see, right away back in the dim ages of the past, before he entered Parliament and secured Cabinet rank, Mr. J. W. Castine had a country store in the main street of the picturesque and scattered village which was then Auburn, and Mrs. Barkley remembers the town when it was just one great endless paddock, with not a single fence. When you meet people who go as far back as that you are, in a way, getting into prehistoric times. You are right at the beginning of things, you would not be surprised if Horrocks himself walked in to tell you about the virgin bush of the early forties.

Auburn, as a district council area, is among the oldest in the State. It dates from 1854, when Sir Henry Edward Fox Young, who was then governor, issued a proclamation separating it from Clare. It was given the name of the District Council of Upper Wakefield. Its first chairman was Christopher Giles, and the first district clerk was Joseph Stear Cole. This Cole afterwards became a schoolmaster at Watervale, and was known as “the rector of Cole's Grammar School”. He was, if I am not mistaken, the first schoolmaster at Auburn. The first councillors were John Brewer (Upper Wakefield), James H. Bleechmore (Upper Wakefield), James Taylor (Watervale), and Thomas Thomas (Upper Wakefield).

The first council meeting was held in the Rising Sun Hotel, which was the district headquarters for a long time. This hostelry, now, of course, completely modernised, is an ancient landmark. Fortunately the more historic portions of the building are still standing. These are the old stables. They were not only the headquarters for the coaches between Adelaide and Clare, but the upper storey was used as a courthouse, and when, with the march of progress, electric telegraphy was introduced between Auburn and Adelaide, it was in the old stables that the first instruments were installed.

The most prominent residents of Auburn about this time were the Bleechmore family; indeed, so numerous were they, and such influence did they exert, that more often than not early Auburn was called Bleechmore Town. It was one of this extensive family who had the Rising Sun at the time the council came into existence. Their most prominent members were Charles, Joseph Edwin, W. T., Ben, James H., George, Mrs. Bleechmore, sen., and two Misses Bleechmore. In one corner of the old cemetery you may see endless monuments bearing this well known name. One stone bears the inscription:— "Joseph Edwin Bleechmore. J.P., died 10th August, 1888, aged 56, after 39 years' residence in Auburn. Erected by the public." [For a detailed Bleechmore family list please visit https://sites.google.com/site/bleechmorefamily/ which was researched and created by the Editor].

Enchanting Setting

Auburn should be a paradise for landscape artists. Nestling in the valley of the Wakefield, with the picturesque river cutting the town in twain, quaint old Cottages set amongst giant gums, the town itself scattered over undulating country, one encounters beauty whichever way one turns. There s little really level ground. One is either climbing uphill or going downhill.

The district has many strings to its bow— wheat, dairying, wine-making, sheep, and lamb raising, pigs, and calves. Once it had two breweries and a flour mill, but now there are no local industries. I wonder why?

I have been wondering that ever since I set out months ago to explore our country centres. It is an old, old tale in almost every town — once flourishing industries, some employing 60 to 100 men, nothing but a memory. "Why?" I ask again. Does it not suggest there is something wrong in the State of South Australia? These industries have not died as the result of the present depression. They gave up the ghost years ago!

The main road divides the town into New Auburn and Old Auburn. Today those names have no meaning except to local residents, who were little children when New Auburn came into being. Old Auburn is the original town on the western side of the road. It was here the early vil lage started. New Auburn was then a huge unfenced paddock. Old Auburn is the civic centre. It contains the council chamber, the post office, the police station, and other public buildings.

It was in Auburn that I encountered a 'mounting stone,' the first I had ever seen— a relic of the days when everybody rode a horse. It is outside Mr. J. Limbert's shop, and is still in use. It is an immense block of stone cut into the form of three steps to assist riders in mounting their horses. Nobody in Auburn takes much notice of it. Yet it is a priceless relic. I hope these lines come under the notice of the Museum authorities. It would be a pity if this little bit of early South Australia was not preserved for future generations. [Still exists - heritage protected Ed.]

Wakefield River

The natural division of the town into two parts is the Wakefield River running approximately north and south, and discharging into the sea near Port Wakefield. The road to the railway station crosses this river, but there is no bridge — just a ford. There is a picturesque footbridge over it for pedestrians, but vehicular traffic ploughs its way across. When I saw the stream it was merely about 18 in. deep. But the Wakefield is not always so gentle. There are great black marks against its record — marks heavily charged with tragedy. The Wakefield can be a terror when it comes down in flood.

Once long ago, two men in a cart braved its passage when it was in an angry mood. They paid for their temerity with their lives. Then the coach from Kapunda to Clare essayed a passage when the river said, 'Thou shalt not pass,' and a horse was washed away and drowned. The passengers were saved by secur ing the coach with ropes to nearby trees. This little stream, which on occasions can become such a mighty power, has its beginning on a hill on a property a few miles distant. Local tradition says the Wakefield, the Light, and the Gilbert all have their beginning on this one section. I can not say if that is so. I repeat the statement as I heard it.

Discharging into the Wakefield is the Skyloglee Creek, which runs through the western part of the district, and is spanned by three reinforced concrete bridges. The creek was discovered and named by Horrocks, The word is said to be aboriginal, and to mean a particular kind of native food.

Five miles from Auburn is the well known Martindale estate, now owned by the Mortlocks. In former times it belonged to Edmund Bowman, that same pioneer pastoralist who one day in 1866 slipped off a plank bridge near Port Wakefield, and was drowned.

There are still fish in the Wakefield, but not as many as there were years ago. The floods are blamed for the shortage. Years ago the river was noted for its 'yabbies'— whoppers which were as thick in the water as soursobs are in the fields today. A favorite pastime was to go 'yabbying' with a kerosene tin. Half an hour usually sufficed to fill it. Then the shelled victims were boiled by the roadside to provide a picnic meal for the fishers. Mudfish still hide in the murky depths of waterholes. Not being esteemed for dietary purposes they are generally left unmolested. There are supposed to be trout in the upper reaches. Over a decade since a number of fry were released. With the instinct of their kind they made upstream. Finally it became necessary to clean out a dam on a neighboring station. Wire netting was used as a net to deal with the fish. But the weight of fish was so great that it required the exertions of several men to work it. For weeks after that the people of the country wide were fed on trout - until, it is said, they grew so tired of the delicacy that they could never again be induced to look at a fish. But I do not think the Wakefield would be regarded as an angler's paradise today.

The 'Colonel': A Youth Of 87

While we sat chatting in the council chamber I kept looking at Mr. Castine. Years ago we knew him as 'the colonel.' 'Was it possible,' I asked myself, 'that this young-old man with the sprightly step of a youth of fifty-five to sixty was within coo-ee of ninety years?" I believe, as a matter of strict accuracy, he is in his 87th year. He loves Auburn, this energetic old gentleman, because it gave him his start in life. He told me he and his partner, Frederick Gors, borrowed £10 to provide the capital to start their store. The colonel at that time was in his 20th year. He 'did' for himself, and slept under the counter at night. But he had an immense energy, and a definite will to win, the two main ingredients of success.

Colonel Castine is, with the exception of Sir Josiah Symon, the oldest living representative of our former legislators, and is the sole survivor of the Downer Ministry of 1892-3, in which he held the portfolios of Education and Agriculture. I could not have encountered a richer mine of historic information than the colonel, who happened to be in Auburn for 'Back to St. John's' week. He not only saw Auburn in the very early stages of its being, but he has been writing a history of the town, not, I understand, with the the intention of publishing it, but rather of leaving behind him a written record of its early days. When it comes to historic facts I have no conscience — and I 'pinched' as much as I could of Colonel Castine's manuscript.

Auburn in 1857 comprised a hotel, store, and blacksmith's shop. At the rear of the hotel were the stables of which I have spoken, which were used for dances, as a courthouse, and as a post office. At that period the Burra mines were being developed. The ore was carted from Burra Burra to Port Wakefield in waggons drawn by bullocks and mules. Auburn was a sort of halfway house on those journeys to and from the seaport, and the favorite camping ground of the teamsters was 'Bleechmore's Waterhole' — that ford over the Wakefield which I described earlier in this article.

The establishment, of the library in 1859 was a local landmark. Gavin D. Young was the first president. Sir Charles (then Mr.) Todd visited Auburn in 1860, and lectured on the new science of telegraphy. Shortly after this a telegraph station and school were established. The library was first located in a corn store belonging to Mr. William Wyles, but when the town hall was built in 1866 the books were transferred to the new building. The town hall cost £2,000. It was erected by a company, the capital being 800 shares at £2 10/. The president was E. B. Gleeson, the founder of Clare, whose acquaintance we will make more intimately next week, and the secretary was W T. Bleechmore. Presumably the town hall was not a paying proposition; at all events, it eventually had to be sold. As a matter of historic interest it is worth recording that in 1871 the town hall was illuminated by gas, locally produced. Today, of course, Auburn is lighted by electricity.

Ministerial Dignity

Parliament, and the things pertaining to Parliament, has lost a lot of its dignity these modern times. In the days when Burra and Clare were represented by Sir George Kingston, much more ceremonial at tended matters of public administration. Deputations were important events. Colonel Castine related how, having to attend a deputation in the city, he had to invest in a frock coat and silk hat in order to appear before the Minister properly dressed. Nowadays deputations hop in on the spur of the moment— and the costume sometimes is a pair of overalls.

One of the earliest policemen in the Auburn district in the sixties was a trooper named Field. On one occasion he had to track a horse thief through the dense scrub. The wanted man was known as a desperate character, liable to make holes in any man who attempted to take him. One day Field saw smoke rising above the bush. He dismounted, and went slowly forward on foot. Sure enough it was the thief. Field covered him with his revolver, and called on him to surrender. Finding himself at a disadvantage the criminal submitted quietly to arrest. It was not until Field got back to the police station with his man that he discovered he had for gotten to load his revolver! What the outlaw thought about it is not recorded.

Between 1865 and 1868 Auburn, in common with other parts of the State, had a lean period, in '65 a plague of locusts swept over the country. Flourishing crops disappeared in a single night. Next year red rust shrivelled up the wheat. As seed was difficult to procure the farmers sowed the damaged grain, and it yielded crops as good as any ever seen. Then followed several years of hard retrenchment and economy. These conditions prevailed more or less until 1873. That was a year of good harvests. Freights to England were £4 per ton, and there was so much money in the country that it went begging.

Both Colonel Castine and Mr. Robinson witnessed the remains of the explorers, Burke and Wills, being carried through Auburn on their way to Melbourne. The cavalcade comprised sixteen horses and camels, and the bodies of the explorers were covered with Union Jacks.

It was Auburn which gave to the world C J. Dennis. The author of "The Sentimental Bloke," was born in the District (now the Auburn) Hotel. A. J. Usher, who established Ushers Hotel in Sydney, was also Auburn born. Other more or less distinguished men who came from the district were Dr. Torr, former principal of Way College; Dr, Jethro Brown; Mr. N. W. Jolly, of the Department, of Forestry at Canberra; and Dr. Edgar Browne. The Hon. J. J. Duncan was once chairman of the Upper Wakefield District Council.

Story Of St. John's

I struck Auburn in the throes of a 'back' movement. This time it was 'Back to St. John's,' the Anglican Church up on the hill. The Bishop thought the occasion sufficiently important to deliver his blessing in person. It was the 60th anniversary. St. John's came into being in the days when parishes extended from here to nowhere, and ministers had to get from one wild spot to another over almost hopeless tracks the best way they could. Mostly an unpretentious buggy and a boney, ramshackle horse were the means of locomotion, or else he journeyed a cheval. Sometimes he just 'hoofed it' like any vulgar tramp.

Usually service was at one town in the morning and another at night. The interval between was filled in by staggering through the broiling sun in summer, or floundering hopelessly through the slush in winter. But heat or cold these pioneer parsons carried their message through the bush, and the people were all the better for it. Folk took their religion seriously in those days.

St. John's has a unique history. It is the only church I know of which has been seized for debt. I will tell you the story presently. The building dates from 1862, so that it is fairly old as ages go in this country. It was one of those places of worship of which I have been writing— it had no resident minister. It was served from Riverton, where the Rev. J. B. Titherington had charge of a scattered and extensive district. One day in 1867, when Mr.Titherington was crossing the swollen Light, he slipped in and was drowned. Parsons in those days faced danger as well as difficulty. The roads were mostly bush tracks, and badly defined at that. There were no bridges across the rivers— just felled trees affording an insecure foothold. The blacks were a constant menace, though if left alone were generally harmless. Nevertheless they had an unpleasant habit of paying off the score against one white man by putting a spear through another.

St. John's was built on land given to Bishop Short by a local landowner. The people subscribed £1,000 to erect the building, and in 1862 it was opened amid great rejoicing free of debt. In 1870 the Rev. C. W. Hawkins became the first resident minister. The bombshell fell in 1872, when the building was seized for debt. Then the trustees did what they should have done ten years earlier— they had the register searched to ascertain the legality of their title. It was discovered that the owner of the land had mortgaged his estate some years previously, and the mortgage included the plot on which the church stood. The mortgagees foreclosed, and the ground on which the church stood was seized with the rest of the property, and was offered for sale by auction. The church block was purchased for £211 by Mr. James Wigley, who offered to let the church people have it back at that figure. There are people living who remember the sensation the affair caused. People of all denomi ations contributed towards the fund for repurchasing the building. Even the blackfellows employed on roundabout stations sent in their 'bit.' The required sum was subscribed, and the church this time secured an unassailable title. I have given this bit of local history for the benefit of other bodies who might be placed in similar uncertain circumstances.

NEXT WEEK: Clare: Garden of the State.

Images

• • John Horrocks, shortly before his death. — Courtesy of the Archives.

  • Horrocks on his ill-fated expedition in 1846, reproduced from a sketch made by a member of the party.— Courtesy of the Archives.

  • Mr. B. H. Roberts, Chairman Upper Wakefield District Council.

  • Old mounting-stone outside Limbert's store, Auburn. — Limbert photo