No 22 Crystal Brook

Crystal Brook was not born— it was not even thought of— when it was named. Most infants, even if they are towns, enter the world first before they are christened. In the case of Crystal Brook the process was reversed. Eyre named Crystal Brook years before there was any thought of settlement — away back in 1839, when the country was virgin bush; not even a sheep station.

When I was In Crystal Brook a week or two ago the town was in a state of semi-intoxication — not the sort arising from the too frequent use of the magical phrase, "Here's luck," but the sort that has its being in emotional anticipation of great events. The great event then pending was the "Back" movement to celebrate the jubilee of the district council. Although it wanted nearly a week to the opening day of the festivities, an epidemic had already set in of welcoming all sorts and conditions of people. On the railway station platform there was a perfect orgy of hugging and kissing as old friend met old friend. In the end I grew furiously jealous. Here were young girls throwing themselves into the arms of middle aged men, and there was I, seemingly not worth even a glance of disdain. I felt hurt.

Sulkily I turned into Bowman street. This is the main thoroughfare, named after the noted pastoralist family who held the Crystal Brook run after it was sold by Younghusband and Ferguson. Workmen were erecting and testing strings of colored electric light bulbs. Carts laden with material seemed to be in each other's way. You could see that Mrs. Crystal Brook was busy sweeping up the backyard, and dusting the furniture, because visitors were expected. By now the hectic week is over. I can see Crystal Brook holding its aching head in its shaking hands, and wondering what all the fuss was about.

They have some unconscious humorists in Crystal Brook I stopped in front of a large store which had recently been burnt down. Over the ruins floated a streamer:— “Why pay more for petrol when you can get it at Blank's garage for 2/3?” I don't think that was an appropriate place for the streamer. It struck me as a general invitation to emulate Nero the night they made a bonfire of Rome. My waitress was also a humorist. "Are you staying today?' she enquired, when she brought me a cup of tea on the morning of my departure. "No," I answered. "I go on today." "Good-oh." she replied. Now, what did she mean?

Crystal Brook struck me as nothing if not up-to-date. It is not a large town. But it is well laid out, full of civic pride. Its people know it is surrounded by a wonderful district— and they don't care who else knows it. It is the biggest wheat receiving centre in the State. In 1920-21 it handled 346,000 bags (1,000,000 bushels) of wheat. Its average is about 240,000 bags. The only other town which runs it closely for the wheat receiving stakes is Kimba, on the West Coast.

Busy And Prosperous

Bowman street has one way traffic. It is a wide thoroughfare with a planted reserve running down the centre. The reserve is used as a parking place for cars. The day I was there was the weekly sale day. Both sides of the reserve, and both sides of the streets were filled with motor cars. I had never seen so many in a country town. The place not only looked busy, it was busy. I did not need to be told that in normal times it was prosperous. One could deduce that for oneself.

You have heard of the great open spaces? If you want to know something about them you ought to talk to Mr C. C. [Charles Cameron] Buttfield. He is the district engineer of the Northern Water District. That might not sound very impressive. But you will probably change your opinion when I tell you the size of that district. It is bounded west by Western Australia, north by the Northern Territory, and east by Queensland and New South Wales. If you want any "open space" bigger than that, you had better seek it in infinity. It is easily bigger than a kingdom. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that, when Mr. Buttfield returns from one of his grand tours of inspection, he has to be reintroduced to his own wife and family. You can not cover a "paddock" of those dimensions in half an hour or so. The reticulation system of country lands in this area is the largest in the world. You would scarcely expect to come across a fact like that in Crystal Brook. It includes such great reservoirs as Beetaloo, Bundaleer, Baroota, and Warren. With Mr. Buttfleld I went to the head works of the Crystal Brook water supply. I wanted to go there because the caretaker's cottage was the original homestead of the Bowman's, who owned the Crystal Brook station. I suspect it was also the homestead of Younghusband and Ferguson, the original owners of the section, but I was unable definitely to establish that fact.

Beginnings Of "The Brook"

I told you Crystal Brook was so named by Eyre some forty years before there was any real idea of settlement as a town. The province in 1839 was not three years old. The interior was a terra incognita. With a party of five men, two teams of horses, and provisions for three months, Edward John Eyre set out to find an overland route between Adelaide and Port Lincoln. He found and named the Hutt, Wakefield, and Broughton Rivers. The Hutt was called after John Hutt, a member of the House of Commons, who took much interest in the founding of South Australia; the Wakefield, of course, after Edward Gibbon Wakefield, and the Broughton after William Grant Broughton, first Bishop of Australia. Then, striking north-westerly, Eyre discovered and named the Rocky River, called by the natives Wongabirie. Later a clear running stream, meandering between beautiful old gums, was encountered. Eyre called it Crystal Brook. The blacks called it Mercowie. As usual, I agree with the niggers. By the way Eyre's original spelling of the name was "Chrystal Brook." Eyre did not find his overland route, and returned to Adelaide—but that has nothing to do with this history.

In last week's article on Port Pirie, I told you the story of Younghusband and Ferguson, who owned the country between Crystal Brook and Port Pirie (then Samuel's Creek). They were the original holders of the section on which Crystal Brook now stands. They hold the property for eight years. Then they sold it to the Bowman's. This was the genesis of the settlement. Later I will give you the story of the Bowmans, and their neighbors, the Reid brothers. Just now we will get on with the story of Crystal Brook.

Bunyips And Grog Shops

In the late fifties and the early sixties sheep and cattle, and a few isolated station hands, comprised the population of "The Brook.'" The first store in the district was located on the Rocky River, some time in the seventies. It was established by P. M. Keville. Also on the Rocky River was a grog shop which bore a strange reputation. It was a shanty building. The great attraction of the shanty was a bunyip. In the seventies this fabled animal was a real thing to the settlers. The legend (supposed to have been spread, by the owner of the "hotel") was that the bunyip inhabited the nearby Wirrawirra waterhole, and that an underground channel connected the waterhole with the sea. So firmly convinced were the settlers of the existence of the bunyip that parties were commonly formed to shoot it. Of course it was never found. On one occasion a dray drawn by four bullocks got into the Wirrawirra waterhole. The four beasts were drowned, but the driver escaped.

The first real settlement in the district started at Narridy, approximately seven miles west of Crystal Brook. This small village was the cradle of the present town. It was a thriving place with substantial local industries when Crystal Brook was open virgin bush devoted to sheep and cattle, wild dogs and kangaroos. Then it suddenly stopped growing. It has not grown since. Today it plays the role of a proud mother who regards Crystal Brook as a big, strapping son who has far outgrown his homely parent.

Crystal Brook was born in 1873. On March 3 of that year the hundred of Crystal Brook, then still held by the Bowmans under pastoral lease was thrown open for selection as agricultural blocks under the Strangways Act. The upset price was £2 per acre. The area was over 21,000 acres. This was the beginning of settlement in the town. The story was told me of a husband and wife who acquired two sections, They built a house across the boundary line, which ran through the centre of the dining-room. The curious result was that when the pair sat down to dinner the husband was on his own block and the wife on hers. You don't believe that story, did you say? Then I'll give you the names. The house is "Ingliside," and the owners were Mr. Andrew Inglis and his wife.

At this period of the seventies the Pirie railway only came as far as Crystal Brook. It could not go further because there was no bridge by which to cross. The wheat carting was done by bullock teams. The camping place for these carters was at Narridy. The teams brought the grain from as far away as Caltowie, to be shipped at Samuel's Creek. Pirie as a town did not then exist. Crystal Brook was comparatively a city compared with the half dozen houses or so located at the port. The crossing of the creek at Narridy was an exciting adventure. Usually the teams got stuck. Then the "bullockies" pooled their animals, and driving them four abreast, hauled the heavy waggons out.

Officially Crystal Brook came into being in 1882. It was on November 11 of that year that the district council was proclaimed. The first council comprised Messrs. Edwin Prescott (chairman), Philip Henry Claridge, Charles Blythwood Tucker, James Gil bert, and William Carman. Councillor Claridge acted as clerk until the appointment of Mr. E. S. Lillywhite. The present council comprises Messrs. W. W. Robinson (chairman), C. C. Buttfield, A. McDonald, W. J. Lines, James Forgan, P. S. O'Shaughnessy, and P. H, Giles (clerk).

I told you Crystal Brook occupies the site of Crystal Brook station, originally the property of Younghusband and Ferguson. They sold the estate to the three brothers Bowman (John, William, and Thomas) about 1856. This family, who were old hands at the game of sheep raising, found some stiff problems awaiting them when they decided to put sheep and cattle on the newly acquired property.

Struggle Of The Bowmans

The first problem was labor. Australia was in the grip of the gold fever following the discovery of the Victorian diggings. Men were not to be had. The whole province had been drained of its males by the magic lure of gold. When shearing time came round the Bowmans took off their coats, rolled up their sleeves, seized a pair of shears in one hand and a tar pot in another, and set off to do their own shearing. They put through 25,000 sheep. And they did the job better than it would have been done with hired help, for twice a day they drove the sheep through the water to wash the wool before they took it off. Their greatest curse was wild dogs. The country was full of great husky, yelping brutes, which seemed to fear neither God nor man. As I stood in front of the little hut which had been the home of these sturdy pioneers, I could not help recalling how the daring animals used to come yapping round the homestead at night in numbers so great that they had to be chased off with firesticks. Then there were the kangaroos. They were as plentiful as the dogs — and almost as destructive. Looking at Crystal Brook today, picturesque and busy, it is difficult to imagine the country so overrun with the marsupials that they ate almost as much grass as the sheep and cattle. There is one record in existence of a combined hunt by white men and black men in an endeavor to reduce the pests. No fewer than 900 kangaroos were killed in that day. The tally would have been greater had not some of the excited whites started shooting at the animals. The noise of the guns frightened the blacks, who abandoned the chase and fled into the bush. They had a mortal fear of the "white man's fire stick!" Today, probably, you could not find a nigger or a kangaroo within hundreds of miles of Crystal Brook. And, after living in the wilds, away from civilisation, fighting scab, wild dogs, niggers, and kangaroos, the Bowmans got 5d. per 1b. for their wool!

Yet some people call them plutocrats! It seems to me that in this country we've got an up-side-down way of looking at things. The men who go out and do and dare, and tear success out of the most impossible propositions by sheer indomitable courage and determination, fighting drought, disease, discomfort, and danger, are classed as little better than criminals by a section of our people because eventually they reap a reward for their heroic labors. We've got to get rid of that view if we want to become the big nation we ought to be. We've got to realise that it is such men — whether in the pastoral, agricultural, or industrial fields— who make a country, and in doing that they help you and me, and all the other average under dogs who couldn't do a big job if we tried.

In the case of Crystal Brook run they had some frightful droughts. The years 1859, 1866-9, and 1874 scarred the country as it had, perhaps, never been scarred before. A trail of dead sheep and cattle stretched across the wilds. One year 15,000 animals perished, and another 10,000. Today this old station does not exist. In 1873 it was resumed by the Government, and cut up into agricultural blocks. Prosperous farms dot the countryside, and are the backbone of the prosperity which is Crystal Brook. But as late as 1876 herds of 40 to 50 head of cattle roamed the country about Narridy, remnants of the abandoned stock of the Crystal Brook run, and had to be destroyed because, in the general absence of fences in those days, they were a menace to the crops in the dawning days of the agricultural era.

Beetaloo

Adjoining Crystal Brook was another big station — Beetaloo. This was the native name for the springs which now form part of the Beetaloo reservoir system. The station was owned by Reid Brothers (John and Richard), sons of the founder of Gawler. I never come across the name of the Reids without feeling that South Australia has done this family a grave in justice. John Reid the elder established the first northern town. In Coombe's excellent history of Gawler he is only mentioned, incidentally. When he died not a line of biographical matter about him appeared in the newspapers. Similarly, when his son John passed into the great unknown at 86 he did so unhonored and unsung. Why? Heaven knows that less important men, historically, were given yards of eulogy when they made the Great Exit. Modesty is out of date these times. Seemingly it is almost necessary to keep a press agent on the premises.

In the days when Adelaide was mostly scrub, wilder than the Farthest North today, the Reids lived in a tent on the site of Foy & Gibson's present big departmental store. That, presumably, was after they left the Currie street abode, where they cooked their meals in the open air, and before they made that adventurous northern trek which led to the foundation of Gawler Town. But this history has nothing to do with John the elder. It was his son who was the "lord" of Beetaloo. Beetaloo station had an area of 57 square miles on the western slope of the Flinders Range— mostly scrub and spinifex country. The wool was hauled by bullocks to Samuel's Creek (Port Pirie), where the Reids had a shed, and a small plank jetty jutting out into the creek near Solomontown to load it on to a tiny sailing boat which in turn carried it to the ships lying off the creek. John Reid and his son took out the first boat to meet the Euro when that midget steamer made history by being the first to brave the intricacies of Samuel's Creek. I wonder what the ghost of the tiny Euro's skipper has to say today about the wonderful harbor they have made of the "mere gutter" of sixty-odd years ago. I can hear it say, as it scratches its head in amazement, "Well, I'll be damned." I don't think a ship's captain knows any milder epithet.

Just one or two minor personal details about John Reid, junior, before he is allowed to return to that long rest he so well merits. He married Bertha Mitford. The circumstance is worth recording, because Mitford, senior, was that very satirical person age who, writing under the nom-de-plume of "Pasquin," made so many of our early public men squirm by his well-aimed shafts of stinging wit.

The Reids eventually sold their station and went to New South Wales. I don't think they prospered after that. They lost heavily in the sister State, and John returned to South Australia a disappointed man. He lived at Glenelg for many years. He died at Goolwa in 1916, and is buried in the tiny cemetery at Currency Creek. There are still many members of the family in the State. All that exists of Beetaloo today is the name. Such portions of the estate as have escaped being transformed into farming blocks have been turned into the water reserve which perpetuates the old name.

District Of Early Wheat

In the office of the district clerk I chatted with Mr. Mark Weeton. He is a little bit of early Crystal Brook; in fact, he goes back to the time when Narridy was the hub of that portion of the universe, and Crystal Brook still a town to be. It was Mr. Weston who told me the bunyip story, and a few other of the delectable tit-bits which I have included in this article. He has been secretary of the North western show for 28 years, and when he told me that "Mark Weston and north-western were synonymous terms in Crystal Brook," I had no difficulty in believing him. The population of Crystal Brook is 1,400. Its stock sales are noted as the largest outside the city. Few towns can boast of four sales a month, which is the local record. There is a fair amount of dairying on the western side of the district. But the circumstances for which this district is most noted is its early wheat. Crystal Brook is usually gathering its harvest when other places are only thinking about it. In 1915 the harvest was reaped in October. Usually harvesting begins in the first week in November. The old custom of presenting a whip to the farmer who delivers the first load of the new season's wheat is still observed. There is always keen competition for the honor. Which reminds me:— Not a great many years ago a teamster delivered the first load, and gained the coveted trophy. Everybody was amazed at his success— he was so easily ahead of his rivals. It was not until some time after he had been in possession of the prize that the secret came out— the load was grain which had been stored from the previous season.

There is another feature of the country which is worth recording. The Brook is the junction point of four rivers— the Broughton, the Rocky, the Hutt, and the Brook. After uniting they enter the sea at Port Davis, twenty-four miles west. Up at the head works of the water supply the caretaker occupies the old Bowman hut. He is Mr. J. N. Lawson. In his spare time he is an enthusiastic gardener. I saw there flowers and vegetables such as I have never seen before. There were sweet pea plants too high for an ordinary man to reach, covered with massive blooms There were solid-hearted cauliflowers big enough to provide a meal for a Sunday-school picnic, and peas in pods 6 in. long. I stared in astonishment. I had never seen either flowers or vegetables to compare with them. 'Why don't you send them to the Royal Show?' I asked him. He just laughed. I don't know why.

NEXT WEEK PORT AUGUSTA: TOP OF THE GULF