No 26 Melrose

For years it has been known as one of the State's most picturesque spots, cradled at the foot of Mount Remarkable, with that gigantic mound rising 3,000 odd feet above it. But historically it is less known than the fate of the lost tribes of Israel. Yet Melrose is full of history when you begin to delve — though I don't mind whispering softly into your ear that it took some delving. If it hadn't been for the whole-hearted assistance rendered me by the chairman of the Port Germein District Council (Councillor J. H. Holman), who came all the way from that seaside ward on the other side of the Flinders Ranges to see that I did justice to the little town which has probably the most picturesque showground in the world, and the district clerk (Mr. E. Foot),the real romance of Melrose might have remained hidden for another generation or two. And while I am handing out bouquets before I begin the real tale of Melrose there is quite a small army of helpers to be thanked for information received: — Messrs. G. P. Yates and W. J. S. Jacka, veritable encyclopaedias of knowledge of the early days; S. Stone, T. Miller, H. N. J. McHugh, W. J. Holdland, C. O. Graham, Mrs. T. B. Robinson, and Miss Williams. All have contributed more or less the facts which go to the making of the whole.

Birth Of Melrose

I cannot tell you definitely what date Melrose came into existence. It never started as a settlement in the orthodox way. It just set out originally to be nothing at all, and woke up suddenly one day to find itself a busy town. I don't think it has re covered from the surprise to this day. These are the circumstances: —

Many years ago— I think it was some time in the fifties, but I have not been able to discover the date— the pastoralists becoming more and more daring, began pushing out north. I have told you in previous articles just what sort of dangers they had to encounter, especially from the aborigines. Every time a murder was committed, or even some other serious crime, police had to be sent up from Adelaide, or perhaps from Bungaree. It took days to get an "S.O.S." to the city, and more days to get a couple of policemen to the scene of the trouble. By the time they got there the culprits were usually miles away in their mountain fastnesses, and the work of tracking them down and bringing them to justice was hard and dangerous.

Eventually it was decided to establish a police post in the farthest north, right beyond the boundaries of civilisation. The foot of Mount Remarkable, South Australia's eminence of 3,178 feet, which Eyre had discovered in 1839. was selected for the purpose. A couple of disgruntled troopers were dispatched to this lonely spot to lead a miserable existence. But they re presented the law — and the law bred confidence. The pioneers pushed out further, and their women and children were left at the mount under the protection of the police. In the course of a year or two a little settlement had grown up around the police paddocks, attracted there by the se curity afforded by the men in blue.

That briefly, was the beginning of Melrose. The rest was just natural growth and progress.

Thrown on their own resources the Mount Remarkable troopers exercised an authority far wider than their confreres nearer the city. Their "beat" extended to the back of beyond— and even further. In the formal, prosaic journals of the day, some of which are still housed, musty with age, in the archives of the local station, you may read records of journeys covering hundreds of miles — away to Tarcoola in the north-west, and to Lord knows where in the north. It was common for a trooper to be absent on a three months' trek. In those days, of course, Port Augusta did not exist, even as a name, and the Mount Remarkable police exercised jurisdiction over the whole of the northern country.

The fact that they were the representatives of the law in the then farthest outpost of civilisation invested them with great importance in the eyes of the little community. That feeling of respect has existed down to the present day. The police station at Melrose is still the most important building in the town. It bears the date 1862. It Is reasonable to assume that it replaced an earlier structure, but I have no definite information on the point.

It was told that Tom Williams was the first policeman in Melrose. I can only give the fact as hearsay. I was unable to confirm it. The police officer who was in charge at the time of the Mount Brown murder the story of which I gave you in the article on Quorn, was Paddy Moran, who was sent out to superintend the capture of the natives responsible for the outrage. That also is hearsay.

Practically, the greater part of what is now the town of Melrose was in the earliest days police property. It was known as the police paddock. The settlers used to watch the troopers undergoing riding and revolver practice there— for the "bobbies" of the early sixties had to be efficient in both these branches of their work. Often their lives depended on them. Eventually the "paddock" was cut up for closer settlement at the request of the settlers. What still remains, however, is a fairly substantial block. The present officer in charge is Mr. W. Brewster.

Survey Of The Town

But the history of Melrose goes back even farther than the establishment of the police post. To start at the beginning, it is necessary to plunge into 1853, when, so far as I can discover, the original section was taken up as a sheep station by John Ellis, of Port Gawler (founder of Buckland Park), and Joseph Gilbert, of Pewsey Vale. Ellis, a retired naval man, spoke eleven languages, including Chinese— not taking into account the special linguistic attainments then required in the management of bullocks. I should not imagine, however, that a retired naval officer lacked that qualification.

Ellis was an interesting personality. He was the purchaser of portion of the "Milner estate," at Port Gawler, the transaction was responsible for the cause celebre involving an early crop of libel actions, in which the "Register" and George Milner Stephen were the principal parties, Stephen then being Advocate-General. I told that remarkable story at the beginning of the year, and there is no need to repeat it.

From then onwards, up to a comparatively recent date, the history of Melrose was largely pastoral. The station properties changed hands several times until John Howard Angas, whose story was told in the Wilmington article last week, appeared on the scene. He acquired big holdings in the vicinity of Melrose, and these, as will be related later, became the famous Willowie station.

Meanwhile settlement was increasing around Melrose. The settlers began an agitation for the right to manage their own affairs. In the middle eighties Thomas Nott was ordered to survey a town. In 1888 the first district council was brought into existence, and held the inaugural meeting in the North Star Hotel. It comprised J. Milne (chairman), G. Stone, I. Saunders, J. Bews. L. O'Loghlin, G. Mahood, B. T. Williams, and F. J.Whitby. The latter acted as clerk, pro tem, until the following meeting, when A. W. F. Ey was appointed district clerk.

Nott street is named after Thomas Nott, the man who surveyed the town. He retired from the service on the completion of the work, and is buried in Melrose cemetery. His eldest daughter was the first white girl born in Melrose, in a little cottage near the entrance to Jacka's brewery. On account of this historic circumstance Mr. Jacka has allowed the cottage to remain, in spite of its inconvenient location — and I take off my hat to him for it. Several of Mr. Nott's grandchildren still live in Melrose.

Seeing that Melrose is the centre of the district council which covers the extensive area of 750 square miles, or over half a million acres, I tried to discover why it was called the Port Germein council. Port Germein is nearly 30 miles away, on the other side of the Flinders Ranges. The local explanation was that before the railway was built Germein was the outlet for the produce of the entire district. There are 2,000 miles of district roads and 160 miles of main roads within the council boundary. Not exactly a "cuishy" job looking after that mile age.

Story Of Separation Creek

A few miles westward of Melrose is some picturesque and rugged country, hilly, and well-timbered, with caves and gorges, and a supply of water. This is Separation Creek. It is the property of Mr. W. J. S. Jacka. How it got its name is a tragic and interesting story of pioneer times. In the earliest days of South Australian history, Charles Christian Dutton was rather a prominent man in the little community, which then comprised the city of Adelaide. He was sheriff in 1838, and in the same year was a member of a board appointed to "report on brickmaking and quarrying in the park lands." Somewhere about the dawn of the forties he went to the West Coast, and began cattle farming in the vicinity of Port Lincoln. Living in a beehive would be a comfortable affair in com parison with the conditions under which the Port Lincoln settlers existed in those days. A man never knew when he got up in the morning whether he would be alive to go to bed at night. If he left his home for a few hours he was not certain that he would find it there when he returned.

The reason for these things was the hostility of the blacks. I do not suppose that in any part of South Australia were they as wild and as treacherous as they were on the West Coast. The people, even in the town, lived in a state of continual panic. The stone wall round the gaol was kept as a sort of fortress, to which the residents could retire in the event of a native raid. The pastoralists, necessarily more isolated, were in an infinitely worse plight.

When I come to deal with the West Coast I will tell you some bloodcurdling tales of murder and pillage thrilling enough to give you a nightmare for a month. Just now I am only concerned with the particular story of C. C. Dutton, and that only so far as it affects the naming of Separation Creek.

With his cattle being stolen, and neighboring settlers and shepherds being murdered by the blood-lusty warriors of the bush, Dutton found the situation impossible. He decided to abandon the station. On June 20, 1842, he set out for Adelaide, intending to travel overland through hostile country around the head of Spencer Gulf. He took with him a small party of men, his cattle, a dray, and horses. His friends in Adelaide had been advised of his departure, and waited anxiously for his appearance.

Three months passed. There was no sign of Mr. Dutton. He was never heard of again.

Meanwhile anxiety for the overlanders increased in the city. Finally Inspector Tolmer, the noted police officer, received instructions to head a small party to search for the missing men. At Bungaree Station they were joined by a volunteer squad, composed of William Peters, James Baker, and Charles and James Hawker.

The task of finding a handful of men in the trackless bush, in country which had previously been traversed by only one white man (Eyre), was well nigh impossible. Nevertheless, they made good time. It was on the second day out from Bungaree that Tolmer saw some white kangaroos, '"a rarity," he wrote. "I have never since met with in the colony." He also observed that the Gulnare Plain was badly infested with snakes. For that matter it still is. I dispatched a beautiful "six-footer" there myself the other day.

There were some remarkable features about that journey which are worth recording. One of them was the failure of the party to get into touch with the blacks. Obviously their duskinesses knew more about the police than the police knew about them, for the officers saw signal fires springing up all about them, in some instances only a few yards away, but never a native. So far everything had gone well withthe searchers, and the third evening out from Bungaree they camped on the rugged property which now be longs to Mr. Jacka. That night Tolmer was surprised when the volunteer searchers lit a separate fire some little distance from the police camp. As the natives in the vicinity bore a bad reputation the leader sent a messenger to the volunteers suggesting that it might be safer for all if the volunteers came over to the police camp. The message he got back astonished him. It was to the effect that in future the volunteers intended to camp by themselves, and to conduct the search in their own way, independent of his leadership.

It is no part of my job to comment on the controversy which developed out of that incident. The upshot of it was that Tolmer left the police party to continue the search in command of Corporal Rose, and returned to Adelaide. A few days later Eyre was sent out with another search party, taking Tolmer with him as second in command.

The fate of Dutton was never satisfactorily cleared up. Years afterwards some blacks stated that the whole party had been plundered and murdered. When Eyre's expedition got to Port Lincoln they found that some 24 head of Dutton's cattle had, of their own accord, wandered back to the old station. Nearly a quarter of a century later human bones and a riding whip were found some miles south of Lake Torrens, and identified as the property of Dutton. Dutton's Bluff now marks the approximate site of the massacre.

Because of that unhappy incident between Tolmer and his companions the name, Separation Creek, was bestowed on the scene of the quarrel. It bears it to this day.

"Mick" Devlin

Recently my colleague "Rufus" made some interesting observations on the late "Mick" Devlin. "Mick'"was a Melrose product— one of the most dare-devil bushmen who ever looked an equine outlaw coldly in the eye. The horse was not born that "Mick'"could not ride. He gained his experience on stations in the far north, breaking in colts and droving. He took to riding like an ant takes to sugar, and any neddy which couldn't loop the loop more times than you could say "zeugledontidae" in succession was not a horse within the meaning of the Act so far as Mick was concerned, but only a "wooden" steed fit for a merrygo round. The horses "Mick" rode were of the greased lightning type, which were never still long enough for you to determine where their heads began and their tails ended. They were the nearest things to perpetual motion the world has so far produced. Yet "Mick" was only a small man, spare and wirey, with iron-grey beard, and eyes which swept you kindly but appraisingly.

Every bushman worthy of the name knew "Mick," and I do not believe there was one who wished him anything but well. He had the distinction of being the first man to bring a mob of cattle overland from Western Australia. He was 76 when he did his last droving job. Then he settled down on a farm belonging to his sister (Mrs. Wade) on the Doughboy Creek, between Melrose and Murraytown.

His end about a year ago was sad —and rather remarkable. One day his sister went into the paddock to call her son, who was ploughing. She sat on a log to rest, and when the son came over he found his mother dead. "Mick" went into the township to ring up the police. He had just delivered his tragic message when he, too, fell dead.

The Old Cemetery

In front of the police station in Stuart street there is an old cemetery. You would never know it was there unless your attention was drawn to it. Even then you might be inclined to doubt the fact. There is not a tombstone to be seen — nothing but a few trees in a paddock that might be anybody's cow run. Yet it houses all that is mortal of some fifty northern pioneers who passed into the Vale of Shades between 1854 and 1869. It is not consecrated ground. The first man buried there was Dr. Sybald, of Clare. It was not consecrated because in the early days people were usually buried where they died. The first body interred formed the nucleus of a burying ground. All who died in the vicinity subsequently were generally buried at the same spot. The north is liberally sprinkled with these unofficial cemeteries — and in a number of cases there is no reminder today that they ever existed. The ground at Melrose has been turned into a plantation. Some day, perhaps, the residents will put up a general monument to the unknown dead who sleep there, for after all they were the men and women who braved the wilds, and gave us the heritage we enjoy to day. The old burial ground was formally closed in 1870.

Moorhouse Of Barta Gunya

Three miles south-west of Melrose lies Barta Gunya. For many years its 6,000 acres was the estate of Dr. Matthew Moorhouse, one of the most striking personalities of pioneer days, and his partner— Le Strange. Moorhouse, who died in 1876, is buried in the Melrose Cemetery. Fairly tall, of medium build, with a grey beard, and fair complexion, he was the squire of Melrose, in the sense that for years he was at the head of every important movement in the town. The old people still speak of him as a man of a wonderfully kind disposition. His character is fairly summed up in the epitaph on his tombstone: —

He hated falsehood's mean disguise,

And loved the thing that's just;

His honor in his action lies,

And here remains his dust.

Rather a remarkable career, this old gentleman. I will tell you a great deal more about him when we get to Saddleworth, a week or two hence. It was there he started his pastoral career when he gave up his job in the civil service.

"St. George's Folly"

Six miles south of Melrose is a big house with a history. Properly it is called "Rosslyn House." More often than not it is given locally the appellation of "St. George's Folly." It is over half a century old, and was erected by a reputedly well-to-do Englishman named St. George. I could not find out why it had been dubbed a "folly." Perhaps it was because, in a pioneer country, where conditions were primitive and comforts scarce, St. George employed expensive and elaborate fittings of solid cedar in the construction of his home. So far as I could ascertain the history of St. George, he was an English brewer, who made a lot of money in the old country, and came to Australia when he retired. He went to the Mt. Remarkable district, and built and ran the North Star Hotel, the first public house in the town, and the forerunner of the present hotel of the same name. St. George's Hotel, however, was a mere shanty of daub and pine, a portion of which is still standing.

After a few years in business he sold the hotel and took up land in the vicinity of Melrose, at a place known today as St. George's Knob. It was then he built "Rosslyn House," a mansion he was never destined to inhabit. He was killed soon after the building was completed, while carting the second load of furniture for it from Adelaide.

Another version of his death is that he hanged himself in an outbuilding, and the place was thereafter known as the haunted house. This, however, is untrue.

St. George was one of the trustees of the local Church of England. After his death his wife returned to the United Kingdom. The property was sold, and eventually it formed part of a scheme for soldier settlement. I think the present owner of the residence is Mr. E. P. P. Amon, a returned soldier, but the place has been long since stripped of its elaborate fittings. The property on which St. George's Knob stands is occupied by Mr. S. Raynor, and is used as grazing country.

"Little Hell"

Another interesting piece of local nomenclature is "Little Hell." It is nine miles south of Melrose, on the road to Port Germain. Little Hell is a short cut through the Flinders Ranges, and was so named because of the extraordinary difficulty in crossing the range. From what I could learn of this piece of rough country it is one of the "short cuts" which, in the end, prove to be the longest way round— unless you the agility of a mountain goat, and the stamina of a '"Pacific'" engine.

Writing about stamina reminds me that Melrose has put its soldiers' memorial high up on Mount Remarkable, where it stands out prominently against the dark background of the huge mound. It can be seen from miles away. I was told the labor of getting the stone up there to build it was stupendous. I can well believe it. You see, I have had personal experience of that climb.

My guides invited me to a close inspection of the monument. I glanced apprehensively at the towering height, and timidly ventured the opinion that I would take it for granted. I have never aspired to become a mountaineer. But my friends, Mr. Holman and Mr. Foot, seemed so disappointed at being deprived of their usual morning's exercise, that I had not the heart to persist in my refusal. I have often suffered from shortness of cash, but never so much from shortness of breath as I did on that occasion. If you had asked me what the grade was, I would unhesitatingly have told you two in one. By the time I was half-way up my handkerchief was like a floor cloth, and I was panting like the exhaust of a motor bike with the silencer removed. I got there in the end — but I vowed to begin an agitation for the provision of an electric lift before my next visit to Melrose.

Some Pioneer Facts

When J. H. Angas took up the station property which I mentioned earlier, he called it Willowie. But there was also a township of Willowie, and the two names led to confusion. So Angas rechristened the station Mount Remarkable. It bore that name for years, until the owner, reducing his responsibilities as the weight of the years began to tell, disposed of it to a company. Thus the Willowie Pastoral Company came into being. Its boundaries extended to Wilmington in the north, to the gulf in the west, to Coomooroo Hill in the east, and to Bangor in the south. It commonly shore 100,000 sheep.

The first public school was kept by Walter Earle. One of his old students described him to me as a slight chap with a ginger beard, and a very severe outlook on life. He used to eat charcoal biscuits. He "would grab you bythe back of the neck, and wallop you with a stick." Mr. Earle sounded to me like something between a mother-in- law and an army drill sergeant. I should have mentioned this school was conducted in the old institute building. An early private school was conducted by a Miss Reed, in a pine building a little to the west of the Catholic Church. She taught both sexes. It is probable that the school of Mrs. Enoch, a pine and pug building on the Main North road, which is not now in existence, preceded both the institutions mentioned.

"Lambing Down"

The first white family to come as far north as Melrose (170 miles) was that of Harry Bacon, who kept an eating house near Wilmington. From the earliest times Melrose was interested in brewing. A particular spring of water was responsible for this. The first brewery was established bv Guilford Grey in the creek below the present Melrose brewery. He was succeeded by a man named Robinson. Jacka's brewery started at Auburn, and was later removed to Melrose, and established on a site north of the present building. At that time the factory of today was an old mill. When it went out of commission Jacka's purchased and converted it.

The original blacksmith was Tom Spratt. It is over seventy years since Mrs. Searle opened the first store. She made a lot of money there, gave the land on which the Church of England stands, and took her children to the old country to be educated. Her store stood on what is now the main entrance to the brewery. It was pulled down about forty years ago to make room for the roadway to what was then Gates and Smith's mill.

The first boy born in Melrose was C. H. Yates. The first girl was Mrs. Wellington (Miss Nott). The oldest born resident still living is Mrs. S. A. Jacka, who dates from 1859. In the days before Port Augusta existed Melrose was the "lambing down" place of the Far North. I sup pose you know what "lambing down'" was? A most exciting bit of business, I can assure you, though I never tried it myself. It consisted of working hard all the year on an outback station, then getting your cheque, and busting it up in beer and blasphemy during a "jag" which lasted a fortnight or more. Then, wiser and sadder, you returned back to work, vowing you would never do it again. But you did — the very next time you got the opportunity.

Melrose as a town is a busy place. But its growth is handicapped by the hilly nature of the country. Somehow the locality got mislaid. Orignally the town was to have been at Bangor, twelve miles south. Why or how this idea was departed from nobody seems to know.

Willowie Homestead

I have already told you that John Howard Angas held most of this country in the early days. There were no fences in the pastoral country then. The flocks were kept together by shepherds who had huts at isolated posts. In the case of Mount Remarkable run these were Bottom Hut, Middle Hut, Moflgala, the Glue Pot, Bark Hut, Nugent's Hut, and one at Separation Creek, the name of which my informant could not recall. There were, of course, other huts, but I could not ascertain the names. Each shepherd looked after approximately 1,000 sheep. At this period the blacks were not as troublesome as they had been earlier, a system of rationing having taught our dark confreres that it was easier to beg than to steal. Black brother was an adept at taking the easiest way. The greatest bugbear of the shepherds in the time of Angas was the dingo.

The old Angas homestead on what was formerly Willowie station still stands. It is occupied by Mr. C. O. Graham. Located three miles to the north of the town, on the Willochra Creek, it is a delightfully scenic spot. There are some old gums that do your eyes good to look at. The trunk of one old monarch is 30 feet in diameter. I am almost afraid to mention the fact, lest the gloating eye of a postal official should light on the information. I know he would run a telephone line across the paddock for the mere lust of destroying the arboreal veteran.

The substantial shearing shed of Angas days, with its stand for forty shearers, is still intact. The keystone bears the initials and date, "J.H.A., 1874," and also the initials of the manager, "F.J.W." After the war Willowie was purchased by the Government for use as a training farm for returned soldiers. The place was elaborately fitted up, regardless of expense, in true Government fashion. The married trainees were housed in two settlements, with up-to-date drainage and electric light ing. In 1920 the Government disposed of the estate. The training farm was allotted to returned soldiers. Only a few of them are on the land today. I would like to know what that period of training cost — but I don't suppose I ever will.

NEXT WEEK Wirrabara: Where They Make Forests.

Images:

• Post Office (left) and Police Station at Melrose in 1876. The open space in front is the old burying ground of the north, which was never conse crated. Its story is told in the accompanying article. Courtesy of the Archives