21 April 1932

'Chronicle' Competition Begins

Below are printed the opening series of real life stories sent in for the 'Most Interesting Town' competition. The response has been most gratifying. Such stories as are deemed suitable will be published from week to week until the supply is exhausted, after which the awards will be announced :

Amateur Doctor's Skill.

— When working on a road contract within a few miles of Penola, in the late 60's or early 70's, a camp of navvies was supplied by the local butcher with some tough meat. One of the men said it must have been the product of a "near side poler," for he could feel the marks of the "whip strands" when chewing it. At tea a member of the company, named "David," took a piece of the meat. Placing one end between his teeth, he said— "This is the best way to deal with it." Drawing a newly sharpened knife upwards, he held the protruding portion of the meat in his left hand. The edge of the cutlery was keener than he thought, and slipping quickly through the meat, it took the greater part of his nose with it. leaving the severed portion hanging by a piece of skin. "Bill" Lee, a noted character who worked on road and drain contracts, took in the situation at a glance. Seeing nearby the tin in which the day's bread, or rather dough, had been worked, he scraped a portion of the still wet mixture from the sides, made it into a plaster set the nose in its place, and bound it in position with a piece of rag. "David" was hurriedly conveyed to Penola, where Dr. Breton was then practising. On examining the patient, he asked, "Who attended to this?" and when told he remarked, "Well, he made as good a job of it as I could have done." The doctor washed the blood from the damaged organ, but left Lee's plaster intact. Years afterwards the mark was only discernible on close inspection. — Tanta Tyga, Millicent.

How American River Got Its Name.

— Every summer brings to American River many tourists, and many will doubtless be surprised to hear of the important part this quiet little settlement played in the early history of the State. American River is one of the prettiest and most misnamed spots in South Australia. In 1802 Captain Flinders was there. He named the inlet Pelican Lagoon. From the top of Mount Tisby (Prospect Hill) he first sighted Mount Lofty. Between 1802 and 1812 an American schooner, "Union," under Captain James Pendleton, put in at Pelican Lagoon and built the "Independence," the first South Australian built ship. Then he sailed to Sydney, but the name "American River" clung to the inlet, where his vessel had anchored. The slip the sailors used remained for many years after. In the early days many ketches put in at American River for salt. This salt used to be sold in Sydney for £10 a ton more than that imported from England.

Truccanini, one of the last of the Tasmanian blacks, was buried among the sand hills near American River, and the last survivors of her tribe were buried at Stokes Bay in 1887. Early settlers to American River had to suffer many hardships. Ketches called every six months with provisions, and most of the flour had to be ground by hand. Wallaby liver was used for bread, and its skin provided shoes. 'Possums formed the chief part of the menu, and had to be buried for two or three days after killing to take away the strong taste. Among the earlier settlers was John Buick, whose descendants are still at American River. He had working for him a Chinese, who was extremely annoyed by pigs, and being afraid to destroy them by any means which might cast suspicion upon him, gathered sea sponges end mixed them with the pigs' food. As the sponges became damp they would expand and so choke the pigs, which died. This cunning Chinese lies in an unmarked grave not far from the American River jetty. An apricot and apple tree standing alone in the corner of a field are still known as "Chinaman's Garden." — Wynnie J. Hughes, American River.

Gawler Humbug Society.

— Wit and wisdom scintillated in Gawler's early days. It reached its height in 1859 with the inspirational formation of the Humbug Society. Created as a satirical rival association to Freemasons and friendly bodies, the society became famous, establishing its own press, "The Bunyip" of today, and electing its members to Parliament. The three head officers — the Arch Flam, the Bouncible Bam, and the Surprising Sham— were appointed without being consulted, for the object was to humbug everybody as much as possible. Members joined in multitudes, the affidavit being administered on an empty ginger beer bottle, as the appropriate symbol of humbug, reminding all of froth and fourpence. The Arch Flam was invested with a hempen rope, knotted artistically under the left ear, the Bouncible Bam was also roped, but without the knot, and the Surprising Sham was the keeper of the ginger beer bottle, and wore the nightcap of dignity. All Humbugs sat with heads covered, and any uncovering without the legitimate purpose of scratching, was deemed an offence for which a penalty was inflicted. Meetings were impromptu, and sometimes consequential personages would attend and smile patronisingly on proceedings, only unconsciously to offer opportunity for the Bam dexterously to draw the bottle across their lips and declare them admitted. Anger was absurd and protestation useless — they were doomed to be addressed "Brother" ever after. Although sending a member to Parliament was against the society's rules, it was contended that legal and Parliamentary humbugs continually violated laws they had assisted to make. The Arch Flam (Mr. E. L. Grundy) was put up for the Barossa district. He was returned with flying colors. The victory, known late at night, set the town wild with excitement. Men cheered lustily. The loud tolling of Martin's factory bell, and the shrill shrieks of the mills' whistles, caused quiet folk to rush from their beds, believing these was a fire; and farmers came from miles away to make the same enquiry. Humbug had triumphed. — L. H. Duncan, Blanche street, Gawler East.

Hidden Nugget of Forest Range.

— When cheery fires mock the westerly winds that come blustering over the ranges, many a story is related by the old folks of their struggles against adversity in the early days. One of the most popular is a legend, handed down for three generations, of a huge nugget that was found and hidden on the Stoney Creek diggings in the locality now known as "Forest Range." Stoney Creek in those days consisted of a rough bush hotel (the ruins which still stand on the property of Mr. H. Baum), and a few splitters' huts, built in the recesses of the forest. On the discovery of gold in the early 'sixties, there was a rush to the locality. Many diggers got payable gold. But the largest nugget was found by a black fellow, who, according to the law, was not allowed to keep it. So, after night had fallen, he removed the treasure to a safe place. Tradition has it that he deposited his find in a hole beside one of the huge trees that grew near the ford, afterwards removing all traces of the hiding place. Through some other members of his tribe the story of his find reached the ears of the miners, who commenced a feverish search. Every tree, large and small, in the vicinity of the ford was grubbed out. In the years that followed, wood cutters took away the fallen trees. But the huge, hand-grubbed stumps remain to bear out the authenticity of the story. The hiding place of the nugget was never discovered. It is still there, awaiting the day when some lucky person, tilling the soil or sinking a posthole, with thoughts far removed from hidden treasure, will accidentally stumble on a small fortune. — S. Barrand, Forest Range.

Massacre Of Natives.

— In the years 1860-70, the natives around Waterloo Bay (now Pt. Elliston), were very troublesome. Many of the early settlers were cruelly murdered. The last murder committed by the blacks was of an old man called Hamp. Whilst Mr. Hamp's two sons were out shepherding, the natives came to the hut, killed the father, cut off his head, and fingers, and placed them in the camp oven. They left the body lying outside. When the sons returned the father was not about. Thinking he had gone for a walk, they went to the oven to get some meat and were horrified to find their father's head. The cold-blooded nature of the killing roused the anger of the settlers, and they decided to teach the blacks a lesson. Getting their horses, and arming themselves with rifles, they drove the native men over the cliffs at Waterloo Bay. About 500 aboriginals perished. The native women and children were left alone, but the men had either to go over the cliffs or be shot. Only one man escaped. After this terrible lesson, the natives seemed more friendly, and finally they showed the whites where to find the fresh springs in the salt lake. — Mrs. H. Phillips, Elliston.

There is increasing evidence today that the "massacre" is largely a myth. See this link to Google Books. - Ed

Story Of A Slate Slab.

— I was born In Angaston, and though only a young girl when the event recorded happened, I remember the sensation it caused. It was sixty or more years ago. In those days, many of the graves in the little cemetery were enclosed in a kind of primitive mausoleum— a long brick chamber, the walls a few feet high and covered with a thick slate slab. On this slab the name of the deceased, the date of death, and any valedictory comments' of the bereaved relatives were inscribed. One day the news flew through the township that the covering elate slab had been removed from the grave of a Mrs. M., leaving the burial mound exposed to view and to the weather. No one could conceive who was the perpetrator of this act of desecration. Months passed, and neither the perpetrator nor the stone was discovered. By degrees the townspeople forgot the matter. The widower of Mrs. M. lived a mile or two from the township. Outside the gate was a deep gutter, which, in winter time, was difficult to cross, being full of water, and the sides muddy and slippery. This was eventually covered with a long wide stone. Who first suggested the idea I do not know, but it was soon whispered abroad that the stone looked uncommonly like one of the slabs used in the cemetery for covering the graves. Finally It was turned over by some inquisitive people, and found to be the burial slate from Mrs. M's grave. How it came to serve as a footway in front of the widower's house is a point debated to this day. — "Angaston."