14 July 1932

MYSTERY OF GRAHAMS CASTLE

Haunted Mansion For 6d. A Week

Dudley Park, a suburb of Adelaide, was once the site of a notorious mansion called Graham's Castle. It had the reputation of being haunted, and was the centre of many curious tales.

Graham's Castle.

— South Australia could boast of a castle in the early days. In the forties, when the people lived in tents and mud cabins, and stood at their doors to greet their neighbors from one street to another in Adelaide, a gentleman called Graham came out from England, 'rolling in money.' He vowed he was going to build a castle. He had for companions a gentleman and his wife. The lady was to stay in Adelaide, while her husband went to Victoria to find a home. The 'castle'' was built on the Lower North road, between Prospect and Ovingham. It was a magnificent place. It was a two storied square building of about 30 rooms. The top rooms were built on stone pillars which formed the verandah around the lower parts. The rooms had cedar, panel doors on little wheels, which fitted back in the pillars. It was a splendid house of oak, cedar, stone, and marble. It had two kitchens at the back, one with coppers built in, where they brewed the ale. In the hall was a cedar stairway, and there were two lions' heads for knockers on the hall door. In the dining-room half of one wall at the top was made of glass windows. There were eight doors into the drawing-room, and joining that were two rooms, richly panelled, with doors which slid back into the wall to make one room. One could go on the roof from inside by a flight of stairs and get a good view of Adelaide and away to Port Adelaide. Besides the 'castle,' there was another large two-storied building for the servants, and stables for racehorses and ponies. Only the 'upper servants' slept in the 'castle.' There was a large stone wall, about 10 ft. high, in front of the house, with three large iron gates. One was an entrance for Mr. Graham and the 'gentle folk,' who came in their carriages, down a drive, bordered with lovely roses, and well laid-out gardens. In spite of the display of wealth there was always an air of mystery about the place.

Then one day the lady disappeared, and no trace of her was ever found. People began to say the 'castle' was haunted, 'and that a ghost had been seen at different times. The legend was that while people were sitting at night playing cards in the dining-room, with the glass windows open, a carriage would be heard driving in at the gate, but it would stop before it got to the hall door. A woman would get out dressed in white silk robes, walk up to the glass windows, and look in. She would then vanish. Sometimes the guests would hear her steps going up the large stairs. Mr. Graham did not relish these yarns, which had a wide circulation, and in the end he sold the place and returned to England. A man called Winham bought it, but the 'ghost' appeared just the same, and no servant could be got to stay there. Then one day a servant committed suicide because her lover had jilted her. She poured kerosene over herself and set herself on fire. This occurred upstairs in what they called the 'Blue Room.' After that no one would sleep in the house, and there were two ghosts. Soon after this Mr. Winham sold the house, which next passed into the hands of a land agent to be let. After the place had been empty for some time, some friends of ours lived there, and I went to stay with them. I never saw the 'ghost.' Eventually our friends left because they heard the woman in white walking up the stairs. After this the place was offered for 6d. per week, but no one would live there, for all Adelaide by now knew of the 'ghost.' The mansion was offered to the Government for a hospice, or to anyone who would like to buy it, and finally it was sold, and demolished. The land was resurveyed, and the north train stops there now. They call the place Dudley Park. — E. M. Pahl, Verran.

A Kangaroo Worth Catching.

— This incident occurred about eight years ago, in one of the central districts of Eyre's Peninsula: — Kangaroos were numerous, and did much damage to the wheat crops. Consequently the farmers on Sundays and holidays arranged kangaroo hunts, and invited all and sundry to join.

On this particular day several men from a Government construction camp nearby were in the party. During the afternoon several 'roos' were killed, and finally a half grown one was captured alive. One of the men had a lassoo, which was thrown around the animal's body and tightened up under the 'arms.' The ''roo' was then, more or less, unable to help itself, and the men came around trying to get it to 'box,' and in various ways annoyed it. The animal became tired out, and provided poor sport.

Finally one of the men got the idea of dressing it up In clothes and letting it go. One man contributed a shirt, another a hat, a third a necktie, and a fourth a much worn waistcoat. The kangaroo was be decked with this collection of odd garments and released. It made a beeline for the nearest scrub and disappeared.

About half an hour later, when the party were on their way home, a shout of rage went up from the navvy who was minus his waistcoat. 'Strike me dead!' he howled, 'me money! Two fivers in me inside waistcoat pocket on that bloomin' 'roo!' He turned in his tracks and raced back towards where the 'dressing up' had taken place. The whole party followed, and they hunted for the kangaroo until dark. Although hunts were conducted after that at every available opportunity, that particular animal carrying ten pounds in notes in his inside vest pocket was never seen again. — 'R.V.H.,' Yeelanna.

Strong Man of Clare.

— In the early seventies, there was a man working at the Hill River Station, who went by the name of 'The Greenman.' At the time the station was owned by Mr. C. B. Fisher, the manager was Mr. Emery, and the gardener, Mr. Elliot. It was this Elliot who planted the pinery and the trees along the roadway towards Farrell's Flat.

At this time the main source of Clare's business was derived from the stations, Hill River and Inchiquin, the latter owned by Mr. E. B. Gleeson. One harvest time there were English visitors at the Hill River head station, and the proprietor was showing them the lumpers loading the bullock waggons with wheat. 'The Green man' was carrying, and the 'boss' said 'Put up two,' and he did. He then volunteered to carry three of the big sacks. The visitors were so pleased that they each gave the strong man a sovereign.

One day 'The Greenman' was riding into Clare when Mr. Davies of the brewery (now A. J. Bowleys (Shop) asked for the loan of his horse. 'The Greenman,' said, 'He's no good in harness, but what do you want?' Davies answered, 'This barrel of beer for the hotel.' The Greenman' put his arms around it and carried it across to the pub.

On passing along Armagh he saw some men and a pair of bullocks trying to get a huge log out of the creek. He said, 'Sure, the poor beasts are straining themselves.' Getting into the creek he lifted the log to the top.

The Northern Hotel (now Bentley's) was in Smith's time the gathering place for most bullockys. There was an open run for their teams on the land (now the Clare Oval). At one of these gatherings 'The Greenman' had spent all his substance, and wanted a bottle of gin to take home. He was refused 'tick.' Seeing one of his pals passing with his team, he called out, 'Steve, lend me your leaders?' He fastened the chains one to each of the verandah posts, and called to 'Smith. 'Are you giving me that bottle?' , Smith did some rapid thinking, and as 'The Greenman' returned the borrowed leaders, his hip pocket bulged with a protruding flask. — E. J. Scott, Clare.

Girl's Determination.

— Beside the jetty at Port Lincoln the beautiful ship 'Herzogin Cecile' rode at anchor, her masts and spars reflected in the clear water. The lumpers had finished loading wheat, and she was leaving that night to join in the long race to England. What appeared to be a slim boy with cap pulled well down and smoking a cigarette, was walking slowly along the jetty.

This 'boy' was a girl called Jeannie, whose intention it was to stow away on the ship. She had previously been to a barber's, had her hair Eton cropped, and then, swimming out to sea in her bathers, had dropped her own clothes, wrapped round a stone, into the sea. Then, dressed as a boy, she had set out on her great adventure.

Half-way along the jetty a man stopped her and asked for a match. For a second she feared she had been recognised. Amid the general bustle she managed to slip on board, and into the hold unnoticed. Unluckily the mate went down for something, and, seeing her there, roughly ordered her to leave the ship. At sunset the Herzogin Cecile was out in the bay waiting for the breeze.

About 9 o'clock a fisherman was hauling up his dinghy when a 'boy' came up to him and asked to be rowed out to his boat, as he had over-stayed his leave. The fisherman obliged and rowed to the side of the Herzogin Cecile in the dark. Jeannie climbed a rope hanging from the side, and this time succeeded in getting into the hold unnoticed.

A breeze springing up about midnight, the ship got under way, and Jeannie began her journey. She used to creep out at night and procure food and water. However, the creaking of the ship, the darkness, and the rats got on her nerves, and after three days she walked out on deck. She was taken before the captain and severely reprimanded.

But it was too late to put in anywhere, and so Jeannie stayed the trip and was taken charge of by an aunt in London. Although the sailors thought that a woman on board would bring them bad luck, the Herzogin Cecilie won the race. — 'Seagull,' Port Lincoln.

Stories Of Cottrell.

— Cottrell was an educated Australian native who lived at Hartley. The man who educated him was the late Mr. Murray Cottrell. He lived in a one-roomed shack. One of his friends, John Chinaman, was in the habit of staying with him. On one occasion, the day of the local hunt, when Cottrell returned from the chase, he found John awaiting him. Cottrell's furniture was meagre, and he shared his bed with John. In the morning John said, 'By cli, Cortrell, toe nails velly long.' Seeing that Cottrell had imbibed unwisely but well the day before, and had gone to bed with his hunting spurs on, one can understand John's lament.

On one of Cottrell's birthdays, a kindly neighbor sent her son across in the morning with a leg of mutton. He was all thanks, and immediately set about preparing his feast. His culinary efforts were very slow, and he was still preparing it at lunch hour. So he went without lunch. He had a large camp oven, put the leg in, and filled the rest with thickly peeled potatoes. That night Cottrell had tea— a big tea. Next day when the boy again looked in he found Cottrell in bed, moaning and groaning. On that occasion Cottrell had to have his stomach massaged, and for the rest of the week he didn't trouble to eat at all.

Cottrell was a great believer in quack medicines. Once for a cold he took half a bottle of eucalyptus. He told his neighbor, 'It brought me to my knees, boss.' Cottrell was an expert horseman, rifle shot, and marvellously well versed in the readings of the Bible. He said in those days that each year the seasons would be later. The seasons are now nearly two months later than when he made that prediction. When asked how he knew, he said he could tell by the comets and the stars. — 'Pansy,' Milang.