26 January 1933

'OLD MAC': DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH

Strange Denial Bay Identity

Of the many picturesque characters who flit across the stage of pioneer life, 'Old Mac,' a Denial Bay figure, was one of the best — hard, but kind; grim, but with a relish for a joke; shrewd, but fair. He was a typical son of th' land o' cakes.

One name that will long be associated with the Denial Bay district is that of the late Mr. W. McKenzie. 'Old Mac,' as he was familiarly known, was one of the first settlers.

His holding was in the vicinity of this bay, and his homestead was situated about three miles inland, towards the west. It was mainly through 'Old Mac' getting his stores landed at Denial Bay that it eventually became a busy port.

In the early days, there being no jetty, the merchandise was loaded into small cargo boats, and teams would drive into the water as far as possible and the goods would be trans shipped. 'Old Mac' did most of this work, having built a huge waggon for the purpose which they called 'Big Ben.'

'Old Mac' was a very progressive man. He was practically the leader in all matters pertaining to the welfare of the new district. Nothing was too big or too small for him to undertake. If anything was wanted he would either make or get it. He was one of the foundation members of the Charra, Denial and Murat Bay Agricultural Society, and built the first pavilion for the show practically in one day. It is said that he kept five men busy supplying him with stones and mortar.

Mac's homestead was more like a village. He ran a store, blacksmith shop, post-office, and butchery. Besides he built a hall for school purposes and entertainments, and also the first police station which was located on his land. He always had six to eight hands permanently employed, and at harvest time as many as 15. He owned a dozen strippers, and then would also get his neighbor to help him take off the crop. It was a common sight to see as many as 18 strippers buzzing around his fields. He had a large winnower with horse treadle to work it, but usually worked it with Barney, a large black bull. Sometimes Barney would get the wanderlust and be missing for a few days. A horse would then be used.

No doubt being a Scotchman made Mac very shrewd. One had to get up mighty early to get the best of him. After some years a landing stage was erected at the bay, and a store was opened. The farmers, therefore, thought it would be more convenient to have the post-office there. But Mac was averse to the idea. Thinking the matter over, he saw that the farmers would apply to the postal authorities to open an office in the town. So he put up a building there, and moved his office and the young lady in charge to the bay, where he also opened a store, and so still kept the reins in his hands.

Many tales could be told of 'Old Mac's' deeds. Some of his men worked for him for years. On one occasion, as he was returning home from the bay to dinner, he met a man carrying his swag and tramping the same way. 'Old Mac' asked the man where he was making for.

The man replied, 'I want to get to this old fool of a Mac's place and to try for a job for the harvest.' 'Hop in, me lad,' said Mac, 'I'm going to that devil of a place myself.'

On arriving, 'Old Mac' went into the post-office and the stranger to the blacksmith. Just then the dinner bell rang, and the black smith took the swagman into dinner. Noticing his good Samaritan sitting at the head of the table he asked, 'Whose the rough old bloke at the other end?' 'That's the boss,' said the blacksmith. Swaggie nearly fell off his seat.

After dinner 'Old Mac' came up to the stranger. 'Yer still want that job?' he asked. If yer any good at driving a stripper better put your swag in the men's camp, and I'll give yer a job.' 'Old Mac' walked away chuckling.— 'Coaster,' Denial Bay.

'Jimmy Eat-a-Bit.'

— When I was a lad in the Upper North, a peculiar elderly man used to come along periodically, and sometimes he would have a bit of a swag, but mostly be carrying only a quart pot. I never saw him with a coat, even when the weather was bitterly cold. On one occasion I saw him wearing a pair of trousers made out of hessian.

He was an enormous eater, and was known locally as 'Jimmy Eat-a-Bit.' One occasion he called at our home and said to my sister, 'Could you spare me a bite to eat?' She said, 'Yes, come in.' He ate five big heaped plates of meat and bread, nine large slices of bread and jam, and drank eleven cups of tea. When he had finished he jumped up, picked up his quart pot, and set off at a sort of a jig-jog. I never saw him walk. It was always a sort of run. It was generally supposed that after he had had a meal he would go into the scrub and lay dormant for a few days.

One day a farmer and his family had just sat down to dinner when a knock came to the door. The farmer left his place at the table and opened the door. In rushed old Jimmy, sat down in the farmer's place and started to eat the farmer's dinner. The farmer said to him, 'Where are you going?' Jimmy replied, 'Where I came from.' 'Well, where did you come from?' Said Jimmy, 'Where I am going to.' It is a good many years since I left the north, and I have never heard what happened him. He was an elderly man then. I don't suppose he is alive now.— 'Bush Whacker,' Cunyarie.

The Part The Women Play.

— Years ago West Coast settlers had to manage without medical aid in cases of sickness, for the reason that no doctor was within a hundred or so miles of their lonely homes. Those who lived on the larger stations were especially isolated.

A man was put in charge of the sheep and cattle on a station. With him were his wife and six children. Their nearest neighbor was miles away. One day one of the children became ill and died. After the funeral the husband had to go 40 miles to take part in the shearing. The wife, in his absence, had to attend to the sheep and cattle, taking them to water every day. All went well for several weeks.

Then another child sickened. With fear in her heart the mother had to perform the day's work as well as look after the sick child. As night drew on the child became worse. The woman's plight was pitiful. She dared not leave the child to go for help. It was equally impossible to risk carrying the sick youngster through the night. The other children were not old enough to find their way, unaided to the nearest neighbor.

Towards midnight it became apparent that death was close. The woman took the dying child in her arms where it lay quietly. The night wind sighed and moaned around the little home, and the Angel of Death drew nearer. Said the brave mother. 'Dear God, receive her spirit.' The little child then lay back in her mother's arms and died.

The woman laid the child on her bed, locked the older children in their room, and set off to walk through the night to get assistance. She had to carry the youngest child, a baby a few months old, in her arms. Morning was breaking as she reached the neighbor's home. After hearing the terrible news they said, 'How did you have the strength to go through that experience by yourself?' The courage and bravery of this woman is typical of that shown by pioneer women in all parts of Australia.— 'R.V.H.,' Yeelanna.

Ghost Attended By Doctor.

— Some 30 or 40 years ago there lived between Nairne and Woodside an educated man known as a poet. He had written to the late Queen Victoria, congratulating her on the sixtieth jubilee of her coronation, and had received a reply. This man at times would walk to Woodside, on his way passing the old Presbyterian Church and cemetery.

One evening it had been arranged by some lads to scare him when he was returning from the township. Tramping along the road, in the quiet of the night, he came, swinging his walking stick. He was about to pass the cemetery when a 'ghost' appeared, draped in white. The pedestrian raised his walking stick and gave the ghost such a blow on the head that it had to be attended by the local doctor. — 'Pop-gun,' Tweedvale.

Adventure By The Roadside.

— Last winter a garage proprietor of Jamestown received a telephone call one morning about 2 a.m., asking him to take some petrol to a party of motorists stranded about fifteen miles from the town. The callers gave some such name as Smith or Jones, and said they did not know the name of the owner of the 'phone they were using.

At first the garage man refused to go. He advised the motorists to obtain from some farm enough petrol to take them to Jamestown. But, after an offer of 1/ per mile each way for car hire, and a large order for petrol, he consented to go.

On reaching the car he found three men standing in the road. While filling their tank he was told they were going to Broken Hill, but had lost their way, and run out of petrol. After being directed which way to go, the party got ready to drive off without paying their bill. The garage man reminded them of this, and the voice of a fourth person was heard from the back of the car, 'Put the boots into him.' This the others did not do. But they advised their victim to 'get while the going was good,' and to 'consider the first loss the best.'

Being a wise man, the victim thought discretion the better plan, and did as he was told. He returned to Jamestown, having lost in all about four hours sleep, 10 gallons of petrol, and his sense of humor. It is surmised that the motorists had a telephone outfit of their own in the car and connected it with the line along the main road. — 'The Kangaroo,' Spalding.

Two Fools And A Ghost.

— Many years ago, when Finniss freestone was in the boom, a contractor used to take a short cut across the river to the quarry on a fallen gum tree. Later he took a shortcut into eternity on the same log by leaning over a gun and pressing the trigger with a forked stick. This gave the spot the reputation of being haunted.

A few years after the tragedy two flappers got a big scare while crossing the log late one night, when something uncanny disputed the right-of-way with them and their escort, a hefty son of the soil, who, on seeing the spectre, dropped a bag of stolen apples and fled.

A few nights later an elderly lady put up new figures for an unpaced mile across country.

Then I and my mate went 'possum' shooting near the haunted log. In a sporting spirit we decided to give the ghost a 'go.' With two muzzle-loaders which might have been new in the early forties we lay in wait, about 15 ft. from the log, which still had green branches on the top. The big trees around threw a heavy shadow on the end. We watched. At length something whitish, about 3 ft. long, and nine or ten inches high, seemed to be crawling along the log. We both fired and run away about 100 yards to - not knowing how to handle a dead ghost. Creeping back cautiously, we found the ghost safe enough— the deadest strawberry poddy calf in Finniss. The middle of his spine had been shot away. He had come out of the ferns and rushes on the far side of the log for a drink, perhaps walking on the sandy bed of the creek, and made no noise. The log, being about 2 ft. 9 high, we only saw the top of his back.

Fools? Of course, we were — but anything is a ghost when you are looking for one. If a human being had crossed the log that night he would have been a last minute selection for a charge of 'possum' shot. — 'T.,' Gulnare.

Real Life Stories Of South Australia (1933, January 26). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 16. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article90896193