14 September 1933

PESSIMISTS VIEW OF EARLY ADELAIDE

'Dust, And Sand, And Everlasting Drought'

'The colony will never produce anything.' Visitors to the Royal Show this week, who saw one of the most magnificent displays of agricultural wealth that could be gathered anywhere in the world, will smile at this early view of the State, written nearly a century ago. [c. late 1830's]

I was searching among old family records when I came across the strange epistle— a letter written nearly a hundred years ago, when the young province was struggling against all sorts of obstacles to vindicate itself. The author was a blacksmith. He had come to South Australia with his wife and family in search of fortune.

Instead of finding it, he discovered himself without a job in a wild country where living was dear and uncertain, with a fast diminishing capital. He paid £1 a week for a wooden cottage "which was like a sieve in winter, and a hot house in summer, with bits of calico for windows, and a hole in the roof for a chimney." Here is his view of Adelaide in 183— :—

"... the country is incapable of producing anything; it never will. How can anything grow in dust, and sand, and everlasting drought? There is not a river in the colony." They didn't know, those days, that fifty miles away was one of the biggest rivers in the world. Living was dear. "I have not been able to get work, nor any hopes of any," he complains. "I am reduced to great distress. Bread is 3/ per gallon loaf; potatoes 3/6 per gallon; beef and mutton 1/ per lb.; butter, 3/6; cheese, 2/; porter, 1/6 per quart. Nothing is grown here; everything is brought from Sydney."

The early settlers had a poor opinion of anything Australian. Carpenters and builders were getting 12/ to 13/ a day for "building hovels called houses." The heat was trying. "Carriages fall to pieces before they are finished; if you put on the hoop tyre and have hoops the next day they will be loose, everything being shrunk up by heat and drought. Sand and dust penetrate your beds, food, clothes, and everything else."

A picture is drawn of the citizens of Adelaide as wholesale pessimists. "A cabin passenger of our ship shot himself three days after his arrival. Many people say they are doing well, but there is no bottom to the whole affair. It's a cruel deception on the people of England. Those who are here wish to keep it up, even those who are nearly ruined, well knowing that their existence depends on the early arrival of fresh people whom they may rob, as they have been robbed. One man who bought land in England, and who has a large family is distracted— mad. His land is useless to him; he must sell it to some other wretch. And so it goes on— buying and selling land, and building hovels. Persons who have the means to go away will leave; those who have not will be left to starve."

One would have imagined that in an infant colony blacksmiths would be in great demand. But not a bit of it. "Blacksmiths burn charcoal. There appears to be work but they can't pay a man if they employ one, as he could do but little on account of the heat. The hammers fly off the handles every minute. There is no wood to replace them, and no water without buying it. The charcoal keeps snapping and flying over you while you get your heat. Charcoal is 2/ per bushel, and lasts about an hour."

One might have passed over this letter as a mere curiosity. But it had a sequel. It was widely published in the English papers. It must have done incalculable harm to the colonisation movement. I know the blacksmith regretted haying written it, and would have recalled it if he could. When the papers containing it reached Adelaide there was much indignation.

In the meantime the writer had got work in the country with a forge of his own, and a little cottage with a pretty garden, and had radically changed his views on the prospects of the province. — 'F.F.,' Unley.

Ceremony Of Killing The Pig

In the early days nothing seemed to be complete without a gallon of wine, often two or three gallons, according to funds and numbers. In the small villages among the Mount Lofty Ranges a pig killing was the excuse for a general spree.

Nearly every body kept a pig. It was the pet of the family, and was fed till it was so fat it couldn't stand on its feet. There was a special way of feeding a pig, and everyone had a different recipe for getting his pig fatter than his neighbor's.

But the great day was when the pig was to be killed. They never dreamed of killing two pigs the same day, for the reason that they couldn't have two sprees. When a man decided his pig was fat enough he went round among his neighbors and looked at their pigs from the same litter. If theirs looked fatter he put off killing his. If they were not nearly so fat he gave out invitations for the pig killing.

There was always a man in the village who knew all about sticking the pig. They always had to have him, as no one else knew anything at all about the way a pig should be killed. That was his view of the situation. I never found out what the villagers did when the pig sticker died, but perhaps they gave up keeping pigs. The pig sticker also knew all about drinking wine, so, according to his knowledge, they had to have a gallon or two of wine.

Then there was the man who knew just how hot the water had to be to scald the pig. Of course, he knew all about wine, too. And there were several others who could tell you about the best way to get the snout and hooves clean.

After they had seen the owner of the pig take the wine home all the pig killers of the village rolled up. While the water was boiling they drank the first gallon, visited the pig-stye, and made bets what the pig would weigh. If the water took too long to boil they very often had to send for more wine.

There is a record in one village where the pig sticker made such a poor job of the sticking that the pig got away and ran squealing into the street, and one of the youths who didn't set up as a pig killer at all got a gun and shot it. That was considered a very wrong way to kill a pig, and the youth was looked upon as not knowing his place in the scheme of things.

I have heard another story where they put the pig into almost boiling water, and yet another where the women had to do the job. Nowadays, there is no wine at pig killings, and the work is soon over. The old folk shake their heads and say, "Ah, but they never have to kill pigs the size we used to kill." Well, no; and I really don't think we get as much fun out of simple duties as they did. — 'Auntie Bee,' Ceduna.

Adelaide Customs In The Late Forties

My people came to South Australia in the Kandahar, a sailing vessel. [Candahar 1849.] They were over six months on the journey, which was not very eventful. They did not sight land once. People of all ages wore on board, from old age to babies. A girl of 13 was constantly having a baby put into her arms to mind, so one day she popped him into the flour bin and was never bothered with him again.

Near to Kangaroo Island an absence of wind held them there for days, but when at last the wind sprung up they were soon at Port Adelaide. Then began the trek in a spring cart to the city.

Hindley street at that time was the principal thoroughfare, and there one could find an up-to-date "ladies outfitter." To learn the business, which was thoroughly taught— no machines, everything done by hand— a girl would have to pay a premium and live on the premises. The business hours were: — Mondays till Fridays 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. ; Saturdays, 8 a.m. to 10 p.m., with two public holidays a year: Christmas Day and Good Friday. Rather different from our present day.

Balls were held at Government House and many smart dresses would be made. Ladies' accessories were let out on approval on those occasions, but when it was found that some of the articles would be worn then returned next day, the practice was stopped.

It was during the fifties that a public execution was to take place, and the assistants of this particular establishment were told that they must not attend it. One girl absented herself from business all the week, and it was found that she had been a spectator. She was promptly dismissed.

After business hours Saturday night it was the custom to take home pork sausages from John Marrable's butcher shop. He made a fortune out of them.

Trinity Church was the fashionable place for weddings, with a honeymoon at the "Thatched Tavern'' at Brighton.

A gun fired at midday was the only means then of telling the time, and by that people would set their watches.

A bearded woman as barmaid at the Kent Town Hotel made the place a favorite rendezvous for young men on Sunday afternoons. There was no early closing in those days.

That the seasons have not changed very much is evidenced by the fact that on one 28th. when most of the townspeople had assembled at Glenelg, rain poured down unceasingly, and most of them had to walk back to town drenched to the skin, as very few people had conveyances at that time. A person lost her shoe in the mud in North Adelaide and was days finding it, yet at times hot winds would blow constantly for a fortnight and the only water to be got would have to be bailed from the Torrens near what was known as the Company's Bridge.— ''G.B.G.," Adelaide.

An Overpowering Argument

A man who used to drive from Woodside to Harrogate, had a habit when alone, of holding conversations with an imaginary companion. Not only did he converse upon all kinds of subjects, but at times he worked himself into a rage and argued at the top of his voice!

A friend of mine was near the road side one day when he was surprised to hear tones in angry argument. The man was driving his buggy and pair down the road, and indulging in a heated discussion with a companion who was not there. Talking and shaking his first in the air, the driver came down the road. The angrier he became the further he leaned forward over the front board of the buggy.

With a final flourish of his list as he leaned forward to clinch the argument he lost his balance, and uttering a surprised cry, somersaulted heels over head between the horses and on to the roadway! — 'R.V.H.,' Yeelanna.

Just A Dupe

I was working for my father on our farm, but was not receiving wages. The work was hard. I determined to leave home. I arrived in Adelaide with very little money. I went to an employment agent and asked him to get me a job on a station. He asked me to pay him two shillings by way of deposit. I paid him.

Two days later he told me he had a job for me and if I would give him one shilling and twopence he would send a wire for my fare. He also stated I would receive £1 a week. I gave him one and two pence, making in all three and two pence. He did not tell me where the job was.

Three days passed. I met him again, and he informed me that he would see me off in the morning. He put me in a motor bus and gave directions to the driver. Just before the bus left the agent drew me aside and asked me how much money I had. I turned out my pockets and displayed fivepence-halfpenny. He took five pence to ring my destination.

Only forty miles from Adelaide I was put off the coach. Instead of arriving at a sheep station, I found myself on an ordinary wheat farm with a wage of five shillings. I found that the agent had not wired my employe for a fare, and had not informed him by telephone of the fact that I was on the road.

I was in a worse position than ever. After four weeks' work I came to the conclusion that home was best, and returned. The first man I met on arriving in town was the agent. He had the audacity to ask me to lend him eighteen pence but I was 'broke.'— 'Mercowio,' Croydon.

Real Life Stories Of South Australia (1933, September 14). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 15. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article90956885