18 January 1934

LOOKING BACKWARDS 

About Early Clarendon

Many new facts worthy of preservation in the historical archives are revealed in this contribution from an old resident of the Clarendon district, who appears to have a good memory and a fund of information.

My father, and the father of Mr. H. Smart, were living in Kangarilla and Dashwood's Gully in 1842, before Clarendon was even a sheep station. The Station started about 1845. Mr. Grant was the shepherd. He lived in a hut that he built about a mile west of the present hotel. That is why it is called Grant's Gully today. 

South-west of this gully in another gully called Spencers, Mr. Spencer used to go to Adelaide once a week with dairy produce and bring back household goods. Mr. Joe Hardy lived there. He was the first district council clerk. Abel Docker also lived there. He was the first constable in Clarendon. 

Paul James Chapman was an auctioneer (he built the two-storied house on the side of the hill at the bottom end of Grant's Gully). Mr. E. Mitchell's grandfather built the Royal Oak Hotel before the main road was surveyed. The police court and station were built in 1868 by a contractor from Willunga named Sara, who lived to be 100 years old. 

The post and telegraph office was built in 1879 on the front of the late Mr. T. Shipway's house. Mr. Shipway was a blacksmith. The store opposite, now run by H. J. Niall, was part built by J. F. Cook, father and grandfather of Cook, Son & Co., of Hindley street, Adelaide. He first kept a store in a thatched cottage at the back, and his sign was 'J. F. Cook & Co.' 

The institute was the Oddfellows' and Foresters' Hall. The foundation of it was laid on December 25, 1872. The building opposite was erected by Mr. Seth Hart. He was the first storekeeper and the first person buried in the local cemetery. When he gave up business Mr. T. Fox took it. He was one of those who drove two horses and a cab to Adelaide every week. I remember going to Adelaide twice in 1863 in the cab. Turner's Gully road was then used. Turner's Gully was named after Mr. Robert Turner, who was one of the first settlers. He kept a vineyard and sold wine. 

Mr. Fox was the manufacturer of a famous prize baking powder I made many a ton of it, and could still make it if there was any use for it. Fox kept the first post office as far as we know, and had it till the present office was built. The two-storey building where Mr. Dingle lives was built by Mr. Daley, the school teacher, about 1867. He first kept school in a thatched cottage at the back of the present building. His son, Samuel, and Mr. Fox used to take photographs. 

The native girl, Princess Amelia, reared up by Mr. Daley, was a granddaughter of King Tandanyah, the last King of the Adelaide natives tribe. When the princess left Mr. Daley she did not go back to her tribe, as stated in 'The Chronicle.' She went to Moonta, where she married a white man, and died there in 1929. It was another native girl that Mr. Daley reared up as a companion for Amelia that went back to her tribe. She married a curly-headed native named Peter, and died in the mission station. 

The Clarendon bridge (1858) was built by a Mr. Horner, who lived at Mount Bold, where Mr. Windibank lives. He was a contractor and bridge builder for the Government. The wall was built of stone. The top was four wooden arches with timber decking covered with metal. This timber was removed in 1875 and renewed with fresh timber. The bridge was again reconstructed in 1919. The original old wall is covered with 18 in. of concrete, with two concrete arches and decking. Henry Paddick was the first blacksmith. He had his shop and house on the bank of the river, near the recreation ground. His daughter (the late Mrs. Caleb Mitchell) used to row people across the river in a boat before the bridge was built. The first main road from Kangarilla to Adelaide went over the creek, where a bridge was built in the early forties by Kangarilla people, close by the west side of the big willow tree in the corner of the Rechabite ground. Then it went straight up the hill at the back of the Clarendon Hospital This was the main road for Clarendon also for several years. It was called Stones' Hill. Mr. Stone lived in a thatched cottage, where Mrs. Munday now lives, and some of the wall is still standing. 

Mr. Edward Burgess hunted shepherd Grant off his land after he had been there for a few months. Mr. Burgess used to take the people from the south side of the river across to church and Sunday school every Sunday, with two bullocks and a dray when the water was running down the river. Mr. Sam Bilney, who was 95 last April, and now lives at Clarendon, arrived at Kangarilla in the ship Duke of Wellington in 1849, and until ten years ago was one of the best-known teamsters in the south. — E. Dunmill, Baker's Gully.

In The Early Days

Here are two incidents showing the fear of lawlessness which existed among the settlers in the early days of the State. No one knew what kind of characters he might meet at any time or place, and men carried their lives in their hands when they went into the unknown. 

A party of prospectors who had trekked overland to the Victorian 'diggings' were returning after a successful mission, laden with the precious metal. Hearing hoof beats in the distance, they immediately stopped, awaiting the appearance of the stranger. At length he came up with them, drew rein, and enquired whether they were going to, or coming from the goldfields. 

The spokesman of the party answered that they were going to the 'diggings.' No sooner was the mysterious one out of sight than the party with alacrity sped into the bush in the opposite direction from that taken by the stranger. 

The other incident occurred in the foothills of Adelaide. A man who lived in what is now one of the eastern suburbs, was tramping home after having finished work and collected his wages. It was a pitch dark night as he made his way over rough ground, following a tiny track that was later to become one of the best roads in the State. Suddenly rounding a bend, he came face to face with another man. Neither spoke. Each stared suspiciously at the other. Then with the swiftness of lightning the first raised his fist and struck the other, felling him with the blow. Then he speedily went his way. Many a time afterwards he thought of that event, and wondered if the other man had been as innocent as himself. But in those days it paid one to be wary,— 'Lone Star,' Coorow, W.A.

Phar Lap Of The Dairy Herd

In my youth there was amongst my parents' dairy herd, a white Shorthorn cow. She was a pet, easily the quietest cow we had at the tune. To we kiddies she was a regular Phar Lap, but to our parents and the neighbors she appeared to be the curse of their lives. 

Of course, she milked well. Why shouldn't she, since she had the tit-bits of the whole of our small district. She would eat anything from cabbages to clothing. No fence would hold her. She could trot, gallop or jump— the latter being her tour de force— along with most horses. I've seen her take a fence and a drain together in her stride. 

One day, one of the neighbors being about fed up, and not without reason, he sent word to father to come and take his some-sort-of-cow home. Father whistled up the dog and off he went. 

Where was the cow? Shut up in the stockyard he was told. This yard was about the strongest and best to be found for many miles. Nothing had been known to get out of it. So the neighbor looked rather foolish when he and father went to the yard and found it empty. Looking at the height of the fence one could hardly credit it, but jump it she must have, as there was no other way out. Father, of course, had to dispose of her, but we kiddies were disappointed, especially as there had been no audience to see her take that epic leap over the stockyard fence.— 'M.E.B.,' Millicent.

Story Of A Ring

Some twenty miles south from Ceduna is the pretty little inlet by Laura Bay. It is a place visited by the farmers and their families during the summer months, and on New Year's Day a sports club holds its annual meeting on the beautifully firm beach. There are tall shady mangroves, delight to camp beneath, and many merry picnic parties assemble each year. 

Among the visitors at one of the early picnics was a young married couple, and the bride had the misfortune to lose her engagement ring. She noticed her loss almost at once, and with sympathising friends searched and sifted the sand for yards round where she thought she had lost it, but no amount of searching brought to light. 

Many years passed away. The couple improved their home and prospered, and became one of the best-known and best-liked families in the district. Practically every New Year's Day they made the trip to Laura Bay, and one can imagine that the lady had often pointed out to her friends the place where she lost her ring. 

At a recent picnic some people standing near the place, saw something shining in the sand and, on picking it up, found it to be a ring of an old pattern certainly, but quite bright and new looking. Enquiries among the crowd, most of whom are acquainted, did not bring to light any one who had lost a ring, and the finder was just beginning to think he had got a New Year prize when, on mentioning where he found it, the lady asked to see it, and at once recognised her long lost engagement token. 

It must have been there all those years with the tides ebbing and flowing over it, as it is quite unlikely it had been washed away and then returned to the same spot. On being thrown the place where the ring was found the owner declared it was no more than a few yards from where she dropped it.— Mona.

Tragedy Averted

Tailem Bend was crowded out for the annual race meeting. Mr. X. an Adelaide bookmaker, usually stayed at the local hotel, but that, too, was over-crowded. The publican was non-plussed. The "boots" at the hotel solved the problem by offering to sleep at his brother's house and let the book-maker have his room.  The visitor slept soundly until about 3.30 a.m. 

Then he was rudely awakened by a powerfully built black man, who was holding a candle in one hand and a carving knife in the other. He drew the knife several times across his own massive throat without, however, cutting it. Then the maniac left the room as quickly as he entered, without uttering a word. 

The bookmaker, terrified, rushed downstairs and roused the occupants. They, in turn, sent for the police. At 5 a.m. the "boots" arrived to begin his work. He was asked if he knew the maniac with a knife. "No," he replied, "but I asked Black Charlie, a friend of mine, who is dumb, to give me a hand to kill a pig this morning, and to call me at half-past three." Charlie probably drew the knife across his throat to remind the sleeper of the job. The police returned to the station, and the lodgers went back to bed; but the bookie went into the bar to have a whisky and soda.— A. Daly.