18 April 1935

WHERE THE COG WHEEL CAME FROM 

Pioneer Motorist's Puzzling Problem Solved

It was a nice spring morning, an ideal day for our trip to Adelaide. I had risen early, completed the few odd jobs I had to do, and was packing my bag in preparation for the outing. 

'You had better put in a pair of dirty trousers if you are going in Sam's old motor,' remarked my mate. You are bound to have a few stops and overhauls on the way down. By the time you get to the city, and that will be by the end of the week, the pair of you will just about have the buggy in working order.' I grunted in reply, but acted on his suggestion. 

Sam's old motor buggy was one of the first petrol driven vehicles in South Australia. I forget what make of car it was, but the engine was the noisiest I ever heard. Still I was very keen on the trip. It was my first ride in a motor buggy, and it was free. Consequently I was not inclined to be critical. 

I arrived at Sam's place and found him only half ready. Nothing ever excited him, which was just as well, or otherwise he would have thrown the old buggy on the rubbish heap years before. 

While Sam tidied up, I spent my time examining the motor. Of course such a thing was rare in those days, and the average individual was rather afraid to touch motors; but, being a very inquisitive lad, I soon found out how to sound the old type hooter with which the car was fitted. Sam came along, and I noticed that he was carrying an old pair of greasy overalls, which he pushed under the seat. He was evidently prepared for trouble. Well, so was I. 

Petrol was procured and the engine primed. After a few minutes' wait, a heavy starting handle was inserted in the flywheel and the engine swung over. At the first swing the engine started up. Sam smiled. 'She don't always do that,' he said. While the motor warmed up he busied himself oiling, adjusting drip feeds, &c. When all was going to his satisfaction he climbed into the buggy. I was already seated, and, giving the hooter a vigorous punch, he waved farewell to his wife, and away we went. 

We travelled exactly two yards in one spasmodic lurch, and then the engine stopped. Sam did not swear. He calmly clambered from the seat and commenced to crank again, but this time the engine displayed some obstinacy. After five minutes' hard work Sam announced that she was flooded, and that we had better go inside and have a bit of lunch while she dried out.

 After a cup of tea and some speculation we again tried our fortune. Sam cranked the engine, telling me to pull a lever up when it started. Our luck was in, and after a few swings of the starting handle the engine was banging as merrily as a steam hammer. But to avoid further trouble Mrs. Sam gave us a push off, and down the road we went. 

All went well until we came to the first hill, a few miles from home. Very laboriously the engine banged its way up, gradually losing speed. Sam was not the tensed, upright, begoggled speed driver of modern fiction; instead he lay back on the cushions smoking and conversing at intervals. 

When we were almost at the top of the hill Sam stopped the outfit and announced that she could not do it. I was told to open the gate leading into Sangster's paddock, and Sam backed the motor buggy. He drove through the gate, and then we started on a detour to avoid having to climb the hill. Over rough grassland we bumped our way steadily along till at last we reached another gate, and thus got on the road again.  But there we had to stop to mend a puncture. 

A flat tyre in those days took mending, and this one occupied us for fully an hour. Lighting up his pipe again, Sam let in the clutch and we tore down the hill at breakneck speed. From this point to Adelaide was mostly downhill, and through the Mount Pleasant country we chugged along, quite enjoying our drive. However, going down a slight incline, we were both surprised to see a cogwheel slip from underneath the buggy and skip down the road ahead of us, finally coming to rest on the side of the road. We slowed down and stopped to pick it up. 

This was very serious indeed. Sam wanted to be left in peace while he found out where it came from. I took a stroll into the bush, chased a few rabbits, and returned half an hour later, fully expecting to find Sam waiting. That was not the case. Sam was smothered in grease, parts and wrenches lay about, and he wore a very worried look. Before long I was in the thick of matters as well. 

For quite a long time we searched and screwed, but could not find a place to fit the cog. At last Sam became desperate and said he would drive on, even if the outfit fell to pieces. That cog would have to stay out of the works. We assembled various parts, threw our wrenches and the cog under the seat, and started up the engine. The buggy was allowed to run down the hill, and under our own power we drove away, fully expecting something to smash any minute. Everything, however, went along smoothly for some miles. 

We passed a trap and horses some distance on, respectfully pulled to the side of the road, with the driver hanging to the reins while his team shied and played up. We didn't give him a thought, and I, with youthful mischievousness, blew the hooter occasionally, sending cattle and horses on their way thoroughly scared. 

At Birdwood, as it is now called, we stopped for a few sandwiches. Just as we were about to continue our journey the trap and horses we had passed pulled into the town, and the driver, still holding his team very carefully, called out to Sam and waved something in his hand. Sam strolled across and was presented with a cogwheel which he was told had fallen from our motor buggy as we had passed the trap. 

'Those mower cogs are just like mine,' remarked the stranger, 'worn and chipped to pieces. Going to get a new set in Adelaide?' 'Yes. Thanks old chap,' replied Sam, considerably taken aback as he suddenly remembered that he had left that cogwheel on the buggy when he had dismantled an old grasscutter several weeks previously.— 'Motor Buggy.'

Insisted On Getting £1

Before schools were established in the country districts of the State, many of the working class were quite illiterate. As a result of their lack of knowledge they were often imposed upon by more educated persons with whom they came into contact. 

I remember a case in point a farmer who needed an extra 'hand' for the harvest interviewed a man whose muscle and brawn were much superior to his mental faculties, and offered him twenty-five shillings a week and his keep. That was considered good pay at the time. 

'No,' said the man, ''That's no good to me. I want a 'quid' a 'week or I won't take the job.' 

'All right,' agreed the farmer with seeming magnanimity, 'we'll make it a quid a week,' and he rode off, leaving the other man well pleased with his victory.— "Peggotty.'' 

Sir George Reid's Wit 

Many are the stories told of the quick wit and repartee of the late Sir George Reid, who was High Commissioner for Australia in London during the War. 

The following incident occurred at a rather rowdy election meeting at a country town in New South Wales, when he was a member of the Federal Parliament, Reid, who was a very fat man, appeared at the meeting wearing a dinner jacket. 

His broad expanse of white shirt front drew forth many unfriendly satirical remarks from those present, which he boomeranged back on the senders. Someone even went so far as to throw an egg and a paper bag of flour at him. Both burst on his shirt front. 

In no way disconcerted, Reid looked at the mess and exclaimed, 'Now, that's splendid. Your egg and flour and my fat. If someone will kindly supply the fire, we will make a pancake or an omelet, whichever you prefer.' 

The roar of laughter that followed was the prelude to a good hearing.— J.R.

Tales Of The Track

In the course of many years on the track carrying my swag I came across all manners of men and met some curious characters. 

One night two men arrived at my camp at Clare and started to 'turn in.' The weather was fairly cold, and one of them had two blankets that were considerably the worse for wear. He started to complain that he could not keep warm, whereupon his mate advised him to 'put one blanket over the other where the holes ain't in the other.'

I was once walking through a small township with a swagman I had overtaken and whom I did not know. We passed a group of children going to school, one of whom said, 'Good morning, Mr. Murphy.' 'You can see that all the children in this district respect me,' said my companion. A little further on we passed another group of children, one of whom greeted him with, 'Hello, Murphy the Cadger! Where are you going to 'bum' your tucker from tonight?' Mr. Murphy's reply will not bear repeating. 

I once passed a man on the road between Port Pirie and Laura who was pushing, a perambulator with his swag in it. When I asked him the reason, he said that it helped a chap to feel at home. I learned later that he was the father of five little children. 

On another occasion I met a man on the road pushing a bicycle wheel on an axle bar, to which were fastened two long pieces of wire which served as a handle. When I asked him why he did so he replied, 'It keeps a fellow from getting lazy. You see, I have to keep up with the wheel.' 

At another camp I met two brothers, one of whom had a sore throat. I advised him to get a bottle of eucalyptus and take a little on sugar in a spoon. They were both very uneducated and could not say 'eucalyptus.' I got over the difficulty by teaching one to 'eucal' and the other 'lyptus.' When I had done that, they went to the local chemist's and soon returned with the medicine. The chemist told me next day that he had enjoyed the joke so much that he had not charged them for it. 

Most men on the road know some thing about cooking, but occasionally one comes across a person who is al most ignorant of the art. I once walked into a camp in which one man was cursing his mate most vehemently. On enquiring the reason I was told that the elder man had gone into the township for bread, but before going had told the younger man not to forget to put the salt into the stew, which was cooking on the fire. He would find it in the tucker bag. 'What do I find when I get back?' he said. 'The silly fool put the whole two pound of salt that was in the bag into the stew. Haven't I got the right to rouse?' 

On the way to Woolshed Flat I once came across an old cottage where I decided to camp for the night. I went inside and found an old man already there. I made myself a billy of tea, and while I was drinking it I heard a scampering noise in one of the other rooms. 

On enquiring the cause, the old chap opened the door and showed me about 100 rabbits of all sizes in the room. He said that he kept them to sell to people of the district. He then showed me the other room, which contained a large sow. As there were no other rooms in the cottage. I decided to camp somewhere else for that night. -R.H.S. 

Discovery Of Copper At Blinman 

It is questionable whether any living person remembers the discovery of copper at Kapunda and Burra in the early forties. 

Some, perhaps, can recall the beginning of operations at Wallaroo and Moonta some fifteen years later, but how few knew anything of the history of the copper mines at Blinman and Sliding Sock in the North, Flinders Range. 

There recently died at Beltana Mr. Thomas Blinman, who claimed that it was his elder brother who first found copper in the Blinman district in I860. 

The discovery of the copper ore, which was made when the boys, the elder about eight and Tom barely four, were playing near their home in the Flinders Range, caused quite a stir, for it was only by chance that the father noticed the brilliant green and blue ores amongst the children's playthings some time after they returned home. 

Being an experienced prospector, he immediately recognised the stones as copper ore, and quickly summoned the child to lead him to the spot where it had been found. Other samples were discovered, and the father lost no time in pegging out his claim, which proved to be the site of the mine which eventuated later. 

Mr. Blinman could not remember just how his father came to lose the mine, but he believed it was because he was not able to go to England to complete matters. However, the town, which quickly sprang up, was named after him. Many will say that this was poor recompense for the loss of a fortune, for much copper was taken from the mine, and good prices were obtained.

Soon after the Blinman mine started, copper was also discovered at Sliding Rock, twenty miles north of Blinman, and for a time the two mines were worked in conjunction. Many residents of Beltana can remember Sliding Rock at its busiest period in the seventies. 

There was no railway in those days, and transport was a big problem. Camel teams were used to carry provisions and coke for smelting purposes. There were smelters at Blinman, Yudnamutana, and Leigh's Creek. The coal at the latter place, however, was of little use for coking. 

The two mines ceased operations in 1906. when they were in the hands of the Tasmanian Copper Company. At one time this company received as much as £86 a ton for the metal— three times the present price. 

Sliding Rock, which had a population of nearly a thousand, has been deserted. Today it has but two residents. The exodus from Blinman, though most marked, was not as great. There are now one hundred and fifty people living in Blinman, [currently 18] which township is the centre of a prosperous pastoral area. The old mine is still a source of interest to tourists.— 'Nawoc.'

[see rebuttal by C. E. Roberts 4 July 1935]