7 February 1935

ADELAIDE ART GALLERY ROBBED TO SHOW HOW EASILY IT COULD BE DONE 

Police Commissioner Informed Beforehand Of Proposed Theft

The exhibition of British pictures, held at the Art Gallery, recalls the 'theft' that took place in the old Gallery nearly 50 years ago. 

One of the most interesting facts connected with it was that the 'thief' wrote to the Commissioner of Police before he committed the act, and told him what he was going to do. He said that he intended to 'steal' a picture, to show how easy it would be for anyone else to do likewise. There are indeed many ways of showing one's public spirit, but the way he chose is probably one of the strangest on record. 

The 'theft' took place in November, 1885, the Art Gallery being then located in the room on the south side of the entrance to the Public Library Building, now known as the magazine room. Letters had appeared in the Adelaide daily papers from time to time, pointing out how insecurely the room was locked, but no action had been taken by the authorities to remedy the position. 

The 'public benefactor' was a Mr. A. H. Wistrand who, in order to carry out his purpose, hid himself on Saturday night, November 14, 1885, in a cupboard behind the front door of the building. This cupboard was used for storing dusters, brooms, and a little lumber, and unless he actually opened the door, it would be unlikely that the caretaker would notice anyone in it. 

Soon after the building had been securely locked on the outside, Wistrand left his hiding place, and found it an easy matter to prise open the links of the soft metal chain which was padlocked through the handles of the Gallery doors. The links of this chain had not even been soldered, and any one of them could have been opened with a stout pocket-knife. 

With great care, Wistrand took a small painting, 'Avant la Procession,' from its frame, and with the canvas in his pocket forced an exit through the window lighting the stone steps leading to the crypt. It appears that he let down this window in such a hurry that he broke it. Having opened the window, he made a hole in the wire-netting screen outside it just sufficient to allow him to crawl through. 

'Avant la Procession' had been bought for £200 from the French Gallery, London, and was one of the most popular paintings in the Gallery. It is still on view at the Art Gallery in one of the bays on the right. 

Before Wistrand attempted his risky 'public duty,' he took the precaution to write to the Commissioner of Police, and to post the letter on the Saturday morning. The letter read:— 

'Sir — The course of action I have decided upon makes it imperative for me, for more than one reason, to communicate with a man of high intelligence, and one able to give an unprejudiced opinion, and who is willing to do so, even where public sentiments takes a different view. I hope and believe that the people of Adelaide will to the full extent appreciate my action in this matter. 

'I, a short time ago, saw two men in the vestibule of the Art Gallery handling the chain which keeps it locked. After they had left, I went up to it, and saw that the links were so open that anyone could simply unfasten them. I have formed a plan to prove to the country and the committee of the Art Gallery that it is not safe, and I know that I would not succeed in doing that unless I undertook to take something out of the gallery myself. Therefore tonight I intend to enter the Art Gallery to take out one of the smallest oil paintings. If I am caught on the spot, I hope this will clear me; if I succeed, I shall call at the Detective Office on Sunday and see you. If I am not arrested, on the spot, I shall be thankful if you shall keep this private until you see me on Sunday, the 15th inst.— Yours respectfully, A. H. Wistrand.' 

He sent another letter at the same time to Mr. E. T. Smith, M.P., whom he asked to state that he had received a letter if necessary. Wistrand called at 'The Advertiser' Office on the Sunday afternoon, and stated that he would hand over the painting which a friend of his had stolen, if the editor would give him a receipt for it. 

It was agreed to do this and, in handing it over, Wistrand admitted that he had been the culprit. He was arrested on 'The Advertiser' steps and taken to the watch-house. His letter to the Commissioner of Police did not reach its destination until Monday morning, and Wistrand spent the night in the cells. He answered questions readily. 

He said that he was a Swede, and had come from Wallaroo to Adelaide. He had had an agency, but had lost it, and for some time had kept a smallgoods shop. His present occupation was debt-collecting and conducting an agency. He lived in an alley off Halifax street, and neighbors spoke of his eccentricity. He had a habit of firing guns to the alarm of the neighbors, and had other peculiar habits. 

There is no doubt, however, that his action had beneficial results, if not to himself. Mr. Rowland Rees, M.P., who was chairman of the Board of Governors of the Art Gallery, said that some time ago the insecurity of the National Gallery had been pointed out by him, and he had advocated iron bars being placed across the windows. Whether from 'economy or architectural difficulties' that course had not been adopted. 

As soon as the 'theft' was reported, Mr. Rees gave instructions that a letter be written to the Architect-in-Chief, pointing out the insecurity of the building. He added that that official's 'attention had been repeatedly called' to the fact. The Art Gallery at that time was insured for £8,000. 

On the Tuesday morning Wistrand appeared in court, not charged with a felony, but with damaging a picture to the extent of 10/, and a window to the extent of £1. He was ordered to pay the damages, and a fine of £2 in addition. Although he had to spend a night in the cells and pay £3 10/, it must have been some satisfaction to him to know that he had achieved his purpose. — C.V.H.

Not Loaded

Some years ago a visitor to Kangaroo Island was arrested by the Kingscote police on a charge of robbery. He, however, escaped from the lock-up and walked 25 miles to American River, where lack of food forced him to visit the local store.  As soon as his customer had left, the storekeeper telephoned to the police, who started out from Penneshaw, a distance of about 21 miles, to recapture their former prisoner. 

Realising that some time must elapse before the arrival of the police, the local postmaster and another man set out in a motor car to see what they could do. Overtaking the man along the road, they offered him a lift, which was accepted. They then drove on, intending to meet the police car without the man becoming aware of their intentions. They had gone about three miles when the man became suspicious and endeavored to leave the car. 

A surprise, however, was in store for him. The postmaster drew a revolver and forced him to put his hands up. They travelled in that manner until the man was safely handed over to the proper authorities. 

Subsequently the storekeeper, when he heard of the postmaster's action, remonstrated with him. He told him that he had done a very foolish thing. 

'Why?' asked the postmaster. 

'Well,' was the reply, 'if the revolver had gone off the man would have been shot, and you would have been arrested for manslaughter.' 

'I don't think that would happen,' was the quiet reply. 

'Why not?' demanded the store keeper. 'The slightest jolt might have shaken your arms and shot the man. You can't say that wouldn't have happened.' 

'Yes, I can,' replied the other. 'The revolver wasn't loaded.'— 'Diabolo.'

Murdered For His Gold

Cape Thomas, known to residents of Robe as 'Bosun's Point,' received the latter name from an old local identity. 

In the early fifties two men got into trouble at Port Adelaide, and in order to escape arrest, stole a boat and set off down the gulf. They were known as Bill Taylor and 'Bosun.' They landed at Cape Thomas in the season of 'muntrees'— a native fruit growing on the south-eastern coast, which ripens in February. 

A party of natives came down to the coast for the seasonal gathering, but seeing the white 'pfellers' they cleared out. Later, however, Bosun became friendly with a young native girl, known in after years as 'Maggie,' and for a time she be came his lubra. A son was born to them and was known as 'Tommy Bosun.' 

The elder Bosun was a resident of Robe for many years, and was there when the Chinamen landed at that port in hordes in 1857. The colored men brought much gold in the shape of sovereigns, and the residents of the old town soon acquired a good deal of it. Bosun was among the gatherers, and carried his wealth in a leathern belt round his waist. 

In the early seventies Bosun, with a mate named Brown, sailed to Nora Crenia Bay on a fishing excursion. As they did not return to Robe at the expected time, search was made. The sailing boat was still anchored in the pretty little bay, and contained a large quantity of rotting fish, the dinghy and oars being strewn along the shore. Diligent search was made of the locality, but no trace of either could be found, dead or alive. It was concluded that they had both perished by the overturning of the dinghy in the rough sea, and in a few years the tragedy was forgotten. 

Many years afterwards, however, word came from England that a man named Brown had died in a London hospital, and on his deathbed had confessed that he had murdered his mate Bosun for his gold.— 'Tanta-Tyga.'

Calf That Reared Itself

In these days of record-breaking nothing comes as a surprise. A few years ago I knew a mare that of her own accord, in hot weather in February, went 10 days without water, and at the end of that time she appeared to be less in need of a drink, and had a brighter coat than other horses on the same farm that had water two or three times a day. 

In the paddock where the mare was running there were some natural scrub, a heap of uncleaned wheat, which she did not touch, and some fallow on which thistles were growing. 

It may have been the last named that supplied the needed moisture, or have we in the mallee scrub some fodder plant at present unknown to farmers and agricultural experts, as the following story would suggest: — 

Between Maggea and Naidia there were once many miles of virgin scrub. Farmer A had a cow that each year went back to his old farm — now occupied by Farmer B— to have her calf. 

On one such occasion the calf could not be found, and, believing it to be dead, they took the cow home. A few weeks later the calf was seen by Farmer B, who, although on a horse, failed to catch it. From then onwards it was occasionally seen, but was too sure and swift of hoof for a horseman to head it. 

By the time it was two or three months old it had wandered six miles through scrub to the farm of Farmer C, who mixed it in with his own calves and communicated with Farmer A, who made him a present of it. 

No coaxing could persuade this calf to drink water. In appearance he was like a calf that ran with its mother— fat and glossy. When he was put in a thousand-acre paddock that was devoid of scrub, however, he took to drinking water and fell away in condition to such an extent that he was renamed 'Misery.' 

Upon being removed to a paddock where he had access to scrub he began to look his old bright self again, and soon found his way to where all good steers go — the butcher's. — 'Rising Sun,' Naidia.

Jew Lizard's Vitality

When my brother and I were going to the milking shed about 6 o'clock one morning we saw a carpet snake in a tree swallowing what appeared to be a bird. 

We hurried through the milking so that we could go after the snake, but our father had something else for us to do when we had finished so we could not get time to hunt the snake until after lunch— about six hours later. 

When we had killed it we cut it open. It was 5 ft. 11 in. long and several inches round the girth. We found, when we cut it open, that instead of swallowing a bird when we had seen it in the morning it had been swallowing a jew lizard. 

The lizard was about 15 in. long and puffed up like a balloon. It was apparently dead when we discovered it, but after it had lain on the ground for about ten minutes it began to crawl away. It had been inside the snake without air for nearly six hours.— F.G.

An Endless Task

A farmer driving a waggon from Tailem Bend to Murray Bridge some years ago, noticed an Aborigine walking alongside the vehicle, keeping always just abreast of it. After a mile or two the presence of the blackfellow began to get on the farmer's nerves, so he asked him why he was following him. 'I want to see big feller wheel catch um little feller wheel,' was the reply.— J. Riley.