17 January 1935

MUSICAL GENIUS BURIED ON LONELY OUTBACK RUN 

Shepherd Who Spent His Time Rewriting Classical Masterpieces

Many are the queer characters that drift northwards on to the outback stations. One of the strangest was Jim Curlwyn, a shepherd on lonely little Parrawinna, north-west of Simon's Bore, and under its management. Generally, shepherds in the north are regarded as being crazy by the drovers. They suggest that the extreme loneliness turns their mind, but that is not always the case. Many of these men seek the lonely wastes with the sheep and dogs as their sole companions, for thus situated they are free to dream. They are nearly all dreamers, each with a cherished ambition he has failed to realise. And so they drift outback; in the peace and calm of the northern nights they live alone with their dreams and memories. 

Curlwyn was alone for years. Once in three months— often at longer intervals —a 'tucker' waggon went out to him from the Bore to see if he was all right. Once a year three drovers went out, drove the sheep into the Bore for shearing, and returned them a few weeks later. A lonelier life it is hard to imagine, yet Curlwyn was never heard to complain. In fact, he liked it, refusing a change whenever it was offered him. He had built himself a very comfortable slab hut and there, with his dogs, he was content. 

But he had his dreams. Music was the substance of them all. No one ever found out his past, and it will forever remain a mystery. True to the traditions of the north, no one ever asked questions. However, when anyone visited his camp, he was greeted by the sound of music, if Curlwyn was at home. He possessed a really beautiful violin and a large harp. These two instruments, it will be noted, give a complete pianoforte score, capable of all chromatics and variations. 

Playing the instruments was not all this strange character desired. He was capable of composition and must at one time have been a musician of more than ordinary ability. He possessed no printed music scores yet he had written for his own purposes most of the classic violin pieces. This I found out as a tucker waggon hand, when one day I arrived during his absence. 

Later he confided in me. Many famous pieces were, in his opinion, not completely and correctly composed. Some had harsh endings, others had faulty bars, and he in his own time altered and rewrote them, till they were, to his way of thinking, absolutely correct. He claimed that some music was written on the spur of the moment — a sudden inspiration — and that the composers had not given it sufficient consideration. Some music, he said, was famous just because of one or two beautiful opening bars, the rest being uninteresting. 

It was his dream to make these pieces, which he considered incorrect and incomplete, note perfect. He had the time, he claimed, that the composers had lacked to create the perfection of the theme. Using only a pencil and ordinary writing paper, Curlwyn had spent years rewriting and rearranging the pieces he considered worth while. 

But music of any degree of quality is not generally understood in the outback, and no one took the slightest notice of him or his work. He was only a shepherd, and they are all considered crazy. One never knows, but perhaps on that lonely run there may have lived a genius — or perhaps the others were right. Curlwyn lived and loved his musical dreams as few can realise. A man of years and experience, he came to a sad end. 

The shearing season was approaching, and an early shearing had been decided upon. Curlwyn had been visited by the tucker waggon in March, and another was due in May. As shearing was to begin, early in July, it was decided to postpone the trip until then. When the drovers who went out for the sheep reached Curlwyn's camp they were horror-stricken to find it in ashes. Everything had been burnt to the ground. The shepherd's charred remains were given a decent burial, and his dogs mourned their master. The sheep had not suffered, but the station had lost a faithful hand, and the world may have lost a master musician.— "Memorabilia"

Musicians Go On Strike 

Some years ago two young men were invited to a party at a house about 15 miles from their home. As they were not very well acquainted with the people giving the party they were somewhat surprised at receiving an invitation. A request to bring an accordion accompanied the invitation. 

On arrival at the scene of the party they were heartily welcomed by the hostess. Presently one of them was approached and asked if he would play for a dance. He gladly acquiesced. He played for three or four, and then handed the accordion to his companion to play for a dance or two. His companion, however, was not a good musician, so he returned the instrument to him again. In this manner the evening wore on, no one coming to relieve the players, although others were enjoying the dance. 

Finally a 'ladies' choice' was announced, but neither player was asked to dance by any of the girls present. The truth then dawned on them. They had 'been invited solely for the benefit of the other guests. 

Once they realised this they wasted no time. Slipping out of the house unnoticed, they were just preparing for the homeward journey when their absence was discovered by the master of ceremonies, who turned to instruct the player that all was ready. He was missing. 

Even the most sedate maidens are apt to forget their dignity under such circumstances. With one accord they rushed from the ballroom and raced down the track, quickly overtaking the retreating figures. They entreated them to return, but all to no purpose, and they were forced to wend their way back to the house again disconsolately. — 'Peggotty.' 

A Gruesome Experience 

Within a few hours of his arrival in South Australia, a gruesome experience befell Mr. J. W. Bull, one of the State's earliest settlers. 

He was approaching what was then known as the North Adelaide Hill when his attention was drawn to a crowd of about 200 people surrounding a large gum tree. At first he could not discern what had attracted the crowd. 

Then suddenly a stampede took place, many people rushing away in all directions, yelling and groaning. 

Mr. Bull was shocked to see a man suspended by the neck from an outspreading limb, with two other men hanging on to his legs. 

He was told by one of the stampeders that it was "a regular and legal affair," but the hangman had bungled his job and bolted, followed by the spectators. The sheriff, Mr. Bull was told, was trying to finish the job on his own. 

Mr. Bull was later informed that the police had caught the escaping hangman, who was brought back to finish his work. The sheriff had been completely unnerved.  "I went on my Journey," wrote Mr. Bull "with the satisfaction of knowing that I had adopted a country where civilisation was known and practised." —K.K. 

Sad Ending To Ceremony 

As the Union Jack was being run up at the first landing of settlers at Boston Bay, Port Lincoln, in 1839, a regrettable accident occurred which was looked upon by a number of the settlers as an ill-omen. 

To those acquainted with the early history of Port Lincoln it would seem that the omen was not without effect. 

The arrangement had been made that on the party being landed; the members should fire a volley. The mate on board the Abeona would answer by firing a cannon. The British flag would be run up, and the mate would then fire a second salute. 

As had been arranged, a volley was fired and the cannon aboard the vessel immediately boomed out. The party ashore then started to hoist the Union Jack when, to the surprise of its members, the cannon again boomed forth, to be immediately followed by a splash in the sea. 

Realising that an accident had occurred, Captain Hawson and several other members of the party pushed off in a boat and returned to the vessel. On arrival, they were horrified to find the mate lying in a pool of blood on the deck and screaming with pain. His eyes had been almost blown out, and his face and body were badly injured, while one hand was practically blown off. 

The poor fellow begged them to throw him overboard to end his suffering, it appeared that he had made the error of ramming the charge into the cannon with an iron bar, which had struck a spark and ignited the powder. The splash which had been observed was the iron bar which had been hurled a great distance by the explosion. 

One of the party who had a slight knowledge of surgery amputated a portion of the injured man's hand and dressed, his wounds. With all possible haste, the captain landed the provisions and belongings of the settlers and returned to Adelaide. 

Contrary to what was expected, the injured man was still alive on his arrival. He was immediately removed to the Adelaide Public Hospital, which was then a small thatched building on North terrace. To the surprise of the doctors who attended him, the maimed man recovered and lived for a number of years.— 'Memorabilia.' 

The Shepherd's Wife 

About 60 years ago a shepherd's wife, living on a sheep and cattle run, chose as a pastime hunting and trapping snakes, goannas, lizards, and birds. The blacks taught her and she became expert and dexterous. 

She had a stick with a slight fork at the end with which she pinned the snake down. Then she roped it with twisted wire grass. The next process was to tease it with a bough, at which it would bite until all its poison was exhausted. 

She held the snake firmly behind the head with one hand and, with a knitting needle, ground finely to a point, ran it through the brain. Then she skinned it, ripped out the inside, wiped it, and roasted it in a camp open to extract the oil. She only ate the flesh of black snakes. 

Goannas were fat and heavy, and when roasted produced a large quantity of oil. Four of these reptiles made a meal for the family. She said their flesh tasted like chicken, and was a change from the eternal mutton. 

At the end of the season she sent a pack of skins to be sold, and made into belts and pouches and bags. The snake oil was sold to ease rheumatic pains, and the goanna oil was rubbed on swellings and wounds. She would never tell us how she cured the skins, but they looked like life. 

Her house was a very attractive one to the station children, who would look wonderingly at the stuffed birds and skins, and her stories of bird and bush life were very entertaining. — S.M.J. 

Men Who Blazed The Trail 

What was described by a pioneer as one of the first steps towards the conversion of the wilderness of South Australia into a fruitful garden was the first overland expedition with cattle from New South Wales to this State, 96 years ago. 

About 300 cattle were mustered on the banks of the River Goulburn, and a start was made on January 26, 1838, under the leadership of Messrs. Charles Bonney and Joseph Hawdon. The journey occupied 10 weeks and was accomplished without any serious mishap, and almost without the loss of a single animal. 

The most remarkable feature of the trip was the absence of any serious trouble with the natives, who abounded in the country between New South Wales and South Australia. Many of the tribes in this vast area were very hostile towards the white man.  On only one occasion during the trip, however, was there any danger of a clash with them. 

Bonney had left the rest of the party to look for a road, and during his absence a number of blacks had gathered on the edge of a lagoon, not far from the white men. Curious as to the mission of the strangers, the natives made a move to approach them by crossing the shallow lagoon. The white men, thinking that the blacks intended to attack them, put up their rifles, and the natives handled their spears in self defence. 

Luckily, Bonney returned at this moment, and he told his comrades to put down their guns. He then parleyed with the blacks, and peace was soon restored. 

The white men were surprised at the friendly spirit of the blacks during the long trek overland. On many occasions the natives proved very useful to the drovers, and some of them willingly acted as guides through particularly wild country. 

"One native," writes Mr. Bonney, "had never seen a white man before, but he seemed to know almost by instinct where a dray could pass and where it could not. He acted as my guide for four days, and during the whole of the time he never once led us wrong."— F.R.D.