3 January 1935

WHEN RIOTERS STORMED THE TREASURY OFFICE

Serious Disturbance In Old Days Recalled

Adelaide has been described as the most law-abiding capital in the Commonwealth, and we who belong to the 'fair city of the south' must naturally appreciate the compliment. There have been, however, some serious public disturbances in the history of Adelaide, and one — perhaps the most serious of all — was a riot which occurred in the heart of the city early in March, 1870.

Up till that time there had been no similar event although at one election meeting before the ballot was introduced, there had been some rather exuberant displays of party feeling, and for a little while a good deal of stone throwing; but the streets were quickly cleared by the police, and little damage was done.

Although not nearly as serious or far reaching as the depression which exists today, the year 1868 was one of prevailing unemployment, for the season had been a bad one and a large number of men were becoming desperately in need of work. It had been the custom in times like these for the Government to employ the surplus labor at a moderate or low rate of wage on public works. The rate was fixed just high enough to enable a person to support himself, but hardly high enough to induce anyone not absolutely without resources, to avail himself of it.

A number of men waited on the Commissioner of Public Works (Mr. Colton) and asked him to find work for them. He offered to do so if they would go to the scene of the Lunatic Asylum, where they would be set to work at trenching the ground at 1/10 a rod. This rate of pay was not considered sufficient, and the deputation left.

On the following day the unemployed gathered in force in front of the Government offices and commenced hooting and yelling at the top of their voices. A small body of police was sent for, but the men rushed into the Government offices and up the stairs, threatening the members of the Government generally. The police had a hot time. In vain they endeavored to quell the disturbance. Then a number of civil servants arrived on the scene. They forced their way into the crowded passages, thrusting out both the police and the rioters into the street. They then fastened the doors behind them. Finding that they could not gain access to the Ministry as a whole, the mob turned its attention to the Commissioner of Public Works, and began to bustle him about.

A party of mounted police was sent for, and took up a position at the Waymouth street corner, prepared to act if necessary. By this time the crowd of rioters had increased considerably, and it was decided to rush the offices. About 200 men formed in some sort of order in the middle of the street, and made ready to advance, but the arrival of the mounted police temporarily checked the trouble. A meeting of protest was held near the Town Hall, and later about 100 men, now quite desperate, rushed the Treasury office. Twenty policemen, who guarded the doors, had to fight grimly to hold the rioters at bay, but they were soon dislodged, and the mob tried to burst in the doors. Batons and bottles were used freely, and several men fell to the ground unconscious. The troopers used the flats of their swords in the struggle, stones were thrown, and many officers were badly hurt. The fight went on for more than an hour, and at last, when the police succeeded in restoring order, the ring leaders were arrested and the crowd dispersed. The disturbance was remembered by Adelaide people for many years, for it was subsequently learned that several of the leaders in the riot had fairly large sums of money in the Savings Bank!— F.R.D.

Real Life Stories Of South Australia (1935, January 3). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 12. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article92366991

Forgotten Racecourse

Standing near the main road, about eight miles from Robe, is a house which is always referred to as 'The Telegraph.' For many years it served as an inn, and was a popular stopping place in the old coaching days.

For more than 30 years annual race meetings were held there. They proved very popular, and horses were brought from many miles around. On one occasion, however, it seemed as though the annual meeting would fall through. The landlord, fearing that he was going to lose a very profitable day, offered to give attractive money prizes for several of the events. The meeting was duly held, but when the prizewinners came to collect their money, the donor declared that his takings for the day had been so poor that he could not afford to pay out. The news was soon passed round. To others than the winners of the events it did not matter a great deal. Seeing that the landlord happened to be a man of huge stature, most of the winners took it very well saying that at all events they had had a good day's sport.

However, there was one man who declared that he was not going to take it so easily. He was a very small Scotsman with a very broad accent. Being a comparative stranger he had not met the landlord. He said that having won a race, he intended to have his prize money, or know the reason why. The crowd agreed that this was as it should be, and followed him to the hotel to see the fun. On finding him self confronted with a man about four times his own size, the little Scotsman stared up at him in consternation. 'Oh hull,' he said, 'I dinna like the look o' the—? .'

During the severe earthquake experienced in the South-East about 40 years ago, The Telegraph was badly damaged. In the rebuilding it was considerably altered. Fifteen years ago the licence was given up, and the old hotel became an ordinary dwelling house. Thirty years have passed since the last race meeting was held at The Telegraph. The old racecourse is now a scrub-grown paddock. Most of the men who were wont to gather there every year have crossed the range. — A.H.B.

1935 'Forgotten Racecourse', Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), 3 January, p. 12. , http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article92366992

Bumble Carries On

In pre-war days Rumble was a commercial traveller, and a very ordinary one at that. His astonishment therefore, at being appointed a censor when war broke out, must have been equally as great as was that of those who were acquainted with him for qualifications for the position he apparently had none, although he would have been the first to deny that accusation. However, as a cable messenger remarked, he looked just as happy as though he had brains.

As time progressed he be came more and more important, and consequently correspondingly unpopular. His cablegram decoder, Hugh Wray, decided that it was time that he was pulled up a bit, so he walked into the Western office one morning and in formed Rumble that he (Bumble) had been deputed by the chief censor to re port on an anti-conscription meeting to be held that night. At that time feeling was running rather high in connection with the conscription issue, and Rumble anxiously enquired of Wray whether the mission would be a dangerous one. Wray informed him quite seriously that should he be noticed there, it would probably be a case of 'stilettos running deep,' and advised him to enter the hall after the meeting had started and to leave before it finished. For the remainder of the day Rumble did not know whether he was passing enemy information through, or not, but in the evening he followed Wray's advice to the letter.

Next morning he arrived at the office looking more important than ever, conscious of the great job he had performed for his country; but he collapsed like a pricked balloon when he opened a letter which was lying on the table addressed to him in an unfamiliar hand. The contents were as follows: —

'Wretched man. 'You were seen last night, so must pay the penalty. Your hour therefore is at hand. So beware! Beware!' The letter was signed in blood with a skull and crossbones alongside, and certainly looked very threatening.

'My dad said I was too brave and should not have gone,' whimpered Rumble. He then asked Wray what he thought they would do. 'Why, they'll probably shoot you through the letter w of that word Western on the window, as they must know that you sit directly behind it,' he answered. Rumble moved his chair to the other end of the window; but towards the end of the day he suddenly jumped up, grabbed his hat, and announced his intention of going down to report his fears to the detective office. Wray took him aside, and showing him a scratch on his finger, said, 'I was removing a splinter last night, and you would have been surprised if you had seen the quantity of blood that I lost in the process.' 'You blanky old blighter,' said Rumble, much relieved. He however, kept very quiet for some weeks.— 'Corstep.'

Bumble Carries On (1935, January 3). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 12. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article92366993

'Cowed'

Some time ago, whilst on a trapping holiday, an amusing incident, al though serious enough at the time, be fell three companions and myself. After setting the traps earlier in the afternoon, we returned about 11 p.m. for the first spoils. Having collected about three dozen rabbits in our bags we set off back to the camp, taking a short cut through a large paddock. About halfway through Tom, who was leading with the lantern, stopped dead, but almost immediately advanced again with a scornful laugh. 'It's only old Leatherhead' (our horse), he remarked, at the same time thrusting the light in the face of the animal which confronted us.

For a moment there was a tense silence. Our hearts thudded, and then Tom, with a howl of dismay, dropped the lantern and disappeared in the darkness. 'A bull!' said Smithy huskily, as he and Les beat a hasty retreat. Not a second behind them, I rushed to the fence, got caught in it, kicked madly, and finally rolled through it with sundry cuts and scratches. I then limped back to the fire to await the others. They came in at intervals, all mumbling threats of vengeance against the bull, and after mutually sympathising with one another we turned in for the night. On rising, the first thing to catch our eyes was our overnight enemy gazing at us with mournful eyes from the nearby field. With a choking cry Smithy seized the nearest weapon— a saucepan— and, with streaming eyes, the humor reacting on us, we watched the two disappear over the sandhill — Smithy and the cow.— A.B.

Cowed" (1935, January 3). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 12. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article92366994

Who First Landed On The Mainland?

That is a question which perhaps cannot now be settled with anything like definiteness. Men who had left whaling or sealing ships were the first white settlers on Kangaroo Island, but we know that some of them went over to the mainland and took unto themselves 'wives' by force; so they must have landed there.

But there is something more definite than that, if we consider Baudin's Rocks (or Godfrey Island) as part of the mainland, for I believe that they are connected therewith by a reef. [bit tenuous! - Ed.] We read in the 'Letters of Victorian Pioneers' that Captain Hart, who was three times Premier of South Australia, wrote:— 'Early in December we landed at Portland Rocks (Vic.), in Portland Bay, where we were joined by a boat's crew left there a year before, they having, in the meantime, procured 400 seal skins. Proceeding towards Kangaroo Island, we anchored in Guichen Bay. Landing [the Elizabeth] at Baudin's Rocks on December 16, 1831, we killed 30 seals, leaving one man there with a supply of provisions and water until our return. We anchored in Nepean Bay on the 20th. We procured from the salt lagoons five tons of salt. We bought 150 seal skins and 12,000 wallaby skins from the islanders.' They subsequently returned to Baudin's Rocks and picked up the man they had left there.— Tanta Tyga.

Who First Landed On The Mainland? (1935, January 3). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 12. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article92366995

Large Enough

About a week ago my mother carried a bundle of wood in her arms from the wood heap into the kitchen, and while putting some on the fire felt something brush her face. At first she thought it might have been an adder, but as no sign of one could be seen she eventually concluded that it must have been a piece of bark. Shortly afterwards, however, she noticed that the cat was very excited over something under the dresser and, on looking under it, she saw an adder about nine inches long. Not very long, perhaps, but large enough if it had bitten her to have caused serious trouble.— Flora Mac.

Large Enough (1935, January 3). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 12. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article92366996