14 May 1936

STATE'S GREATEST LOTTERIES

Adelaide And Glenelg As First Prizes

If South Australia is given a State lottery as a result of the findings of the Lotteries Commission, which is now taking evidence, it is certain that the prizes will not bear comparison with those offered in the earliest days of the State; for no promoter of a lottery, no matter how ambitious, could offer as first prize the selection of acre blocks in the City of Adelaide, or even the whole of Glenelg.

Actually these were given as first prizes in what were in reality State lotteries, although they were not described as such. In the lottery for parts of the City of Adelaide there were 437 entries— the holders of 437 preliminary land orders, which had been issued in England before South Australia had been founded. March 10, 1837, was the day appointed for the drawing of lots to decide to whom the first choice should go.

A number of these holders of preliminary land orders had more than one claim, and they were at liberty to take their choices separately or together. The procedure generally adopted in such cases was to place the numbers in two boxes, one to represent the number of the land order and the other the order of choice.

But even then the lottery did not end, for who could tell where the business quarter of the infant city would grow up? Would it be round Victoria square, the virtual centre of Colonel Light's city?

Mr. S. G. Smith, who won the right of choosing first, decided on two blocks (he had combined his two chances) between Franklin street and Grote street, facing Victoria square. The present site of 'The Advertiser,' on the corner of King William and Waymouth streets, was chosen as the second-best, but those with third and fourth choice reserved their rights of choice for Port Adelaide. Land order holdings with fifth and sixth choice also went to Victoria square frontages.

In those days nobody could visualise that a narrow street like Rundle street would become Adelaide's chief shopping centre, and when Mr. J. P. Nodin chose the Beehive Corner, 40 others had found other sites they preferred. The blocks adjoining the corner went to the South Australian Company with its 325th and 328th choice. Time provided even the virtual "losers'' in this contest with consolation prizes which far exceeded all the principal prizes at the time. Governor Hindmarsh could be relied upon to evoke some trouble, and at the drawing had high words with the colonial manager of the South Australian Company (Samuel Stephens) and threatened to arrest him. J. B. Hack's estimate of Hindmarsh's character — 'He seems very well intended, but is hasty and headstrong to an excess, and appears to have no command over himself' —appears to have been a shrewd delineation.

There was more trouble, this time rather more serious, when Glenelg was the first prize in another lottery. On the surface it appears an ordinary tender. The announcement read that the Government was calling tenders for the purchase of Glenelg — an area of 65 acres at £1 an acre. All would have been well if there had been only one tenderer, but when tenders closed there were no less than 1,200 applications! This does not mean that 1,200 people wanted to buy Glenelg, even at £1 an acre. The usual method of deciding purchasers in those days was by lot, and to give them more chances, people who wanted to buy the land entered applications for members of their families and friends. Other people combined into companies for taking out tenders, on the agreement that if one of them was successful, he would share his prize— Glenelg in this case— with other members of the company. Hence it can be easily seen how the 1,200 tenders were made up.

At 10.30 a.m. on the day on which the tenders were due to be drawn at noon, representatives of the South Australian Company went to Governor Gawler and demanded that 43 acres of the 65 in Glenelg should be given to them as holders of a preliminary land order entitling them to 80 acres. The Governor refused their claim, saying that their land order could stand on equal terms with money tenders. 'Why did you come at the last minute?' asked Governor Gawler. 'If the public is reminded that 80 acre land orders would be received before tenders were opened, hundreds would have been sent in as early as ours,' company officials explained.

It was unfortunate for the company's claim, that the manager at that time (David McLaren) had sent in a tender on his own account. The evening before tenders closed he went to Mr. Pinke, a treasury clerk, and told him that the tendering for Glenelg was a lottery of which he did not approve, and on his request his deposit money was returned. His tender, however, was still with the others, and officials refused to give it to him without authority from Osmond Gilles, the treasurer.

At the time when the tenders were to be opened at the Courthouse, the Governor, the Advocate-General, and Chief Secretary conferred and decided that the disposal of Glenelg by tender and lot was justified. Both Mann, the South Australian Company's solicitor, and McLaren were in the room where the drawing was taking place, and Ormsby, Superintendent of the Survey Department, was asked to give up McLarens' tender. Hall, the Assistant Lands Commissioner, who was presiding, told Ormsby not to give up anything without express permission. Mann then started opening the tenders himself, and came to McLaren's tender. Hall ordered him to put it back, and the Governor, who had just re-entered, supported Hall. When the tenders were drawn, Miss E. Blunden, Osmond Gilles' ward; Kinke, chief clerk of the treasury; and Wigley, resident magistrate, were among the winners. Governor Gawler, in an official memorandum to London, states that 10 tenders were received from members of David McLaren's family and 15 'other persons.' The applications were 'mostly in McLaren's own hand writing.'— C.H.

Queer Pup Scalps

Whilst managing a small property in Queensland I gave permission to a 'dogger' to kill dingoes on the run. At the time dingo scalps- were paid for by the Board at £1 each, and it was not long before he had secured a good haul. As I usually made a trip to the township a couple of times a month, it was customary for me to take in to the shire scalp receiver any scalps the 'dogger' had on hand.

After a few good months, success seemed to make the 'dogger' thirsty, and he followed the precedent invariably set by 'chequed up' bushmen of indulging in a spree. With his cheque exhausted, he returned to secure again the where withal for another spree later on in the year.

A week or two after his return, the 'dogger' rode in to the homestead and, throwing down a sugar bag, casually remarked that he had secured a good haul for the week. 'Got six grown dingoes and a nest of pups— seven of 'em, all black.' As I was driving in to the township the following day, I asked the 'dogger' to make out a list of the supplies he needed. With a voucher for £13 due from the six grown dingo scalps and the seven pups, the 'dogger' made out a big list. On the way into town I thought it strange for dingo pups to be about during the middle of summer, and curiosity caused me to untie the bag and inspect the contents. One look at the head to tail scalps of the pups was sufficient. However, on arriving at the receiver's office, I handed him the bag, with the information that it contained six dingo scalps and seven queer-looking 'pup' scalps. At the receivers' suggestion, I followed him down the yard and assisted him to make a fire. Not wishing to be a party to the deception, I remarked, as the receiver emptied out the scalps prior to burning them, that the 'pups' seemed to have funny hair. Greatly to my surprise, the receiver, after handling a couple of the 'pup' scalps, remarked, 'They're genuine dingo pups all right. On to the fire one after another went the 13 scalps, and I'll admit that I felt guilty on receiving the voucher a few minutes later.

In due course I arrived back home again, to be received by an anxious 'dogger.' Handing over a few shillings change, I adopted the sternest demeanour possible, and upbraided him for trying to impose on me. 'Did the old blankard wake up to them pups?' he asked. 'Well, I'm hanged. I thought he'd be too blind to know what they were.' Finally I handed over the balance I had withheld, the seven pounds for the 'pups,' but I intimated that never again were similar 'pup' scalps to be given me for delivery to the receiver. The 'pup' 'scalps in question had been taken from young pigs, and none but the greatest tyro could have been mistaken in their identity. For months the 'pup' scalps episode was the joke of the district.'— 'Scalper,'

Ridding A Station Of Brumbies

The incident happened before my time, but I have come across the grisly relics of it. Two adjoining stations were separated only by a creek of shallow dimensions, which sufficed to stop the passage of cattle, but had little effect on horses, whether wild or tame. The bane of both stations were herds of brumbies.

For a while the difficulty was met by the simple expedient of each head stockman detailing a couple of men to put them over the creek into the other property whenever they were sighted, but little permanent good came of the arrangement which also threatened to cause ill-feeling.

Eventually both managers decided to exterminate them once and for all. All hands were set to work felling trees and splitting posts and rails out of them. Eventually an enormous yard was constructed, capable of holding a thousand head, and the bosses went down to Adelaide to buy canvas for the wings, nearly two miles of it being eventually used for that purpose. The muster was a magnificent show, and for the best part of two days the brumbies were beaten in and mustered from the back of the runs by constant relays of riders, who allowed the weary creatures no rest. By the time they were yarded, there must have been the best part of six hundred magnificent animals in the confines. Many of the stockmen wanted to pick out an extra fine beast or so and train it, but the bosses were adamant on the question that every one must die, before they enticed saddle horses away, a serious problem in the absence of horse-paddocks. The whole six hundred were promptly shot out of hand, and then came the question of disposing of the bodies. To do that practically every tree for two or three miles around was felled and cut into convenient lengths for hauling, and dozens of fires were lighted to burn the carcases. Unfortunately, the wood ran out before the dead brumbies did, as it took the best part of two tons to burn each one. There was nothing for it but to leave the crows in possession. The yards were only a mile from the homestead, and to windward at that, so both parties moved over the river to the other station to camp for a few weeks until the nuisance abated.

The bosses swore that there would be no repetition of the event, but the advent of another herd of brumbies, driven in from a station further north, forced a second muster. This time there were no outsiders in the hunt, as still tongues were wanted. A couple of hundred were yarded, and the paddocks combed again, practically clearing up the tail with another 50. A race was constructed from the yard, and the bosses took up a position on either side, each armed with a shear-blade. As the horses were driven out through the race, they both struck into the abdomen, and held the blades there until the horse's impetus had practically disembowelled it, and then they were freed. The terror-stricken, pain-maddened beasts galloped for miles in some instances before they fell, and some were seen still alive after a fashion for up to a fortnight. The stockmen, who were not a tender hearted mob, were sickened by the sight, even though it had spared, them the stench of the first clean-up, and refused in a body to ever partake in another such vicious massacre.

Fortunately, there was no necessity. A few days later a Yankee horse buyer came through, and offered 10/ a head for anything on hooves, lack of breaking-in no objection. As this was a standing offer, there was no further trouble in getting rid of the nags, but the two managers kicked themselves for many years over the easy 400-odd pounds they had dropped.— 'Fisher.'

First Sparrows

In The South-East In the long-defunct 'Mount Gambier Standard' of May 12, 1868, appears the following reference to the introduction of sparrows to that part of the State: —

'English sparrows for Mount Gambier.— The readers of the 'Standard' were recently informed that a few sparrows were set at liberty here, and that it was in contemplation to open a subscription list to defray the cost of importing a further number, to be disposed of in a similar manner. We now learn that this has been done, 15 sparrows having been shipped from Melbourne per the steamer Penola on her last trip. Of these, 13 were landed alive at Port MacDonnell, and, after being allowed a short rest at Mount Gambier, they were liberated in Mr. Stapleton's garden, adjoining the telegraph station, on Saturday. The interesting little birds busied themselves in exploring their new domain, and if not molested will, no doubt, make themselves perfectly at home, and, in time, become numerous in the neighborhood.' The previous lot referred to were let go by Messrs. Stapleton and Long, and the contemporary paper of the 'Standard' said:— 'It is gratifying to know that the little bird takes kindly to the Mount.'— 'Tanta Tyga.'

A Sense Of Values

The following story, related by an early settler on the West Coast, gives a glimpse into the sense of values which prevailed in years gone by, and even today in some parts.

Harry and David were sinking a well, and after a considerable amount of energy had been expended water at last began to ooze through. As the digging went on, David who was down below, stopped suddenly to examine some of the rock which he had been shovelling up and of which a large quantity lay around the top of the well. 'Why, Harry!' he exclaimed, 'it's gold!' 'Doesn't matter about that,' said Harry impatiently from the top of the shaft. 'Just you hand me up a mug of that water so I can see whether it's fresh.' David dropped the stone he was examining and handed up a mug of water, which Harry eagerly put to his lips and tasted. 'Hurrah, David!' he exclaimed triumphantly, 'it's fresh! Our fortune's made!' Then, said Harry later, in telling the story, he looked at the gold lying in heaps about his feet, and woke up. — C.Y.A.

Real Life Stories Of South Australia (1936, May 14). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 16. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article92340080