4 February 1937

WHEN STONE WALLS DID NOT A PRISON MAKE 

Romantic History Of Old Robe Gaol

Visitors to Robe have often been entertained with fantastic stories regarding the old gaol, now represented by a very small portion of what it once was. Some present-day residents go so far as to say that it was built by convicts for the housing of convicts whilst serving their sentences: but there is no truth in that assertion.

The building had a much more prosaic origin. For about fifteen years after the settlement of the South-East all prisoners had to be sent to Adelaide for trial, and even those guilty of misdeameanors had to go there to serve their sentences. All witnesses had to be sent to Adelaide, too, at Government expense. Hence the agitation for a local gaol. It is on record that a man at Mount Gambier, who was awarded a month in gaol for leaving his master's employ, was sent to do his term in Adelaide at a cost of about £14. 

The cost of the gaol at Robe was placed on the Estimates in 1859, and in the early part of that year the sheriff went to Robe to select a suitable site for the building, and nearly got into the hands of the police him self. A warrant was out for the arrest of an absconder, and the description of him supplied to the police tallied with that of the sheriff. Both the sheriff and the absconder had booked berths in the Ant, which was due to sail for Port Adelaide. The police had taken possession of the sheriff's luggage, and were on their way to his cabin to arrest him when their mistake was pointed out to them. 

Tenders were called for the first portion of the gaol, including a small receiving yard, cells, and the keeper's residence, towards the end of 1859. Mr. George Hailes being the successful tenderer, and the early part of 1860 saw the walls well on the way. In the papers of those days the site is described as about a quarter of a mile from the town, and near the point on which the obelisk stands. This reference also fixes the approximate date of the erection of the obelisk, about which even the oldest inhabitants of the seaside town have but the faintest idea. The obelisk was not painted with alternate red and white stripes till some years later. This was done owing to the difficulty of distinguishing it from the adjacent landscape. 

Two of the employes of Mr. Hailes were Sandy Park, the father of Mrs. Adam Lindsay Gordon, and Levi Cooper, her first sweetheart. So some of Robe's real romances shine, so to speak, in the ruins of the old gaol. 

While the building was in course of erection such shoddy work was being put into the walls that a civil servant called attention to it, and although this resulted in some improvement, the final result was not very satisfactory. Two of the early prisoners picked their way through the walls with a hook made from a light window fastening. They were soon caught, however, and their escape led to the reinforcement of the outer walls of the cells with boiler plates, some of which can be seen to this day. These are said to have come from the ill fated Admella, wrecked at Carpenter's Rocks a few years before. 

The inconvenience of sending prisoners from Mount Gambier to Robe for trial and to serve their sentences soon prompted that town to ask for a gaol of its own. When Parliament began to give it favorable consideration, members spoke of closing the Robe institution even as early as 1862, but counter petitions prevailed, and it remained open until 1870. It was, however, reopened in 1872 and remained open until 1881, when it was finally closed. 

In the meantime Mount Gambier got a gaol of its own, for which tenders were called in the latter part of 1863, but it was anything but large enough for local requirements. 

The first prisoners in the old Robe gaol were two blackfellows, who were charged with stealing another aborigine's lubra. Their names were Long Jimmy and Sailor Tommy. They attempted to escape by assaulting the gaoler, Mr. George Tims, with a stick. He stuck to Jimmy, but Tommy got away. He was, however, eventually recaptured at Begg's Canunda station, near Lake Bonney. 

As showing the difficulties of transporting prisoners to Mount Gambier for trial, for Robe had no Circuit Court, the following extract from the Press, dated November 1, 1862, is illuminating:— 

Circuit Courts were eventually held at both places. When the gaol was built at Mount Gambier Mr. Tims was given charge of it, and Mr. Bradshaw Young was placed in charge of that at Robe. 

Some of those who have attempted to write up the History of the Robe gaol speak of murderers being hanged there. No murderer, let alone the plural number, ever expiated his crime there. A gallows was certainly taken there from Mount Gambier for the purpose of hanging a man who had killed his wife, but he feigned mad ness and was taken to Adelaide for examination. His sentence was subsequently commuted to imprisonment for life, but he did not live very long to serve it. 

When the old gaol was in charge of a Mr. Featherstone, a Greek named George Cateola escaped by assaulting the gaoler. He hit him on the chest with the flat of the head of an axe, the handle striking him on the face and dazing him. While he was in this condition the prisoner escaped. Cannon were fired, and all stations throughout the district were notified by wire, but although the search was prosecuted with diligence and vigor, no tidings of Cateola could be had. Some months afterwards, however, his body was found in Lake Eliza by two young men who had gone there to bathe. It was in a perfectly preserved condition, due to the excessive salinity of the waters of the lake. The body was not petrified, as some writers put it, but just 'pickled.' 

A large portion of the old building has been used by the local district council for road-making purposes, and the councillors were about to deal with what remained in the same way when great pity to have destroyed even so it was saved. It would have been a small a portion of a building with such romantic associations, and it is now a real asset to the old-time town.— 'Tanta Tyga.'

Paddy, The Horse King 

Many years ago the name of Paddy Lenny was known throughout the length and breadth of the Northern Territory as the uncrowned horse king of the north. 

Paddy never owned an acre of land throughout the whole of his life. He worked on the simple socialistic theory that the Territory would do him for a horse paddock. Mention of his name is still sufficient to make old station managers froth and foam at the mouth. 

His simple system was to carry his stock from one water-hole to the next. Nobody ever knew just how many horses Paddy owned, but there was a fairly wide-spread theory that he could have forded the Murray anywhere, if he had ever got so far by simply letting his beasts drink the river dry before them. What a visit from Paddy meant in the thick of the 'Dry' can only be visualised by those who have tried to husband the last of their water for their own dying cattle. 

The origin of Paddy's herd is lost in mystery. He certainly was not a horse-duffer. In all probability he originally bought a few hacks some where and used them to round up some of the thousands of brumbies that overflowed into the Territory from Queensland. Once furnished with the nucleus of his Tartar herd, Paddy simply bred from them, and collected odd brumbies from time to time which happened to take his fancy. 

He made a practice of branding everything fairly early, not so much as a precaution against theft, but as a counter measure against irate station managers, who were likely to shoot any unbranded horse on sight. Occasionally he would break in an odd horse or two, but he was never known to sell one. What he lived on is best known to himself. 

Eventually Lenny died intestate, leaving the Public Curator a difficult problem to tackle in administering the estate. Paddy had no companions on his endless round of the waterholes, so that his collection of stallions, mares, foals and brumbies simply dispersed in all directions at his death.

 Some of them drifted on to various homesteads and joined the station horses. Others went bush and swelled the ranks of the innumerable brumbies already running wild. Stockmen were specially engaged at different times and places to muster up sections of Paddy ' Lenny's' herd. ' They were brought in in batches of ten and twenty and sold off, until the Curator became thoroughly fed up with the whole business and gave it up as a bad job. 

Others did not, however, and many a man has secured a fine hack by rounding up an odd stray for his own use. To the present day, horses bearing Lenny's brand are still fairly common all over the Territory. Outside of Central Asia, Paddy Lenny probably holds the world's record for a permanent collection of horses held together under nomadic conditions. 

Even then, he was surpassed on one occasion by a Queenslander, whose name tradition has not preserved. This man made a sweep down from the gulf country to the New South Wales border, collecting close upon two thousand wild horses, which were broken in on the trip. He overlanded them south, disposing of the entire herd in Adelaide, Melbourne and Sydney for high prices, as army remounts happened to be scarce and dear for both the home and Indian market at the time. He is said to have retired on his profits, while his expenses amounted to flour and corn junk for himself and two black boys.— 'Alpha.' 

An Historical Mix-Up 

At school we were taught that Central Mount Stuart is in the centre of Australia. Actually it is some considerable distance from the centre, but is probably near enough for most practical purposes. It was discovered in 1859 by John McDouall Stuart, a former second in command to Sturt in 1844-5. 

In the Mitchell Library in Sydney are some journals kept by Stuart, which have never been published. In these he declares that he had always been a great admirer of his old commander Sturt, and was firmly determined to name some prominent feature after him. 

Stuart describes in some detail the discovery of the mountains beyond the Finke, and elaborates on the arrangements made to check up the latitude and longitude of the MacDonnell Ranges, with a view to determining the geographical centre of the continent. 

The spur determined upon he definitely named Central Mount Sturt, and in doing so records his appreciation of the many kindnesses he had received from that explorer. Just how the same hill turns up later in history as Central Mount Stuart is hard to determine. At first glance it looks like a printer's error, the spelling of the names being so similar. 

This supposition is ruled out, however, by the fact that Stuart in his second version of his journal, altered the spelling in his own handwriting. It was that second copy of his journal that was subsequently published. Evidently Stuart repented of his earlier intention to name the hill after Sturt, and took advantage of an accidental similarity in names to do what he could easily have done in the first place, by naming the feature after himself.— 'Fisher's Ghost.'

When Larrikin Gangs Roamed Adelaide's Streets 

Many people will, no doubt, recall the gangs of youths that used to roam about Adelaide and suburbs. At one time there were at least a dozen mobs, as they were termed, that congregated in various parts of the city.

 Before the Great War there was a powerful gang in West Adelaide, known as the King-hit Mob. It was the boast of its members that they had met and defeated every other gang then in existence. The title 'King-hit' meant that a blow from one of the lads would be a knock out for his rival. 

These larrikins kept the police extremely busy, for almost daily word would reach the City Watch-house that some citizen had been molested by them. 

One night there was a pitched battle on the Victoria Park racecourse, when the old rivals, the King-hitters and the East-Enders, met. The dispute began over a girl, and the youths fought ferociously with sticks, stones and even bottles. During the affray a shot was fired, and next morning a cow was found dead. 

The fight had been in progress for half an hour before the police were informed, and they conveyed six of the participants to hospital. 

As each side claimed a victory, it was decided to continue the battle the following night on the West Park Lands. About 100 youths were engaged in the affray, when the police again intervened. This time the outlaws turned on the officers. Batons were drawn, and the larrikins scattered in all directions. Only eight arrests were made. 

Cliques of this description are still a menace in the eastern States, but they have, fortunately, disappeared from Adelaide.— A.D. 

Woke Up To Find His Bedding Eaten 

A drover, during the 1914 drought, camped alone one night on the banks of the Murray, near a little patch of scrub, and spread his rug on a bed of green leaves. The bushes about were practically the only feed in the locality, and these had been stripped of their leaves as high as stock could reach. 

Towards morning he was awakened by a munching and tugging around him, and, sitting up in alarm, he startled half a dozen half-starved wallabies, that had been eating his bed. They retreated, only a few yards, being almost tame with hunger, and sat there, staring, at him with a pleading, wistful look in their gazelle-like eyes. But the most appealing of all was a little 'joey,' peering out of Its mother's pouch. 

'That settled it,' said the drover, in relating the incident; 'I rolled my blankets up and let the poor brutes have the mattress for breakfast.' — J.R. 

Ambathalla Picnic Races 

How many outback race clubs can show a profit of £150 as the result of one day's racing? Ambathalla, in Queensland, has been a great standby to the Charleville ambulance, and on one occasion provided £500 for the funds of that organisation. 

Now fast dying out, the Ambathalla picnic meeting represents the old time shearing-shed races and dance. At the cut-out we find paddocked horses, which are auctioned through the yard. The shed is cleaned by the 'rousies,' a generator and lights are rigged by willing hands, the board is decorated, and the cook and his offsider range themselves behind a 'mile of tucker.' Willing wool-lorry men bring out the grog and 'eats' free, and drag the race track. There is a town orchestra, and the leading publican runs the 'bar.' The wool bin becomes a ladies' dressing-room, and there is fun and good fellowship everywhere. 

At the races it is no uncommon thing to find the favorite 'weighted out' with 60 lb. overweight; and the bookies yell their odds with just as much gusto as at Flemington. 

And dusto! It is a sight to gladden the old bushman's heart to see that bunch of horses followed by a clouded trail of dust. It takes a meeting such as this to show how generous a giver the real bushman is. And he lives for the next twelve months ready and willing to give again, because it's for the ambulance.— F.G. 

'Stolen' Sheep That Returned 

About 20 years ago, whilst I was managing a property in Western Queensland, a mounted constable paid us an unexpected visit. After a few commonplace remarks, the trooper enquired if there were any strange sheep running in the property. The enquiry was greeted with a laugh from a stockman standing by. It was quite an excusable offence, seeing that no sheep had ever existed on the property. 

However, the constable informed us that he was endeavoring to trace a mob of 3,000 sheep that had been reported as having been stolen from a station in another district. 

He said that the boundary rider in charge of the paddocks in which the 3,000 sheep had been running, had seen signs of where the fence had been opened, and the sheep taken out. Owing to rain having washed out the tracks, he was unable to follow them up, but had ridden in and notified the owner of the loss. 

The stockman with me knew the station and the owner well, and suggested to the constable that it was almost an impossibility for the sheep to have been taken out of the district without someone having seen them. 'Any reward offered for the recovery of the sheep?' asked the stockman. On being told that there was not, he lost all interest, and walked away. 

Later, after the evening meal, the constable asked the stockman why he was interested in a reward, thinking that, maybe, he knew more than he cared to say about the theft. 

'I know the paddock where those sheep were supposed to be stolen from as well as the next man,' answered the stockman, 'and if there had been a decent reward offered, I would have turned in my job here and found the sheep.'  Pausing for a few seconds, the stockman continued, 'That paddock is scrub and more scrub, and I'll bet that a decent muster would prove that the sheep are still there.' 

The trooper went his way next day, and I forgot all about the sheep until a week or ten days later, when the mailman told of the great joke. Taking the boundary-rider's word for granted, that the sheep had been stolen, the owner got in touch with the law, and never even bothered to make an investigation. 

It was a surprised owner, who, a fortnight after the reported theft, was advised by a neighbor that his lost sheep must have come home again. The neighbor, whilst riding along his boundary fence, had seen hundreds of sheep in the paddock, supposed to have been cleaned out. A thorough muster brought to light the 3,000 sheep, and, incidentally, brought about the sack of the boundary-rider.— 'Drover.'