The Collection

MELBOURNE – CITY OF PALACES

“Glimpses of Australia”, Gordon & Gotch, 1896

‘Melbourne has been often described as a “City of Palaces”, and its splendour drew from George Augustus Sala, the alliterative and descriptive title of “Marvellous Melbourne”. The centre of all this architectural marvel is Collins Street, the great thoroughfare of the Victorian capital and one of the finest streets in the world. It extends its broad wood-paved length from the Spencer Street railway station to Spring Street, where the Treasury buildings look down on it. Throughout the whole length is a series of mercantile and financial palaces.

There is the immense pile of the Equitable Insurance building at the corner of Elizabeth Street, claimed to be the finest building in Australasia, the great bank buildings, the imposing Town Hall, the offices of the Argus and the Age, various churches, the Exchange, and a host of other splendid buildings. Up the centre run the double lines of the cable trams, the system brought to such perfection in the Victorian Capital, and which extends far out into the suburbs and binds every part of the city in a mesh of rails and cables. Altogether a magnificent street is Collins Street of “Marvellous Melbourne”.

Warren Fahey sings ‘Ta Ra Land Boom Today’

TA RA LAND BOOM TO-DAY

Marvellous Melbourne once so grand
Is humbled now – quite out of hand,
Her money spent in buying land,
At prices far too good to stand;
The boom is dead you’ll understand,
It is in short a failure grand.
The boom’s decayed – it fades away –
And we sing ta-ra-land-boom-de-ay.

Ta-ra-land-boom-de-ay
Ta-ra-land-boom-de-ay
Ta-ra-land-boom-de-ay
Ta-ra-land-boom-de-ay

But where, oh where’s the money gone
Of millionaires we haven’t one;
The banks have had their biot of fun,
And reconstruction deeds have done,
We’ll banking institutions shun,
And steer aloof from every one.
The vision fades alas away,
And we sing ta-ra-land-boom-de-ay.

We’re told there’s no such word as fail;
The banks have told a different tale,
And everywhere there’s land for sale.
The question’s will we stand the gale,
And who for us will now stand bail? –
Our moneyed men are all in gale,
Diamond cracking, so they say,
And singing ta-ra-land-boom-de-ay

‘Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay’ is a pre-music hall song, first performed in 1891, which became an instant worldwide hit, including Australia. The song was best known in the version sung by Lottie Collins in London music halls in 1892. The song’s authorship was disputed for some years, and was the subject of a lawsuit in the 1930s. It originally appeared credited to Henry J. Sayers, who was the manager of a minstrel troupe and was sung by Mamie Gilroy in a minstrel farce comedy in 1891. However, Sayers later stated that he had not written the song, but had heard it performed in the 1880s by a black singer, Mama Lou, in a well-known St. Louis brothel run by ‘Babe’ Connors.

The 1930s lawsuit decided that the tune and the refrain were in the public domain. Our version, ridiculing Melbourne circa 1890’s, in the wake of the 1870s and 80s goldrush land boom, shows how rapidly popular songs were parodied. The song, echoing the changing times, goes at a racy pace! I recorded a version on ‘Australia: Its Folk Songs & Bush Verse’. (see site General Store)

SATURDAY NIGHT IN BOURKE STREET

The “Australasian Sketcher”, 7 June 1879

To an ordinary student of human nature it must seem quite inexplicable what it is that induces so many thousands of people to walk up and down Bourke-street on every Saturday night. Their surroundings are not always attractive, and that it is not a business which takes them there is perfectly evident. Neither, it would seem, is it curiosity, as they hardly ever stop to look in the shops, and, indeed, the stream of pedestrians is too strong and dense to allow for such delay. Let us walk with the crowd, and, keeping our eyes open, see what are the objects of interest or curiosity which our walk may bring us in contact with. Taking these in the order in which they are depicted by our artist, we have first the “Oyster Stall”, where excellent oysters are retailed to customers at the very reasonable rate of 6d. per dozen. What would the epicures of London, where the bivalve has become an almost unapproachable luxury for all but millionaires, think of that?

For those who prefer a humbler kind of refreshment here is the “Seller of Trotters”, who generally succeeds in getting rid of a basketful of his wares in the course of an evening. But here, in the next scene, we are introduced to high science. We visit “The Phrenologist”, who informs the admiring and believing crowd that he will tell them their characters for the modest remuneration of Is. each, or give them a written chart for is 6d. “Some,” says this orator, “are intended by nature for thought, others for action, others for the senate. You, for instance,” addressing the unpromising-looking subject whose “bumps” he is manipulating, “are adapted for higher work than you are doing. You are not content with your position.” “No,” says his patient, “I would ‘chuck it up’ to-morrow if I could.” “Just what I say,” proceeds the man of science. “Phrenology cannot err in saying this is an intellectual mind, or this an animal mind, any more than my eyes can deceive me when they assure me that that is a large house, and that a small one. Just so with – ” but by this time we have got out of hearing, and are next watching some brightly-attired ladies, with gentlemen in evening dress, passing across the pavement, on the way from their carriage “To the Opera”.

A little lower down the street, at a brisk business corner, stands the fine “Coffee Stall” here depicted, and which, with its clean crockery, bright and steaming kettles, and brilliant and friendly glare of lamp-lights, offers a very hospitable greeting to anyone desirous of the mild stimulant of a cup of coffee. Next we visit a dense and attentive crowd near the Eastern Market, where several noisy orators try to out-power each other by force of lungs in their appeals to the public for custom.

One is a “Seller of Adhesive Cement” of wondrous properties, which is warranted to mend broken glass and china neater and stronger than before it was broken. Then we have a noisy self-assertive “Cheap Jack”, who, with his coat and waistcoat off, stands up between two smoking and flaring lights to force his wares on the public by eloquence, and flattery, and rough humour. Finally, we come to the “Grog Analyst”, who stands at a raised table, on which he has several bottles of various contents, and with these, with much scientific exposition, mingled with fearfully sarcastic gibes at the chemists, the brewers, and the distillers, undertakes to explain the manufacture of all kinds of spirits out of one original, with various flavourings and colouring mixtures. He will sell you a handbill explaining the whole process, by which you can make your own cognac, blue ruin, poteen, or old Jamaica, just as you wish it. These are a few of the amusing and often grotesque aspects presented by Bourke-street on a Saturday night.

DOING THE BLOCK

Fergus Hume, “The Mystery of a Hansom Cab”, Melbourne, 1886

It was Saturday morning, and fashionable Melbourne was “doing the Block”. Collins Street is to the Southern City what Bond Street and the Row are to London, and the Boulevards to Paris. It is on the Block that people show off their new dresses, bow to their friends, cut their enemies, and chatter small talk. . . .

Carriages were bowling smoothly along, their occupants smiling and bowing as they recognised their friends on the side walk. Lawyers, their legal quibbles finished for the week, were strolling leisurely with their black bags in their hands; portly merchants, for- getting Flinders Lane and incoming ships, walked beside their pretty daughters; and the representatives of swelldom were stalking along in their customary apparel of curly brimmed hats, high collars and immaculate suits. Altogether it was a pleasant and animated scene.

Goodbye Melbourne Goodbye Melbourne Town. Melbourne Town goodbye; I am leaving you today, For a land so far away; Though today I’m stoney broke, Without a single crown, If I make my fortune I’ll come back and spend it, In dear old Melbourne Town. SOURCE Mrs Peg Collins, Perth 1974. Fahey Collection

Adelaide often gets a bad rap – the ‘city of churches’ implies boredom and a strictness not associated with other capital cities. The fact is, that South Australia was a colonial experiment for it was the only colony not to have convicts. In truth, it saw itself as a semi-utopian society, an educated and progressive one and, looking at its history, it deserved the status. But before we start, here’s a self-penned song sung by Dave Moss – a genuine ‘croweater’.

Here are some titbits about the land of the Croweaters.

The first reference to ‘croweaters’ appeared in the Maitland Mercury 19 Feb. 1874, but the report talks as if the term was already well established in South Australia.

‘CROW-EATERS.’

origin of term

Most people can provide satisfactory explanations of how the term ‘Cornstalks’ (N.S.W.), ‘Sandgropers (W.A.), ‘Cabbage Gardeners’ (Vic) and ‘Kanakas’ Qlds)) , were first applied, but the  term ‘Croweaters,’ as applied to South Australians, has puzzled many people.  However, ‘Clay Pan Joe,’ in The Murenison Times, supplies what is probably the correct solution. He writes: — ‘In regard to the term ‘crow-eaters, applied to South Australians, writers, in referring to the appellation, state their opinions as to how the term first came to be applied, but so far the reasons appear to be mere guesses. The following is the most feasible explanation, and I believe, the correct one:— In 1851 my father and uncle travelled overland to the Bendigo diggings.

On their arrival, they were accosted with the words, ‘some crow-eaters.’ It appeared that a short time before they arrived, a party of South Australians had arrived in a very hard-up state, being without food and looking very much knocked up. While crossing the 90-mile desert, they ran out of tucker and were forced to shoot crows for food, as nothing better could be obtained. On relating their experiences, they were dubbed the ‘crow-eaters.’ The term was afterwards applied to every new arrival from the central State.

SOURCE

The Register (Adelaide) 15 March  1927.

CROWEATERS

Speaking of Mr. Talbot Smith’s query about the origin of the  term ‘croweaters’ for South Australians. a correspondent has made the following suggestion: —

In the late ‘nineties and early years of this century, he employed the late Harry Hamp and his wife, and from him, he got the following story of the origin of the term.  In the gold rush days, Hamp was one of a party making for the Victorian diggings and one night they overtook a party of Cornish miners who invited them to share their meal of ‘rookie’ pasty. Deceived by the likeness of the crow to the rook of the old country and remembering the rook pies they had eaten, they had shot a number of crows and made pasties of them.  The story was told at the diggings.  and South Australians on the field were dubbed ‘croweaters.’ Harry Hamp arrived in South Australia in 1838 as a youngster in the Duke of Roxburgh. His father was killed by the blacks at Waterloo Bay a ghastly feature of the killing being the finding of his head in the camp oven in his hut. 

SOURCE

The Mail. Adelaide. 19 June 1943

THE ‘ WALRUS  

A fortnight ago I discussed in this column the nick-names bestowed on residents of the various  Australian colonies, by the people  of the other Australian colonies, before we were joined together in  an “indissoluble union.” If one may judge by the number of letters received the subject aroused considerable interest among Walrusites  One correspondent assures me that the term “crow-eater” as applied to South Australians was based on actual fact. He says that a during the disastrous seasons and low prices for wheat “sometime in the nineties” the farmers in the middle and upper north of South Australia were reduced to the extremity of killing and eating crows and very little else. Presumably the “very little else” included boiled wheat—that standby of the “poor cocky” in the days of his great adversity.

Another correspondent traces the evolution of “pommy” through various stages beginning with the introduction of considerable numbers of British migrants to the rural districts. He was then in the backblocks of Western Australia, and the newcomers were first spoken of as immigrants, and then, through the medium of rhyming slang which the Austranlian shares with the Cockney, this was converted into Jimmy Grants.  This, in turn became pommy grants, which may, he admits, though with some reserve, have been suggested by the resemblance 1 of their bright complexions to the pomegranate. In the country districts in those days he never once heard the abbreviated version “pommy”—that came later, and by then he had become an urban dweller.

Let “Peri-od,” a gum-sucker, speak for herself because she speaks as one having the authority of first-hand knowledge:

Dear Walrus,–Concerning the nick-name “Gumsucker” for people born in Victoria – does it mean “simpleton or fool”? Not on your life. The name has only happy memories for me. Having lived as a child in different country districts where my father taught school I am certain that the gum referred to is wattle gum. And Victorians certainly did suck it.  Early settlers and their children, living far from sweet shops, were.; attracted by the clear amber blobs of gum on the young wattle trees long before chewing gum was in vented. As children we collected the sticky half-dried beads of gum and used them as jewellery on our dolls’ hats and frocks; sometimes even as decorations on our own pinafores. We dried small round drops and long clear trickles and sold them as lollies and barley sugar in our make believe shops. Dark brown issues from the joints of old trees were sold as toffee. And everyone sucked the gum.-“PERI-OD”

Then there is this reminiscent letter from “Old Timer” ‘Wooroloo), who also may claim the authority that the Scriptures impliedly deny the “scribe”:

“Croweaters” got their name on the old Bendigo gold diggings in the early gold-rush.. The South Australians, overlanding in bullock wagons, etc, from Adelaide, were very short of meat, so they shot the crows and ate them. Finding them very good eating they continued the practice on the field.  Crows ‘were plentiful and easy to get. My dad was among the crowd, and being a ‘crow’ or ‘white eye’ myself I have always carried this explanation in my memory.

“Re Sandgroper: The early-day teamsters (WA) consisted of farmers from York, Toodyay, Northam, Greenhills, etc. These were never known to carry a shovel, and. when the wheels of their wagons were bogged in the sand the teamster got on his knees and cleared away the sand with his hands. Hence the name ‘Sand groper’ which was given him by the ‘t’othersider.’

“Also ‘tinned dog’ derived its name from Conrad’s tinned meat, an Adelaide product. One day a teamster discovered a piece of skin with hair on, which had accidentally got into the tin, and that started the name ‘tinned dog’ – as he swore it was a piece of dog’s tail. From these humble origins, the names spread and were soon adopted by most of the early-day goldfield residents. I know because I was through it all.  “Funniest thing of the lot to the goldfielder was that when the Kalgoorlie clock was erected the first thing the chimes said was ‘tin dog,’ repeating the sound four times before striking, and it is  the same to this day.

“In regard to Bananalander, if my memory serves me right, the ‘Bulletin’ coined the word and always used it when referring to  Queensland or the residents of that State. Also, Maoriland for New Zealand. Anyhow. what’s in a name?”

“Old Timer” has dug from the recesses of his memory two other names, and adds the comment:  “perhaps these are better left out.”  I have never met them before and they look innocuous enough, but you never know. They might offend the delicate susceptibilities of Walrusites, so “perhaps they  are better left out.”  

And here is a letter which tells another story – or rather a series of them: As a dyed-in-the-wool Gumsucker from the South Gippsland bush, I would like to say that a Gumsucker is not a person who sucks gum, but a gum ‘sapling’. Had you ever been privileged to visit or live in the gullies where they grow, you would appreciate the slender beauty of these suckers, straight and slim and clean, growing among their families, tap roots deep in the soil and heads held high, always ambitious to reach the sun and curious to have a look at what is “over the hill?” We don’t want to be cabbage gardeners! I enclose a copy of an anonymous scrap which rather nicely expresses the characteristics of the Gumsucker.

“The Cornstalks are also very self-expressive. But the Croweaters! I did hear that a man in SA who was very mean used to cook crows for anyone who visited him, so that they would not come again. This happened to a travelling Englishman, who thought it was the usual custom, so named the SA’s ‘Croweaters’. As you probably know ‘eating crow’ is a term sometimes used when a person makes wild accusations against other people and has to retract publicly, and comes out of it with complete loss of personal dignity.  I haven’t heard of SA doing that.  “It is a pity the Sandgropers did not wake up early enough to give themselves a better name.  There is so much that is distinctive and exclusive to Western Australia. But ‘who shall awaken a giant when he sleepeth’?”-  Yours eucalyptically, 

PS.-A nasty little (brain) cellmate just jogged my elbow and muttered, “A lot of people used to call the South Gippslanders “Mudpunchers.” How “mudist” we used to be!

This is the anonymous verse to which M.I.A. refers in her interesting letter:

In Gippsland’s forest glades, heads lifted high, 

Victoria’s gums in pillared beauty stand 

Cathedral columns, pointing to the sky, 

All planted there by God’s almighty hand.

In splendid grandeur, each majestic bole,  

From roots firmly bedded in the clayey sod, 

Grows straight, clean, and true, as though its soul 

Was reaching ever upward up to God.

Here are the Ancients of the yesteryears,

But living still, this world of ours

A shelter for each sapling as it rears

Its leafy head to the ethereal space.

These Gumsuckers, the symbol of our land,

They, too will grow to greatness, straight and true,

So may these people ever understand

The way to greatness, as these suckers do.

With this beautiful picture of the Gumsucker before us, we

Sandgropers, Croweaters and Cornstalks may well join in the

Lament:

Of all the sad words of tongue and pen,

The saddest are these: “It might have been”

SOURCE

The West Australian – Perth, 24 Feb 1945

AUSTRALIAN CAPITAL TERRITORY (ACT) – CANBERRA

A good sheep station ruined!

What’s more to say about the cursed place?