A Case of Emu – a true story

This story was related by Clarence ‘Clarrie’ Frank MAKIN

We were sitting on a bench outside the Grand Hotel (Kookynie), idly watching Horace, the emu, scratching around the yard. ‘Snowy’ Bruce, the hotel publican, was saying why we couldn’t have a dance to raise funds for the school, – ‘There ain’t enough sheilas, but what about putting Horace in a beer case and raffling him as “A Case of Emu”? We won’t mention beer, just “a Case of Emu”.’

Horace

Horace

So we printed tickets,

To be raffled in aid of the
Kookynie State School Sports FundAssociation.
ONE CASE OF EMU, (donated by P J Fitzpatrick),
two shillings a ticket.

Paddy Fitzpatrick, a rather eccentric prospector at Niagara a few miles away didn’t know
about it, mainly because we didn’t tell him! I had the job of M.C.ing and the hall was set for a crowning evening in the social on the calendar.


The draw was timed for 9.30. Ten o’clock came and Snowy had not arrived, and an hour
later, in desperation, I drew the raffle, won by Blue Bennetts and his wife. They
operated a small two-head ore battery on the outskirts of town. I let them in to the
secret and they laughed and said it was alright, they would buy a case of beer and invite
everybody over.
An hour after that, a commotion at the door heralded Snowy’s arrival, slowly pushing a
trolley with a large beer case covered with wet bags, to keep the beer cool. He whips off
the bags and Horace’s head and neck emerge. And he surveys the hall; laughter all round,
tinged with annoyance, but that was soon dissipated. Horace makes for the door,
forgetting the glassy surface of the dance floor. Feathers flying, legs askew, eyes
bulging, he skates all over the hall and disappears into the night.
Later on at the bar I said to Snowy, ‘What made you so late?’ ‘Well’, he said, ‘I got Tommy and Jack Hobbs to help me catch Horace. Imagine me with my gammy leg, and two drunks chasing an emu round the yard in pitch dark over props and crates. Tommy cornered him, but retired hurt, claiming Horace kicked him in the jaw, and finally I looked one way and jumped the other and got him in a neck hold. Then we couldn’t get him all into the crate at the same time.’

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My name is Moya Sharp, I live in Kalgoorlie Western Australia and have worked most of my adult life in the history/museum industry. I have been passionate about history for as long as I can remember and in particular the history of my adopted home the Eastern Goldfields of Western Australia. Through my website I am committed to providing as many records and photographs free to any one who is interested in the family and local history of the region.

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