Dolly Pot – The Roaring Gimblet

OVER THE PLATES.
The Roaring Gimblet.

Dear “Non-com.”- Just a chapter or two out of my own life story on the goldfields in ’94, when everything was new! by Su Hug Bardoc

In June, or July, ’94, my mate, Cumrae-Stewart, myself, and two others went from Coolgardie, to what today is known as Goongarrie, but then as the 90-Mile, or the Roaring Gimblet, to man some leases for a Groper syndicate, Alex. Forrest, Neil McNeil, and Marmion being members of it. We went by spring cart, pulled by a couple of horses. When we arrived at the 90, we found it a busy little centre, with various business places, trading being carried on in big tents or hessian shacks. They included a chemist, baker, butcher, chaff merchant, and several stores, not forgetting the usual hop-beer bar and a tinsmith.

One of the stores was a branch of a Coolgardie firm, Askin and Nicholson. Nicholson had two brothers, Bob and Hope, who in later years were mine managers on the Golden Mile. The manager for this firm in the 90 was Harry Gregory, who later became Mayor of Menzies and the first M.L.A. for the district. Harry had to put up some big election fights to hold the seat but always won by a nose. Once he was counted out, but, won on an appeal. For close to ten years he was Minister for Mines. He is still doing his bit as one of our representatives in Canberra.

Askin & Nicholson was the local Post Office and general store in the Old Goongarrie townsite in 1895 – Coolgardie Pioneer 5 Feb 1896

I was but a mere youth when in the 90. One day I was standing outside Harry’s store looking at a bag of sprouting onions. He must have been eyeing me off, for he came forward and said, “Eat plenty of onion sprouts, and you will never get the fever, lad.” At no time did I fancy onion sprouts, and I did not take his advice, and so far I have dodged eating them, and dodged the fever, too. It’s a long time since I was offered the above advice, but, every time I see sprouting onions, I somehow associate Harry with them.

Unusually, there was no hotel there in those days. Later two sprung up, the first licensee being Arthur Williams, the first man to be married in Coolgardie. He ran the hotel with his wife Clara nee Saunders.

Our little party soon got to work on the leases. They were close to a big, dry salt lake, which is. not far from the townsite and close to a big blow, still called Mullagong Blow. The syndicate did not keep us employed for many months, and we never saw a colour of gold on the job.

Tinnion & Myhill – 90 Mile Store

My mate and the boss went back to Coolgardie per buckboard mail coach. We followed on per team. On our return journey, when we reached Canegrass Swamp (12 miles), we saw someone had erected a condensing plant on the edge of the swamp (which was dry). As we were passing, a man approached us, and said: “Any of you fellows, want a job?” I was the only willing one, as I was anxious to make a cheque and go home east. I did not reckon what I was falling into. My new boss was a big German, named Troutman (Adolph Peter Trautman). I had to do a 12-hour shift, 12 midnight to 12 noon. For months after I finished with the job I could hear the midnight call of the boss, “Tim, it’s twelve o’clock.”

My new job was hard, cut and cart wood for the boiler on my shoulders, attend fires, sell water, etc. A few weeks later the boss went to Coolgardie to buy a horse and cart, and obtain stores, not forgetting a few cases of Usher’s whisky (all the go then), which he retailed at 1 shilling per nip. Sly-grog selling was quite common on the fields in those roaring days. I have heard some roaring, but it was “Usher” roaring.

During the boss’s absence in Coolgardie, I5 miles away, I was standing by the condenser and saw two men approaching on riding camels, followed by an Afghan leading some pack camels. One of the men asked me the price of water. I told him and he said he thought it would be cheaper to water at the 90. He informed me they were going prospecting and asked me if I knew of any auriferous country close handy. I mentioned the 90 further on. Some days later I saw the same man speeding past. I cried out: “Did you find anything?” “Yes,” he said, “I’m off to take it up.” (meaning register it).

This man was Menzies who had discovered the Lady Shenton goldmine.

A few days later the rush set in to the new find, Menzies. In my mind’s eye, I can again see him riding by, wearing a straw decker hat with a striped band. A tragedy occurred on the job a few days later. A poor saddle marked brumby blew in famished for water. The well where we got our saltwater was only ten feet deep and beside the boilers and tanks, the horse smelt the fresh water and made for the well. Try as I would I could not keep the suffering creature back. The poor beggar was welcome to a drink, but I was unable to reach the bucket and water in time. He made a rush and fell into the well, nearly taking me with him.

My boss was back in a day or so. Meanwhile, the body swelled in the well. By this time it looked as big as an elephant. When the boss saw it he became the colour of a saveloy and saw red. A rush on and no water, plant hung up and poor me was the cause of it all by letting a horse fall down an enclosed well, etc. ect.

The next day I put my swag on a team Coolgardie bound but unfortunately, I made a mistake. I should have gone instead to the new find. Sometime later Trautman sold this plant to Bob Howe who later got a wayside licence which existed at the swamp long after the Menzies railroad was built.

The early months of ’95 were about as busy a time as Coolgardie, 25 mile, 45, Canegrass, Ninety, and Menzies ever had. A thriving township had started at Menzies, and teams were arriving daily. I did two trips with mining material to the Lady Shenton and I have no recollection of being unduly pushed for water.

Yours faithfully – SU-HUG, Bardoc.

If you are interested, these two volumes are full of Dolly Pot stories, photographs, and poetry that will delight any reader. Both books are available through Hesperian Press and will be enjoyed by all who love a good story.