John Carins
know as Dryblower Jack
John was born in Newcastle on Tyne, in Northumberland, England in 1890 and was educated at Rutherford College in that town. He was said to have come to Australia in 1913, he had a discharge certificate from the British services. As a young man, he worked in various trades including sandalwood cutting. He married a widow with four children, but the marriage failed and he then moved to the Goldfields in search of gold. Jack purchased a dry blower for £4 and it was said he was highly skilled in the art of dry blowing, so skilled in fact that the School of Mines would send students out to his camp for instruction.
He had a wonderful intellect and a great sense of humour and a love of children. He was also a gifted poet and would recite at the drop of a hat. He was essentially a hermit but by no means lonely. Each day he would ride on his bicycle and pedal around the bush looking for a likely prospect. He built himself a camp on the Three Mine Hill where Herald Resources pegged their claim in later years. It was made of corrugated iron and bush timber. He paved round his hut with old bricks and planted flowers everywhere. he called his camp ‘Belsen’.
John Carins Camp
Jack died on 1 Jul 1971 and is buried in the Coolgardie Cemetery, he was 81. He was injured accidentally by falling from his bike at the rail crossing just near Coolgardie on the way back to his camp. He was badly hurt and was taken to the Coolgardie Hospital. He couldn’t stand the bright electric light and the bustling nurses so he discharged himself and returned to his camp. There he composed a letter to his sister in England then went out in the bush and blew his head off with a stick of gelignite.
A PLEA FOR MERCY
By John Carins
We watched the herds increasing, unchecked as years went by
Now their halcyon days are ended for the wild horse herds must die.
They have strayed upon the highways so the callous road hogs say
To remove this equine menace we must sweep the herds away.
So one and all must fall before the gunshots fiery blast
For the horses’ day is ended; his usefulness is past.
A band of eager hunters is gathered for the fray
For the old blood lust still lingers in the hearts of men today.
And they welcome this occasion to test their murderous skill
On the poor defenceless Brumbies which have never done them ill
The sires and dams and playful foals so innocent and free
Each one must fall the victim to the deadly three-o-three.
For the edict has been issued that the whole unbroken lot
Must be slain by hired assassins and their bodies left to rot.
They drank our loaming water and spoilt each cycle track
But we still forgave the Brumbies when we cast our memories back
To the days when men came questing, an avid human tide
To reap the golden harvest from fields new found and wide.
In those days we chased the rainbow’s end o’er many a desert track
And the hardy little Brumbies took us there and brought us back.
Well and faithfully they served us in cart and heavy dray
So we make our plea for mercy for the Brumby herds today.
We won’t long survive their passing; our race too is nearly run
And soon we’ll find our long last rest beyond the setting sun.
But still while one of us remains upon this earth below
It won’t be wise for one who shared this crime to let him know
Or he’ll hear his ancestry imputed by an old Australian word
Should he dare to boast about the time he shot the Brumby herd.
John’s camp still exists today although it suffered some severe damage in the recent storms. The camp is how he left it with some of his furniture still there. A few years ago it was said that his false teeth were still in a glass by his bed but have since disappeared. Just beside the camp is a native Eremophila tree which Jack fondly called his ‘Christmas Tree’. Each Christmas he would hang all sorts of bits and pieces from the tree which he found in the bush, he said they were ‘presents from god’, and the kids loved it.
From notes by Jack Tree and West Australian Bush Poets
John Carins with his dryblower 1969
John Carins in his camp 1969
Jack Carins in his camp
Moya Sharp
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Wonderful stories dear Moya. I look forward to them in my email every Sunday.🙏…God Bless