Western Mail 12 November 1936, page 11
Microbe of the Murchison
He was a peculiar looking man of medium height, with long legs and hunched back. His voice was squeaky and high pitched, and he could turn his hand to anything but he liked being a cook the best of all. He had wandered around the Eastern Fields for a long time and he was getting fed up with it. He wanted to get a job where he could settle down for a bit. He didn’t care what it was. His real name was John Morgan, but he was always called
“Microbe” Everyone called him that, and he took no offence.
He was making his way from the Kalgoorlie to the Murchison well over thirty years ago. He pulled up at Lawlers, where he thought he could make a bit of a crust once he got a start. He wanted a camp, though, and a bit of a cart. He chummed in with a man who could fix him up. What was the property worth? Well, there was a neat camp, an old cart and harness, a “bit of a brumby” to pull it, a good camp oven, and some other gear, quite a nice little outfit. Would a fiver be asking too much? Microbe had that sum and the deal was made.
However, to his surprise, he got more than he bargained for, he got the “Missus” as well! She was a middle-aged woman, who had been housekeeping for the seller for some time, and it was mostly on her account that he was leaving. She had a thatch like tow, a red freckled face, sunburnt arms, and a peculiar shuffling walk. Besides this she was stone deaf. She was not informed of the part she took in the transaction until after her former flame had departed. So Microbe put the position before her.
She was quite satisfied. Microbe was just as good as anyone else, and so far as looks and afflictions went, they were on a par!
For a long time Microbe kept a shanty on the Sandstone to Youanmi road. It was a neat little place, kept beautifully clean, and in summertime well sprinkled with water, and, therefore, a godsend to the weary wayfarer. As he did not interfere with the trade of legitimate liquor sellers, he was not molested. Officials who usually pried into businesses of this nature winked the other eye and let Microbe be. Amongst his visitors, he counted the local sergeant and the Resident Magistrate, better known as “Jacky the Warden,” an old goldfielder with a wide experience and a wonderful knowledge of human nature. He understood, and his sympathies were with the afflicted couple, who were doing the best they could to keep themselves free of government assistance, and, at the same time provide a cool drink for thirsty souls whose mouths were parched with dust.
One day a turnout hove into sight, and several persons alighted at the Microbe’s camp. They were Eastern Stater’s, and knew little or nothing of the ways of goldfielders, but they were hot on temperance. One of the parties was a lady lecturer, whose pet subject was total abstinence. Poor misguided soul to come to such a place at such a time with a doctrine of that nature. However, she stuck to her guns and wanted something done when she found out the position.
Her arrival happened about half an hour after that of the warden and the sergeant, who had both slaked their thirsts with a few of the best. Another man, not too discreet, was in the act of getting himself on the outside a nice gin sling. She wanted a drink, and, not being able to secure the soft stuff asked for Microbe who was out of it, he always was. She made her inquiries there and then and decided it was up to her to act.
On learning of the presence of the officials, she interviewed them, and asked if they were aware of the position. No, neither of them had ever dreamed of such a thing they replied! They were just going through, and naturally, Microbe would be cautious when they were around. She brought along the gin-sling drinker, who made no secret of the fact that Microbe had an excellent supply of good liquor to hand.
Her ladyship decided there and then that she would start proceedings and was told by the Warden that he was very glad someone had, at last, come forward to act as informer and bring the sinner to justice. Most certainly he would take her complaint, and sit on the bench, but she had better understand the matter so that there would be no lamentations later. She, of course, would be the complainant and a common informer, and be gazetted as such, and, in case of a conviction, she would have to take a monetary fine that was compulsory and the full name, address and amount would be gazetted in four papers, including the “Government Gazette.”
That changed her mind. She was no informer after that, and she and her party could not get into their turnout quickly enough. What she told the easterners would no doubt have been worth hearing. Microbe kept his pitch until traffic on the road made it un payable. He and his lady, Violet SCOTT “Deafy”, then got the job of roustabouts at the local slaughter house, where they remained to the end of their days.
They lie side by side in the Youanmi cemetery, probably as quietly as the benighted Easterner wanted them to be.
by SUTER ABIS, Perth.
Moya Sharp
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