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'Mapping Brisbane History' Website is Launched

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I attended the launch of the Mapping Brisbane History website over at Cooper Plains on Saturday 1 March, and a very fine afternoon it was too. Among the 40 or so attendees were some of the cream of the crop of the southern Brisbane local history scene, and although I had to leave a bit earlier than expected it was great catching up. Various pollies were also to there to speak, show support, and to quite fairy remind us where the money came from.


Above: Launch of the Mapping Brisbane History Website,
1 March 2014 (C Dawson)

The concept of Mapping Brisbane History (let's call it MBH) is to depict contemporary maps of Brisbane online and overlay them with sites of historical interest from various time periods. Each individual site label can be clicked on to display historical information and images.
 
The technology works direct from the MBH website (allow a couple of minutes for file loading during first-time use) although if you have Google Earth (and you should) the files can be downloaded directly into that.

The project has been established with three initial Pilot Study Areas, which are Fairfield/Annerley, Sunnybank/Banoon, and Moorooka/Tarragindi. The plan is to eventually extend the mapping to other areas of Brisbane, so the assistance and involvement of historians from other suburbs is being called for. 

Screenshot of part of the Fairfield-Annerley section of MBH in Google Earth.

MBH was initiated by the Coopers Plains Local History Group and funded with a Brisbane City Council Community Grant. The project team included historians Dr Neville Buch, Beryl Roberts and Janice Cooper, and professional surveyor Chris Burns. So well done to all of them. 

The next stage of the MBH project will also involve Aboriginal history specialist Ray Kerkhove and myself.

I had a drive around the MBH yesterday and loved it. It's a splendid concept that has been very well executed. I also very much like the idea of lots of different historians coming together to work on this project as it is expanded around Brisbane. Interested participants can email the team here.

The whole thing got me thinking about some of the work on maps and history I did during my undergraduate days, so coming up soon on the Boggo Blog will be a look at Aboriginal cultural landscapes and how western mapping became part of the process of European invasion/settlement in Australia.

In the meantime, why not pop over to the MBH website and have a look around there?




Ghost Hunting & Me: Even Atheists Want to go to Heaven

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(This was article was written last week. Since then Courier-Mail reporter Des Houghton has published this hard-hitting article titled 'Stop This Sick Sideshow'. He is strongly critical not only of Ghost Hunts, but also ghost tours at Boggo Road. My own recent concerns have been about ghost hunts in places where deaths in custody occurred. Here is my original article:)

The funny thing about atheists is this - they all want to be wrong. Given the choice between utter non-existence and some blissful eternal afterlife playing harps in another dimension, atheists would choose Heaven every time. Who wouldn't? And I say that as an atheist myself. Thing is, we don't believe there is eternal afterlife so non-existence it is, which is fine by us. Que sera sera.

I'm also a skeptic. Same thing there. Like Agent Mulder, I want to believe, I want there to be an afterlife, but I've seen nothing to make me believe there is one. I think it's something a lot of people in the 'paranormal industry' don't get about skeptics. We're not cynics, we just set a very high bar as far as proof goes because deep down we want this stuff to be true. As I've written before, understanding the supernatural - if it it was to exist - should be a thing of awe and wonder, and understanding it would be an epochal triumph of science. Skeptics are just not prepared to accept the laughable Kentucky Fried Ghosts play-acting that too many in the paranormal industry are currently engaged in. 

This opinion has been reached after more than a decade of personal dealings with the 'paranormal industry'. One of several prospective books I'm working on now is something of a warts-and-all memoir of that relationship. It's been an eye-opening experience to say the least, and over that time my opinions have evolved considerably. There have been times in the past when I gave tentative support to a couple of paranormal investigation projects planned as heritage fundraisers, and it was during those times that I had to confront ethical questions about 'ghost hunting', questions that I am still working through. 

That is, putting the pseudoscience aside, where and when is it appropriate to do ghost-o-meter-type paranormal investigations? 

Back in 2009 the Friends of South Brisbane Cemetery were approached by a woman who suggested doing a not-for-profit paranormal investigation fundraiser for cemetery heritage. The group agreed and planning commenced. It was a very strange time indeed. 'Queensland Paranormal Investigators' and the 'Brisbane Ghost Tours' business co-ran commercial 'ghost hunts' in the cemetery and did what they could to stop this fundraiser. They didn't want any 'competition'. Phone calls were made, emails were sent, and I won't go into here but court intervention was required to stop the persistent harassment of this woman.

Of course all this only strengthened the resolve to do the fundraiser, but along the way this involved practical on-the-ground planning, and it was during that time that I came face-to-face with ethical questions. Was it right to run paranormal investigations in a place where people were placed by their loved ones to 'rest in peace'? I was uneasy but the group planned away. 

In the end it never happened anyway. Once the staff at the Brisbane City Council discovered that commmercial ghost hunts had been conducted in the cemeteries they stepped in to ban them all. And quite rightly too. More than that, they overhauled the whole ghost tour thing, charging a fee for the first time and regulating tour content and marketing, which was getting more and more disrespectful.

After a long period of squabbling, it was something of an acceptable ending.

During this time I was also involved with the Greater Brisbane Cemetery Alliance, a coalition of heritage volunteers associated with various cemeteries, who among other things lobbied the council to crack down on nocturnal trespassing in cemeteries and ban all night tours. I pushed for language that a total ban was the 'preferred option'. 

The ban never happened, and so the Friends of South Brisbane Cemetery decided that if for-profit ghost tours were going to be held in cemeteries anyway, then let's offer the public a respectful alternative that focussed on real history, and so the not-for-profit Moonlight Tours were born (once again there was private-sector opposition to this 'competition').

Was this 'hypocrisy', as was alleged? Not really. To us, the night tour bans were had always the preferred option. If council was going to allow ghost tours in cemeteries anyway, then the next best approach for FOSBC was to do night tours properly. Merely a change of tactic.    

Something of the same process took place at Boggo Road. In November 2012, during negotiations for the interim management of Boggo Road, a Public Works official gave us three days notice to produce a business plan for something we had never contemplated before - running Boggo Road ourselves. It was a request more suited to a reality TV show ('we gave the contestants three days to come up with a business plan from scratch - can they do it?') than best practice planning. But it was the kind of rushed, chaotic process than led to the interim opening of Boggo Road and all the subsequent problems.

Three days from scratch. That's not how business plans work. Especially as we were highy skeptical of fair consideration. We said we'd put together an outline, that was it. Established ideas were included, but some new things were sprinkled in too, such as the monthly not-for-profit 'paranormal investigations' as suggested by one of the organisations interested in being part of the set up. 

As with the South Brisbane Cemetery paranormal fundraiser, it seemed reasonable enough without giving it too much thought in the rush to get the document together. Thinking about it afterwards, the problems became clear. There had been deaths in custody at Boggo Road, including Aboriginal men committing suicide. I have studied Aboriginal culture enough to know there were spiritual issues here. 

Consequently, at a meeting with Public Works officials in December 2012, I voiced my concern about paranormal investigations at Boggo Road in relation to deaths in custody. The officials were of the same opinion, and no 'ghost hunts' were to be allowed. At the same meeting I also suggested it might be appropriate for the Indigenous community to conduct whatever ceremony was felt necessary to spiritually 'cleanse' Boggo Road if there was going to be ghost tours in there. Again, there was agreement. If we had managed Boggo Road, such a ceremony would have been a prerequisite to the place opening again.

So now, with 'ghost hunts' planned for Boggo Road, I have again voiced my opposition. This opposition is the result of careful consideration of the issues over time. What might seem harmless enough at first can be, with further consideration, disrespectful.

So, in short, opinions evolve over time. Tony Abbott supported a carbon price before he opposed it. 'Ghost Tours' once ran commercial ghost hunts in Brisbane cemeteries, now they label them as 'disrespectful not only to the people that have passed, in their final resting place, but also to the living families of those that have passed as well'.

Of course, this opinion was only expressed some time afterBrisbane City Council banned ghost hunts in their cemeteries. Before then, 'Ghost Tours' had fought tooth-and-nail to run the hunts, and promotions for them even involved smoke machines and Ghostbusters theme music.   

The questions is; is this change of opinion on cemetery ghost hunts the result of genuine reflection on the subject, or is it just hypocrisy?






Book of the Month: ‘Intemperance & the Train of Evils: A life on the wrong side of the tracks in colonial Brisbane’ (2008)

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I have been revisiting some of my old publications (for reasons that will become clear in the coming months) and have found that after a few years I can finally look at them with fresh eyes. It's surprising how much research I can do on something and then completely forgot about it a few years  later. 

Intemperance & the Train of Evilsis one of those books. It would be a great name for a Blues album, but instead it is a biography on the life of Margaret Blessington, who arrived in Brisbane as a 2-year-old back in 1874. After being brought up ‘on the wrong side of the tracks’ she led an institutionalised life in various venereal disease hospitals, ‘charitable institutions’, prisons and mental asylums. This went on for decades, because somehow Margaret managed to live into her eighties.

The book was written on the back of research I conducted during my postgraduate History studies at the University of Queensland. The project was to write a biography of a Queenslander and I chose Margaret for two reasons. Firstly because people like her left a massive footprint in the historical records as they moved from institution to institution and courtroom to prison cell. Secondly, a name like Blessington is easier to track through the records than Johnson. So I guess I was cheating a bit there in making my work easier. It did turn out to be a good choice because her life told a much wider story of the Brisbane underclass at the turn of the 20th century.

Margaret was sent to prison at least 46 times, which might seem like a staggering amount but these were almost all short-term sentences (usually a few weeks) for offences such as drunkenness and prostitution (the coded official terminology for which was usually 'obscene language' or 'obscene exposure'). Some of her contemporary female prison colleagues were actually sentenced in excess of 100 times. It is clear they had become ‘habitualised’ to the merry-go-round of a few weeks on the streets followed by a few weeks in a cell. Sadly, for many this cycle was only broken by death or insanity.

What surprised me during the course of the research was the sheer number of institutions there were in colonial Brisbane trying to ‘help’ women like Margaret. There again, there was obviously a lot of demand created by the awful working conditions that many women had to endure back then. Domestic Service was presented as something of an aspiration for these women, but that was a life of drudgery and semi-slavery, working long hours doing strenuous work in the homes of the middle and upper classes in return for a pittance. As was often commented at the time, it was no surprise that some sought refuge in the relative freedom of life as sex workers.

The course of Margaret’s life took her through such places as the Toowoomba and Brisbane prisons, the Fortitude Valley lock-up, the Lock Hospital, the Goodna Hospital for the Insane, the Ipswich Hospital for the Insane, Toowoomba Mental Hospital, and finally the Dalby Jubilee Hospital, where she died in 1957 at the age of 85 years. Other institutions she might have seen the inside of include the Female Refuge and Infants’ Home, the Toowoomba Industrial School and Reformatory, Brisbane Industrial Home, and The Magdalene Asylum.
 
Kit inspection, 1903 (John Oxley Library). Margaret Blessington is one of the prisoners in this
photograph, which was taken on a day when she was confined in Brisbane Prison.
This 1913 photograph gives a somewhat sanitized impression of the women’s ward at the
Goodna Hospital for the Insane. (Brisbane City Council)


The symmetrical grounds of the Toowoomba Hospital for the Insane, ca.1902
(John Oxley Library). This design was intended to reflect a sense of balance and order.
Intemperance & the Train of Evils is one of my personal favourites, I think because in researching the lives of people like Margaret you come to feel you know them a bit, 

There’s more than enough material out there on the lives of the rich and famous, and frankly it’s a side of history that I’m not really interested in. The wealthy ensured their historical remembrance with studio portraits and lavish grave memorials. People like Margaret tend to disappear between the cracks of History. There are no photographs (even her prison photo has been lost) and their graves usually lie unmarked. Uncovering the forgotten lives of the less fortunate is, in my opinion, a much more rewarding pursuit because in the process they become un-forgotten.You correct a little bit of the inherent bias within History towards the rich and powerful. Just a bit.

Maybe, given her circumstances, Margaret would have preferred historical anonymity, but her story tells us so much about the society she lived in. The lives of people like Margaret slipped by in a blur of 'corrective' institutions, alcohol, insanity and eventual anonymity.    

Check a local bookshop for Intemperance & the Train of Evils: A life on the wrong side of the tracks in colonial Brisbane, or it can be bought online or by mail here.

Price: $10.00 (+$5.00 postage).
21,000 words, 84 pages.
Includes photographs, endnotes and appendices. 
Foreword by Senator Claire Moore.

Know Your Colonial Gaol History #8: Saint Helena Island, 1867-1932

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St Helena Island map
Overcrowding at Brisbane Gaol on Petrie Terrace in the early 1860s led to the use of the prison hulk ‘Proserpine’ in the Brisbane River. The prisoners held on the hulk travelled to nearby Saint Helena Island on most days to construct a new prison there (this was actually intended to be a quarantine station before plans were changed). The island itself was proclaimed to be a Penal Establishment on 18 May 1867, and John McDonald was appointed as the first superintendent.

The original prison was made up of two wards holding up to 80 inmates, and single cells for eight more. It was surrounded by a wooden stockade wall, 14 feet high, which had a 20-foot wide ‘track’ between it and the buildings inside. By the end of the century there was accommodation for up to 300 men on the island.

The ward walls were made of hardwood, grooved and tongued with iron, while the internal walls were made of thick iron wire, allowing constant supervision of the inmates (who slept in hammocks). Other spaces inside the stockade included a hospital, kitchen and bakery, water tank, wash house, and dining shed. 

What is the difference between a prison and a penal establishment?
A prison is a building that has been officially proclaimed as an incarceration facility. A ‘penal establishment’ includes all the surrounding land. St Helena was actually proclaimed to be a high-security ‘gaol, prison, and house of correction’ for long-term inmates on November 1875, before again being proclaimed a Penal Establishment in July 1879.

St Helena was considered to be a model prison of the time. The enforced isolation and high levels of discipline on the island resulted in the prison becoming self- sufficient and profitable. The native vegetation was cleared by the prisoners, who planted crops there. The prison food, including hominy and bread, was obtained by growing wheat, sugar cane and vegetables, and also raising sheep and dairy cattle herds. 


Boot Shop at St Helena, 1911
Buildings were also constructed using local resources where possible. For example, a lime kiln opened there in 1869 to burn coral in order to make cement.
 
Field gang on St Helena, 1911

During the 1870s a number of trade workshops were erected, and some prisoners were trained as saddle makers, tinsmiths, boot makers, tailors, blacksmiths and carpenters. Despite its relative success, St Helena was considered by some officials to be unsuitable for the appropriate classification of prisoners. Following the decision in 1921 to use both divisions of Boggo Road for male prisoners, St Helena became a prison farm after long-term inmates prisoners were transferred to the metropolitan prison. St Helena eventually closed in December 1932.

The buildings soon deteriorated into ruins, but in 1979 the island became a National Park and the following year it was gazetted as Queensland's first Historic Area. It can now be explored on various guided tours.


Know Your Colonial Gaol History #9: Maryborough 1877

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Maryborough, 1880s.
Maryborough probably holds the Queensland record for having the shortest-lived prison, after the police lock-up there became a prison for less than a month in May 1877. It was an unusual move, but it was made in unusual circumstances.
 
Executions in 19th-century Queensland were legally required to be conducted at places that had officially been proclaimed as prisons. This created a problem in 1877 after two Pacific Islander labourers named Tommy and George were sentenced to death for a rape that took place near Maryborough. Noisy sections of the local (white) population demanded that the executions be conducted in the town so the rest of the indentured labour population of the sugar plantations could be ‘taught a lesson’. 

Although the government decided to hang Tommy and George in Maryborough, the town only had a police lock-up instead of an official prison. 

These lock-ups were small structures containing a few cells and usually attached to a courthouse or police station. They were used to confine prisoners for a short space of time only and were staffed by police or court officials.   

Maryborough, 1880s.
During the 1850s the New South Wales government voted that £1000 be spent on the erection of a court house and lock-up in Maryborough, but this was not completed until about 1863. Built on the corner of Kent and Adelaide Streets, on the site of the current town hall, these were said to be the first brick buildings in Maryborough.

The lock-up was extended circa 1870, but soon afterwards plans were prepared for a new courthouse and lock-up in the town. This did not open until 1878, and so the old lock-up was still in use for the execution in 1877. It consisted of a little yard and five small cells, the largest of which was 3.5 by 2.6 metres, all surrounded by a four-metre timber wall. The cells were intended to hold only one prisoner each, but often housed up to four.

The Maryborough Courthouse on the corner of Kent and Adelaide Streets,
c. 1870 (Fraser Coast Regional Council)

Conditions inside these cells were harshly criticised in the press:
Their sufferings in the “Black Hole,” with the thermometer registering x can hardly be imagined, much less described. This is the sort of thing that we dub “the administration of justice”, and this is the kind of humanity that everywhere follows in the wake of our “most Christian” nation.

(Brisbane Courier, 25 December 1876)

These cells would have held Tommy Ah Mow and George as they awaited their deaths. For the purposes of the execution, the lock-up was officially proclaimed to be a prison in May 1877. It had been planned to allow up to 600 Pacific Islanders into the yard to witness the hanging, but authorities grew nervous of the large crowds when the time arrived and instead decided to allow a dozen representatives of various sugar plantations inside. The prison reverted to back to the status of a lock-up after the execution was completed, making it the shortest-lived gaol in Queensland history.  


Know Your Colonial Gaol History #9: Roma Gaol, 1872-1903

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As the colony of Queensland continued to expand after the boom of the 1860s, the reach of British law extended further inland. The Maranoa region of the Western Downs was opened for pastoralists and the site of Roma was first surveyed in the early 1860s. By 1866 it was the major administrative centre of the Maranoa and had a police station and a courthouse, so a prison was not long coming. 

Built by T Slaughter, the ‘Public Gaol, Prison and House of Correction’ opened in December 1872 on the corner of May and McDowell Streets. It became known locally as ‘Donnelly’s Hotel’, after Peter Donnelly, the first superintendent. The prison initially had capacity for 24 prisoners, with 8 separate cells and the rest confined in a common ward. The 1¼ acre grounds were surrounded by a 4-metre-tall hardwood stockade fence, and the early yards were not graveled but were instead ‘muddy and boggy’.

McDowell Street, Roma, 1875. The gaol and courthouse were on the far end of this street.
(Australian Town and Country Journal, July 1875)

The most common crimes in the gaol register were reported to be forgery, false pretences, and cattle or horse theft. Among the inmates held there was the notorious cattle thief Harry Redford. Sadly, as was this case with many other colonial prisons, people with severe mental health issues were also confined in the cells on occasion.

By the 1890s the buildings were decaying and required constant patching up. These were probably the prison’s busiest days thanks to theShearer’s Strike. The prison was expanded with a couple of new cells and another ward to increase the capacity to 38 inmates, both male and female.

McDowell Street, Roma, 1875.
(Australian Town and Country Journal, July 1875)
The hard labour regime of the 1890s saw gangs of prisoners in the ‘broad arrow’ clothing on the roads pulling carts to a creek for sand. Local residents protested that the sight not only had a bad influence on children, but it was unnecessary degradation of the prisoners. Hard labour was then switched to woodcutting.

The prison closed in October 1903 and became a police gaol, meaning that only prisoners serving sentences of 30 days or less could be held there. It served in this capacity until 1923, when it was demolished as an ‘eyesore’.


Know Your Colonial Gaol History #5: Fortitude Valley Police Gaol 1863–1903

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The police lockup at Fortitude Valley, Brisbane, can be included in this series as it was officially proclaimed a prison in September 1863, even though it does not appear to have been used as such, probably because of the existence of a female ward at the Petrie Terrace prison until 1870. It was listed in the 1878 Blue Book as a gaol, but was referred to as a police gaol in the 1890 Prison Act. Police gaols were used for prisoners serving sentences of less than a month, and for those awaiting trial or transfer to another prison. 

Female prisoners in Brisbane in the mid-to-late 19th century were sent to either the prison on Petrie Terrace, the Toowoomba prison (from 1870), or the Fortitude Valley facility on the corner of Brookes and Church streets. It had been constructed in 1860 and consisted of two dirty cells measuring about 10x15 feet. In 1887 the average daily number of prisoners held in these cells was 11, although at one time 23 had been confined there‘huddled together like cattle and not human beings’ according to one Brisbane Courierreport. The prisoners slept on the floor with a pair of blankets underneath and another pair over them. There was a yard outside where they would cook for themselves. These yards were often overgrown with grass and had stagnant water in them, due to poor drainage, and the stench from the earth closets could be overpowering. The gaol was next to a state school, ‘from the playground of which everything said in the yard by the prisoners can be heard’. Children were reportedly kept in the gaol on occasion with their mothers, including boys aged 9 to 11.
  
The prison was regularly visited by the Sisters of Mercy, the Women’s Christian Temperance Union, and the Salvation Army officers, who tried to help the inmates back onto the ‘straight and narrow’. They were shocked by the conditions they found, especially with young prisoners ‘packed as close as cattle in a railway truck with creatures so vile that no language at our command will convey an adequate conception of their degradation’. In 1887 a major inquiry into the Queensland prison system was launched.It was found that the ‘old hands’ were using the prisons as recruitment grounds for young prostitutes, and the inquiry heard that one 17-year-old girl held at Fortitude Valley awaiting trial had been approached by a ‘notorious brothel keeper’ who made the ‘most improper overtures to her, and that if when released she went to a certain address, she would get plenty of flash clothes and $10’. 
 
Members of the Christian Women's Temperance Union,
Brisbane, 1901 (John Oxley Library)

The authors of the 1887 report found that keeping the women and girls in common wards instead of separate cells led to the ‘worst evils of indiscriminate association and of mixing tried and untried prisoners’, and called for new facilities that allowed for ‘separation’.
‘It is the system that is at fault, and until that can be altered and female prisoners confined separately, with classification for work purposes, we may regard the gaol as little better than a manufactory of abandoned and criminal women.’ 
(‘1887 Inquiry into Gaols’)
 The dilapidated Fortitude Valley lockup was subsequently demolished and a new facility erected in its place in 1889. Although it was still small, the new building allowed a limited amount of separation of the prisoners. It featured four ordinary cells measuring 8x12 feet, rooms for bathing, storage and cooking, and two yards.Two punishment cells measuring 8x10 feet were erected in 1891, as these were ‘urgently required for enforcing obedience and discipline’. 

Ground plan of the Fortitude Valley police station and lockup, ca.1903. By this time there
were four regular cells and two punishment cells in the building (Queensland Police Museum).
 
Throughout the 1890s the comptroller-general of Queensland prisons, Charles Pennefather, repeatedly requested that a new prison for women be built. A state-of-the-art female prison - with two whole wings containing separate cells - opened on Boggo Road, Woolloongabba in October 1903 and Fortitude Valley was subsequently gazetted closed as a police gaol. All female prisoners were transferred to the new prison.  

(See the book Intemperance & the Train of Evils for more on this subject) 




Quick Guide to the First Half of the 'Know Your Colonial Gaol History' Series

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Think back to some of the truly classic documentary series'. Clark's Civilisation; Bronowski's Ascent of Man; Attenborough's Life on Earth; Sagan's Cosmos; and Burns'The Civil War. Can we now add Dawson's Know Your Colonial Gaol History to that list? No we can't.

Since 2012 I have posted the occasional article about the 19th-century Queensland penal system. Together these articles are forming the Know Your Colonial Gaol History series and attracting a readership stretching into high single figures. Such is life on a niche blog. Having recently reached the halfway point with #11 (yes, there's going to be at least 22 of these), now would be a good time to collate all the articles so far posted into a one-stop shop. And here it is.

The penal settlement that formed the basis of Brisbane was established in the 1820s. Home to convicts who had reoffended since their arrival in the Australian colonies, discipline was a pressing issue and imprisonment was not always an option. The first purpose-built incarceration facilities opened in 1828.

Brisbane's first official prison opened in 1850 on the site of what is now the General Post Office, Queen Street. This had previously been the former 'Female Factory', used to confine female convicts in the penal settlement days. Already falling apart when it first opened, the Queen Street gaol was a 'gingerbread structure' that did not last long.
 
Queensland became a separate colony from New South Wales in 1859, and the first new public building to open was a prison on Petrie Terrace. Although a big improvement on the Queen Street facility, it soon proved to be too small.


This building was proclaimed a gaol for women in 1863 but was only used to hold short-term inmates awaiting trial or transfer elsewhere. Despite this, the gaol still attracted criticism as it suffered all the society-shocking problems usually associated with confining inmates in the common wards of larger facilities.

The new colony expanded rapidly during the 1860s, and the prison system had to grow with it. Having a prison was something of a status symbol for the emerging regional towns, and it was Rockhampton, on the central coast, that became the second town in Queensland to have such a facility.

Toowoomba, the administrative centre of the Darling Downs region, was the third Queensland town to have its own prison. As with Rockhampton, this also meant hosting executions in the yards of the prison. In later years the prison became a female-only facility, much to the chagrin of 'respectable' citizens.


As Brisbane's penal authorities struggled to keep up with the booming prison population during the 1860s, a short-term solution was found in holding some prisoners on old ships on the Brisbane River. Initially the barque Julia Percy was used, and then more famously the barque Proserpine, which later became a boys' reformatory.

Brisbane's second 1860s prison was opened on the Moreton Bay island of St Helena in 1867, taking some of the load from Petrie Terrace when long-term inmates were transferred there. St Helena proved to be one of Queensland's longest lasting and most interesting incarceration facilities.
 
The colony continued to expand during the 1870s and so Roma, in the Western Downs, became the next regional centre to have a prison. In its heyday it was the unwanted home of cattle thieves and striking shearers, but like many of the regional Queensland prisons that followed, its days were numbered.


11. Maryborough (1877) 
The central coast town of Maryborough was considered too small to warrant having its own prison, but needed one to host an execution scheduled to take place in the town in 1877. The police lock-up was therefore proclaimed to be a prison for the duration of the macabre event.

The second half of the Know Your Colonial Gaol History series will follow the expanding frontier deeper into colonial Queensland, reaching as far as Blackall, Normanton and Thursday Island. New prisons also replaced the older structures in the major towns and cities as the penal system maintained the pattern - still seen today - of struggling to keep up with a growing prison population.

The series should be complete any year now. The colonial gaol history of Queensland is a lot more extensive and interesting that you might imagine... 




Know Your Colonial Gaol History #12: The First Townsville Gaol, 1878-96

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The prison at Stuart Creek, Townsville was one of Queensland’s major carceral facilities for much of the 20th century and could be regarded as ‘the Boggo Road of the North’, being quite similar in design and, to a certain extent, reputation. That prison opened in 1891 but it was actually preceded by another Townsville gaol built in 1878. 

Queensland’s colonial prison system spread in the wake of the colony’s expanding frontiers, and Townsville followed Brisbane, Toowoomba, Rockhampton and Roma in having its own prison. Townsville had been proclaimed a municipality in 1865 with a tiny population of about 100 people, but by 1870 it had become a major port in North Queensland. The discovery of gold in the surrounding area saw the town grow steadily, and the influx of miners and prospectors led to increased criminal activity such as drunkenness, violence and vagrancy. The capacity of the small timber police lock-up was soon exceeded and plans for a new gaol were prepared by the renowned colonial architect, FDG Stanley.


Flinders Street East, Townsville, early 1880s. Castle Hill is in the backgound.
(Peter Lawson, Townsville: A Early History, 1977)

HM Townsville Gaol was proclaimed in September 1878 on what is now Warburton Street, which was part of the Botanical Gardens site occupied by the cricket club at the foot of Castle Hill.

The prison had the ‘radial’ design popular at the time and featured:
  • One prison ward two storeys in height for 140 male prisoners, with 40 in single cells
  • Prison ward for 60 female prisoners. Twenty per block
  • Prisoners' kitchen with store attached
  • Quarters for Gaoler with offices
  • Quarters for Turnkeys on each side of entrance court and having check gate at the inner side
  • Underground water tanks
  • A brick boundary wall about 5 metres high, with 3-metre-high brick walls in the yards. The outer boundary, about 7 metres out from the brick perimeter, had a strong open stockade fence.
  • Earth closets in the yards

Plan of Townsville Gaol ('Inquiry into Gaol Management', 1887).

The buildings were constructed by contractor J Rooney, and the walls and cells were completed for occupation by October 1878, and fully completed to include the gatehouse and gaoler's accommodation in 1880.  


Townsville Gaol (centre), 1885 (State Library of Queensland)

The aim was to provide a large enough prison to meet the needs of northern Queensland for about a decade, and this was just about achieved although the gaol became overcrowded almost as soon as it was completed.

No executions were ever held in Townsville, although a number of capital cases were tried there. Guilty prisoners from those cases, such as Ellen Thomson and John Harrison in 1887, were transferred to Brisbane to be hanged.

A new prison was erected at Stewarts Creek (now Stuart Creek), Townsville, in 1891 and all male prisoners were transferred there. The old prison was proclaimed to be a Police Gaol for a few months in 1893 before overcrowding necessitated it being reproclaimed a prison again. It was used to hold only female prisoners until 1896 before reverting back to police ownership. The buildings remained until 1955, when the Central State School was relocated to the site.


Gallipoli Sunday

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There is a faraway place where, towards the end of every April, locals gather in the streets to watch military parades and remember the World War 1 horrors of Gallipoli. The occasion is not known as ‘ANZAC Day’ but is instead ‘Gallipoli Sunday’, and it takes place not in Australia but in the town of Bury, just north of Manchester, England. This is my birthplace.

It would be hard to find any place in Britain where Gallipoli is remembered as determinedly as it is in Bury. During World War 1 this Lancashire mill town (population 50,000 at the time) was home to the Lancashire Fusiliers regiment. This was one of the 84 British regiments that served at Gallipoli, and they lost nearly 2,000 men in the nine-month assault on the Dardanelles. Their landing spot at Cape Helleson 25 April 1915 later became known as 'Lancashire Landing', and it was during the landing on that day that six men of the 1st Battalion Lancashire Fusiliers earned Victoria Crosses - the famous 'six VCs before breakfast'.

Bury men (the 'Bury Bantams') reporting for duty early in the war.
Many were to die at Gallipoli.

'The Lancashire Landing', Cape Helles.

The effect on the town was profound. After cheering the Fusiliers off to war with romantic ideals, the town reeled as news of the unfolding catastrophe filtered back from the front. By the time the war finally ended three years later nearly 14,000 Fusiliers had lost. Geoffrey Moorhouse’s brilliant book Hell’s Foundations: A social history of the town of Bury in the aftermath of Gallipoli details the profound effect the war had on the town, not only those who lost family and friends, but also those who survived but were maimed physically and psychologically and could be seen on the streets of Bury in dwindling numbers for decades to come. The ‘broken families and broken men’ wanted to ‘forget the war and get on with life’, but decades later the town still marks every Gallipoli Sundayand, much like in Australia, disaster has metamorphosed into legend. 

Fusiliers march to the parish church, Gallipoli Sunday, Bury, 23 April 1923.

Gallipoli Sunday isn't as grand or frenzied as ANZAC Day, and Lancastrians have not mythologised the Fusiliers with idealised attributes, but the commemoration has dignity and reminds us that Gallipoli was an international disaster that left its mark on many countries, from India to Senegal to Canada to France and most of all on Turkey.  




Gallipoli veterans Bob Spencer (Lancashire Fusiliers) and Benny Adams
(Manchester Regiment) march on the 75th anniversary of Gallipoli, April 1990.
I've only ever attended two ANZAC parades in Brisbane. For the first one I found a quiet spot and it was especially moving to see the World War 1 veterans up front and the bands of foreign service people from places like Vietnam and eastern Europe further back. I watched the entire event, to the very last person. However, I left my second and last Brisbane parade halfway through. This one I watched from a more densely-populated part of the route, where flag-draped spectators constantly yelled out 'Aussie Aussie Aussie! Oi Oi Oi'. It felt more like the boganic build-up to a one day cricket match instead of the solemn remembrance seen in Brisbane in decades past.

I only attend the smaller and more respectful events now, where the flags and the chants are left at home. Today my youngest two children will be marching with the cubs at an ANZAC service in Inala, Brisbane. My eldest two (including my eldest daughter who was also born in Bury) will be at the dawn service over in Gallipoli itself. Hopefully she'll get over to the Lancashire Landing Cemetery there. 

(This reminder of one of the many perspectives to Gallipoli is dedicated to the nice Neanderthal gentleman at the train station yesterday who, upon hearing my north England accent, decided I was personally responsible for the Gallipoli debacle. I wasn't even wearing my top hat and monocle.)


The Mysterious Case of the 'Ghost of Gallipoli'

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Last week on the Boggo Blog Facebook page I made a sneering comment about an article by Fairfax National Affairs editor Tony Wright. In the piece, titled 'Gallipoli 'ghost' captured at soldiers' cemetery', he suggested that his colleague had photographed a ghost. As happens a lot on the Internet now, paranormalists had a premature ejaculation.

Wright was in Gallipoli with two other men, including Joe Armao, a photographer who was taking shots in the fading light of evening at Beach Cemetery, Hell Spit. He took a few photos with the third man (Celal) standing away from them, a solitary silhouette against the background. The first image looked like this:

(Joe Armao)
Then, checking the frames a few seconds later, Armao noticed an 'unexplained apparition' standing next to Celal:

(Joe Armao)
See it? Wright then wrote of Armao's reaction:
'He could offer no explanation, but he said the hair stood up on the back of his neck. When he showed Celal and me, we packed up and left the empty cemetery... Hours of close and sceptical inspection of the frame, including extreme digital enlargement, comparison with other frames and lively discussion of a number of theories about shadows from the flower, tricks of the light and movement of the camera during the 2.5-second exposure offered no conclusive explanation.'
Wright offered the image to his readers 'for judgment'. And boy did they judge. The comments section lit up, with the vast majority people pointing out that the 'ghost' was clearly no more than some kind of 'shadowing' on a flower in the foreground. Issues of 'respect for the dead' were raised, and many pointed out that they had not subscribed to Fairfax to read this sort of stuff. Save it for the readers of Take Five.

Of course the paranormalists jumped on it in their usual frenzy and splashed it far and wide on the Web. A ghost! Others pontificated on how nice it was that the benevolent spirits of the dead were watching over their mates. This is typical paranormalist 'character attribute invention'. The ghost was an Aussie and a top bloke. No doubt if this had been the site of a murderer's hanging, the spirit would have had evil intent. 

The next day Wright offered a mea culpa, with not so much of the mea. He went over the whole event again but neglected to once mention the previous day's article or provide a link to it. There was also no mention of the previous judgement of his readers. This time the photographer had reexamined the image and solved the mystery: 
'A minute study of the pixels finally revealed the mystery. Because the little flower in the extreme foreground was so close to the lens, the tiniest movement had created a large space of nothingness - the largest on the frame - which had imprinted itself on the image as "something" - in this case, a shape resembling a soldier rising from amid the graves.'
So, a victory for rationality then. Too late to stop the image circulating online for years to come as a 'ghost photo', but a welcome lesson for those paranormalists (by now cleaning their keyboards with a tissue) who forgot to look for normal explanations first. 

There was no comments section for this second article, sparing Wright some inevitable and embarrassing flak-copping. He is a reasonable national affairs writer (not saying much given the shallow group-think of the Canberra Press Gallery) and Armao is an award-winning photographer, but this was a very public misstep. It does show, however, the psychological effect of nocturnal visits to allegedly 'spooky' places such as cemeteries and historic battlefields (in this case, the two rolled into one). Rational judgment can be impaired as the mind is culturally-conditioned to more quickly attribute paranormal explanations for otherwise explainable phenomena.

Despite all that, it was reassuring to see so much skeptic reasoning in the comments section of the original article, which says good things about the Fairfax demographic. Maybe if the story had appeared in Take Five the response would have been quite different, a new ghost story would have taken hold, and the author would not have been compelled to 'update' his work. Hopefully the whole 'Ghost of Gallipoli' incident will serve as one of those reminders not to jump to outlandish conclusions.
  


How many of these ten Historical Misconceptions did you believe?

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This month on the Boggo Blog Facebook page I have been looking at some common historical misconceptions. That's not to be a smartypants, because to tell the truth I held quite a lot of them myself. Here are the first ten - how many did you think were actually true? 
 
1. KING CANUTE COMMANDS THE TIDE
King Canute (or Cnut the Great, king of Denmark, England, Norway, and parts of Sweden, lived circa 995-1035) is popularly believed to have been so delusion that he stood on the English coastline and tried to command the tide to reverse. There are two angles on why this never happened.


Firstly, an account of this event was written within 60 years of Cnut’s death, in Historia Anglorum by Henry of Huntingdon. in this version, when Cnut’s orders were ignored he was said to have pronounced, ‘Let all the world know that the power of kings is empty and worthless and there is no King worthy of the name save Him by whose will heaven and earth and sea obey eternal laws’. Therefore the event was intended to illustrate his piety, that he knew his power was nothing besides that of God.

On the other hand, some academics argue that the tide thing never happened at all, and 12thcentury historians were known for making up stories about Anglo-Saxon kings. The real Cnut probably showed no signs of such humility as he ruled a vast empire using fearsome military power.

2. GEORGE WASHINGTON & HIS AMAZING TEETH
US president George Washington is widely thought to have had teeth made out of oak. Poor George experienced regular toothaches, decay, and tooth loss throughout his adulthood, probably due to poor diet, disease and genetics. Prior to the Revolutionary War he wore a partial denture with ivory that was wired to his remaining real teeth. 


When Washington was inaugurated President in 1789 he had only one real tooth left. Dr. John Greenwood, a New York dentist, former Revolutionary soldier, and American dentistry pioneer, fashioned a technologically advanced set of dentures carved out of hippopotamus ivory and employing gold wire springs and brass screws holding human teeth. These dentures are now on display at the Baltimore College of Dental Surgery.

And the Americans like to insult British teeth!

3. HORNED VIKING HELMETS
There is no historical evidence that Vikings wore horns on their helmets. In depictions dating from the Viking era (during the 8th and 11th centuries) their warriors appear either bareheaded or clad in simple helmets probably made of either iron or leather. Archaeologists have never unearthed a Viking-era helmet embellished with horns. The only complete and definitively ‘Viking’ helmet found (in 1943, on a Norwegian farm) has a rounded iron cap, a guard around the eyes and nose, and no horns.
 

The ‘horn’ stereotype was probably created by those Scandinavian artists who produced images of Vikings in horned helmets in the 1800s. These were also used in the scenography of an 1876 production of the Der Ring des Nibelungen opera cycle by Richard Wagner. These depictions could have been inspired by 19th-century discoveries of ancient horned helmets, but those helmets predate the Vikings. Ancient Greek and Roman chroniclers also described northern Europeans wearing helmets adorned with all items such as horns, wings and antlers, but again this predated Vikings.

4. SEEING THE GREAT WALL OF CHINA FROM SPACE
In his 1938 publication, Second Book of Marvels, Richard Halliburton stated that the Great Wall of China was the only human-made object visible from the moon. However, the Great Wall is only a maximum of 30 feet wide (no wider than some roads) and is about the same colour as much of its surroundings, making it barely visible to the naked eye while orbiting Earth, much less from the moon, which is about 239,000 miles away.


The Great Wall myth became a source of pride for the Chinese nation, so when the first ‘taikonaut’ Yang Liwei returned from the Shenzhou5 space mission in 2003 and admitted to reporters that he had not seen the Great Wall, there was widespread disappointment. The Chinese Ministry of Education even revised its elementary school textbooks, which had long claimed the wall was visible from space. No small task for the Earth’s most populous nation.

5. THE GREAT CHICAGO FIRE WAS STARTED BY A COW
The Great Chicago Fire (1871) started when a fire burned down the O'Leary family's barn before spreading to consume a large part of the city. The massive fire killed up to 300 people and left 100,000 homeless. A contemporary newspaper reporter wrote that the fire had started when a cow, while being milked by a woman, had kicked over a lantern. This woman was soon identified as Mrs Catherine O'Leary. This story is still widely circulated even today, even though the reporter admitted over 20 years later that he had in fact made it up for ‘colorful copy’. Widespread anti-Irish attitudes at the time would have encouraged the scapegoating of the O'Leary family. The official report on the Great Chicago Fire was not able to determine how the fire started.


6. HOW SHORT WAS NAPOLEON?
Napoleon Bonaparteis often evoked as the stereotype of the ‘angry short man’, suggesting that his domineering ambitions were to compensate for his lack of height. He even had the nickname of ‘Le Petit Corporal (‘The Little Corporal’). Depictions of him in movies tend to the short side, such as in the comedy ‘Time Bandits’ in which he drunkenly pronounces:
“Alexander the Great? Five feet exactly. Isn't that incredible? Alexander the Great, whose empire stretched from India to Hungary... one inch shorter than me.”

That would make him 5’1”, but in reality he was 5’7’ tall, which is not massive but it was one inch taller than the average height of Frenchmen in the late 18thcentury. So he wasn’t at all short by the standards of his day. So why the nickname? Well, some soldiers used it early in his military career to mock his relatively low rank and the name stuck.

7. CINDERELLA'S GLASS SLIPPERS
More than 500 versions of the classic fairy tale ‘Cinderella’ exist, dating back as far as the 9th century. In each account she has either a magic ring, or magic slippers made of rare metals such as gold or silver, sometimes covered with gems, but never once was there any mention of glass slippers.


The modern take on the slippers was caused by a mistranslation. In early French versions of the story, Cinderella wore pantoufles en vair, or ‘slippers of white squirrel fur.’ Frenchman Charles Perrault wrote his version of the tale in 1697, but by that point the word vair had vanished from the French language. He wrongly assumed it should have been verre, meaning ‘glass’, and so the glass slippers made their first appearance. The popularity of Perrault’s work meant that this became the dominant version and has stayed with us ever since. 

8. WHICH FRUIT DID ADAM & EVE EAT?
The most common response to the question ‘what type of fruit did Adam and Eve eat in the Garden of Eden?’ is ‘apple’. Yet there is no mention of an apple in the Book of Genesis account of this story, only that they were evicted from the garden for eating ‘the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden.’ It could have been an apple, but we don’t know. Some biblical scholars think it was a fig, since Adam and Eve dressed in fig leaves, while Muslim scholars think it may have been wheat or possibly grapes.


Aquila Ponticus, a 2nd-century translator of the Old Testament, may have assumed that the apple tree in the Song of Solomon was the fruit-bearing tree in Genesis. Two centuries later, St. Jerome also linked the apple tree to the phrase ‘there wast thou corrupted’ in his Latin translation of the Old Testament. Would you Adam and Eve it?

9. Walter Raleigh introduced potatoes & tobacco to England
“I’m so tired, I’m feeling so upset.
I’m so tired, I think I’ll have another cigarette.
And curse Sir Walter Raleigh, he was such a stupid get.’
So sang John Lennon in the 1968 Beatles’ song ‘I’m So Tired’. He was having a little dig at Walter Raleigh for introducing tobacco to England. Raleigh is well known to English history as an explorer, courtier and privateer and there are a number of myths surrounding him, chief among them the story that he returned from his visit to the New World (America) with England’s first potatoes and tobacco. In reality, potatoes were actually cultivated in Italy in 1585, and their popularity spread quickly throughout Europe and across the English Channel. As for tobacco, it was Jean Nicot (for whom nicotine is named) who introduced tobacco to France in 1560, and its use spread to England from there


 10. Columbus proved that the Earth was round
The Italian explorer Christopher Columbus is widely thought to have set out to prove that the Earth was round, defying the common, flat-earther belief of the time. This theme is usually played up in movies about him, such as the 1949 pic ‘Christopher Columbus’, in which the narrator authoritatively announces within the first 30 seconds of the movie that 15th-century people generally believed the world to be flat.

The truth is that most educated Europeans of the day already knew that the world was round, and this had been a fairly common belief since the 4th century BC. Even so, Columbus himself thought that the Earth was actually pear-shaped! What he did set out to prove was that Asia was much closer than anyone thought (he was wrong).


It was American author Washington Irving in his 1828 historical novel ‘A History of the Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus’ who first portrayed the flat-earth aspects of the voyage, and Hollywood has often followed that same script. 

(Like theBoggo Blog Facebook page for more stuff like this). 



The Mysterious Escape of Fingers & Bluey

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It was very difficult to escape from Boggo Road’s No.2 Division, thanks to the high red-bricked walls and internal layout. A handful of prisoners did manage to get out of there by various means over the decades, but the modern No.1 Division, built in the 1970s, proved to be much leakier. Instead of having cellblocks on grounds within a perimeter wall, as was the case with the older prison structures, the cellblocks in the new prison were the perimeter wall. It was only in later years that high wire fences were erected outside that wall.

Aerial photo of Boggo Road, 1980s.The layout of No.1 Division, with
cell windows on the external wall, can be seen here (BRGHS).

A long series of high-profile escapes from No.1 Division during the 1980s helped to bring on the eventual closure of Boggo Road (and the demolition of 1 Division). In most cases it was quite obvious how the breakout was effected, but every once in a while there was a head-scratcher. The escape of Bateman and Russell in June 1973 was one of those mysteries.

They got out of Boggo Road following a cell fire in C Wing, the No.1 Division maximum-security block. There was also a small disturbance in the wing before the fire was extinguished. It was only on the next morning, when officers were unlocking the cells, that they realised that convicted murderer Ronald Russell, aged 29, and Trevor Bateman, a 28-year-old armed robber, had broken out. The escapees had typically ironic nicknames. Red-haired Russell was known as Bluey’, while ‘Fingers’ Batemanwas missing almost all the fingers from his right hand.

Their escape route seemed quite clear. The bars in the skylight of their cell had been spread apart, and makeshift ropes of blankets and bedsheets hung from the end of the block. 

Bateman and Russell's escape route (Courier-Mail, 20 June 1973)

Despite this trail of evidence,
even today it is unclear as to how they got out of C Wing because there are three versions of the story. An early theory adopted by the police and prison authorities suggested that they had outside help. As the front-page headline in the next day’s Courier-Mailread, ‘ACCOMPLICE BROKE IN, FREED TWO FROM JAIL’. The story went something like this:
 
 
  • The cell fire, using a mattress and wooden furniture, was lit to create a diversion.
  • One or more people climbed onto the roof of C Wing from the outside.
  • The cell bars were spread open with a jack, either by the people from the roof or by Bateman and Russell working from the inside.
  • Bateman and Russell were lifted out of the cells and slid down the side of the prison on ropes. Makeshift ropes may have been left on the site to disguise the fact that they had outside help.
  • A car was waiting for them outside.

This version of events best suited the prison authorities as it would make the escape from the new maximum-security wing somewhat less embarrassing for them.

Despite this, Bateman later maintained that he and Russell had received no outside help. He claimed that the fire was unrelated to the escape and had actually delayed it. He also claimed that they had used bar spreaders to get out.This was a small wooden block, 90mm long and 40mm square, with a hexagon nut set in one end with a bolt running through it. Placed tightly between bars, turning the nut would slowly force them apart.

This story suited the escapees because it would protect anyone who may have helped them in the escape. However, a surprising third theory was offered up by Roy Stephenson, who was superintendent of Boggo Road at the time. He claimed that: 
 
  • The bar spreader was found too easily. If it had been used successfully, it should have been hidden for future use.
  • Russell was a big man and could not have physically squeezed through the gap between the bars.
  • Therefore he must have gone through the door. The only way through the door was by unlocking it, requiring two keys to get out of the block – he must have had help from someone on the inside.
  • The condition of the prisoners upon recapture showed that they had no outside help – they were hungry and dirty.

Stephenson later told Russell that he did not believe they had got out with the bar spreaders. Russell laughed and said, “I will tell you how we really got out one of these days. You are closer to the truth than you think!”

This 'inside help' version would have suited Stephenson because he was locked in a much broader power struggle with the people who conducted the inquiry into the escape. He resigned shortly afterwards.

Bateman was recaptured two days later, drinking a chocolate malt in a Sandgate milk bar, still wearing his blue prison uniform. Russell was out for 35 days before being apprehended near Lake Manchester, northwest of Ipswich. He had been hiding in a pumping shed stocked with tins of food, and was in a dishevelled condition.

The Bateman and Russell escape did lead to changes at Boggo Road, most immediately the commencement of armed patrols around the perimeter. Acting Premier Gordon Chalk appointed Public Service Board Commissioner Pat Bredhauer to head up an enquiry into the escape. The resulting ‘Bredhauer Report’ recommended changes to the design (more watch towers, fencing, floodlighting and CCTV) and the management of the prison, much to the chagrin of Stephenson who recalled the entire episode with some venom in his memoirs Nor Iron Bars a Cage.

So which was it? Did they have outside help, inside help, or did they work alone? Although Roy Stephenson did put forward a good argument for ‘inside help’, no evidence has been unearthed to back up any of the theories. This lack of evidence suggests that Bateman and Russell did indeed work alone. They had worked together in the prison tailor shop, so would have had plenty of time and opportunity for planning.

FOOTNOTE: about ten years ago I just missed out on a chance to ask Russell about the escape myself while I was working at the Boggo Road Gaol Museum. I had been researching escapes (including Russell’s) for an exhibition and popped in to the museum one afternoon and found out that Russell had visited that very morning. He had a long chat with ‘Mr Banks’ (John Banks, the museum manager and former officer) with whom he apparently got along with very well. It is quite common for some long-term inmates to develop friendly relationships with some officers (and I should probably point out that John started work at Boggo Road after the Russell escape).


Celebrating the Trees of South Brisbane Cemetery, & Killing Their Children

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A recent visit to the South Brisbane Cemetery brought something of a major surprise. Council workers had been hard at work and the internal roadways were lined with neatly-stacked piles of freshly-cut tree branches (see photo below). As far as my colleagues in the Friends of South Brisbane Cemetery know, this is the first time in this century that such extensive work has been done with the trees, which have been getting out of control in recent decades. 

Cutting down trees is never popular but we are not talking about the arboraceous Grand Old Ladies of the cemetery - the kauri pines and the Moreton Bay figs and others that have been around longer than most people and add such character to the necropolis. It is the new growth that is being cut back, the young trees sprouting up in graves and pathways and that in years to come will irreparably damage those same graves and paths.

When the cemetery was established on the riverside slopes back in the 1860s/70s much of the land there was cleared. Early photographs show far fewer trees than we have there now. Maintaining any wooded historic cemetery requires a working balance between nature and heritage, which means carrying out the occasional clearout of new growth before it can cause further damage. The fact is that the primary purpose of the cemetery is as a resting place for Brisbane's dead. It is not a national park or a wildlife reserve, but then again the importance of suburban biodiversity can't be dismissed. The trees support a wide range of fauna including tawny frogmouths and other birds, possums (look out for the possum boxes in the trees, or the critters that always interrupt our Moonlight Tours), bats, frogs and the occasional fox... to name a few. For that reason alone it is imperative to encourage a healthy and diverse tree population at the cemetery, which is exactly what we have even after the recent cleanout.

However...   

Trees and graves are not always a good mix, as the photos below show. At least one large tree (usually the eucalypti) seems to fall every year and the heritage damage can be devastating. Last year we had two come down and several headstones were destroyed in the process. Then there is the slow damage. The roots of the massive figs will gradually push through and knock over the headstones of any grave in their path but that is something we have to live with. Those trees aren't going anywhere. New umbrella trees (another species with invasive root systems), however, need to be kept in check. There are also dozens of examples around the cemetery of trees being left to grow right next to graves and, over the decades, pushing the headstones and other stonework aside.

Over time, the combined effect of this natural damage is as bad as the sporadic outbreaks of vandalism that have plagued the cemetery over the last century. The solution, as in any suburban backyard, is to encourage plant growth without it destroying any (or too many) built structures. The Friends of South Brisbane Cemetery document ongoing damage to graves, but they also educate about the importance of the flora and fauna to be found within the cemetery.

The series of photos below show the impact of trees within the South Brisbane Cemetery. You are more than welcome to post any of your own cemetery tree (or fauna) photos to the FOSBC Facebook page.

Above: Cut branches line the cemetery roadways, May 2014 (FOSBC)
Left for long enough, the roots of these young umbrella trees would destroy this grave. (FOSBC)
This tree fell after a big storm in early 2013 and smashed several headstones,
most of which will sadly never be repaired. (FOSBC)
Slow growth damage. A sapling left to grow between two graves will
eventually push aside the stonework. (FOSBC)
Another tree that toppled in a 2013 storm, smashing the headstone right next to it.
Brisbane council workers subsequently sectioned the tree debris for removal. (FOSBC)
A tree grown directly through a grave. The litter and associated growth
has reduced to the grave to something akin to a jungle ruin. (FOSBC)
An old metal grave peg embedded in a fig tree nook, about 2 metres off the ground. (FOSBC).
A Green Treefrog (Litoria caerulea) sits in a cemetery fig tree at night. (FOSBC)


Aliens Are Not History: The Credulousness and Despair of our Times

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Remember when the History Channel used to be have shows on about History instead of UFOs, ghosts, unicorns, mermaids, or whatever else is popular this week? I can only presume that the channel executives had a meeting along the lines of 'Enough with this Hitler guy! Let's make money. People like Scooby Doo, and people like History a bit, so how about we combine the two?'


One of the shows currently infesting the channel and the minds of gullible viewers is Ancient Aliens. The History Channel's own synopsis for show reads:
'Ancient Aliens examine [sic] 75 million years of the most credible alien evidence here on Earth, from the age of the dinosaurs, to ancient Egypt, to the skies over the western desert in the present day US. Ancient cave drawings of strange creatures, an asphalt-like substance in an Egyptian pyramid made from the remains of unidentified creatures, continued mass sightings in the USA, these are just a few of the strange stories that will be investigated.'
In a nutshell, the show parrots Erich (Chariots of the Gods?) von Däniken and his theory that beings from another planet visited our ancestors and imparted their knowledge of astronomy, engineering and mathematics to them. The evidence for this can allegedly be found in ancient monuments such as the Nazca Lines, the Pyramids of Giza, and the statues of Easter Island. It's the usual amalgam of wild speculation, Logic Fails, and interviews with people of very dubious authority and hairstyles.

I read some of that von Däniken stuff over 30 years ago, and to a young mind it can seem quite convincing. But that's because you want it to be true. Only ten years earlier you believed in Santa and the Tooth Fairy. You want the universe to be full of magic and sci-fi wonder. You want there to be Sasquatch and an afterlife and aliens and dinosaurs in Scottish lakes. All that stuff would be brilliant. But don't delude yourself into believing it. 

Then, one by one, all the great myths of the 20th century were exposed. The Loch Ness monster photo was a fake. The Bermuda Triangledoesn't exist. The Face on Mars was a pile of rocks. The Bigfoot footagewas faked. Ghost photography - all fake. And so on. There were dissenting expert viewpoints to von Däniken and it soon became apparent that he was talking out of his hat. The great Carl Sagansummed it up beautifully when he wrote:
"That writing as careless as von Däniken's, whose principal thesis is that our ancestors were dummies, should be so popular is a sober commentary on the credulousness and despair of our times... I also hope for the continuing popularity of books like Chariots of the Gods? in high school and college logic courses, as object lessons in sloppy thinking." (foreword to The Space Gods Revealed)
In the 21st century the hoaxes seem to be getting more elaborate and taking the form of TV series, but they are still easily debunked by those who know better. A couple of good articles that pull Ancient Aliens apart like Clive Palmer with a Cheese and Bacon Twister are 'I remember why I've never wanted satellite television' and'Ancient Aliens, or Why I Hate the History Channel'. South Park also did a brilliant send-up of the History Channel and Ancient Aliens:


They're laughing at you, History Channel.

Is the History Channel presenting these documentaries as 'object lessons in sloppy thinking', as Sagan would have hoped? It would seem not. Even though von Däniken has been consistently discredited by scientists and historians, his fantastical theories continue to find an audience, primarily with the same old aim of extracting cash from them. A fool and his money...

Other so-called 'educational' channels such as Nat Geo and Discovery are getting in on the act with increasing amounts of pseudoscience and pseudohistory content. Even Animal Planet is debasing itself with 'haunted pet' shows and entire series on Bigfoot hunting. Any sensible person knows that these creatures don't exist. It is beyond delusion to think that a very large bipedal mammal could somehow go unseen in the United States of America, of all places. Especially when real scientists are discovering the tiniest of new species each week. Yet here we have 'Finding Bigfoot', a series about a pack of dropkicks pretending to be hunting for something that every last one of them must surely know doesn't actually exist. The important thing, however, is that they get to be on TV and make money. So maybe they're not dropkicks after all.

It's sad that David Attenborough lived long enough to see this happen. Let's hope he hasn't noticed.   

We can't even invoke that disingenuous last line of defence for paranormal frauds - "it's just a bit of fun". Not only do the people serving this stuff up demand to be taken seriously, but this it is actually affecting the worldview of a lot of vulnerable people. For example, when singer Kate Perry told Rolling Stone in 2011 that she had become obsessed with Ancient Aliens because 'When it talks about the sky people, how everyone comes from the sky and how the Pyramids were used for star observations, it's too much for me. It all seems to connect the dots. It's blowing my mind,' you just know she has millions of impressionable fans taking that opinion on board. Hey kids, only losers 'connect the dots' in a logical sequence. 

And society takes another little step closer towards Idiocracy. 

Why are large sections of the TV-viewing western world retreating into an Age of Unreason? Is 21st-century mass communication allowing people to exist in cocoons of their own unreality, cherry-picking sources of information that conform to and reinforce their own worldview, so their mind moves in ever-decreasing circles? We all do it to some extent, but has it allowed certain Australian governments to seemingly give up on evidence-based solutions to social problems (crime, climate change, communications infrastructure, you name it), yet find wide support for their wilful ignorance? If scientists can be ignored, what chance have historians got? When Australian Education Minister Christopher Pyne launches culture wars to demand children are taught his view of History, how do historians push back? Projects like Honest History will help, but when supposedly authoritative outlets like the History Channel actively engage in dumbing down history it gets that much harder. 

The last word here goes to Keith Fitzpatrick-Matthews over at Bad Archaeology, who summed the whole sorry mess up like this:
'I find it incredible and frightening that a worldwide distributed television channel that bills itself as ‘The History Channel’ can broadcast such rubbish as Ancient Aliens. If it were an entertainment programme, I’d have fewer worries (although it would still make me cross); it is the implied authority of the channel (‘The History Channel’, not just any old ‘History Channel’) that makes the broadcast of this series so potentially damaging... A channel that is making claims for its authoritative status, which offers educational resources, has a responsibility not to mislead its viewers (no doubt its executives think of them as ‘customers’). That responsibility is one that all makers and broadcasters of supposedly factual television have, but one that few of them take seriously: the responsibility to check facts.'



 



Know Your Colonial Gaol History #13: The first Boggo Road prison, 1883

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HM Prison, Brisbane, 1887. The original cellblock
stands in the centre of the prison.
At the start of the 1880s there were two prisons in the Brisbane area, one on Petrie Terrace and one on St Helena Island. The Petrie Terrace facility was felt to be inadequate for future needs and was already being scaled down when construction on a new male prison began off Boggo Road, in what was then part of Woolloongabba (but is now Dutton Park).

HM Prison, Brisbane (or ‘Boggo Road’, as it was colloquially known) opened in July 1883. It sat rather grandly on a prominent rise and a visiting reporter described it as looking like ‘a country gentleman’s mansion within its own grounds’. The high redbrick perimeter walls were more imposing than any prison walls before built in the colony, and the building had the presence of a castle on the hill.
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The first prison built there was used to hold short-term inmates and those awaiting trial. Longer-term prisoners were still sent to St Helena Island out on Moreton Bay.

The driveway to the main gates of 1 Division, Boggo Road (undated, BRGHS)
 
Boggo Road initially consisted of a single cellblock, three storeys high and containing 62 usable single cells, although the number of prisoners held there was often double the intended capacity. At this time it was common for three men to be sharing a cell designed to hold only one. Fortunately there was plenty of room to expand inside the perimeter walls and two new cellblocks were added by 1887, each containing 36 cells over three floors. These were extended in 1890, creating another 48 cells. The prison was built with the 'radial' design popular at the time, in which the cellblocks faced onto a single central point, allowing for enhanced control of movement of the inmates.

There was also a new innovation in the form of an internal gallows. These were built inside the original ‘A Wing’ cellblock and were designed to enhance the privacy of execution. Hangings had been carried out in prison yards since the introduction of privacy laws in the 1850s, but it was not until the installation of the gallows at Boggo Road that the public could be completely prevented from seeing anything.   

Despite this, the old timber gallows from Petrie Terrace were transported over and stored in a yard, and were used for one last time when three men were hanged together at Boggo Road in October 1883. This was Queensland’s first and only triple hanging. The internal gallows were used for the first time in 1884. Boggo Road became the colony's execution centre from that time on, hosting 42 of the next 43 hangings to take place in Queensland.

Compound inside entrance to No.1 Division, c.1915 (BRGHS).
The workshops from the old Petrie Terrace prison were transferred to St Helena, and so in the earliest years most hard labour at the new Brisbane Prison involved destumping the surrounding land (making way for the neighbouring school which opened in 1884) and, for the younger inmates, picking oakum (old ship rope). A few worked at tinsmithing, carpentry, shoemaking and matmaking. This last trade in particular was expanded with the construction of matmaking workshops.

This new prison underwent massive changes over its lifespan. In 1903 a prison for women opened right next door, resulting in the original prison becoming known as the ‘Male Division’ while the other was the ‘Female Division’. It stayed this way until 1921 when the female prisoners were moved to a smaller nearby facility and both prisons were now used for the men. The Male Division was now ‘1 Division’ and the former female prison became ‘2 Division’, appellations that remained in place until the end, when 1 Division closed in 1992 after 109 years of service. It had actually been completely rebuilt in stages during the 1960s-70s, with the old redbrick structure being replaced with white-painted besser blocks and steel. This new 1 Division turned out to be not that well designed and during the 1980s it leaked prisoners like a sieve, leading to its eventual closure and demolition. But that’s a story for another day.

Panorama of No.1 Division, 1970s (BRGHS). The newer white-walled prison surrounds the
original A Wing and G Wing dormitory, which were also replaced by 1978.
  

The 'Lingering Doubts' of Brisbane's 1947 'Arcade Murder'

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The murder of Bronia Armstrong in Brisbane in 1947 turned into a double tragedy when Reginald Brown hanged himself in Boggo Road’s F Wing just a few days after being found guilty of the crime. The authors of the new book Lingering Doubts (Deb Drummond and Janice Teunis) took another look at the case and discovered serious discrepancies that suggest there are - as the title suggests - lingering doubts about the verdict.

I recently interviewed Deb Drummond about the new book: 

Congratulations on Lingering Doubts. What made you and Janice decide to research and write this book?
JaniceTeunis
Deb Drummond
It began so simply - curiosity. Although, if I had any inkling about the enormity of what I was setting in motion, I may have walked away from the State Library and had a coffee instead of leaving with a bundle of newsprint.

My scrap book grew until Bob Bottom, respected investigative journalist, read the material. Bob went so far as to suggest a title for the story, which he said should be told, not only for the sake of our family but also in the public interest. 

My cousin, Janice, was equally disturbed by glaring anomalies and, at her prompting, our partnership was formed. We began the long and arduous research that produced this book.In fact each injustice uncovered, made not writing Lingering Doubts, no longer an option. 

The short answer: we wanted to give our grandfather the voice he was denied from the moment Brisbane detectives targeted him. 

Could you outline the types of injustices and anomalies you came across? 

Where do we start?

From the outset, without legal representation, our grandfather was interrogated by Det. ‘Stewie’ Kerr (later Comptroller General of Prisons) and Det. Sub-Inspector Frank Bischof (later Police Commissioner). Verbal accounts from various police officers were inconsistent and conflicting.

Boggo Road Gaol authorities confiscated the notes Reg Brown attempted to hand his solicitor. A known criminal was ‘discovered’ by police as a witness. A physical health problem our grandfather suffered from was concealed. And so it goes on... 

In the book, you have acknowledged varying forms of assistance from dozens of people over the last seven years. The story has obviously been extensively researched – do you feel that the research is now complete? 

We are surprised at the interest Reg Brown’s story has generated and grateful for the support we have received and continue to receive (yourself included). Over the years the Queensland Police Service has readily allowed us access to files and material, without which, the task of advocating for our grandfather would have been impossible.  We’d like to think we’ve exhausted all avenues but hope our book might prove to be a springboard, so to speak, and more information may surface. To help with this endeavour, one of our supporters and family friend, Emma Starr, has designed our website. Our dream is that one day a, perhaps retired, legal professional will read Lingering Doubts and feel inclined to continue where we left off. 

How much has this research changed your own perception of your grandfather? What effect has it had for your wider family?

Reginald Brown
When we started this journey, we (and our sisters and cousins) had no perception of our grandfather at all as he was missing from our childhood and our parents did not speak of him until we were adults – and then only to reluctantly disclose scant details about his arrest and imprisonment. My Dad, and Janice’s Mum, are well into their eighties now and retain wonderful memories of their father, Reg Brown. It’s taken enormous courage on their part to come forward and offer their contributions to Lingering Doubts. Although release from their crippling secret is liberating to a degree, they have had to relive the horror that shattered their family. The good thing is they now know much more than they ever knew.

Positive perceptions of our grandfather have consolidated as we began to meet him vicariously through archived material and personal memories of those who really knew  him.   We regret this loving family man was not in our lives. 

This whole story is obviously within living memory for some of your family.  How does the wider family feel about that story being used commercially in an unsympathetic manner? 

Two of Reginald Brown’s children, teenagers at the time of the murder, are now in their 80s and have borne the stigma of their father’s ‘crime’ all their lives.  By very careful analysis of all relevant details available to us via archived police files, trial transcripts and our interviews with people who were involved at the time, we believe we have made a credible argument for our grandfather’s innocence, and displayed the deviousness of police and the Crown prosecutor.

Our book needs to be read in comparison with other available works on this crime. The family thinks anyone peddling this very sad story needs to understand there is compelling evidence to suggest the tale being promulgated is a fabrication of cobbled half-truths. 

Where can people get the book from? 

Books are available at our talks and at our book launch, details of which are on our website. They can also be purchased on  and at Copyright Publishing, and at The Book Bank (Top Floor, Toowong Village, Toowong). 

February 2014

Know Your Colonial Gaol History #14: The 2nd Rockhampton Gaol 1884-1948

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The first Rockhampton prison, built in 1864 on land bordered by South and Murray streets, was in serious disrepair by the late 1870s and had insufficient space for female prisoners, and so a brand new prison was planned. This was built on North Street during 1878-79 by contractor John Ferguson (tendered at £10,475), but the warders' quarters were not completed for another five years, so the facility was not officially proclaimed as a prison until 16 September 1884. Serving inmates were transferred from the old prison during that month.

The new Rockhampton prison was set on two acres and surrounded by a 6-metre-high brick wall on a plinth of sandstone and concrete foundations. On either side of the main entrance were the staff quarters, leading into a central court planted with ornamental shrubs. The internal buildings were built according to the popular ‘radial’ design, spanning around in a semi-circle to front onto the court area. 

The front of Rockhampton Prison, c.1913 (BRGHS).

 
Plan of Rockhampton Prison, 1887 ('1887 Inquiry into Gaols')

On one side of this court was the male cellblock, containing 13 whitewashed single cells on the ground floor and an ‘associated ward’ with dormitory space for 30 men upstairs. During the 1880s the cell beds consisted boards on trestles and no mattresses were supplied, although inmates got four blankets in summer and five in winter. At the end of the wing was a one-storey building containing solitary cells and the hospital. The solitary cells, used for punishment, measured just 2 metres by 2.3 metres and were ventilated by a 30cm-square grating. The air in these dark pits was described a ‘musty and heavy, and far from healthy’.

On the other side of the court was the female wing. It had nine single cells and an associated ward for up to 20 women, although the numbers of female inmates rarely reached double figures. In charges of all these inmates were the chief gaoler, head warder, five male warders and one female warder. 

The central court of Rockhampton Prison, c.1914 (BRGHS)

A kitchen and four yards also opened up onto the central court. Water was supplied by a
25,000 gallon underwater tank

Prisoners sentenced to more than 12 months were sent to Brisbane or St Helena Islandso the prison was rarely crowded, although there were two occasions when it was filled well beyond capacity. The first was in 1891 after the arrest of over 100 prisoners during the shearers’ strike of 1891The second was during WW2 when U.S. troops were stationed in Rockhampton, and over 200 men were reportedly held in the prison at one time, mostly for minor offences.

In 1887 Rockhampton was the only prison in the colony to still be using shot drill as punishment in lieu of hard labour, but in later years the prisoners made brushes, brooms and coir mats.

Mat shop, Rockhampton Prison, c.1913 (BRGHS).
The prison hosted one execution, that of Rockhampton wife-murderer Michael Barry in 1890. This was the only hanging to ever be conducted outside of Boggo Road after that prison had opened in 1883.

The prison is demolished in 1947
(Morning Bulletin).
The small number of inmates held at the prison during the 1930s led to the rather confusing reclassification of the building from being a prison to a 'gaol' in November 1939. This meant that it could only hold prisoners sentenced to 30 days or less, although in reality it had already been used in that way for several years anyway. It was, in effect, a police gaol that was still under the control of the prisons department. 

This changed when the adjoining police watchhouse on Bolsover Street was extended with the addition of new cells to accommodate up to 20 prisoners, allowing the older North Street Rockhampton to be demolished in 1947. The Bolsover Street facility - now Rockhampton's third prison - was proclaimed to be a police gaol in May 1948 (coming under the control of the police department), so ending the era of the early Rockhampton prisons. 

20 years later, however, another prison was to open in Rockhampton, and today the Capricornia Correctional Centre, 20 kilometres north of the city, continues the penal presence in the region.

The Bolsover Street gaol, 1947 (Morning Bulletin).

A Damned Good Flogging

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Flogging, Darlinghurst Gaol, NSW, 1880s.

‘BRING BACK FLOGGING!’ We hear it often enough, and there would be plenty of volunteers to carry them out, but it’s been a very long time since anybody saw one happen in a Queensland prison. As with hangings, it is something that has disappeared from public memory and little is known about what it was actually like. Despite this, we do have some surprisingly graphic accounts of 19th-century prison floggings in Brisbane thanks to the relative transparency of the prison authorities and the news media of the time.

The following tale of prison floggings follows the punishment of three so-called 'larrikins'. They were Daniel Carmichael, James Toohey, and William Phillips, who one July night in 1885 garroted and robbed Bill Campbell near the Exchange Hotel in Charlotte Street, Brisbane. They were soon caught and convicted of the assault. Toohey got two years’ hard labour, with two floggings of 40 lashes each, and Phillips received two years and two floggings of 30 lashes each. Carmichael (who had also attempted to use a knife on the arresting constable) got two years and three floggings - the first with 50 lashes and the other 20 with 40 each. 

Floggings were of course nothing new to Brisbane, and the original Moreton Bay Penal Settlement of the 1820s was notorious for the ferocity of the lashings ordered by Captain Patrick Logan. The convict days, however, were long over and floggings of the late 19th-century were handed out only occasionally and privately in limited amounts and care was taken to provide on-hand medical supervision.

The first round of the floggings of the three garrotters happened in an exercise yard at the still-newish prison off Boggo Road on a Saturday morning in September 1885, just a week or so after sentencing. Two other prisoners joined them for similar punishment that day. One was Johnny, an Aboriginal man from the Dawson River, sentenced to 25 lashes for attempted criminal assault on a young girl, and the other was a Townsville youth named Miles, sentenced to 25 lashes for criminally assaulting a young girl.

Cat o' nine tails.
Such men were transported to Brisbane to receive their punishment because that was where the hangman was based. It was part of his job requirement and not one he relished, because in contrast to his more fatal line of work his flogging victims might meet well bump into him in the street in time to come. The hangman was 1885 was a new one, Henry Flude, a Fortitude Valley greengrocer. He was described that morning as being ‘a powerfully built muscular man of middle age, bareheaded and stripped to a light jersey and pair of trousers’. He held the dreaded cat-o'-nine tails, comprised of a lightweight handle about 75 cm long and covered in green baize, attached to nine thick pieces of whipcord 90 cm long with four knots in each. 

Also present that day were reporters, three parliamentarians, prison warders, the under-sheriff and two doctors. Carmichael, the first to be flogged, was tightly lashed by the warders to the timber ‘triangle’ on the side of the punishment yard. He was stripped to the waist and his arms were stretched above his head and lashed to the top of the triangle with cord, with strips of blanket wrapped around his wrists to prevent the cord cutting into the flesh. His legs were stretched apart and strapped just above the knees to the framework, and another strap around his waist bound him tightly to the crossbars of the triangle. Once again blankets were placed between him and the apparatus, with one stretched across for him to rest his head against. He was now only capable of very little movement.
 
The flogging triangle displayed
at Old Melbourne Gaol.
The hidden executioner was then beckoned from a nearby room and carefully measured his distance, took up a position to the left side of Carmichael, drew back his arm, and waited for the signal from the chief warder. This was Woodward, who called out each stroke in turn from ‘One’. The first lash left a red trace on Carmichael’s back and he howled out in pain. Flude laid the cat with the regularity of clockwork in various parts of Carmichael’s back and each time Carmichael yelled out. As one reporter wrote:

‘By the twentieth stroke the red scores of the different strokes could hardly be distinguished, and the prisoner's back was one red quivering mass. At the twenty-ninth stroke the dark blood, which had made its appearance in small clots after the first few lashes, began to ooze from the lacerated flesh and trickle down his back, but still the blows fell one after another with pitiless regularity.’ (Brisbane Courier, 14 September 1885)

By the 40th stroke Carmichael was close to fainting, only capable of uttering quiet moans, and his limp body hung by his arms. After Woodward called out ‘fifty’ he was untied and cut loose and two warders supported him while water was poured over his head and down his throat, although he could not hold his head up to drink. As he was led away he murmured ‘Oh, I'm innocent ; I'm innocent’. The executioner quietly walked back to his room before his next victim, Toohey, was brought into the yard. The other prisoners had been in an adjacent yard waiting their turn, and could hear but not see what was going on over the yard wall.

Toohey was a young man and approached the triangle with a confident swagger, but his attitude changed as he was strapped to the frame. He managed to keep his eyes fixed on Flude for the first three lashes but cried out after the fourth. That said, he did take the punishment with ‘great fortitude’ and even though this flogging was somewhat more severe than the previous one, Toohey generally managed to stifle his groans. Despite this the pain he was suffering was evident by ‘the trembling of his flesh and convulsive quivering of his legs’. At the end he was given water and led away in a semi-conscious condition.

At this point the blood-soaked knots on the cat-o'-nine tails were becoming loose so Flude swapped it for a new one.

As Phillips, the third garroter, was being strapped up he complained that it   would ‘cut right into his bones’. He put on an air of youthful indifference and bore the punishment quietly, although a piece of leather and metal in his mouth was spat out as he gasped at the third stroke. Blood appeared with the 14th stroke. At the end Phillips refused water and assistance with walking. The next man was brought into the yard:
Johnny was next and he, a short thick-set aboriginal from the Dawson River, was next tied up and received twenty-five lashes, howling and yelling vigorously all the while, and rendered almost frantic with the pain. He kicked his legs about and remained suspended by his hands, and when the flogging was finished was in a fainting and exhausted condition. Though his skin was tough he seemed more susceptible of pain than his fellow-sufferers, and screamed out in his own language, ‘Oh, mai-mai mai-me.’’(Brisbane Courier, 14 September 1885)
Miles, the last of the prisoners, generally behaved as though nothing was the matter, although his arms and legs trembled violently. He said to Flude, ‘Don't hit me on the ribs, old man; hit me fair on the back’. At the ninth stroke he called out a reminder, ‘Hit higher up, not underneath the ribs’, as he did with the fourteenth. Apart from that he was quiet during the punishment. Once untied he refused assistance, saying, ‘You needn't hold me; I'm not going to faint for 25 lashes; I don't want any of your water’, and left the yard calling out, ‘I could take 200 lashes; it isn't the first time I've had a taste of the cat’.

The original Boggo Road prison at it looked in 1887.
The floggings took place in one of the yards near
the central cellblock. (BRGHS)
Each prisoner afterwards received treatment from the doctors, who laid spermaceti plaster on their back wounds. The three garroters were said to be ‘now as meek as children’. Carmichael sat cowed on his bed, while Toohey was semi-conscious, suffering intensely and feeling faint. Phillips, who had refused assistance from the warders, was now lying face down on his bed at full length ‘in a half-fainting condition’. He attempted to appear indifferent but was betrayed by his continual twinges of pain.

Johnny was weak and suffering acutely but Miles leapt to his feet and walked about as the doctors entered the cell. He told Dr Hobbs that ‘I feel right enough, doctor. There's nothing the matter with me, only a stinging on the back.’

The three garroters were handed their second installment of pain in November. As the time approached they were reported to have an ‘uneasy demeanour’ and Phillips, the first to the triangle, was ‘pale but firm’. He screamed or groaned every time the cat flayed his back, and when they reached 21 of his allotted 30 lashes the doctor raised his hand to stop the proceedings. He judged Phillips to be too exhausted to take any more and he was assisted back to his cell.

Toohey was next and appeared determined to not cry out, and he held out until the fourth lash but then screamed his way through the next 36. Carmichaelwould have unwillingly heard every one of those cries and when his turn came he was clearly terrified. He was strapped to the triangle, the scars of his previous flogging still fresh, and even before the scourger’s arm was raised for the first time Carmichael ‘gave vent to a piercing yell’. This continued until his 13th lash before the doctor intervened again and Carmichael was taken back to his cell, where he broke down and ‘sobbed piteously’, obviously horrified that a third flogging was yet to come.

All three prisoners were given a small drink of brandy both before and after their punishment, and even now still protested their innocence.

Carmichael’s final flogging took place in late February 1886. By this time he was apparently ‘completely unmanned’ and afraid that the third flogging would be too much for him. As he was conducted to the triangle he reportedly ‘looked the picture of abject terror, his face pale and contorted, and the muscles of his back and legs quivering with fright’.

Once strapped up he turned to Dr Hobbs and said, ‘O, doctor, tell him to be quick about it, tell him to be quick about it; oh God! oh God!’ He leaned his head against his arm and began moaning. Hobbs ordered that brandy be given to Carmichael. Although Flude applied the lash with regularity and rapidity it was clear that he was ‘laying it on very lightly’. Despite this, Carmichael groaned with every stroke and for the 15 kept calling out ‘Oh, have mercy, have mercy!’ Then his head sank between his arms and he groaned until the 40 lashes were up. At the end he was taken down and given more brandy and water.
‘He was completely broken down, and still moaned as two warders supported him across the yard back to his cell. Halfway across he stopped and retched violently, although he seemed unable to vomit. But though weak from exhaustion, and smarting with pain, there was a look of relief on his face as though he realised that he had endured his last flogging, and had nothing worse to look forward to than rest and imprisonment until his term had expired.’ (Brisbane Courier, 1 March 1886)

The kind of corporal punishment frame used in
Queensland prisons in later decades.
(FOOTNOTE: The use of the triangle had more or else or died out in Queensland prisons by the end of the 19th century although corporal punishment continued. One of the last men to be flogged here was an Aboriginal man called Joe Sullivan, who received 18 lashes (and two years) in Townsville in 1930 for an ‘attempted serious offence’ against a small girl. This was reportedly carried out with a ‘cat’ at Stewarts Creek prison. In 1934 another Aboriginal man, Herbert Miller, was sentenced to 20 strokes with a leather strap on his bare buttocks for a similar offence in Cairns. Corporal punishment was long since been abolished in Queensland prisons. The only place that corporal punishment is now legal in Queensland is in private boys' schools) 


Where Were They From? A 'Where's-Where' of Colonial Queensland Prisoners

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Unlike the glossy, spin-manipulated brochures that pass for government department reports today, annual prison reports used to provide frank warts-and-all assessments of the system. Even better, they were full of massively detailed statistics on thousands of inmates including - among other categories - their ages, occupations, educational background, nationality and religion. Need to know the number of Presbyterians held in Roma Gaol during 1888? It's all in the reports (the answer is 8, by the way). 

These reports are a mine of data on the population of late-19th-century Queensland (or at least on those people who broke the law), and the nationality tables demonstrate the true multi-racial nature of the colony.

The nationality classification system for the reports would change periodically, so what I have reproduced here are the figures for 1888-97 when prison reports consistently used the following categories: 

Table showing prisoner numbers 1888-97 according to nationality categories in
the annual reports for Queensland prisons (C. Dawson).

The more detailed tables in the annual reports show regional variances. The prisons near the northern goldfields, for example, were more likely to hold Chinese inmates. The heavy Japanese involvement in the pearl diving industry is also reflected in the northern prison numbers. Unfortunately other Asian residents such as Malays and Filipinos were lumped together in the 'Other Asian' category, but would have still figured prominently in the north.

Indians were also a significant minority although many were indentured agricultural labourers and were not permitted to stay in the colony once their work was done. The Queensland Aliens Act 1861 excluded most Asians and Indians from naturalisation and freehold titles, and these groups suffered under restrictive and inequitable workplace laws that resulted in many prison sentences.  

This period was also the height of the South Sea Islander presence in the central coast sugar plantations and they were the biggest non-white demographic in the prisons during this time, even outnumbering Aboriginal peoples. Most of their crimes were petty, but the imprisonment rate was fuelled by racial paranoia in the sugar areas.

The Germans were a significant immigrant group that were allowed to settle and left their mark in Queensland placenames, but despite their relatively free legal status they still made up a large percentage of the prison population.

It was a surprise to find the Danes singled out from the 'Other Countries' category and featuring prominently. The poor Danish economy and Queensland government incentives contributed to this, and by the 1890s about half of the Danes living in Australia had entered via Queensland. 18% of all non-British people naturalised in Queensland before 1903 were from Denmark.

There are a few curios of the age in the nationality categories, such as 'British America' which referred to the Caribbean states and Canada. It is also clear that a sizeable population of Africans were in the colony at the time.

The groups at the top of the table provide no surprises. Aborigines had felt the sting of British law since 1788, and the huge numbers of British and Irish immigrants in the 19th century is also well reflected in the prisoner numbers, as was the ever-increasing demographic of native-born Australians.

Queensland prisons of the 1880s-'90s were a potpourri of nationalities, a result of proactive mid-century immigration policies and the demands and attractions of specific industries such as sugar and gold. Ethnically-targetted laws resulted in some groups being overrepresented in the prison population where, as will be discussed in a later article here, racial tensions were high and created problems for the prison authorities.







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