The Great Fire of Ipswich Town, 1861

Like most towns in colonial Queensland, Ipswich was largely made up of timber structures and was therefore extremely vulnerable to fire.  Added to this, few towns had fire brigades and, such fire “engines” that existed, were limited to ladders, hand pumps, and buckets. 

A well-equipped Colonial fire-engine

The Great Fire of Ipswich broke out just after midnight in Brisbane Street on a night in February 1861.  A reporter from the North Australian (the fore runner of the Queensland Times) was on the spot.[1]  The flowery nature of his prose of the time makes the report sound almost flippant.

The Fire Bell is now pealing forth its dolorous sound, one which has not been heard for many, many months in Ipswich. Upon proceeding to the spot, from whence a large column of flame was shooting high into the heavens, we found the shop of Lang, bookmaker, of Brisbane-street one mass of flame.

Report in the North Australian

It is needless to point out to those acquainted with Ipswich, the match box character of that and the principle number of the adjacent buildings: Mr. Bulcock’s, fruiterer, Mr. Given’s, jeweller, Mr. Hughes confectioner, Mr. Challinor’s, photographist, and innumerable small buildings in the rear were immediately one mass of flame, thus extending a considerable distance along Brisbane and rounding into Nicholas-street.

The boys on night shift at the Newspaper rallied to the fight.

Attempts were made, and in several cases successfully, to save property, and a large quantity of valuable jewellery, watches &c., were wrested from the flames, from the establishment of Mr. Given’s, and conveyed to the Post Office which Mr. Gill kindly opened for their reception. The young men of the North Australian being on night duty were this first at Mr. Given’s, gave the alarm, and saved the larger portion of his property.

By 1:30am several buildings were destroyed at the fire was still raging.  The citizens of Ipswich set to removing materials from the path of the flames. Dating from Roman times and used during the Great Fire of London in 1666, the standard method of dealing with a large town fire was to tear down the buildings in its path and thus create fire breaks.

Brisbane Street looking towards Limestone Hill, 1890s.

The fire is still fiercely raging; the houses above alluded to have been reduced by the flames into heaps of glowing ashes. In Challinor’s and Hanran’s North Star Hotel; the latter being a brick house, the shingles from the roof are quickly falling beneath the axe. In Nicholas-street, the houses adjacent to Mr. Given’s, which were separated by a garden, have just ignited at the southern end, but vigorous attempts are being made to level with the earth, and remove from the passage of the flames,  the materials of the untouched tenements.

On the corner of Brisbane and Ellenborough Streets, The north Star Hotel was saved.  The hero of the piece was brave soul dubbed Garribaldi’ who bravely stayed at his post on the hotel roof.[2]

It is almost a miracle how the flames did not set the North Star Hotel on fire. There is only an interval of some eight or nine feet between it and Mr. Challinor's house. A number of blankets were laid on the shingle roof of the hotel, and half a dozen men kept pouring water on; but, had it not been for their exertions, the building would certainly have been destroyed. 

Ipswich from Limestone Hill, 1870s

There was one man in particular, named Elias B. Cayzer, who stuck to his post on the roof whilst the spectators were driven back across the whole breadth of the street by the heat. "Garibaldi," or "Salamander," [3] as the bystanders christened him, for the want of his real name, remained on the roof till the last, although his comrades had to be frequently relieved, for no ordinary amount of human endurance could have withstood the fierce heat.

Report in the North Australian

The bard-like reporter from the North Australian summed up the mood of the citizenry of Ipswich in the fire’s aftermath.[4]

There we must pause. After the destruction of thousands of pounds of property, people looked into each other’s faces and enquired:-

“Where is our Engine? Where is our Fire Brigade?”

And Echo[5] answered, derisively: – “Where?‘‘

© K. C. Sbeghen, 2011.

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[1] The North Australian 21.2.1863

[2] The Courier 23.2.1863

[3]Numerous legends have developed around the salamander over the centuries, many related to fire. This connection likely originates from the tendency of many salamanders to dwell inside rotting logs. When placed into a fire, the salamander would attempt to escape from the log, lending to the belief that salamanders were created from flames — a belief that gave the creature its name.(Wikipedia)

[4] The North Australian 21.2.1863

[5] In Greek mythology, Echo was a mountain nymph who loved her own voice.

Colonial Ironman - The Flying Pieman

One of the many colourful Colonial characters was an Englishman named William Francis King (1807-1873), who styled himself “The Flying Pieman.".

"The Flying Pieman" and his steam-powered legs

Born in London he arrived in Sydney in 1829 and after working as a teacher and tutor amongst other professions.  The story goes that after a disastrous love affair with a female convict, William King morphed into the “Flying Pieman”, professional pedestrian and strongman.  Working as a pie vendor on the streets of Sydney, he would sell his pastries to passengers boarding the ferry for Parramatta, and then race to Parramatta to meet the docking ferry to continue selling his wares.

He soon adopted a costume including red knee breeches, tight-fitting jacket, and a jockey's cap. He carried a walking pole decorated with colourful ribbons and extended his repertoire to many and varied tests of endurance, taking wagers against his powers of long distance walking.[1]

On Saturday last, for a trifling wager, he walked five miles within a certain time, again accomplishing the feat.

On Monday afternoon, at 3 o'clock, he commenced a task which is probably unparalleled in the annals of pedestrianism; it was no less than that of walking 102 miles in 48 consecutive hours, with the express stipulation that during the task he was never to cease walking for a single minute.

Three men undertook the task of timing his movements, taking turns, one walking with him, one trimming the fire and keeping tally, and one sleeping. At three o'clock yesterday afternoon twenty four hours he had accomplished 102 miles, and although then looking jaded and slightly lame, he freshened up again after sundown, and expressed confidence in his power to win.

He toured extensively in the other Australian Colonies, adding, as he went along, new feats of strength and endurance to his routine.  In 1848, he brought his performance to Ipswich.[2]

The Flying Pieman performed here yesterday the feats which he proposed performing at Brisbane, viz.: wheeling a barrow half a mile, running forward half a mile, running backward half a mile, walking one mile, picking up fifty stones one yard apart and placing them in a basket.

As a gig could not be procured, he, instead carried a large goat half a mile; and made thirty eight leaps 2 ft. 10 in. High -  fifty leaps were the number he intended having made, but as the bars were put four inches higher than he ordered, he was foiled in the remaining twelve - he, however, completed the whole undertaking in 85 minutes, being ten minutes less than his stated time, although the day was very sultry.

He now talks of trying the tape feat; that is, to wind, while walking, a piece of tape 100 yards long, around a pitchfork handle, one inch and a half in diameter, and placed perpendicularly in the ground. This will, however, depend upon the encouragement he receives.

One of his most popular feats in his program, was to be harnessed to a gig[3] and to pull a generously sized young lady, armed with a whip, about a circuit.[4]

THE FLYING PIEMAN. - The extraordinary athletic powers of this celebrated individual will be exhibited in a variety of feats of strength and pedestrianism, on Thursday next. King will undertake to draw a young lady from ten to fourteen bumping stone weight, in a gig, round the course, with reins and whip in her hand, in order to prevent the gallant Pieman from flying away with her, should he put in action the full power of his steam leg-walking-speed-pace!

After a long performance career, Bill King ended as he had started, selling pies in the streets of Sydney, never abandoning “The Flying Pieman” persona. He was ever the gregarious showman until his health declined and he spent his last days in a charity ward.[5]

The Pieman Bill King in later years and reduced circumstances.

PERHAPS there was not an individual in Sydney better known than King, or, as he preferred to style himself, the "Walking Flying Pieman,"-and he once revelled in the possession of a pie can of large dimensions, with which he nimbly paraded the streets, delivering impromptu panegyrics on the pies he had for sale, and comments on the politics of the day.

For some months past he was evidently sinking, and though so emaciated as to be scarcely able to drag himself along the street, he still kept up a flicker of his former volubility, and might be seen making feeble efforts to harangue little boys, and even "children of a larger growth," at street corners.

A short time since he was admitted to the Infirmary, and from there removed to the Benevolent Asylum at Liverpool, where he died on the 12th instant.

 © K. C. Sbeghen, 2011.

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[1] Sydney Chronicle 4.9.1847

[2] The Moreton Bay Courier 4.11.1848

[3] Small horse-drawn two-wheeled vehicle.

[4] The Moreton Bay Courier 26.5.1849

[5] The Brisbane Courier 26.8.1873

Melting Cheques on the Spree

Bush Inn near Ipswich - note Aboriginal Man and Woman

We’ll have a spree in town,

We’ll live like pigs in clover,

And it’s many the cheque

Poured down the neck,

Of many a Queensland drover.[1]

In 1854, a correspondent to the Moreton Bay Courier lamented the scale of intemperance in Ipswich.[2]

I believe that much of the ill-repute arises from the periodical influx of careless and thirsty fools, who earn their money in the bush, and "melt their cheques" in Ipswich. At the same time there is one practice to which I feel that I ought to call imperatively the attention both of the public and of the public authorities. I allude to the practice of selling liquors on the Sunday, a practice carried to an outrageous extent by the publicans, and disgracefully winked at by the constables.

Nicholas Street, Ipswich (Central Hotel is on the left)

Those “on the spree” continued their debauch even on the Lord’s Day.

The scenes which arise hence are most offensive to all lovers of decency, and especially to all who desire to see the Sabbath day kept holy. One instance, among many, will serve. It was communicated to me by one of the most respected inhabitants of this town, with a special   request that I would make it public. As this gentleman was passing a certain public house in or near Little Ipswich, on Sunday, 17th ult., at 5 o'clock in the afternoon, four or five men turned cut in the street, from the said public house, stripped naked to the waist, to have a fight, and this in the sight of a congregation returning from the worship of God.

The Spree often had much more serious outcomes.[3]

MURDERS AND SUICIDE.--We have just been made acquainted by a bush correspondent with the following particulars of a dreadful catastrophe, which occurred at a public-house. Two men, it appears, have been murdered, and one of the murderers has been apprehended, while the other committed suicide, preferring to fly into the presence of his Maker rather than meet an earthly tribunal.

Roughly Built Bush Hotel

 It would appear that a number of persons had been drinking about the inn, and, on some quarrel ensuing, one of them took up a gun and shot another dead on the spot; another, who was a shoemaker, residing in the neighbourhood, took up a tomahawk, and felled another man (a shepherd), who had been on the spree, to the ground, and knocked out his brains.

The person who perpetrated this cowardly deed went a short distance, and committed self-destruction by cutting his throat, which was so dreadfully mangled by the wound that he died almost instantaneously. The other murderer, who used the gun to affect his dastardly purpose, was apprehended. We have no reason to suppose there was any cause other than a drunken riot to account for the whole affair; indeed, so reckless are our bush people in their cups that it is surprising more murders do not occur.

Others on the spree took advantage of their visit to town to get married and not for the most honourable purposes.[4]

Who is there with any lengthened experience of the interior of the country that has not seen the ill effects of men coming to town and marrying the first young woman who will, at a moment's notice, go with them to church? Many men, reckless of consequences to themselves or others, get married without any intention of living with their wives, or supporting them after the few days or weeks during which they are bent on amusing themselves?

Wedding Party in front of a Bush Hotel

When their "spree" is over they are off up the country again, leaving their deluded victims, most likely not the first they have so served, to a life of misery and shame. This is often the commencement of their career with many of the unfortunate young women who crowd our streets. Then in nearly all the cases brought to trial before the criminal courts, it appears that the female witnesses are married women, but not living with their husbands.

Some characters would go to extraordinary lengths to prolong their spree.[5]

Charles King, an old offender, was charged with drunkenness. This was the same old joker who, some time since, pretended to have been bitten by a black snake and had his thumb amputated, which story, it will be remembered, he told for the purpose of raising means longer to continue "a spree" he was then indulging in.

For those men working in the bush, often alone for long periods, the prospect of a spree was a sustaining thought.  But often the cycle of work and sprees would become their way of life.[6]

The bushman, shepherd, or stockman, has, in numberless instances, to lead a life which renders him almost reckless of consequences to himself, and too frequently does he console himself in his solitude with the thought that he will soon reach the end of his term of service, and then be free to enjoy a few days' "spree" at the nearest public-house, in squandering the proceeds of his labour.

In the majority of such cases, we can well believe that the men would be glad to have a chance of acting otherwise. The better nature which will occasionally exercise its influence in the worst specimens of humanity, recoils with horror from the wantonness in which they are apt to indulge, and, if the chance did but offer for saving either for their own benefit or that of others - some of their hard earnings, they would not need much persuasion to avail themselves of the opportunity.

As a consequence of the sprees, the bushman did not succeed in saving much money.[7]

Bush Hotel

Persons belonging to the working class in the bush are much better off than those who reside in the towns. They receive wages ranging between the extremes of £30 and £100 per annum, with board and lodging, and their necessary expenses need not exceed ten pounds a year. Taking the most extravagant estimate of expenditure, there is no person employed in the bush who could not lay by at least half of his income. But what is the fact?

The servants employed by the squatters, when their period of service is expired, whether three, or six, or twelve months, find themselves in possession of a considerable sum of money, and know of no other way to spend it, except in the public house. The bush publican keeps them in a state of intoxication for three or four days; makes a pretence of charging them nothing for board and lodging whilst they are "knocking down the cheque;" and if he is a liberal man gives them a bottle of rum when they are about to depart, after he has swindled them out of half their money.

The victim then returns to his comfortless life and scanty fare as a shepherd or a bushman, with no other hope to relieve the dull monotony of his existence than the prospect of having, in the course of a few months more, another miserable "spree."

The ultimate spree ended in an all-in brawl as happened in Queen Street, Brisbane in 1863.[8]

STREET DISTURBANCE. - Queen-street was, yesterday afternoon, the scene of one of the most discreditable disturbances that has been witnessed in the city for many a day. About three o'clock a well-known public-house loafer named Roche interfered with a party of seamen who were evidently bent on a "spree" together, and being in a quarrelsome mood he was in consequence very roughly handled. The unfortunate fellow was kicked and cuffed by ten or a dozen able bodied men, any one of whom was a match for him, still he made a show to fight against tho lot.

Brisbane Bridge Hotel

At this stage the police came up and interfered to quell the row; but their interference was resisted. Constable Gallagher was seized by one brawny fellow and held round the body and arms while three or four others punched away at his head and with fiendish malignity tore out his beard and the hair of his head by the roots. Sergeant Gorman soon measured his length on the ground, and was brutally kicked while down.

 A crowd speedily collected, and Mr. Patrick Mayne[9] and a Mr. Thomas came to the aid of the police, and succeeded in at least beating off their assailants. The prime mover in the quarrel, Roche, was taken into custody, and eventually locked up. By the time assistance arrived from the Central Police Station the field was nearly clear of the rioters. However, Sergeant Coffey marked down one man, and, giving chase, managed, after a smart spurt, to secure him in Adelaide-street. 

Queen Street, Brisbane

Contemporary Image of the Ship Inn

Sergeant Lang, later in the evening, apprehended another of the rioters at the Ship Inn, where he had been secreted under a bed. An incipient attempt at rescue was stopped by the appearance of a reinforcement of constables to back up the sergeant. Nothing has been heard of the others at a late hour last night. The two prisoners last named are known to have belonged to the notorious crew of the "Jessie Munn"[10]. 

 © K. C. Sbeghen, 2011.

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[1] Colonial folk song.

[2] The Moreton Bay Courier 7.10.1854

[3] The Moreton Bay Courier 26.5.1849

[4] The Moreton Bay Courier 7.5.1859

[5] The Moreton Bay Courier 12.4.1860

[6] The Courier 21.7.1862

[7] The Courier 23.9.1862

[8] The Courier 14.1.1863

[9]  The infamous murderer - see The Mayne Inheritance. 
[10] Government Emigrant Ship.

Colonial Brisbane’s Mean Streets

Albert Street is now at the heart of the Central Business District, lined with cafes and book shops.  In the middle of the 19^th Century it was home to a different trade as the main red light enclave, frequented by prostitutes and street toughs, and largely tolerated by the police force.  Now and then the local press would receive correspondence from an outraged citizen.[1]

BRISBANE LETTER.

A movement is being set on foot to cleanse the city from the moral cancers which are eating away the very foundations of decency and respectability. The efforts of these good people will be utterly futile - or almost so - if they have not the strong arm of the law to aid them. Vested interests in some of the worst streets are so influential that even law can he made subversive to their powers.

Albert Street

The owners of property in - say Albert-street - are wealthy men; they derive large rents from brothel-keepers and others of ill-fame and it is a notorious fact that the tenants of these places are allowed to carry on their disgusting occupations right under the noses of the authorities, whereas in any other city in the colonies they would at least be sent to a suburb or a back street.

Another correspondent, signing himself “Ratepayer”, found the street scenes confronting for decent citizens and their families.[2]

A SCANDALOUS STATE OF THINGS.

Sir,-Let us invite the mayor and aldermen to the East Ward, and for the fair fame of the city there should be no delay. Let no personal motives stop them in rooting out this nursery of crime in Albert and Charlotte streets; consult with the Commissioner of Police; indict all the brothels, and scatter the whole mob. Look into these dens, and you may see fat, strong, defiant creatures.

The females are of the lowest, often in a semi-nude state, get drunk, and fight, using the most horrid language, and this, mind you, when people are passing to and from the Gardens.

Dining Rooms on Albert Street

The males are those rascals who hang about Queen-street, from Albert-street to the Royal Hotel, watching people in and out of the banks. These vagabonds say they follow a trade, and have a shop - so they have, but it is a mere sham as regards honest trading.

The worst feature in the case is that there are a lot of children about   these creatures. Only the other night two little girls not higher than my watch-chain tried to stop me. What may we expect as they grow, and what is the temptation to the youth of all classes?

An ugly confrontation took place a year before at the corner of Edward and Charlotte streets, which soon developed into a full scale riot.[3]

BRISBANE LETTER.

Caricature of a Larrikin

Brisbane, like some of the older cities of the south, is becoming notorious for larrikinism. It has its dens of infamy, and unless prompt and severe measures are taken, it will not be safe for respectable persons to walk its streets after dark.

 A most disgraceful affray took place on Thursday evening, at the comer of Edward and Charlotte streets, which makes one feel ashamed of our boasted civilisation. A constable had apprehended a fellow for creating a disturbance, and whilst leading him off to the lockup was set upon by a number of rowdies determined upon setting all law at defiance, and resolved at all costs upon rescuing the offender.

A large number of larrikins had assembled at the place above mentioned, it would seem by arrangement, and a row occurred such as has been seldom witnessed here. At first it seemed as if the rowdies were to have it all their own way, for the two or three policemen present were powerless, and received, some exceedingly rough treatment, one of them particularly, who laboured against fearful odds most pluckily, being treated in an unmerciful manner.

Queen Street from the corner of Edward Street looking south 1883

The telephone, however, was brought into requisition, and speedily a strong force of police arrived from the station, and after some desperate fighting succeeded in locking up about ten or a dozen of the ring leaders of the mob.

The locality where the affray took place is the lowest in the city, and is notorious for its brothels and its disreputable characters. The affair has of course given rise to complaints about the inadequacy of our police protection, and if reports be true that this consists of a solitary policeman for our principal streets it is high time that the matter was stirred up and pressure brought to bear upon the authorities.

Brothels were not the safest of places to frequent.  They were often the scene of robberies, the ladies taking advantage of drunken clients.  This often ended in violence.[4]

Police Courts on Elizabeth Street (note the telephone wires - one per subscriber)

CENTRAL POLICE COURT.

Thomas Herd alias Simmons was charged with assaulting and wounding John Sheen in a brothel. Both men, however, appeared in the dock - one of the nymphs having given Sheen in charge for assault and battery.

Sheen deposed: Yesterday morning about 1 o'clock, a young woman came up to me in George street and asked me to go home with her; I went; defendant’s wife opened the door and we entered; besides Mrs. Herd, who lives in the adjoining house, and the girl with me, I saw a man and woman who were in bed; Mrs. Herd asked me for some money, but I declined, saying that I was going home.

I made towards the door but the girl who accompanied me pulled me back, she said, "Give the missus the money and it will be all right," I replied, "No I am going home," with that Mrs. Herd went out, I was following, when defendant entered at the front door, came straight up to me, and without speaking, stabbed me in the eye with a bread knife.

Defendant then made off, and I went towards the door to look after him, when a girl who was in the house got up and shoved me back into the room ; she then ran to the fireplace picked up either an iron bar or a stick, and came towards me, when I knocked her down, one of the two other women, I cannot tell which, got me by the scarf, but I made my escape, found a policeman in Queen-street, and gave defendant into custody.

Corner of Charlotte and Edward Streets

But then Sheen was also arrested - for assaulting the girl.

Sheen was given into custody by Mary Lee, whom found in the street looking for a policeman, her eyes were nearly closed, and her face was swollen and bloody, she was in her nightdress.

Mrs. Herd deposed: About one o'clock I heard Polly, who was in the next house cry "murder." I jumped up, and, with nothing but my dress on, ran into the next house, where the screaming came from. 




Polly was on the floor, and the man (Sheen) was  kicking her with the heel of his boot on the face and head, I pulled her from under him, and put her into Mrs. Herd's bed, in the next house;    

Mary Lee, who was next called, appeared with her head and face partially bound up; an ugly gash, however, was visible near one of her eyes, she said her face was nothing to her body, Sheen had been the assailant.

At this stage of the proceedings, Mr Inspector Lewis, who had come into Court only a short time before, said that, from inquiries he had made, he was satisfied that Herd did not strike the blow with the knife; he would, therefore, withdraw the charge, he thought there had been blame on both sides -Both cases were then dismissed.

Boarding House, Albert Street

Few brothel keepers were prosecuted but now and then, one was made an example of by the Courts.[5]

KEEPING A BROTHEL.

Robert Fitt, found guilty of this offence on the previous day, was brought up for sentence.

His Honour, in passing sentence, said the prisoner had been convicted upon the very clearest testimony of the offence with which he was charged.

He (the prisoner) had a business, and could have earned an honest livelihood; but he preferred to keep and harbor women leading the most abandoned life women could live. He had descended to the lowest and filthiest occupation a man could stoop to.

 Out of the miserable and abominable earnings of these wretched women he wrung large sums of money. In his hands they were white slaves, and he was their master.

The punishment which he should inflict should be a severe one, not so much to make the prisoner suffer - far from it. The object of the law was to repress such crimes as these, and suppress such houses as the prisoner had kept open.

The prisoner was then sentenced to twelve months' imprisonment, with hard labour.

© K. C. Sbeghen, 2011.

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[1] Morning Bulletin, Rockhampton 18.4.1882

[2] The Brisbane Courier 22.4.1882

[3] The Capricornian 29.1.1881

[4] The Brisbane Courier 22.9.1871

[5] The Brisbane Courier 7.3.1877