Acknowledgements
A sincere thanks from both of us to all those people who helped us with advice, time and information, particularly all those who are included in the list of participants. We hope that you will enjoy this small contribution to the Koorie history of the area. Thanks also to Harvey Johnston of NPWS (NSW) for his patience, to the staff of Pioneer Park, Griffith, for allowing us to include a number of photographs in this report, to AIATSIS and Balranald Local Aboriginal Land Council for additional photographs, and to our families for their help and support.
Copyright in this report is vested with National Parks and Wildlife Service (NSW). All participants, however, retain rights to their own intellectual property.
WARNING: Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander viewers are warned that this booklet contains images of deceased persons.
Reprinted July 2023 | Graphic Design work by The Articulate Pear Pty Ltd
Robert (Bob) Harris, Griffith 32-34
Gordon Kirby, Dareton
Christine Johnson, Robinvale 39-43 Clancy Charles, Griffith
Grace Gowans, Darlington Point 49-52
Jean Cliteur, Darlington Point 53-55
Pam Edwards, Darlington Point 56-58
Heather Edwards, Darlington Point 59-60
Florence Carroll, Darlington Point 61-63
Beryl Smith, Darlington Point 64-65
Shannon Smith, Darlington Point 66
Alice Williams, Griffith 67-72
Jenny Goolagong, Griffith 73
Stanley White, Darlington Point 74
Dot Ingram, Leeton 75-77
Dennis Ingram, Leeton 78-81
Ossie Ingram, Narrandera 82-84
Doreen Christian, Griffith 85
Theresa Edwards, Balranald 86
Tommy Lyons, Narrandera 87-88
Neville Lyons, Narrandera 89-90
Carrol Higgins, Narrandera 91
Jim Ingram (Snr), Leeton 92-95
Pat Undy, Darlington Point 96-98
Leanne Undy, Darlington Point 101
Mary Briggs, Shepparton 102-103
Len (Bushy) Kirby 104
Archie Bamblett, Sydney 105
Penny Taylor, Adelaide 106-109
Section Three 111
Appendix 1. A sample page of an index to the Mission Managers’ Diary.
Appendix 2. A sample interviewee release form.
Appendix 3. Some relevant extracts from the writings of Ernest Gribble, Gribble’s son who grew up at Warangesda.
Appendix 4. Another interview with Mrs Isobel Edwards.
Section Three Appendices
Appendix One
NAME DATE PAGE ISSUE - EVENT
SAXBY, RUTH Tue 7-8-1884 84 About the same. Sat 11-8-1884 84 Passed a bad night. Tue 14-8-1884 84 Died about 12 o’clock.
Wed 15-8-1884 84 Body buried at dusk.
WALTERS, JACOB Tue 12-6-1884 80 Left mission.
Wed 29-6-1894 99 Returned from Narrandera. Sat 16-11-1895 108 To act as vigilante Committee member. Fri 12-6-1896 119 Dug post holes that were marked out. Sat 5-9-1896 123 Left for Narrandera to see Dr. Mon 7-9-1896 124 Returned from Narrandera this morning.
CLAYTON, R Tue 12-6-1894 80 Took his place as butcher & milkman. Wed 20-6-1894 80 R CLAYTON milkman & butcher. Mon 25-6-1894 80 Refused to get the sheep in & kill, there being no meat in the butchers shop. Mon 25-6-1894 80 Also refused to get the calves in. This man Clayton has been a source of annoyance ever the present manager has been here. He has been very leniantly dealt with. Punishments having been put aside on his promising to conduct himself properly, but he seems to have an idea that because he is a fullblood he cannot be removed off the station.
Tue 10-7-1894 Ploughing in the afternoon. Wed 25-7-1894 Clayton, Fullman & Hamilton went to help with wagonette but stopped at the punt helping people to get sheep across, otherwise wagon may have been got as far as point.
This is a sample page of information from the Mission Managers’ Diary indexed by Pat Undy and typed by Michael Undy. The original diary is in the National Library in Canberra. Diane Barwick’s typed copy is in AIATSIS Library.
Appendix Two
INTERVIEWEE RELEASE FORM
I, (full name) have agreed to make this tape recording with (name of interviewer).
Date of recording:
Place of recording:
I am making this tape as part of the Warangesda Oral History Project (NPWS, NSW) because I want people to learn about the history and culture of our area. I understand that the information I give will be made available to Aboriginal people in the area and to NPWS(NSW).
I agree that (name of interviewer) can use all or part of the material in this tape to write up material on local history. I agree that she can publish or otherwise distribute the material and that the results will form part of the Warangesda Oral History Project.
I do/do not want to be able to check the material before it is published or circulated.
I agree/do not agree to a copy of this tape being lodged in the archives of the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies in Canberra for the purposes of private study and research.
I agree/do not agree that the Institute can make copies of this tape to send to other community centres so that other Aboriginal people can listen to it.
I agree/do not agree that the material can be used by other people who are publishing about Aboriginal history and culture.
I do/do not want to be contacted before anyone other than the interviewer or NPWS (NSW) publishes any of this material.
I do/do not want my name acknowledged in any publication of this material.
I understand that I (or my people) still own the information on this tape but that I am giving nonexclusive copyright in the recording itself to , to NPWS (NSW), and to the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies.
Signature of interviewee:
Address:
Phone number:
Appendix Three
ERNEST (JUDJA) GRIBBLE
This report is based on oral history as the historian at NPWS (NSW) Sydney is putting together the documentary history of Warangesda. We decided, though, to include three written passages by Ernest Gribble. Ernest was one of John Gribble’s sons. He would have been twelve years old when the family moved to Warangesda and sixteen when they left. He regularly revisited Warangesda for years afterwards and the happy childhood he spent there left strong impressions in his mind which he wrote about later on.
The first passage describes the family’s arrival in Warangesda and are a young boy’s memories of those days. His memories are similar to some of the others we recorded. This passage was given to us by Mrs Lorna Harris, one of John Gribble’s granddaughters who lives in Colleambally today. She found it in some of his writings.
PASSAGE
ONE: CHILDHOOD DAYS IN WARANGESDA
In due course, my Father having resigned his charge at Jerilderie, hired a horse team for the household effects and with Mother and the three younger children in the buggy, Arthur riding on top of the wagon, myself on a small pony, helping an Aboriginal lad to drive a small flock of Angora goats, we set out. The whole town turned out to see us go. It was said that Parson Gribble had developed “blacks on the brain”. We also had a cow and calf given to Father by Mr. Alexander Wilson of Coree Station, but these apparently were not keen on missionary work among the Aborigines, and getting away from us, they went back.
After several days we reached a deserted homestead known as ‘Frimlay’ on a selection owned by a Mr. Firth, the founder of the firm, Peter and Co. of Sydney. Mr Firth had lent the house, a rather rough log cabin to Father for the family until such time as buildings were erected on the mission site. Labour was badly needed at the mission and my brother Arthur and I were taken to the camp to do our share. We were set to knocking the bark of the logs.
In looking back on those days, I realise the wonderful bravery of my Father in undertaking such a task, with a large family of five, three boys and two girls, and with only a little over five pounds cash left after paying for the hire of the wagon and team, and with no organisation behind him. He was a perfect glutton for work, and others had to follow. At any rate he made us youngsters follow the axemen who felled the trees for building. Our job was to bark the timber with tomahawks before the sap dried. The erection of the building to serve as a home for Mother.
Very often my brother and myself would accompany Father on his numerous long journeys among the scattered sheep stations and selector’s homesteads. Our job was to open the gates whose number was legion. Father drove a pair of greys, named ‘Spot’ and ‘Charlie’. Those buggy journeys were very trying in the heat of the summer over the wide plains. I dreamt of gates and water.
With my sister Amy and brother Arthur, I attended school with the Aboriginal children. All children worked in the mornings, and attended school in the afternoons. One day I had gone off just about noon to see to my fishing lines that I had set overnight in the river, I got back late to school. Father saw me coming a long way off and as I was supposed to set an example, he came to meet me with a cane in his hand. I was scared stiff, but before he reached me, I had obtained his blessing, for I had a fine Murray Cod slung over my shoulder. It was just as much as I could do to carry it. Father was delighted at my catch and like everyone who has tasted that fine fish, he was very fond of Murray Cod; and so was I. He never even said “Don’t do it again”.
House building at Warangesda involved a great deal of hard work. Huge upright logs six feet apart, with long thin saplings in between nailed in pairs on the inner side to form slots. Into these were dropped the pine logs adzed at each end, one upon the other from the ground upwards to form the walls. The roofing was of bark stripped from the trees by the old black men, named Jacky, Melon and Tommy Bundure. These men were noted experts at bark stripping. That stripped bark was flattened by placing heavy logs on it. When thoroughly dry the sheets of bark were fastened to the purlines by strips of greenhide and wooden pegs. The sheets were kept in place by logs of pine along each tier, these being kept in place by pine sticks connecting each tier, which were called ‘jockies’. The last row of jockies from each side of the roof crossed at the top ridge and were joined in pairs with a wooden peg. These buildings were indeed wonderful, the fireplace being a huge affair and occupying the whole end of the building. A sofa, homemade, ran along on side of the fireplace, and a huge ‘back log’, requiring two men to bring it inside, lasted nearly a week. At this fireplace Mother did her cooking in a huge camp oven.
At this fireside one evening, the name of the new mission was chosen, ‘Warang’ the Waradgeri word for ‘camp’ and ‘esda’ the last part of the scriptural ‘Bethesda’. Thus ‘Warangesda’ meaning ‘camp of mercy’, a most appropriate name for an Aboriginal mission. Those were indeed hard days for our parents, days of hardship, discomfort and privation. Mother was wonderful.
At first we were so poor, that we had no lighting other than the resinous pine bark. Father used to read the evening chapter and do all his reading at night with the aid of the pine bark.
As time went by, sheep were obtained and ‘slush lights’ were used instead of pine bark for lighting. These were made in empty jam tins, the tin being filled within a couple of inches of the top with sand. In the centre was placed a soft wood peg wrapped around with a rag well greased with mutton fat. Mother abhorred these ‘slush tins’, they were so greasy, but they were better than pine bark. In the course of time we obtained a candle mould and made candles and also soap.
Kangaroo soup was the standing dish for Sunday’s dinner.
House construction of this period, Pioneer Park, Griffith.
Ernest Gribble followed his father’s footsteps and became a missionary, working with Aboriginal people all his life. He worked for many years at Yarrabah, in Queensland and also in Forrest River in the Kimberley Region of Western Australia. Just as his father, many years before, had forced a Royal Commission into the treatment of Aboriginal people in WA, Gribble Junior forced the Government to hold a Royal Commission into the massacre of Aboriginal people near Forrest River.
He wrote two books about Aboriginal people in 1932 and 1933 describing Aboriginal culture and trying change the racist attitudes of the day. We’ve extracted the descriptions that come from his Warangesda days. (In the days when he was writing, the word ‘native’ was not an offensive term.)
PASSAGE TWO: MURRUMBIDGEE MEMORIES
The best of the native tribes were found in the great river areas of New South Wales, Victoria, and part of South Australia. The Aborigines on the larger rivers in New South Wales and Victoria made beautifully finished weapons, and went in for decorative carving, beautifully executed. In northern Australia the carving is much cruder, and is not gone in for extensively, as was the case among the tribes in the south of the continent. In New South Wales and in Victoria, two kinds of shields were made, one broad, for protection against spears, made out of very thick bark sun-dried and very hard, the other made out of wood, very narrow, used in close fighting with clubs or “nulla-nullas”. A remarkable boomerang was made by the natives on the Murrumbidgee River. It had a broadened out tip, fashioned somewhat like an axe, with a keen edge. This was a terrible weapon. Their boomerang was larger than elsewhere, and was used in battle as well as in the chase, whereas in the north it was smaller and mostly used for amusement.
Among these tribes vessels for carrying water were made from bark, stripped from the round lumps on gum trees. Throughout Australia, small bags were made for gathering honey. These bags were made from very thin bark, sewn up at the sides with either bark twine, or the fine sinews of the tails of kangaroo.
Owing to the coldness of the winter, these natives made beautiful rugs of opossum, wallaby, and kangaroo skins. These skins were beautifully and strongly made and were well sewn together with the fine sinew taken from the tail of the kangaroo, the needle used being of bone. Each skin was decorated with markings representing kangaroos, emus, turtles and other ornamental designs. (In Margaret Tucker’s book, she writes: ‘On hunting trips, I remember being carried on my old aunt’s back in a possum rug, warm and snug, the gentle rhythm rocking me to sleep.’ She too remembered people using kangaroo skins, much later than Ernest Gribble as she was born in 1904. She wrote: ‘Kangaroo skins made warm floor coverings. Wombat and wallaby skins were used as well. I remember seeing the skins dried out and then treated with something, no doubt an ancient process handed down from generation to generation. This would make them soft and pliable. The women too would put them around their shoulders to keep out the cold.’)
Bags and baskets of twisted grass were made in New South Wales, Victoria, and other parts in the south. Bark was taken from trees to make “gunyahs” or canoes, and they were very clever hunters. On the larger rivers in the south, canoes were made from the bark of gum-trees, stripped off in one piece. As a boy on the Murrumbidgee River, I frequently helped in the making of these canoes, and spent many a day with the natives in their large bark canoes or went hunting with them. (Again, in Margaret Tucker’s book, she writes about holidays in the Barmah forest and describes people making bark canoes.)
On the great plains of Riverina the natives displayed great ingenuity in capturing game. These natives were without doubt the best huntsmen in the continent ... Owing to the large open spaces in the
Riverina plains a great deal of strategy had to be used in securing game but the natives were adept in making all sorts of snares. Kangaroos, emus, and the wild turkey had to be carefully stalked perhaps for hours. The hunter would use a screen of green bushes, and would succeed, after much patience, in getting close enough to launch his weapon ... The tribes in the Riverina made large nets for catching ducks. A net would be stretched across a sheet of water, fairly high above the water. The flying birds would at once pass down the stream, when the native in hiding would throw his boomerang among them as they passed. The ducks taking this to be a hawk, at once swoop down into the net. Another method was for the native to swim out into the stream with head covered with green bushes, and, getting among the ducks as they swam about, to seize them by the legs and pull them under.
The author in his early youth frequently went out on hunting expeditions with the Aborigines on the Murrumbidgee River. At that time the Riverina was plentiful in game of all kinds. Opossums were numerous and easy to get. A native would examine a gum-tree for recent scratches on the bark made by ascending possums; then with his tomahawk, he would ascend, cutting small steps in the bark just sufficient to put his toes into. Reaching the hollow he would examine the entrance for traces of the animal. These would consist of fur adhering to the edges of the hollow. He would then probe the hollow with a long switch. If he could reach the bottom of the hollow he would be able to feel if the animal was “at home”. Then tapping the outside of the tree to find the end of the hollow by the sound, he would soon cut through, and inserting his hand draw out by the legs and tail the little animal, and killing it by banging its head against the tree, drop it to the ground. I have seen as many as twenty or thirty caught in this way during a morning’s hunt. In those days, kangaroos and emus as well as turkeys were very numerous on the plains. If the skins were not needed, the animals would be thrown on the fire and the hair singed off. They would then be disembowelled and cooked. If on the other hand the skins were needed for any purpose, they were carefully removed, pegged out on squares of bark, and then dried in the sun. The pegs used for pegging out skins were carefully made, and the points hardened in the fire. These pegs were made from a certain shrub which grew in the sand-hills.
On the Murrumbidgee River the natives in the spring of the year gathered wild lettuce and carrots, and in the sand-hills a small sweet yam.
The burial rites of the Aborigines differ throughout the continent. On the Murrumbidgee River the corpse was laid, amid much wailing, in a huge grave, with all that belonged to the deceased during life, weapons rugs, etc. The body faced the east and was sometimes placed in a sitting posture. After the grave had been filled in, a smoke fire was made, and all present passed through the smoke. A bough shed was then erected over the grave, and the whole often enclosed by stakes. The gunyah formerly occupied by the deceased was then burnt. Then, too, any person with the same name as the deceased would have his name changed, and the name of the departed would no longer be mentioned by any of the tribe.
There are still to be found in the older settled districts the rings of earth, bora rings, many yards in circumference, where the rites and ceremonies attending initiation into manhood took place. The rites extended over many weeks and in many parts of New South Wales included the ceremony of knocking out of two front teeth. In some tribes the knocking out of the teeth was a tribal mark, men and women alike having to undergo it. Other tribes have a special tribal mark on the body, in addition to the ceremonial markings.
Among the Aborigines on the Murrumbidgee, the women worked designs upon the legs and arms with fire, by way of decoration. The pith of a certain plant was lighted and placed in small pieces upon the flesh and allowed to burn itself out. This left a spot, and these spots were worked into a design by way of ornamentation.
In some of the oral histories in this report, people have talked of Koorie descendants of Warangesda who spent years fighting for Aboriginal rights, people like William Ferguson, Jimmy and Bert Murray. Peter Read’s book, ‘A Hundred Years War’ gives many other examples. We decided to include a passage by Ernest Gribble which shows how his early years at Warangesda turned him into a fighter too. He wrote this in the 1930’s and it was not until the 1980’s that NSW Koories began to receive a portion of the land tax under land rights legislation. It’s a long, ongoing struggle.
PASSAGE THREE: OUR DEBT TO THE ABORIGINAL
The Aboriginal population today (1932) is estimated at 75,000, a quarter of the population of a century ago....Some say they are a degraded race and the sooner they die out the better. If they are degraded, whose fault is it? They are not a useless people. As a fact they have done so much to help the development of Australia since we came, that we are under a most solemn obligation to assist them. In the first place, the great Australian explorers used them in all their expeditions. Secondly, the pioneers in all parts of the continent have used them in opening up and settling the land. They have been guides, shepherd, shearers, stockmen, servants, grooms, housemaids, nurse-girls, and as lettercarriers when there were no mails. Thirdly, the native was used for many years in the development of the pearling industry which caused the rapid disappearance of thousands. Fourthly, the governments of the various States have made good use of them in connection with the police.
The condition of the black Australian, who has helped the white in the development of the continent, leaves much to be desired. Great Britain always makes provision for the original owners of the land, when granting responsible government to a colony. The Imperial authorities in the early days of Australian colonisation issued an order that 16 per cent of all moneys derived from the sales of Crown land should be spent on behalf of the original owners. When New South Wales was granted selfgovernment in 1856, it was stipulated that a percentage of the income from the sale of Crown lands should be spent on the native. For many years all he got was a blanket on Queen Victoria’s birthday.
The history of the Aborigines since those days has been a sad one, and if it could be written would no doubt form one of the darkest chapters in the annals of British history. In the years from 1912 to 1917 inclusive New South Wales spent on her Aborigines at the rate of 4 pence per head of her white population per annum. Western Australia for the same period spent at the rate of one shilling and six pence per head of the white population on her natives. It is very interesting to note that the value of wool from Australia for the same period totalled over 32 million pounds and the value of wheat over 34 million.
My father carried on his work at first without any support-organization, and his difficulties were great. Sir Henry Parkes, at this time Premier of NSW, recognised his work, and gave five thousand acres of land as a reserve for the natives, and appointed the founder as teacher of a school for natives, with a salary of 50 per annum. This was his first help. In course of time the work was recognised by the Bishop of Goulburn. After years of successful work my father in 1885 was called to Western Australia to undertake work among the natives on the Gascoyne River. Such however was the apathy of the Church, that Warangesda drifted under the control of a secular body (The Aborigines Protection Board) and was finally closed in 1927 and the land sold as a farm. The natives were turned adrift.
On recording some of his recollections of his boyhood at Warangesda, Ernest (Rev. E.R. Gribble) writes, “On another occasion, a party of very ‘full’ bushmen, on their way home from the bush pub, lower down the river, strayed off the main road and found themselves in the small hours of the morning, in the middle of the settlement, wondering where they had got to. The barking of the dogs aroused all hands, and Father ordered the nocturnal visitors to leave. They were rather inclined to make things ‘hum’, but when they saw a mob of half clad and naked aborigines, they suddenly decided to leave. As they did so, one called out ‘Oh, I know who that bloke is, that’s old “Brigham Young”’, referring to John Gribble.
Recalling the early Jerilderie days, Ernest writes, “How well do I still remember those Jerilderie days, and I still love to recall the many interesting incidents of our life on the Riverina Plains. I developed a love for the Australian bush and that has never faded and never will.
I well remember the huge stations including the fine homesteads of Bundure where the McLartys reigned Coree under Alexander Wilson; Moonbria under H.B. Patterson, under whom I worked many years later, beyond the Paroo in Queensland; Hartwood, Argoon, Kulki, Goolgumbla, Cockedgegong, Nownie under Simpsons and others. I remember gazing at a picture of a famous race horse named ‘Dick Swiveller’ which hung on the dining room wall, at Yamma Station. At Yanko Station I first saw sheep hand washed and hand shorn. That station if I remember rightly under the care of a Mr. McKenjie. Those were the days of huge runs and fine homesteads.
The problem of the Australian Aboriginal (1932) by Rev ERB Gribble (Judja)
Yarrabah, Mitchell River, Forrest River, Protector of Abs Qld 16 yrs, Protector of Abs WA 16 years.
This picture of Warangesda Mission comes from the book by the Reverend JB Gribble, ‘Black But Comely’, published in 1884. It is an artist’s impression of the Mission and is probably not to scale.
He argued forcefully for the Federal Government to take responsibility for Aboriginal people (which finally happened in 1967), wanted equality under the law and a special Aboriginal police and protectors in remote areas to determine their own justice.
We are apt to look on the half-caste as being above the full-blood in intelligence, because he has our blood within him. As a matter of fact, the half-caste is far more aboriginal than European, for the aboriginal mother has had the influencing of the child among her own people. The natives are very fond of their children and make no exception as regards the half-castes.
The scientist says segregate the natives and let them live their own lives in their own way; but our civilization will not leave them alone, we are in the country for all time and we are bound to affect them for good or for evil. It is our duty to see that the best in our civilization reaches them, and not the worst as hitherto. Government stations for the natives have been, and are still, in existence, but all they have succeeded in doing has been to feed, house, clothe and educate, and send them out as cheap servants. As a race the natives have gained nothing from such efforts, and their rapid decline in numbers has not been stemmed.
Australia cost Great Britain nothing to get, and we have done less than any other British colony for the original owners.
Appendix Four
INTERVIEW WITH MRS ISOBEL EDWARDS, 23RD OCTOBER 1985
INTERVIEWER: Can you tell us something about Warangesda Mission where you were born?
MRS EDWARDS: I was born there 76 years ago on 26th August and I grew up there until I was 12 or 13. Then the mission was breaking up, people were going away and leaving it because of nasty managers that were there. That’s what started its closure. Nasty managers used to be there, and they treated everyone as kids, they tried to boss them around. People used to come down and try to take the children - it was as bad as America and the slaves! It was horrifying
INTERVIEWER: Did they try to take you away from your mother?
MRS EDWARDS: They did. They used to come and take the children from the dormitory, the matron used to let them, and get the children ready. When the dormitory didn’t operate anymore, Mr Donaldson, from the Aboriginal Protection Board, and two other chaps would come down from Sydney every three months to see how the missions was going and what they were doing, and they decided they would take a few more children away - somebody’s kids!
INTERVIEWER: Not just orphans?
MRS EDWARDS: No, they started taking any kids that were big enough. I remember the women crying because their kids were going away. Donaldson came to our home one day, while dad was at work. The men used to all work as there was work for all of them in that place, and·he used to visit the houses to see that they were all kept properly and didn’t knock them down or anything like that (they do now too) and he said “Have the children ready in the morning, Mrs Murray, by nine o’clock, I’m taking them away”. She said “You’re what?” He said “I’m taking your three oldest girls away in the morning ... Hilda, Isobel and Maryanne”. Mum said “Why?” and he said “The dark people don’t think as much of their children as white people!” Mum said” Well we do and you’re not taking my kids”. Well he told her to have them ready at nine o’clock and he told other women as well - Mrs Glass and Mrs Kirby.
Then the men came home in the evening and mum was telling dad and I suppose the others told their husbands and dad said “I’ll go over and see what Charlie and Jack are doing”. So he went over to their places and they said “They’re not taking our kids”. They said “Well how are we going to stop them?” Dad said “Well, we won’t go to work in the morning, we’ll go up and get our orders and pretend we’re going to where they sent us and come around the back of the houses and stay home until old Donaldson comes”. Well the next day Donaldson came to our home and he asked mum if she had the children ready, and she said “No, and you’re not taking them”.
Then dad stepped out from the bedroom door with a double-barrelled shotgun he had and he said “You lay your hands on my kids Donaldson and you’ll get this”. Donaldson said “Put the gun away
Murray, put the gun away”. And dad said “You touch those kids and your brains will splatter that roof!” I know it’s not a nice thing to say, but he had to frighten him somehow. Anyway, when dad stepped towards him old Donaldson went for his life. He went to Kirby’s and Glass’s and he said the same thing. Anyway, he went away and didn’t bother them anymore - the ones that stuck up for their children.
INTERVIEWER: What was he intending to do with the children?
MRS EDWARDS: Send them to this big home at Cootamundra. A lot of kids went there from the old mission. They used to send them there until they were about 13 or 14 and then they used to send them out to work for 2/6 pence a week. I knew one girl who came back from there when she was a woman and she said it was slavery, they made them do all the dirty jobs about the house, and in the home. They had fireplaces in all the rooms and the kids had to clean all the fireplaces out and wash them - white- wash them. She said that all the dirty work that had to be done ~ the kids did it. I think it was terrible taking the kids away and making them do that.
INTERVIEWER: Mrs Edwards could you tell us how your parents came to be at the mission?
MRS EDWARDS: My mother had a Scottish father and her mother was also white. They never talked much about their families - there wasn’t the interest in it like there is today. Mum was born in Australia. Dad was an Aboriginal and I think he was born at the mission too. They met at the mission. Mum’s mother was alive then and she came there too. Mum came with her mother, two brothers and her father. He used to do a lot of droving, grandfather Stark, and of course they only had a horse and cart or horse and dray then and he used to be away for months at a time, so his family stayed at the mission. Such a lot of them stayed at the mission. They tell me there were two or three hundred there when it was at its biggest. I can remember about 17 houses and then apparently they used to have quarters for single men, but that was before I can remember. It was really a good place.
INTERVIEWER: Can you tell us about some of the shops?
MRS EDWARDS: Well, they were mostly just on the end of verandahs - the cool drink shops, that is. There was the little butcher shop, and then a store beside it, but they pulled it down - the manager must have been lazy and pulled the manager’s house down, and he moved into the old dormitory, and he shifted the store into one of the big, long rooms. He reckoned the old store was too old and broken down or something. So that’s what happened to the storeroom. That was when I was about 10.
There was a school, and a church - bigger than the Presbyterian Church in Darlington Point now. It was Church of England at the mission though. It had a belfry out the front. I think the fellow who had it built was trying to make the place look very English. Different managers did different things. One of them started a big vegetable garden down near the church. The vegetables were for everybody on the mission - they didn’t sell them, they used to give them to us. Of course, another manager came along and pulled it out as it was too much extra work for him to see to. I think the managers broke the mission up by being nasty and mean.
INTERVIEWER: Did you experience any of the nasty managers?
MRS EDWARDS: Yes. Well, people said such and such was nasty, but as a child I didn’t have much to do with them. I know that they didn’t like the last bloke that was there, a fellow by the name of Trottman. His brother was there first, Arthur Trottman I think, and they thought he was terribly nice. Then when he left his brother got the position and was no good. He was a friend of old Donaldson, they were good mates.
A few years ago, 5 or 6, they had a “Back to Warangesda” and they had a bit of a turnout at the hall in the Club. There was a woman there and she said her name was Donaldson. They were talking about old Donaldson, and she said “Oh yes I knew him” and I said “All I knew about him was that he was never any good” and she said “That’s right - I married his son. My husband said that he was too busy taking other people’s children away to take any notice of his own!” She was a very nice person. She lives in Canberra now. I remember one of our teachers thought he was wonderful too. He used to go away for a long time and one day when we were in school he came. The manager used to go down to meet him - the -coach used to come from Wilbriggie and pick him up and bring him back. This teacher said “Oh, look children there’s Mr Donaldson, he can hardly get around, the poor old man”. We used to go home and tell everyone what the teacher had said, and you can imagine what some of them thought about the “poor old man!”
INTERVIEWER: Was the mission run as a property?
MRS EDWARDS: Yes. They used to put in crops and harvest them and cart the wheat to Wilbriggie. Wilbriggie was a big siding then.
INTERVIEWER: Was the bridge in then?
MRS EDWARDS: Yes. My sister was six months old when the bridge was put in, my mother said she was five years older than me. The men used to do all the work.·I remember the summer days were terrible then - worse than they are now. They used to get up at four o’clock in the morning and harness the horses. They had sheep and cattle as well as the wheat. They didn’t shear at Warangesda though, they used to take the sheep out to Beaumont’s shearing shed as there was no shearing shed at the mission. They did all their own dipping when dipping came in and everything else they did at Warangesda.
When we left the mission, we went to live at Beaumonts on the Hay road it is, not far from the crossroads. They had everything, at the mission sheep, cattle and horses. They killed their own sheep at the butcher’s shop. You didn’t have to pay for meat, it was given to you.
INTERVIEWER: You mentioned that the matron was buried at the graveyard at the mission, did she stay there until her death?
MRS EDWARDS: Yes, I think so, but then again they used to call the manager’s wife “the matron” too in the later years. But this Matron Hearst was actually the matron at the dormitory. Maryanne Hearst was her name and she came from Scotland. I forget which part but it used to be on the headstone. As kids we used to go up with our mothers on Sunday evening to the cemetery. That was a great thing - walking up and putting flowers on the graves. Every Sunday they did that.
INTERVIEWER: Was religion a big part of life at the mission?
MRS EDWARDS: Yes, a lot of them were really religious people. My mother was. She never swore or anything, she was really religious. Instead of singing you a song, she sang you a hymn.
INTERVIEWER: Was there much inter-marriage other than your parents?
MRS EDWARDS: Oh, there was quite a few there. There’s another family, the Bambletts (Colin’s one of their descendants). Old Gran Bamblett as we used to call the old lady, was Irish and she was married to a dark chap. Today some of the Bambletts are dark and some are fair. There was a lot of inter-marriage really, I can’t think of all the names. Some with dark husbands and a white wife, and some with a white husband and a dark wife.
INTERVIEWER: Were there ever any dark managers or teachers at the mission?
MRS EDWARDS: No, not here. They said there was a dark teacher down at Cummeragunja and Moonahcullah. They were other missions - one was a big mission too they told me, though I never saw it.
INTERVIEWER: Whereabouts were they?
MRS EDWARDS: I think Cummeragunja was in Victoria, near the border, somewhere near Echuca.
INTERVIEWER: Was there another mission on the northern side of the river at Darlington Point?
MRS EDWARDS: Yes. Well it wasn’t really a mission in the true sense of word. A mission is where they have a chance to work as well as live. They only had houses over there - tin huts too, they weren’t very nice at all. It had a bag church with a tin roof. A missionary was there, actually she was living in the town, and she got the men to build this church out of bags, and they ran cement and lime or something over the bags to make it waterproof.
INTERVIEWER: Did that have a name?
MRS EDWARDS: No, I don’t think so. Not that I know of anyway. It was that A.I.M.Australian Inland Mission.
INTERVIEWER: I think that was associated with Presbyterian Church then.
MRS EDWARDS: I only remember the Longs running it.
INTERVIEWER: When did you move into Darlington Point?
MRS EDWARDS: Not until after I was married and had a couple of children ready to go to school. We used to always live out at Beaumonts. Then when the kids got old enough for school we moved in - over the other side of the river.
INTERVIEWER: Did you meet your husband at Beaumonts?
MRS EDWARDS: No, he came to the old mission before we left … no, we’d gone back, that’s right. Dad left Beaumonts and then while he was fixing a place up to stay in, at Larkin’s - Eddy Larkin’s they used to call that property up by the road - we stayed at Grandfather’s, he was still at the mission. That’s when I met my husband. He came up there once with some Johnson boys.
INTERVIEWER: So, the mission was still going even after you left?
MRS EDWARDS: Yes, but not much though, there was only about half a dozen places there thenno fences or anything. There was a manager, but he was just staying until they got rid of everything, I think.
INTERVIEWER: Do you know when they sold the property into private hands?
MRS EDWARDS: I think it was about in 1925. The Kings would know. They never sold it to him, he balloted with a lot of others for it, and he won the ballot. He bought more land later. The property used to come nearly right to this house here (in Darlington Point). Then they started -this mission thing going again, with Land Rights and all this, and they tried to get that back off Jeff King.
Anyway, there’s ninety acres or something, that Queen Victoria granted to the Aborigines there. Mr Gribble went over to London to see her. He had an audience with the Queen. He went to see her about land for the Aboriginals and he was taking my grandfather with him. Grandfather said they got to the shipping office where they buy the tickets, and grandfather said to Mr Gribble, “Mr Gribble, how long is it before you see land?” He said “Three months, Jimmy”. “Well”, he said “Don’t buy me a ticket, because I’m not going!”. That was in Sydney. So, grandfather didn’t go to see the Queen. He was Jimmy Murray.
INTERVIEWER: You mentioned before that your father was involved with gaining equality for Aborigines.
MRS EDWARDS: Yes, that’s right. He fought for the men to be allowed to go into the pub - not just because they wanted to go to the pub. They stopped them, you know, they wouldn’t have them in the pub from the time when I could remember until a few years ago. They wouldn’t let the black man go into the pub. I don’t know why - because he was black I suppose. They used to say “Oh, they play up”, but a black man doesn’t play up any more than a white man when he’s drunk. Dad wrote to politicians and everyone trying to get equal rights.
INTERVIEWER: How many brothers and sisters did you have?
MRS EDWARDS: I had three sisters and four brothers. Two brothers and one sister were older than me, then me, and two sisters and two brothers. The oldest brother died when he was three. But the next brother, Jimmy, went to War, he was one of the Rats of Tobruk. He was called after grandfather Murray. He came back, but he was full of shrapnel. He hurt himself later when he was lifting something and the shrapnel moved, and he never got over it. He married a white woman, too. You see they’re mixed up everywhere. It’s nothing at the Point for a dark person to marry a white person.
INTERVIEWER: How many children do you have, Mrs Edwards?
MRS EDWARDS: I had ten. I lost three when they grew up. One daughter was 36 when she died, and one of her children was only two. She had asthma and a bad heart. She was Betty Jeffery.
INTERVIEWER: Did you have your children at home, or in hospital?
MRS EDWARDS: At home. I had one in hospital, the youngest, at Griffith Hospital. There were no motor cars like there are now. Practically everybody at the Point had their babies at home. A midwife used to deliver them. I only had Cheryl in hospital, and I think it was the worst time I had of the lot of them!
INTERVIEWER: How long ago did your husband die?
MRS EDWARDS: Twenty-six years ago, in 1959. He had peritonitis. Then he developed sugar in 24 hours and it took him off. He was 57.
INTERVIEWER: What was his name?
MRS EDWARDS: William.
INTERVIEWER: And what was your father’s name?
MRS EDWARDS: Bert Murray. My young brother in Queensland is also Bert Murray - he’s 60!
INTERVIEWER: Did they try to retain any Aboriginal Culture at the mission?
MRS EDWARDS: I don’t think so. At one time the old school had a lot - of things in it - boomerangs and old spears - but I don’t know what became of them.
INTERVIEWER: Was there never any tribal language taught?
MRS EDWARDS: No, you picked up a few words. We used to hear them talk it a bit - my grandfather mainly. The men used· to have a talk and we would listen. My father could talk it fairly well, but not like grandfather - he was really good. I think it was the Wiradjuri language. Grandfather came from the Lachlan when he was a boy though - I remember he used to talk about that. But they let the language go - like the Italians at Griffith, they let their language go. Even now, I don’t think some of the young people like you to say anything in that language - the Wiradjuri words.
INTERVIEWER: I think now there’s a swing back to everyone retaining as much culture as they can.
MRS EDWARDS: Yes, and I think it’s good.
INTERVIEWER: At the mission did the women mostly work at home, or did they carry out any communal work as well?
MRS EDWARDS: No, not that I know of. They used to have one or two girls who worked in the dormitory to clean up. There were also the cooks at the dormitory. There must have been a good few kids there - mum used to tell us. They were all gone, there was no dormitory when I can remember.
INTERVIEWER: Where did you get other supplies such as clothes?
MRS EDWARDS: We used to walk into Darlington Point a lot to shop. Walking was nothing in those days. We used to walk from the old mission to school when it was over the river then at the Pointand we were never late once!
We used to pick up a family at the mud hut near the road and then we’d all march down to school. The mission school had closed down then as there was no teacher there then. The last teacher there was old Trottenham. They couldn’t get a teacher so he taught for a while - but the kids could have taught him! He was the last manager there too.
I remember the day they had the sale at the old mission - I must have been about 14 then. All the things were up for sale, and there was a sofa. Old Trottenham thought he was smart and he wanted this sofa. Anyway when the auctioneer said “What am I bid for it?” Old Mr Larkin said “Eighteen pence for Jimmy Murray”. He was buying it for grandfather, you see. When the sale was over, old Trottenham came over and said “Jimmy, you don’t want that sofa - I’ll buy it off you for three bob”. Grandfather said “No, it was there, why didn’t you bid for it?”. He said “Mr Larkin has bought it for me, so I’m keeping it”. So he kept it. This Trottenham fellow wouldn’t bid for it because it was a bit old. Old Eddie Larkins put one and six pence on it - that’s 15 cents now - and got it. So Trottenham missed out on the sofa. But he had a hunchback son, and he reckoned that he used to find this sofa comfortable for Theo to pull up to the fire … but he wouldn’t bid for it because it didn’t look good enough I suppose, and he didn’t want everybody to see him bidding for it.
INTERVIEWER: Getting back to your father campaigning for equal rights, were there any others around involved in the same thing?
MRS EDWARDS: Oh yes, there were a lot of people around, and he had three or four fellows with him. They used to put their names in the paper, and they used to write to parliament. The members of parliament used to come around ... they still do … and they used to go to see them to put their case to them, and he’d say he would see what he could do. But dad died before it came through. But they tell me that. in different places now they still don’t let dark people into the pubs. One of the sons was working in a shearing shed (a few years back now) towards Yass way. They finished shearing and they decided that they’d pull up for a beer in Yass. There was my boy and a couple of others and another darker boy. They went into this cafe and Dick said that the bloke came up and said “I’m sorry but I can’t serve your friend (the dark boy) I can serve your other friends”. The others said “Well if you can’t serve him, you can’t serve us”. So they left and went to another cafe where they could all be served together. That also happened around here, a good few years ago now, out at one of those places on the other side of Barellan.
All the footballers were out there. It was after the game. The publican said “We can’t serve all the boys, but we’ll sell you some drinks to take out to them”. Anyway, they sold the drinks to two black fellows to take out to them (the darker boys) thinking that they were two white fellows! It was Dick and Nutty Bloomfield. They were cross when they got home to think that the dark fellows couldn’t drink at the bar, but their “white” mates could take drinks to them outside.
INTERVIEWER: Was your husband dark?
MRS EDWARDS: No, he was fair, but he got darker. Everybody thought he was a white man when he came here - so did I.
INTERVIEWER: Did he have one white parent and one dark parent?
MRS EDWARDS: Well, one of his grandfathers was an Irishman married to a half-caste (I don’t know how dark she was) and the other grandfather was a “pommy” married to a dark girl. They were all mixed up - they didn’t come from around here. He came from Taree and all up that way. I think one of his grandfathers came from Dublin, he used to say. Then his other one came from England (I don’t know where though) and. one of my grandfathers came from Glasgow! So they’re all mixed up aren’t they.
It was really good at the mission, though. One of the fellows would milk the cows and they’d strain the milk, and give it to all the houses. As well as the houses and single men’s quarters I was telling you about, some people used to camp down near the river. The river was about half a mile from the houses.
INTERVIEWER: I suppose the children would have done a lot of swimming in the river?
MRS EDWARDS: Oh, yes. The teacher used to take us down for lessons in swimming in the summer time.
INTERVIEWER: Were the paddle-steamers still using the river then?
MRS EDWARDS: Yes, but not the big ones. The really big ones used to pull up at the wharf down here at the Point. I didn’t remember them. I can only remember the smaller ones - they were just a family turnout. - I saw one once dragging the punt from Carrathool up to Whitton - the Whitton Punt they. used to call it. They used to travel from Hay up here to pick up the wool so I’m told. They loaded all the steamers and took it all down, to Echuca way to sell. The mission didn’t have its own wharf though. They told me that one year there was such a great big flood that they could row boats right to Wilbriggie from the mission to get supplies!
INTERVIEWER: Do you know when the railway line went through to Wilbriggie?
MRS EDWARDS: It went in very early. I read a piece in one of the “Area News” where a woman in Griffith wrote and said the train used to come through once a week, and I was going to write and contradict her, but I didn’t. Wilbriggie was a busy siding - it was only a small siding, but it was busy. Two trains used to pull up there at dinner time. Old Peter Hall used to have a shop there and he used to walk between those two trains singing out “Papers, papers”. He had a little old shop - nothing like todays shops. There was a station master’s house there until not long ago, and Peter’s shop was down behind that.
It was really busy, and you’d never imagine today that there were two trains a day there. A coach used to come (actually it was one of those big buggies with a horse) from Griffith. There were no cars about then, and there was no railway line to Griffith. That woman writing and saying the trains used to come only once a week was totally wrong - they used to come twice a day, every day. I knew her when she was a kid, and I was an older kid, so she was talking about the same that I am.
INTERVIEWER: This has all been so interesting, Mrs Edwards. Thank you so much for sharing it with us.
Descendants