The Chronicles of a Gay Gordon

Our leading lady was Madame le Grand, who, I think, was (or had been) Mrs. Kyrle Bellew in private life. Mr. Ireland was one of our leading men, the father of that gifted young actress, Miss Harry Ireland. Maggie Oliver, an irrepressible and most clever soubrette, was ever happy and a source of pleasure to us all. Old Daniels, a Jew, was the funny man. He was a first-rate low comedian who never overdid his part. Then there was Hans Phillips, a polished actor, who, I think, married the daughter of Gordon, then the best scenic painter in Australia. Poor Hans Phillips unfortunately died at a comparatively early age. Then I remember those two charming sisters, Constance and Alice Deorwyn, who afterwards became, one, Mrs. Stewart, and the other Mrs. Holloway, the mother of another charming young actress, Beatrice Holloway.

During this time I was introduced to, and became intimate with, many of the leading managers and actors in Australia. There was Coppin, the doyen of the profession. Maggie Moore and her husband, J. C. Williamson, had “struck oil.” The four Stewart Sisters were at their best. In a pantomime the youngest of them, Nelly, then only about sixteen, was bewitching her many admirers, singing “For he wore a penny paper collar round his throat,” and dancing like a sylph. What a favourite she became, and how for many years she continued to be at the top of her profession, all Australia knows. Who that saw her can forget her as Sweet Nell, and who that had had the pleasure of knowing her but thinks of her, not as “Sweet Nell of Old Drury,” but as Sweet Nellie Stewart herself.

The friendships I made then have lasted till death has intervened. During the many years I spent in Australia I counted many shining lights of the theatrical profession as close personal friends – and I do so now. Violet Loraine was the last. At the end of my first and short engagement we got up a benefit on behalf of the two Deorwyn sisters.

The opening piece was a farce named Turn Him Out, in which I played the leading part, Eglantine Roseleaf. This was my last public appearance as a professional actor.

An event happened which put an end to any reasons why I should stay in Victoria awaiting the military appointment which had been promised me. The finances of the colony were in a low state, retrenchment was imperative, and the Premier, Graham Berry, set to work to carry it out with a heavy hand. The public services suffered heavily, and amongst them the military vote heaviest of all. Instead of any new military appointment being made, a large percentage of the officers serving were retrenched. I felt bitterly disappointed, but I could not blame my friend, General Scratchley; in fact I could not blame anybody.

My friends, or at least some of them, advised me to continue my theatrical efforts. They even offered me a tempting rise on my last salary and fairly long engagements, but I was in no way keen. I had tried it only as an experiment, and the ways of the theatre were not alluring to me, and especially after having gone through them personally. There is a good deal of fun to be got out of it, but few people know how hard one has to work, and what a slave to duty one has to become in order to rise to the top of the tree.

There was nothing for it now but to return home. I said good-bye to all my friends and left for Adelaide, South Australia, en route for Scotland.

CHAPTER XVI

AS POLICEMAN IN ADELAIDE

On arrival at Adelaide I called on the Governor of South Australia, then Sir William Jervois, the distinguished Engineer officer, who, with General Scratchley in Melbourne, was advising the Australian Colonies with regard to the land defences. As I was shown into the private secretary’s room I was more than surprised to meet his son, Captain John Jervois, who had been a cadet at the Royal Military Academy, Woolwich, with me. We had a long chat. I told him of my varied experiences, some of which naturally amused him much.

His father, the Governor, happened to be away, but he said he would arrange for me to see him the next day. Next morning I received a message from him to say that his father would be glad to see me, and would I lunch with them? I did so, and after lunch His Excellency, Sir William, asked me to his study. His son had told him all about me. Sir William informed me that one of the forts which he had designed for South Australia, Fort Glanville, had just been completed, that it had become necessary to raise a small artillery unit to man it, and that he thought I was just the man to raise and command it.

I must say I couldn’t help smiling. I suggested to him whether, in view of my experiences as regarded appointments, he really thought that I ought to accept his very kind offer. He said “Certainly; go and see the commandant” – General Downes, R.A. “I have already had a chat with him about you. Talk it over with him and let me know what you decide. In the meantime go and see the Chief Commissioner of Police, Mr. George Hamilton, who lives at the Adelaide Club, and who will do all he can to make you comfortable.” The result of my interview with the general was that I decided to stay on in the hopes of obtaining the appointment. He promised to recommend me for it.

Later on in the day I called upon Mr. George Hamilton at the Adelaide Club. He was a charming personality, well advanced in years. He was kindness itself to me, and put me up as an honorary member of the club. He told me that on the next day, which was the last day of the month, he would be making his usual monthly inspection of the mounted and foot police attached to the city of Adelaide. The police barracks were situated not far from the club, on the other side of North Terrace and beyond the Government House grounds. The front portion of the building was being utilized as the Military Staff Office. It was a peculiarity of the mounted police in Adelaide that they were all mounted on grey horses, Mr. George Hamilton being of the opinion that the police force was intended more to prevent crime than to punish criminals. He held that mounted policemen on grey or white horses would be seen at a greater distance, and recognized as such, better than if they were mounted on horses of other colours, and their presence being quicker recognized, would act as a deterrent to crime if such was premeditated. I accompanied him on his inspection, and that small force, mounted and foot, was a credit to South Australia.

I had been thinking seriously to myself, during the inspection, as to what I was to do while waiting for my appointment. It occurred to me that I had exhausted most means of making a livelihood that I knew of, and I recognized the fact that I could not afford to let the days go by without making some money to meet my living expenses. Walking back to the club after the inspection, I asked the Commissioner what were the pay and emoluments of a mounted police trooper. “Eight shillings and sixpence a day,” he said, “is their pay, free quarters, free uniform and travelling allowance while on duty necessitating more than four hours’ absence from the barracks.” Considering that the pay of a lieutenant of the Royal Artillery was somewhere about six and fourpence a day and no emoluments, the lot of a mounted policeman seemed a happy one. I straight away asked Mr. Hamilton whether he would take me into the force. He seemed very surprised, but I assured him I was quite in earnest. “Well,” he said, “there is a vacancy, but before I can promise you anything you must talk the matter over with His Excellency the Governor, and take his advice.” His Excellency thought it was quite a good idea, and informed me that I was to tell the Commissioner that he would be very pleased if I was taken on. So it was arranged that I should join up on the seventh of the month.

By this time I had been introduced to most of the members of the club and some of their families. But it was quite evident that if I was to become a policeman I couldn’t remain at the club, nor could I be on visiting terms with the élite of Adelaide. I therefore made up my mind to be a policeman, a real policeman, and give up social festivities for the time being. This decision met with the full approval of His Excellency and the general, and, I need hardly say, of the Commissioner. The only exceptions to this rule were that I would occasionally lunch at Government House and at the General’s home when convenient. I duly joined, and, remembering my New Zealand experience, I swore to myself that I was not going to resign until after being duly appointed to my next billet.

It is not to be wondered at that not only the corporal in charge of the barracks, but the mounted troopers under his charge, were surprised to see the Commissioner’s young friend, who had been inspecting them a few days before, joining their ranks. Only the mounted police were quartered at the barracks, the foot police lived privately in their respective districts and suburbs. I spent my first night in the barrack-room, and I was glad to find that amongst the twenty-five or thereabouts of the number of troopers, no less than six or seven were ex-officers or N.C. officers of the army or navy, and the remainder were men who had been selected from the pick of the many candidates who were continually offering their services to the Commissioner.

A word about the corporal in charge – Corporal Campbell, an ex-salt, a hard-headed, kind-hearted Scotsman. Corporal Campbell had to his credit some thirty-five years of mounted police work in South Australia. The greater number of those years he had spent in the northern districts of the then young colony. In those early days the duties of the mounted police in the far-off, unsettled districts were more than serious. They lived away from civilization, supervising huge tracts of country, necessitating travelling hundreds of miles at a stretch across uninhabited country, lacking in food and water. It required men of iron constitution and iron will to perform their duties. It wanted even more; it wanted self-confidence and a thorough knowledge of their work to deal equitably with the many points of dispute that from time to time arose between the settlers and the native tribes. Practically the mounted trooper was a magistrate. It was up to the mounted trooper to make all preliminary inquiries not only into criminal charges, but in many cases into civil disputes. Having done so it was up to him to prepare the cases for the justice of the peace before whose jurisdiction those cases had to be submitted.

The justices of the peace were men selected because they happened to hold some interest in the district. What knowledge had they of the law? What experience had they ever had of sitting as magistrates? Generally none. Consequently the justices of the peace leant for support on the mounted constables. It is to the credit of the mounted police of Australia, right throughout the whole of it, in every colony, that within my recollection, covering many years, I do not remember a single case of any serious complaint against the force of mis-direction in advising the magistrates when asked to do so.

While I had made up my mind to give up all social festivities, I reserved to myself one privilege, so that occasionally I could be reminded of my old social days. Perhaps my choice was guided by my success in the theatrical profession. I took a seat in the theatre in what was the best part of the house, next to the club box, for every Friday night. I used to treat myself to a good dinner in one of the hotels, all alone, and then went forth to enjoy the play. Adelaide at that time possessed only one really first-class theatre, the Theatre Royal, in Hindley Street. On these Friday nights I used to meet my men friends, but I did not allow myself to have the pleasure of meeting their lady friends. I was a policeman, and a policeman I had to be. It was really quite quaint. Everybody knew me; they all knew who I was. But it was obviously up to me to play the game.

A pleasing surprise awaited me the Monday morning following the day I joined. Corporal Campbell informed me that the then drill instructor who supervised the riding school and the instruction in sword and carbine exercises, musketry and revolver practice, had sent in his resignation, as he was going to get married and had decided to open an hotel in the flourishing district on the Mount Lofty ranges, at the foot of which the city of Adelaide is situated. He further told me that I had been appointed drill instructor in his place, and that the rank of acting-corporal had been conferred on me. This was indeed quick promotion. Besides, it carried with it many privileges. In the first place I could have a room to myself instead of sleeping in one of the barrack-rooms; secondly, I was off routine duties, such as serving summonses, investigating offences against the Police Act, and doing night patrol duties. My daily pay was raised to ten shillings and twopence a day, but I had to share with Corporal Campbell the responsibility of being in charge of the barracks. My short experience in the North Island of New Zealand stood me in good stead. My knowledge of military law and procedure came in most useful, as it naturally comprised an intimate acquaintance with the rules of evidence, most necessary in the preparation of police-court cases. I felt that I was fairly qualified to take on my new duties without any misgivings. Besides, Corporal Campbell kindly offered to coach me in carrying on the discipline and economic duties in connexion with the barracks, and the official correspondence with the Commissioner’s office.

One of the privileges of the drill instructor was to have his horse attended to by one of the troopers. I did not avail myself of this.

A young horse, rising four, had just been bought, one of the handsomest dappled greys I had ever seen, standing about fifteen hands three, full of breeding. I selected him for my mount, and determined to look after him myself. Cold work it was too in the early winter mornings to wash him down, groom him and keep the saddlery and accoutrements in order. I schooled him myself, and he promised to become a perfect hack and police horse. A police horse needs to be taught the best of manners. He must be thoroughly quiet, good tempered, and capable of being ridden in amongst a crowd without being frightened. I succeeded beyond my expectations in training him, and I was very pleased that he was turning out so well. After about two months, however, he rapidly developed the worst of habits. Suddenly, without any apparent reason, he would stop and refuse to move. He would do this anywhere, on a country road or in the middle of the street. It was no use plying the whip, or using a powerful spur. He would not go forward. He would rear, or lash out with his hind legs, but he would not move on. This happened only very occasionally, but, when it did, it was most awkward, especially if I was in charge of an escort, or on a ceremonial parade. It turned out that he was suffering from a sort of horse-mania produced by having fed when young on a plant known in the district, where he was bred, as the Darling Pea. Feeding on this plant had this extraordinary effect upon horses. I was returning one day, after being on duty at the races at Victoria Park, to the barracks. As I was passing the Adelaide Hospital he stopped dead. After a few moments of gentle persuasion I gave him a sharp touch with my spurs. He reared straight up and fell backwards on the road. Luckily my face escaped injury, but my chest and back were nearly flattened out. A few days in hospital put me all right, and I returned to duty. He chose a fit place to hurt me.

The overland railway to Melbourne was then being constructed, and a very large railway camp was established in the Mount Lofty ranges, near a place called Aldgate. In this camp were congregated all classes and conditions of men, of several nationalities. I was in charge of the barracks one evening when a report came in from the foot police station that a girl had been nearly murdered. She had been found in the backyard of a small house in a disreputable quarter of the city, with her throat cut and a dagger wound in her breast. The nature of the wound pointed to the attempted murder being the work of a foreigner, probably an Italian, of whom there was a considerable number at the railway camp. I at once ordered all the available troopers out to make the necessary inquiries in the city and suburbs, and decided to proceed myself direct to the railway camp at Aldgate.

Having a fair knowledge of the language I thought I might pick up some valuable information on the way if I met any of the Italians. I started about 10.30 P.M., dressed as an ordinary bushman, riding an old bay horse which we kept for these occasions, and my revolver hidden but handy. The distance to the camp at Aldgate was about eighteen miles, taking short cuts with which I had already become acquainted.

I pulled up at several public houses on the road in the hopes of picking up some clue. I failed till I reached a well-known hotel, the Eagle-on-the-Hill, roughly half-way to Aldgate. The landlord, whom I had to wake up, and whom I knew, told me that he had served with drinks, amongst others, two foreigners, who had ridden up on one horse, and who said they were on the way to the camp. They had evidently had a good deal of drink; he had given them some more, and they had managed to climb on to the horse again and had ridden away. He could not, however, tell me what nationality they were. This had taken place about 11 o’clock, P.M. It was now about 1 o’clock, A.M. The two men would be at the camp about this time. I could reach it comfortably about 3 A.M. I got no further information until I arrived at the camp. I had hoped to make my entry quietly at that time of the morning, but I was disappointed. I had hardly got near the tents on the left of the road when a whole troop of mongrels commenced to bark furiously. I could not get into the camp without being seen, as I had hoped. However, I found my way, after inquiries, to where the man in charge lived.

When I had satisfied him as to who I was and on what business I was bent, he put his services at my disposal at once. I told him I wanted if possible to get hold of two men who had ridden up on one horse, that they were foreigners, and I suspected Italians. To my joy he told me that he had several men he could depend on who kept an eye on the camp generally for him, both by day and night, and one of them might have noticed their arrival, as the dogs were almost certain to have greeted them in the same way as they had greeted me, especially if the horse they were riding had come up to the tents.

He asked me to go with him while he made his inquiries. The first man he roused up did not know anything about the matter. The second, however, did. He had been late himself getting home, and curiously enough the two men on the horse had passed him on the road about a couple of miles before reaching the camp. It was a moonlight night, and he had noticed they were pretty drunk, hardly being able to hold on to the horse. As they passed him they called out to him, and he recognized them as two Italians who were engaged in tunnelling, bad characters, red-hot tempered, but good workers when sober. This was indeed a piece of luck. I asked him if he could guide me to their tent. That was more difficult. He was not sure; but he knew where the ganger who was in charge of the tunnelling party hung out, and he would probably know their whereabouts.

I went back to where I had left my horse, got a pair of handcuffs I had brought with me, and took one of the stirrup leathers off my saddle. When I returned the ganger had been found and took us towards the portion of the camp where the two men shared one of the dirtiest of tents I had ever seen. By this time dawn was just breaking. I arranged with the ganger – he was a good sort – that on arrival at the tent I would go inside and would hold the two of them up. As they would be most probably in a heavy sleep this would be a simple matter. Then, having handcuffed one, I would make secure the other one’s hands behind his back with the stirrup leather and march them off to Adelaide; but in case anything went wrong inside and I called out he was to rush in to my help. He agreed. I slipped out my revolver, asked the ganger to hold up the lantern he was carrying so that I could see inside the tent when I opened the tattered flap, and, raising it, slipped inside. I had to stoop nearly double, the tent being very low, and I could just see with the aid of the ganger’s lantern.

A more filthy place is difficult to imagine. On very low stretchers covered with rags by way of bedclothes lay the two men, one on each side of me, with their heads towards the entrance to the tent. They were sleeping heavily. I turned first towards the man on my right and suddenly dropped heavily on him with my right knee on his chest, and before he awoke to his senses I had him handcuffed. I turned over to the other one, who was just trying to sit up, apparently dazed. I threw the stirrup leather, the end of which I had passed through the buckle, making a noose of it, over his head, and pulling at the end of it with all my might, I backed out of the tent, dragging him after me. It was all done in a minute, and I had them both bagged. The ganger was quite delighted as he took hold of the stirrup leather to make the man secure while I went in to pull out his handcuffed mate. This was easily done under the persuasion of my revolver.

By the time they were both outside the tent they were wide awake. We made them sit on the ground. I handed the revolver to the ganger and left them in his charge while I searched their filthy abode. I was quite rewarded. Underneath some rags which had served as a pillow to the handcuffed man I found a knife with a blade about five inches long by some three-quarters of an inch broad, such as is much in use amongst Italians. It was covered with blood, some of which had not quite dried up. I also picked up a dirty woollen comforter which he had evidently worn the night before and on which were blood-stains of very recent date. I was satisfied; I found nothing more of any value as evidence. My job was done; all that was left was to escort my two prisoners to Adelaide.

It was now daylight. As there had been no noise few of the early risers who came slouching out of their tents knew that any arrest had been made until we were nearly out of the camp, and they took but little notice. I thanked the man in charge and the ganger for their assistance, and, after partaking of some coffee at the little cottage where the man in charge lived, I started off with my two prisoners tied together, making for an hotel not far off where I knew I could obtain a vehicle to drive them down to Adelaide. I arrived in Adelaide all well, and by two o’clock they were quickly and safely locked up in the police station. They were duly charged and tried. The girl had recovered from her injuries, and the culprit escaped with a long term of imprisonment instead of being hanged; the other received a short sentence. My first attempt to hunt down criminals had come off satisfactorily.

Shortly after I had joined the police my good friend, Mr. George Hamilton, retired from his position and Mr. Peterswald was appointed Commissioner. Mr. Peterswald, having been Mr. Hamilton’s right-hand man, was thoroughly fitted for the appointment. He held it for many years, during which time the efficiency of the police force of South Australia was well maintained. As Commissioner I personally received from him during the time I was in the force every consideration. We had become personal friends as far as it was consistent with our respective positions, and, as soon as I received my first appointment as an officer in the South Australian Military Forces, he was one of the very first to welcome me to his house.

It was just before Christmas, 1881, that General Downes, the Commandant, sent for me to see him at his office. I walked across the barrack square to the Military Offices, and in a few minutes was shown into his room. He informed me that he had been unable to arrange with the Government to raise the nucleus of the Permanent Artillery Force which was required to take charge of the lately constructed Fort Glanville, and that, as a matter of fact, the contractors had asked for an extension of the time for its final handing over to the Government. He had, however, pointed out the necessity for a duly qualified Staff Instructor to be appointed to the Volunteer Force. Several new units had been formed throughout the colony. The localities in which the units had been raised were far distant from the headquarters at Adelaide, and, unless the services of some such Staff Instructor were made available, it could not be expected that they could be held together. The Government had considered his recommendation and had approved of it. He had, therefore, recommended me for the position, pending the raising of the artillery unit, and he had that morning been notified that his recommendation had met with their approval.