Moruya and South Coast
Old home on the Monaro----> Looking for Blackfellas' Point by Mark McKenna "The origins of this book lie at the intersection of two seemingly independent journeys: the author's personal journey to his new home at 'Blackfellas' Point' in the Eden-Monaro district of southern New South Wales, and a professional journey into the politics of history. Using his curiosity about the history of 'Blackfellas' Point' as the pivot, McKenna has produced a wise, balanced and significant history, both of the relations between Aboriginal people and settlers of the Eden-Monaro district, and of the regional and national forces at work in shaping the way we think about our past. The author surveys that history principally through case studies; for instance, through the examination of a settler's illustrated journal for what it reveals about early colonial ideas about Aboriginal people, a court case highlighting attitudes toward inter-racial sexual relations, or a dispute about Aboriginal housing in the assimilation days. It is a technique that works well, with each case illuminating an aspect of the historicalhttp://www.michaelorgan.u/list.htmorg.a landscape once obscured" (ref).
Surrounding rich agricultural region. Situated 306 km south of Sydney via the Princes Highway Moruya (population 2520) is a coastal town reliant upon timber, dairying, cattle, vegetables, fish, oysters and tourism for its sustenance.Inhabited either by the Bugelli-Manji Aborigines or the Wandandian tribe before white settlement the coast was first surveyed from Batemans Bay to Moruya by Thomas Florance in 1827. The following year Irish-born tailor Francis Flanagan (1780-1863) became the first resident landowner in the district after the limits of settlement were extended from Batemans Bay to the Moruya River.Flanagan arrived in NSW in 1827 with capital enough to qualify for a grant but Governor Darling refused to grant land to a man of Flanagan's 'class'. After journeying to Ulladulla by boat Flanagan travelled overland with Aboriginal guides, building a family home at the site of present-day Mullenderee (2 km north of Moruya).
In 1830 John Hawdon took up the Kiora property, 4 km west of Moruya. He took it up as a squatting run and built a house there in 1836. Hawdon became an active figure in local affairs. He also owned and ran a transport ship, the Alligator, retiring to a site near Tuross Heads in the 1860s.
The first harbour in the area was established at Broulee as a dangerous sand bar at the mouth of the Moruya River caused difficulties for smaller ships and prevented access by larger ones. The Broulee area had been surveyed and gazetted in 1837 and land sales commenced in 1840 when a post office was opened, receiving mail weekly overland from Braidwood.
In 1840 Broulee became the site of the first court in the district and, the following year, was made the centre of a police district which covered the area from Jervis Bay to Eden. But Broulee's importance was short-lived. A flood washed away the particularly dangerous sand bar at the mouth of the Moruya River in 1841. In 1848 land was opened up for sale. A town site was surveyed and Surveyor Mitchell, a supporter of Aboriginal place names, wanted it called 'Mherroyah'; this supposedly being the Aboriginal word for 'resting place of black swans' which were very common in the district. Thus 'Moruya', or 'Mherroyah' was adopted when the town was gazetted in 1851.
That same year gold was discovered 60 km upstream at Araluen and on smaller creeks running into the river between Araluen and Moruya. The Araluen valley proved one of the richest goldfields in the county. Initially diggers disembarked at Broulee and walked to the site but, with the establishment of a new and improved road from Araluen to Moruya between 1856 and 1861, Moruya became the preferred service centre to the northern goldfields.
In 1859 the court was relocated, building and all, to Moruya, where it remained until the present courthouse was constructed in 1879. The Erin-go-Bragh Hotel was also shifted from Broulee Island to Campbell St, Moruya by Abraham Emmott who opened it as the 'Beehive' store. Emmott later set up his store elsewhere and used the old inn as his home, naming it 'Merlyn', until he could afford to build what was one of the first semi-detached houses in Moruya in 1875. 'Merlyn' was demolished in 1978 as part of the development of the new shire offices but the brick house survived and became the property of the Moruya Historical Society in 1975.
Moruya continued to prosper as a gateway to the goldfields.
Gold was mined at Wagonga in 1860s. Moruya is the nearest coastal town for Braidwood and Araluen, where our family of Pike, Ward , Kemp, Williams and others settled, mostly working in the gold industry.
Braidwood is a small historical town. 
My father. Hector Griscom Williams was born in
My father. Hector Griscom Williams was born in
Braidwood in Feb. 1909. (Ric) 
Saturday, 28 July 2012
Uncle Tom's tale..
Braidwood- Cooma Express 1930's> 
Braidwood, where my Father Hector Griscom Williams
was born in Feb. 1909.
New Highway South. Since 2005. Earlier Princes Highway was along the cliff-face.
Uncle Tom Pike's Tale.
For decorum's sake and so I will not be assassinated by my relatives, none of the following story is true: (It just seems to be.) When I was about nine, (I was born in 32) we went for a holiday down to Moruya to stay at Uncle Tom and Aunty Lizzie's place which was a small mixed dairy farm They were dad's aunt and uncle. Uncle Tom was grandma Lucy's brother. The family was just me, and Pat my brother four years younger, mum and dad. We went down in my dad's old green Essex truck. We boys were in the back with the luggage and mum and dad in the front seat. There were sides on the back but just boards to sit on and we had to hang on tight over the bumps and there were many on the 193 miles down there. It was windy in the back but we didn't mind because it was summer and the weather was dry and warm. I think we had our dog with us which was an Alsatian named Peter. He liked riding in the back and stuck his nose over the side, barking at any kind of dog in cars coming the other way. I remember we went down the steep Bald Hill at Stanwell Park where Lawrence Hargreaves experimented with box kites and one lifted him off the ground. There was a plaque there on the top of the ridge telling us about him and you could look out east right down the cliffs to the sea and see the breakers swirling against the rocks in the blue-green sea. Going down the pass was scary. Dad went into the lowest gear and kept his handbrake ready because it was so steep. Many vehicles, especially big trucks had careered out of control and some went over the cliffs. That was why at the bottom of each incline there was a run up the adjoining hill just as the road turned so that runaways could slow down as they went up again. Dad said that in about 19o2 when they first made this road (before that it had been a bullock track) the horsedrawn and bullock wagons had to have a big log attached to the axle so that the wagon dragged the log as a brake. Going down Bulli Pass you could see a beach near the bottom and this was Stanwell Park. Looking along the horizon and the coast you could see right down to Port Kembla and Wollongong about forty miles away. As an adult I have travelled the world a bit and seen some lovely views, but I think Stanwell Tops looking down is the best I have ever seen. In later years my brother Pat commissioned me to do a painting from the top and my effort was a dismal failure, though I remember I did have the South Coast Express train winding its way far below, going around bends on its way to Ulladulla about a hundred miles down south. I recall I wanted to stop at the beach and paddle around in the waves of the Pacific, but dad said “We’ve got to get to Kiama and we will have a picnic lunch at the beach there”. O.K., but I was hungry already.
The old car wound round the narrow coast road along the cliffs, sharp bends and past hundreds of little hamlets with small houses, which were where the mine workers lived. There were coal mines all along this area of coast. I never wanted to work down a coal mine when I grew up. I supposed I would be an electrician like dad, but I didn’t want to work with him because he was too bossy, and even Uncle Colin or Uncle Gator wouldn’t work for him anymore.
Trouble was he worked hard and expected others to do the same.
There were houses and buildings built right up to the edge of the high sheer cliffs dropping down to the wild ocean below. I remember some places like Coalcliff and maybe Coledale
. Somewhere along there I called out banging on the cab window that I wanted to do a pee. Pat, my brah wanted to go too.
There was no place to park but dad stopped on a straight stretch of road and called out “Just do it over the back, Siddie and don’t take long.!”
“No Hector” said my mum, “They might overbalance and a car might hit them. Remember Bobby” She sad when she thought of Bobby and I thought she might start crying again like she always did when Bobby was mentioned
“Alright, you boys go into that school yard and do it over at the back fence.”
It was school holidays now and the grounds were deserted.
We climbed down. I was a bit sore from sitting cramped up and Pat was starting to snivel." I gotta do it, Siddie. It’s hurting!”
“Well, wait, well.” We went to the back fence and there wooden palings leaning out a bit and they seemed rickety. A couple of palings were missing.
I could see directly down a hundred feet at the surf on the flat ledge of rock below and there was a rock fisherman with a long rod, his line thrown way out over the breakers. He was tied round his waist to a ring set in the rock ledge.
Just then a high wave came looming in and broke over him, hit the cliff-side and ebbed away in a a diminishing stream of foam and another breaker was starting to surge.
The fisherman just kept fishing, even though he was wet all over and seemed to take no real notice of the waves.
Then I saw him reel his rod in rapidly and a big fish, maybe a schnapper almost a foot long hung there twisting on the line.
My little brah peed sideways,or maybe it was the wind, because my bare leg felt a warm splash ”Heh watch it Patty. Don’t do it on me.
We went back to the car. "I don’t want to go to school here,” said Pat solemnly “Cause I might fall down and get drownded.”
We reached Thirroul and dad found a garage and bought petrol, and blew his tyres up a bit.. One tyre was leaking and later when we reached the farm dad took off the wheel, took out the inner tube and patched it with a piece of black rubber and I remember him burning the patch to make it stick.
For now, a bit of air every fifty miles was enough to keep us from wobbling off the road into the sea.
It was a tar (bitumen) road and on a hot day it got soft and stuck to the tires and stuck to your shoes too, if you didn’t skip quickly over it. We kids didn’t usually wear shoes though and the tar was real hot as we crossed it quickly.
There were a lot of potholes and even rocks sometimes that had rolled down the steep incline on the western side of the road.Sydney Wollongong
Past there the road went inland a bit and I just remember Lake Illawarra was somewhere there and there were lots of water birds, seagulls of course but tern and little wild ducks and there was even a blue heron standing on one leg.
Pat and I did a poop in among the reeds and wiped ourselves with pieces of old telephone pages mum had brought along for that purpose. We never bought toilet paper in those years. Most people didn’t too. Only the lah de dah people on the North shore of Sydney,
I had never seen a refrigerator until Sir Edward Hallstrom (also head of Taronga Park Zoo) brought out a cheap utility brand of Silent Knight refrigerators, and a lot more people could afford one.
When the ice truck was passing and if it was a hot day a few kids would run over to the rough-looking but kindly iceman and ask “Kin we ‘ave some ice, mister. It’s real dinkum hot terdye .” And he would get his ice-pick and breaks off bits and throw them to us. “Now git out, kids! And don’t stand in front of me truck, cause I can’t see yez there when I’m going.!”
Well, I forgot I was telling the story about going to Uncle Tom's place.We found the farm at Moruya. It had mostly cows but one or two horses. They had a sulky and also they did a bit of plowing because there were several paddocks where something was growing. What, I don't remember. There was a barn, a piggery, a slip-railed fence for the horses and a milking shed. There was a milking machine even though they could not have had more than a dozen milch cows. I don't remember any bull. I would have noticed one, I think.
I don't remember if there were any kids to play with, or maybe I felt too shy. Anyway I stayed near mum and dad until dad went back to Sutherland, because he had to work, saying he would be back next Saturday morning to pick us up. He took our dog back home, because he had started to chase the chooks.
I felt a bit strange because I had never been away from dad before and now there was this Lionel fellow always seeming to be laughing and talking with mum. I did not like him. I said to him straight, on the day after dad went home. "You stay away from my mum, or I'll tell my dad." This Lionel fellow answered me smiling but his eyes tightened up like a snake before it pounces on a rat "What's there to tell? I am just keeping your mum company so she doesn't get lonely.
" "Yeah." I said and I was only about nine but I was real angry."That's what I mean.!"
"Oh, ho, you are a tough little bugger, aren't you, sonny?" said this fellow."
"My name's not sonny and I'm not as tough as my dad, yet." This should have been warning enough for that Lionel fellow. My mother called me inside. She was going to wash the dishes. "Now listen Siddie, Lionel is a nice man and I don't want you saying bad things to him. Or I will be the one to give you the strap, not your dad.
"The strap is behind the kitchen door at home mum, not here."" "Yeah." I said and I was only about nine but I was real angry."That's what I mean.!"
"Oh, ho, you are a tough little bugger, aren't you, sonny?" said this fellow."
"My name's not sonny and I'm not as tough as my dad, yet." This should have been warning enough for that Lionel fellow. My mother called me inside. She was going to wash the dishes. "Now listen Siddie, Lionel is a nice man and I don't want you saying bad things to him. Or I will be the one to give you the strap, not your dad.
"Don't you be cheeky to me, or I'll get a switch and you'll see." I shut up. Mum never smacked me unless it was serious and I supposed she was serious now.
Lionel came in, beamed at mum and took up the dishtowel. I'll help you, luv." "How's it going sport?"He looked at me quizzically.
"That's not my name neither." I went outside near the cowshed. The last cows were being milked. The sun was going down. I just sat down on the grass near the slip-rails almost sitting in a cow pad
I was unhappy. I wanted to go home to Sutherland. I didn't like the farm. Some ants started to climb up my bare leg. I got up on the old buggy that Uncle Tom used to go into Moruya township. Funny there was a cushion on the seat and it was shaped like a donut with a hole in the middle. I had never seen one like that before, except, wait now! There was one in the dining room on the chair that Uncle Tom used. What was that for? I heard voices and my mum and this fellow Lionel were walking past. I crouched low in the buggy. I didn't know why I felt I had to hide.
Mum said quietly "Maybe we shouldn't. Siddie might see us, and he could tell Hec you know....."
"We are just going for a walk, that's all. Nothing wrong with that. Anyway the kid is not around. Must have gone inside to listen to the radio."
"Yes", said mum," It's time for "First light Frazer". He never misses an episode." I perked up a bit. I saw them arm in arm going through the gate and heading for a clump of trees on the far side of a paddock. I raced inside. My little brother, Pat was being bathed in a big dish by Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Tom was sitting in his chair smoking a pipe and reading the Illawarra Mercury.
"Kin I listen to "First Light Frazer" auntie Lizzie?" (She was really my great aunt though)
" What station is it on Siddie? And you have to have a bath too. You can use the same water."
But he probably peed in it. He always does." I said indignantly
" No, I didn't. You're a liar!" said Pat, indignant. "Oh, all right, I'll heat up some more water in the kettle." She went over to the wood stove, put in a couple of pieces of axe-hewn wood and filled the kettle. "It's on 2GB, 7 o'clock and it is five past now." (I could tell the time from the big grandfather clock with its swinging pendulum, though the Roman numerals were a bit hard.) My voice had an urgency. I did not want to miss an episode. I had missed the Children's Session with Mac, Joe and Elizabeth on 2FC but that was not so important. "Well." said auntie Lizzy. We don't have that station way down here."
Uncle Tom put his head up and took the pipe out of his mouth. "It's on the local station, Liz. I don't mind listening to it myself." "What Tom! You only listen to the news and the Country Hour, to my knowledge."Auntie Liz was surprised.
"You don't know everything about me, woman." They put on the old radio with its valves and its crackling and the sound coming out of a big horn up on top. It worked though. I sat enthralled at the exploits of First Light Frazer. My brah was out of the bath and with a towel around him sat near the kitchen fire, listening, though I knew he liked littly stories better about the Gumnut Babies and Hoadlies Violet Crumble-bar story of the "Search for the golden Boomerang" on 2CH. After the show, Aunt Lizzie said "Now is your bath time Siddie."
"I will do it myself. I'm not a little kid, like Patty."
"I'm not neither," said Patty, just four. "Next time I'm going to bath myself, see!" I went outside to the dunny, because I didn't want to pee in the bathwater, and it was hard not to when that warm water was swirling around you. The dunny stinked too much and I did it round the side. I looked out across the dimming light and saw my mum and that fellow coming out of the same clump of trees I saw them go into an hour before. I waited until they crossed the paddock. Good. They weren't arm in arm any more. Mum saw me and looked a bit worried. "Hello Siddie, what are you doing?" "I'm just going to have a bath. You know mummy, they only got a big tin dish, not a real bath like we got."" "Well you go in and have your bath." As I went in I heard her say in a low voice "You see! I told you!"
"Don't worry Marge I am going to give the kids five bob each tomorrow when I leave." "You're leaving?" "Yeah, I got to get back to my job, too." "You bastard!" said my mum and she broke away hurriedly.
Next morning after breakfast Lionel gave us kids five bob each. " What's this for?"asked my brah."You're not my uncle or anything." "Say thank you, boys." Said mum. I didn't ask why he gave it to us, 'cause I remembered the grass-seeds on the back of mum's dress when she came across the paddock. In a few days, after I had learned to ride a pony and gone out looking after the goats and caught a green tree-snake, and learned how to catch whiting from pippeeswe dug up on the beach at Bateman's Bay, and been in a rowboat on the Shoalhaven River and all the other beaut things you can do in the country. (It wasn't so bad down there after all,)....in a few days when dad was taking us home in the old green truck ("I got a new tyre, Marge".) he was driving along one-handed and the other arm around mum....("I missed you Hector. Don't leave us alone like that again, promise?")....dad asked us all, "Well, did yz all have a good holiday?" I decided I would never tell about the walk and the grass seeds (except now, 68 years later,) because I knew it probably wasn't true (maybe). My teacher Miss Rolley said I had a "wonderful vivid imagination" on my report card."
A few miles along the road, I asked my mum "Mummy?" She looked startled "Yes, Siddie" she answered slowly.
" Why are there cushions with holes in them, where uncle Tom sits?" Mum and dad both started laughing and then dad said. "Uncle Tom was born with three or four vertebrae more than he should have. There was no doctor around to cut them off, because he was delivered by a midwife."
"What's a vert i bra?" asked my little brother. "It's a tail", said mum. Your father's uncle has a tail! "Shut-up Marge!" exclaimed my dad crossly. "It could have happened to anybody." So this was the Tale of Uncle Tom's Tail. Ric Williams
SEA CLIFF BRIDGE from BALD HILL, STANWELL PARK
STANWELL PARK in the early part of the 20th Century.
STANWELL PARK 1960
STANWELL PARK looking north to BALD HILL, world famous hang gliding place. Site of Australia's famous aeronautical experimentalist, Lawrence Hargrave.
STANWELL PARK RAILWAY VIADUCT. At 215ft high, this is the highest railway viaduct in Australia. It was built in the late 19th century and is made out of sandstone.
KELLYS FALLS, a beautiful spot in Stanwell Tops.
THE MINERAL POOL has Hargrave Creek run through it and over making Hargrave Falls. The creek continues to the northern lagoon at Stanwell Park. The Mineral Pool is now in the private hands of a developer and there is no longer access by the public.
The NORTHERN ILLAWARRA and ROYAL NATIONAL PARK COASTLINE. The RNP is the 2nd oldest declared park after YELLOWSTONE PARK in the USA. This view would not have changed much since Captain James Cook sailed up the Eastern Coast of Australia in 1770.
Here is a distance view to the north of the SYDNEY SKYLINE. Taken from Mt Mitchell, Illawarra Esarpment at Stanwell Park. The Royal National Park is in between.
The ILLAWARRA ESCARPMENT is basically made of Hawksbury Sandstone, so in some cases the weather has interesting effects causing natural rock sculptures. This is the THUMB AND FINGERS ROCK on Mt Mitchell, above Stanwell Park.
Here is another weather affected ROCK SCULPTURE on the ILLAWARRA ESCARPMENT. This sits above the coastal village of Coalcliff.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
Araluen-Braidwood N.S.W. Old Gold Towns of our gr. grandparents
 | Araluen (NSW) Araluen is one of the most famous gold towns in New South Wales. Located in the heart of the Southern Tablelands, today it is little more than a few buildings in a beautiful valley noted for its orchards. The goldrushes of the late 1840s disrupted the established cattle grazing in the area with labourers rushing to the Bathurst area hoping to find their fortune. Location: 318 km from Sydney via Goulburn and 364 km via the Princes Highway. | Araluen and surrounding village |
Three Views of Araluen Valley.. Hector Williams (my father) born here. 1909. http://www.braidwoodmuseum.org.au/html/publications.html
Clarke gang robbing coach three views of Araluen Valley
Historical remnant
Braidwood looks to me like a town that is rightly trying to trade on its history but hasn't quite made it yet. Sure, the tourists are there but, one suspects, not quite in the numbers that places like Berrima get. While some buildings are pristine it's clear that others are suffering from neglect. One hopes that the town will hang in there and ultimately rival some of its northern neighbours on the southern highlands. I, for one, certainly hope so. It has a lot to offer. At first you may wonder why there are so many fine buildings in a relatively small town. Like so many others, it was a result of gold, though that was not the original reason for settlement. William Kearns, William Packer and Henry Marsh frist came here in the summer of 1822. Suggesting the land was suitable for settlement, the next two years saw a number of people moving into the district. The most significant, as far as the town's name is concerned, was Dr Thomas Braidwood Wilson, a surgeon who had been granted land in the area. It begs the question as to why a surgeion would bother. I have no answer for that. When the site for the future township was chosen in 1833 part of Wilson's 'Braidwood' farm was resumed by the Government and consequently the town was named after the farm which, in turn, was named after Wilson. It was surveyed in 1839 and the first land sales took place in 1840.
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Monday, 7 June 2010
The Dog on the Tuckerbox
Actually, despite the line from the original verse, the monument of the Dog on the Tuckerbox lies about five miles (eight kilometres) north of the New South Wales town of Gundagai.
Celebrated in Australian folklore, poetry, and song, the Dog on the Tuckerbox, a monument to the pioneers of the Riverina region, has become an icon of Australia's past.
And so a legend is born
One version of the dog's role in pioneering times is that the dog was guarding its master's tuckerbox and other possessions while he sought help from being bogged at a river crossing. The master, a bullocky or driver of a bullock team, never returns but the dog continues to guard the tuckerbox until its death.Tucker is an Australian word for food, so the foodbox the dog was guarding symbolised the sustenance (which needed protecting) of the region's pioneers.
But it's been said that in the "actual" original, it wasn't "sat" that the dog did. (Think of a one-syllable word starting with "s" that rhymes with "sat" - consider the misfortunes that befall the bullocky - and think what other misfortune occurs to, in a manner of speaking, top it off.)
Verse and song
These lines of verse are part of the story penned by an unknown poet writing under the name of Bowyang Yorke and published in theGundagai Times in the 1880s. A later version was written by Gundagai journalist and poet Jack Moses.Both versions speak of a bullock team being bogged at a river crossing nine miles from Gundagai with the dog tenaciously "sitting" on the tuckerbox.
The story of the dog and the tuckerbox was enshrined in the song Where the Dog Sits on the Tuckerbox (Five Miles from Gundagai) by Australian songwriter Jack O'Hagan who also wrote Along the Road to Gundagaiand When a Boy from Alabama Meets a Girl from Gundagai. (O'Hagan had never been to Gundagai.)
1932 unveiling
The monument of the Dog on the Tuckerbox was unveiled in 1932 by the then Prime Minister of Australia, Joe Lyons, on the 103rd anniversary of Australian explorer Charles Sturt's 1829 crossing of the Riverina's Murrumbidgee River.The monument was the creation of Gundagai stonemason Frank Rusconi, another of whose works, the Marble Masterpiece, is on display in town.
Gundagai, 386 kilometres from Sydney, lies along the Hume Highway which runs inland from Sydney to Melbourne.
Yorke's lines
Part of Bowyang Yorke's poem about Bullocky Bill:
As I was coming down Conroy's Gap, I heard a maiden cry; 'There goes Bill the Bullocky, He's bound for Gundagai. A better poor old beggar Never earnt an honest crust, A better poor old beggar Never drug a whip through dust.' His team got bogged at the nine mile creek, Bill lashed and swore and cried; 'If Nobby don't get me out of this, I'll tattoo his bloody hide.' But Nobby strained and broke the yoke, And poked out the leader's eye; Then the dog sat on the Tucker Box Nine miles from Gundagai
'Nine Miles from Gundagai' by Jack Moses
I've done my share of shearing sheep, Of droving and all that; And bogged a bullock team as well, On a Murrumbidgee flat. I've seen the bullock stretch and strain And blink his bleary eye, And the dog sit on the tuckerbox Nine miles from Gundagai.
I've been jilted, jarred and crossed in love, And sand-bagged in the dark, Till if a mountain fell on me, I'd treat it as a lark. It's when you've got your bullocks bogged, That's the time you flog and cry, And the dog sits on the tuckerbox Nine miles from Gundagai.
We've all got our little troubles, In life's hard, thorny way. Some strike them in a motor car And others in a dray. But when your dog and bullocks strike, It ain't no apple pie, And the dog sat on the tuckerbox Nine miles from Gundagai.
But that's all past and dead and gone, And I've sold the team for meat, And perhaps, some day where I was bogged, There'll be an asphalt street, The dog, ah! well he got a bait, And thought he'd like to die, So I buried him in the tuckerbox, Nine miles from Gundagai.Where is Gundagai?http://www.freebookstoread.com/onssr10_1.htm
our selection by steele rudd.(above)
http://www.freebookstoread.com/onssr10_1.htm
Hello Wally I am your cousin Sid, mostly known as Ric. You may know I have been absent from Australia 1st avenue rock hill Woronora Cemetery
I can’t remember the name of your other little sister. How is everyone? Please contact me by letter or e-mail. The phone is o.k. guess but I am a bit deaf and my youngest son Brian usually answers it for me. Bargo N.S.W. Old Gold Town of our gr. grandparents
Three Views of Araluen Valley. Hector Willams born here. 1909.http://www.braidwoodmuseum.org.au/html/publications.htmlClarke gang robbing coach three views of Araluen Valley
The influx of people had really begun. There was an amazing expansion of trade, of people to help with food supplies, of communication and just everyday needs. Land development occurred from Narooma in the south into the mountains in the west to Araluen  the scene of a daring escape by the bushranger, Tom Clarke. It has been suggested that he was assisted by a warder when on 3rd October 1865 he clambered over the Braidwood goal walls and ran to a racehorse which and been tethered nearby. He managed to successfully escape and subsequently organised the Jingera mob who became a well organised and well known gang of bushrangers in the local area.The adventures of the Clarke gang reached a high point in the late months of 1864 and early 1865. Tom Clarke stuck up the Araluen mail and robbed a number of travellers between Braidwood and Moruya in January 1865. Out of the events immediately following this robbery came the shooting of Constable Miles O'Grady of Nerrigundah and perhaps most infamously the Jingera Range murders of four special constables who had gone to try and capture Tom Clarke. All these events are recorded in various monuments around Braidwood. Eventually the Clarkes were captured on the 27thApril1867 some miles south of Araluen. was a huge 350 pound (170 kg) piece which was 67 per cent pure gold and was found at Braidwood in November 1869. These days you could still retire on what it would be worth. Inevitably the gold rushes brought with them the bushrangers. The Braidwood area became one of the wildest and the most infamous of all of the goldrush areas with both the Clarke family and Ben Hall regularly holding up gold consignments out of both Braidwood and Araluen. Braidwood played a central role in the capturing of a number of bushrangers because it was the administrative centre of the southern goldfields of New South Wales and was the headquarters of the New South Wales police force (Southern Division) during the dubious reign of the Clarke gang. This then explains the reason for the Italianate court hours. Braidwood goal had been the scene of a daring escape by the bushranger, Tom Clarke. It has been suggested that he was assisted by a warder when on 3rd October 1865 he clambered over the Braidwood goal walls and ran to a racehorse which and been tethered nearby. He managed to successfully escape and subsequently organised the Jingera mob who became a well organised and well known gang of bushrangers in the local area.The adventures of the Clarke gang reached a high point in the late months of 1864 and early 1865. Tom Clarke stuck up the Araluen mail and robbed a number of travellers between Braidwood and Moruya in January 1865. Out of the events immediately following this robbery came the shooting of Constable Miles O'Grady of Nerrigundah and perhaps most infamously the Jingera Range murders of four special constables who had gone to try and capture Tom Clarke. All these events are recorded in various monuments around Braidwood. Eventually the Clarkes were captured on the 27thApril1867 some miles south of Araluen. |
Braidwood...http://heathhill.blogspot.com/2006/11/historic-braidwood.html
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