The Man Who Loved Crocodiles: And Stories of Other Adventurous Australians
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The Man Who Loved Crocodiles: And Stories of Other Adventurous Australians
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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781742693941 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Allen & Unwin Pty., Limited |
| Publication date: | 01/01/2012 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 384 |
| File size: | 3 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
The Man Who Loved Crocodiles and Stories of Other Adventurous Australians
By Marg Carroll
Allen & Unwin
Copyright © 2011 Marg CarrollAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-74269-394-1
CHAPTER 1
FLYING HIGH
Heather Innes, AM — Pioneer of the skies and fighting crime, Smithton, Tasmania
You may not pick Heather Innes — slight in stature with short-cropped reddish hair, a cheeky grin and quick wit — as a champion sportswoman, top pilot or formidable crime fighter. Her modesty and mastery of understatement ensure no hint of an illustrious past.
Heather hails from northwest Tasmania, a small coastal town called Smithton, where she was born on 11 June 1939. She has moved back to her roots, the wild coastline battered by the Roaring Forties that gather force across the depths of the Southern Ocean and Great Australian Bight. Stark, rocky islands jut from the sea, hiding caves hollowed by the surging waves. These islands are part of Heather's psyche; as a little girl she heard the stories of pirates, poachers and sealers. 'The islands are imbued with their history. My grandfather had sailing ships operating between Melbourne and Smithton. As a child of eight or nine I went around the islands on boats.' Heather learnt to sail and swim in the often-choppy seas and to respect the moods of Bass Strait.
Her delicate fair skin is an inheritance from her Scottish forebears who settled here in the 1860s, keeping their culture alive and calling the area they selected Scotchtown, just south of Smithton. Fishing, agriculture and forestry developed as the main industries in this otherwise untamed region. Heather is the fifth generation in a close-knit community around Circular Head. Her father, Ted, and mother, Lil, lived on Tier Hill, a street overlooking Smithton. 'Mum and Dad were born in Smithton and Dad was a supervisor at the local sawmill.' Her sisters were older — Doreen by ten years and Louise by four. 'Being the youngest probably meant I was spoilt. My parents were caring; everything they did was for us. We were brought up with strict Christian principles and learnt to value what we had. Mum made our clothes or we had hand-me-downs.'
As a country family, the Innes relied on their homegrown vegetables, fowls and a cow. 'Dad was a hunter. He caught rabbits with his dogs and shot ducks.' Heather was her father's shadow; as a child she soon mastered skinning a rabbit or wallaby. 'I used to go out on mill jobs with Dad and learnt to add up quickly just as he did,' she says, 'counting the timber when it was loaded on trucks. He was a fine carpenter and taught me.' Ted worked with blackwood, much of it rare fid-dleback with its beautiful swirled grain. He crafted exquisite furniture and his small daughter watched as he measured and fashioned the wood, polishing it to a smooth finish.
On Anzac Day 1950, the sawmill had shut down for repairs. Ted Innes was heading off to fix the problem as a passenger in the mill bus. A taxi crossed the road and ran into the bus, throwing Ted onto the road. The taxi ran over him and he suffered fatal injuries. Doreen remembers her father smiling as he said goodbye to them that day before heading to the mill. 'Ten minutes later a friend knocked at the door saying there had been an accident — how life can hinge on a moment. Heather didn't show much, but she never really got over Dad's death. Over her life she's done everything she thought Dad would be proud of.'
Ted Innes' death changed the dynamic of all their lives; Lil was now the breadwinner. 'She was handy with a needle and a good dressmaker,' says Heather. 'A foreign gentleman who owned a rather up-market dress shop offered Mum a job managing his shop. Louise was always at the top of the class and a good athlete. She might have pursued an academic career, but she took over Doreen's job as secretary/bookkeeper at Murphy's garage when Doreen married and left.'
Under her father's instruction, Heather had built a model sailing ship, and her mother sewed the sails. Soon after her father's death, ten-year-old Heather took her boat to Cowrie Point for launching. She anchored it with a long piece of fishing line, but the sea swelled and a gust of wind caught the sails, whipping it away across Bass Strait. Soon after, Heather broke into an uncharacteristic tantrum at school and Louise had to be called from the senior school to calm her.
The family ran a dairy cow on their small farm. 'Every morning one of my sisters would get the cow, Mum would milk it and I would take it back.' Heather took on her father's household tasks, cutting wood and bringing in sticks for the fire, digging the vegetable garden and growing food for the table. Hard physical work and early responsibilities gave her skills, determination and strength, qualities that honed her athleticism.
Heather was known as the class clown. The teacher would put her outside for disruptive behaviour and at times send her home. When her mother heard the latest misdemeanour she would rouse on her, although Heather suspected she inwardly smiled. Heather was a tomboy, proudest of playing in the Tier Hill boys' football team and nominated captain of the youngsters. They would take on the Railway boys in rough and tumble games. In an old photo, the little girl's face and knees are smeared with dirt as she stands in the middle of a huddle of boys, holding the ball and grinning at her teammates.
'My school reports usually said Could do better, because I was more interested in sport than study.' In the 1950s, Smithton had scant sporting facilities, but it did have enthusiastic teachers and a focus on track and field events. Heather says everyone did athletics at Smithton High School whether they were good or bad, and she was fortunate that the school owned a javelin. 'I was good at athletics, but the javelin is like throwing a spear. You need speed and timing and to be able to convert strength into energy. It's a sport where people are usually mature before they reach their peak at 25 or 27. I was relatively strong for my age and had a natural technique, which my teachers saw.'
Being from an isolated community made it hard for Heather to further this new-found sporting skill, but through her involvement in the Circular Head amateur athletics club and competing along the coast she began to work her way into the athletics world.
In 1955, sixteen-year-old Heather left school and represented Tasmania in hockey at the Australian championships in Brisbane. The following year she played against an all-England side and was again selected for Tasmania. She was fleet-footed and agile and a powerful, accurate hitter. All the time her javelin throwing was improving.
She broke the Australian senior women's javelin record as a junior early in 1956 at the Tasmanian championships with a throw of 115 feet (35 metres), which shattered the previous record by more than five metres. At the same championships she won the shot-put, came second in the high jump and gained a place in the long jump. The all-rounder entered the 80-metre hurdles at the last minute despite never having jumped a hurdle, and was narrowly defeated for first.
Training took up much of her time, so much so that when a boyfriend visited, Heather would retire to bed early and leave her mother and sisters to entertain him.
Melbourne was to host the Olympic Games in November 1956. To be chosen for the javelin required throwing on a level field that met international standards of slope, size and wind speed. Tasmania could boast no suitable events and none of the fields met the standard, so Heather had to go to Melbourne. She missed reaching the target distance of 39 metres in the first Olympic trials, but made it at the next round. Her throw was a tiny 20 centimetres short of that by the top Australian female javelin thrower.
Heather showed style in other arenas too. The Tasmanian men's hockey team persuaded her to have a go at the Luna Park shooting gallery. Duck after duck dropped to her sharp eye until she had won a pack of cigarettes, which she tossed to the men. After she shot 70 ducks in a row the gallery attendant refused to hand out any more cigarettes — a blessing in disguise for the athletes.
In October, Heather Innes was named in the Australian team, the first Tasmanian woman ever to compete at the Olympics. The people of Smithton weren't surprised. 'They felt proud and part of it. After my father had been killed and our mother brought up us girls, they supported me and raised money for my fares to compete at state level and then the Olympics.' Telegrams came thick and fast, including one from Premier Robert Cosgrove, and even one from the Smithton postmaster, who informed Heather of the busy day she had given them.
Up until selection, Heather had only been able to read books about javelin throwing and coach herself, using the heavy men's javelin at school and heaving bricks for practice. By then, she had been throwing the 2.5-metre javelin for only eighteen months. Heather also picked up tips from other athletes.
'Australia qualified just over the standard, therefore as a nation we were not strong in that event.' An Austrian coach was brought in before the Games to lift the quality of all the Australian field athletes. His assessment of the budding Tasmanian was less than encouraging. 'You'll never be any good at the javelin,' he told Heather.
I asked if this had deterred her.
'No. It made me more determined.'
Heather and Shirley Strickland, captain of the women's team, were the first Australians into the Olympic village. 'We trained together. A magnificent athlete and true friend.' As one of the youngest in the Australian (or any) team, the shy seventeen-year-old made friends with sportswomen from that golden era, including swimmer Dawn Fraser and sprinter Betty Cuthbert. 'I think those relationships last because you can look at that person and appreciate all the work they had to put in to get there. It's not whether they win or lose, but the character of the person.'
At the opening ceremony, on hearing the announcement 'Australia' she marched into the stadium as part of a team of 314 athletes. 'It was absolutely stunning and a one-off opportunity for Australia as host nation.' Heather was overwhelmed when Prime Minister Robert Menzies offered her and Betty Cuthbert a lift to the stadium in his limousine. He had heard that they'd waited in the Olympic village to meet him and might miss seeing their friend Shirley Strickland hurdle.
Heather's mother and other Smithton supporters came to Melbourne. 'Not to see me, but the Olympics,' she adds. When it came to the qualifying rounds, Heather put everything into her top throw of 38.72 metres. She was up against the 1952 Olympic champion from Czechoslovakia and the silver medallist, a two-metre-tall Russian all-rounder. Heather didn't make it to the finals, but felt proud to compete. 'I was inexperienced. For instance, all the javelins were in a box. If you were clued up you would grab a couple to see which one suited you best. I was also too small. There were many variables and a lot to learn, but it was simply an honour to represent my country.'
Baron Pierre de Coubertin, who founded the Games in 1896, espoused the importance of taking part rather than winning. His ideal was for athletes to run harder, leap higher and swim faster, but in friendly contests, which were open to everyone everywhere and ultimately would forge fellowship between nations. Heather's view reflected his vision. As a competitor, she wanted to see the focus shift from gold-medal prospects to lesser-known athletes. 'They also work their butt off for at least four years and put in incredible dedication and effort, dieting and missing social life for this one day.' In the closing ceremony, she swapped her white beret for the fez of a Pakistani marching behind her.
She persevered with the javelin and, with a personal best of 42 metres, looked set to compete for Australia at the Cardiff Commonwealth Games in 1958. But injury intervened — the tendon in her right elbow snapped. 'What wrecks you is the jarring effect of running fast getting ready to throw the javelin, but having to stop suddenly at a line,' she says.
'After I left school I had a passion to join the air force or the police force,' Heather recalls. Neither proved easy. She discovered the air force didn't accept women, and the police force required her to be 21 and wait for a vacancy through the marriage or death of a serving policewoman.
Instead, Heather worked as a clerk at the English, Scottish & Australian Bank in Smithton, then took up a position with them in England, living and training overseas for three years. While driving from Italy to Austria in a Mini-Minor with friends, she remembers a Sound of Music moment. 'We got out while driving over a pass and could hear beautiful singing. There in a paddock were nuns dressed in their blue habits and white wimples, chanting as they pulled up swedes.'
When Heather returned home to join the police force in 1961 at the age of 21, there were six other women officers in Tasmania. It had been the first state force in Australia to accept women, although they were few and far between; the first woman joined in 1917, but until 1940 there was only one other, who soon resigned. The police commissioner's 2006 report celebrated 90 years of women in the force:
Initially women were employed within Tasmanian Police to focus on infants and children in danger, youthful offending, destitute and neglected children, truants and runaways, and wayward women who were subject to 'moral danger'. As the years progressed more duties were opened up to women, including escorting women prisoners and mental patients, and working toward the suppression of offences such as fortune-telling.
It's hard to believe this last sentence could have been written with a straight face! By the 1960s, women performed many of the same duties as the men but only received 75 per cent of the male salary. Men could become constables at 21 while women were auxiliary constables until they were 25, so they were always four years behind male counterparts in going for promotion. Policewomen weren't allowed to wear trousers during the day; they had to walk the beat in skirts, stockings and high-heeled shoes.
'I had a yen to help people,' says Heather. 'I was enthusiastic and thought I could change the world. We were used mainly in social welfare roles in those days, with abused women and children. The situations were always distressing. We had to act as the investigating team and give sympathetic support at the same time.' She reflects how the laws made rape cases one of the horrors of police work. 'It was the way women victims were treated in court, cross-examined for days about the details.'
Auxiliary Constable Innes had been in the force only a few months when she was escorting a female prisoner to a hospital near police headquarters for a standard health check for sexually transmitted diseases. 'Around a corner we met two men and a woman,' Heather recalls. 'My prisoner knew them and pointed to two as having warrants out for their arrest. Green as grass, I fronted up and told them to come with me. They instantly attacked, beating me to the ground and kicking me. The woman grabbed my hair. I could hear my prisoner saying, "Get up, Heather, get up or they'll kill you." I couldn't get up because they were beating me. My prisoner stuck up for me, fighting hard. Then a police car came around the corner, saw what was happening and drove over. The two male assailants ran in different directions, but the police grabbed and arrested the woman. In her hand was a clump of my hair.'
When I asked Heather what she did next, she said she dusted herself off and continued to the hospital with her prisoner. And did she see a doctor? 'Well, no.' Heather told the prisoner to come and see her when she was released and she would help her find work. It was a bruising experience, after which she had to take a week off work. 'Can you imagine confronting them?' she laughs. 'But my prisoner helped me. I learnt early in my career that these people we classed as criminals were also human and we had an ability to work with them.'
Heather tells a story about the prostitutes on Hobart docks. The working girls knew Heather and complained to her when Victorian prostitutes began plying their wares in Hobart. The police picked them up and Heather saw that one had 52 one-pound notes. The flight to Melbourne cost 48 pounds. Heather gave the girls the choice of being charged or returning on the next plane to Melbourne. The Hobart girls were pleased to see the last of their rivals.
On her birthday, Heather received a card from the prostitutes. The ladies of the night liked the country girl from Smithton who did not treat them as criminals but as people, and was always quick with a joke. 'Very few people are criminals because they want to be, but their situation makes them so. Social circumstances make someone steal or solicit, and most murders are a one-off, instantaneous action. A small percentage maim and kill because they enjoy it, and some are insane.'
A black sense of humour has many times come to her rescue in otherwise grim situations. Heather arrived at the scene of a murder investigation once to find a man sitting in a wooden chair looking calm, except that he had a large kitchen knife protruding from his chest. He had been struck with such force that the blade pinned him to the chair. 'That takes strength,' she comments. 'The sternum is solid and hard to penetrate.'
Standing nearby was a large woman. 'It was self-defence, darling,' she told Heather.
'You'll have to do better than that,' Heather said.
When I ask if she had to learn to toughen up to deal with shocking things, Heather pauses before answering, 'You don't become tough.' I ask further how one shields oneself from constant anxiety in a confronting job. She chooses to tell me a story. Once she had three young constables with her following up a horrific motor vehicle accident in which a person was run over. The constables had to fingerprint the deceased in the mortuary to identify him because he was so mutilated. When the two young men and woman returned to the station the sun was rising, so Heather invited them to breakfast at her place to debrief after the long night. One policeman begged off but the other two accepted the offer. Sitting in her kitchen, Heather noticed the man was just pushing his cereal around the bowl, so she thought it was time to say something: 'When I see something awful, a dead body perhaps, I find it helps to tell myself that the person is no longer there. What lies before me is the shell of a human being. It is no longer the essence of that person.' The man and woman responded that they found it helpful to think like that.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Man Who Loved Crocodiles and Stories of Other Adventurous Australians by Marg Carroll. Copyright © 2011 Marg Carroll. Excerpted by permission of Allen & Unwin.
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Table of Contents
Contents
Map,Foreword,
Introduction,
1 Flying High-Heather Innes,
2 Last of the Buffalo-hide Hunters—Peter and Lena Pan Quee,
3 The Camel Lady—Di and Cedric Zischke,
4 Back-country Milkman—Bill Baird,
5 For Love of the Land—Pam Robinson,
6 The Man who Loved Crocodiles—Malcolm Douglas,
7 The Colour of Life—Ada Clark,
8 Perfect Pearl—Seaman Dan,
9 Supermum—Mabel Kilby,
10 The Promise—Ian and Lyn Conway,
11 Healing with Nature—Janice Sarre Smith,
12 Escape to Freedom with the Help of a Daisy—Milos Stefanek,
Acknowledgements,