The old killer

Despite the gloom and doom of the depression years, many departmental officers were appointed and promoted during the 1930s. The decade also marked the time when courthouse staff ceased to be almost entirely ‘boys from the bush’ and were often second generation city boys unused to the rural life.

About this time one young man from Brisbane was promoted to his first appointment as clerk of the court. In charge of a single-officer station in a rural community, he was to be master of all he surveyed and the one-man band in town – the one-stop government shop, long before the arrival of the modern Queensland Government Agents system.

As a ‘townie’ born and bred in Brisbane, the young man was taken aside by his kindly old clerk of the court, a man of vast experience, particularly in rural Queensland, and told the ways of the bush. He had done some country service, but mostly in larger provincial towns and never as the sole government representative. He had also recently married a local Brisbane girl, a librarian by profession whose family had always been involved in the literary scene, a lady of elegance and gentility.

The couple moved west and north to their posting and everything seemed to be going smoothly on the work front and they made friends, particularly among the other itinerants in the town such as bank workers, police, nurses and post office clerks. One day, a local grazier phoned asking for help with some Lands Department returns. He was half a day away from the town and asked the clerk of the court if he could stay open for him on Saturday afternoon.

This was the moment of truth. ‘Yes, of course,’ was the young man's answer, remembering that his old clerk of the court had told him that country folk would never forget a kindness, or a slight. He arranged for the local grazier to come to the courthouse and complete the necessary forms. Saturday came and went, the forms were completed and despatched, some other sundry work attended to and all seemed well.

A phone call came about two weeks later – the grazier had some subsequent queries on the Lands returns and he asked: ’Could you keep open for me again on Saturday arvo?’ ’Yes, it will be a pleasure,’ was the reply.

The next Saturday came, the forms were duly completed and sent, and the young clerk of the court escorted the old grazier to his truck. As they shook hands, the old grazier pointed to the back of the truck and said, ’That hessian bag’s for you and your missus. Just to say thanks.’ He handed over the bag, knotted with rope, to the young clerk of the court and drove off as the heavy bag lay in the courthouse veranda.

The young clerk of the court opened the bag and saw the clean carcass of a whole sheep. Taking it home to his wife, he explained his windfall and showed her the grazier’s bounty. She screamed, said that she did not know what to do with it and to get it out of the kitchen. Without refrigeration or a clue on where to begin, the clerk rang the police sergeant and asked what to do.

On Sunday, after church, all the itinerants gathered at the police residence for one of the best lunches they had ever had – roast mutton, with a take-home bag for everyone.