29 October 2019

Thoughts on the Boggo Road Plans, October 2019

New plans for redeveloping the land to the side of the Boggo Road heritage prison have been made public fairly recently. The idea is to build retail and hospitality facilities between the prison and the Ecosciences building. The plans can be seen here, and basically look like this (pink):



This would involve demolishing some structures on the eastern wall of the prison, namely the heritage-listed remnants of the No.1 Division (1970s), including a watchtower and Detention Unit (containing six punishment cells). This would be a loss as they are entirely unique structures within Queensland, and could be adaptively reused as interesting spots fairly easily.

However, I was prepared to accept structural changes in previous redevelopment proposals, and can accept this one too, albeit reluctantly. Having said that, those earlier proposals did involve rejuvenating the interior of the prison, while this one focusses on the exterior. I have been involved in over a hundred meetings about Boggo Road redevelopments since the early 2000s, and am now inclined to let things pass. I'm pretty tired. Something new needs to happen with Boggo Road. It cannot be left to stagnate forever.

My primary concerns actually relate to what will be happening INSIDE the heritage prison, which is currently underused and overpriced. I have long argued that Boggo Road needs to be transformed into a professionally-managed community/arts/education/tourism/heritage hub, a view shared by professional organisations I have worked with in developing a common vision.

Visitation needs to be of a higher level and better quality than is currently achieved by what is sadly marketed as little more than a ‘haunted house’ attraction. It could be so much better than having what is often just a handful of people attending a ‘ghost tour’ on weekend nights, or tiny history tours during weekdays. And it should go without saying that more patrons in a thriving heritage/arts centre would be of more benefit to the retail and hospitality businesses leasing space in the new development.

The state government still seems to be undecided on the subject of what will happen inside the prison which is an unfortunate position to have after about 20 years thinking about it. I would say that what is needed is more government investment, an approach taken by other state governments in developing such world-class heritage prison sites as Port Arthur, Fremantle Prison and Old Melbourne Gaol. Boggo Road needs real government backing in order to become as good as those places.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on the project.

UPDATE: I've just seen a news article on this subject. The tour company manager at Boggo Road supports the demolition of the detention unit and other structures because they're overgrown and decayed anyway. Where the hell has he been for the last six years? Standing by letting that happen, not speaking up and protecting the place or drawing public attention to it? Too busy inventing ghosts to bother with the prison itself, obviously.

(I am the secretary of the Boggo Road Gaol Historical Society, but my comments do not necessarily reflect the position of that group on this matter.)

22 October 2019

The Life and Times of Ron Tullipan

Not too many people these days have heard of Ron Tullipan, which is a shame because he was a very good Australian novelist during the 1960s. Somewhat like his reputation, his South Brisbane Cemetery grave has also been neglected, and it has become something of a recent mission of mine to revive the public's memory of Ron.

Ron Tullipan.

He died in 1975 at the age of 58, and while his life was relatively short, it was a full one. Ron was born in Murwillumbah, New South Wales, in 1917, the fourth son of travelling showman Edgar Tullipan, a travelling showman, and his wife Vera. The 'Tullipan Bros. Circus' travelled regional Australia, with such acts as buckjumping, acrobats, 'sword bouts', 'high-jumping greyhounds', and horse-riding monkeys. Ron's childhood was somewhat erratic, and his parents divorced when he was 12, and for some time he was a State ward in the St Vincent's Orphanage in Nudgee.

Advertisement for Tullipan Bros. Circus. (Western Champion, Barcaldine, 10 April 1909)

As a young man, Ron worked on farms in the Warwick district, and during the Depression of the 1930s he went on the road, travelling from town to town to find bits of work here and there. He was then employed as a labourer. These were all vivid, Steinbeckian life experiences that he was to draw upon later as a writer.

Ron got married in 1937 with a Catholic ceremony at St Ita's Church, Dutton Park. He was aged 20, and his bride was 14-year-old Katie Power. They had four daughters together but sadly two died in infancy - Patricia aged 2 years in 1940, and Helena aged 17 months in 1943. The family were living on Gladstone Road, Highgate Hill, at the time and the girls were interred in the South Brisbane Cemetery.

Along came World War II and Ron joined the army in July 1941. He wanted to serve overseas but was posted to the 5th Armoured Regiment, which never left Australia. He became discontented and played up a lot, and served numerous periods of detention for disobedience and being absent without leave. Ron was eventually posted to the 58th/59th Battalion and sent to Bougainville in December 1944, where he was wounded in action about six months later. The war ended soon afterwards and he was discharged.

It was during his time in the army that Ron developed what he called a 'fever to write’, and he taught himself by analysing the work of others. He divorced Katie in 1947 and moved to Sydney, where he hoped to establish himself as a writer. He lived there with Vi Murray, who along with her young son adopted his surname. Literary success eluded him, and in the early 1950s they moved north to Cairns where Ron worked on the wharfs and became a union man. He had strong sympathies for the struggles of the working class, which is also reflected in his writings.

Ron had some short stories published around this time, and also earned money as a commercial artist. He and Vi travelled overseas in the 1950s, and visited the Soviet Union. In 1958-60 they ran a lolly shop in London, and Ron took art lessons.

When they got back to Sydney in 1960, his first novel Follow the Sun was published, based on his time working on the waterfront. He wrote in the Social Realist style, focussing on the hardship and exploitation of workers.

His next two novels were also very autobiographical. These were Rear Vision in 1961 and March into Morning (1962), which both won Dame Mary Gilmore awards. During the 1960s he lived in the Blue Mountains and lectured for the Australasian Book Society and was the president of the Sydney Realist Writers' Group. He completed his last novel Daylight Robbery in 1970, drawing upon his knowledge of bushranger history.


Sadly, his writing and art were not selling well at this time, and in 1973 Ron and Vi moved to Brisbane where he became vice-president of the Queensland branch of the Artists' Guild of Australia. He died of a brain haemorrhage in November 1975.

Ron was laid to rest in the South Brisbane Cemetery, in the same grave as his infant daughters Patricia and Helena. This grave, like others around it, has fallen victim to a badly-placed tree that drops large amounts of debris and completely covers everything below with dead leaves and bark sheddings. Ron's grave sometimes requires comprehensive clearing just to make it and the memorial plaque visible (thank you, Friends of South Brisbane Cemetery, especially Lisa, Dan and Tracey). The state of the grave was perhaps analogous to the state of Ron's literary reputation, which is also in danger of becoming forgotten to history.

I do my bit to try and raise awareness of Ron, and stop at his grave to tell his story during our occasional 'Dying Arts' tour of the cemetery, and am making my way through the book March Into Morning. The thematic influence of Steinbeck is clear in that novel, as is the autobiographical nature of the work. A teenage orphan, sent to work on a Queensland farm, runs away during the Depression to experience the 'freedom' of the road, travelling from settlement to settlement and developing his class consciousness and socialist sensibilities through a series of incidents and encounters along the way. The political narrative can be quite unsubtle at times but I am enjoying the book. I've sat by his grave a couple of times to read some passages, which I like doing because of that weird and irrational sense you sometimes get that the person in the grave might somehow be aware of you being there. It feels like I'm showing him he hasn't been forgotten. Ron Tullipan couldn't be described as a major Australian author, but his life and times are well worth remembering.

Plaque on the Tullipan grave, South Brisbane Cemetery. (FOSBC)

02 October 2019

A Brisbane River Shark Attack, 1847

"SHARKS.- On Wednesday, several very large sharks were seen in the river, near the Steam Navigation Company's Stores; one of these monsters, upwards of fourteen feet in length, was observed in pursuit of two immense stinging rays, which, in their violent efforts to escape, threw themselves high and dry on the bank of the river, where they were captured. Persons bathing should be extremely cautious in venturing far from the side, particularly when others are not present to render assistance in case of accident." (Moreton Bay Courier, 27 November 1847)
This warning against bathing in the Brisbane River seemed clear enough. Every summer was breeding season for bull sharks and large females were abundant in the river. However, just one week after the warning appeared in the Courier, a schoolmaster named William Robertson and his friend James Stewart, who was a manager at the Binnie & Co. saddlery in Brisbane, decided to cool off one Tuesday morning by taking a dip in the river near what is now known as the North Quay. These were of course the days before air conditioning and suburban swimming pools. The river waters were one of the few options of staying cool in the colonial subtropical summers.

View of Moreton Bay Settlement, 1835.
Moreton Bay Settlement by Henry Boucher Bowerman, 1835. (State Library of Qld)

Stewart undressed and entered the water, but the wary Robertson had a ‘certain misgiving that an accident was about to happen’ (or so he later claimed) and remained on the riverbank. After a just a few minutes, Robertson heard a sudden scream and turned to see a large shark, belly upwards, rushing to attack Stewart about 20 metres away. Stewart immediately headed for the bank, but the shark gripped his thigh, badly tearing the flesh. Over the following minutes there was a violent struggle as Stewart inched towards safety, and sometimes he seemed to be underneath the shark, and sometimes on the back. He was bitten a second time, this time on the calf, causing another serious wound.

He finally reached the bank and Robertson pulled his exhausted friend from the water, while the shark swam slowly away. Seeing that Stewart was in a bad way, Robertson immediately ran to get help from Dr Keith Ballow (Resident Surgeon of the Moreton Bay General Hospital), while the victim tied a handkerchief around his wounded thigh in an attempt to stop the haemorrhaging. Ballow arrived and bandaged the wounds before rushing Stewart to the hospital.

Word of the attack quickly spread through the small town, and a number of residents arrived at the riverbank intent on capturing the shark. Among them was Jones, the barrack sergeant, who baited a large hook with a bullock’s heart and succeeded in dragging the shark to land. It was a Bull Shark, just over three metres long. As was usual after a capture, the shark was cut open so that the stomach contents could be examined, out of curiosity, but the disappointed spectators found that it was quite empty. The jaws were removed for display.

Stewart's leg eventually had to be amputated. He later moved to Sydney, where a correspondent to the Brisbane Courier saw him in 1866 and noted that, "Stewart, who had the fight with the shark, is walking about Sydney still - or rather limping, poor fellow, for his leg has been cut off long since."