Tag / Perth

by Eddie

Slumming it

Pages from poverty

Poverty Point, Fremantle, March 1953

A couple of years ago a YouTube video Postcard from Perth was much circulated round these parts. Filmed in 1954, it showed an idealised vision of a utopian city.

How idealised? Just look below the line. Comment after comment from people wishing they lived in the 1950s rather than now.

So, how accurately did this film portray the reality of everyday life? On a scale of 0 to 10, we would have to say minus six.

Imagine being old, or disabled, or Aboriginal, or a war veteran. What was Perth like in 1954 for these people?

The answer is they were to be found living in dwellings constructed of rusting corrugated iron and old bags. These ‘homes’ afforded little protection from the weather. Floors were just sand with chaff bags as mats.

Without water or power, none of the houses had bathrooms or sanitation. Improvised wells provided washing and drinking water.

These slum conditions were not in remote communities. One was in Fremantle between South Beach and the Power Station. Known as Poverty Point, the colony of more than fifty was adjacent to a smouldering rubbish tip, a fertiliser factory using fish offal, and an old abattoir. It was strewn throughout with filth and rubbish.

Many of the buildings were constructed from flotsam and jetsam, second-hand galvanised-iron, broken bricks, fruit cases, and chaff bags. Fences were bedsteads and curtains were improvised from sugar bags.

One pensioner, A. A. Bottomly, said he wasn’t proud to be found living in those conditions. But with rents so high in the city, “I have my choice of starving in a slum in town or eking out a frugal existence rent free here. I choose this.”

Another pensioner, Mrs M. Westicott, had lived in the slum for seven years. She and her husband, a war pensioner with a lung complaint, had to make ends meet by salvaging objects washed up the beach. Mrs Westicott had once been known as the ‘Queen of Coogee’, but was now reduced to third-world conditions.

Andy Nebro, one of the Aboriginal residents at Poverty Point, was just 22. He was hoping to take his wife out of the shanty town to somewhere more liveable. We hope they made it.

So when you look at Postcard from Perth, just remember that there could have been other postcards in 1954. But the government didn’t want you to see those ones.

by Eddie

When museums were fun

two_headed_calfThe Western Australian Museum used to be interesting.

No. Wait. Hear us out. We’re serious.

In 1888 they displayed a (dead) chicken with three legs.

The following year they outdid themselves and had a four-legged chicken on display. 1890 appears to have passed without the number of legs on chickens increasing.

Not until 1903 did the museum collect a small dead wallaby with four hind legs and two pouches, which was shot somewhere near Bunbury.

1906. Two headed calf from Australind.

1910. A Bunbury lamb that looked like a rat.

The following year another four-legged chicken (yawn). This one pickled in a bottle of spirits.

In the middle of World War I, the museum obtained a fish with the body of a snake but the head and tail of a fish. They think of naming it the Anzac Frost Fish.

1920. Two headed lamb (haven’t we had one of those already?)

In 1936 Otto Lipfert, the museum’s taxidermist, stuffed Bricky, the Bayswater freak calf, and put him on display. Bricky later went on tour to UWA.

During World War II, two-headed lizards were all the rage. (And also in Japanese horror movies in the following decades.)

After that there were a whole string of two-headed lambs, bobtails, and the like.

The WA Museum should open its archives and redisplay each and every one of these donations. Or explain why they’re hiding them.

Also, a new museum is about to open in Perth. It had better have at least one freak of nature, or it’s letting the side down.

by Eddie

Brutish behaviour, and that’s just the zookeepers

penguinsSpeaking of Perth Zoo. In 1924 they threw a Tudor dress-up day. And a record crowd sat among the palms as Queen Elizabeths and Mary Queen of Scots.

Among the crowd was a journalist who wrote under the pen-name Omar Cayenne. We’ll call him Omar.

Omar loved the botanical garden feel of the place, but the plight of animals made him feel sick.

Take, for instance, the bears. Their habitat was so disgusting that if a circus proprietor kept animals in such condition he would have been jailed. They lived in conditions so bad, Omar recommended that no one should even look at them.

The Australian dingo, an animal whose home is the wide, open spaces. This poor brute was cooped up in an enclosure that resembled a freezing chamber. With only a concrete floor, the sick animal was trying to scrape a hole for himself in the hard floor. Obviously no one at the zoo thought to have put some sand in his den.

Nor did Omar approve of putting live frogs into the snakes’ cages, so they could be devoured in the presence of horrified children.

Walking through the grounds, all you could detect was the general air of decay and neglect. The excuse was that there was no money for repairs. Something Omar dismissed as a simple lie.

During the summer the zoo was the rendezvous for tens of thousands, attracted by the beautiful gardens and pleasure attractions for the kiddies. The tennis courts were packed and expensive to book, and so profitable the zoo kept expanding the number of them. There was plenty of money available to spend if they wanted to.

Omar had once lived near the zoo and could testify that during the summer months the stench arising from the place was overwhelming. He suspected the local government would have closed the place long ago if it wasn’t paying a good portion of the local rates.

Keep the birds and the plants, said Omar, and make an ideal botanical gardens. As for the animals, if their present miserable conditions cannot be improved they should be mercifully destroyed, and thus end this tragic farce.

The Dodgy Perth team have never been in favour of zoos, and it is entirely possible that Omar’s recommendations from 1924 should stand today.

by Eddie

Son, we need to talk

The effects of onanism on the body

The effects of onanism on the body

Parents have two main fears about their children. One is they might be molested by a stranger. The other is that they might touch their own genitals.

Of these, every parent will understand, the second is by far the worse. And the good parent will do everything in their power to stop it happening.

Wait. What?

Dodgy Perth has been reading parenting advice from 1917. And we have come to the realisation that we did not bring up the Dodgy offspring correctly.

First of all, the statistics. 150 Perth boys aged around fourteen were interviewed as to whether or not they had abused themselves. 60% confessed they had indeed spanked the monkey at least once. However, scientists suspected the figure could be at least nine out of every ten.

Nearly every fourteen year old boy had been exposed to pornography, and all except two of them knew where their local brothel was to be found.

So what can we do to stop this outbreak of compulsive onanism?

Firstly, every parent should read the recommended book, Toward Racial Health. Already done that? Good, then we’ll go on.

Parents should not be shocked if their child confesses they have chocked the chicken. If they have, of course, it is entirely the fault of the parent for not having intervened earlier.

For example, if a boy of fourteen is innocent of the crime he will have no problems with his mother being in the bathroom while he showers.

But what should we do if our child has already buffed the banana?

Well do not rush to the doctor immediately. That can come later. Instead make sure he sleeps with his hands outside the sheets, and not on his back. If he feels the temptation coming on, he must have a cold shower. (You knew that one was going to be in there didn’t you?)

Encourage him to sleep on the verandah, and don’t dress him in thick pyjamas. Night clothes should be as thin as possible to prevent overheating.

If he still shows tendencies to fish with the trouser trout, cut down on the meat and never ever feed him pork.

In conclusion, don’t shirk your responsibility by handing your boy some book on ‘what a boy ought to know.’ Talk to him yourself. You will find it quite easy once the ‘ice is broken.’

And that’s not a euphemism.

by Eddie

There’s no cure for stupidity

child_vaccinationHarold Martin, of 315 William Street, was very very angry. He had just sat down to breakfast and opened the newspaper.

There, in June 1906, Harold read Dr Harvey Astles sneering at opponents of vaccination as being misinformed at best and positively dangerous at worst.

Well, Harold was one of those opponents of vaccination. He believed it was a “pernicious, disgusting foolery”. Oh, it was also a “cruel, filthy, unnatural heathenish operation”.

He wasn’t a doctor like Harvey, but Harold knew that vaccination was dangerous. All he needed was a proper diet, good habits, pure air, and abstinence from all kinds of medicine.

Warming to his theme, Harold warned that vaccination did not stop smallpox, it was actually the cause of that disease. Dr Astles was responsible for spreading disease, and he was the one who called himself a medical man.

Further, Harold wanted a law passed making vaccination a criminal offence. He called on the society for the prevention of cruelty to children to save the poor helpless little mites, who will all suffer and die if doctors are allowed to inoculate them.

In conclusion, we would all be better off if every physician, surgeon, midwife, chemist, and drug were wiped from the face of the Earth.

So what does this story teach us? That vaccination sceptics have been around since inoculation was invented. And they were no less stupid then than now.

h/t Museum of Perth

by Eddie

The theatre and its knockers

We can't help admiring the hats on the right

We can’t help admiring the hats on the right, November 1939

A couple of weeks ago we wrote about the first stripper in Perth, who performed at His Majesty’s. However, we were slightly wrong when we said she was probably the first nude on the Western Australian stage.

In fact as early as 1939 some critics were saying that audiences were getting bored of turning up to His Majesty’s just for nudity and were now seeking higher quality plays. This was, of course, far too optimistic, and Perth’s grandest theatre was still trying to entice you with ‘beautiful nudes’ in the 1950s.

Naked women on stage were not illegal unless—and this is the bizarre bit—they moved. So for several decades, audiences at His Majesty’s were treated to a series of motionless ‘tableaux’, artistically arranged young women dressed only in their birthday suits.

In 1939, one of the stars who people paid good money to see was 20-year-old Barbara Clark, advertised as Australia’s No. 1 Glamour Girl. Strangely she claimed to have been doing her act for five years, which would mean she started performing nude at fifteen!

However, the critics may have been slightly right about how mere static nudity had become tiresome. By 1940, His Majesty’s was resorting to strippers to keep the crowd numbers up.

So, to the older generation who despair at the availability of pornography in the 21st century, ask yourself this: who was buying tickets for entry to His Majesty’s in the 1930s?

by Eddie

Meet Thomas Jones

82x108mm

I still think we need more beer.

There’s drunk. There’s very drunk. And there’s Thomas Jones, a middle-aged, grey-haired man. In June 1920, on his way into town, Thomas felt thirsty, so he stopped off at the Commonwealth Hotel (now the Hyde Park) for three pints of beer.

He was a little hazy as to which pub was next, but remembered having six pints. Then another hotel. Two, maybe three, pints there. On arrival in town, Thomas decided to have a few at the City Hotel (now the Belgian Beer Café), before wandering down Hay Street.

Unfortunately our hero was not unknown to the Perth constabulary. Sergeant Johnston, noticing an unsteady gait, decided to place an arm-lock on poor Thomas. Perhaps lacking full control, Thomas fought back and used some choice Anglo Saxon.

In court, Thomas tried for sympathy. He denied resisting arrest.

Thomas By Jove, your worship, I really don’t seem to get much of a chance in Perth, when I think of it. As a matter of fact, I should be charged with drunkenness—I was very drunk. I may have used a little warm language—I really cannot recollect.

Prosecutor I don’t think you can remember much of what happened at all, if you had had as many drinks as you say.

Thomas Sir, I can remember things which happened in my boyhood’s days!

Magistrate Oh, we needn’t go so far back as all that. We’d be here much too long. Are you calling any witnesses?

Thomas Sir, of course not. I have no witnesses for the defence. As a matter of fact, I’m not quite right in my head.

The sentence was 28 days.

by Eddie

Moondyne Joe and the slut

Moondyne_JoeHow has Dodgy Perth been going this long and not done a single Moondyne Joe story? Well, we are about to put that right.

But we are mainly writing this because it lets us tag this story with the word ‘slut’ and see what kind of traffic that brings.

In April 1888, Joseph Poole was charged with having unlawful possession of a kangaroo slut, called Bessie, which was of enormous value, being worth £7.

Wait. What?

Well, in the 1880s ‘bitch’ was too rude a word to use in public, so the politically correct term for a female dog was ‘slut’. Seriously. As for the kangaroo bit, it referred to a greyhound.

Kangaroo_GreyhoundAnyway, said slut was said to be the property of James Nicholls. One Saturday, he saw a woman standing outside the Criterion Hotel holding a couple of dogs. James recognised Bessie and demanded she hand her over.

The woman refused and told James she had bought her from Moondyne Joe for £5. Which was odd, because James had also bought Bessie from Joe.

Now the story gets a little tangled. When Moondyne Joe had been penniless a few months earlier, James had lent him some money and agreed to buy Bessie. It is unclear how the dog ended up back in Joe’s hands.

In any case, Bessie was sold again, this time to Thomas Edwards, for another £5, but somehow made her way into Joseph Poole’s care. And from there she ended up in the hands of the unnamed woman outside the Criterion Hotel. But by some chain of events it was poor Joseph who ended up in court.

Confused? We certainly are.

So Joseph Johns (aka Moondyne Joe) was summoned to explain what was going on. He admitted selling the dog to Thomas, but strenuously denied having previously sold her to James. In fact, Joe claimed he was the victim here, since James was simply trying to appropriate Bessie in exchange for the money he was owed.

The magistrate was not convinced. To him it was clear that Moondyne Joe was a crook (what a surprise!) and he had obviously sold the same dog twice.

The slut belonged to James and he should get her back immediately.

If there’s a moral here at all, it’s probably that it’s safer not to do business with bushrangers.

by Eddie

Welcome to the asylum

straight jacket

Have you ever wondered what makes people go insane? Wonder no more. We provide the evidence from the combined admissions to both Fremantle Asylum and Whitby Falls in 1902 (Graylands not yet having been constructed).

It has to be said that the Dodgy Perth team seem a very high risk group. Although we will decline to mention which of the following categories apply.

CAUSES OF INSANITY IN PATIENTS ADMITTED DURING 1902
Mls Fmls Ttl
MORAL
Lonely life 5 — —
Love affairs (including seduction) — 3 3
Mental anxiety (business) 5 — 5
Mental anxiety (domestic) 1 6 7
Overwork 2 4 6
Religious excitement 5 1 6
Shock — 1 1
PHYSICAL
Accident 1 — 1
Change of life — 2 2
Congenital 3 — 3
Epilepsy 4 1 5
Heredity 2 — 2
Intemperance (alcohol) 15 2 17
Intemperance (opium) 4 — 4
Masturbation 8 — 8
Puerperal state — 4 4
Privation 7 — 7
Previous attacks 2 2 4
Senility 3 2 5
Sunstroke 3 1 4
Venereal disease 7 — 7
Unknown 8 2 10
TOTAL 85 31 116
by Eddie

Islamophobia, 1832 style

When we think of the early Swan River Colony we usually picture white British settlers and Aborigines. And no one else. So it might come as a surprise to find there was a thriving Muslim community (perhaps from Indonesia) right from the start. Unfortunately, we only know this because racist bigots decided to beat them up.

 

On Christmas Eve 1832, Samud Alli was on his way to George Leake’s store when John Velvick grabbed him outside the Perth Hotel and said “You black man, give me glass of grog.”

Samud protested that, as a Muslim, he didn’t drink. So Velvick punched him two or three times, using language the newspaper said was “too disgusting for publication”.

Then Velvick held him while his white mate started laying into Samud with a stick. He was only rescued when other Muslims arrived and calmed the situation.

The Muslims went back home, while the white men went to another pub, Mayo’s Bar. Here, they got very pissed. Twenty of them (including teenagers) grabbed heavy sticks, determined to start a fight with their Muslim neighbours and tear down their huts.

Leading the baying mob, Velvick demanded Samud fight him, to which he calmly replied “I no fight.”

“You bloody bastard, you must fight,” screamed Velvick, calling on his twenty mates to lay into the eight Muslims.

The defenceless party had no chance. Most were still sitting down, and some were attempting to shake hands with their attackers.

The beating was so bad, every Muslim was covered with blood.

For this vile act, Velvick got three months. But a worse fate was waiting for him.

Shortly after he was released from prison, he and his brother were killed by Aboriginal resistance leader, Yagan. Neville Green has suggested the Velvicks were singled out because they were known to be violent racists.

Unfortunately, events spiralled out of control, leading ultimately to Yagan’s death at the hand of a colonist.

Welcome to the founding of our colony.