When a group of motoring enthusiasts headed by the inventor Henry Sutton (1856-1912), returned to Melbourne after a morning’s motoring to Mordialloc on 9 December 1903, they had in mind more than just an idea of forming a “social organisation and club composed mainly of persons owning self-propelled vehicles or motor cycles”. Indeed, the real reason the (Royal) Automobile Club of Victoria (RACV) was formed was to organise “events such as motor car races, motor gymkhanas and other contests” to satisfy an emerging group of adventurous thrill seekers. After all, it would be many decades before the motor vehicle revolutionised transportation and transform the character of the city.

That Aspendale Park, the private playground of James Robert Crooke adjoining the bayside suburb of Mordialloc would stage the RACV’s first car rally in 1904, suggests Crooke was not only a racing enthusiast, but possibly one of the fifty-five men who attended the inaugural meeting at the Port Phillip Club in Flinders Street, Melbourne. As Veronica Hahn notes, Crooke “fulfilled his dream and established a racecourse and pleasure ground” when the Aspendale Racecourse (1891-1931), named after his champion horse Aspen, held its first meeting on 14 April 1891 during the 1890s’ depression. By 1906, Crooke’s dream was complete with the construction of a motor raceway, acknowledged as Australia’s “first commercial track”.

In 1923, The Argus newspaper reported that Crooke, “encouraged by the success of motor-cycle racing on the grass track”, had decided to construct a banked speedway. The track, probably made of bitumen according to Ron Jacobs, consisted of two straight runs, each about a quarter of a mile long with a width of 60ft and “banked on the outside to a height of 27 feet” permitting competitors to travel at speeds of more than 100 miles an hour.

German-born William (Wilhelm) Lehmann (c1882-1924) was described as “Australia’s foremost motor-cycle rider…credited with having driven tens of thousands of miles in competitive events alone”. An esteemed and well respected member of the Victorian Motor Cycle Club, he was “one of the pioneer motorcyclists of the world” and arguably the oldest in Victoria. The son of Frederick William Lehmann, horse driver and Helena née Wills, he came to Australia in 1902 with the champion pace cyclists Thaddäus Robl and Pieter Dickentman acting as their mechanic and motor-pacer. It was Lehmann’s “intimate knowledge of motors [that] materially contributed to their success” during the duo’s enthralling performances throughout Australia. Around 1904, he married Parramatta-born Frances Amy née Bell (1882-1968) in Richmond, Victoria a marriage which produced twins, Charles William (Carl) (1905-96) and Ella. The family resided at 6 Ellis Street, South Yarra.

With the improvements to the motor track, the 1924 season of racing at Aspendale was largely anticipated and produced some capital sport throughout. From the opening meeting in February to the enthralling concluding carnival in June, five meetings and 97 events had been contested, but never had a fatality occurred at the raceway. That was until Fate could no longer wait and sadly for Bill Lehmann, his time had come to go where we all must go.

Monday 9 June 1924 was the King’s birthday holiday in Melbourne and if not for the “unpromising weather in the morning” the day was ideal for racing. The Sporting Globe captured the mood of the event;

“Thousands of spectators at the concluding motor carnival at Aspendale were thrilled to the marrow of their bones. Old and young women, youthful motorists, and seasoned and indifferent sportsmen, stood on their tiptoes with excitement as the speed kings dashed along between 70 and 90 miles an hour…It was without doubt the most sensational carnival ever held on the new Aspendale course…”

Lehmann had been out of competitive racing for some years and had only recently began to compete again. Whether or not he had ridden on the new Aspendale track is not known, and perhaps it was for this reason that he decided on the day not to allow his son Carl to ride together in Race 2, the 10 lap Senior Sidecar Handicap. Instead, while a disappointed Carl Lehmann had to contend with being a spectator amongst the crowd, 16-year-old Ainslie Robert Irving, a member of the Richmond Amateur Cycling Club instead accompanied Bill Lehmann in his Invincible JAP combination.

In the first heat of the race involving five competitors, Lehmann and Irving started off the 35 second mark of the scratch event. The first lap saw the speed kings roar around the track at an average of 60 miles per hour. Then on the first turn of the second lap, Lehmann and several others took the bend at a slightly increased speed in the hope of gaining the advantage, but the first signs of mishap occurred when the Invincible misfired. With only a few yards of straight track separating the first and second turns at the back of the course, suddenly Lehmann’s speed dropped to about 40 miles an hour. Before long, the other competitors had sped away and Lehmann was now 100 yards in the distant when without warning his front tyre blew and the machine skidded along the track out of control for some 40 yards distance. In the seconds that must have felt like the passing of an eternity, there was little even a skilful driver as Lehmann could do than hope for a lucky escape for himself and Irving. It was not to be. At 15 miles per hour and with just seconds remaining before the out of control cycle was about to stop, the front tyre got wedged in the forks causing the vehicle to somersault landing on the top of bank. The occupants landed on the grass below out of sight of the spectators, many of whom did not see the incident with eyes on the leading group. A dazed Irving staggered to his feet, but Lehmann lay motionless, his mouth and nose bleeding. Dr George Scantlebury (Cheltenham Pioneer Cemetery), one of the first car owners in the Cheltenham district was called to the casualty room. When asked by George McCarey, manager of the Aspendale Racing Club “How is he?”, the reply was “I think there is no hope” and Lehmann was pronounced dead two minutes later.  

The inquest into William Lehmann’s death before the City Coroner, Daniel Berriman on 12 June 1924 was a straight forward matter. Just three witnesses were called to give evidence – William Henry Perry, Constable 5371 from Murrumbeena Station; George Malcolm McCarey, of 6 Cunningham Street, South Yarra; and Charles Harling Parker, motor engineer of Collins Street, Hawthorn. Parker was to give the following evidence on the circumstances surrounding Lehmann’s death;

“On the 9th inst. I was clerk of the course at the motor racing at Aspendale. The deceased, William Lehmann was riding a motor cycle with side car and while taking the bottom bend on the track the front tyre burst. He started off the mark and during the second round, I was at the back of the course. There were 5 competitors. The front tyre of his cycle burst which caused the machine to skid and it seemed to go about 40 yards when the tyre got wedged inside of the front fork. The machine was then near the top of the banking and it turned over the top of the bank and the two were thrown out of the side of the track. I went to the deceased. His head was down the bank and he was unconscious and he was bleeding from the mouth. He had a helmet on his head. I conveyed him to the casualty room. Dr Scantlebury was called on the scene and he attended to him. When the accident occurred, he was going between 40 and 45 miles an hour and when he actually turned over he was not going more than 15 miles an hour. The track is a safe one for racing. The pace that he was going was not excessive as there were speeds twice as fast later in the day. I think that 80 miles an hour would be excessive. The track is well guarded from the public. The spectators were a quarter mile away from where this happened. There are two fences between where the track is and where the spectators were. It was a dry day and the time was about 11.45 am”.

And so Bill Lehmann, the speed king was buried in the Brighton General Cemetery on 11 June at the age of 42; his wife Frances and son Carl are also interred together in grave CofE*ZF*187.

Source: 
The Argus 4 July 1923 p12; 10 June 1924 p6 & p11, 13 June 1924 p19.
The Herald 9 June 1924 p1, 10 June 1924 p7, 12 June 1924 p5.
The Age 10 June 1924 p6 & p9, 11 June 1924 p1.
The Sun News-Pictorial 10 June 1924 p2.
The Sporting Globe 11 June 1924 p11.
The Australasian 14 June 1924 p1279.
Mordialloc-Chelsea News 12 August 1998 p2.
Death cert of W Lehmann 1924 (6493).
ADB Vol 6 R-Z (HS).
Brown-May, A & Swain, S (eds)., “The Encyclopedia of Melbourne” (2005) p 489-491 & p586.
Hahn, V., “Aspendale Park Racecourse”, Kingston Historical Website (http://localhistory.kingston.vic.gov.au/htm/article/93.htm).
Research by Lois Comeadow.

(Image from The Herald 9 June 1924 p1, Monash University Archives courtesy Jenny Coates)

Margaret Lillian ‘Peggy’ Alford (1907-24) of 6 Phoenix Street, South Yarra was like any other normal seventeen year old. On the cusp of adulthood, Alford had yet to pass the initiation into the adult world, a path fraught with danger but for the lethal mix of freedom of independence and youthful innocence.

On the night of 6 November 1924, Alford decided to go for a joyride in a car driven by Leslie George Mahon (d 1982) aged 20 of Claremont Avenue, Malvern. Two of Alford’s friends, 20-year old Roy Charles Murphy (Springvale Botanical Cemetery), motor-driver of High Street, St. Kilda and Gordon Thomas ‘Tom’ Craven aged 18, a pastrycook of 14 Park Street, South Melbourne were also in the vehicle; it was the first meeting between Alford and Mahon. Cruising along Chapel Street at the corner of Grey Street a little after 8:00pm, the group met Alford’s friend Margaret ‘Bobby’ Davenport, a 17-year old machinist of Weigall Street, South Yarra. “How about coming for a car ride?” asked Alford. Hesitant, not knowing the three males, and seeing that beer was being consumed, Davenport could sense trouble. Alford urged Davenport to come along “Come on, anything for a ride!”, and Davenport reluctantly accepted. Sometime later outside the picture theatre, the group were met by Alford’s elder brother George Edward (b 1904) who later said he did not see his sister in the vehicle; Davenport saw the encounter differently stating that “he wanted a drink”. The group then spent some time looking for another girl before meeting 16-year-old Ivy Elizabeth Ross of Wynnstay Street, Armadale around 10:00pm. “Hullo, old sport, will you come for a car ride?” asked Alford and so Ross accepted on the condition she would be back before 11:00pm thus becoming the last passenger of three males and three females. Before picking up Ross, the group were believed to have drank two bottles of beer; Alford and Davenport “about a mouthful each”.

Heading towards St. Kilda, they decided to stop outside the entrance of Luna Park where more alcohol was consumed; Craven and Murphy went to buy another six bottles. Low on petrol, they then continued towards Brighton along Marine Parade and then St. Kilda Street where the St. Kilda-Brighton tram ran. In the front of the large Hudson vehicle were Mahon driving and Davenport, while Ross, Craven and Murphy were in the back seat with Alford sitting on Murphy’s knee on the offside.

Passing the Brighton Yacht Club at an estimated 60 miles an hour, Ross said “We had better not travel so quickly. Cut it down!”. Turning the slight bend at Park Street, they were quickly confronted with a tram heading in the same direction; Davenport said “We cannot squeeze through there. Stop!”. Left with no time to avoid a collision, Mahon swerved to the right on the wrong side of the road only to find the road blocked by an oncoming tram and a motor-car parallel heading towards them. He swerved still further to the right, mounting the footpath before striking an electric light pole; the car swung around travelling an estimated 25 feet before it pulled up. Alford received the full force of the impact; her earring was found embedded in the wood of the pole and she died a short time later before a doctor arrived. What followed was a remarkable scene of confusion. Mahon staggered about asking repeatedly “Is poor old Maggie dead?”; Craven was entangled in some of the electric wires calling out “The wires have got me!”; after asking for a drink of water, Ross and Davenport became hysterical and fled the scene; and soon after the excitement of the crash people were seen stripping the car of parts, the engine being practically undamaged.

While recovering from his injuries at the Alfred Hospital, Mahon was arrested and taken to the City Watchouse where matters took a sensational turn; Mahon, Murphy and Craven were all part of a gang of thieving hooligans. Further charges followed against Mahon, one for having stolen from Mr Ross Grey-Smith, law student of Marysville Street, St. Kilda a (balloon) tyre valued at £30 outside St. Kilda Town Hall; a second having broken into the shop of Mr Joseph Barber a tailor of Glenhuntly Road, Elsternwick and stealing six suits and four hats valued at £20 in the early hours on the day of the fatal accident; and a third charge “with having on October 10, broken into the shop of Mr Arthur Rawlinson, tailor of High Street, Thornbury and stolen seven yards of twill valued at £6”.

Appearing before Mr Justice (William) Schutt (1868-1933) on 11 December, Mahon pleaded guilty but denied he was driving under the influence of alcohol and was travelling no more than 25 miles per hour. The Crown Prosecutor, Hugh Macindoe (q.v.) argued Alford met her death through the criminal negligence of Mahon; motor vehicles “were engines of destruction if not properly controlled” and Mahon “had a duty to the general public to drive carefully”. Justice Schutt told the jury that even if Mahon was not under influence nor driving recklessly “he deliberately took a risk by going on the wrong side of [the] road”. He was found guilty with a strong recommendation for mercy. Remarked Justice Schutt: “If you have any feeling at all it must be a sad reflection for you that you were the cause of death of the girl”. At the coronial inquiry held before Mr D Berriman PM on 27 and 28 November, Craven stated after leaving Luna Park, they consumed no more alcohol, to which Berriman asked “If you had no more to drink, why were only one broken bottle and two empty bottles found in the car?” to which Craven replied “I do not know. When we are in a motor car we meet a lot of people”. Berriman – “Yes; you will meet a lot of people, but they will not be on earth”.

And so ended a tragic joyride on the Esplanade. Along with the shop breaking charges, Mahon was sentenced to nine months with both Craven (twelve months) and Murphy (three months) joining him at the Governor’s pleasure. For Murphy, born in 1904 at North Fitzroy, Melbourne the second of six children to Frederick and Amelia née Rees, redemption came in his later years when he enlisted with the Royal Australian Air Force in June 1942 (No 57066; discharged Nov 1945) attaining the rank of Ldg-Aircraftman. He died in September 1965. And for Ivy Ross, one of five children to Alexander Ross and his wife Elizabeth née Sheldon her first ride in a car was to be one to remember.

Peggy Alford was laid to rest in RC*W*30 on 8 November 1924.

Source: 
The Argus 7, 8, 10, 11, 18, 21, 25, 28 & 29 November 1924, 10, 11, 12, 13 & 17 December 1924.
The Herald 7 November 1924.

The mysterious side of crime – the feared underworld – is governed by a rigid set of unwritten rules, one of the most sacred being the “code of silence” for to ‘rat’ on a fellow crim would be to sign one’s own death warrant. Certainly for George Hill Campbell (1898-1931) of 24 Wrexham Road, Windsor the threat of retribution was all too powerful and not even with death knocking on his door would he break the code.

Seen in company with two men at the Canterbury Road overpass opposite St. Kilda railway station at 7:50pm on the night of 6 April 1931, Campbell was twice shot point blank range from behind at the bottom of the ramp. The two assailants – both described as aged about 28 to 30-years-old, 5 feet 8 inches tall, medium build and clean shaven, one wearing a blue suit and light coloured felt hat, the other a khaki-coloured rain coat and identical hat – were seen running north along Canterbury Road towards Middle Park, then west along Mary Street to Beaconsfield Parade where they vanished without trace. Three days later, a .32 Bayard automatic was found under the fence of a house in Mary Street which later proved to be the murder weapon.

Described as 34 years of age, 5 feet 9 inches, brown hair and brown eyes, with a distinct mole on his left cheek, Campbell was rushed to the Alfred Hospital where Detectives Banner and McEwan recognised him as an astute ‘fence’ (receiver) of stolen property. With death knocking on Campbell’s door – he died the following afternoon – the detectives were unable to break the code of silence and another crime went unsolved (Banner: “If you knew who shot you would you tell me?” Campbell: “No. You ought to know better than to ask me that”). However, police believe Campbell confided the identities of the assailants to fellow gang members just before he died to carry out another of the time-honoured codes of the underworld: an eye for an eye.

Campbell’s life makes for remarkable reading. Described as having come from a good home with exemplary parents – Matthew Campbell and Emily Jane née Rae – numerous attempts were made to reform him before he developed into a hardened criminal; he squandered £1,250 pounds left by his late father in “riotous living”. He first came before the law in November 1922 when he was charged as a suspected person at Cheltenham and given a suspended sentence, his known priors included four years in Brisbane (August 1923) for the robbery of £240 worth of goods from “Duncalfe and Co Ltd”; two years for the robbery and vicious assault of Mr A Thomas a telephone linesman at Frankston (April 1929); and just before his death, had been released on 6 March after serving three months for assault. The police strongly suspected Campbell’s involvement in other crimes, including the robbery of “Head and Son Pty Ltd” a drapery firm in Bridge Road, Richmond on 19 March when £2,000 of goods were stolen, a crime they speculated that led to the underworld feud for Campbell had broken another unwritten rule: equal distribution of the spoils. 

For never is honour among thieves more sacrosanct when it comes to the division of the spoils.

Campbell was laid to rest in Pres*U*21D on 9 April 1931.

Source: 
The Argus 7, 8, 9, 22 & 23 April 1931, 10 June 1931.
The Herald 7, 8 & 13 April 1931, 9 June 1931.
The Age 7, 8, 9 & 22 April 1931, 10 June 1931.

As the cortege made the slow, sad, silent march from Flinders street station to the Brighton General Cemetery on the afternoon of Friday 27 March 1925 few of the thousand or so mourners could not have but marvelled at the extraordinary life of Stewart Earl Mailer (c1891-1925).

On the previous Wednesday morning at the Point Cook airbase where Mailer was regarded “as a most efficient pilot and instructor” with the infant Royal Australian Air Force, Flight Lieutenant Raymond James Bronwell had passed the Avro 504K (A3-28), an instructional machine equipped with dual controls, as being fit for service that day. Flying Officer Mailer was scheduled to fly at 9:15 am that fateful morning with 21 year old Cadet Officer Alan Moorhouse Charlesworth (1903-78, Springvale Botanical Cemetery), a Duntroon graduate who had transferred to the RAAF in January that year (“the thrill of flying attracted him”).

Rising to 2,000 feet they made what Charlesworth would describe as “three good” landings. But on the fourth attempt things went terribly wrong. Sitting in the rear seat, Charlesworth was in control being instructed by Mailer through the speaking tubes. At 400 feet, half-a-mile from the hangar and coming in to land for the final time, Charlesworth shut off the engine allowing the aircraft to glide while turning to the left in a 45 degree bank into the wind. But suddenly at 300 feet, the nose began to drop and before Mailer had time to gain control, the plane was in a fearful dive to destruction just a few hundred yards from the outermost hangar.

Mailer took the full brunt of the impact receiving a fractured skull as well as horrific leg, arm and body injuries; his body was crushed into an almost unrecognisable heap while Charlesworth had a miraculous escape from death being saved by his safety belt. He walked away with a sprained ankle, face lacerations and shock (“the rescuers had difficulty in making him lie down until an ambulance would take him to hospital”).

When interviewed at the Caulfield Military Hospital where he would slowly recover from his injuries, Charlesworth was at loss to explain the cause of the accident;

“We had been up for half an hour, and when l cut off the engine and prepared to come down the aeroplane was in perfect control. I cannot account for the sudden dip. It may have been caused by a slight gust of wind under the aeroplane’s tail, but l cannot say. At first I thought that I could right the machine in time, but the nose quickly sank lower, and Mailer came to my aid. Even though I thought there was a chance of avoiding the crash, but it came like a flash”. 

With Mailer regarded as “the star pilot at Point Cook in big machines”, The Herald would conclude that the “finest pilot in the world could not have avoided the crash”. Sadly, it was reported that just a few minutes before his death, Mailer had flown over his weatherboard villa in Cherry Street, Werribee waving to his wife, Opal; the newly weds had gone to the theatre the previous night.

Though Mailer was the second flying casualty of the newly formed RAAF after Corporal Bertie Whicker (q.v.) in 1921, his death was not all in vain; Charlesworth would go on to serve a 30-year career in the RAAF (1925-55) attaining the rank of air commodore; in 1945 he succeeded Air Vice-Marshal Adrian (‘King’) Cole as commander of the North West Area responsible for the defence of northern Australia. He retired on 31 December 1955 and was made Commander of the Order of the British Empire (1946).

As the coffin, draped with the Union Jack on which rested Mailer’s sword and cap at the head of the procession neared the corner of Glenhuntly and Hawthorn Road it was indeed a remarkable life the mourners could reflect on. Born in Sydney, New South Wales, he was educated at Sydney Grammar School and Stanley House School, Scotland. On returning to Australia, Mailer received a commission in the 1st Australian Infantry Regiment in 1911 at the age of 21. When war broke out three years later, he was in England and received a commission with the Northumberland Fusiliers arriving in France in September 1915. Later transferring to the Royal Air Force serving with No 141 and 147 Squadrons, on 1 October 1917, Mailer was awarded the AFC and held the Gosport Certificate of Instruction; he resigned his commission with the RAF in December 1922 having attained the rank of Flight-Lieutenant before returning home. On 10 November 1924, he joined the RAAF and was posted to Point Cook. Preceded by the Royal Air Force Band, the motor-trailer carrying the coffin continued down Hawthorn Road to the haunting strains of Handel’s “Dead March in Saul” where it was carried from the trailer by eight non-commissioned officers. An eloquent tribute by the Chaplain General Rev R West Scott was followed by the firing of three volleys over the grave (Pres*T*17A) as the trumpeter played the “Last Post”.

Source: 
The Age 26 March 1925 & 23 April 1925.
The Argus 26, 27 & 28 March 1925, 23 April 1925.
The Herald 25 March 1925.
The author gratefully acknowledges the input from Grahame Higgs and Dean Norman (http://www.adf-serials.com).

(Image courtesy Department of Defence Gallery image 000-148-064.  Copyright Commonwealth of Australia reproduced by permission)

Number 54 Wheatland Road, Malvern is a neat picturesque Queen Anne-style home. When Lily Laura Robertson née Locke (1878-1935) rented the residence in June 1910 from the estate of George Smith, it was the only building on the south-side between Lysterville Avenue and Tooronga Road. Located in a quiet secluded area away from the hustle and bustle of inner Melbourne, the home was to await the return to Australia of Lily’s husband. But fate, so often the arbiter of the best laid plans was to leave Lily a widow with a five year old son.

Born at Liverpool, England on 13 January 1854, William George Robertson (1854-1910) arrived in Melbourne on 4 March 1858 on the Merchant Prince together with his parents William Robertson (d 1901) and Ann née Milne (d 1887). Educated at Neil’s private college in Carlton, he was understood to have enlisted in the Victorian Navy on 26 September 1870 and may have been one of the crewmen who accompanied HMVS Cerberus during its voyage from England. Robertson probably left the Navy to gain experience as an engineer where he worked with the shipping company Huddart Parker & Co principally onboard s.s. Wendouree. Described as 5 foot 2½ inches tall, slight build, hazel eyes and fair hair, in January 1890, he re-joined the Navy as Engineer serving on the Cerberus and Countess of Hopetoun. As a member of the Permanent Naval Forces, Robertson volunteered for service with the Victorian Naval Contingent to join the Allied forces in China – Australia’s first involvement in war on terrorism. His diary is historically significant as one of the few contemporary accounts of the conflict. While on active service, Robertson was promoted Chief Engineer on 22 February 1901.

Nineteen hundred and nine ushered a new era of naval defence in Australia. Australian patriotism and national pride was no longer satisfied with the annual Imperial naval subsidy for protection of the Pacific seas. As The Age editorial noted;

“Only an ignoble race, one sunk in luxury or sloth, would in the hour of trial look for succor [sic] and refuge from hired ships, even though manned by our brothers, while we stood helplessly by and made no attempt to strike a blow for ourselves”.

In February 1909, the Fisher Labour government ordered the building of three River Class destroyers in Scotland. Then at the Imperial Defence Conference in July, a shift in policy from the Admiralty and a rise of the German war machine settled the issue.

As the most experienced and competent engineer in the Australian Navy, it was decided that Robertson should benefit from being involved in the construction of HMS Yarra by Denny Bros of Dumbarton. (The other destroyer, HMS Parramatta was built by the Fairfield Shipbuilding and Engineering Co. in Govan). This would enable Robertson to oversee the re-assembling at Cockatoo Island, Sydney of the third destroyer initially built in Scotland, HMAS Warrego paving the way for another three – HMAS Huon, Torrens and Swan – to be constructed entirely in Australia under his supervision.

And so on 27 May 1909, along with Lieutenants Feakes and Biddlecombe, Robertson set sail for Scotland. A pragmatic man, three days before his departure, Robertson wrote out his last will and testament bequeathing his estate to his wife Lily whom he married at Essendon on 11 September 1901. Their only child, William Allan Robertson (1905-62) was born on 17 August 1905.

With construction of the Parramatta and Yarra in earnest, they were launched on the River Clyde on 9 February and 9 April 1910 respectively. By 10 September with the destroyers complete, the naval force under Captain Frederick Tickell was ready to set sail for Melbourne. Lieutenant-Commander Thomas Biddlecombe was given command of the Yarra. They left Portsmouth nine days later sailing through the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean stopping at Singapore (2 November) where repairs were made to a bent propeller, Broome (15 November), Fremantle (23 November) and Adelaide (7 December).

After an absence of 18 months, Robertson was eager to be home. In letters to his sister Jessie Semmens née Robertson (1865-1955), he “repeatedly expressed pleasure at his expected return”. Indeed, Lily travelled by train to Adelaide and spent two days with her husband. And a good thing too. The day after Lily left to return to Melbourne, her husband was dead.

Arriving in Victorian waters on the morning of Friday 9 December, the ships remained at anchor in Portland all day. Dignitaries welcomed the crew and a large number of people inspected the 700-tonne modern war vessels. A wireless message was sent to Williamstown indicating the fleet would depart Portland at 11:00pm that evening for the final leg of the 14,322 mile journey.

On Saturday, the people of Melbourne and Queenscliff put on a gay spectacular to celebrate the arrival. Over 1,150 guests crowded onboard the Courier forming the Commonwealth welcome party and were joined by the Lady Loch and Osprey each with over 200 State dignitaries. The flotilla left Port Melbourne pier in the morning sailing down the Bay where the destroyers were scheduled to enter at 12:30pm. Up until now, the voyage had been described by Captain Tickell as “singularly uneventful”. That was until tragedy struck.

William Robertson was conscientious in his work, a man who left nothing to chance. During the voyage, the steering gear on the Yarra had caused the crew some trouble. While Robertson “did not take to himself any blame for the wrong working of the gear”, he would nonetheless worry over his work. Eight miles south of Port Phillip Heads and steaming at 13 knots, the sea was moderate with a slight swell. At 11:56am, Able-Seaman John Doherty spoke briefly to Robertson who was sitting on the tiller casing smoking. Doherty disappeared for a while and returned in time to hear a splash in the water. It was Robertson. To the cries of “man overboard!” every bluejacket swung into action and “full speed astern” was relayed immediately to the engine room. Within four-and-a-half minutes the body of their much loved officer was rescued from the unforgiving waters of Bass Strait.

In the sick-bay room, Able-Seaman Norman Sangster used artificial resuscitation until the arrival of Able-Seaman George Randall, the sick berth steward from Parramatta. With the third boiler in action, at a rate of 25 knots, the Yarra made haste for a doctor with the Parramatta astern. Inside the Heads, signal flags fluttered from above the rigging calling for a doctor onboard the Courier to the ignorance of the distinguished guests. By 12:45pm, Drs James and Esler boarded the destroyer but it was all in vain. Robertson was a walking time bomb. With severe coronary artery disease and evidence of brain disease, he was liable to collapse at any time.

As the ships entered the Alfred Graving Dock in Williamstown a little after 3:15pm, several thousands of well-wishers oblivious to the events had gathered to welcome the arrival and hear the speeches. Amongst those in the crowd was Lily Robertson. In his speech, the acting Prime Minister, Billy Hughes echoed patriotic sentiments of the nation when he said;

“We, as a nation, realise that to achieve our destiny, to be left free to foster the arts of peace, we must be prepared for war. We must not shut our eyes, and be blind to the facts of life. We have to face the world as it was, to be ready to protect that which we held dear”.

With the passing of the Naval Defence Act on 25 November 1910 thus creating the Commonwealth Naval Force, the death of Lieutenant-Engineer William Robertson marked the first casualty of what was later renamed the Royal Australian Navy in October 1911. He was buried with full military honours on Monday 12 December 1910 (CofE*T*134).

“Thunder pealed in the afternoon while from the Brighton railway station was being carried the coffin containing the body…Then rain poured down heavily for a few seconds. Suddenly the rain ceased, and as the seamen from the Yarra lifted the coffin, draped with the Union Jack, on to the waiting gun-carriage, the sun broke through the clouds and shone on the hilt of the dead officer’s sword, which lay with his cocked hat on the coffin”.

At a slow march, the procession played ‘Dead March in Saul’ through the lines of people who gathered in Bay Street, where the music ceased, and thence at quickstep along Nepean Highway and Hawthorn Road towards the Brighton General Cemetery. Rev Lynch of St. Paul’s Caulfield read the burial service and a firing party of 50 rifles cracked three volleys in succession. While the bugle sounded the ‘Last Post’, each of the 260 bluejackets and hundreds of mourners stood motionless. It was a poignant scene that Robertson witnessed during service in the Boxer Uprising in 1900 when he wrote;

“I witnessed a quaint and picturesque sight this morning, although a very mournful one. A Captain…stationed here died, and a large number of all the Allied Forces…followed the remains to the grave. When the procession arrived and the funeral service commenced, it was snowing heavily – what a strange weird sight. With the exception of the clergyman’s voice, everything was as still as the unfortunate officer whose memory we were paying the last tribute of respect. A strange feeling came over me, and I almost wished for the time when men will turn their swords into ploughshares. But the time is not yet”.

Source: 
The Argus 12 December 1910 p7 & p8, 13 December 1910 p6.
The Herald 12 December 1910 p6.
Punch 19 September 1901 p340 & 15 December 1910 p901.
The Age 10 December 1910 p13, 12 December 1910 p6 & p7, 13 December 1910 p7.
Unknown Melbourne newspaper circa 27 May 1909.
War diary of WG Robertson 7 December 1900.
Inquest PROV VPRS 24/PO, Unit 860, 1910/1156.
Birth certificate of WG Robertson GRO March 1854 Volume 8b, Page 280.
Will of WG Robertson 24 May 1909.
Marriage certificate of WG Robertson & LL Locke 11 September 1901.
Corfield, J., “The Australian Illustrated Encyclopaedia of The Boxer Uprising 1899-1901” (2001) p221.
Jose, A., “The Official History of Australia in the War of 1914-1918”, Vol IX (1987) p lviii-lxii.
Research by Di Foster, Jenny Coates and Lois Comeadow.

On the eve of Anzac Day 1925, the city of Melbourne was preparing for a weekend of solemn remembrance still fresh was the memory of the Great War. It also happened to be payday for the six workers employed by George Arthur Marshall (1877-1925) of 106 Gore Street, Fitzroy one of ten children of William Marshall (d 1912) and Jane née Whitburne (d 1906). Marshall’s firm was subcontracted by “Cockram and Cooper” of Little Collins Street for lime washing and bagging on the construction of a five storied reinforced concrete building at 449 Swanston Street, Melbourne being built for the “British Australasian Tobacco Company Pty Ltd”; work had been progressing for the last six months and was due for completion at the end of July.

Around 4:20pm Marshall arrived with fresh supplies of lime for his men as well as their wages. William Oman of Oakleigh Crescent, Ormond was one of Marshall’s workers. While the others collected the lime, Oman was working near the lift well on the fourth floor facing à Beckett Street. Applying the first coat, only for it to go on yellow instead of white was yet another indication to Oman that the job was unlike any other he had experienced. Likewise fellow worker Reginald Forest Shaw of Little Cardigan Street, Carlton. That day he commenced lime washing the pillars on the fourth floor after the wooden formes used to hold the concrete in place were stripped. One of the pillars near the stairway was found to be vertically cracked on two sides requiring it to be bagged for a second time. Shaw would later describe the concrete on the fourth floor as “rotten” and noticed a “great difference” between the concrete on the first and second floors compared to the fourth. Even though they were impeded by the quality of the concrete that required a large amount of bagging to fill the cracks, the whitewashers had made good enough progress that only one more coat was required before moving to the next floor.

It was just before 4:35pm when Marshall began paying his men until Oman was next in line followed by John Reece of Rupert Street, Collingwood; in all there were between 18 and 20 workers on the fourth floor at the time. What happened next was so sudden, so devastating and incomprehensible that it caught all by surprise. Fate alone would be the arbiter of the outcome; the next few seconds would feel like hours. Percy Cole, builders’ labourer of Valentine Street, Thornbury working on the fifth floor above near the Swanston Street end heard a crack and saw the gantry move over and go back with a swing, the centre of the building collapse like a basin and the rear section fall outwards onto Stewart Street. On the fourth floor, Oman, standing inches away from Marshall collecting his pay was narrowly missed by a falling steel girder which unluckily struck his boss killing him instantly. He was buried to his armpits and struggled desperately for life and freedom shifting two concrete blocks; when freed he was still clutching a pound note. John Reece heard “a roar like thunder” and looking upwards saw the blue sky that had been the roof seconds before and made a scramble for the safety of the scaffolding on Swanston Street just as a second roar sounded and the whole fifth floor collapsed as did a portion of the fourth level as hundreds of tonnes of concrete fell under the tremendous weight.

The effect of the men rushing down the scaffolding and a massive cloud of white dust gave the appearance of a fire and the brigade was summonsed. Luckily most of the carpenters working on the crumbled fourth floor were at the Swanston Street end thus escaping the full brunt of the collapse. In no time a rescue party of some 40 eager volunteers of “tobacco workers, comrades and members of the public” led by John Murray immediately got to work in search of survivors in spite of the imminent danger of a further collapse and “they worked as only Australian workmen can when life is at stake”. Rushing up the staircase at speed to the waste of shattered concrete that was the fourth floor, the rescuers came across Marshall’s body and within minutes had extricated his brother-in-law, Edward Faulkiner of Oakleigh Crescent, Auburn who had been pinned down by fallen timbers sustaining severe spinal injuries. Reg Shaw had a truly miraculous escape. Completely buried but for one hand, with the aid of his rescuers he endeavoured frantically to clear his face and was near collapse just as he was saved; when extricated, his only worry was his wife and two kiddies (“they’ll send someone to tell the wife won’t they mister?”) and after being reassured “settled down with true Australian stoicism to face what the future had in store”. 

Another who had a lucky escape was A McBride of Messrs “Currie & Richards” of Stewart Street who was standing outside the factory about to light his pipe when he heard a noise like heavy hail and on looking up was showered with dust falling down. He stood back narrowly avoiding a terrific crash of huge pieces of scaffolding and concrete where he once stood moments before. The rescue party worked frantically searching for survivors recovering the bodies of Victor Leslie Ingham (1887-1925, Warringal Cemetery) and Edgar Thomas Lydiard (c1903-25) just after 6:00pm eventually suspending work when the fourth victim, Hugh Percival Archibald (1891-1925, Coburg Cemetery) of Yarra Street, South Melbourne was found at 9:40pm. Amongst the three lucky survivors was Marshall’s son George John Arthur (1905-25) who later succumbed to his injuries on 7 December that year and lies interred with his father.

It was inevitable that a searching coronial inquiry would be held into the causes of what was the first case of the collapse of a reinforced concrete building with the loss of life. Just what happened on that fateful day and who was to blame? Why did the building regulations fail to prevent the tragedy and was there adequate supervision by the building contractors? Not surprisingly, the nine day inquest before Coroner D Berriman PM was the second longest held in 20 years; over 50 witnesses, experts and officials were called involving some of the major legal firms of the day, including (Sir) Robert Gordon Menzies (Melbourne General Cemetery) of “Fink, Best and Miller” representing the “British Australasian Tobacco Company”. Opening on 16 June, the inquest was to hear a litany of contributing factors, amongst these were the weakening of the concrete by 40% due to excess water; critical design flaws and inadequate plans; and a lack of supervision and inspection from the city council building inspectors down to the clerk of works. Clarence Sexton, lecturer in civil engineering at Melbourne University concluded the causes of failure was due to:

• the omission of the main wall beam at the fourth floor level on the western side of the northern light area;
• the omission of steel from certain girders;
• weakness of concrete due to excess of water;
• lack of supervision adequate to ensure that all bars and sizes of members were effectively directed and passed as correct before concrete was poured; and
• the use of higher working stresses in the concrete than were justified in view of the methods of design and construction which were permitted in city buildings.

The coroner was to find the contractor Robert William Astley Cooper, clerk of works George Albert Royal and the architect Francis James Davies all guilty of criminal negligence. However after studying the evidence, the Crown Prosecutor, Hugh Macindoe (q.v.) found that there was no case to go to a jury and filed a nolle prosequi (not to proceed), but agreed with Berriman’s finding that the three “were jointly and severally” negligent in the supervision of the work.

A veteran of the Great War with the 22nd Battalion AIF (No 5125, enlisted 23 May 1916 returned 20 Jan 1919), in 1900 Marshall married Annie née Davies (Davis) and they had four children: Annie (1900-05), George (1905-25), Rosalind Wilkinson née Marshall (1908-79) and May (b 1913). Just when Marshall should have been remembering his mates killed in the war he was laid to rest at the Brighton General Cemetery on Monday 27 April (CofE*ZF*780).

Source: 
The Age 25, 27 April 1925, 18, 19, 20, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 30 June 1925, 14, 15, 18 September 1925.
The Argus 25, 27 April 1925, 8 December 1925, 1 May 1926.
The Herald 25 April 1925 & 29 June 1925.
AWM “Biographical Cards for the Official History 1914-18”, AWM140.