The northern territory police magazine $4 c tat

DECLINE AND FALL OF THE CREEK I

There was a time when every Journalist worth his salt made a point of writing at least one hair-raising story about the wild and woolly doings of Tennant Creek. To the scribblers it was Australia's " Wild West " town, and was played up accordingly. Historians of the future, trying to read between the lines, will find it even harder to read between the bottles, bullets and bull-dust. Yes, Sir! Men were really men, then, though too few women appreciated it (there were too few women).

But just take a look at this extract from the report of

a 1965 meeting of Tennant Creek citizens:—

" BICYCLES — The District Officer will discuss with the Police and the School Headmaster the matter of children riding their bicycles On the ,footpaths".

Life-Saving by Tracking

As a diversion from the technicalities of tracking, I would like to conclude this article with a reference to a tracking feat performed by Don Bununjoa shortly before I met him at Beswick. He was largely instrumental in saving the life of a white man, Gary Hall, who became lost in arid country around Western Creek, some three hundred miles south of Darwin. Hall became separated from a cattle mustering party and was missing for several days before the matter was reported to the Police. Efforts by his companions had failed to find any trace of him. It was in the middle of the Dry season — and in the middle of a dry area at best of times.

Eventually the Police were called to the area, and Tracker Don and other Aboriginals accompanied Sergeant Knight, and Constables Browning and Kain, in a search that lasted several days before Hall was found, barely alive, some fifteen days after his disappearanc^.e. He was without food for the whole time, and had no recollection of when he may have last had water. In desperation he had cut the throat of his horse, a couple of days before he was found, and had drunk some of its blood. Don located the tracks of Hall's horse eventually and the tracks were followed for a full day. The tracks led Don through a bushfire, over ground that had previously been burnt out, over rocky surfaces, grass and rough black-soil country. After the dead horse was found, Don followed the boot tracks of Hall until the party at last rescued him.

STOP EVERYTHING

The hot, dusty township of Tennant Creek and the chancy game of mining on which it survives combine to mould a population noted for great thirst, enthusiastic gambling and a casual view of the props of the more effete civilization elsewhere in the Commonwealth. Under the prevailing local influences, even the long anti of the law seems at times to get noticeably shorter, and the eyes half closed, till sonic brand new broom comes along (and takes a different kind of " dim" view).

Years ago one of our keen Sergeants struck Tennant on top of one of its waves of happy — er, prosperity? — and set about pricking the champagne bubbles with pieces of Ordinance. As a result, there was great lamentation amongst the populace and everywhere he moved he heard the constant moans: " Na twa-tip ", " No Sunday drinking ", " No grog at dances", " No Ins-a»d-Outs ", " No this", " No that", and so an and so on. In the midst of it all, he turned up late for Church one Sunday and had just started to walk down the aisle — with all heads religiously (?) turned to see who the latecomer might be — when tire Priest turned round to face the congregation to make the usual annonncements. Out came the ,first announcement, in a tone of sheer despair: " There'll be no Mass next Sunday!"



Joyce Richardson, new Principal of the South Australian Wooten Polite.