The Siege of Glenrowan (Part 1)

Few events in bushranging history have the fame of the Glenrowan Siege. The incredible and spectacular close to the career of the Kelly Gang has been immortalised in print, song, film, painting and more. Over time the events have become obscured by retellings that embellish and dramatise them. Here, on the 140th anniversary of the siege, we will take a concise look at what ended one of the most renowned and dramatic chapters in Australian history.

The Glenrowan Plot

There is no definitive understanding of what the Glenrowan plot actually was. Most of what we know has been taken from the witnesses accounts of being told by the outlaws, and Ned Kelly’s own unreliable narratives in his interviews and the letters he wrote in gaol. Anything else is either unsubstantiated oral history or inference. All we know for certain is that Ned Kelly intended to derail a train full of police and trackers at Glenrowan, and an event on a Saturday night at the hut of Aaron Sherritt – a sympathiser who the gang had reason to believe had been assisting police – was to provide a lure for a special police train. No civilian trains ran on a Sunday, so the only vehicle that would be on the tracks that day would be one specially assigned to move police from Benalla to Beechworth. This is all that we know beyond dispute. There are many various elaborations on this information that historians and researchers have put forward to describe Ned Kelly’s plan:

1) The Republic of North East Victoria

One explanation that was championed by some notable Kelly historians was that Ned Kelly was attempting to kick-start a revolution and establish a republic. Once the train was derailed, the survivors would be killed excepting any notable survivors who would be bartered for Ned’s mother’s release from prison. The Kelly Gang, in armour, would be joined by a “phantom army” of heavily armed sympathisers that were waiting in the hills behind the Glenrowan Inn, summoned by skyrockets acting as a signal. The militia would then ride to Benalla, capture the town, and declare a republic. It must be noted that there is no official contemporary record to indicate this was the plan or even rumoured, and none of the documents that were supposed to have proved the legitimacy of the claim have surfaced.

The Last Outlaw portrays the motivation for the Glenrowan plot as a desire to establish a “Republic of North-Eastern Victoria”.

2) Mass Murder

The least imaginative explanation of Ned’s plot is that he had no plans beyond murdering as many people as he could. This supposition relies on a very skewed perspective. It derives from the simplistic view that Ned Kelly was a psychopathic terrorist that was only interested in killing people, specifically police. Given Kelly’s two previous well-planned outings in Euroa and Jerilderie, during which no blood was spilled, it seems unlikely for straight up massacre to have been his next move. Given the efforts he had previously gone to in order to prove he was not bloodthirsty, this is not a consistent mindset. To accept this explanation does not require a deeper look into the behaviour and psychology of Ned Kelly or his gang, relegating them to be cast as cartoon villains.

True History of the Kelly Gang portrays Glenrowan as a plot to wipe out as many police as possible.

3) Escalation of a war with police

By looking at what has been definitively established, contemporary rumours, and Ned Kelly’s own statements such as the Cameron and Jerilderie letters and the letters he dictated in gaol, we can see that Ned Kelly saw himself as being in some kind of war with police, referring to them as his “natural enemies”. In light of this, it could be supposed that Kelly intended to disable the police in order to remove the threat of capture. Such a large scale attack would in turn potentially make the government wary of continuing to pursue the outlaws. Taking out the bulk of the police force that were stationed in Benalla, the regional headquarters, would leave the Benalla police station unmanned, whereupon the gang and sympathisers would be able to take control of the station as a headquarters for themselves and take control of the town. Ned intimated on occasion that he desired to rob the bank in Benalla, and it was well known that since the Jerilderie raid the gang had been looking desperately for a suitable target for a robbery around Beechworth or Yackandandah in particular. Such a plan is more in line with what the gang did when they bailed up the town of Jerilderie, using the police barracks as a base of operations. It also demonstrates a more extreme thought process, whereby Ned was willing to take out huge numbers of police in order to ensure a greater chance of success and to intimidate his remaining opponents into backing down. If this was his aim, it has echoes of the kind of guerrilla warfare carried out by the IRA and implies a far more militaristic mindset than on the gang’s previous two outings. Ned established that he felt that he was right in striking first, even with lethal force, in order to protect himself. By 1880 the pursuit had likely taken a physical and mental toll on him and made him desperate. It is also worth noting that Mrs. Byrne had been bragging the gang we’re going to do something to make all of Australia’s ears tingle.

Ned Kelly portrays the Glenrowan plot as an escalation of a war between the Kelly Gang and the British Empire.

There is room to speculate what the intention was at Sherritt’s hut. Ned Kelly would later claim he had not ordered Sherritt’s murder; that it must have been a decision made by the others. This seems to marry up with Ned’s claim at the time he was trying to break the train line that many police had been shot in Beechworth and he was expecting a train full of police and trackers in response. It was known that Aaron Sherritt had police staying in his hut with him. Later, Ned would suggest that the police must have tortured Aaron to make him complicit. It stands to reason that if Ned was intent on taking out a train load of police that he would also be inclined to take out a party of police that he suspected were stationed with his friend against his will.

Regardless of the exact plan, Glenrowan was picked as the location and Ettie Hart was sent to scope out the area and gauge the sympathies of Ann Jones who owned one of the two pubs in town, the other being the McDonnell’s Railway Tavern, which was run by known sympathisers. As Glenrowan had no telegraph station of its own it would be unlikely that news of the train line being damaged there would be able to get out in time to warn the police. Ned knew there was a chance, however, that he might need to take prisoners to prevent someone raising the alarm, thus it suited his purpose to have access to Ann Jones’s inn.

The Armour

The gang each had a home-made suit of iron armour to protect them from bullets. It is unclear what the initial idea behind the armour was, but based on Joe Byrne’s later comments it was Ned Kelly’s idea alone. Ned would at one time indicate they were meant to protect the gang from guards when robbing banks, but the unprotected legs and arms may have gone against this idea.

The gang in armour from Ned Kelly.

Some have speculated that the design of the armour was devised with the intention that the wearers would be shooting downwards from an embankment, thus eliminating the need for leg protection. This very specific application seems unlikely if there was to be any further use of the armour after the derailment. It may simply have been the case that armour thick enough to be bulletproof would simply have been too heavy if it also covered the arms and legs.

Ned Kelly’s armour

The notion of the armour is mysterious as there has never been a definitive primary source found that explains the genesis of the idea. It is known that the gang’s hideout on Bullock Creek had an armoured door, so it seems likely that Ned Kelly was aware of the usefulness of a bulletproof protection as far back as mid-1878. There have been scores of suggestions as to where the idea for the armour originated from the novel Lorna Doone to a suit of Japanese armour in the Burke Museum in Beechworth.

Replicas of Joe Byrne’s and Steve Hart’s armour in the Ned Kelly Vault, Beechworth

The armour covered the head, chest, back, thighs, and in Ned’s case his upper arms as well (he probably also had a plate to protect his buttocks that has long disappeared, but is featured in contemporary illustrations.) Joe and Dan also had iron plates that joined the body armour together to encase the torso like a cuirass. The helmets offered limited scope of vision and we’re supposed to have had quilted lining sewn inside to pad them. The iron was taken mostly from ploughs, the mouldboards being an appropriate shape and size to use. It also appears that some sheet metal was likely also used in some instances such as Steve Hart’s backplate. Rumours persist that the armour was either made by sympathetic blacksmiths or the gang themselves using a partly submerged green log as an anvil that would dull the sound of hammering. The quality of the smithing indicates that a blacksmith was probably involved at some point.

Murder of Sherritt

On the evening of 26 June, 1880, Anton Wick was walking along the road to El Dorado as night fell. He knew the way well enough as he had lived there a long time. As he was walking, he was passed by two riders leading a packhorse who ignored him before doubling back. One of the riders asked Wick if he recognised him, to which Wick replied that he didn’t. The rider revealed himself to be Joe Byrne and flashed his pistol. Wick was handcuffed by Dan Kelly, the other rider, and walked back up the road to the Devil’s Elbow where Aaron Sherritt lived in an old miner’s hut with his wife. The bushrangers hitched their horses and walked up to the hut. Joe Byrne took Anton Wick to the back door and Dan Kelly guarded the front door in case anyone tried to escape.

Byrne ordered Wick to call out to the occupants. Inside were Aaron Sherritt, his wife Belle as well as his mother-in-law and four policemen, who were in the bedroom preparing for the evening’s watch party at the Byrne selection. When Wick called for assistance it was Belle who asked who it was. “It’s Anton Wick; I’ve lost myself,” was the reply. Ellen Barry told Aaron to tell the old German where to go. Aaron opened the back door and said “Do you see that sapling?” before noticing movement by the chimney. Aaron asked, “Who’s there?” Suddenly Byrne pushed Wick aside and unloaded a barrel from his shotgun into Sherritt’s torso, followed by a second blast that tore Sherritt’s throat apart. Sherritt staggered back and hit the dirt floor without any utterance. Joe coldly stated “That’s the man I want.” He would also say, “The bastard will never put me away again.” As Belle wailed over her husband’s body, Dan Kelly was brought inside. For two hours the bushrangers attempted to flush the police out of the bedroom but the officers cowered inside, even trapping Belle under the bed, pinning her against the wall with their feet until she passed out and did the same with her mother. At one point Dan Kelly attempted to set fire to the house but the wood was too wet to catch and there was no available kerosene. Dan and Joe freed Wick and left at about 9:00pm. Inside, constables Duross, Dowling, Alexander and Armstrong remained, too petrified to see if the bushrangers had gone until after sunrise the following day. They were convinced the gang had surrounded the hut to trap them. It was unclear what the packhorse the bushrangers had with them was carrying. There is some reason to believe it was their armour, which they never wore during the affair.

This contemporary illustration shows a view of the outside of Sherritt’s hut and a floorplan.

Meanwhile in Glenrowan

Ned Kelly and Steve Hart arrived in Glenrowan around the same time Dan and Joe left El Dorado. They put their horses in the paddock of McDonnell’s tavern and took tools to try and take up the railway track. They went a short distance down the line to where the track curved on an embankment and attempted to break it. In the event that a train did not stop before hitting a broken line at this spot it would have resulted in catastrophe, but they had the wrong tools and were unsuccessful in their sabotage. Already things were not going to plan, but Ned Kelly was resourceful.

Realising that they were out of their depth, the bushrangers went to a row of tents pitched between the train station and Ann Jones’ inn. Thinking these were railway workers, they awoke them one by one with the intention of making them damage the tracks for them. Ned interrupted the foreman Alfonso Piazzi attending to “country matters” and a scuffle ensued. Piazzi pulled a gun on Ned but the bushranger knocked it aside with his carbine causing it to go off. Fortunately nobody was injured, but soon all the men, and the woman Piazzi had in his tent, were rounded up and ordered to break the line. It was then explained to the outlaws that they were not able to do as asked as they were not railway workers, they were labourers who had been working with the gravel along the line and knew nothing about the tracks. Ned was then informed that he would need the stationmaster. He proceeded to take the men with him to the gatehouse where John Stanistreet, the stationmaster, resided.

The labourers’ tents with the Glenrowan Inn visible behind.

Stanistreet and Jones

John Stanistreet and his wife were roused by knocking at the door, which was not uncommon as they had frequently been pestered by people travelling late at night requesting that the railway gates be opened so they could pass through (a substantial amount of whom were Kelly sympathisers.) However, before the door could be answered, Ned Kelly burst in and held the couple at gunpoint, demanding Stanistreet come with him. When Ned ordered Stanistreet to instruct the gravel collectors on how to disassemble the track, Stanistreet informed him that he had no understanding of how to do that himself and that it was the plate-layers that would know what to do. Ned’s patience was wearing incredibly thin and he took Stanistreet with him to the Glenrowan Inn which was not much more than a few metres away. Steve Hart was left to guard the labourers.

Ann Jones and her daughter Jane, who were sharing a bed, were woken up by Ned knocking at the door. When Ann answered, John Stanistreet and Ned Kelly were there waiting. Ned ordered Ann to accompany him to the gatehouse but before they left Ned watched Ann and Jane get dressed to make sure there was no funny business. He then took the keys and locked the door to the bedroom where Ann’s sons were sleeping. Ann and Jane were taken to the gatehouse and added to the growing number of prisoners. Ned left Steve in charge while he went to look for the plate-layers.

Bailing up the plate-layers

Ned walked down the line and bailed up a plate-layer named Sullivan, then as he was crossing the tracks they met James Reardon. Reardon had been roused by his dog barking and asked what Sullivan was doing out at such an hour, whereupon he was told that Ned Kelly had bailed him up. Ned appeared and pushed the muzzle of his pistol into Reardon’s cheek and demanded to know who he was. When Reardon confirmed he was a plate-layer, Ned stated that there had been a conflict near Beechworth and many police were killed. He explained that he was expecting a train full of police to come in response and that the plate-layers would help him dismantle the track to wreck the train. They were marched back to the gatehouse.

When Ned returned, the gravel collectors and Stanistreet were waiting with Steve Hart. Reardon announced that his tools were at home. Ned sent Steve to get the men to fetch tools from the shed while he went back with Reardon. After much hassle a length of the rail was displaced. The half hour job had taken two hours. With this, the group retired to the gatehouse for refreshments.

The sabotaged track.

At around 5:00am, Joe Byrne and Dan Kelly arrived in Glenrowan, left their horses at McDonnell’s and went to the gatehouse to meet Ned. It is unclear if they expressed any details to him about what had transpired in El Dorado the previous night.

At breakfast time, Ann Jones suggested sending Jane across to stoke the fires and begin preparing meals. She also suggested Ned could have a wash up there. Ned sent Joe Byrne across to the inn with Jane to keep an eye on her. The fires were stoked and Jane checked on her brothers. Soon the male prisoners were brought across to the inn and the women and children were left at the gatehouse under Steve’s watch, excepting the Joneses who remained at the inn to serve the food and drinks.

The police in Aaron’s hut

When the police felt safe to leave the bedroom it was already morning. They asked Ellen Barry for a drink. She told them that there was water on the table. Belle tossed the water out saying it may have been poisoned and was then told by the men to go outside and fetch water. The first attempt by the police to get help failed when the local schoolteacher they asked told them his wife wouldn’t let him go. The next attempt was when a Chinese man was stopped and paid to take a note to Beechworth police station. The Chinese man soon returned saying he couldn’t take the note as it was too far. He kept the money.

Stuck for options, the police asked Aaron’s neighbour to send word but although the neighbour said he would do it when he made a trip into town the police did not trust him to follow through. Frustrated, Constable Armstrong commandeered a horse and rode to Beechworth. It was midday when he arrived to tell Detective Ward the news. Once the information reached Ward he sent telegrams to inform his colleagues.

More prisoners

As Sunday rolled on the gang continued to add to the number of prisoners. The longer the wait, the more difficult it was proving to be to stop people from noticing what the gang was up to. Male captives in the Glenrowan Inn occupied themselves with card games such as cribbage and bought drinks. Ann Jones would comment to Ned Kelly that she would be glad if he came every weekend given how much business he had drummed up for her. Steve Hart continued to guard the women and children in the gatehouse but grew increasingly laissez-faire, drinking heavily and even napping on a sofa with two revolvers resting on his chest. Mrs. Stanistreet would note that despite how much he had to drink, he managed to retain an admirable level of sobriety and self control. At one point Dan Kelly burst into the gatehouse in search of a bag. It was unclear why he was so desperate to find it.

Berating Delaney

Around mid-morning, three boys, the Delaney brothers, went out with the intention of going kangaroo hunting with their greyhound. They went looking for Michael Reardon to accompany them. Unable to find anyone at the Reardon house they continued to walk down the line. As they reached the crossing they were bailed up by Ned Kelly, who was riding Joe’s grey mare. He escorted them back to the gatehouse but when he recognised 15 year-old Jack Delaney as a youth that had helped police some months earlier, he became apoplectic. Kelly ranted and abused the boy, accusing him of trying to sell him out to the police. Delaney was trembling so violently with fear that he shattered a clay pipe he was borrowing. Ned went so far as to thrust a pistol into Delaney’s hand, suggesting he shoot him right there if he was so keen on helping the police. Within moments, Joe Byrne emerged from the gatehouse and intervened, telling Ned to go away and cool off. Such an incredible outburst showed how the stress of his plan falling apart, combined with alcohol consumption and a lack of sleep, was causing him to act irrationally.

As the drama with the Delaney boys was unfolding, Thomas Curnow was driving his buggy, accompanied by his wife and baby, his sister and his brother-in-law. As they reached the railway crossing, they were flagged down by Stanistreet who warned them Ned Kelly had bailed everyone up. A moment later, Kelly appeared and confirmed this. He sent the women into the gatehouse and Curnow parked his buggy at the I before he and his brother-in-law joined the other male prisoners inside.

The Glenrowan Games

In the afternoon, the outlaws became aware of the growing restlessness of their prisoners. Ned initiated a series of sporting games, even participating in hop-step-jump while holding a revolver in each hand. After the sports, Dan Kelly suggested a dance and the bar was cleared out to allow space for the activity. Dave Mortimer played concertina and Dan asked Thomas Curnow to join him. Curnow insisted he needed to fetch his dancing shoes and asked to go home and fetch them. Ned considered the request until he was informed that in order to get to Curnow’s house it required passing the police station. Ned immediately refused the request and Curnow begrudgingly accepted this outcome. He had spent the preceding hours gathering information about Ned’s plan and was determined to stop the police train from derailing. His first attempt may have failed, but he continued to scheme.

Telegrams

Superintendent Hare received word that there was a telegram waiting for him at 2:30pm. He immediately went to the Benalla Telegraph Office where he was informed by a telegram from Captain Standish of Sherritt’s murder. A request was sent to Captain Standish to arrange for Sub-Inspector O’Connor and his native police, who were about to return home to Queensland, to come back to Beechworth for a fresh pursuit. Hare was joined by Superintendent Sadleir and they began to formulate a plan to pursue the outlaws from El Dorado as soon as possible.

Sunday afternoon

After buttering Ned up, Curnow received consent to visit his pregnant wife at the gatehouse. Here he attempted to curry favour with Steve Hart by helping him remove his boots and soaking his sore feet in warm water. He later informed Ned that Stanistreet kept a loaded revolver in his office, which Ned ordered Steve to confiscate. Curnow hoped that this would bring Ned to trust him, then once trust was established he would be able to seek permission to leave.

Special train organised

It wasn’t until the evening that Standish was able to arrange for O’Connor and his trackers to return to active duty for the Victorian police. He then organised a special train to leave Spencer Street that night, consisting of a locomotive, guard van and first class carriage. Just as Ned had asserted, this was not to be a civilian train but a conveyance specifically to get O’Connor and his team to Benalla and then the entire police search party to Beechworth from there.

Spencer Street railway station in 1880

Once O’Connor confirmed his involvement, it was agreed that he and his trackers (Hero, Jacky, Barney, Johnny, and Jimmy) would board the special train at Essendon station that night. His wife and sister-in-law decided they would accompany him to Beechworth and packed for a holiday up north.

Another dance

Late in the evening another dance was held, with Dave Mortimer calling the sets and playing concertina. Those who weren’t dancing were mostly indoors playing cards or drinking. At this time Jane Jones was observed sitting on Dan Kelly’s knee and kissing him. Ned spent considerable time outside talking with Ann Jones who seemed to be going out of her way to accommodate him. As the dancing died down, Ann Jones was also seen flirting with Joe Byrne, attempting to pull Scanlan’s ring off his finger while he played with her hair. Johnny Jones sang for the crowd, performing “Cailin deas cruitha na mo” (The Pretty Girl Milking a Cow) and then performing “Farewell to Greta” for Ned Kelly with the promise of a sixpence from his mother if he did so.

Thomas Carrington’s depiction of the dance. Ned Kelly has his coat draped over his shoulders with his arms folded and wears his quilted skull cap.

Bailing up Bracken

At 9pm Ned and Joe put on their armour and gathered a group of prisoners to escort them to the police barracks, where they could capture Constable Bracken. Curnow convinced Ned to take Dave Mortimer to lure Bracken out, while also gaining permission to take his family home from the barracks. Bracken was the only policeman in the town, having been stationed there to keep an eye on Kelly sympathisers for Superintendent Hare. At the barracks the group roused Bracken, who had been in bed with gastro. Ned bailed him up, but as Ned was dressed in his full armour Bracken thought it was a prank. He was made to mount up but Joe kept a close eye on him to ensure he didn’t escape.

With Bracken captured, Ned allowed Curnow to leave, warning him not to dream too loud. When the Curnows arrived home, Thomas informed them of his plan to stop the train before it reached Glenrowan. His wife feared that if the bushrangers discovered he had stopped the train they would murder the whole family.

Thomas Curnow

Word sent to journalists

As the special train was being prepared, journalists from multiple publications were requested to ride to Beechworth in the train so they could report first-hand on the work the police were doing to catch the Kelly Gang. The police had been regularly criticised in the press for their apparent ineptitude for catching bushrangers since the Euroa raid in December 1878, and the government seemed keen to get good press for their officers of the law as a fresh lead had presented itself. John McWhirter, Joe Melvin, Thomas Carrington and George Allen were all sent to join the train, which left Melbourne at 10pm. Apart from rumours of a murder, there was no indication for the reporters of what was unfolding in Kelly Country, but they were soon to find themselves in a journalist’s dream and recording history unfolding right before their very eyes.

Continued in part two…

The Gilbert-Hall Gang: An Overview

Beyond the Kelly Gang, only one other bushranging gang has truly cemented its place in the culture of Australia so firmly to become synonymous with bushranging. The early 1860s belonged to a rotating roster of brigands that operated mostly on the Lachlan Plains and came to be known popularly (for reasons that will become apparent) under the name of Ben Hall, though the contemporary press preferred to take their nomenclature for the gang from it’s most prominent figure, Johnny Gilbert. They were said to have committed hundreds of crimes ranging from robbery to murder. The following is not a detailed account of their career as the sheer scale of their depredations makes for heavy reading, but rather it is a summary of the career of the most legendary bushranging gang of the 1860s.

The origins of the Hall Gang are quite ephemeral. There was no definitive incident that forged the gang as it would come to be known, rather it evolved from the vestiges of other gangs. The one element that brought the key players together was the Prince of Tobymen, Frank Gardiner. Gardiner had been on the run after violating his ticket of leave, and after having worked the roads with companions such as The Three Jacks and John Peisley, he decided to set his sights on a bigger score than what mail coaches could yield. Gardiner wanted to have a crack at the escorts taking the gold from the diggings. He soon realised to do so he would need a lot more men to help him out. So in 1861 Gardiner began forming a gang to help him rob the Orange gold escort. This would become a defining moment for the core members of what would eventually become the Gilbert-Hall Gang.

The gang Gardiner had formed consisted of Johnny Gilbert, the flash Canadian who had been his off-sider on and off during his time in the bush; John O’Meally, a volatile Australian-born who had proven to be a reliable and enthusiastic underling; Charlie Gilbert; Henry Manns; Alex Fordyce; John Bow; and Patsy Daley. These men were to be the shock troops who would attack the escort but Gardiner needed more assistance. To hold the horses and scout he had Jack “The Warrigal” Walsh, the teenage brother of his lover, Kitty Brown. It was also rumoured that among those helping to look after the horses was a young stockman named Ben Hall and his brother-in-law John Maguire, who had turned to crime as a way of getting easy money to counter the hardships of farming life.

Ben Hall in more lawful times.

On 15 June, 1862, the Gardiner gang bailed up two bullock teams near Eugowra Rocks. They tied up the teamsters and left the drays on the road to act as a blockade. The bushrangers were disguised with their faces masked or blackened. When the wagon came up the road from the Lachlan diggings, it was forced to stop because of the blockage. As it did, Gardiner emerged and the gang opened fire and riddled the coach with bullets, injuring two of the police. Sergeant Condell was shot in the ribs, while Constable Moran was shot in the testicles. The horses were spooked and bolted, causing the wagon to strike a boulder and topple, flinging the driver and police across the road. Once the victims had escaped, the gang descended upon the wreckage and picked it clean, stealing around £6000 worth of gold and cash.

The booty was split among the bushrangers but the celebrations were short-lived as police led by Sir Frederick Pottinger soon found the gang’s hideout. Their sudden arrival forced the bushrangers to split up. Gardiner and Walsh narrowly avoided capture, but lost their share of the gold when their over-burdened packhorse was seized. The bushrangers tried to hide their booty and keep quiet but the police were quick to make arrests. Charlie Gilbert and Henry Manns were captured by Pottinger but rescued by Johnny Gilbert and Frank Gardiner. Manns set off alone and was soon recaptured. Bow and Fordyce were arrested as were Ben Hall, John Maguire and Daniel Charters, an associate of theirs. The Gilbert brothers successfully managed to escape to New Zealand to lie low. Gardiner took Kitty Brown with him and escaped New South Wales, eventually being arrested at Apis Creek in Queensland.

When Johnny Gilbert returned from abroad he started bushranging with a number of off-siders including Fred Lowry. As each of them left, John O’Meally was the only one who remained. The pair did not exactly like each other but it was a marriage of convenience that allowed them both to enjoy the lawless adventure they craved.

When Hall got out of remand he had a chip on his shoulder. He promptly found his way to Johnny Gilbert and John O’Meally and joined them in bushranging. The trio hit the highways with considerable success. Nobody was safe and the police could not catch up to them. Eventually they decided that they needed extra help as their operation became more prolific.

In 1863, the gang recruited John Vane to source horses for them. Vane and his cousin Mickey Burke acted as scouts for the gang but soon managed to become fully fledged members. Vane was a tall, quiet young man who was a fearless rider and a skilled bushman but not as ruthless as the others. Burke was young and feisty; itching to go on the adventure of bushranging but not keen to use violence willingly. This latter quality seemed to make him a target for bullying.

In late September, 1863, the gang began a spree of lawlessness that caused a stir throughout the colony. On 22 September they bailed up three troopers and stole their weapons and uniforms. The next day, the gang bailed up Hosie’s store dressed as police. The gang took supplies and stole all of Hosie’s sweets. It was not the first time the gang had robbed him.

On 26 September they raided John Loudon’s house at Grubbenbong dressed in their stolen police uniforms. They went through the building in search of police they believed were staying there. The search turned up nothing but the gang bragged that if any troopers came after them, they would handcuff them and march them back to Carcoar. They forced Loudon’s wife to prepare food for them. Once they were satisfied, the gang left.

The following day the bushrangers, still in their stolen uniforms, went to William Rothery’s Cliefden Station at Limestone Creek, where they engaged in a standoff with Rothery’s staff. Rothery ordered his men to stand down and the bushrangers bailed up the household, ate lunch, drank champagne then played piano. As with their visit to Grubbenbong, they left quietly after having their fill. They moved on to the township of Canowindra. They robbed Pierce’s store then quietly rounded up the townsfolk, including the local constable, into Robinson’s pub and held an impromptu party. The party continued into the morning and the gang left without fear of police intervention.

The success of the Canowindra raid bolstered the gang’s confidence and they set their sights on Bathurst, one of the biggest cities in colonial New South Wales. With John Vane on watch, the gang entered town at dusk on 3 October, 1863. They went to the gunsmith and looked at what he had in stock but could not find anything to their liking. They attempted to rob the jeweller but the screams of female onlookers roused attention. Suddenly Vane called out to signal the arrival of troopers. They mounted and bolted through the streets, escaping without a scratch. They took refuge in the house of a man named De Clouet, from whom they intended to steal a racehorse named Pasha, but the horse was not there. The gang were able to leave town without further incident after the search had been called off.

The gang decided to stick to what they were good at and once again headed to Canowindra. Again the townsfolk were rounded up into the pub and festivities took place. In the morning Mickey Burke proved difficult to rouse, his drinking having been rather excessive, but even though they were delayed in leaving, there was no sign of the police until long after the gang had left.

The reward for the gang was sitting at £4000 and things were becoming serious as police drew heavy criticism from the press over their inability to stop the bandits. On 24 October, 1864, they headed to the Keightley farm on Dunn’s Plains on a vendetta to take the flashness out of gold commissioner Henry Keightley. Keightley had bragged about his part in helping the police hunt the gang and his readiness to shoot them down. The bushrangers arrived at sunset whereupon they were spotted by Keightley and his friend Dr. Pechey. The bushrangers dismounted and opened fire as the men sheltered inside. There was a vicious shootout during which Mickey Burke was shot in the belly. Keightley and Pechey took refuge in a barricade that had been made on the roof but were low on weapons and ammunition. Burke refused to allow his wounding to lead him to be captured and he determined to take his own life. He shot himself in the head but only succeeded in further wounding himself. He shot himself in the head again, finally succeeding in committing suicide. John Vane was grief stricken and when Keightley and Pechey were captured he bashed Pechey with his pistol, mistaking him for Keightley, and was fully prepared to execute them in retaliation. Mrs. Keightley intervened and convinced them to hold her husband to ransom instead of murdering him. Dr. Pechey rode into town and fetched £500 – the equivalent of the reward money offered for Burke – from Mrs. Keightley’s father and returned to the farm. The bushrangers entrusted Keightley’s servants to convey Burke’s corpse to Carcoar then left.

In the wake of the tragedy tensions were high and Vane left after a fight with Gilbert. He turned himself in and was imprisoned at Darlinghurst Gaol. Once again the gang was a trio, but they were determined not to lose face. They continued to rob travellers at an alarming rate and soon heard about a magistrate named David Campbell who had been talking about his eagerness to capture the bushrangers.

On 19 November, 1863, the gang rode to Goimbla Station, where the Campbells resided. They spread out to find a way inside. O’Meally went to the back door where he was met by Campbell. O’Meally discharged his shotgun and narrowly missed Campbell’s head. O’Meally ran to the front of the house, chased by Campbell who doubled back when he saw the others. The bushrangers began firing into the house. Campbell took cover by the kitchen and his wife, Amelia, ran under fire to fetch ammunition and weapons from the drawing room. Campbell’s brother had been roused by the firing and was shot and wounded. He ran and hid in a crop field until there was a safe moment to get help. The bushrangers took cover behind a fence and O’Meally set fire to the barn. Campbell called out for the bushrangers to set his horses free but they refused out of spite and the animals were burned alive. As O’Meally stood to admire his handiwork, Campbell shot him in the neck. Hall and Gilbert dragged him to the bush on the edge of the property and propped his head up but the wound was fatal. When O’Meally died they looted his body and evacuated, leaving the grisly find for the Campbells to deal with.

Hall and Gilbert slowed down after Goimbla but found two new recruits very quickly. James “Old Man” Gordon and John Dunleavy were inducted into the gang and soon they were up to the same old tricks. The new outfit was put through the ringer when they were ambushed at the Bang Bang Hotel and engaged in a shootout with police. The bushrangers narrowly escaped but it clearly rattled Gilbert who left the gang to return to Victoria for a spell.

Hall continued on with Gordon and Dunleavy but they were hardly alike the outfit Hall was used to. During a shootout in the bush at Bundaburra, Dunleavy was injured. He surrendered himself and was soon tried and sent to Darlinghurst Gaol. Hall and Gordon continued together briefly before Gordon also split and was arrested near the Victorian border. He too was imprisoned.

Hall now faced the daunting prospect of bushranging solo. He kept a low profile, preferring to avoid confronting police or making his presence known. From time to time police would stumble upon where he had been sleeping and he would barely escape, but the lifestyle was beginning to impact on his health. Fortunately for Hall he was soon reunited with Gilbert.

Ben Hall was just as eager to recapture the glory days as Gilbert, but they knew that they needed at least one extra set of hands. Gilbert recruited John Dunn, a teenaged jockey and Gilbert’s former bush telegraph. Dunn was wanted for skipping bail and saw bushranging as a viable alternative to honest work or gaol.

John Dunn

The trio hit the roads and bailed up as many people as possible, their exploits reaching new heights of audacity with each event. At the end of 1864 the gang went to work at Black Springs near Jugiong. They bailed up scores of people travelling the road, robbed them and kept them prisoner behind a large hill while they awaited their true goal: the mail coach. The coach arrived as expected and the bandits bailed it up, but when Ben Hall spotted the police escort catching up the trio galloped away and doubled back once they had sized up the threat. All three demonstrated their incredible horse riding abilities by steering the horses with their legs while double-wielding pistols. The gun battle was frenetic and vicious. Sergeant Edmund Parry became locked in one-on-one combat with Johnny Gilbert. They exchanged fire and a bullet from Gilbert hit Parry in the back, killing him.

A dangerous precedent had now been set and the gang had become elevated from audacious highwaymen to murderers. Undeterred, the gang continued to go about their depredations. At Christmas the bushrangers visited their girlfriends, Christina MacKinnon and Peggy and Ellen Monks, and decided to have some fun at the Boxing Day ball in Binda. They bailed up a former policeman named Morriss and robbed his store before heading to the Flag Hotel. They sang, danced and drank with the patrons while Morriss plotted to take the wind out of their sails. As the night wound on Morriss managed to escape through a window and tried to set the gang’s horses loose. When Hall discovered Morriss missing, he tried to find him outside. In an act of vengeance the bushrangers and their girlfriends burned down Morriss’ store. The women were arrested for their role in the arson but not convicted.

On 26 January, 1865, the gang bailed up several travellers on the road near Collector before heading to Kimberley’s Inn. The occupants were marched outside and robbed while Hall and Gilbert raided the interior. As the local police were in the bush looking for the gang there was only one constable in town – Samuel Nelson. Nelson heard that the inn had been bailed up and set out on foot to confront the bushrangers. When he arrived there was a brief standoff between himself and John Dunn before Dunn shot him in the stomach and head, killing him.

The raid of Kimberly’s Inn as portrayed in The Legend of Ben Hall.

In response to the murders and countless other offences committed by bushrangers in the colony, the New South Wales government passed a legislation called the Felons Apprehension Act. This would render any person declared an outlaw to lose all protections of the law, and anyone could kill them without provocation and with no fear of punishment. It literally rendered the proclaimed outlaws as exempt from human society and encouraged people to treat them as vermin. The act allowed the wanted people 30 days to turn themselves over to police before being officially declared outlaws.

Things became very treacherous for the gang. Several ambushes occured where the gang narrowly escaped alive. The decision was made to do one last heist and get out of the colony before they were officially outlawed. They recruited John Dunn’s mate Daniel Ryan to help strike at a gold escort. The gang lay in wait on a stretch of road in the bush at Araluen and when the gold escort arrived they opened fire. The heist was a poor imitation of what Gardiner had masterminded and the end result was that the gold remained untouched and the gang was forced to retreat. Daniel Ryan would carry out several other robberies with the gang before disappearing from the line-up.

Back down to a trio, the gang attempted to rob a wagon full of teenage boys – the Faithful brothers. What the gang did not anticipate was that the brothers, who had been out hunting, would resist with firearms. A gunfight broke out wherein Gilbert accidentally shot his own horse and was trapped under it. The brothers succeeded in getting to safety, leaving the gang to lick their wounds.

The Faithful brothers

The gang decided the time had come to call it quits. Ben Hall took care of some business around Forbes before heading to a rendezvous with the others at Billabong Creek. Unfortunately Gilbert and Dunn had seemingly gotten spooked by teamsters they mistook for plainclothes officers and Hall decided to set up camp near the home of police informant Mick Coneley. On 5 May, 1865, Hall was ambushed as he fed his horse. He ran to escape but was shot over and over until, as he held a sapling, he died from around 30 bullet wounds, two passing through his brain. Coneley would earn £500 for selling Hall out.

The death of Ben Hall from a contemporary illustration.

Gilbert and Dunn continued to run from place to place before seeking shelter at Dunn’s grandfather John Kelly’s place near Binalong. In the wake of Hall’s death they had learned not to trust harbourers, especially as the date to turn themselves in by was rapidly approaching. Unfortunately the belief that Dunn’s family was a safe bet was another poor judgment and Kelly sold them out as well. A team of police surrounded the house and the bushrangers were forced to escape through a window. As they ran Gilbert was shot through the heart and killed. Dunn sustained a leg injury but managed to escape.

Death of Gilbert

Dunn by virtue of being the only survivor of the gang at large became the first person to be declared an outlaw in New South Wales. Rumours abounded that he had joined up with Captain Thunderbolt, but in fact he had gone into hiding on a farm under an assumed identity. He was soon discovered, however, and once again tried to escape. He shot a trooper in the leg but was himself shot in the back, the bullet lodging in his spine. He fought off the police as much as he could but the pain was too intense and he was captured.

He was taken to the lock-up in Dubbo but managed to escape despite his crippling injuries by climbing out of a window. He crawled along the ground, unable to walk from his wound, but was soon recaptured. He was tried for the murder of Constable Nelson and sentenced to death. He was hanged in Darlinghurst in January 1866. With Dunn’s death the Gilbert-Hall Gang had finally been snuffed out for good.

Even in their own lifetimes, the bushrangers who formed the roster in the gang were something akin to celebrities. They developed a reputation as daring highwaymen and folk heroes that robbed from the rich but would never molest a needy person or woman. The truth was far from this lofty ideal and the gang had its fair share of indiscriminate robberies to their name. It has been estimated by some that the gang committed hundreds of crimes in their short career. Indeed, the number of bail ups attributed to them is probably far and away the largest of any organised gang of bandits in Australian history. It was the inefficiency of the police that helped seal their reputation and turned this band of robbers into glorious rebels, rather than incorrigible ne’er-do-wells. What pushed them into this life of crime is hard to pinpoint as most members of the gang came from respectable backgrounds. Perhaps the allure of reaping the benefits of the gold rush without having to engage in the back breaking labour was just too big a temptation to refuse.

Joe Byrne: An Overview

Joseph Byrne was the eldest son of Patrick (Paddy) and Margret Byrne (nee White). Paddy was the son of an ex-convict from County Carlow, his mother was from County Clare and had travelled to Australia due to the Great Famine. Joe was born in the Woolshed Valley in 1856, though there is no known birth certificate, nor is there a baptism record to verify the date. He was soon joined by John in 1858, Catherine (“Kate”) in 1860, Patrick jnr (“Paddy” or “Patsy”) in 1862 , Mary in 1864, Dennis (“Denny”) in 1866, Margaret in 1869 and Ellen (“Elly”) in 1871.

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All of the Byrne children went to school and church in the Woolshed Valley. Joe was a good student and demonstrated early signs of the gift for language that would become a major part of his persona. He was at one time, according to the recollections of a former classmate, dux of his school, but academic excellence was irrelevant to the lifestyle thrust upon the Byrne children. The small Byrne selection was a functional dairy and the cows didn’t milk themselves. It was a case of all hands on deck where farm life was concerned.

Joe was always considered to be quiet and unassuming by most that encountered him. As he got older he would become more outgoing, largely thanks to the influence of his closest friend, Aaron Sherritt. It is unclear when and how Joe and Aaron met. The Sherritts were an Irish protestant family from El Dorado and moved in different circles to the Byrnes. Regardless of the nature of their meeting, the two became such firm friends that Aaron managed to get himself transferred to the Woolshed School so he could spend time with Joe while still getting a basic education. Aaron was far more outgoing and seemed to get himself into mischief regularly. This would prove to be a defining aspect of the relationship between the pair.

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Earliest known portrait of Joe Byrne

When Joe’s father Paddy died of a heart attack, Joe was expected to take on the mantle of head of the household. It fell on Joe to earn some money, so, as a fifteen year-old, he took up work doing odd jobs for the Chinese in Sebastopol. It was during this time that he witnessed a man named Ah Suey strung up outside a shop screaming for help. Days later Ah Suey was found murdered due to debts he owed to Chinese mobsters. Joe was a witness in the trial of the two Chinese men charged with the murder but gave very little information, possibly due to fear of a reprisal as the accused were apparently members of the Triad, a Chinese crime syndicate with branches all over the world. This would not be the only time Joe would end up in court thanks to his association with the Chinese. Joe spent much of his youth around the Chinese and learned Cantonese by ear. He indulged in the food and other cultural aspects such as gambling and opium smoking.

For a brief time, Margret Byrne attempted to court their German neighbour Anton Wick, who they referred to as Antonio. Joe seems to have disliked Wick, who was known for being something of a drunk and a brawler. Joe defiantly stole a horse from Wick and even flaunted his act by showing off his riding at Wick’s selection on the stolen horse. Wick took Byrne to court but the case was dismissed. No doubt this rebellious act did nothing to improve the already strained relationship Joe had with his mother.

As Joe and Aaron got older they became so intertwined in each other’s lives that Aaron became unofficially engaged to Joe’s sister Kate and Joe was in a long term relationship with Aaron’s sister Bessie and expected to be engaged. For whatever reason, Joe seems to have been reluctant to commit to Bessie, a dressmaker, but people would report on their relationship well into future events. The pair tended to get up to greater and greater mischief, eventually engaging in stock theft together. This brought the pair in frequent contact with two Beechworth-based policemen, Detective Michael Ward and Constable Patrick Mullane. The first recorded incident of Aaron and Joe getting into trouble with the law was in May 1876 when they stole the pet cow from the El Dorado school common. The pair butchered the unfortunate animal and divvied up the carcass between their families. The evidence against them was overwhelming and Joe and Aaron were both sent to Beechworth Gaol for six months. Joe appears to have been well behaved in prison and gained his release on 6 November, 1876. This was to be the only time that Joe would be convicted.

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Joe and Aaron steal the El Dorado school cow.

The pair had barely gotten readjusted to life on the outside when they were charged with assaulting a Chinese man named Ah On in February 1877. Joe and Aaron had been skinny dipping in the dam where Ah On got his water and a disagreement arose during which the Chinese man chased them with a bamboo rod and Aaron threw a large rock that cracked Ah On’s skull. They were arrested and held in Beechworth to await trial.

It is likely that it was in the holding cells of Beechworth while awaiting their day in court, that Joe and Aaron met 16 year-old Dan Kelly who was waiting for his own appearance on a charge of stealing a saddle. Despite the evidence being fairly conclusive against the pair, Joe and Aaron were let off. No doubt Joe was counting his lucky stars, but it wasn’t enough to convince him to walk the straight and narrow.

In late 1877 and early 1878, Joe and Aaron joined a horse stealing gang with Dan’s big brother Ned. Under the alias ‘Billy King’, Joe helped Ned, his stepfather George King, Aaron Sherritt and an array of others that came and went, to steal horses from wealthy squatters and perform an elaborate ruse to sell them over the border. Ned would ride into town with the stock, joined shortly after by Joe. Then Ned would “sell” Joe the horses, complete with bill of sale and Joe would sell the horses on. This way everything seemed legitimate and above board to witnesses who had never met the men before. Ned Kelly claimed they stole more than 250 animals and they were never caught (although some of the men who bought the stock from them ended up in gaol). What caused the lucrative operation to be stopped is a mystery, but likely it had something to do with Ned feeling like he had taught the squatters he was taking a swipe at a lesson.

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Portrait of Joe Byrne from Francis Hare’s ‘The Last of the Bushrangers’.

In April 1878, Ned and Dan Kelly took to the bush after an incident at the Kelly homestead where Constable Alexander Fitzpatrick was shot in the wrist while trying to arrest Dan. Some historians have speculated that the Kellys’ brother-in-law William Skillion was misidentified by Fitzpatrick who had actually seen Joe, despite Skillion being shorter, heavier and older than Joe with no comparable facial features. At any rate, the Kelly brothers were joined by Joe and Dan’s mate Steve Hart at Dan’s hut on Bullock Creek. The Kelly brothers were attempting to raise money for their mother’s court appearance by mining for gold and distilling bootleg whiskey. Ned soon received news that there were parties of police heading into the Wombat Ranges to capture them and in response the four decided to bail up the police and rob them.

On 26 October, 1878, a party of four policemen consisting of Sergeant Michael Kennedy and Constables Thomas McIntyre from Mansfield, Michael Scanlan from Mooroopna and Thomas Lonigan from Violet Town, entered the bush in pursuit of the fugitive brothers and camped at Stringybark Creek, less than a mile from the hideout. The next day Ned, accompanied by the other three, ambushed the police. Lonigan was shot dead while attempting to fire at Ned. Ned interrogated McIntyre, who revealed that Kennedy and Scanlan were out scouting. Joe attempted to settle the terrified trooper by drinking tea and smoking with him. When the other police returned, McIntyre attempted to get them to surrender but a gunfight erupted. Constable Scanlan was shot and killed, then Kennedy was also killed after a running gunfight. It has been suggested that Joe Byrne fired the shot that killed Scanlan, but there is not enough evidence to conclusively prove the notion. Regardless, Joe took Scanlan’s solitaire ring, a gold band with a blue topaz set in it, as well as Lonigan’s wedding band and watch. The watch was eventually returned but Joe always wore the rings and is seen wearing them in the post morte. photos taken of him at Benalla. The gang were soon declared outlaws by act of parliament, with Joe for the first time having a price of £250 on his head, though he was unidentified at the time. Based on descriptions given by Constable McIntyre, some people recognised his as Billy King, another name put forward was Bob Burns.

The outlaws’ next move was to rob a bank to pay their supporters. After weeks of scouting and collecting tips, the gang struck on 7 December, 1878. They stuck up Younghusband’s Station, Faithful Creek where the staff and visitors were locked in a shed. The gang dressed in new clothes taken from a hawker’s wagon. The following morning Joe joined Ned and Steve in vandalising the telegraph lines. Later, Joe was left to guard the prisoners while Ned, Steve and Dan rode into Euroa to rob the bank. Joe had written a letter in red ink, dictated by Ned, which was Ned’s attempt to explain his side of the story. This would become known as the Cameron letter as it was sent to Donald Cameron MP whose political posturing Ned had mistaken as being sympathy. The gang released the prisoners in the evening and escaped with £1500 in gold and cash.

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Joe Byrne (Steve Bisley) takes the gang’s horses to get shod in Jerilderie in ‘The Last Outlaw’ [1980]

The gang went to ground briefly following the robbery, but they were still active in planning their next heist. In February 1879 Joe convinced Aaron Sherritt that the gang would strike at Goulburn. Aaron duly passed this information on to Superintendent Hare in Benalla. Hare had been given the job of leading the hunt for the Kelly Gang after the previous leader, Superintendent Nicolson, was deemed unfit for purpose. So, while the police headed for Goulburn, the gang headed for Jerilderie. Ned and Joe spent a night drinking in the company of Mary Jordan, a barmaid known locally as Mary the Larrikin. The next day they joined Dan and Steve and rode into Jerilderie at night where they roused the police and bailed them up. The police were held in their own lock-up and the gang took over occupancy of the police station. Over the weekend the gang dressed in the policemen’s uniforms and scoped the town out. Joe had the gang’s horses shod on the government account and helped Ned plan the big robbery. Another letter was written up by Joe, dictated by Ned, to be printed in the local rag, since named the Jerilderie letter. It was a much longer version of the previous letter and appears to have had much more content influence by Joe. On the day of the heist the locals were rounded up into the pub and Joe went next door into the bank via a rear entrance, pretending to be a drunk. He held the staff at gunpoint declaring “I’m Kelly!” and was soon joined by Ned and Steve. The bank was raided and Ned even took to burning debt records. Afterwards the gang shouted everyone drinks and Ned gave a speech before the gang rode away with £2000 in unmarked, untraceable banknotes, gold and change. The New South Wales government immediately doubled the reward for the gang to £8000. In the wake of the gang’s increased notoriety, a song began circulating supposed to have been written by none other than Joe Byrne himself, telling the story of the gang’s exploits.

The few months after Jerilderie saw Joe and Dan testing the Sherritt brothers for their loyalty. On numerous occasions Joe would write threatening letters to Detective Ward and draw caricatures that were both insulting an a threat. He would give them to Jack Sherritt to pass on to Ward. Joe would frequently tell Jack and Aaron about supposed plans the gang had for future robberies and at one point suggested he and Dan would recruit Jack and Aaron to join them in robbing a bank behind Ned’s back, because Joe did not agree with Ned’s method. Joe was soon being pressured by sympathisers to murder Aaron and in a letter sent to Aaron on 26 June, 1879 he stated:

The Lloyds and Quinns wants you shot but I say no, you are on our side.

It was around this time that Joe’s opium addiction because problematic. Opium is a powerful drug that is highly addictive and when Joe’s supply ran out he suffered withdrawals. With this came weightloss, fever, mood swings, and anxiety among other symptoms. While opiate withdrawal can induce a form of psychosis, it is unclear if this was something Joe suffered. Some speculate that he was paranoid that the Sherritts were plotting against him, but it must be remembered that not only was this belief fostered by the Kelly sympathisers, it was actually true (at least where Jack Sherritt was concerned). There was even suggestions that one of the Sherritt brothers, likely Jack, was masquerading as Joe to plant stolen horses in people’s paddocks and harass station-masters at railway crossings in order to stimulate police presence in areas where there were suspected sympathisers.

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Joe Byrne (Orlando Bloom) visits his girlfriend Maggie (Brooke Harman) in ‘Ned Kelly’ [2003]

Throughout his outlawry Joe was seeing a general maid named Maggie at The Vine Hotel in Beechworth. The hotel was run by the Vandenbergs, a prominent family in the community, and was far enough outside of the town centre that Joe could access it with hardly any risk of being spotted. On Saturday nights Joe would sneak out of the bush for a drink and a bit of horizontal refreshment, then catch up on the gossip from around town. The last time they saw each other was just before Glenrowan when Maggie informed Joe that Aaron Sherritt had been in The Vine with a policeman who had interrogated her.

Despite Joe’s apparent misgivings about Aaron’s supposed infidelity, it was decided to make Aaron a vital part of Ned Kelly’s masterplan to lure a train full of police to Glenrowan. Many questions still loom about the details of Ned’s original plan but what is known is that Joe and Dan bailed up Anton Wick and used him to lure Aaron to open the door to his hut, whereupon Joe blasted him twice with a shotgun, killing him instantaneously. For two hours Joe and Dan terrorised the four armed police hiding in the bedroom, threatening to shoot them or burn the hut down, before setting Wick free and heading off for Glenrowan to meet Ned and Steve.

After arriving at Glenrowan, Joe was tasked with escorting Jane Jones, the daughter of the Glenrowan Inn’s publican, into the inn to prepare for the gang’s prisoners. Throughout the day he guarded the prisoners. At one stage Joe had to calm a situation outside the gatehouse, where Ned was verbally abusing a teenage boy to the point that the boy was shaking uncontrollably in terror. As time went on Joe’s mood seemed to improve and he grew friendly with Ann Jones, dancing with her and at one point playing with her hair while she tugged at Scanlan’s ring on his finger. In the evening Joe accompanied Ned to bail up Constable Bracken, the town’s only policeman.

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Joe Byrne’s iron armour

In the early hours of Monday morning, 28 June, the police special train Ned had planned to derail finally arrived in Glenrowan. It was warned by the school teacher who had been allowed to go free by Ned the night before. The gang put on suits of iron armour and confronted the police. In the gunfight Ned was injured as was Superintendent Hare and Joe, who was shot in the right calf, an injury that would have damaged nerves, tendons and ligaments. During the fight Joe and Ned were overheard bickering, Joe reportedly telling Ned:

I always told you this bloody armour would bring us to grief, and now it has!

The armour had been constructed mysteriously in the early part of 1880. They were made mostly from repurposed plough mouldboards. Each suit had a slightly different design. Joe’s is considered the best made suit and has small plates to connect the backplate and breastplate. The helmet has a distinct scalloped faceplate that gives the impression of two individual eye holes, rather that a single eyeslit like the rest of the gang’s helmets. Despite it’s effectiveness in protecting the head and torso, the arms, legs and groin were still vulnerable. Ned seemed to think the armour would lead them to victory, but the opposite seemed true.

Over the next few hours Ned disappeared and the rest of the gang retreated into the inn. Police reinforcements began to arrive and the inn was continuously riddled with bullets. Some of the prisoners, mostly women and children, managed to escape, mostly unharmed. With Ned missing and no sign of an escape route, the gang’s morale was low. Joe began to drink heavily. At around 5am Joe poured himself a drink and stood at the bar giving a toast:

Here’s to many more long and happy days in the bush, boys!

At that moment a fusillade of bullets penetrated the inn and Joe was hit in the groin. He collapsed on top of two of the trapped civilians and bled to death within minutes, the bullet having severed his femoral artery.

In the afternoon, after Ned was captured and the prisoners freed, the inn was set on fire by police. Father Gibney, a priest from Western Australia, rushed in to try to rescue Dan and Steve but found them dead. Joe’s body was dragged from the inferno by police but the other two gang members were incinerated. Joe was still dressed in his armour when he was dragged out.

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Byrne’s corpse photographed at Benalla by Burman [Source: Victoria Police Museum]

Joe’s body was taken to Benalla police station where it was sketched by artist Julian Ashton, then tied to a lock-up door for photographers. The sight attracted a number of curious spectators but was described with great disgust in the press. The skin on the hands had begun to crack and blister from the fire, and the face was black with smoke. The clothes were stained with dirt and blood.

The inquest on Byrne’s body was conducted in secret that night and immediately followed by a casting of the body for the Bourke Street wax museum. Stripped of his clothing and jewellery, Byrne was given a pauper’s burial in an unmarked grave in Benalla cemetery, before the family had a chance to claim it. This was deliberately engineered by Captain Standish, the chief commissioner of police. The report from the inquest was never released, only a summary of the findings.

Decades later a grave marker was placed in the approximate location of Joe’s grave. To date he is the only member of the Kelly Gang with a marked gravesite. His family later moved further north but tragedy seemed to follow them. His sister Kate was briefly admitted to a lunatic asylum. His brother Paddy apparently committed suicide by drowning and Margret Byrne refused to discuss Joe, referring to him only as “The Devil”.

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Joe Byrne and Aaron Sherritt in more carefree times.

The popular perception of Joe Byrne is to either typify him as a romantic balladeer with Bohemian proclivities or a murderous, paranoid and unhinged drug addict. Neither interpretation is correct. Joe was a complex man who at once was loyal to a fault and hopelessly addicted to sex, booze and opium. At the same time he had a fierce temper that would result in violent acts, sometimes extremely so, and his intellect was hamstrung by his lack of education and opportunities to flex his grey matter. Under more favourable circumstances Joe Byrne could have become a successful bush balladeer like Lawson or Patterson. Instead, his poverty stricken home life and lack constructive outlets to indulge his artistic leanings resulted in delinquency and eventually outlawry that resulted in his premature death.


A Special thank you to Georgina Stones for her assistance in putting this brief biography together.

If you would like to read some of Georgina’s writings about Joe Byrne, you can read them at An Outlaw’s Journal.

You can also read some of her work below:

Joe Byrne: An Opinion

“I have a heart, but it’s as hard as stone”: Joe Byrne and Aaron Sherritt

Fragments from an Outlaw’s Journal

Dan Kelly: An Overview

Forever consigned to popular culture as Ned Kelly’s little brother, Dan Kelly was a young man of only nineteen when he lost his life fighting the police. Like so many “boy bushrangers” his young life was snuffed out without him having ever fulfilled his potential, wasting his youth on a life of crime. But there was more to Dan Kelly than just having Ned Kelly as his big brother.

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Studio portrait of Dan Kelly

Daniel Kelly was born on 1 June, 1861 to John “Red” Kelly and Ellen Quinn. He was named after one of his father’s brothers and christened in the church in Beveridge, Victoria, where the family were living in a house John had built. Before Dan was born, there had been Mary Jane (died in infancy), Annie, Ned, Maggie and Jim. Dan would be followed by Kate and Grace. Dan’s infancy years were quiet for the family. John turned his hand to a number of occupations but was primarily employed doing odd jobs around the district and splitting timber. Financial strain, however, soon saw John attempting to distill his own whiskey. Unfortunately he took to drinking most of the produce himself. The difficulty saw the family relocate to Avenel, but here their problems would not only continue, they would worsen.

[Source: The Illustrated Australian News, 17/07/1880]

John spent six months in gaol in 1866 for stealing and butchering a calf. This meant that for half a year Ellen was reliant on her brothers for help around the place. The Quinn brothers were not model citizens by the furthest stretch, Jimmy Quinn being the worst of the lot. Jimmy was too fond of liquor, quick to violence and did not discriminate when choosing a target. No doubt Dan’s exposure to this would have negatively shaped his young mind. When John was released from gaol he was a broken man. Dan was barely five years old when his father died of dropsy, an old term for oedema (build-up of fluid in the soft tissues), likely linked to his alcoholism. He was buried in Avenel. The family soon found themselves frequently homeless, moving from Avenel to an abandoned pub in Greta. Here the Kellys co-habited with Ellen’s sisters, both of whose husbands were in prison at the time, and their children while they attempted to make ends meet.

The new home in Greta was short-lived. One night John Kelly’s brother James had arrived at the house drunk and his sexual advances were rebuffed by Ellen. He returned later that same night and burned the place to the ground. The children inside were asleep but the sisters remained awake, fearful of retribution. After another binge at the local pub, James threw incendiary devices at the house until a fire took hold, but thankfully there were no fatalities. The families were now homeless again and devoid of earthly possessions such as clothes and furniture. When James was tried he was sentenced to death by Sir Redmond Barry. This was later commuted to a long prison sentence by the executive council. The Greta community got together and helped the victims get back on their feet. Ellen soon gained a lease on a selection on the 11 Mile Creek. Things were starting to look up.

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This portable lock-up was formerly used in Greta and likely was the one that held young Jim and Dan Kelly before they were transferred to Wangaratta.

With his big brother Ned, only twelve himself when Red died, acting as man of the house, Dan and his brother Jim often ran wild. By 1870 things had changed dramatically for the family. Ellen had her selection but the land was not fit for crops. The family had to rely on the money they made from lodgers and travellers looking for a drink. Fifteen year-old Ned worked for a time as Harry Power‘s offsider, and then found himself in and out of gaol, eventually copping three years for receiving a stolen horse. Jim was now the man of the house in Ned’s absence. Jim was not a good candidate, however, and would coax Dan into mischief; their first arrest occurring when Dan was only ten years old.

In September 1871, Jim and Dan had borrowed horses without permission from a hawker named Mark Krafft. Krafft had been grazing his horses at the Kelly selection, as he had frequently done, and the boys had taken them for a joyride. Jim had previously been working as Krafft’s servant to get some extra money, the pudgy child being less physical than his big brother and thus less suited to splitting work. Constable Ernest Flood, newly stationed in Greta, nabbed them on a charge of illegally using a horse and took the children to Wangaratta to be kept in the logs until trial. When they went to court two days later the case was quickly dismissed on account of Jim’s and Dan’s ages (12 and 10 respectively) and the fact that Jim had been a servant of Krafft for a time. One can only imagine the impact that the experience of being taken away from their family and locked up in a cell with a bunch of strange, grown men waiting for trial for two days would have been on the children. It would eventuate that Flood was nothing but bad news for the family, allegedly stealing their horses and selling them to railway workers and sexually assaulting Dan’s big sister Annie and making her pregnant, though the truth of this is debatable owing to there being no solid evidence to back the claims.

Jim, only fourteen, ended up in gaol in 1873 with two sentences of 2 1/2 years to be served consecutively for helping shift stolen cattle. With Red gone and Ned and Jim in gaol, Ellen was on the lookout for a new man to help around the house and to protect her from her brothers or anyone else that might come sniffing around with bad intentions. She took the bold move of selling grog on the sly to travellers and seemed to think she had found her man in Bill Frost, an itinerant worker who had lodged with the family. Frost engaged in a sexual relationship with Ellen, from which she became pregnant with a daughter. Frost was apparently not keen to be a father and skipped town. Ellen, not one to be passive, tracked him down and took him to court for maintenance. After a long and bitter dispute she won but the infant died before the first maintenance payment came through. One can only imagine how this would have impacted young Dan, who had to assume the role of man of the house.

It wasn’t all gloomy for Dan though. According to some accounts, while his big brothers were doing time, Dan was lavished with affection from his sisters. Some considered this made him spoiled, but at any rate he managed to keep his nose clean during this period. It was at this time that Ellen took in George King, a 25 year-old American-born traveller, miner and stock thief. It was a remarkably short courtship as they were married in 1874, just after Ned came home from Pentridge. Within a month Ellen gave birth again. No doubt Dan, now thirteen, was relieved not to have the responsibility of being the male head of the household anymore. Between Ned and George the role was well taken care of.

Dan’s main hobbies at this time were much the same as the majority of young men in the country – riding and hunting. Dan would latch onto groups of boys who were out kangaroo hunting and took much pride in his marksmanship. He also took much joy in racing his peers on horseback. A brilliant description of Dan came from Joseph Ashmead, a friend of the Kelly family, in an unpublished memoir:

He was riding a smart black pony, and proudly told us it was a galloper and could clear any fence in the north east. The boy was alert and active with piercing black eyes that took in everything at a glance. He wore strapped trousers, a red shirt and straw hat tilted forward, secured by a strap under his nose. The back of his head was broad and covered with close cropped hair as black and shiny as a crow; his jaw was heavy, his lips thin, and when closed tightly, there seemed to be something cruel in them, but when they relaxed into a smile, he appeared to be a jovial, good-natured fellow. His name was Dan Kelly and he was a great lover of horses. I was the only one of the boys who had a horse. A bay pony. She had belonged to a clergyman and was an honest goer. Dan ran his eye over my over my horse and proposed that we should have a race, a challenge that I gladly accepted. When Dan found that he could not shake me off, he developed a great respect for me, and declared there was not a kangaroo in all the country who could get away from us, so we went kangaroo hunting, not once but many times. I left my cows to look after themselves, or bribed some of the boys to look after them for me, with the promises of some sinews out of the kangaroo’s tail to make whip crackers with.

No doubt Dan’s hunting provided much needed meat for the family, or at least was able to be sold to raise money for other goods. Seemingly Dan left home at the first opportunity to seek work. By some reports he travelled into New South Wales to work on sheep stations around the Monaro region as a shearer. He was also reported to have worked in Chesney Vale with Ned as a brick layer, but was not very good at it. It is likely that this is when Dan took up possession of an abandoned miner’s hut by Bullock Creek in the Wombat Ranges and began prospecting for gold. Sluices were later constructed along the creek and this would have provided a bit of pocket money. No doubt the seasonal nature of most of these jobs left Dan with a considerable amount of free time in between and he soon found himself adopting the larrikin culture of the day.

[Source: Melbourne Punch, 30/10/1873]

The fast riding, clownishly attired, skirt chasing lifestyle of the larrikin had become a widespread issue throughout the colonies. Gangs of youths in porkpie or billycock hats worn on jaunty angles, short Paget coats and jackets, bell-bottom trousers, colourful sashes and pointy high-heeled boots would loiter in public areas making a nuisance of themselves. Dan became a founding member of the “Greta Mob”, who populated the streets around Greta and Wangaratta. Apart from Dan, the mob consisted mostly of his cousins Tom and Jack Lloyd and a young Wangaratta jockey named Steve Hart, with the rotating roster of associates typical of these forms of social group. Their primary interests were fast horses, smoking, booze and chatting up girls. The boys were known to ride full gallop through the streets and challenge each other to various horse tricks. Steve Hart, for instance, could get his horse to vault over the railway gates, much to the chagrin of the gatekeeper. The Greta Mob adopted as their signature the larrikin badges of high-heeled boots, cocked billycock hats with the hatstring worn under the nose (to stop the hat flying off when riding at full gallop) and brightly coloured sashes worn around the waist. The style was clownish but that’s not unusual for teenage boys of any era. Unfortunately, Dan was still living in hand-me-downs and cut an odd figure in his threadbare, oversized, outdated outfits. The only verified photographic images we have of Dan illustrate this clearly. He wears a rumpled hat, a baggy sack coat with missing buttons and fraying cuffs as well as baggy trousers held up with a piece of rope. He was known to grow his hair long and seems to have cultivated a moustache at some point. But what Dan lacked in creole couture he made up for in his riding and his drinking. It has been written that Dan had many sweethearts but whenever they were unavailable for a night of frivolity he would employ the services of working girls, though it is incredibly unlikely that a fifteen year-old boy would have the presence of mind or the funds to engage in that lifestyle, regardless of the usual rampant libido they enjoyed.

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One of the few times Dan graced the courts was in relation to a supposedly stolen saddle. In March 1877 he was charged with stealing the saddle in question in Benalla and was tried during the Beechworth general sessions before Judge Hackett. It had taken five months to lay charges against the teenager. The saddle in question was one that Dan had purchased from a man named Roberts in exchange for a different saddle and £1, and he produced a receipt to prove it, which was verified in court. Along with Jack Lloyd and his brother-in-law Bill Skillion, Ned Kelly was present during the hearing as a witness to back up his little brother. In the end the case was dismissed and Dan walked away with a sense of vindication. Judge Hackett stated that he “did not see why the prisoner was there at all” as his case was clear-cut. During this case Dan displayed a trait that distinguished him from his older brothers – he provided no resistance to arrest and complied happily with the police. This could be interpreted by some as overconfidence in his ability to dodge a conviction, but more likely Dan understood that resisting arrest was a fool’s game and further that he was innocent of the crime of which he was accused (which a trial would – and did – prove). This would not be the last time he displayed a conspicuous willingness to comply.

While he had been waiting to appear in court over the saddle charge, Dan met two boys from the Woolshed Valley named Joe Byrne and Aaron Sherritt. They were also waiting to appear in court that day over a charge of assault against a Chinaman named Ah On. It would eventuate that the pair would not get their day in court that same day, remanded to be tried in the next session. What exactly transpired between the young men in that cell can only be guessed at, but this would prove to be a fateful friendship.

Dan’s first and only conviction came from an incident at Goodman’s store, Winton, on September 28, 1877. Dan had travelled into town to exchange meat for goods. When he arrived the establishment wasn’t open and therefore no trade took place. Annoyed, Dan went drinking with his cousins Tom and Jack then returned with them to Goodman’s store, drunk. Dan smashed in the door and took the goods he sought. A man going by the name Moses Solomon was also there and claimed he was assaulted by the rowdy larrikins. Tom Lloyd lingered and flashed Mrs. Goodman, the other two pushing Tom into her with the lights out. Dan was found guilty of wilfully damaging the property and sentenced to three months in Beechworth Gaol. Tom Lloyd was additionally charged with intent to rape but was found not guilty, yet still got six months for his part. Dan did his time in Beechworth Gaol without incident. Almost miraculously for a Kelly boy he managed to get through his sentence without incurring any additional penalties. Three months crushing granite would have given Dan bigger muscles, but also greater resolve to walk the straight and narrow once he was out. Unfortunately fate had a different plan for him.

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Tom Lloyd, Dan’s cousin [Source: Victoria Police Museum, VPM3061]

While Dan was still in prison a warrant was issued for his arrest. A witness saw two young men they believed to be Dan Kelly and Jack Lloyd leading a mob of stolen horses near Chiltern. They reported it to the police and the paperwork was duly issued. This was noted by Constable Alexander Fitzpatrick after reading the announcement in the Police Gazette. On April 15, 1878, Fitzpatrick was sent from Benalla to take over at Greta police station. Fitzpatrick informed his superior, Sergeant Whelan, that he knew of a warrant for Dan Kelly and intended on arresting him on his way to the station. Fitzpatrick went alone to the Kelly property and what occurred has been subject to much scrutiny and debate. The general thrust is that Fitzpatrick enquired after Dan but found he was away. The constable then asked a neighbour, Brickey Williamson, about Dan’s whereabouts before electing to return to the Kelly house and wait. He was greeted by Dan who offered to go quietly on the provision that he could finish his dinner first. After this, a scuffle broke out and Fitzpatrick was wounded in the wrist. The policeman claimed Ned Kelly had shot him, Ned Kelly claimed he wasn’t even there. Each witness account conflicted with the others in some way. Regardless, Dan and Ned immediately fled to the Wombat Ranges. Ellen Kelly, Brickey Williamson and Dan’s brother-in-law Bill Skillion were arrested and charged with aiding attempted murder.

Constable Fitzpatrick [Source: Victoria Police Museum, VPM2580]

For six months Dan and Ned hid in the ranges. A second, fortified, hut was built further up the creek from Dan’s place using thick logs, and both huts were equipped with whiskey stills. The intention was to raise money for Ellen Kelly’s defence by selling gold and bootleg whiskey. Unfortunately it was not enough and Ellen got three years, the men each received six years.

After the trial police parties were organised to bring the Kelly brothers to justice. Warrants had been issued for their arrest. There was £100 on each of their heads; Ned for attempted murder, Dan for aiding and abetting. A party was sent from Mansfield to find the Kellys in the Wombat Ranges. The party consisted of Sergeant Michael Kennedy and constables Michael Scanlan, Thomas McIntyre and Thomas Lonigan. When Ned found the police party’s tracks he sent Dan to find their camp, which he duly did. The next day the brothers, roused by McIntyre firing a shotgun while hunting parrots, went to the police camp with Joe Byrne and Steve Hart. They hid in the spear-grass and intended on ambushing the camp to take the police guns and horses. When the bushrangers emerged they held McIntyre at gunpoint. When Lonigan ran to cover and moved to fire at the arrivals, Ned shot him. There was a moment of disbelief as Lonigan struggled on the ground. Dan remarked “He was a plucky fellow. Did you see how he went for his gun?” He then seized the police shotgun and searched the tent. When Lonigan’s identity was revealed, Dan exclaimed that “He won’t be putting any of us poor buggers away again.”

[Source: State Library of Victoria]

McIntyre took a particular dislike to Dan, describing his nervous laughter and his “grotesque” appearance in his oversized hand-me-down clothes. McIntyre fully believed that Dan would be the one to put a bullet in him.

Dan insisted McIntyre be handcuffed but Ned refused, believing a fear of being shot was incentive enough for the trooper to obey his orders. This did not sit well with Dan who grumbled that the police would just as soon clap cuffs on them.

When Kennedy and Scanlan returned from scouting McIntyre tried to persuade them to surrender but a gunfight broke out. Scanlan was shot, McIntyre escaped on Kennedy’s horse and Kennedy fired at the Kellys with his pistol. A bullet from Kennedy hit Dan’s shoulder as the sergeant retreated into the bush after McIntyre. Kennedy was soon killed by Ned a considerable distance from the camp. The gang looted the bodies and Dan took Scanlan’s pocket watch. The salvageable items were collected and the tent burnt as the gang escaped.

Source: Weekly Times. 16 November 1878: 17

As a result of the incident at Stringybark Creek, Ned and Dan were outlawed with a reward of £500 each. At this stage Joe and Steve were unidentified.

In December 1878 the gang re-emerged near Violet Town. They stuck up Younghusband’s Station on Faithfuls Creek in the afternoon and began herding the staff into a shed. They kept the staff as prisoners in the tool shed overnight and stole new outfits from a hawker’s wagon. That night the gang chatted with their captives, answering questions but with Ned doing most of the talking. Dan and Steve were overheard talking about how they’d like a lark with the female prisoners. In the morning the nearby telegraph poles were damaged by Ned, Joe and Steve. In the afternoon Ned, Dan and Steve headed into Euroa to rob the bank, leaving Joe on sentry at the station. The timing was meticulously arranged to coincide with a funeral that would keep the townsfolk occupied during the gang’s activities. Dan acted as a guard, standing at the rear of the bank, making sure that nobody escaped or interrupted while Ned and Steve robbed the place. Once the loot had been acquired the bushrangers headed back to the station with the bank staff and the manager’s family and servants. On the way Dan rode in the stolen hawker’s wagon and kept his gun trained on Mrs. Scott, the bank manager’s wife, who was driving a buggy alongside, in case she tried to escape or raise an alarm. The raid went off without a hitch and the gang escaped with thousands of pounds to distribute among their families and sympathisers. Before they left, Dan gave Constable Scanlan’s watch to Becroft, the hawker’s assistant, and money with which to repair it. It is unclear what the nature of the damage was.

[Source: Melbourne Punch, 19/12/1878]

In February 1879 the gang struck again at Jerilderie. They travelled over the border to answer a challenge that they wouldn’t last 24 hours in New South Wales. The gang roused the police in the middle of the night and locked them in their own cells. Mrs. Devine, the wife of the senior constable, recalled how as the gang occupied their home during their stay Dan would bounce her son on his knee but later spoke in quite a violent manner in order to make her work faster as she decorated the courthouse for mass. The gang then went through town disguised in police uniforms pretending to be reinforcements against the Kelly Gang. On the Monday Dan and Joe had their horses shod at the blacksmith and investigated the telegraph lines before the gang put their plan into full effect. Ned, Steve and Joe robbed the bank while Dan kept prisoners under control next door in the hotel. The gang had successfully managed to occupy the town for a whole weekend unmolested and rode away with thousands of pounds in unmarked notes that could not be traced. In response, the New South Wales government doubled the reward for the gang to £8000.

Dan Kelly (John Ley) helps Mrs. Devine (Anne Pendlebury) prepare the courthouse for mass in ‘The Last Outlaw’ (1980)

Upon leaving New South Wales, the gang split up to reconvene at the Byrne selection at a set date and time. Only Dan arrived on time. He stayed for dinner and questioned the Byrnes about whether the other gang members had been past. Dan seems to have had a good relationship with the Byrnes, frequently stopping by in much the same manner for a meal and a chat. Dan also seemed to be the most active gang member, being reported as having been spotted more than any other member of the Kelly Gang. It is also probable that he partook in Joe’s favourite past-time of visiting the Sebastopol opium dens for a smoke and card games.

Over the course of 1879 and early 1880, Dan and Joe Byrne tested the loyalty of the Sherritts and various other sympathisers that were suspected of turning on the gang. On 14 May, 1880, Dan paid a visit to his uncle Tom Lloyd. Lloyd’s neighbour, a police informant named Jacob Wilson, saw horses in Lloyd’s garden and began snooping. He was found behind the cow shed by the dogs and the barking roused everyone in the house. Uncle Tom sent the dog to chase the man down and he climbed up a cherry tree. Dan Kelly and cousin Tom Lloyd, who were unarmed, fetched the dog and yelled taunts to the police they assumed were nearby, before going back inside. Wilson was so terrified he stayed in the tree until morning. Incidents like this were increasingly common and the gang began to stop visiting certain people in case they were spotted.

24-A-Sherritt

More concerning to the gang however was the rumour that had been circulating that the Sherritts were in cahoots with the police, fuelled by the vicious game of “Chinese Whispers” that accounted for the gang’s bush telegraph. On one occasion Dan arrived at the Sherritt selection on Sheepstation Creek looking for Jack Sherritt, Aaron’s younger brother. When he was told Jack wasn’t home he pushed his way inside with a revolver drawn and searched for him. Dan said they wanted to speak with him. Unbeknownst to Dan, Jack was at that moment speeding away to speak to Assistant Commissioner Nicolson in a desperate attempt to seek protection. Nicolson told him to go to a local pub and use that as his alibi. It was clear to everyone that the gang was getting desperate and had cottoned on that something was up and Ned was determined to address it in his next big scheme.

In early 1880 a plan had been devised by Ned Kelly to escalate the gang’s activities. The banks were too heavily guarded to rob as they had done previously, so now they were struggling to find ways to keep their network of sympathisers on-side. The gang’s health was also deteriorating as the rigours of life on the run was wearing them down. Ned suffered sciatica and sandy blight, Joe struggled with withdrawals as his opium supply was cut off due to lack of funds, and Dan was described by one witness as looking gaunt and hollow-cheeked. Police parties were coming closer than before to catching the gang and even had the assistance of an elite team of black trackers from Queensland on top of a network of police spies and informants. Ned wanted to end the pursuit in dramatic fashion by luring a trainload of police and trackers to be derailed at Glenrowan. He sent Dan and Joe to create a commotion at Aaron Sherritt’s hut, where a team of constables had been allocated to protect him, as the bait. On Saturday 26 June, Dan and Joe kidnapped Aaron’s neighbour Anton Wick and used him to lure Aaron to his back door whereupon he was murdered by Joe with a shotgun. Dan guarded the front door in case the police that were hiding inside tried to escape. The two bushrangers then terrorised the party of constables as they cowered in the bedroom, Aaron’s mother-in-law and pregnant wife stuck between the two sides. Attempts to burn the place failed and the outlaws rode away two hours later. It would be midday the next day before any of the police were brave enough to see if they had gone. Initially Ellen Barry, the mother-in-law, stated that Dan had been quiet when entering the hut with a pistol. It was only later when attempts were being made to gain a payout from the police that she would describe him resting on the table as he looked at the murdered Sherritt with a grin.

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Aaron Sherritt’s Hut

Dan and Joe arrived at Glenrowan at around 5am on 27 June, 1880. Dan was immediately employed with tending the horses and carrying the gang’s armour into the Glenrowan Inn. Over the course of the day Dan guarded the prisoners in the inn and even initiated dancing to keep them entertained. He was seen to get intimate with Jane Jones, the publican’s daughter, she having been spotted sitting on his knee and kissing him, even being given one of his revolvers to use while she kept the prisoners at bay when Dan had to leave the room. As the weekend rolled on and the special train did not appear as expected, tensions began to rise. Multiple times during the gang’s stay at Glenrowan, Dan told Ned they should leave and argued the point only to be shouted down by his brother who was determined that they would stay and fight. The longer they waited the more difficult it became to keep the prisoners under control and the more they risked accidentally derailing a civilian train. Ned refused to heed his brother’s pleas. When Ned decided to release Thomas Curnow, the school teacher, Dan argued publicly with him as he knew Curnow could not be trusted. Curnow had spent the day trying to butter Ned up, a suspicious Dan watching like a hawk. Sure enough, when the train did appear in the early hours of 28 June, Curnow warned the police that the tracks were damaged and the gang was in Glenrowan. Just before the train arrived, Dan had told the prisoners to head home, however they were detained by Ann Jones who told them to wait for Ned to make a speech. If Dan’s instructions had not been countermanded a considerable amount of the tragedy that was to unfold could have been avoided.

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Dan Kelly’s armour [Source: Victoria Police Museum, VPM1799]

When the train arrived the gang dressed in their homemade armour and engaged in a gun battle. Ned and Joe were wounded early on and they retreated inside. Ned soon disappeared into the bush behind the inn and Dan took control of the situation, doing his best to evacuate the women and children despite the relentless firing from police. Joe was shot dead by a police bullet early in the morning and Dan and Steve became very disheartened, believing Ned had also been killed or had abandoned them. When Ned re-emerged just before 7am the remaining gang provided covering fire from the inn, but within a half hour Ned was captured and the two bushrangers were stuck in the inn surrounded by police in broad daylight. Dan had received a bullet in the leg that shattered his knee and necessitated a retreat into the inn. At 10am the rest of the prisoners were released and Dan and Steve remained inside. As the prisoners left they shook Dan’s hand.

What happened in the inn next is unknown but it is possible that Dan was struck in the neck by a bullet while his helmet was off and killed or that he took his own life by taking poison. All that is known for certain is that at 3pm the inn was burned and while it was on fire his corpse was witnessed by multiple people, in the back room still in body armour and resting on a pillow made of sacks. The body was effectively cremated in the fire and the burnt remains released to his family. Later, Dr. Hutchison, a medic who had been called up to assist during the siege, retrieved what was believed to be Dan’s foot from the ruins and the scorched bones were handed down through the family.

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The bodies of Dan Kelly and Steve Hart in the Glenrowan inferno, sketched by Thomas Carrington.

Around 200 people attended the wake at Maggie Skillion‘s home, many of whom were drunk and armed. Police efforts to reclaim the bodies were scrapped in response, the risks being too high. Though there are a number of (probably deliberately) conflicting oral histories with respect to the location of the last resting place of the two outlaws, most accounts indicate Dan Kelly was buried in an unmarked double grave in Greta cemetery with Steve Hart. The location within the cemetery of the exact double grave they were interred in is a closely guarded secret in family traditions in an effort to avoid the graves being disturbed. Unfortunately, this has added fuel to the fire of conspiracy theories and in one infamous case a particularly motivated “truther” went through the cemetery plunging steel probes into grave sites hoping to prove that there were no coffins in them. When Ellen Kelly died the 1923, she was buried in an unmarked plot next to the official spot where Red Kelly’s youngest son is buried.

Somewhat grotesque depiction of the wake for Dan and Steve. Maggie Skillion stands at the door with a shotgun while an oath of vengeance is sworn over the charred corpses. Kate Kelly rests on her knees in the foreground. It was not reported who had sworn the oath in most accounts. [Source: Australasian Sketcher, 17/07/1880]

In the years after Glenrowan there were rumours that Dan and Steve had escaped to South Africa to fight in the Boer War. In 1911, novellist Ambrose Pratt, author behind the memoirs of Captain Thunderbolt’s apprentice William Monckton, published a book claiming to be the memoirs of Dan Kelly. In fact, many people claimed to be Dan Kelly over the years, most notably a tramp called James Ryan whose ridiculous attempt to cash in on the survival rumours were published in the press and convinced scores of people who lacked knowledge of basic facts of the story. Ryan’s story even inspired the utterly woeful film The Glenrowan Affair. Ryan was killed by a coal train in the 1933 and is buried in Ipswich, Queensland. In order to lure tourists, the cemetery even erected a memorial telling the story of the claimant. None of the alleged Dans ever had any solid case to back their claims up but the myths of a miraculous escape from the burning inn persist to this day.

Dan Kelly was, in most ways, at least as competent as his big brother. As a horseman, tracker and marksman, his abilities were perhaps even better. Certainly he was more ruthless than Ned, a pragmatism that some interpreted as callousness or even psychopathy. It must be remembered that the gang were wanted dead or alive (preferably dead) and mistakes could not be afforded. Dan was a much better judge of character than Ned and certainly better at performing under pressure. Even the Kelly matriarch was known to have held Dan in more regard than Ned in these measures.
Unlike his brothers, Dan was fairly successful at avoiding trouble. In fact, it is probably telling that the worst trouble in Dan’s life seemed to come from following Ned’s and Jim’s lead. Imagine how different the story would have turned out if Dan had been able to accompany Fitzpatrick as intended, before Ned and Ellen had attacked the policeman. A stint in the logs, a quick trial during which the mistaken identity could be proven and Dan could have gone home as a free man. Sadly, as in all things, life never pans out the way we think it should.

The Clarke Gang: An Overview 

*** Revised and Updated, 2021 ***

Known by some as the “bloodiest bushrangers”, the Clarke Gang operated in the Braidwood district of New South Wales between 1865 and 1867 led by Thomas Clarke and his uncle Patrick O’Connell. Members were always changing, but the mainstays tended to be Tommy Clarke, Pat O’Connell, John Clarke and Tom O’Connell.

The Clarkes were descendants of convicts, and worked as stockmen around Braidwood. Though they were frequently suspected of involvement in duffing the police struggled to find anything to pin on them, though this hasn’t stopped myriad authors posthumously declaring them to be guilty. This came to a head in May 1861 when Tommy Clarke was arrested and tried for stock theft. Clarke’s boss Hugh Wallace was convinced he was guilty. The lack of evidence saw him cleared, but the damage was done. Wallace sacked Tommy and his father, John Clarke snr, and the newly unemployed Tommy joined his uncle Pat in a career of crime.

Tommy Clarke on his racehorse Boomerang

Over the next five years Thomas was frequently in trouble, suspected of crimes ranging from stock theft to highway robbery with people like William Berriman. The Clarkes and associates were sometimes referred to as “The Jingera Mob”, but were mostly referred to as “the boys”. Because we can’t be certain that the gang were necessarily innocent or guilty of all of the crimes attributed to them, the following will discuss the crimes most commonly associated with them.

When Ben Hall’s gang encroached on the Jingera Mob’s territory in 1865 to rob the Araluen gold escort, Tommy Clarke was believed to be the mysterious new member of the gang. Typically, despite being assumed to be a suspect, Clarke was not involved but he would soon lead his own gang to fill the vacuum left by the deaths of bushrangers like Dan Morgan, Ben Hall and Johnny Gilbert.

The story of the gang really started when Tommy surrendered to police then made a daring escape from Braidwood Gaol on 3 October 1865. Allegedly, with the help of Jim Dornan, otherwise known as “The Long Tailor”, Tommy got over the perimeter palisade wall and escaped into the bush on a horse that had been planted for him. A reward of £200 was offered for his capture.

A series of robberies were conducted around the area that were attributed to “the boys”. In these cases, the offenders were cloaked and masked, making positive identification impossible. One of the earliest examples of such was the raid on Foxlow Station on 29 December 1865. Six armed and disguised bushrangers held up the station and robbed it of over £300 worth of supplies. One of the suspects was Tommy Clarke, but there was no way to prove it.

Clarke’s escape from Braidwood Gaol

The gang, supposed to have consisted of Tommy Clarke, Pat and Tom O’Connell and two Berriman brothers, raided the stores of Mr. Hoskins taking children’s boots, clothing, medicine, lollies, rum, wine, whiskey and chests of tea. Tommy Clarke was reportedly dressed in white moleskins, a monkey jacket and a handkerchief tied around his face. The others had blackened their faces to hide their identities or wore strips of crepe as a mask. Hugh Vallance, the superintenrident, thanked the gang for not mistreating the women and children. The gang would return here on a number of occasions in future to raid the stores and police were soon stationed here to guard it

In February 1866 the gang robbed the post office in Michelago, and on 23 February they robbed the hotel and store at Crowns Plains before moving to Mudmelong. A prisoner had escaped from the hotel and notified police who correctly anticipated the gang’s next move and headed straight to Mudmelong where two policemen were stationed in Morris’ hotel. They mingled with patrons while waiting for the bushrangers to show up and when Tom O’Connell entered the hotel for a drink he was promptly arrested and darbied. O’Connell, who was in his thirties, was a tall man for the time, standing at six feet, and had a crippled right hand. When the rest of the gang arrived looking for him the police opened fire. A fierce standoff ensued during which the bushrangers threatened to burn the hotel down if the police didn’t surrender. Soon Tom O’Connell was freed, four police were held prisoner in the hotel, and their weapons taken by the triumphant bushrangers. Police reinforcements were sent to the town to no avail, having just missed the gang.

On 21 March the gang performed the Rosebrook Station Raid. Sticking up the family of Mrs Mary Ann Hartnett in Cooma, the bushrangers herded the family into a room and robbed the stores, ransacked the house, ate their fill and played music. Following the humiliation the police suffered in Mudmelong, the bushrangers were cocky and had become complacent. Two prisoners escaped and alerted the police. Knowing that they could not afford to risk losing such an opportunity, the police set off straight away. Meanwhile the gang, having taken all they wanted from Rosebrook, headed for another nearby station. The police found the gang at Rose Valley Station where a shoot-out took place but the gang once more escaped.

Reaching newer heights of infamy but still enjoying the support of a syndicate of family and friends who protected them (and enjoyed the spoils from the gang’s activities), the Clarkes decided to step things up. Recruiting a sympathiser, named William Fletcher, the plan was to hit the boom town Nerrigundah, as there was believed to be no police presence there.

9 April 1866 the gang began work around the Gulph Goldfields. It is generally accepted that the gang in this day consisted of Tommy and John Clarke, Pat and Tom O’Connell, Bill and Joe Berriman, and William Fletcher. In the afternoon they began bailing up travellers at Deep Creek, including John Emmott, who was shot in the thigh as he attempted to throw the gold he was carrying into the scrub. The prisoners were held in a pub in Deep Creek while some of the gang rode to Nerrigundah at night. They rounded up the locals and imprisoned them in the London Tavern, then Tommy Clarke attempted to rob Pollock’s Store where a large amount of gold was being stored in a safe. However, Mrs. Pollock threw the key into the street where the bushrangers couldn’t find them. Unbeknownst to them, there were two police in town – Constable Smyth, a new recruit, and Constable O’Grady, who had been sick in bed with “colonial fever”. O’Grady and Smyth walked to the store and O’Grady opened fire. His shot hit Fletcher and a gunfight broke out. Fletcher and O’Grady were both killed. Despite being pursued, and even performing more robberies after they left Nerrigundah, the gang avoided capture.

On 5 June 1866 Thomas Clarke and Patrick O’Connell were officially declared outlaws under the Felon’s Apprehension Act of 1865. While Tommy was a stocky 5’6″ tall, with sandy hair and handsome features, Pat was 5’11”, dark haired, and had part of his thumb and left forefinger missing, which made holding firearms difficult. Both were incredible horsemen and preferred escape over a confrontation with police.

That month they returned to Michelago. In Kennedy’s Pub, locals were held in the parlour while gang members ransacked Levy’s Store. Later Tommy Clarke and Pat O’Connell got drunk and had a fight in the pub. This is widely seen as John Clarke’s first time officially with the gang though he was believed to have been involved with some of the previous incidents.

John Clarke

On 16 July John Clarke was charged with giving sustenance to an outlaw. The police had surmised he was operating as a member of the gang but no clear information to base charges on had come to hand so they had decided to find a way around such a complexity. The charge didn’t stick and John Clarke went free. In September, their associate William Berriman was captured and put in gaol.

On 17 July, Pat O’Connell was killed by Constable Kelly when the gang were intercepted and engaged at Krawarree. Shot while attempting to ride away from the troopers, O’Connell fell from his horse and was trampled by the police horses before the body was taken to the coroner.

In November, Tom O’Connell was captured and given a life sentence. The gang was rapidly crumbling but Tommy Clarke was still at large and the government was desperate to bring him in.

Late in 1866 Sir Henry Parkes selected men to become special constables in an effort to bolster the police effort. The four special constables headed by coach to Braidwood: John Carroll, Aeneas McDonnell, John Phegan and Patrick Kennagh. Camping outside the town the men pretended to be surveyors while making connections in town to gather information. Breaking into the syndicate was no easy task but Carroll and his men began to make headway and discovered an intricate network of friends, relatives and crooked police protecting the bushrangers. However the desire for results began to make Carroll impatient and the syndicate had already begun to clam up around the men as their conspicuous police-issue revolvers and intrusive questions betrayed the fact that they were policemen. When Carroll stepped the operation up a notch and began making arrests things took a deadly turn.

On 9 January 1867 the special constables were found murdered in the bush outside Jinden. A one pound note was pinned to Carroll’s chest. It was widely believed that the Clarke sisters had informed Tommy of the true nature of the new arrivals who had been making their presence known in town, and subsequently Tommy, arranged to lure the men into the bush then murdered them, assisted by his mate Bill Scott. McDonnell and Phegan’s bodies were found a few hundred metres away from Carroll and Kennagh’s near Jinden and immediately Tommy Clarke and Bill Scott became the prime suspects, despite a lack of evidence.

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The discovery of the murdered Special Constables.

Bill Scott had been sighted with the gang in recent months and now became a fully fledged member. Later that month, Clarke’s uncle Mick O’Connell and another sympathiser, James Griffin, were arrested. Griffin turned traitor in an effort to secure his own release and informed police that the Special Constables were murdered by Thomas Clarke and Bill Scott, confirming their suspicions. The reward was set at £5000, the largest such reward yet offered in Australia until the Kelly Gang in 1878.

In the wake of the police murders the syndicate began to fall apart. For the gang’s sympathisers, they had no qualms about accepting the proceeds of crime from the various robberies but murder drew too much attention, and some began to withdraw their support. Tommy and John Clarke were now operating with Bill Scott and Jim Dornan. In all the time since he had helped Tommy Clarke climb over the wall of Braidwood Gaol the “Long Tailor” had not waned in his support and frequently supplied them with clothing. He had taken up with the gang at the first practical opportunity. Things were not all peachy however and in February 1867 Jim Dornan was found dead with skull fracture on Guys Range. Theories abounded about what had happened. Some suspected that he had been trying to get away from the gang following the murders but had accidentally fallen from his horse and died from the subsequent head wound.

The death of the “Long Tailor” could not stop the Clarkes and on 2 March they raided Gundaroo. Frazer’s Stores were robbed followed by robberies in Bungendore and Boro. In April Bill Scott seemingly vanished, and when a badly decomposed corpse was found near Manar, it was assumed to be Scott. Though the body wash identifiable, and no cause of death could be reasonably determined, it was hypothesised that Scott was killed by the Clarkes for trying to turn on them after the police murders. Officially, the unidentified corpse was put to rest as a victim of accidental death, but the police and the press had made their minds up.

Tommy Clarke

On 27 April a group of 15 police led by Senior Constable Wright surround a hut near Braidwood occupied by Tom and John Clarke. Having followed a tip off, they decided to put an end to the bushrangers once and for all. Wright untethered Tommy Clarke’s horse to create a lure and hid. When the brothers emerged to tend the horses Tommy clued in to the trap immediately and he and John rushed back inside and armed themselves. The police promptly engaged them in a shoot-out with reinforcements from Ballalaba arriving in the afternoon. In the end the bushrangers surrendered.

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During the battle John had sustained a significant injury to his shoulder and tracker Sir Watkin Wynn had also received a major injury to his left arm that would result in amputation. Another policeman, Constable Walsh, had also been injured in the fight. Once the firing had ceased the bushrangers emerged and shook hands with their foes. The Clarke brothers were taken to Bateman’s Bay before being sent to Sydney for trial, charged with wounding Walsh with intent to kill.

Found guilty, the brothers were sentenced to death. On 25 June 1867 Thomas Clarke and his brother John were hanged in Darlinghurst Gaol. The bodies were given to their sisters for burial in Rookwood cemetery.


Further Reading:

The Bloodiest Bushrangers by John O’Sullivan

The Clarke Gang: outlawed, outcast and forgotten by Peter C. Smith

The Clarke Bushrangers: A Clash of Cultures by Judy Lawson

The Romance of Robbery (Opinion)

Everyone loves a good crime story. Most of the world’s most enduring stories relate to criminals, renegades and assorted rogues and their notorious exploits. But what is it that makes these figures so appealing? What is it about the brigand that captures the imagination? Why is it always the outlaws that sell the story and never the victims or the forces of the law?

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This fascination with crime seems to be deeply ingrained across cultures and languages and places. Perhaps it comes down to a fixation on rules and order and what happens when the established rule of law is challenged. In the bible there is an attempt to explain such problematic behaviour with Eve and Adam eating the forbidden fruit whereupon they procure the knowledge of good and evil and introduce sin to the world and thereafter we are told the story of Cain slaying his brother Abel among other morality tales to educate the masses about morality. While this attempts to explain the existence of lawlessness, they’re not exactly historical accounts. Even as late as the middle ages myths were being created to portray outlaws and rogues rather than referring to specific real world instances. Robin Hood is of course the archetype of the noble rogue who opposes corruption and protects the little guy. Debate still rages around whether he was real or not, but it is likely that the stories were at least inspired by actual criminals. To us as enthusiasts of the bushranger stories it is a familiar premise that a band of outlaws who reside in a forest robbing travellers and disrespecting the forces of law and order become heroes to the underdog by dispensing the proceeds of their crimes among their supporters. To reduce the notion down in such a way really highlights how outlaws like the Kelly and Clarke gangs were able to remain at large as long as they did – though the actions weren’t exactly altruistic, as is assumed to be the explanation for Robin Hood, the formula still applies in a bare bones manner. Such myth making highlights the desire to have a hero that challenges and upsets the establishment when it oversteps the mark into tyranny. To this end, some will cling onto the first thing that resembles such a figure.

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A medieval woodcut of Robin Hood circa 1510 (Source)

 

The desire to not only make heroes of villains but to try to become associated with such perceived greatness is commonplace. In London just about everyone knew the Krays or knew someone who did. In America everyone seems to have photographs of outlaws like Billy the Kid and Jesse James floating around in their attic. In Australia it seems like everyone is related to a bushranger in some capacity. How often have you heard phrases like “I’m related to Ned Kelly” or “my great, great grandmother danced with Ben Hall”? Of course this sense of connection can be dubious at times but it helps people ground their beliefs in something tangible (which incidentally is why there’s a market for Ned Kelly tyre flaps). There is also no denying that the general public’s fascination with the lawless of our society is prominent and profitable. A perfect contemporary illustration can be seen in Mark Brandon Read, aka Chopper. When asked by Andrew Denton why, if he didn’t want young people to follow in his criminal footsteps, he wrote nine sequels to his first book glorifying and exaggerating his crimes he replied “Because they sold well.” In fact, Read is the epitome of the glorified criminal. By his own standards he was basically a typical street thug no more worthy of recognition than any other hoodlum, yet he is viewed by many as a hero and all round top bloke largely thanks to his unique appearance and flair for the theatrical. He comes across to many as the terrifying ogre with a heart of gold – like Shrek with a butane torch. His rhetoric about punishing drug dealers, child molesters and any other criminal that attacks the defenceless is perhaps the key to his characterisation. People want to believe the idea that a criminal can act as a defender of the weak and helpless against other crooks because of the desire to see “bad” people redeemed irrespective of their stance on the law and a belief in the innate goodness of the average person (most popular crooks coming from humble, working class or impoverished backgrounds).

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Chopper Read poses with one of his paintings that depicts himself with a Ned Kelly helmet.

 

The idea of these dangerous offenders coming from a place of oppression and exerting power over their oppressors and furthermore using their might to protect the oppressed is the height of power fantasy. This notion of the faceless and oppressive “Man” is usually how the status quo is perceived at any given time by any amount of people owing to the propensity for figures of authority to exert power over others, frequently with little regard for the values or well being of many communities. A figure like Ned Kelly appeals to those who have felt bullied or persecuted in their life. The armour becomes a symbol of defiance and resilience, much like Chopper’s sunglasses, tattoos and moustache became symbolic of dominance and intimidation. In folklore Ben Hall is a tragic anti-hero, forced into crime because external forces broke his life apart (again, the police are portrayed as oppressors by burning his house down and even being personified as Jim Taylor who is in many colloquial accounts a former policeman). He breaks free of the oppression of the law by taking to the bush and ridiculing the police. Similarly, Dan Morgan was seen by many as heroic because he menaced unsympathetic managerial types in the name of the labourers that were in their employ and perceived as being ill treated. The bushranger becomes a beacon to those with an oppressed mentality; that is to say that those who have experienced or are experiencing oppression in some form identify with the romance of a life lived in opposition to oppressive forces. To this end it could reasonably be argued that the fascination with bushrangers is intertwined with a passion for social justice – that is a desire to see justice doled out equally among the adherents of society irrespective of the laws.

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Fearless, free and bold: Figures like Frank Gardiner challenge authority, something many people feel unempowered to do themselves.

 

In the end the fascination with crime and outlaws will never falter while there exists a division between the lawful and the lawless and while there exists a distinct form of inequality or oppression in society. Looking up to an outlaw can say just as much about our strong moral character as our detesting the same can. By ascribing a morally superior motivation to crime it can speak to a desire to see justice carried out in spite of oppressive laws. By admiring an outlaw’s stance against a corrupt authority or their using their power to give hope to those being oppressed it can highlight social justice values that can’t be fed by other figures. In short, the romance of robbery is the desire of the downtrodden, an escapist ideal that places personal integrity as being more virtuous than compliance and seeks a hero to be the mouthpiece of those without a voice.


Sources and further exploration:

Interview with Chopper Read on Enough Rope (Source)

http://time.com/4172673/true-crime-allure/

http://www.newyorker.com/science/maria-konnikova/why-do-we-admire-mobsters

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/men/thinking-man/11257771/Why-do-we-treat-old-criminals-like-national-treasures.html

Spotlight: CAPT. THUNDERBOLT, ALIAS WARD, THE BUSHRANGER. (From our Stroud Correspondent.)

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[From The Maitland Mercury and Hunter River General Advertiser]

Information reached this town, on Thursday last, that Thunderbolt was again on this side of the country, encamped on a mountain situated near the head of the waters of the Little Manning, quite crippled. The informer is a female, who states that she has been with him for the last ten months, that she engaged to attend on Mrs. Thunderbolt during her confinement, after that occurred she wanted to leave, but that he prevented her by keeping her tied up, and it was only the other day she effected an escape. She states that Thunderbolt is hurt in the back from a fall off his horse, also suffering from a bad knee, preventing his getting about without assistance ; that his wife had herself had to put him up on horseback ; his wife always accompanies him (dressed in men’s attire) out to plunder ; that she has a large butcher’s knife fastened on the end of a stick, rides up alongside the cattle and with this instrument she hamstrings the beast, and then kills it. They principally live on beef (very seldom they have flour), wild yams, and wattle gum. The last place they stayed at they remained from June to January, near to a station of a Mr. Parnell, and were never molested. The informant made her escape while Thunderbolt’s wife was out after beef ; she wandered six days through the bush before she came to an inhabited place, and three days from there to Stroud, living on yams and wattle gum during that time. She asserts that there is no one else with Thunderbolt except his wife and three children. He has in his possession ten head of horses, and all are in low condition. This woman is well acquainted with the other bushrangers’ career, and was a schoolmate of Dunn’s.
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The following incident has just crossed our minds, and has not been made public before, which we have every reason to believe has been committed by this villain. About a month ago the premises of Mr. John Higgins, jun., near Gloucester, were broke open during their absence, and a quantity of flour, sugar, tea, &c., stolen therefrom—also one horse from a paddock—and up to the present time no tidings of the robbers or goods have been obtained. This woman now states that on one occasion Thunderbolt stated he was going to stick up Higgins’s station, and was gone three days, and, on his return, brought a quantity of flour, tea, sugar soap, two butchers’ knives, some spoons, and
a pair or two of blankets, one horse branded LL, with star on forehead, and which corresponds with the missing one. This statement agrees so much with the things lost, that there is hardly any reason to doubt but what he is the thief.
Sergeant Finlay, and troopers Cleary and Underwood, of Dungog, started to day in pursuit, the woman also accompanying them in disguise. At Gloucester the police intend to secure the services of a blackfellow, as guide and tracker, and we hope shortly to be able to report a capture of the whole of them.
But we fear that by the time the police arrive at the spot he will have shifted his quarters in some other direction, as it was nine days before the woman reached here.
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Stroud, 23rd March, 1866.
The following extract, from the Manning River News of 24th March, shows that another body of police were also on the track of Thunderbolt:—”Bushranging on the Upper Manning — A hut belonging to Mr. Higgins, who lives near Gloucester, was robbed a few days since, and a report was soon after in circulation that Captain Thunderbolt, being hard up for rations, had taken this method of supplying his most urgent wants.
This person knows the Upper Manning well, having been formerly in Miss Kelly’s employ, when he passed by the less pretentious name of Ward, and it is thought that, finding the country which has recently been honoured with his presence too hot for his comfort, he wishes to rusticate among us for a season. We are glad to say that the police, under the direction of Mr. Garvin, are on his track—that they are accompanied by a black tracker—that the fugitive was not far ahead when last heard from—and that there is at least a fair probability of coming up with him shortly.”
Source:
“CAPT. THUNDERBOLT, ALIAS WARD, THE BUSHRANGER.” The Maitland Mercury and Hunter River General Advertiser (NSW : 1843 – 1893) 29 March 1866: 2.

Mode de Bandit: Bushranger Fashion

Bushranging is a great Australian tradition dating back to the first fleet. In the time since fashions have changed wildly, but strangely there is a very specific look assigned to the bushrangers that doesn’t really reflect the reality. The modern interpretation of the bushranger look is heavily influenced by popular media depictions of the Wild West and stockmen creating a strange mix of Akubras and six shooters as seen in the TV series Wild Boys.

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Wild Boys: About as period accurate as a Seiko wristwatch on a Spartan warrior

 

The Bolters (1788 – 1820)

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This 1815 Thomas Smith illustration depicts the appearance of a beggar in Regency England. Clothing of this kind would have been the typical fashion of the early bushrangers. (Source)

The early bushrangers were usually referred to as “bolters” and tended to be escaped convicts. In the beginning convicts wore civilian clothes but as time rolled on and prisons were established in Australia prison uniforms were introduced. The typical outfit of the bolter was breeches or trousers, stockings, leather shoes, cotton shirt with a high collar, cravat, waistcoat, tail coat or sack coat and stovepipe hat, sometimes a cloth cap. Lucky fellows could even get their hands on fashionable Wellington boots that were favoured by the upwardly mobile for riding horses. These garments, intended for urban living, did not fare well in the unforgiving bushland and thus clothes were frequently the most stolen thing in this era along with basic provisions like blankets and food. A case in point is the villainous Michael Howe who had become a loner and rarely emerged from the bush by the end of his life. He was described as being dressed in rags and a cloak of  kangaroo skins stitched together like a kind of murderous Tasmanian Ben Gunn (a far cry from the leather coat and Akubra look sported by Damon Herriman in The Outlaw Michael Howe).

The Outlaw Michael Howe: While this is a great piece of costume design this outfit is far from accurate.

 

The first true bushrangers (1820 – 1850)

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Men’s blue superfine coat circa 1825 – 1830, much like the coat Jack Donohoe was described as wearing. (Source)

The 1820s saw bushrangers assuming the highwayman role they would become known for. With bushrangers like Brady and McCabe we saw a continuation of the mock-gentleman style. With cutaway frock coats and Wellington boots to compliment top hats and elegant cravats, the Australian highwaymen were dashing and bold. Yet not all bushrangers managed the look. As most were still escaped convicts raggedy prison uniforms were commonplace too – Alexander Pearce being a prime example. The relative difficulty in procuring new clothing meant clothing was a continued target for bushrangers. During this period flamboyant touches were common also with the Ribbon gang decorating their hats with white ribbons, while the Jewboy gang favoured pink ribbons. In fact Teddy the Jewboy (real name Edward Davis) was known for his eccentric style for, in addition to pink ribbons in his hat and horse’s bridle, he was known to wear a ring on every finger  and his arms, hands and face were tattooed. Jack Donohoe wore an elegant blue superfine coat, pleated shirt and black top hat.  By the end of this era of bushranging the idea of what a bushranger was and how they looked had changed dramatically. No longer were they merely bedraggled cut-throats that hid in the bush, now they were elegant highwaymen with manners and style who could ride a horse expertly and vanish into the forest to escape pursuit.

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Matthew Brady was the first “gentleman bushranger”.

 

The golden years (1850 – 1870)

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Prince of Tobeymen: This studio portrait of Frank Gardiner shows off his Hessian boots, pinkie rings, duck coat and cravat – a far cry from the popular image of a bushranger.

The peak of bushranging came about in large part due to the gold rushes in New South Wales and Victoria. It was in this period that bushranging began to appeal to the settlers and not only the convicts looking to escape punishment. Clothing changed quickly in this era. Bushrangers like Martin Cash and Captain Melville adopted stylish long coats, Wellington boots and top hats to continue the trend of imitating the gentry much like those of the previous era, but as farm workers went bush Crimean shirts, moleskin trousers and cabbage-tree hats became more and more common. The stereotypical image of the bushranger manifested in this time mostly due to the sheer number of bushrangers and their adopted fashion. By the early 1860s the typical dress was Crimean shirt, cabbage tree hat or a low-crowned felt hat, Wellington or Hessian boots, moleskin trousers, colourful sashes worn around the waist and either long duck coats or the shorter, lighter sack coat usually worn with only the top button done up. This distinctive look was favoured by outlaws like Gardiner, Gilbert and Hall. Dan Morgan was sometimes described as wearing a California hat and grey poncho early in his career and Bluecap was known to wear a blue eye shade to cope with his opthalmia (in prison he was given spectacles with blue glass lenses for this reason). In many cases bushrangers wore the jewelry they pilfered on the road, sometimes wearing two or three fob watches and many rings as well as lockets. Native-born bushrangers wore their hair long and in many cases the longer it was the prouder they were (perhaps to indicate that they had spent a longer amount of time escaping the remorseless cut of the prison barber’s shears). These bushrangers were often fully equipped for bush faring with satchels and belt pouches within which were carried items like clasp knives, powder horns and bullet molds. With Harry Power’s capture in 1870 the golden era closed and with this cessation the archetype of the bushranger was firmly entrenched in Australian culture.

Flash Johnny Gilbert: His unique fashion was a blend of the hard-riding stockman and the larrikin dandy.

 

The last hurrah (1870 – 1900)

Ned Kelly: Well known for his dress-sense, Kelly is depicted here in the outfit he wore under his armour at Glenrowan.

 

The last period of major bushranging is at the tail end of the 19th century wherein we got bushrangers like the Kelly Gang, Captain Moonlite and the Kenniffs. Fashion in this time had changed wildly from the first era of bushrangers bearing closer resemblance to modern styling. Moleskin and corduroy trousers were still usual as were cabbage tree hats and Crimean shirts, with some slight variations in the mix too. Collarless shirts were the new thing as paper collars could be added in formal settings (in this case the courtroom) and often worn without a tie. High crowned felt hats were also very popular, often with the brim upturned in front. Boots and bluchers with undercut heels were popular and the Kellys took a fancy to “larrikin” heels that were extremely tapered to obscure the foot size in any footprints left behind. Serge jackets, dust coats, strapped riding trousers and oilskins were also introduced to the style adding environmental protection that previous generations of outlaws didn’t have. The Kelly gang in particular enjoyed wearing clothing pilfered from New South Wales police that were well suited to riding such as police boots and skin tight riding trousers. The evolution of fashion enabled bushrangers at this time to have very individualised style rather than a typical look that helped confuse terrified civilians and hard worked police. Many bushrangers cultivated an image to make them stand out and none more so than Ned Kelly who fashioned home made armour to both protect and terrify.

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The Kenniff brothers leaving the courthouse during their trial sporting felt hats with upturned brim popular in the early 1900s.

Later bushrangers followed the trend of highly individualised style. The Kenniffs, Jessie Hickman, the Governor gang and so on did not fit the traditional mold of the bushranger in terms of style, merely dressing in common clothes giving them a rather unremarkable appearance that worked to their advantage. The boy bushrangers of the 1920s would just as likely dress like paperboys as shearers, recognisable as bushrangers only by their actions rather than their look. These diminutive delinquents had grand plans to be the next Ned Kelly but very few of them lasted longer than a week.

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Ned Kelly’s armour: the helmet is a visual shorthand for bushrangers now, but it was only worn on one occasion – the failed Glenrowan campaign.

Bushrangers on film

By the time film came about bushrangers had developed a very specific image in the public consciousness that was translated into the costumes used in the various productions. Typically bushrangers would wear a floppy felt hat, shirt with rolled up sleeves, tall boots and white trousers with a thick belt around the waist, presumably inspired by many of the illustrations in books and newspapers of the time rather than actual descriptions and photographs.

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During the silent film era bushrangers dressed in this way regardless of the time they were alive.

Later films went for more of a cowboy aesthetic in an attempt to cash in on the success of the Western genre. The most conspicuous instance of this is the film Captain Thunderbolt. It wasn’t until the 1970s that Australian period films sought to replicate more accurately the clothes of the period, which we saw in Ben Hall, Ned Kelly and Mad Dog Morgan to varying degrees of fidelity. The Last Outlaw excepted, more recent forays into depicting the bushranging era on screen have fallen into the trap of either looking vaguely right or looking cool such as in the 2003 Ned Kelly with it’s disdain for hats and predilection for cowboy boots.

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Ned Kelly (2003): Ned Kelly (Heath Ledger) and Joe Byrne (Orlando Bloom) bail up the stationmaster at Glenrowan.

2016’s The Legend of Ben Hall prided itself on accuracy in all areas and this is demonstrably true in the costumes. Duck coats, tall boots, grubby outfits and more all match the era perfectly and nothing sums this up better than this image of actor Jack Martin as Ben Hall replicating the famous portrait of the bushranger.

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The fashion of the bushrangers was as varied and ever changing as the bushrangers themselves. Although popular media has typically shown them as looking little more than stockmen with pistols, renewed interest is opening people up to these dramatically unique looking individuals and helping to shine a light on the true lifestyles of these bushranging banditti. The styling of bushrangers always reflects society of the time whether it’s a mocking emulation of the “respectable” classes or hard worn work clothes of the lower classes. In the modern world fashion is so unique and ever changing that from one season to the next you never know how people will dress so how could you hope to spot a bushranger on your travels?

 

Stringybark Creek: Remembering the Fallen

October 26, 2017 marks the 139th anniversary of the police killings at Stringybark Creek, widely regarded as the worst single incident of police killing in Victorian history. Three police officers were killed in the line of duty hunting for Ned and Dan Kelly in dense forest and to this day there remains much controversy surrounding the event. Alas it is impossible to know exactly what happened, but by using testimony from Ned Kelly and Constable McIntyre as well as forensic evidence reported on at the time and analysed since, it becomes easier to piece together a narrative that makes sense. What follows is a condensed narrative of what occurred, not an authoritative account.

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Prelude

After an incident at the Kelly house on 11 Mile Creek on April 15, 1878, involving police officer Constable Alexander Fitzpatrick, Ned Kelly and his youngest brother Dan were wanted for attempted murder. Their mother, brother in law and a family friend had been arrested, tried and imprisoned for their part in the assault while the brothers had fled to the bush. Ned Kelly had allegedly sent correspondence to the authorities stating that he and Dan would give themselves up in exchange for their mother’s release. This offer, if it was received, was rejected out of hand. The Kellys were in no position to bargain.

Meanwhile, in Mansfield Senior Constable Michael Kennedy was engaged in the hunt for the pair, regularly riding through the district and canvassing locals, assisted by Constable Thomas McIntyre. It was on one of these rides that Wild Wright seemingly warned McIntyre that Ned Kelly was not to be trifled with.

[Wright] told me on one occasion that I mentioned the matter to him that he would not betray Ned Kelly for all the money in Australia. He also several times said to me “Ned Kelly is mad.” I pressed him to explain what he meant but he only emphatically reiterated his statement.

It was during this time that the Kelly brothers were living in a hut on Bullock Creek in the Wombat Ranges looking for gold and distilling bootleg whisky in an effort to raise money for a solicitor for their mother. They were joined here by Steve Hart and Joe Byrne for a time, presumably they had been assisting Dan with his digging. The Kellys must have clung to the vain hope that by laying low that the dust would settle, the opposite proved true.

The Hunt

In October Kennedy, now a sergeant,  was informed by Superintendent Sadleir that he was required to take charge of one of two search parties that would try to snare the Kellys in a pincer movement. Kennedy had been selected for his renowned prowess with bush work as much as his leadership qualities. Unfortunately he had no experience with Ned or Dan Kelly at all. Kennedy requested that he be accompanied by McIntyre and his good friend Mounted Constable Michael Scanlan. Sadleir agreed but stipulated they would also be accompanied by Mounted Constable Thomas Lonigan from Violet Town as he could identify Ned Kelly from experience. Kennedy was unimpressed but had no choice. He promptly prepared for the mission by getting information on the forest the gang were supposed to be hiding in from as many people as possible.

When Lonigan received news that he had to join the party in Mansfield he did not welcome it. The incident with Fitzpatrick in April as well as an earlier incident he was involved with in Benalla had asserted just how dangerous Ned Kelly was. Ned Kelly had been arrested for being publicly intoxicated and fled from custody in the Benalla police station, hurtling down the road and around the corner before seeking refuge in the boot maker’s shop. A fight between Ned and the local Constables broke out and in an attempt to control Ned, Lonigan had used an old trick he probably learned during his time in the artillery called “blackballing” wherein he roughly grabbed Ned’s scrotum and held tight, resulting in the trousers ripping at the crotch. Lonigan’s grip on Ned’s testicles was not enough to subdue him but it was clearly enough to cause some damage to Ned’s ego if not his most private parts and gave Ned fuel for yet another in a long line of grudges against policemen. No doubt this was playing heavily on Lonigan’s mind as he set off to Mansfield, leaving behind his adoring wife and four children. It is telling that he returned after a few minutes to say goodbye again, something the normally stoic Irishman would not do.

The police came together in Mansfield and collected supplies as well as practiced bush skills that the majority of the party were unacquainted with. On the morning of the party beginning their mission Kennedy asked McIntyre to fetch the Spencer repeating rifle they had acquired. McIntyre was quite concerned that the rifle was far more overpowered than the task warranted, but Kennedy simply pointed to a copy of Ned Kelly’s mugshot they had been provided and stated “I do not like the look of this man.” As Kennedy and McIntyre packed their bags in the police station, Michael Scanlan was taking breakfast in a nearby establishment with his faithful dog by his side. As he dabbed his voluminous moustache with a napkin he asked a friend to look after the canine in his absence, going on to state “If I don’t come back, you can have my dog.” The party convened outside the police station, Lonigan arriving late for undisclosed reasons, then began on their fateful journey. It was October 25, 1878.

Wombat Ranges

Kennedy had assembled much information from locals about the area they were travelling through including waterways and crossings. However, Kennedy played his cards close to his chest despite frequent inquisition from McIntyre.

Some way into the journey McIntyre spotted a tiger snake on the track. With his revolver he blasted the reptile’s head off and gloated to his comrade “First blood Lonigan!” – a comment that it would not be hard to imagine going down like a lead balloon. McIntyre noted that Kennedy seemed agitated as they travelled through the forest. Could it be that his knowledge of the bush allowed him to sense that they were being followed?

Indeed, Ned had been patrolling the forest as a matter of course and had come across the police horses’ hoofprints in the soil. Perhaps thinking of information that had been given to him via the bush telegraph about three police parties on their way to take out he and his brother, even equipped with special straps designed to facilitate carrying corpses on a pack horse, Ned resolved to track the troopers. His intimate knowledge of the terrain and scrub enabled him to follow the police close enough to see what they were up to without being spotted.

When the police reached a clearing near an old hut by the banks of Stringybark Creek, Kennedy grabbed the Spencer repeater and stalked wordlessly off into the bush where they had just been while Lonigan and Scanlan set up the tents. McIntyre was befuddled but did what he could to give the others a hand. Kennedy was gone for some time and was quite perturbed upon returning when McIntyre gave him the third degree about wandering off alone. Kennedy thrust the Spencer into McIntyre’s hands and told him to go and find some kangaroos to shoot.

With the camp set up the police established a fire and began to eat. The bread was unfortunately too sour and the men were unanimous in their distaste. McIntyre offered to hunt some fowl and kangaroos in the morning to supplement their supplies. They all slept that night fairly soundly, exhausted from their trek. Little did the men in their tents realise that they were within a mile of their targets.

26 October

The next morning Kennedy elected to take Scanlan on a scout nearby but stated not to panic if they weren’t back before dark. Scanlan equipped himself with the Spencer repeater and the two friends left in a jovial mood with a packed lunch and quite probably Scanlan, a devil for drink when given the opportunity, had a flask concealed about his person to keep their spirits up figuratively and literally. Lonigan busied himself by reading The Vagabond Papers wherein Harry Power was interviewed in Pentridge, in part stating ominously that he believed that due to his temper Ned Kelly would have committed murder if he hadn’t stopped him. No doubt this did nothing to alleviate Lonigan’s fear and he was noticeably skittish throughout the day. McIntyre proceeded on a hunting mission as promised the previous night. McIntyre clearly considered something of a black-powder-wielding William Tell after the incident with the tiger snake. Heading close to the creek, McIntyre used a double barrelled shotgun to kill a selection of parrots and attempted to nab a couple of flighty kangaroos. His inexperience in bush work was never more evident than at this point for the sound of the shots travelled far quickly thanks to the awesome acoustics at Stringybark Creek. It would appear this allowed the Kelly brothers, Joe Byrne and Steve Hart to pinpoint the location of the police camp with ease.

After McIntyre had returned to camp Lonigan was even edgier than before. He made comment to McIntyre that he could hear movement in the undergrowth but McIntyre dismissed it as animals. In fact the Kelly Gang (as they would later be known) had found the camp and were laying low in the scrub to scope the site out, using the scrub for cover. McIntyre decided that billy tea was the solution to calm Lonigan’s nerves and he hoped the smoke from the fire would help guide Kennedy and Scanlan back. Lonigan strapped on his pistol belt and tended the horses then moved back across the camp. The two officers stood at the intersection of two logs by the fire. At this moment the desperadoes presented themselves.

Emerging from the tall grass and ferns surrounding the camp, Ned strode forward with his brother and companions and bellowed “Bail up!” while leveling a shabby modified carbine at the troopers. McIntyre put his hands out and Lonigan, behind McIntyre, jogged backwards, clutching at his revolver with his eyes on the new arrivals.  As Dan, Joe and Steve covered McIntyre, Ned turned to his right and fired. In a flash Ned Kelly’s carbine discharged. McIntyre flinched but did not dare take his eyes off the bushrangers. Out of the warped muzzle sped what seems to have been a lead ball quartered into tiny pieces of deadly shrapnel. The largest piece of shrapnel pierced the outside of Lonigan’s left thigh, as the rest sliced into his left forearm, right temple and right eye. Lonigan reeled and staggered, tumbling to the ground gasping “Oh Christ! I’m shot!” as hot, jagged shrapnel and bone fragments bored its way into his brain. The immeasurable agony caused Lonigan to breathe with hideous, laboured breaths as he rose and plunged into the dirt until finally his body flopped belly up and all movement ceased.  Within a moment Mounted Constable Thomas Lonigan was dead, aged thirty two years leaving behind a widow as well as a son and three daughters. Ned strode over and inspected the corpse muttering “What made the fellow run?” as if unaware that seeing a man approaching with a gun could instill enough fear to cause flight.  Dan said in disbelief “He was a plucky fellow, did you see how he went at his revolver?” McIntyre was overwhelmed but would later state that he did not believe the bushrangers had descended upon the camp with the intention to take life, however Ned’s actions had forced a situation that would result in death as an inevitability.

The gang proceeded to raid the tents and Joe Byrne sat and smoked a pipe with McIntyre. Ned seemed incredibly agitated, pacing around and rambling. Joe drank the billy tea with McIntyre, making sure that the constable drank first in case it was poisoned. The gang made short work of McIntyre’s fresh bread, which gave him a slightly perverse sense of happiness to have his culinary skills appreciated. Ned spoke at length with McIntyre who asked many questions about his motives and made a point to mention that his life was insured as he had no beneficiaries in Victoria in the event of his death. Ned instructed McIntyre to force Kennedy and Scanlan to surrender so that no further blood should be shed. McIntyre agreed and Ned refused Dan’s suggestion to cuff McIntyre believing that the policeman’s word was enough to entice his colleagues to surrender. This would prove to be flawed logic at best.

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The scouts return

Late in the afternoon as storm clouds rolled in, the gang had raided the tents and were taking advantage of the new weapons and ammunition they had acquired, Ned taking a particular liking to the double-barrelled shotgun. Suddenly McIntyre could hear voices approaching the camp. Kennedy and Scanlan were returning from a fruitless scout but were in good spirits. Before their horses reached the clearing the Kelly Gang hid themselves, Ned dropping down behind the log McIntyre was seated on the others using the tents as cover and training their guns on McIntyre. As the riders appeared McIntyre tried to remain calm and walked to them and stated “You’d better surrender, the Kellys have got us surrounded.” Kennedy was skeptical as he glanced around the camp for signs of anything amiss. Placing his hand on his holster he began “Well, in that case…” but never got to finish the thought.

Ned Kelly rose from cover and demanded the police throw down their arms. Kennedy drew his revolver and dismounted. Scanlan tried to unsling the Spencer repeater from his upper body but only managed to get it part way. The police opened fire, Kennedy firing his pistol over the rump of his horse, Scanlan firing from the hip. The gang, now fully equipped, fired back. A shot to Scanlan’s right side knocked him off his horse, the bullet shattering his rib and decimating his lung before lodging in his sternum. He hit the ground hard and struggled to get up, shakily getting on all fours as a flurry of bullets hit him in the right hip and shoulder. Kennedy’s horse broke away in the chaos and McIntyre grabbed it as it bolted in terror, leaping onto its back. Speeding away from the camp, he could not see the drama unfolding. In that moment the jolly 34 year-old County Kerry native collapsed into the dust, dying from internal haemorrhaging. Scanlan died as a bachelor with no next of kin in Australia.

As McIntyre fled the scene in an attempt to get help Dan Kelly could be heard shouting “Shoot that fellow!” and in a torrent of hot lead the horse was shot, causing McIntyre to be flung off the creature’s back. McIntyre regained control over the wounded beast and pressed on. Branches struck McIntyre mercilessly as the horses galloped through the forest until a particularly hefty branch caught McIntyre by surprise and hurled him out of the saddle. Covered in gashes and bruises and bleeding from just about every outlet on his head from the reckless flight he proceeded on foot. Ned Kelly would later joke that McIntyre was cowardly for his escape. As darkness descended upon the Wombat Ranges and storm clouds unfurled, McIntyre sought temporary refuge in a wombat hole where he wrote furiously in his notebook and would stay for part of the night aching from his injuries.

Meanwhile at the police camp, Ned was chasing Kennedy on foot in the same direction McIntyre had fled. Armed with the shotgun, Ned tried to take Kennedy down, but the sergeant was full of fight. Ducking behind trees for cover, Kennedy fired at Ned with his Webley, one shot passing through his opponent’s beard, another passing through his sleeve close to his ribs. A blast from Ned hit Kennedy in the right arm, and blood began pouring down his sleeve. Kennedy’s fingers lost strength and he could no longer hold his revolver. It fell with a quiet thud in the scrub. The pain from the shot was almost paralysing as he staggered on short of breath. He could hear Ned’s footsteps growing closer. Was he still running? Was he bothering to take cover? Kennedy turned to see where his pursuer was and a blast from Ned Kelly struck Kennedy under the arm. Kennedy hit the ground hard. As Ned approached he found the Webley, the grip slick with blood. Wordlessly he realised what he had done. He would later recount that moment in the Jerilderie letter:

I fired again with the gun as he slewed around to surrender, I did not know he had dropped his revolver. The bullet passed through the right side of his chest and he could not live or I would have let him go. Had they been my own brothers I could not help shooting them or else let them shoot me, which they would have done had their bullets been directed as they intended them.

Back at the camp the others inspected the body of Scanlan, Joe taking the ring from Scanlan’s lifeless hand. Was this symbolic? Was this a trophy? Or was it just a matter of stealing jewellery he liked the look of? Dan and Steve seemed not to have had any real interest in raiding corpses. Their accounts of the day were never to be recorded.

What occurred between Ned and the dying sergeant is subject of much speculation. It would be reasonable to imagine with the little life he had left Kennedy spoke to Ned of his family and his fears about what might happen to them. It seems that, at least in some accounts, Kennedy had enough time and strength to write a letter to his wife and entrust Ned with taking the letter to his wife with his watch. Perhaps such a moment may have provided Ned with enough time to resolve and prepare to finish him off. Ned placed the muzzle of his weapon to Kennedy’s chest and fired. Satisfied that Kennedy was out of his misery he trudged the half mile back to the camp and fetched one of the police cloaks, which he took back and draped over the corpse.

As night enveloped the forest, McIntyre tried to navigate through the wilds using the stars and a compass. In crossing a stream his boots had become waterlogged and he was forced to remove them for the remainder of the journey. The next day he was delirious from exhaustion and injury to the point of hallucination and sought refuge in a hut for a time before continuing on to Mansfield.

At the police camp the gang finished raiding the tents and corpses and set fire to all they could not carry before leaving. Clearly Ned Kelly considered the outcome to have been justified by the apparently murderous intentions of the police. Convinced right to his dying day that the police had not meant to apprehend the brothers but to put them down like rabid wolves he would remonstrate:

It would not be wilful murder if they packed our remains in, shattered into a mass of animated gore, to Mansfield. They would have got great praise and credit as well as promotion, but I’m reckoned a horrid brute because I had not been cowardly enough to lie down for them under such trying circumstances and insults to my people. Certainly their wives and children are to be pitied, but they must remember those men came into the bush with the intention of scattering pieces of me and my brother all over the bush and yet they know and acknowledge I have been wronged and my mother and four or five men lagged innocent.

McIntyre would return with a party led by Sub-Inspector Pewtress to reclaim the corpses of Lonigan and Scanlan. Kennedy’s heavily decomposed remains would not be found until five days after the massacre. The widows of Lonigan and Kennedy would be given a pension but it was hardly compensation for losing their husbands and the fathers of their children. The three men are buried in Mansfield cemetery, a quiet spot comfortably away from the main thoroughfares of the town. In 1880 a monument was unveiled to the memory of the policemen. In the unveiling of the monument Captain Standish, chief commissioner of police, remarked:

…in the Police department there was not a better or truer, or more trust-worthy and energetic member of the force than Sergeant Kennedy ; and it was with sincere sorrow that he received the announcement of his sad and untimely fate. It was well known that in his encounter with the outlaws he behaved most gallantly, and fought to the bitter end against overpowering odds. Constables Scanlan and Lonigan were also good and deserving men ; and the brutal and revolting manner in which they were shot down naturally sent a thrill of terror through the whole community. It was therefore the more surprising that the perpetrators of the fearful crime had met with so much strange sympathy and material assistance from many persons of that district. It must of course be satisfactory to fellow colonists to know that the legislature had made substantial provision for the widows and orphans of these brave fellows who lost their lives in the discharge of their duty. He sincerely hoped that the mellowing hand of time would soothe the great affliction which had befallen Mrs. Kennedy and Mrs. Lonigan. (Hear, hear.) He could not omit gratefully to acknowledge the warm-hearted sympathy of the New South Wales police in subscribing so liberally to the memorial inaugurated that day. It was a proof, if need be, of the cordial feeling which, he trusted, would always exist between the police of the two colonies. Once more he desired to convey to the residents of the Mansfield district his earnest appreciation of their generosity and sympathy.
(Source: Illustrated Australian News 8 May 1880)
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Joe Byrne and the Kelly Brothers (opinion)

Having spent a lot of time researching the Kelly story as a hobby, then examining it more in-depth as a screenwriter, I found the nature of Joe Byrne’s relationship to the Kelly brothers intriguing. It is a matter of fact that Joe Byrne was considered by Ned Kelly to be his greatest friend, describing him as “cool and firm as steel”, but there are still many mysteries around the friendship. How did they meet? How did Ned’s relationship to Joe compare to the relationship between Dan and Joe? Do Joe’s actions and words to Ned at Glenrowan demonstrate that the two weren’t as close as Ned suggested?

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Joe Byrne

In order to ascertain how the Kelly brothers met Joe Byrne and, by association, Aaron Sherritt, we must look for the earliest possible provable instance of their paths crossing. In early 1876 Joe and Aaron were arrested for assault. They had been skinny dipping in a dam when they were approached by a Chinese man, Ah On, and Aaron believed he had stolen from their piled up gear. Aaron, probably spurred on by Joe, threw rocks at the unfortunate Chinese man and badly wounded him when one of the rocks collided with his head. They were held in Beechworth awaiting their hearing, which was on February 13. They were committed to stand trial at the circuit court on February 28. At the same time Daniel Kelly, the teenage tearaway who was the youngest of the Kelly boys, was about to be put through the same proceedings for the offence of stealing a saddle. The incident was innocuous enough: a saddle had gone missing from a hotel and Dan was later seen riding with the saddle on his horse. Dan claimed he had bought the saddle from a man named Roberts and produced a receipt for £1 as evidence. Given that the two cases were to be heard in the same court on the same day it’s probable that Dan would have been in the holding cell at the back of the court room with Joe and Aaron. Perhaps they got to talking about the charges and Dan drew a parallel between the situation Joe and Aaron were in and the assault case his big brother Ned went through because of a Chinese miner named Ah Fook years prior. Joe would have gotten along easily with Dan as he was known for being personable. Perhaps they agreed to hit the pub afterwards if their cases were dismissed. It’s important to note that Ned was present to offer his brother support as a witness. Given that both cases resulted in a ‘not guilty’ verdict a celebration would have been in order and alcohol is the greatest social lubricant.

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Beechworth Courthouse: Was this where Joe Byrne and Aaron Sherritt had their first fateful meeting with Ned and Dan Kelly?

So given that Dan and Joe were acquainted first, could this have meant that Joe identified as Dan’s friend rather than Ned’s? Certainly Ned refers to Joe and Steve Hart in the Jerilderie letter as his brother’s mates. It is also true that according to reports of sightings of the gang Dan was often spotted with Joe whereas Ned was only really seen with Joe when all four gang members were seen together according to police reports. One could assume that this was some strategy from Ned to keep someone in the gang from doing something they shouldn’t, but more likely it was simply a matter of who worked well together. If we account for the suggestion that Ettie Hart was Ned’s girlfriend at the time, that may also provide reason for Ned spending more time with Steve, though that’s a topic for another discussion.

When the gang decided that Aaron Sherritt needed to be exterminated, Ned went to Glenrowan with Steve Hart while Joe was accompanied by Dan to Aaron’s hut. It is probable that the decision to murder Sherritt was Joe’s as he had the most grievance with Aaron’s supposed betrayal. No doubt Ned would have had misgivings but saw it as an opportunity to escalate whatever it was he was trying to kickstart at Glenrowan, whether it was a full-blown war between the bushrangers and the police, or a republic as some have suggested despite this claim relying solely on anecdotal evidence. As unstable as Ned’s mindset was at the beginning of 1880, Joe’s was clearly more so as he had spent months testing Aaron and Jack Sherritt, on one occasion meeting Jack in the bush looking pale, thin, jittery and having pushed his horse so far his spurs were bloodied, on another occasion luring Aaron to the puzzle ranges for a rendezvous but proved to be a no-show (perhaps he was observing from afar to see if Aaron would show up?).
It is no secret that Joe was an opium addict and given that the months after the robbery at Jerilderie had resulted in no more heists and therefore depleted funds, it is unlikely that Joe would have been able to score the hit that he would have been craving regularly if at all. Opium is an extremely addictive drug and the withdrawal symptoms are severe. Weight loss, fever, diarrhoea, nausea, depression, paranoia and violent mood swings are typical. This would explain Joe’s threatening letters to Detective Ward and Aaron Sherritt, as well as his obsession with Aaron and Jack’s fidelity to him and the gang. That Ned would buy into the aggression of a man suffering severe opiate withdrawal enough to factor in his revenge fantasy when plotting his Glenrowan campaign speaks much to the desperation that Ned was experiencing that had pushed him into even contemplating mass murder.

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The Murder of Sherritt: Was it opium withdrawals that made Joe Byrne murder his best friend?

Finally, it seems pertinent to highlight Joe’s demeanour at Glenrowan. He was sullen and quiet the majority of the time and clearly had a short temper. He conspired with Steve and Dan to leave the inn, though they never got the opportunity. That he would even consider abandoning Ned alludes to him not being quite as firm a supporter of Ned as has been previously thought. Furthermore, Joe’s famous line about the armour:

I told you this bloody armour would bring us to grief!

Implies that Joe had had little faith in Ned’s lofty plans at Glenrowan. It is reported that after the initial volleys of gunfire, Ned and Joe went to the breezeway between the inn and detached kitchen and spoke at length. What they spoke about can’t be certain. Perhaps it was during this exchange that Joe revealed that he had spoken to the others about leaving the inn. If so, had he painted Dan or Steve as the instigators? This might shine a light on Ned’s resentment of the pair after his capture. Could it be that he believed they had tried to turn Joe against him? No doubt with Ned’s alcohol muddied and sleep deprived mind it wouldn’t have taken much to convince him, having previously had a very public argument with Dan about the very same matter.

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Joe Byrne’s armour: It is clear from his interactions with Ned that Joe was not keen on the gang’s signature ploughshare armour.

Unfortunately, this remains merely theoretical. Without clear evidence, such as first hand accounts by Joe Byrne or Dan Kelly to fill in some of the blanks we can never get a full understanding of the relationships and genesis of one of the most renowned bushranging teams in history. Thus it falls on historians, both professional and amateur, to fill in those blanks as well as possible. Certainly examining the gaps in the narrative opens the door to a great deal of speculation and some very interesting interpretations.