Chapter 9 – Pioneers of the Wilderness

On 7th Feb 1877, at the Wesleyan Church, Clare, South Australia, Joseph Dangerfied 2, my great-grandfather, married Margaret Thoday, second daughter of Henry and Maria Thoday who were my great-great grandparents.

The Thoday family were a very artistic family and Margaret was a music teacher. The men were miners and farmers and several of the girls were tailors and dressmakers.

Joseph and Margaret Dangerfield had eight children including twins who died as infants. Their children were William Charles (Charles), Alice Maud (Maud), Joseph Henry (Harry), Elizabeth Lilian (Bessie), Elijah (Lige) and twins Martha and Mary (died as infants) and finally, Edward Howard (Howard).

Alice Maud (Maud) Dangerfield was my grandmother and although she died in 1931, eight years before I was born in 1939 and so I never got to meet her, she was still a very important person in my life.

From a very young age I developed strong feelings of love towards her and always regretted those eight years between her death and my birth that prevented us from meeting.

Today I am going back to the year 1930 to meet my beloved grandmother where she lies in a bed in a small room attached to the Williams home in Pinnaroo, just over the road from the Pinnaroo Primary School.

My grandmother, Alice Maud Wiliams (Dangerfield) lies quietly under the blankets on the bed in the small room attached to the main house. Her frail body hardly makes a bump in the smooth lines of the quilt cover on the bed. I feel an overwhelming sadness at the sight of her lying there. I haven’t yet looked at her face because my eyes are taking in the one vibrant living part of her that I can see, her beautiful, wavy, strawberry blonde hair as it spreads across her pillow. Once it was a bright copper color but now is a much lighter shade but clearly still more red than blonde.

My eyes travel finally to her face, imagined and thought about so often over the years. It is a sweet oval with skin like alabaster, smooth and unblemished; straight eyebrows and a firm nose, pale lips. A gentle face and peaceful. “This is my grandma!” I say to myself with a sigh.

Grandma has tuberculosis. A few days ago she was being cared for at Kalyra in Adelaide but so badly did she want to be home with her family that her doctor relented and so they brought her home to Pinnaroo. Grandma’s room was built by my grandfather Richard and great grandfather Joseph to cater for Maud’s special needs. It is a wooden room with walls that are only 4’6” high. The gap between the top of the wall and the ceiling is enclosed with wire-mesh to keep the room well-aired and minimize the chance of infection for her family. There are shutters on the inside to keep out the wind and rain and they are opened and closed by a long metal rod that hooks onto the window sill below.

No-one but her daughters Jean and Connie come into her room as a preventative measure to limit the possibility of the tuberculosis spreading to other family members. Jean prepares and feeds grandma all her meals and Connie helps out as required. There is a big aluminum bucket in the corner with handles on it which Jean fills with hot water first thing every morning and puts towels on her mother’s bed and sponges her all over and then dresses her and feeds her breakfast. Jean’s workload is very heavy so her father has hired two boys to do the work that Jean used to do in the dairy. Jean mostly does the housework and looks after her mother and Connie helps out before and after school. Joseph does the cooking and everyone helps with delivering the milk.

I place a chair near grandma’s head and sit down carefully, looking down at her face with tears in my eyes, feeling an overwhelming sense of grieving because I know she will not live much longer, maybe a year or less.

“Grandma, are you awake?’ I whisper. Maud opens her eyes and looks up at me. Her eyes are a green-blue and I feel as though I am melting into them.

“Are you the nurse, dear?’ Her voice is gentle, lilting, a singsong kind of voice.

“No, dear, I am not the nurse. I am your granddaughter and my name is Fay.”

“Granddaughter,”Maude smiled. “It would be so lovely to have a granddaughter but my own daughters are not even married yet, but it makes me feel happy at the thought of having a grandchild’

“How are you feeling, are you well enough to talk, grandma?”I ask anxiously.

“I feel quite good today. I am just so happy to be home here with my family. Have you come to see Jean, my daughter?”grandma smiled up at me.

“It is you I would like to talk to grandma.” I reached out to take her hand in mine. I stroked her hair, feeling its softness and she smiled up at me and squeezed my hand a little.

“Don’t feel sorry for me, dear, I am not afraid of dying. I’m ready to go. It is just my poor dear children that I worry about,”a tear wells up from her eye and slowly moves down her cheek. I lean over and kissed it away.

“Don’t worry about your children, grandma, they are going to be all right, all three of them.”I want her to die in peace and content.

“Only God and the angels know that,”she said, “maybe you are an angel?”Grandma looks up at me trustingly.

“Maybe I am dear; maybe I am.”I love her so much.

“Will you keep me company? I feel peaceful with you here beside me. Jean and Connie are so busy and I lie here each day, just longing to talk to someone; about my life, about the future, about the kingdom.”Grandma eyes seem to gaze off into the distance.

“I would love to hear about your life, Grandma. I have so many questions.”I study her face hoping I was not overtiring her but she seems very calm and peaceful.

“Can you tell me something about your early life, grandma?’

“Oh yes, the early days, those happy carefree days, when I was young. What would you like to know my dear?” Maud asks.

“I’d like to know about your father and mother, your brother’s and sisters and where you lived during your early years as long as it doesn’t tire you too much.”

“Just talking to you won’t overtire me, it is the dressing and washing and eating and having my hair brushed that tires me. But lying here, holding your hand is so peaceful and comforting.” She smiles again.

“My parents are Joseph and Margaret Dangerfield (Thoday). My father is still alive and he lives here with us but my mother is now dead.’

“And what about your grandfather and grandmother Joseph and Sarah (Elliott), did you see them while you were growing up?”I asked.

“We saw them when we could. They lived in McLaren Vale and then in the northern part of the State around Rochester and Kadina. They had eleven children. Their children were Henry, Joseph, Ellen, Charles, James, Edward, Thomas, Ellen, Emma, Albert, Annie Rose and Bert. When they all married we had so many cousins. Joseph and Margaret were my parents and Mum’s parents were Henry and Maria Thoday. We lived in many different places over the years but mostly in places north-west of Adelaide. I was 25 years old when my grandpa Joseph 1 died; I was 34 years old when I married and grandma died when I was 38 years old.

“And what year were you born?”I asked.

“I was born on 2 Aug 1879 at Yacka in South Australia.’

“And your brother’s and sisters? Tell me about them.

“William Charles (Charles) Dangerfield was the eldest and he was born in 1877 at Donnybrooke, Clare, SA. I came next in 1879 and I was born at Yacka. Then in 1881 Joseph Henry (Harry) Dangerfield was born, and he was born at Bookabie near Fowler’s Bay on the Great Australian Bight. Dad moved the family so often. Bessie was born in 1883 and then Lige in 1885, both were born at Ninnes which is about 30 m from Kadina. In 1887 the twins were born, poor little Mary and Martha, but Mary only lived 11 weeks and Martha 7 months. We were all so sad to lose them. We were living at Port Broughton then and were still there when Howard was born in 1889.”

“Did you stay long at Port Broughton?”

“We were there until 1892 and at that time Dad took up a farm at Bookabie near Fowler’s Bay on the Great Australian Bite. We travelled overland from Port Broughton to Bookabie. Dad had a wagon and team and a horse and dray. My brother Charlie was 15 years old and he drove the dray. We all have lots of memories of the time we spent at Bookabie. Howard was only 3 years old when we were there and so his memories began at Bookabie. He remembers seeing the wild camels that used to come into Fowler’s Bay for water and he loved the roar of the surf at Nantabee Beach and he remembers Sambo the chief of the local blacks. They were carefree happy days for all of us.”

“How long did you live at Bookabie?”

“We were two years at Bookabie and then in 1894 Dad moved us back to Port Broughton travelling with all our stuff on the steamer ‘Helen Nicol’ because Mum couldn’t face the thought of travelling overland. When we got to Port Broughton Dad went into partnership with a friend Ned Campbell when they got a contract lumping wheat from farmers’ wagons and loading lighters which took the wheat out to vessels waiting at anchorage out in the gulf.”

“Were you still at school at this time?”

“No, I had my last year at Bookabie when I was 14 and then in 1894 we went to Port Broughton. Howard was 5 years old and he started school and Bessie who was 11 years old became assistant to the school teacher at the school. I stayed home to help Mum get settled. Howard was in trouble on his very first day at the school; he was such a troublesome boy at times.’

“Yes I believe he was, but he was probably just very full of life. So where did you go after that?’

“The next year, 1895 Dad moved us again. This time to Carey Gully near Uraidla in the hills East of Adelaide to take over a market garden there. Howard attended Uraidla school. We were there for about 3 years until Mum decided that the weather at Carey’s Gully did not suit her and so we moved to Kadina. For a time we lived behind Burden’s old shop at Kadina, near the railway station until we found a house on Taylor street and moved there, then Howard attended the Kadina Public School. I don’t think the moving from school to school was very good for Howard’s education; he was always in trouble. He used to taunt the children in the Catholic School there on his way to and from school and because of that he often had to ‘run the gauntlet’ on the way home from school.”

“How did you cope with having to move home so often?

“I didn’t mind too much. I understood that Dad didn’t have much choice. In those days if you didn’t have work then you didn’t eat. We had to go wherever Dad could find work or some way of making a living. I guess we just got used to it. Mum just accepted it and we had to do the same.”

“So what then?’

“Dad found work in Broken Hill and he and Mum moved there in 1898. Maud, Bess and Howard stayed behind in Kadina until suitable accommodation could be found in Kadina. Howard stayed for a time with Uncle George and Emma Thomas in a suburb of Kadina called Newtown. Then for a while Howard stayed with Uncle George Thoday and Aunt Edie Thoday but then Dad told us he had found somewhere for us all to live in Broken Hill so we moved just as soon as we could pack. In Broken Hill we shifted from one house to another to find a suitable type of dwelling. First we moved to Crystal Street opposite the Block 14 mine, then to a larger house at the corner of Argent and Iodide Streets. Howard began attending the North Broken Hill Public School. From there we moved to Mica Street near Iodide street but the house was too small so we shifted to a place known as Renowdens on Iodide street close to Mica Street. This place was too large, and so we sublet two rooms to other tenants. This didn’t work out so we asked them to move. Dad finally purchased a place on Lane Street, North Broken Hill between the North Post Office and Murton Street. Howard’s walk to school was quite a short one from here as the school was in Chapel street only one street away. Once again we were all living together in the one home on Lane Street. We were in Broken Hill for about 6 years, from 1898 to 1903 so it was a fairly stable period for us except that in 1901 while we were in Broken Hill Howard had an accident which gave us quite a setback for a time. He was playing marbles with some of the boys from his school and he ran really fast into a wire across a gate and knocked himself unconscious and didn’t wake up for days. It took him such a long time to get back to anything like normal after that.”

“That must have been hard for your Mum.”

“Yes it was. It was hard for us all, but Mum was very upset and worried. Howard was 12 years old at this time and after he got his school certificate, he left school. My brother Charles had farmed with Dad while we were at Bookabie but when we moved he went to Broken Hill to work in the mines. Then in 1902 a group of Christadelphians came up to Broken Hill and gave lectures on the Bible. My brother Charlie went to listen and became convinced that what they taught was the Truth. The family were worried that Charles might become involved with some strange ‘sect’ so we all decided to go to the lectures to try and set him straight. In the end we became convinced that the Christadelphian teachings were true so in 1903 Mum and Bessie and I also were baptized. From then on the Dangerfield name became quite well known in Christadelphia.’

“So when did you leave Broken Hill?’

“In 1903 my father Joseph and brothers, Harry and Charles, applied for a scrub farm from the government in the Koppio area of Eyre Peninsula and were granted a lease over sections 182,183 and 184 of the hundred Koppio. Our land adjoined the southern side of land that Friedrich Laube and his sons Fred and Charlie took up and soon the two families became not only neighbors but good friends. Dad and Lige and Howard left Broken Hill to travel overland to the new farm which was on the western slope of a range of hills which runs from Port Lincoln to a little above Lipson. When Fred and Charlie Laube’s sister, Emma moved to the Laube farm to help Lottie Fred’s wife take care of her young family, it wasn’t long before my brother Harry Dangerfield took an interest in her but it was not until 1910 that they married.’

“How long did you stay on the farm at Koppio?

“We were at Koppio until about 1907. Those years from 1904 to 1907 were some hard years for our family. It started in 1904 when my grandfather Joseph 1 died at Wallaroo. It was the end of an era and the farm was not doing so well. In 1907 Dad took on a number of scrub rolling contracts to provide the finance to keep the farm going and my brother Harry left the mines at Broken Hill and joined Dad on the farm and becoming part owner and also driving a team in a scrub roller. Then my brother ‘Lige’ who had always been a sickly boy contracted tuberculosis and Mum and Dad sent him to the Tynte St Institute in North Adelaide where he was cared for by the caretaker’s family. But at age 22 Lige died and that was really the end for Mum. I remember I was 28 years old at this time. Mum didn’t want to stay on the farm any more. She felt so isolated. There was no railway in those days and it was a trip of 19 miles each way to get anything to or from Tumby Bay. Dad decided to sell the farm and come back to the civilized side of Spencer’s Gulf.

“Did you manage to sell the farm.’

“Yes, we did. We had an auction at the farm of all stock and machinery and we moved out after that because a buyer had been found for the property. We left Tumby Bay bound for Wallaroo in the steamer ‘Bullara’ and said farewell to Eyre Peninsula on 12th February 1907. We stayed a while in Adelaide while Dad looked around for another farm. He finally located a place of 4,500 acres seven miles east of Murray Bridge. But we ended up with only a portion of this land and had to share farm an adjoining property which proved very unsatisfactory so again decided to sell our farm. At this time Harry and Howard had to cut spring backs to make some extra money.”

In 1908 we found a buyer for the block and then took over a farm of 900 acres on shares with Hermann Koch, eight miles northwest of Pinnaroo. Dad used the same method of removing from Murray Bridge to Pinnaroo that we had adopted from Adelaide to Murray Bridge. Dad planted our first crop on the new farm in 1908. I was 30 years old in 1908 and it was in this year that my brother Charles married Esther Maud Cooper in Melbourne. For the next five years things went well. Good crops made it possible to buy out the farm from H Kock. Then Dad took over an adjoining farm and we now had over 1800 acres to work on. All the land had been cleared and we had 600 acres under crop with hopes of making a splash in 1914.”

“On 21st April 1909 my brother Harry purchased Section 113, Hundred of Pinnaroo an area of 917 acres at Parilla Well about 20 kilometers north-west of Pinnaroo in the South Australian Mallee. This is where he was living and farming when he finally married Emma Laube on 5th Oct 1910 at Caltowie. Also in 1910 my brother Charles and Esther had their first baby, a girl, Winifred Selma Dangerfield and in that same year also my grandmother Maria Thoday died. Later in 1911 ownership of Section 114 of 916 acres was transferred to my father Joseph. While Harry and Emma’s house was being built they lived in an iron shed next to the home of my mother and father, Joseph and Margaret. Harry’s brother Howard, and brother-in-law Fred Arthur, helped in the building of the house and the development of the farm. They dug limestone from the property for the walls and burned limestone in a simple furnace to make lime for the mortar. It was a tough life clearing the scrub, burning and grubbing stumps and coping with dry times that were so common in the Mallee. In 1912 my brother Howard met met Charlotte Maud (Tot) Offler. He married Tot but then he had to go back to Pinnaroo almost immediately after he married Tot because Dad needed him urgently to work on the farm. There was no honeymoon for them.”

“After six bumper years on the farm, 1914 brought the worst drought ever known in SA. Howard had to go and work on a railway being built between Pinnaroo and Murrayville and many local farmers had to do the same. Dad stayed on the farm and reaped the harvest – only 19 bags of wheat from that 600 acres that had been sown. That meant there was not enough grain to sow the next crop, so more had to be bought to supply the deficiency.”

I looked up and noticed that the sun’s rays were slanting through the mesh screen.

“Grandma, you must be tired, I think I will leave you now and return tomorrow when you are feeling rested.” I leaned over her bed and kissed her on the cheek and smoothed a strand of hair that had fallen over her forehead.

“That would be nice, dear. Please do come again because I have enjoyed your visit so much. It is so good to have some company.”