Friday, March 25, 2011

The Young Constable "bagels and tuna"

* a collection of stories and memories, in no particular order, from the life and times of John Clarke, who served as a policeman in the Australian Police Force, a great practical joker, he also had a great affinity with people and wildlife, was a champion swimmer, snooker player, loved golf, still loves fishing and is also an artist. I hope you enjoy his recollections - cheers, karin (his daughter)
- - - -


The young constable is one of the Century's innocents.  He has no malice in him.  He goes about his business in a quiet and private way, it's just that life's circumstances and strange and weird incidents have a habit of catching up with him. The young constable's father was amazed when he reached the age of 21, and why this is so, we just don't know except we must think that similar stories to those related here must have been occurring during the YC's  lifetime prior to him reaching his majority. Whenever I'm absent for a time one of the first questions I need answered on my return is whether any further Young Constable stories have occurred in my absence. These are some of the stories about the Young Constable that come to mind.  I have written them down as they are too good to allow them to be forgotten.
John Clarke

- - - -
Bagels and Tuna

The young constable had just come back from snow skiing in the USA and was told about a great little shop in Salt Lake City that makes beautiful bagels.

He called in and ordered a ham and cheese bagel and a cuppacino.

when the girl came with the order he noticed a cup of something on the tray next to the bagel.

He asked the girl what it was, thinking it was a side order with the bagel - she told him "a cup of tuna". Wonder what she said to her mates out the back when she took his order to the kitchen!!

PIGS

* a collection of stories and memories, in no particular order, from the life and times of John Clarke, who served as a policeman in the Australian Police Force, a great practical joker, he also had a great affinity with people and wildlife, was a champion swimmer, snooker player, loved golf, still loves fishing and is also an artist. I hope you enjoy his recollections - cheers, karin (his daughter)

In the early 80's, my mate Frank at the local caravan park got onto a pig farmer who was prepared to sell him dressed pigs (for eating) if he could purchase a few.

He contacted me and I checked out the guys at Tweed Heads Police Sation. Eight of us wanted pigs and Frank was duly informed.

The pigs arrived and Frank rang me. We got the Police Truck and went down to the caravan park and loaded the eight pigs into the truck and returned to the Twee Heads Police Station only to find the Superintendent was there doing an inspection.

We had to put an "accident" on the telephone pad and were 'tied up' the rest of the afternoon with our load of pigs until we got a coded radio call when the Super left, then we returned and duly unloaded our cargo.

CATCHING GALAHS IN TOTTENHAM

* a collection of stories and memories, in no particular order, from the life and times of John Clarke, who served as a policeman in the Australian Police Force, a great practical joker, he also had a great affinity with people and wildlife, was a champion swimmer, snooker player, loved golf, still loves fishing and is also an artist. I hope you enjoy his recollections - cheers, karin (his daughter)

There was a big gum tree on a friend's property and a pair of galahs were nesting in a big old dead branch.

We waited til the chicks were fairly mature and Rex and I went out in his new work utility (Rex was an electrician).  We put the extension lader up in the back of the landrover and I climbed up with a chainsaw to enlarge the nest hole so I could get my hand in.

As I started to cut, the branch suddenly snapped and fell fair on top of Rex's Ute's cabin, pushing it down in the centre to bonnet level.

We never got those chicks who were further in the tree.  We came home with our backs and necks bent down under the smashed roof to the amusement of the Tottenham population.

CATCHING GOANNAS

* a collection of stories and memories, in no particular order, from the life and times of John Clarke, who served as a policeman in the Australian Police Force, a great practical joker, he also had a great affinity with people and wildlife, was a champion swimmer, snooker player, loved golf, still loves fishing and is also an artist. I hope you enjoy his recollections - cheers, karin (his daughter)

In Tottenham (a town in outback NSW Australia) my mate Rex and I, used to catch goannas and sent them to Sydney by train to Petersham.

The local barman at the Pub was an Irish backpacker called Patrick who had great interest in wildlife.

One day, he called at the station with a big slash in his arm that had just been stitched up (16 stitches).  He had tried to catch a huge goanna for us and it bit him and ran up a large dead tree.

He was keen to take us out to this tree about 14 miles out of town.

We got to this paddock and there was this 7 foot goanna up the top of the tree.

The farmer came past in his tractor and when told the situation he gave the tree a push with the tractor and down it came.  After a chase we managed to lassoo the goanna with our special rigid lassoo.

He measured just on 7 foot.
Pat got 10 shillings for his effort, Rex and I got 7/6.

SHANGHAIS IN THE BLUE MOUNTAINS

* a collection of stories and memories, in no particular order, from the life and times of John Clarke, who served as a policeman in the Australian Police Force, a great practical joker, he also had a great affinity with people and wildlife, was a champion swimmer, snooker player, loved golf, still loves fishing and is also an artist. I hope you enjoy his recollections - cheers, karin (his daughter)

This story is courtesty of my father's childhood friend, Neal.  Thank you Neal, a very entertaining story!
After reading Dad's blog, Neal recalled the shanghai stories and sent this typewritten to him via snail mail.

As kids at Katoomba, we almost always carried catapaults (shanghais).  It wasn't just a craze we went through.  Shangais were considered long term necessary equipment.  We felt rather naked without one stuffed in the back pocket and rocks stuffed inside pockets.  They weren't the type you can buy these days (if you break the laws prohibiting dangerous weapons) which are made of steel and surgical rubber.  Ours were made out of a forked branch of a tree, strips of rubber cut from car tubes, a piece of leather which was usually the tongue of an old show, and some pieces of copper wire.

We all had our own design preferences.  Clarkey (John Clarke) reckoned that the longer the rubber, the raster the rock would fly.  When the rubber was fully stretched out, Clarkey had both arms almost fully extended, a bit like a scarecrow.  This made aiming difficult, although I must admit Clarkey was very accurate.  Clarkey recently claimed he was able to hit a bird on the wing.

Sometimes we had a contest to see whose shanghai was the most powerful.  We would on a given signal all shoot a stone as close as we could to exactly vertical and then wait for them to return.  The owner of the one that landed last was the winner.  Keeping track of the owner of each stone, and then avoiding the stones when they came hurtling back were both difficult.  It was great fun.

One day, Pricey (Glyn Price) and I decided we would make the biggest and best of all shanghais.  It would possibly fire half a house brick.  We got a particularly big fork and cut some especially wide rubber.  However it proved to be far too big and strong for one person to handle.  We thought we could make it a 2 man operation.  One could face the target with the fork held in front and braced against the shoulder while the other pulled back the rubber.  Obviously the poor kid at the front was in serious danger so we gave up on the idea altogether.  No heart some might say.

We used our shanghais for chasing wild parrots but we would walk along potting at just about anything just for the fun of it.  We became excellent shots which such a lot of practice.  Sometimes we broke the rules and a lot of other things.  I remember one day we were walking home just on dusk and the street lights suddenly came on.  I fired a quick shot toward one which was a long way down the road.  I got such a shock when it shattered, we scattered in all directions.

There were lots of parrots at Katoomba, Mountain Lowrys (Crimson Rosellas), Kingies (King Parrots), my favourite the Gang Gangs and others.  Our aim was to catch them to put in our aviaries.  Our technique was pretty simple; walk to the berry trees etc., where we knew the birds would be, sneak up on them, shoot, and when they fell race up and grab them before they gained their senses.  I think they fell mainly from shock as they always quickly recovered and we often got bitten.  Being bitten was very painful but we no doubt deserved it.  For kids all this was fantastic fun.

Most kids had aviaries.  Once a person had one bird at home in a cage it would call others down and we could then trap them.  We made automatic traps out of fruit boxes.  I had about six Mountain Lowrys.  One in particular was very tame and would come close when I walked up.  I really loved those birds.  However one morning I came out to find the door of the aviary open and the birds gone.  It was probably far better that way.

Sometimes when we were chasing birds we ran out of rocks.  Then we substituted.  Acorns were popular but I remember Clarkey firing pennie s(coins) on one frustrating occasion.

The skill and thrill of making and using shanghais seems permanent, a bit like riding a bike.  Clarkey was recently bemoaning the fact car tubes are now not made of latex so are not suitable.  He has however found a substitute in surgical rubber.  It seems most members of the group have passed the art and love of shanghais to their offspring.  It is comforting to know it will not go to the grave with us.

I still have a shanghai in the garage, it needs new rubber.  I think I'll fix it up and I'll give those bloody Minah birds a bit of hurry up!

Neal

BAD LUCK CRAB

* a collection of stories and memories, in no particular order, from the life and times of John Clarke, who served as a policeman in the Australian Police Force, a great practical joker, he also had a great affinity with people and wildlife, was a champion swimmer, snooker player, loved golf, still loves fishing and is also an artist. I hope you enjoy his recollections - cheers, karin (his daughter)

I was down at my mate Speddo's place today and his young fisho mate, Ant. was there.

Ant was telling me the other day he caught a nice mud crab in the river.  He took it home to eat.
An elderly lady visitor saw the crab and didn't want to see it go in the pot, so she paid Ant $15
to take it back and release it.

He did so.

Two days later the same crab was back in his pot - bad luck for the crab this time :(

GOLD MINING AT PARKES

* a collection of stories and memories, in no particular order, from the life and times of John Clarke, who served as a policeman in the Australian Police Force, a great practical joker, he also had a great affinity with people and wildlife, was a champion swimmer, snooker player, loved golf, still loves fishing and is also an artist. I hope you enjoy his recollections - cheers, karin (his daughter)

- - - - -

In about 1962 I was working night work at Parks with Bob Walsh.

Back then, Geoff Luland was living in a flat and had a big boiler constantly on the stove into which everything was put, ducks, chooks, rabbits, hares and vegies.  We would often leave something on his front door mat for the pot.  This pot would cook for months at a time.

Bob and I decided (as it was quiet) to patrol one area at Parkes, known as the "rifle range" with a rifle to see if we could get a rabbit for Geoff's pot.

It was 'round 1am when I spotted a fox run across the front of the police car.  In order to keep him in the headlight, I backed the police car and turned to keep the lights on the fox - next thing we knew the police car was vertical.  I had reversed down a gold mine and the car was stopped from going deeper than it's length by tree branches.

We managed to get out of the car and climbed up the car to get out of the mine.  Bob stayed with the car whilst I ran back to the police station where I dug out the police rescue equipment, ropes, grappling hooks, etc and the F100 police truck.

After a couple of hours work, we managed to get the police car out and just managed to get back to the station before the day shift arrived.

The few scratches on the police car were never noticed.
This incident did not make it to the occurence pad.