History revisited – NENCO, Newcastle & wool sales part 2

Continuing my story of the establishment of wool selling in Newcastle, with P A Wright now joining the small group of activists, a new company was formed, the New England, North and Northwest Producers’ Co Ltd, later to be known as NENCO to sell wool and wheat through Newcastle.

The problems facing the new venture were formidable. Lacking capital, it faced entrenched opposition from the Wool Buyers’ Association as well as the Wool Brokers’ Association. Both were protective of the existing system. Neither could see any advantage at all in wool selling at Newcastle, only increased costs.

Wright had expected to gain support in Newcastle, including capital. However, the venture was too far outside the normal interests of the southern city and, in any case, seemed risky. Later Newcastle would adopt wool selling as its own, but for the present this lay far in the future.

Wright and his colleagues adopted a multi-pronged approach to the various barriers facing the venture.

They tried to establish relations with existing buyers and brokers. That move failed and perhaps as well. Had NENCO’s application to join the Brokers’ Association been accepted, the Association could have killed the concept by allocating Newcastle a sales quota that guaranteed commercial failure.

They also sought political and industry support. This did not give them immediate benefits, but provided a degree of protection against possible retaliation from existing interests.

Most importantly, they sought support and capital from major Northern wool growers. Accompanied by W E Tayler, Wright called on Colonel White at Bald Blair. In Wright’s words, White was widely regarded as one of the foremost men in the North. If he came in, the venture would gain immediate credibility.

White was not enthusiastic. To Wright’s dismay, White said that he would not take part; so far as he was concerned, they could sit on their own bottom. Thinking about it, White was to change his mind, to join NENCO as a shareholder and director. Other big graziers joined as well.

While it wasn’t clear at the time, this growing support gave NENCO the commercial edge to succeed. The grower members produced a substantial clip. They were prepared to sell this through Newcastle even if it meant lower prices, taking a lower return now to achieve their longer term objectives.

The first Newcastle sale took place on Thursday 1 November 1928. NENCO’s own premises were not ready, so the wool was displayed at the old Newcastle skating rink, with the auction held at the Church of England’s Tyrell Hall.

That sale was a disappointment. Of the 1,760 bales of wool on offer, only 25 per cent was sold, although 60 per cent was sold later. The scheme’s opponents crowed. It was a failure.

At this point, the support of the bigger growers became critical. They would sell their wool through Newcastle regardless. This was enough to guarantee ultimate success. The rest, as they say, is history.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 18 June 2014. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because the columns are not on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for2014.

The photo from the Newcastle Regional Library shows a wool classer inspecting wool for sale in 1950.

History revisited – the shears stop in Newcastle

End of an Era. The Newcastle wool sales came to an end last year after more than ninety years in operation. Jim Belshaw explains how the sales began in the 1920s to help Northern farmers.

Tuesday 19 February 2013, Newcastle. The last wool sales had begun. For the last time, the buyers, brokers and graziers gathered together. Unlike other centres where selling had become remote, the mob of woolgrowers and buyers who relished travelling to Newcastle to see the collective clip had never wavered, propping up hotels, restaurants and business. It was their sale, a major social outing.

Barbara Morley had served the wool brokers and growers breakfast, lunch and dinner for 27 years. Now she was to don her apron for the last time, serving dinner for up to two hundred people, enjoying a last chardy or chat with all the familiar faces.

‘Country folk are just so unbelievable, real gentlemen and so respectful – I’ll miss them.’’

The story now ending had begun many years before. During the 1920s, Northern graziers experienced difficulties in selling their late cut wool because of congestion in the Sydney wool stores. Wool shorn in October or November could not be sold until the following March, creating a cash flow hole. The problem had become so bad that some growers were selling their wool from the shed, taking a lower price just to get the cash.

A small group (J J Price, A E Hunter and W E Tayler) decided that the solution was to open wool sales in Newcastle. Newcastle was a deep water port with a direct rail connection that finished on the water front. Tayler came to see P A Wright to seek his support and to ask him whether he was prepared to join the board of the new venture.

PA, everyone called him PA if not always to his face, was frustrated. He had sold his own large clip from the shed in 1927. A strong supporter of self government for Northern New South Wales, Wright believed that existing institutional structures impeded local development. He was also a supporter of direct action; those experiencing problems should act to fix them at once as best they could.

Wright listened to Tayler’s arguments. The need was clearly there. The concept was attractive. But would it work in a practical sense? There was a big gap between that embryo group and the practical realities involved in creating a new wool selling centre in the face of entrenched institutional and commercial barriers.

Wright was a methodical practical man. However, that was combined with curiosity, with a willingness to observe and experiment and the ability to see visions and to pursue causes with a dogged persistence.

As a practical man, he did his own investigation, visiting Sydney for talks with wool brokers. As a visionary, he became convinced that part of the solution to Northern problems lay in the development of Newcastle as an export port for Northern produce. It wasn’t just wool. Northern wheat growers were experiencing similar problems trying to export through Sydney.

After reflection and investigation, Wright decided to support the project and join the board. I will continue this story in my next column.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 11 June 2014. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because the columns are not on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014.

History revisited – Chinatown in Tingha

Most of New England’s small settlements have vanished in the great rural depopulation, leaving little behind beyond a few posts. This was especially true of our mining towns, for there the town survived just as long as the rush endured. Once the miners left, the town vanished, the buildings moved or decaying into the landscape. Now the few remains lie forgotten, ignored even by neighbours, their history lost.

This remains true even where the original physical presence was substantial. Tingha’s China Town is an example. Heard of it? I bet not.

China Town ran on the creek bank along Amethyst Street. However, the Chinese population was so big that it overflowed across the town. At the height of the tin boom, Chinese boarding houses, stores, cafes, peanut shops, wine shops, herbalists, opium dens and gambling shops competed for space in Tingha’s overcrowded town centre.

How big was big? That’s difficult to estimate. At the height of the tin mining boom, 2,500 people packed into Tingha and its immediate surrounds. The population of the broader Tingha mining district was 7,000 of whom 2,000 were Chinese. My best guess, and it’s only a guess, is that Tingha had perhaps 500 Chinese residents; the remaining Chinese visited as needs demanded.

Chinese celebrations were both noisy and colourful. One year, a huge paper marquee was imported from China and erected in the vicinity of the main joss house. It housed displays of various gods and devils and of humans being punished for their sins.

The display remained open for a week. On the seventh day amidst much ceremony,

it was set alight. As it burned, fire crackers exploded; there was much gaiety until the whole structure was reduced to ash.

As the mines declined, people left, Chinese and non-Chinese alike. Yet many Chinese lingered, leaving their imprint. That is why stores in so many towns near the tin belt carried Chinese names, names that linger to this day; Hong Yuen (Inverell), Kwong Sing (Glen Innes and Bundarra), Hong Sing (Stanthorpe) and Wing Hing Long (Tingha).

When Harry Fay died in Inverell in August 2012, the Northern Daily Leader spoke of his connection with the iconic Hong Yuen department store. After taking over the store in 1970 that his grandfather had run for sixty years, the paper said, Mr Fay had carried on the family tradition of honesty, quality service and community spirit. That’s not a bad epitaph.

I wonder how many Chinese students at UNE know that their ancestors were a significant part of the history of the area in which they now study? Not many, I would guess.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 4 June 2014. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because the columns are not on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014.

History revisited – Tingha’s tin a golden find

Credit for the first discovery of tin on the Northern Tablelands belongs to Pennyweight Joe, Joseph Wills to give him his real name. The name Pennyweight Joe was the affectionate nickname given to him by his fellow workers and employers.

In her book Tin at Tingha, Helen Brown records that Pennyweight Joe was seen by those around him as a simple, likeable though quite eccentric shepherd who was perpetually short of money. He was, in fact, a little more than that.

Joseph Wills seems to have had a sound knowledge of geology, a love of rocks; this allowed him to identify metals and precious stones. He also had overseas connections to whom he sent samples and from whom he received information on prices. His role as shepherd gave him ample time and opportunity to prospect.

Around 1865, Wills sent a consignment of geological specimens to his brother-in-law Frederick Clar De V’ries in London. This included a sample of tin, along with agate, sapphires, rubies and amethysts, all of which De V’ries exhibited at a miner’s exhibition in Paris.

Wills did nothing about his find. Then in 1870, probably broke, he sold a bag of tin to a commercial traveler at an Inverell hotel. The traveler took the tin to C S McGlew in Sydney who had been searching for tin across a wide area of NSW.

McGlew had samples of the smelted to test its value, then hastened north to meet Wills who showed him where the tin had come from at Elmore. In June 1871, McGlew and his associated started test mining at Elmore for rich rewards.

Around the same time, Wills found another deposit that he showed to his employer, Duncan Anderson. Anderson, in conjunction with Sydney merchant and early mining magnate Sir Saul Samuel, floated a company to exploit the discovery. Now there were two companies exploiting Wills’ discoveries.

Wills was the first to discover tin, but before anyone knew of the discovery, Messrs Millis and Fearby also discovered tin about sixteen kilometres south of Elmore on the banks of Cope’s Creek. They kept their discovery secret while they formed a new company, the Britannia Tin Mining Company. This also began mining in 1871.

Mills and Firby were far sighted men. As part of their plans, they applied for the conditional purchase of 240 acres (97.13 hectares) of land at the junction of Cope’s Creek and Darby’s Branch Creek. In 1870 in anticipation of the rush that would begin when news of their discovery became public, they had 100 acres (40.47 hectares) of their new selection surveyed into town streets and house allotments.

The two men called their new private town Tingha. Ten years later, it would have a population of over 2,000.

And Joseph Wills? His tombstone records “He paved the way for others’ gains, And dies neglected for his pains.”

It wasn’t quite as bad as that. The two Elmore mining companies each gave him a life time annuity, but he died in 1873 before he could enjoy the real benefits.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 28 May 2014. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because the columns are not on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014. The photo shows tin sluicing about the turn of the twentieth century.