Clair Jessen was the wife of Alfred John Jessen, sworn into the Queensland Police Force in 1944 and serving many city and country communities, including from the very remote Burketown Police Station in 1960. Mrs Jessen wrote down some of her experiences as a police wife, and today we bring you Part 3 of her memoirs – Remoteness Embraced.
Last week (19.12.2017) we ended where I had little in common with the other women. They, having spent some years in the Gulf, would find comfort at the hotel rather than a cup of tea.
One of the problems living in the outback were haircuts. The Sarge had to become my barber and most times I looked worse after the cut than before. I remember the day the Postmistress pleaded with me to cut her hair, even though I told her I didn’t have a clue. However, I picked up the scissors and cut from side to side till the poor woman covered her hair with her hands saying “that’s enough, thank you”. I could not help but notice she wore a scarf for a month, and much to my relief never asked me to cut her hair again.
Strangely enough, though we were in cattle country fresh meat was always a problem. We had to rely on a station owner who, when he had the time would slaughter a beast to bring into town. The meat, cut into great slabs and still bleeding, was then thrown onto the back of the truck with a few branches over the top in a hopeless attempt to keep the flies away. As much as I needed the meat, I came to dread the sight of the truck coming in. Once again, Sarge had to come to my rescue, as seeing meat in this way I could never manage.
Due to the heat and our useless fridge, I could only buy a week’s supply. Next morning after opening the fridge you would have to clean up the blood that had dripped during the night — a far cry from butcher shops today. Holbrooks sauce was a real standby when meat was in doubt. When visiting a station, if the owner reached for the Holbrooks sauce, then so did we, and so when the meat ran out it was back to Tom Pipers Stew.
The meat truck, with Clair holding the tray of meat, c1965. Image courtesy of the Jessen family.
My thoughts go back to the one and only wedding reception held in the Gulf in my time there. A young local girl and her intended husband working in the area on bridges and roads, drove to Mount Isa by themselves to get married. Then next morning before returning, they loaded their jeep with food for the reception. On their return the groom killed and cooked a pig over hot coals. The bride and groom ironed sheets borrowed from the hospital, to use as tablecloths. Let me tell you, ironing sheets with a hot petrol iron is no easy task. That evening, the young couple climbed back into their best clothes and entered the hall, and a local played “Here Comes the Bride” on the squeeze box. A great time was had by all. After we all left, the young couple went back in their old clothes and cleaned up the hall. It truly was a bush wedding!
Then came the exciting news that the Governor of Queensland, Sir Henry Abel Smith, and his wife were touring the outback and would have an overnight stay in our area. It was decided Lady May would meet the station wives for morning tea at the Hospital. Then shock, horror… the Governor would meet the men at the Police residence! As old and decrepit as our dwelling was, there simply was nowhere else. As I looked around at the old and dirty wooden floor boards, and the large piece of sapling holding up the caging door into the dining room, I thought, ‘if the Governor wants to see life in the Outback, he certainly would see it at my place’.
A quick check on my crockery revealed my best tea set was cracked and chipped from this last move. A quick trip to the store to ask them to help me get a good tea set; “Don’t worry, we know what you want”. After a long and nervous wait, a parcel finally arrived, only to contain very heavy white cups and saucers, those used in railway refreshment rooms. When the great day arrived, I put the few good cups in front on the table, of course for the Governor and his staff. After a brief greeting, for it was a men’s day only, I retired to the kitchen. Later, peeping into the room to check all was going well only to see the cattle men drinking from the best cups, while the Governor sipped his tea from a railway cup. After Sir Henry’s visit, I’m sure his report on our living conditions did result in a new house being built.
We had less than one year in the new house before moving on. After our transfer to the Gulf in 1960, 3 years, 3 months and 5 days came the news we had waited so long to hear. Joy to be leaving, but I also felt sorry for the other women, who for some reason, had to stay on in this desolate area.
Our transfer was to Pittsworth, a small rural town just outside Toowoomba. Folk came from all around and called in to say goodbye. One station owner after the usual chit chat turned to me and said, “Well Clair, when you first came, we all thought you were a good sort, but I have to say you’ve gone off”. There was no answer to that, except when he left I took a good long look in the mirror. Three years of heat, dust, bad diet and bad haircuts had taken their toll. He spoke the truth; I had gone off!
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This information has been supplied by the Queensland Police Museum from the memoirs of Clair Jessen titled ‘Three Meals and a Bed”. The Police Museum is open from 9am to 4pm Monday to Thursday and 10am to 3pm on the last Sunday of the month (Feb-Nov) and is located on the Ground Floor of Police Headquarters at 200 Roma Street, Brisbane. Contact: E: museum@police.qld.gov.au
“FROM the VAULT- The Memoirs of Clair Jessen Part 3 – Remoteness Embraced” by the Queensland Police Service is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution (BY) 2.5 Australia Licence. Permissions may be available beyond the scope of this licence. http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.5/au/legalcode