Williamstown amateur historian Barb McNeill is Star Weekly’s history columnist. This week she tells the rollicking tale of fight that took place in 1925 outside a pub in Yarraville between locals and visiting Filipiino sailors on Australia Day.
Over the years, we have become accustomed to the various controversies leading up to Australia Day. Statues are routinely disfigured, decapitated and tastefully doused in paint. Graffiti proclaims the end of a colony whose name is never specified. Thousands of disgruntled marchers shout slogans, and vote-seeking politicians bleat about the date. Millions more anticipate fighting off the blowies whilst enjoying sun, sand and barbecues.
One hundred years ago, on 25 January, 1925, the lead- up to Australia Day was far more straightforward for the working men, mostly ex-Diggers, who were quenching their thirsts in a Hyde Street pub in Yarraville.
None was concerned with dates, colonies or politicians. Even Captain Cook didn’t enter their thoughts. Their sole focus was on slurping the turps before the dreaded 6 o’clock closing.
This they did with practised abandon, watched admiringly by half a dozen Filipino sailors on shore leave. So it was true, after all. The fabled drinking of Australian males was no exaggeration. They themselves, though no wowsers, were more refined, preferring gentle sips to the crazed guzzling of the natives.
And so, when “Time, gentlemen!” was bellowed to signal the end of the booze-up, the Australians, though still vertical, were visibly affected by their many glasses. The visitors were comparatively sober. The doors shut and the patrons spilled out onto Hyde Street.
And that’s when the trouble began.
One of the Aussies took a drunken dislike to a sailor and shirt fronted him. The Filipino, intending to push him away, pushed too hard, and sent the man flying to the ground, smashing the bottle he had in his pocket.
The seamen all rushed to his aid and helped him to his feet with profuse apologies for the accident. But the Aussie was in no mood to forgive the smashing of his bottle. With a howl of rage, he reared up and indiscriminately flattened two of his helpers.
Within seconds, six Filipinos were battling against 15 Australians. The visitors had the advantage of clearer heads; the locals had the assets of numbers and beer-fuelled brawn. By all accounts, it was a first class blue and greatly entertained the crowds which gathered to watch and yell encouragement.
Dong! Several men went down with unpleasant scalp wounds inflicted with an iron bar. As tempers flared, all available weapons were pressed into service – broken bottles, fists, rocks, and, urged on by the crowd’s screams of “Garn, ‘ave a lash!” several brawlers became locked in wrestling holds and were rolling up and down Hyde Street, biting and kicking. They were soon joined by a dozen of the spectators hopping in to help with more fists and rocks. The Filipinos appeared to be getting the worst of the struggle until the noise of the affray alerted their brethren on board their ship anchored nearby in Hobsons Bay.
Up Hyde Street 20 of them charged like knights of old to the assistance of their crew mates. The situation was desperate enough to warrant the use of dire measures, to wit, slings, which they whirled and launched with devastating efficiency. The Aussies yelped about the lumps now appearing on their heads, as well as the unfairness of this dirty tactic, and then the familiar sound of a firearm, and a subsequent cry of pain alerted them that things were getting completely out of hand.
Albert Marr, of nearby Seddon, displayed for public inspection a bloodied elbow that some seaman had used as target practise. Remembering the Anzacs of Gallipoli and Pozieres, the Australians screamed their outrage and redoubled efforts to beat back the foe, while Albert toddled off to find a bandaid.
The uproar in Hyde Street had not only reached the ears of the sailors at anchor, but also the ears of the police, who, naturally, had to butt in and ruin the fun with busy batons.
Being greatly outnumbered, and knowing from experience that bitter enemies often joined forces against the common foe, the police employed a cunning tactic of their own. Ignoring their fellow-countrymen, they concentrated on the Filipinos, confiscating all the slings, plus a loaded revolver. A rapid inspection showed that it had not been recently fired.
They then dragged four sailors off to the Yarraville lock-up as the Australians, normally not overly enamoured with the boys in blue, delightedly cheered them on.
The crowd gradually dispersed to relax and enjoy a gloating chat.
The Filipino sailors were hauled before the Footscray Court a few days later, charged only with offensive behaviour. They were released and thankfully returned to their ship, vowing never, under any circumstances, to enter any Australian pub again.
The Aussies resumed their drinking in the Hyde Street pub, reminiscing over the great basho and what fun it had been. The police were mentioned with special fondness.
But the mystery remains to this day: who shot Albert Marr?
