Former manager of ‘Tupra Station’, near Oxley Chris McClelland sat down with The Riverine Grazier journalist Kimberly Grabham and delved into the union uprest that reached our region. This is part two of the incredible story.

“One day, two union representatives were seen walking towards the shed after parking their car on the other side of the river, but came no further than the concealing edge of the timber near the sheep yards,” Mr McClelland remembers.

“Upon seeing the number of men working in the sheep yards, they would have decided that retreat would have been wiser, no doubt realising the hostile reception that they would have received from the shearers – the strike breakers!

"More likely they would have been visually confirming the fact that we were joyfully going against the union’s directive.

Crutching proceeded without mishap for a week or so and I can remember one of the young South Australian employees we brought up saying that he thought all of the precautions we were taking were all a great big joke after I reprimanded him for excessive drinking in the jackeroo quarters after work.

"If not for the circumstances, I would have told him to pack his bags.

By this time there was a lot of publicity in the media, perhaps more locally than in the city, except when there was a bashing by unionists somewhere.

This was more good news for the metropolis as it sells papers.

Banter between Ian McLachlan and the AWU Secretary, Ernie Ecob was a regular occurrence, and all manner of threats were made by Ecob, including blackmail.

There was always the false reminder of the strength of the Union members stand on the issue at hand.

Once, Ecob phoned me at home on the station, and with common, uncouth drawl, laced with alcohol, demanded, ‘Where’s McLachlan, I wanna speak to him!’

One evening about 6 o’clock, the publican of the Maude hotel phoned me to say that there was a gathering of perhaps twenty odd men in his bar, and maybe more outside.

He thought form the gist of snippets of their fairly guarded conversation that trouble was brewing for the Tupra woolshed, and we should expect a raid within the next hour.

I immediately phoned the Hay police to ex plain the situation.

The sergeant on duty in formed me that they could not just turn up at Tupra on the off chance that there might be trouble.

I then explained to him that we were not going to treat the matter so lightly, from our end, and that I was going to order 30 odd men armed with cudgels to conceal themselves in the dark on our side of Tupra bridge to wait for a likely incursion by up to 30 alcohol inspired unionists and hangers on.

The cautionary reply was, ‘Let it be on your own head if anything serious happens, but inform us immediately if a confrontation does occur.’

I told our own staff of the unfolding events before going down to the shearer’s quarters to prepare the shearers for the day.

We would assemble in the dark on this side of the bridge strictly armed with only our pine cudgels.

I fitted my ‘hard hat’ polocrosse helmet for safety, and gave a spare polo helmet to one of the jackeroos.

I grabbed a first aid kit and a few long black plastic ties from the workshop bench in case we needed to restrain someone for the police.

We had hand held radios, with us to keep in contact with Margie (McClelland, Chris’ wife), who would be manning the station UHF and VHF receivers and satellite phone.

Unfortunately, Bob White the contractor was away for a few days.

The only way anyone could easily access the Lachlan River was over the bridge and the entry of a large mob of insurgents would be restricted by the truck chained on the bridge.

I doubted whether they would use a boat, so I suggested we let no more than five hostile individuals over the bridge before isolating and apprehending them.

Then, using the element of surprise, repulse any further trespass on the bridge with cudgels if necessary. It was too dark to use the horses.

And so, an army of men waited in the dark on the Lachlan River bank amongst the red gums, the men cradling their cudgels and busting for a fight.

Several men were smoking, and I asked them not to as the glow would be a dead give away to anyone approaching the bridge.

The vigilantes may well leave their cars nearer to the main road, about half a kilometre away, and walk in unseen.

So, I put two of our men across the bridge on the edge of the timber, with a two-way radio to watch for car lights coming down the road.

We must have waited in the dark for about an hour in silence when car lights appeared, coming form the direction of the homestead.

Margie had pulled up to say it was all over.

The police had phoned and told her that the Maude mob had been broken up and one man would face charges.

My men were very disappointed, and reluctantly left the scene to re turn to their quarters.

Evidently, after leaving the Maude Pub, the mob of up to 30 shearers and sympathisers, decided to give the small property, Newmarket, near the Oxley/Tupra turnoff, a bit of a touch up before coming on the next 40 kilometres to deal with us.

The shed was right on the side of the road, and had been spotted shearing by patrolling unionists, and was full of woolly sheep.

Some of the unruly mob were obviously armed, as gunshots were fired high through the walls of the Newmarket shearing shed.

The manager, after calling the police, had crawled through the sheep pens in an endeavour to let sheep out into the yard, in case they were smothered from fright, or injured by misplaced gunshots.

During the confrontation, a shotgun had accidentally and carelessly gone off in one of the vehicles, injuring a passenger by ricocheting pellets form the blast.

This quickly brought the foolhardiness of this exercise to a sobering head. When the police arrived in very short time, the mob a cused the manager of firing at them from the woolshed and causing personal injury.

This was soon disproved, and the culprit placed on charges for giving false information. Guns were confiscated, and the mob was told by police to disperse and return to their homes.

Meanwhile back at Tupra, I decided to keep watch at the bridge so spent the night sleeping in the back of a four-wheel drive vehicle hid den just off the road in the timber.

At first light I checked that the truck was secure on the bridge, and returned to the station for break fast. Crutching was finally completed without further trouble.

Bob White continued to receive life threatening taunts from unionists, and at times was in fear of his family’s safety in the town of Mandurama.

Mr McLachlan Senior suggested and organised for the purchase of two trained Doberman guard dogs, which Bob White kept at home as security for his family.

Tragically, he died some years later when a car engine on a hoist fell on him. This dreadful incident followed a tumultu ous time in his life.

Although suspected foul play by some, no conclusive evidence was found.

There was one amusing incident during the crutching operation when Bob White had left the station on business and returned to the shed late at night, a day earlier than I expected him back.

As you remember I placed a truck on the bridge and padlocked it in place with a very heavy high-tensile drag chain.

The key was secured in the station office. When Bob appeared the next morning, I was surprised to see his car outside the wool room and asked him how in hell did he get his car over the bridge without a key.

He replied, “Easily, the heavy steel loop at the end of the chain that you attached the pad lock to was held only by a steel link pin and split pin.

I simply pulled out the split pin hold ing the steel link pin in place, removed the chain, towed the truck backwards off the bridge with the chain, and pulled it back when I had driven across.”

Eventually, because of the strength and leadership of the NFF under Ian McLachlan, the wide comb dispute was settled once and for all.

Credit must also be given to the cou rage of a widely travelled and many times champion shearer, John Allan, who main tained the supply of wide gear throughout the strike by setting up a Heiniger wide comb and cutter importing business against threats to him ‘commercially,’ and ‘physically’ from the AWU.

The union went into oblivion in the bush.

"There have been a great many changes in the shearing industry for the better, and one must realise that throughout our history, shearers played a vital role in the Australian economy and the wool-growing industry, besides giving a lot of colour and character to our lifestyle.

"They are still probably the hardest working people in the world.”