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Hello. Today we're going to look at the birth of a community.
It could be your community, it could be any community.
But it happens to be Brisbane, the community in which I live.
It's a busy place, isn't it? And noisy. Lots of people and rush and bustle.
But it wasn't always like that here. Not in the beginning.
Two hundred years ago, our community didn't exist.
Of course the river was here, but there were no freeways, no tall office blocks and no white people.
Various tribes of Aborigines lived here in strong, well-run communities of their own.
They'd been here for hundreds of years, living as they'd always lived, in close harmony with nature.
But soon they were to meet a very different kind of community.
The white man's community began far away from here in a small office in Government House in Sydney.
The year was 1822, and the governor was the man whose name was given to our community, Sir Thomas Brisbane.
And I am hopeful that these difficulties will shortly be resolved.
Further, I am very aware of the problems of overcrowding in the colony, and will take immediate steps to overcome this.
I remain your most humble and obedient servant.
Sir Thomas Brisbane.
Get that ready for dispatch, will you, Wilcox?
Certainly, sir.
Well, that should keep their Lordships happy, Wilcox.
Yes, sir.
What time is Lieutenant Oxley due?
The Surveyor General is due at ten thirty, sir.
It's almost that now. That's a problem, Wilcox, and no mistake.
Let me have another look at that chart.
Now then, the problem, simply stated, is whether deuce to be put the next lot of convicts.
Port Jackson, sir?
Full up.
Well, then, Port Macquarie?
Couldn't squeeze in another soul.
No, I think it'll mean a new settlement.
You have somewhere in mind, sir?
Well, according to Matthew Flinders, there's some promising spots to the north.
Port Curtis here, and further still, yes, here in Glasshouse Bay.
That's a long way north, sir.
Wilcox, if we are thinking of sending away the most troublesome of our convicts, the further away the better.
Now, the next problem is a ship. Do we have one to spare?
There's the Mermaid, sir.
Not a big ship, nor fast.
But adequate for the purpose.
Yes, Lieutenant Oxley shall have the Mermaid for his exploration.
Come.
The Survey General to see you, sir.
Now, show him in, please.
Ah, Boxy, come in, my dear fellow.
Look here.
I'd like you to take a little trip.
And so it was that about a year later, Lieutenant Oxley arrived here in Moreton Bay.
He explored the area, and he found a big river, which he called the Brisbane River, after the governor, Sir Thomas Brisbane.
But the first convict settlement was set up here at Red Cliff.
Before long, they found a much better site further up the river.
And so the soldiers and the convicts moved up the river and set about carving out a brand new community.
The young settlement on the banks of the Brisbane River was not a free community.
None of these people were here by choice.
The convicts were of the hardest type, and they were treated very harshly.
You can't talk to them. They weren't allowed to speak.
Each of them had a certain number of metres to hoe, and if they didn't finish it, they would be lashed with the whip.
But these were the people who founded our community.
They cleared the land, they put up the buildings, and they planted the first crops.
But everything they needed had to come by ship, from Sydney or from England.
And when the machinery for the windmill didn't arrive, they turned it into a treadmill,
and the corn was ground by convict power.
But better times were coming.
While our community was still a convict settlement, nobody else was allowed to live here without special permission.
But in 1840, that came to an end.
Fifteen years after Oxley first came here, free settlement was proclaimed.
And after a land sale in Sydney, the first free settlers began to move into the new town of Brisbane.
Just imagine what life must have been like for the first families.
No TV, no electric light, not even a tap with running water.
So let's imagine we can drop in on the Davises round about sunset just as they're finishing their meal.
Joshua, Susan, that will do. You'll wear the bowls away.
Arthur, if you had enough to eat, there's a little more cornmeal fry left in the pan.
No, thank you, Sarah. I must confess that cornmeal fry is beginning to lose its appeal.
What I could do with is a nice mug of tea.
I know, love, but I told you, no more tea until the next ship arrives from Sydney.
When will the next ship come, Mother?
I don't know, dear, but I do wish it were soon.
I have such a list of things we need. Tea, salt, sugar, more soap.
And if I don't have some more needles, your father's never going to get his shirt mended.
Right, now you two, off you go. Joshua, your letters, and Susan, ready for bed.
Oh, Father, just ten minutes more, please.
Do I have to do my letters tonight?
Yes, lad, while there's still light to see. Now I want a row of tees and a row of yous.
There, away with you.
Good night, Father.
Good night, my girl, and don't forget to say your prayers.
Just look at these holes. How am I going to patch these up? I'm blessed if I know.
I hear tell there's another ship due in about a week, and not before time, I declare.
I need nails and some binding string, and a new saw to replace that one I broke last week.
Arthur, we've been here almost twelve months now. Be honest with me, do you think we did the right thing?
Do you have any doubts, Sarah?
No, not really. The work's hard, but I don't mind that. But will it be a good place for the children?
It's a good place for all of us.
But if we'd stayed in Sydney, they could have gone to a school. There are more shops there.
Life was a little easier for them.
And for you.
That's not what I meant.
I know. Look, they're both healthy. Joshua rides well for his age. Susan helps you with the chickens and the goat.
They'll do well here. We're building a whole new community. The opportunities are endless.
There's coal to be cut, pine and cedar to be milled. The sheep stations up on the downs will need men.
And now it's a fine country. Susan and Joshua will both do well.
Our only problem to my mind will be getting enough people to come here and do the work.
But give it time, love. Give it time.
Finding people to do the work was indeed a problem because, of course, there were no more convicts.
New free settlers had to be found.
A Scottish preacher by the name of the Reverend Dunmore Lang advertised for migrants to go to the new colony in Moreton Bay.
In 1849, the fortitude brought out 200 migrants with two more shiploads following soon after.
But even that wasn't enough. On the fertile pastures of the downs, the sheep were multiplying faster than the shepherds.
The squatters desperately needed more labour, convict labour.
But the free settlers in the towns didn't want more convicts. They wanted more free settlers.
And so the argument grew and grew.
Trade with Sydney also grew.
Soon there was a weekly shipping service run by the Hunter River Steam Navigation Company.
At last, our little community had a regular means of transport and communication with the outside world.
It made life so much easier for families like the Davises.
Eight, ten, twelve. There, that's four dozen.
Now, you tell your dad that Mr Johnson said to be careful of these nails because they're the last of that size till the next boat.
You got it, son?
Yes, sir. Can I have some boiled sweets, Mr Johnson? Please?
Oh, well, if your mother says so. What would you like? Humbugs, bullseyes or boiled fruits?
Oh, some of those. Some of those, Mr Johnson.
Right. Here you go to school now, son.
Yes, I do some lessons with the Reverend Lane. He's teaching me history and arithmetic and everything.
What about your sister? Does she go too?
Oh, she's still too young. She does her letters with Mother.
Oh, and here she is now. Morning, Mrs Davises.
Good morning, Mr Johnson. Is my order ready?
Yes.
I'm sorry, Mr Johnson. I'm going to have to pay you in cabbages today.
What happened, Mother?
Well, you know the Peatree's cockatoo.
Yes, I do. What's he done now?
Well, it seems he's taken to going down to the river and hailing the gardener from Kangaroo Point.
He calls out, Bodehoy, cabbages, just like everyone else does.
Well, today I followed him down to the river.
Sure enough, the gardener heard him call back, oi oi, and rode over soon after with a boatload of cabbages.
When he got to this side, there was no one there except Cocky, who began to screech and laugh at him.
Well, the man said some dreadful things, and I felt so sorry for him,
that he had to go down and buy some cabbages to make his trip worthwhile.
That bird! He'll come to a bad end one of these days, you mark my words.
Now, let's check your order, Mrs Davises.
Wool, and the candles, a new ladle, and the material you ordered.
It's a nice one, that too. Look.
Thank you, Mr Johnson. Now, here's the cabbages.
And I'll pay you for the rest later, if that's all right.
Oh, don't worry. Next time, you're this way.
Oh, thanks, Mr Johnson. Say goodbye, Josh.
Goodbye, Mr Johnson. Oh, and thank you for the sweets.
Hey, wait until I tell Father and Sue some bare cocky.
Well, old Cocky lived for a long, long time.
Forty-five years, in fact.
And by all accounts, he was a great troublemaker.
But most of the town knew about his mischief-making.
Those were the good days. Our community grew and grew.
More houses sprang up. The first bank was established.
And the layout of the town streets began to take shape.
Locally quarried stone began to replace timber,
and the buildings took on an air of permanence.
Mr John Petrie, son of Brisbane's oldest free settler,
Anne Cocky's owner, became the first mayor of Brisbane.
Our community was growing up.
But the arguments continued.
As the community became more and more independent,
some people wanted to separate from Sydney
and deal directly with England.
For years, the townsfolk, the squatters, and the politicians
had argued for and against the idea of separation.
Then one day, it happened.
Sarah!
Sarah! Quickly!
But what is it? What's happened?
At last!
I've just heard from someone who got it straight from Captain Wickham.
The English government has come down in favour of separation.
We're going to separate from New South Wales.
Do you know what this means, Sarah?
Our own government here in Brisbane, schools, roads,
maybe even the city of London,
better supplies, more people coming in from England,
ships sailing direct from London to Moreton Bay.
No more long waits for nails and needles.
That's right. We're going to celebrate.
There's a dance tonight. That's why I've come home to fetch you.
Oh, Sarah.
After all these years, all those letters,
somebody has finally woken up.
We're going to be separated from the English government.
We're going to be a bigger community than ever before.
Come on, let's get ready.
But it wasn't quite that simple.
It was another two whole years before Brisbane separated from New South Wales,
and the state of Queensland was officially declared.
Queensland after Queen Victoria.
The first governor was Sir George Fogerson Bowen.
He was to arrive by ship on the 10th of September, 1859.
But the night before he arrived, Captain Wickham held a big party
to celebrate the birth of the new community.
A fine party, Captain Wickham, and a beautiful evening.
Thank you, Justice Lutwitch.
You seem somewhat subdued. Is anything the matter?
I just received word that the Corvette Cordelia has anchored in Moreton Bay.
Tomorrow he will step ashore and make formal proclamation
of our new colony of Queensland.
So as to be the 10th of December, 1859.
That's a date for the history books, eh?
But why so downcast? This is a time for celebration.
Tomorrow I will celebrate.
Tonight, well, it's the end of an era.
True, your official duty finishes tomorrow.
It's more than that.
Nineteen years I've been out here.
Nineteen years.
And what progress have we made?
Considerable, I should say.
Have we?
In the whole of Queensland, there is not one mile of railway under construction.
There are no telegraph cables.
Communication with Sydney is once a week by steamship.
There's a desperate shortage of housing for immigrants.
And to cap it all, the squatters and the townspeople are still at each other's throats.
I wonder if Sir George knows what he's in for.
But think of the benefits that will come from separation.
Our own parliament, our own laws,
our own solutions to our problems.
The people in the community aren't enemies.
They're men, women and children living in a town.
A small one, certainly.
But we're going to grow, Captain. Grow.
Now come inside and let's announce the government has arrived.
The end of an era.
God save the Queen and her new land.
May they both prosper.
The End