JOHN STREHLOW NEWSLETTER Number 1, 1 December 2023
Thank you for signing up for my newsletter, which I plan to send out on a monthly basis. As you know, commencing in 1994 I spent twenty-five years researching, writing and publishing The Tale of Frieda Keysser, which is a very long time indeed to write one book, even a very large one. At times I thought I might never get to the end of it, for most people in the Strehlow family don’t live much beyond 70 and I was 73 by the time Volume Two was launched in Alice Springs on 17 December 2019. I think I am now older than anyone in my direct male line – ever. What a thought! My friends told me it was all taking too long and I ought to just rush through to get to the end years before, but there was simply so much to discover and nobody had ever even looked at most of it, let alone drawn on the information it contained. So – ignoring all advice to the contrary – I decided I had no option but to continue to plough on through thick and thin and would just have to hope I made it through to the end. I did – and I’m very glad I didn’t just rush the ending. It would have been a big mistake to rush the closing stages, and would have defeated the very purpose of setting the record straight I had set myself at the beginning of this very long journey.
Naturally I came across all sorts of information which I personally found fascinating but couldn’t include in the book because I had to tell a story which was already impossibly complicated and long. So I did the only thing possible – I put it to one side and thought, if I ever reach the end of this saga, maybe I can do something with it later. I am currently working on a book all about the process of writing of The Tale. I am calling it Investigating a Forgotten Past. It is taking rather longer than anticipated, but progress is good and with luck I shall be able to publish it early next year as an e-book. I have not used this format before, but it seems I am somewhat out of step with the times: lots of people now read e-books. It will also be available as a PDF, with perhaps a POD (print-on-demand) version as well. I hope you will find it fascinating when it’s finished. It’s going to be a modest-sized book, probably around 50,000 words, so not a further brain-buster. It will be purchasable directly from my website, which is due for a major upgrade in the immediate future. Later there will be a print version, maybe even an audiobook, since people are now asking for such things, though I shall have to learn how to do this, for it’s a complicated process and I gather it’s also expensive to do.
This new book I am working on is intended to include some of the interesting or intriguing things I put to one side while pressing on just to finally get to the end of the magnum opus. Some will be anecdotal, some will be straight-out informative, some will be of interest to people with a general interest in the topic but not specific to The Tale. One of the reasons I have always had an interest in non-fiction in preference to fiction is that in general I find the truth much stranger than fiction, and usually far more interesting.
If possible I intend to include something rather fun in each newsletter, just to avoid giving the impression that everything of importance is deadly serious. Humour is part of just about everything good for us, especially today, when nearly all the official news is depressing and deliberately made so in order to attract people’s interest: as they say, only bad news is real news, anything good can’t be news, and the rest is irrelevant trivia. My experience contradicts this: people say and do all manner of entertaining things which are important, and though I was tied down to the main story, at times I became completely caught up in the sideshow and had to tear myself away from it to keep my eye on the goal I had set myself, or I would simply never have arrived.
One such sideshow event occurred when I was in Bamberg, a very charming medieval-baroque Catholic city north of Nuremberg which fortunately wasn’t bombed in World War Two so retains all its centuries-old charm, complete with hidden nooks and crannies. I spent a lot of time researching and writing there. I discovered it in the 1990s while running my theatre company and we always had large, enthusiastic audiences roll up to our shows, often doing as many as four performances in the city theatre to fit them all in. Outside the touring I used to talk to people about my book, and they of course were keen to offer me advice, though when I asked if they had ever written a book themselves and were speaking from experience, the answer was usually no. I discussed with them my problem of how to finance an operation taking so many years to accomplish, and when we had exhausted this topic we got on to how I was being overwhelmed with information and the question of how on earth I could organise it. What follows is an excerpt from my latest book. It is my account of an anecdote I was told as a joke. I greatly enjoyed it and hope you will too.
WORTH A THOUGHT: THE NUREMBERG FUNNEL
“Financial advice was not the only thing people offered me during the project: there was also advice on how to cope with the burgeoning information at my disposal. One such piece of advice concerned the so-called Nürnberger Trichter or “Nuremberg Funnel”. I was in Bamberg (about 70 km north of Nuremberg) talking to a certain learned Dr M. about my project when he suggested that what I really needed to absorb and take on board so much information was this Nuremberg Funnel. I had never heard of such a contraption, so he explained it to me in some detail. This was a device in the shape of a large funnel designed to fit on top of the human head, to which it could be fixed with a kind of harness so as to make a snug fit which wouldn’t allow any of the substances passing through the Funnel to leak out of the sides. When it was securely in place, a large jug filled to the brim with knowledge would be brought to the person in need of learning assistance, poured into the head through the Funnel and hey presto! he – or in this modern age also she – would with no personal effort acquire the knowledge needed to pass their exams. They could then carry on living a life of indulgence and lackadaisical idleness while sporting a degree proclaiming they had gone through higher education. I was told the Funnel had been invented back in the 17th century for students from an aristocratic background who were unused to making effort on their own behalf, since they had grown up surrounded by retainers, maid servants and the like who not merely did all their work for them but also their thinking as well. One short session with the Funnel – for a commensurate fee of course – and their parasite existence could continue indefinitely without abatement. The Funnel became known out to the farthest reaches of the Holy Roman Empire, with would-be seekers after knowledge journeying for months over hundreds of miles of muddy, potholed roads, risking life and limb in hair-raising accidents or running the gauntlet of dangers such as bandits hiding out in forests along the wayside, purely to acquire this easy knowledge through the Funnel. I was of course keen to see the device at work, especially that harness arrangement which held it securely to the head, since it seemed to me this was the key to the whole contraption. But then came the bad news. According to Doctor M., many years ago a daring burglary was carried out in the vault of the Burg at Nuremberg where the Funnel was securely stowed under lock and key, and it disappeared without a trace. Since that time, despite seekers after knowledge spending years desperately searching, no one has ever seen it again. The days of easy learning were over: those who wanted to learn, would have to apply themselves or else become reconciled to a permanent state of ignorance. I did by the way some time later go to the Burg in Nuremberg looking for the
Funnel, but when I arrived they said the place was closed since it was a Monday. More’s the pity . . . .”
***
Of the many things I had to put to one side while writing The Tale, the most important are Frieda’s own account of her life (Lebenslauf) and her diaries, since between them they provided the through-line to this entire enormous story. Even now I can hardly believe she wrote so much down: it is an astonishing record of life on the Australian frontier from 1895 to 1922. I know of no other detailed diary record from this place and time about life out there, so I believe her diaries are unique. When my current book is finished, I hope to publish them in English in sections, which means first translating them from the hand-written German. As a source of reliable information from someone who was actually living out on the frontier, not someone trying to imagine living out there from letters or reportage, I think her diaries are without compare and I have quoted selected passages throughout The Tale. In total they comprise thousands of pages, and include everyday life events in Central Australia, journeys Frieda made, as well as her thoughts on what she read in the newspapers; they also refer to people who in many cases are not mentioned anywhere else as far as I am aware. This applies especially to aboriginal people, who in most accounts from this era are simply ignored as if they never existed at all. The standard pioneer histories almost invariably leave them out of the picture: apparently there was no interest in them by white society at the time, not even in passing, and though Doris Blackwell’s Alice on the Line does contain some reference to those living at the telegraph station in Alice Springs while she was growing up there at the turn of the nineteenth century, the information is fragmentary and piecemeal – those few people mentioned invariably have the obligatory nicknames like “Tom” or “Joe” because no white person spoke a word of the local language so couldn’t pronounce their real names; we also don’t know where these people came from, or who their relatives were if they had any, and if they died from measles or some other cause, their death is also rarely recorded. It is completely unsatisfactory.
Frieda was different: as a missionary she took a keen interest in all aboriginal people within her orbit, and since she was also fluent in Aranda, her diaries are a source of information which is almost unique in this regard too. It means that the guesswork and assumption which comprise nearly everything else written about this area can thankfully be avoided. This is especially true of those who lived at the Mission itself: if they visited another station like Henbury or went to Alice Springs this is recorded, and usually when they returned as well. From the diaries it is easy to see how inadequate the seemingly accurate picture of life on the Mission as represented by recognised experts like Spencer or Gillen actually is.
At the start of Volume One of The Tale of Frieda Keysser I said I was writing chiefly for those people who had already concluded as a result of their own investigations that what they had heard on this or that topic treated in my book did not entirely add up – if you like, that one plus one was not always making two. This is a real problem, because by definition, one plus one always makes two. One aspect of this newsletter, then, is to look at various matters where this problem has arisen, and to offer information which might – just might – offer clarification.
It will also offer information on topics which is perhaps not known to people who would like to know about it, if they were aware it existed and knew where to find it; some people may even really need to know it. I became aware of most of this information purely by chance while researching my book and it was a constant source of refreshment and surprise to come across useful new data I had no idea existed, buried as it often was in letters
in German handwriting which I am reasonably confident had never been looked at by those who had written on the topic in question so copiously in English. A classic example is the information about the affliction often referred to as yaws – in Volume One of my book it is given its Aranda name irakuntjia. For my information see p. 601 passim.
My hope is that this newsletter will provide stimulus in an area where for too long the platitudes of yesteryear – even yestercentury – have stifled enquiry, offering theory in place of specific information which at least opens the possibility we may unravel some of these conundrums. I sincerely hope this endeavour will succeed.
Because I have not done anything like this since I helped set up a cinema magazine called “Cinesa” in 1967 when I was running the Adelaide University Film society with a friend, I shall probably take some time to find my feet, so I hope you will be patient with me if there are hiccups in the process. I dare say there will be.
At this early stage the blueprint I envisage for the newsletter should contain three things:
- An account of progress on goals such as further publications. Frieda’s diaries are the chief target I have in mind here: they contain so much valuable/fascinating/ unique/priceless information it would be a pity if they were to remain unavailable to those interested in her personal life story, a story which has fascinated me for so long.
- What I am calling Echo from the Past, by which I mean excerpts from my own personal diary which may be of interest. The writing of this book took me on an amazing pilgrimage to different places where I met all kinds of people I doubt I would otherwise have met, and for most of the journey I kept a diary purely to be able to remember what I had discovered, the places I had been to, and the people I had met.
- I hope also to make available public talks I originally gave with Powerpoint at the various places where I held launches of my book. I intend to later publish some of these talks in pamphlet form, an idea I have taken from my father, whose many pamphlets were a wonderful resource for people interested in his themes and his topics.
There is one further matter, but I am as yet unsure if it is a good idea:
4. Depending on how things develop, I may organise some kind of Q&A session between readers of the newsletter and myself about book content, if this seems to be wanted and time is available.
ODDITY OF THE MONTH:
This item is intended to awaken interest in anomalous matters which surround the main themes of my subject.
“Why did so many people claiming to be anthropologists come to mission stations like Hermannsburg, spend time there studying the people using the freely given help of the missionaries, then return home and after using variable amounts of the information they had been provided with, write books condemning the whole venture as a waste of time, representing the missionaries as deluded simpletons?”
ECHO FROM THE PAST:
This is my diary record of the trip I made from Marree in the far north of South Australia to Killalpaninna, the Dieri Mission where Carl started on his work in Australia and so of key importance to my biography. I had with me an English friend, Dr Tony Flower, who had always said he wanted to make a trip to Australia and flew out specially to join me on the trip to this abandoned mission and then on up into the Northern Territory. I had never been to Killalpaninna before, so it was just as big an adventure of discovery for me as it was for him.
Fri. Feb. 1, 2008: Had breakfast talking to Belinda Jackson, a journalist who writes for the Sydney Morning Herald, and is here on a trip with her photographer Randy Farcombe (is this a real name?) doing an article about pubs along the Oodnadatta Track. She did not pick up on my references to writing a book. I was included in a few shots taken of Laurie at the bar. She also got my email. We left at a relaxed hour and set off up the Birdsville Track for Killalpaninna Mission, since Laurie had said it was quite possible to drive out there in a normal vehicle. The exhaust [on my car] definitely doesn’t seem right, though it is not actually noisy yet, but I fear it may be soon. En route we stopped at the former Lake Harry Date plantations, now abandoned, where they tried to grow dates in the 1880s and 90s. It was not a success, so now there is basically nothing there; the information on the plaque alongside was excellent. I knew nothing about this venture from my studies, so was fascinated to read about it, since it must have been still up and running when Carl came in 1892. We got to Etadunna at around 11 and got the key from the lady at the station, which curiously does not have its name outside but does have a large steel cross erected at the entrance. She also gave me a map which was most fortuitous since otherwise one would simply never persevere long enough to arrive. The road is a real track like those I learned to drive on in the southeast, with sandy drifts and dodgy sections, clearly very little used. We did in the end make it, though it took about 40 minutes since I drove slowly and carefully and it is around 11 miles out there. Much of the country seemed to be the flood plains of the Cooper’s Creek, white sandy soil with low-ish half-sick trees due to lack of water growing on it. They say the Cooper is going to come down soon with all the rain which has fallen in Queensland, and the flood has already reached Innamincka, so maybe the lake will fill. This time it appeared dry, though perhaps there is water under the surface. It was very hot, and in its current condition the whole venture seems like a wasted effort, with Vogelsang’s grave alongside Edwin Reuther’s grave a poignant reminder of times past, and J.G. Reuther’s being away with CS in Hermannsburg when his darling son died. Very glad I went, even if there is really nothing much to see. There is a clear need for some kind of signposting if one is to make anything of it all now. Flierl’s church has disappeared more or less without a trace. I took a few photos just to have a record and also to put in the book if this seems appropriate when the time comes. Probably won’t be back here again. We drove back in what seemed very quick time, and gave back the key. The woman was not very talkative, so I just took a photo or two of the iron cross and then drove back to Marree. Here we had a pasty at the roadhouse, tanked up and then drove to William Creek. Just as we were leaving Marree I saw a sign to Hergott Springs, so drove there and was fascinated to see the actual springs, which have been dug out in two places close to each other, round pools about 15 feet or more wide, with shovelfuls of dark grey mud piled up alongside. From the colour of the mud and general lack of vegetation like river gums I suspect the springs would be fairly foul and salty, but as a result of this digging the actual water was clearly exposed and looked a greenish colour. There is a concrete tank there set a little back from the springs, and also the remains of what looks like a low windmill. I took several photographs in case they are useful for the book, then set off north again. Along the way I saw one of the famous mound springs, so we stopped and climbed to the top, taking several photos also potentially for the book. I think a few well chosen colour photos can say volumes, especially in conveying what such things really are, since they are quite unique to this part of the world I should think. Flower found all this very interesting. We
then drove on to Strangways which was really just wrecked, with most of the walls now simply piles of stones, though they have tried to build up several sections again, and in my view ought to put the place back as it was when I first came here in 1973, complete with thatch. Had a look at one of the mound springs here too, and took various photos of the ruins since these too may be useful for the book. There are in fact several mound springs at this place, not just the one they indicate on the plaques. These plaques are excellent, and explain everything, and are just what is needed at Killalpaninna. We got into William Creek at around 8 pm. Belinda and Randy were there, as were around 20 other people either in the bar or in the seating outside. Kitchen was closed for steak sandwiches, so we had a couple of pasties and beers and then after some more chat to Belinda and Randy (mostly about his cameras, and whether the digitals are now as good as the Hasselblad, which he thought from around 13,000 pixels they are), we put our tents up. The wind was blowing quite hard and it was not easy putting them up. Stars were very attractive up above. It was quite hot all night, but I slept well, though TF didn’t.
I included three photos from the Killalpaninna ruins in Volume Two of The Tale: Images IIa/1a, IIa/2b and IIc/1.
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