Chapter 41: Chapter 41
.
The glaziers came out straight after the new year and installed new panes of glass in
the display windows to replace those smashed by Benno.
Mr Gladman had learned something from his ordeal for now there were signs on the
shop, large ones, announcing a grand sale of musical instruments due to an imminent
move to new premises in Collins Street
While the detective was looking for him Benno had gone to his friend Wocka's place
by Wocka's invitation. Everyone knew him as Wocka, and were not aware of any
other name. Mrs Wocka was outraged at the foolishness of offering Benno sanctuary
on any terms, but decided he could stay for a short while, a very short while.
She was wary of having Benno anywhere near her husband; he was easily led astray
The Young Marvel
237
and Benno was just the man to do it. After they made a late and noisy return from an
unauthorised visit to the pub next evening she assaulted them both with a frying pan,
then locked Wocka in and locked Benno out. It was after this incident, when he had
nowhere to go, that Benno was arrested by Detective Jones while wandering around
the city.
Since his escape from the law Gabriel had heard little of him. Several ships arrived in
port and he and his mates worked long hours loading and unloading cargo, with little
time for getting into trouble.
Gabriel was now doing all the work of managing the agency while his partner
campaigned to win a seat in Parliament.
Running for parliament was arduous work and called for long hours of attendance at
various hotels in the city; much backslapping and standing rounds of drinks.
Financially this was not a problem.
The committee, after some hesitation and indignation, raised their offer of assistance
to £400 and, with a matching show of hesitation and indignation on his part, Mr
Pryor at last accepted the money and confided to Gabriel that he would have taken
£350. He discovered later, to his regret, that the committee would have gone to £450.
Still, £400 was a generous amount with which to fight the campaign. Charles
Edmunds, the theatrical agent, was his partner in this batle.
Edmunds was a self proclaimed genius in the design of theatre posters. He asserted
frequently that his posters would drag crowds into any theatre, no matter what the
quality of the show.
He set to with enthusiasm and soon after bill posters were hard at work everywhere
pasting up the results of his genius on every vacant wall and tenement where there
was the least bit of space. All over town were to be seen highly coloured portraits of
James Pryor and Edmunds with their names in florid lettering underneath and
exhortations to vote for them at the forthcoming Victorian elections.
The same or similar messages were carried round the streets by shambling sandwich
men. The last attempt to convey a message by these means had been too ambitious, or
so everyone agreed, because they had to rely on the sandwich men being able to read
and stay in their proper order. They were discharged as a group after the message
about Mr Gladman's sale became hopelessly jumbled and now there was only one
slogan per man.
Gabriel studied the posters but could find little resemblance to the two person he
knew. Anyone unable to read might have the impression that a new faith healer was
in town and touting for business.
The portraits had been commissioned by Edmunds from a local commercial artist
who specialized in cartoons for soap advertisements and theatrical posters. there was
little difference between the two pictures They were both shown, chin up and head
The Young Marvel
238
back as though gazing into the distance and looking far into Victoria's future. At least
Gabriel presumed this was the intention of the artist. The man specialized in bright
colours and these crept into the portrait's complexion seeming to indicate that its
subject imbibed as much claret as Mr Briggs. No doubt the intention was to make
them look noble and thoughtful, but something had gone amiss with the portraits and
the staring eyes, gave them a manic air. Gabriel did not make any adverse comment
about the posters because the two principals in the campaign admired them greatly
and seemed well satisified with the result.
The government party had sponsored another candidate for the same seat, a radical
merchant, Mr Samuel Jobley, who had raised himself by tremendous efforts from
ordinary seaman to be an enterprising, wealthy, grocer. The man never omitted to tell
his audiences at political rallies that he had sailed to the four corners of the world and
seen the wonders thereof, but dived overboard and swam ashore when his ship came
to Melbourne and anchored in Hobson's bay.
From there, evading the authorities, he made his way on foot to the goldfields but
found little profit digging for gold. After a few months fossicking and working
unprofitable claims he drifted back to Melbourne and started amassing his fortune.
His story never included the interesting detail that his career was immeasurably
advanced by marriage to the daughter, the only child, of a successful grocer, and the
even more fortunate, though untimely, death of his father-in-law.
Like many men of his class he worked hard and drove shrewd bargains but his lucky
marriage to the grocery business was the real basis of his fortune.
The man always concluded his orations by telling of the bright future awaiting any
working man who was prepared to labour hard, refrain from strong drink, and take
advantage of the great opportunities offering in this far flung corner of the British
Empire.
He was a formidable opponent, a good match for that dynamic and eloquent young
business man James Pryor. The first skirmishes in the campaign consisted of their
enthusiastic helpers tearing down or overpasting posters put up by the other
candidate. After a while this became so wearing that intermediaries met and gained
an accommodation whereby, within reason, each side respected the others
advertising.
The politics of the two opponents did not differ greatly except in detail, though each
predicted the eventual collapse of Victoria's economy if the other's party was
returned to the Treasury Benches.
The main difference between the two was their attitude to drink. Though abstemious
and careful himself Mr Pryor had no objection to treating his constituents to copious
quantities of beer in pursuit of their esteem and votes. Mr Samuel Jobley, on the other
hand, was an aggressive teetotaller. After returning from the goldfields he had joined
the Independent Church and also a local chapter of the anti-drink society and had
renewed a childhood pledge, taken under the influence of the Junior auxiliary of the
The Young Marvel
239
local Band of Hope, never to touch beer or strong drink in any form.
Because of Mr Pryor's known habits of frequenting hotels and consorting with
drinkers he was running on a strong anti drink platform while managing to convey
the belief that Mr Pryor was being supported by the publicans of Melbourne. It was
implied that his opponent, if elected, would work for longer hotel trading hours and
aim for the eventual triumph of the demon drink. Mr Jobley, in contrast, would labour
to curtail opening hours and towards the happy outcome of a total ban on drinking in
Victoria.
He had the enthusiastic support of the prohibitionists of which there were many in
the colony at that time. The young, unmarried members had their own chapter of the
Anti Drink Society and were further pledged to convert other young people to the joys
of abstinence and religion. If any unfortunate youth could not be turned by prayer
and example from the desire for strong drink they would cast off the offender and
have nothing further to do with him or her.
They provided enthusiastic workers for Mr Jobley's campaign and every night there
were torchlit temperance processions through the streets with posters of Jobley held
aloft as though his very picture would be sufficient to drive the powers of darkness
from the City of Melbourne.
The drinkers of Melbourne stood firm for Mr Pryor. The hotels would empty when
one of Jobley's processions passed by and the patrons would line the pavement to jeer
and cat-call while holding aloft glasses and bottles to drink ironic toasts to the
prohibitionist groups. They would be answered by cries of, 'Booze is the downfall of
the working man' and, 'give your wages to your wives, not the publicans and 'Oh, that
man should put an enemy in his mouth to steal away his brains,'.
The younger and better looking female temperance workers had their own cry, which
was considered most bold. ‘Lips that touch shall never touch mine.''
Edmunds had pressed Pryor and Fox's office in Swanston Street into service in the
campaign. The agency had a show window on either side of the front door with a floor
area of less than half of Mr Gladman"s shop. Both windows had been completely
covered with posters trumpeting Victoria's desperate need to have Messrs Pryor and
Edmunds as representatives of its interests in the State Parliament, and hinting at the
disasters that would follow if they were not elected.
Until the two sides came to an agreement it had been the first duty of the clerks every
morning to peel away unauthorised political posters stuck on overnight. Now they
merely had to repair or replace the portraits where they had been decorated by
unknown, disrespectful persons with scribbled whiskers, or a pipe or various kinds of
hats.
As well as showing the political allegiance of the establishment by these means all the
staff, including Gabriel, were issued with blue cockades, Mr Pryor's colours. This was
all very well but the window posters blocked out much of the natural light and made
The Young Marvel
240
the office quite dim. They had to have the gaslights on all day, else the clerks would
have strained their eyes working on the ledgers.
Benno and his mates soon noted the great battle of the posters and one day appeared
as a deputation in the office. They declared their total support for Mr Pryor's
candidacy and offered to recruit other friends of low persuasion and disrupt Jobley's
campaign. They had heard of Mr Jobley's aim of shortening the hours during which
hotels could remain open and closing the numerous breweries catering for the thirst
of the citizens of Victoria. They had rooted objections to any such course of action and
considered Mr Jobley as their natural enemy. The first proposal put forward by Benno
and his companions was to rip down every surviving Jobley poster, then put a stop to
the processions and finally attend his meetings and make enough noise to drown out
any speech he might care to make.
They listened with disbelief and indignation to Gabriel's plea to stay away from both
campaigns. It was difficult for them to understand that Mr Pryor's political career
would not be advanced by their intervention. They filed out of the office at last angry
and frustrated that their proposed and well meaning contribution to the political
process had been rejected in this way, but still resolved to take to take a leading part
in the campaign.
The possibility of a win by Jobley was considered so alarming the publicans and
proprietors of the metropolitan breweries had an informal meeting and levied
themselves and absent members £5 each to contribute to Mr Pryor's campaign. They
forwarded it with a promise of more if necessary. Mr Pryor returned a gracious note
thanking them for the money and suggesting that matters were so desperate another,
similar donation would be needed if there was to be any hope of turning the political
tide. He was delighted when a second cheque arrived and commented to Gabriel, who
noted that a number of substantial citizens were now contributing to the cause, that
win or lose they would end up making a large profit on his first attempt to become an
MP.
Mr Pryor's talent for publicity and his willingness to express an opinion on any issues
of interest to journalists led to lengthy reports in the daily papers, all of which
highlighted his political skill and business shrewdness. The stories were widely read
and commented on so more and more of the general public heard of Mr Pryor and his
burgeoning careers.
Most spoke of him approvingly as a rising young man who had far to go in the
business and political life of Victoria.
Their firm was now more under public notice than ever and starting to build up a
register of properties for sale as well as establishing a valuable rent roll. Their
position as well respected young financiers was enhanced by a constant flow of
business connected with the Melbourne and London Amicable Building Society. The
political campaign and publicity seemed to provide a great stimulus to business for
intending clients would come in and look round for Mr Pryor. It was disappointing
The Young Marvel
241
not to meet him on the spot but Gabriel was able to deal with them quite well and no
business was lost because of his absence.
Gabriel had engaged other clerks to assist, as well as salesmen who worked mainly
outside but the office was now terribly cramped and there was an urgent need for
larger premises. If they were to retain the shop in Swanston Street it would at least be
necessary to find another shop, or offices to take the overflow of employees. When
Gabriel was able to catch Mr Pryor's attention long enough to discuss the matter it
was decided suitable offices would have to be found for the Melbourne and London
Amicable Building Society in Collins Street, now undoubtedly, the financial centre of
the town.
An address in Collins Street was the only possible one for such a vigorous institution
of growing importance. The centre for the building operations would be well placed
in the same offices if possible, but the estate agency should definitely stay in
Swanston Street.
Mr Pryor had to bustle away again. It was a Friday and Edmunds had decided on a
torchlight procession for that night to rival those of Mr Jobley. They were to march
through the streets preceded by a brass band in smart red uniforms with drums
beating, banners flying and promises of drinks for those supporters who cheered the
loudest for Mr Pryor and booed the loudest at any reference to Jobley. At the
conclusion of the parade the principal figure in all this fuss and show was to deliver
an open air address to the citizens of Melbourne. It was to be a grand and eloquent
speech which would mark the formal opening of his election campaign.
At this desperate and crucial moment in the history of Victoria, as he described it, the
manoeuvering beforehand would be forgotten and the minor skirmishes treated only
as preliminaries.
As far as Mr Pryor was concerned what had gone before, his publicly expressed
indignation at the duplicity and wickedness of the Berry Government, the tearing
down of Jobley's posters, the rumours about his opponent's character and
trustworthiness, which had spread like lightning through the electorate, was no more
than the ritual trumpet blowing and abuse that Chinese armies of old employed to
overawe one another before any battle could formally commence.
The serious work of demolishing the Berry Government and its candidate was to
begin that very night. It was imperative that he rehearse his speech in front of a
mirror, memorise the most telling points and jokes, and make sure it was written out
clearly for the reporters so that every word and every sarcastic reference to his
opponent would appear in the papers the following day.
James Pryor went away to prepare himself for the great test while Gabriel supervised
the pinning of blue cockades to the hats of the staff. No clerk could possibly come to
work unless wearing a hat so when they were let out an hour early that afternoon to
attend the meeting and procession, which was to start promptly at seven, the group
were clearly seen to be in the conservative camp and supporters of Mr Pryor.
The Young Marvel
242
Pringle, the chief clerk, was last to leave. Gabriel had to wait a short time at the door
while he reluctantly shut his ledger after making a final entry. He would have spoken
but Gabriel seemed in a hurry to close the office, as indeed he was. He had promised
to attend the procession and meeting, and wanted to go and see Amy and have
something to eat before going out again.
Pringle pursed his lips and turned as they stood for a moment in the recess between
the footpath and the front door. Gabriel was about to lock them both out of the office.
He said, "Do you want me to start tomorrow drawing cheques for the quarterly
interest payments?"
"Are they due?" asked Gabriel, taken by surprise. All the recent events had made him
forget their obligations.
"Yes, the payments must be made next week, or the office will be in default. Will I
start drawing the cheques up tomorrow, ready for signing?
"Yes, that's allright. When they are ready we will catch Mr Pryor, tie him to the chair if
necessary so he will stay in one place long enough to sign them all."
Pringle did not respond to this mild joke but nodded thoughtfully, said goodnight and
went away, hardly noticing the people around him. When out of sight of the office,
and hidden in the throng hurrying towards the railway station, he unpinned the
cockade from his hat and threw it away.
The procession was to assemble in Bourke Street East, not far from the Post Office. It
was easily found by following the vigorous strains of music from the band and seeing
colourful groups of marchers, many wearing sashes, as they moved into their places.
They were to march straight up Bourke Street to the Eastern Market, which was still
being built, and there fall out round the corner in Stephen Street to be addressed by
Mr Pryor. In former years political meetings were held in the aisles between the
market sheds but the builders were in possession now.
Stephen Street was not a reputable street; a haunt of prostitutes and larrikins, and
many of the boarding houses had doubtful reputations. However the police would not
permit meetings in Bourke Street they disrupted traffic and frightened the horses.
Stephen Street was less busy, mainly because respectable folk did not go there much.
Gabriel had heard some talk of changing its name to Exhibition Street in order to get
rid of old associations and honour the Grand Melbourne Exhibition which would be
opened later next year.
He arived in good time, shortly before seven, to find a large crowd near the Post Office
and Edmunds haranguing the sandwich board men and pushing them into some sort
of order. He made sure each had a blue cockade pinned firmly to his hat so as not to
blow away in the night wind or be knocked off by a political opponent if there should
be any hostilities. The sandwich board men were assigned the extra duty of carrying
flaming torches for illumination and to lend colour to the parade. Mr Edmunds had
wanted to let off fire crackers and rockets along the way but the police firmly vetoed
The Young Marvel
243
this suggestion, though the Inspector agreed to Roman Candles being displayed as
long as the men held them in their hands; they were not to be thrown around.
Gabriel was surprised at first to see such a large number of people getting ready to
march, and their enthusiasm, until he realized that a rival parade in support of Jobley
was assembling in much the same area to proceed to a similar destination. There was
some jeering and chiacking going on between the groups; fairly good humoured, but
Gabriel saw, with a start, that Benno and his friends were present. All had been
issued with blue cockades and wore them defiantly on their hats and caps. Jobley's
supporters were identified with orange and blue sashes draped over the right
shoulder, the colours of the Temperance League.
On the whole Jobley's adherents seemed more respectable than Pryor's; most of
Pryor's people had been hired by Edmunds, including the brass band, though there
were a few genuine supporters present, not counting Benno and his friends, that is.
Gabriel could not help but wish that a large ship had come up the river that night with
an urgent cargo in need of immediate unloading. He would have much preferred
Benno's absence to his presence.
A large man in what appeared to be full regimentals with a huge bearskin busby on
his head was helping Edmunds marshal the parade. He was to march at its head with
his baton twirling, escorting Mr Pryor in the place of honour.
Mr Pryor's procession was about to move off when more band music was heard. It
became louder, and all eyes turned towards Queen Street from where the sound
came. A large four wheeler, big as a bus, was coming as fast as the traffic would allow.
Drawn by four horses over the crossing it pulled up in fine style after passing the rival
groups. This vehicle was decorated with banners in support of Jobley and there were
people sitting on the roof waving his placards.
The music was coming from a band in the four wheeler, the members of which were
wearing orange and blue sashes over their uniforms. Some band members were
sitting on cross benches inside and some on top while the band leader stood
alongside the driver in such a position that his conducting could be seen by the
players from above and below.
Having passed them, the driver stopped the vehicle, and who was to be seen but Mr
Jobley standing on the top deck. This platform was usually reached by a set of steps
but these, at present, were stowed under the floor.
The wagon was no sooner stationary than that gentleman limped out to be seen and
admired by the crowd. Even the most inattentive passerby would be aware that Mr
Jobley and his wagon had arrived. The band played a fanfare and the drummers
earned their money if men ever did with the energy they expended on the kettle
drums, while their efforts were underscored by a steady thumping on the bass drum.
The Young Marvel
244
His supporters broke ranks and clustered at the rear of the wagon cheering loudly
and clapping while Mr Pryor's adherents, led by Benno and his friends, groaned and
booed in a counter demonstration. Mr Jobley, who had a figure made ample from
years of good living, smiled and raised his top hat repeatedly to acknowledge the
cheers until it was knocked out of his hand by a flying tomato.
At this unexpected attack everyone was silenced and looked round to see who was
responsible. Gabriel instantly glanced at Benno but that individual and his friends
seemed the very mirrors of innoncence, though Gabriel did not care for their broad
grins and triumphant looks.
It was now the turn of the Jobleyites to boo and shake their banners. But Mr Jobley
raised his arms, calling for quiet. Someone found his hat and it was returned stained
and dented. He shook his head and held it up for all to behold.
"My friends, he boomed, "The state of my hat shows the level to which political
contention has sunk in this fair colony of Victoria, a glorious jewel in Britannia's
crown. Words should be the true missiles of debate. Facts and eternal truths are the
artillery with which we assault the bastions of deceit, ideas are the rifles with which
we shoot down error. But who among us would stoop so low as to use fruit, the
products of the creator, to score a point instead of employing rational argument?"
This incident had delayed the start of both processions, and traffic in Bourke Street
was slowed almost to a crawl. After a while they were at the centre of a great throng
of people as passers by were mixed up with the contending parties and a great mass
of vehicles, carts, cabs, buses, private carriages, and the like were held up both ways,
and in Elizabeth Street as well. Drivers were standing on their boxes to see what was
causing the sudden stop and passengers on the tops of buses craned up from their
seats.
Mr Jobley had not intended to make a speech at that time; he was merely going to
show himself and then ride on the wagon to Stephen Street with the band playing and
his followers marching behind. The attack with the tomato made him forget this part
of the itinerary and he started to harangue the crowd, something he had promised not
to do.
The police had emphasised to all candidates that there would be no stump orations in
Bourke Street and they would be allowed to stay on sufferance for only a short while
in Stephen Street.
Mr Jobley had forgotten and sawed at the air with his arms while shouting that the
person who threw the tomato, no doubt was a miserable victim of drink, and in the
merciless grip of the grape. He was urging the poor, lost drunkards present to sign the
pledge of abstinence from all malted and spirituous liquor and vote for Jobley when
several more tomatoes rapidly followed the first. One hit a bandsman, two others
splattered against the side of the wagon, but the fourth hit Jobley on the chest, ruining
his expensive, flowered waist coat.
The Young Marvel
245
Gabriel had been watching. It was Benno and the others who were the
marksmen. They had smuggled bags of rotten fruit into the crowd and now were
cheerfully dipping into them for fresh ammunition.
Gabriel rushed over and caught Benno by the arm just as he was about to launch
another missile; Wocka was too quick to be stopped and too accurate to be diverted;
he threw an overripe tomato which spattered on Jobley's check trousers.
"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" shouted Gabriel, snatching away one
of the bags.
"Fair suck o' the sausage, Gabby," retorted Benno, indignant that his contribution to
Australian democracy was being interrupted in this unseemly manner. "Gimme them
termaters back. Don't you worry, we'll get your bloke up at the election. The boys are
going to stand outside the polling booths and thump anyone that goes in to vote the
wrong way. And we're going to run this feller Jobley out'a town while we're on the
job. Come on Gabby, hand 'em over. You can have a throw too, yourself, if yer like."
"Just keep out of it!" said the exasperated Gabriel. "Don't you dare have anything to do
with this election. Keep away from it and keep your friends away too. If there's a way
of losing you'll find it for us. You do it again and I'll report you to the police. Give me
that!" He snatched the other bag of fruit away from Wocka who was too much taken
aback to resist.