Locked out, p.9
Locked Out, page 9
Once the booing and chatter had died down, Jimmy then held up a copy of the Newcastle Morning Herald, which had a picture of John Brown on it with the headline, John “the Baron” Brown takes a break. The article went on to say that John Brown, satisfied that the new Act will quell the unrest amongst the miners, is heading up to “Wills Gully”, his horse stud just outside the township of Singleton in the Hunter Valley next weekend for a rest.’
‘So, they have beaten us, Jimmy?’ John said.
‘No, John, now we have to act in kind…fight fire with fire, if you know what I mean,’ Jimmy replied.
John gave Jimmy an acknowledging look before leaving the Communist Party headquarters via the front door.
John Brown awoke early the following morning. His property in Singleton was just under an hour’s drive from his home in Newcastle and he was looking forward to spending some time with his horses. He quickly scoffed down some breakfast and dressed before telling his driver to get the car out.
An hour later, they drove into “Wills Gully”, a property he inherited from his father. After letting John Brown out of the car outside the front of the homestead, the driver drove the car two hundred yards further to the garage where he parked and went inside the adjoining cottage to make himself a cup of tea to sit and relax until he was again required.
After opening up the homestead to let the air and light in, John Brown walked back out onto the front porch where he intended to sit for a while to relax before walking down to the stables to speak with the property manager.
John saw this as his best opportunity and lined John Brown up in his rifle sights as Brown stood still just to the side of the front door. When he had a good bead on his quarry, John squeezed the trigger. But as he did, John Brown began to lower himself down into the chair behind him.
The bullet dug into the door frame just above John Brown’s head, causing him to panic and stumble forward hitting the verandah floor with a thud. He lay flat and still as fear pervaded his mind. His eyes were searching in all directions when he heard footsteps rushing towards him.
‘Mr Brown, are you alright?’ The driver said as he rushed up the steps to the verandah.
John Brown looked up and reached out to his driver as he stood over him. ‘Did you see who it was?’ John Brown mumbled.
‘No, Mr Brown,’ the driver answered as he again quickly surveyed the area.
‘It must have been one of those bloody Communists. I was told that they might try something like this. That bloody Jimmy Coles has been telling his members that if they get rid of me, their troubles would be over,’ John Brown muttered. ‘Help me up, man,’ he then demanded of the driver.
When John Brown was standing, the driver said, ‘That bullet was directly in line with your head, Mr Brown. I can’t see how it missed you.’
John Brown looked at the hole in the door frame and said, ‘I must have just started to sit down, which saved me.’
‘It could have been a stray shot from someone out hunting,’ the driver said.
‘That wasn’t a stray shot. That was an attempt on my life,’ John Brown retorted. ‘Get the car out, we are going back into Newcastle.’
‘Aren’t you going to report it to the local police, Mr Brown?’ the driver asked.
‘No, I’m going to hire some detectives to locate the bastard who is responsible and then I’m going to have him tracked down and beaten to death,’ John Brown replied with venom in his words.
The following day, two rather unsavoury gentlemen arrived at John Brown’s home. They were immediately invited in and Brown’s office door swiftly closed behind them. When Brown opened the door half an hour later, he bid them a good day with the words, ‘Find him, Johnston, and teach them all a lesson with the way in which you publicly deal with him.’
During a picket several days later that John attended, Detective Johnston and the local sergeant of police were standing on the opposite side of the road when Johnston noticed that John was amongst those miners picketing.
‘That’s him,’ Johnston said to the police sergeant. ‘The big guy holding the sign that reads, “Power to the working class”.’
‘How do you know it was that man who fired the shot at John Brown?’ The sergeant said.
‘I have an informant on the inside of the Communist Party,’ Johnston replied.
Johnston and several others, all dressed in plain clothes, then rushed across the road and dragged John aside while the police closed ranks around the other picketers to stop them from interfering. John was then subjected to a horrific beating and left for dead. He was later bundled into one of the picketer’s cars and taken to hospital with, among other things, head injuries, two broken forearms which he suffered when trying to fend off the initial onslaught of batons, a broken leg, and several broken ribs.
Jimmy Coles was later informed by his closest minder of what had happened to John and why.
‘How is he?’ Jimmy asked as he wondered how the police knew it was John who had taken a potshot at John Brown.
The man shook his head in response to Jimmy’s question.
‘Find out who informed the police,’ he muttered. ‘I’m going to inform John’s parents of what has happened to him.’
A short time later, Jimmy knocked on Jo and Flo’s front door. Jo opened the door and was somewhat surprised to see Jimmy Coles standing back from the door with a rather uncomfortable look on his face.
Jo eyed him for several seconds before saying, ‘Come in, Jimmy.’
Jimmy hesitantly followed Jo in and when invited, sat opposite Jo at the kitchen table. ‘Now, to what do we owe a visit from you, Jimmy?’ Jo said.
‘I’ve come to inform you that John has been beaten up by the police at a picket and has been taken to Cessnock Hospital,’ Jimmy nervously replied.
‘Do you think that what you are doing is going have any effect other than to cause similar outcomes to what has happened to our son?’ Jo quipped while staring menacingly into Jimmy’s eyes.
‘Our fight is with the colliery owners and the government, Jo, not you,’ Jimmy Coles replied.
‘You are breaking the law!’ Jo exclaimed.
‘It is an unfair law that was only introduced to stop working men from defending themselves against greed and corruption,’ Jimmy replied.
‘That may be so, but the owners and the government now have the law on their side and there is nothing you can do about it, Jimmy,’ Jo demanded.
‘We will force their hand,’ Jimmy Coles replied.
‘Only a government can change the law. You should put your efforts behind getting the Federal Labour Party elected. Once in government, they will rescind the bloody “Unlawful Assembly Act” and get us back to work without anybody else getting hurt,’ Jo retorted.
‘I know Red Ted Theodore very well, and Scullin for that matter; neither one of them can be taken on their word, Jo,’ Jimmy said.
‘We’ll see, but we won’t sink into an unlawful battle that will result in more of our members being injured. But thanks for informing us of John’s whereabouts. We’ll get into the car and go in to see him right away,’ Jo said.
Jimmy stood and started to walk away, but then turned back to face Jo, and said, ‘The bastards who kicked John senseless were not company men. They were coppers in civvies carrying heavy batons and armed with handguns. After they had finished with John, uniformed coppers tried to arrest him but he was unconscious, so they let several of his comrades rush him up to the hospital. This is going to get very nasty before it gets better, Jo.’
‘Only if your bunch doesn’t back off, Jimmy,’ Jo retorted.
The two men then walked to the front door without another word and, as Jo opened the door for Jimmy to exit, Jimmy said to Jo, ‘We’ll see who is right, Jo. Give John my best.’
‘Can’t you do that yourself?’ Jo sarcastically replied.
‘The police are hanging around the hospital hoping for me to turn up. They would throw me in the clink claiming that I must have encouraged an attempt on John Brown’s life the other day,’ Jimmy said. ‘Or that I organised the picket where John was beaten if I turn up at the hospital.’
‘What attempt on John Brown’s life?’ Jo enquired remembering his conversation with John on his front verandah recently.
‘There was no official report but the rumour is that someone tried to shoot him recently at his horse stud farm near Singleton,’ Jimmy replied.
‘Did it actually happen or was it, as you say, just a rumour?’ Jo hesitantly asked.
‘Probably just a rumour,’ Jimmy replied. ‘The police will come at anything to make themselves look to be in the right with what they are doing to people like John.’
‘Yes. Well, isn’t that all the more reason to just let the Central Council and the Labour Party handle things, and not do anything to incite the owners and government?’ Jo said.
Jimmy just raised his eyebrows in response before turning and walking off back to his car and driving away.
‘What has happened to John?’ Flo said as Jo re-entered the kitchen. ‘I didn’t come in and disturb you and Jimmy Coles, but I did hear our John mentioned and that he has been injured or something?’
‘He was hit with a baton by the police while attending a picket and has been taken to Cessnock Hospital. Jimmy was a little short on detail as he wasn’t there. In any case, let’s go up to the hospital and see for ourselves,’ Jo replied.
Jo then quickly drove Flo and young Billy into the Cessnock Hospital, where they were confronted with a terribly alarming sight. Jimmy didn’t make John’s injuries sound too serious but he was very seriously injured. Both arms and his right leg had been set in plaster. His leg was raised by a pulley utilising lead weights to hold it up and still. He had been so badly beaten about the head with batons, that his eyes were just narrow slits causing his very swollen face to resemble a bullfrog with massive blotches of dark blue bruising.
Flo wheeled around in shock and tears quickly ran down her cheeks. Billy wrapped his arms around her and he too fought tears at the dreadful sight of his big brother. Jo could see that John was not conscious. How could he be, he thought, with such horrific head injuries? ‘Has he regained consciousness since he was admitted?’ he demanded of the nurse attending a patient in the bed next to John’s.
Jo’s obvious anger pierced the nurse like a spear and without answering him, she looked towards the nurses’ station at the end of the ward. There, a man dressed in a suit stood talking to the ward sister. He caught the nurse’s concerned look and immediately suggested that the sister go to her aid.
Jo noticed the interaction between the man and the ward sister. So, not wanting to wait for her, he quickly walked towards the man bypassing the sister and ignoring her words of concern as they passed.
‘Who are you and what is your role here?’ Jo demanded of the man.
‘We are concerned about your son, Mr Spencer. We’re hoping to interview him as soon as he regains consciousness to ascertain who was responsible for his injuries,’ the man replied.
‘You haven’t answered my question. Who are you?’ Jo demanded.
‘I’m a friend of your son’s,’ the man replied with a hint of a smirk on his face.
‘You’re a member of the Communist Party?’ Jo demanded.
‘No, to my knowledge, it was members of the Communist Party or those acting on behalf of the Miner’s Federation Central Council who were responsible for the beating your son has endured,’ the man replied.
‘So, who are you?’ Jo again demanded.
‘My name is Johnston. I’m a detective and a member of the Special Investigations Unit attached to the Newcastle Police Department,’ the man arrogantly replied.
‘I was told it was police in plain clothes who did this to my John. Were you one of them?’ Jo muttered.
‘That sort of talk could get you into a lot of trouble, Mr Spencer. So, I suggest that you go back to your son’s bedside and hope that he recovers quickly so that he can name those who attacked him,’ Johnston sneered.
Jo looked the man squarely in the eyes and was met with a cold hard glare, the likes of which he had never before encountered. He quickly looked down and turned to return to John’s bedside.
‘Who is that man?’ Flo demanded as Jo joined her.
‘A policeman from Newcastle,’ Jo muttered.
‘Why isn’t he dressed like a policeman?’ Flo asked.
‘He’s a detective,’ Jo mumbled.
‘Why is he here?’ Flo continued.
‘He is hoping John wakes up and can name the people who beat him up,’ Jo muttered.
‘I don’t believe him, he looks evil to me,’ Flo continued.
Jo didn’t comment on Flo’s observation of the detective, but instead, changed the subject. ‘This is going to be a long wait for John to recover.’
Then, the nursing sister approached. ‘We understand your concern, Mr and Mrs Spencer. But visiting hour is over and we really have to ask you to leave.’
‘We only arrived fifteen minutes ago,’ Flo retorted.
‘You arrived late. Hospital rules apply to everybody, you understand. So, I must ask you to leave. Visiting tonight is between seven and eight o’clock,’ the nursing sister responded.
‘But…’ Flo began but Jo interjected.
‘John doesn’t realise that we are here, Flo. Let’s go and come back tonight.’
As they passed by Detective Johnston, Jo noticed that he was writing in a little black book. Johnston momentarily looked up with a sinful glare. Jo quickly lowered his head and took Flo’s arm to hurry her along.
Johnston had written a physical description of Jo and beside it, he placed the comment: Possible troublemaker looking for revenge for his son; shut him down before he becomes a problem.
‘What’s the rush?’ Flo muttered.
‘That snake is up to something, Flo,’ Jo replied.
‘Who are you talking about, Jo?’ Flo asked.
‘The detective,’ Jo whispered as he pulled Flo’s arm to hurry her along.
The following days were touch and go for John as he slipped in and out of consciousness. His short-term memory was sketchy at best, leaving him unable to remember the vicious attack that left him in such a life-changing state. Finally, after many days, the doctor attending John told his family that he would be left with a permanent limp and a brain injury that could affect his future ability to work and function normally in society.
On the drive in to pick John up from the hospital to take him home, Flo, with tears in her eyes, said to Jo, ‘How are we going to cope? It will be like having a big child to look after. He has to learn how to do things all over again.’
‘It won’t be that bad, Flo. He can feed himself and go to the toilet with a little help. He’s still a bit shaky because he’s been confined to a bed for most of the time he’s spent in the hospital. You’ll see. He’s a strong man and he’ll improve quickly once he’s back in familiar surroundings and can have the plaster removed from his leg,’ Jo encouraged with the touch of his hand on hers.
‘But he won’t be able to go back down the mine and he probably won’t get married and have a family. I’m really worried about how we will cope, Jo,’ Flo sobbed.
‘Let’s not be hasty, Flo. The doctor doesn’t know what he will or won’t regain. So, we should just help him as much as we can by encouraging him to do things for himself. It’ll be alright. We are lucky that we still have him,’ Jo muttered.
‘Are we, Jo? Or are we only destined for more hardship?’ Flo said as she continued to sob.
After seeing the Spencers drive away from the hospital, Detective Johnston approached the doctor who had attended John, asking, ‘Does John Spencer remember who did that to him, Doctor?’
The doctor replied, ‘He can’t, and probably will never remember anything about that day, Mr Johnston.’
Chapter 7
Life and Death
The day after John’s return home from hospital, Henry came urgently knocking on their back door. It had just gone seven o’clock and Flo was stacking the dinner dishes on the bench beside the kitchen sink ready to be washed. ‘Wynnie is having pains,’ he frantically announced.
‘I’ll get the midwife, you get back around with Wynnie. She will be scared on her own,’ Flo told Henry as she dropped the dish she held in her hand into the sink that, thankfully, was full of water.
‘Okay. But hurry,’ Henry mumbled as he scurried back out through the back door and raced off back home.
Bursting in through his back door and hurrying through the kitchen towards the bedroom, Henry could hear the frantic cries from Wynnie as she scanned the door hoping it was the midwife and Flo who were coming to her aid.
‘They’re on their way, Wyn,’ he said while trying to catch his breath.
‘Oh God!’ she screamed.
Ten long minutes later, Flo and the old midwife, who lived just two doors up from Flo, arrived and calmly took control; thereby rescuing Henry who quickly excused himself and rushed out onto the front porch to wait.
Watching with forced interest the lights from the odd vehicle that passed in the dark, Henry was soon thankful when approached by Jo who had brought with him two cigars, a bottle of cheap whisky, and two glasses.
Jo sat opposite Henry and placed the glasses on the small wicker table between them. ‘This could be a long wait,’ Jo said as he almost filled the two glasses with the harsh liquor. He then lifted both glasses from the table and passed one to Henry while raising his slightly in the air. ‘Here’s to you and your family,’ he said before skolling the full contents of his glass. To this, Henry quickly followed suit, his face wincing as the spirit burnt.
‘Thanks, Jo, this is bloody nerve-wracking,’ Henry said as he noticeably trembled with excitement, fear, or both.
‘It never gets any better, Henry,’ Jo said while trying hard to contain himself from laughing at Henry’s reaction. This he only managed to do as he quickly recalled his similar reaction when Flo went into labour with John. Oh, John, what have they done to you, he then thought turning his cloaked smile to a momentary look of despair.
