Hiero
22nd May 2006, 08:05
http://www.abc.net.au/pm/content/2006/s1628014.htm
Edit: I suppose i should post the article.
PM - Monday, 1 May , 2006 18:38:32
Reporter: Stephen Long
MARK COLVIN: After the events of the last few days in Tasmania, Australians need no reminding of the dangers of working under the ground in mines.
But today came a reminder that mining was once more dangerous still: on the surface as well as underground.
Jim Comerford is one of only four living Australians who were there in 1929 when police opened fire on 4,000 miners at the Rothbury Colliery in New South Wales.
Mr Comerford, who's now 92, has written a book about that time.
As a 15-year-old pit boy, he saw friends and colleagues shot and was nearby when the miner Norman Brown was killed.
The battle came during a 15-month lockout, as coal companies tried to cut wages after the Depression.
Jim Comerford gave Stephen Long his eyewitness account of the violence at Rothbury.
JIM COMERFORD: Wally Woods was shot through the throat and paralysed down the right side for 18 months. I could have touched him as he went down.
STEPHEN LONG: What was it like for you as a teenage pit boy witnessing your mate getting shot and being there for those terrible events?
JIM COMERFORD: I was terrified. When we got to the fence a very white-faced young policeman came out and said, kept repeating it, "You can't come in here, boys. You can't come in here, boys. You can't come in here, boys."
And Sheridan (phonetic) said, "Look, we don't any trouble with you people. All we want to do is talk to these scabs."
And with that, the miners went in the worst place we could have got into.
There were three lines of empty coal wagons and the thickest bush you could see on each side. And you couldn't manoeuvre to get out into the open to the compound. All the foot police had to do at the end of the wagons is bash, bash, bash. But despite that, the miners were making progress to get away from that restricted area.
Then the mounted police were brought in and they didn't do any better. And that was when apparently the order was given to the police to begin shooting.
Les Thomas, the bloke I was with, had lied down on the floor of the gully.
You could hear the spang, spang, spang of the bullets hitting that… hitting that tank. And a lot of people were injured, wounded there. And that was the second burst of fighting and gunfire.
Les Thomas, the bloke I was with when we got out of the compound in the first round of shooting, we were running up the slope and he fell down, called out: "I've been hit."
And I said, "Don't be silly."
And he pulled up his trousers and a bullet had grazed across his knee. And there was little swelling in the ground like an ant heap. We crawled towards that and he lay down. The bullets couldn't get to you, but he was vomiting.
I think I was screaming with terror, lying beside him.
A motorcar appeared and turned into the gate. And the cry went up it was Weaver, the Minister for Mines, the most hated man that the miners ever had anything to do with.
The stories about Weaver are that he'd missed out on the First World War and this was his chance to act like a bloody Hollywood field marshal.
And an attack was immediately made on the car. The chauffeur was knocked unconscious. And there was actually hand-to-hand fighting going on and the miners were getting the best of it, driving the police back. And again, somebody issued the order to draw the guns.
But I was running beside Wally Woods and then the bullet, the bullet hit him.
It's the kind of thing you see it and you don't believe you're seeing it.
The choked noises in his throat, his feet drumming the ground, the blood running from his throat. And I saw the bloke that did it. He had leather leggings on, police uniform, and he deliberately aimed the revolver at Wally Woods.
And I couldn't believe I was seeing such a thing happen.
But that was where Norman Brown was killed.
An Australian miner from Richalmain (phonetic), Jock Lindsay (phonetic). Lindsay (phonetic) got to Norman Brown, tried to pick him up and as he did the bullet fell out of Norman Brown's stomach.
But it was an amazing thing.
The Sydney Morning Herald says we fired the first shots and the police retaliated by firing over our heads as a warning.
Isn't it strange? We were firing at them but we didn't hit them. They were firing over our heads but they hit us.
STEPHEN LONG: Now in your 90s, having lived through that, having lived through that huge lockout, the Great Depression, the terrible conditions in the coalfields, how do you feel about the state of industrial relations in Australia today?
JIM COMERFORD: Well, despite the lockout, despite the Depression, I've had a strong affection for Australia, largely because of associating with the people in the mining industry that I've had to associate with.
The Australia I knew is doomed to exist no longer, and I think that the social Australia that we knew is faced with degradation and deterioration.
MARK COLVIN: Jim Comerford, a 92-year-old miner describing events at the Rothbury coal mine in 1929 to Stephen Long.
Edit: I suppose i should post the article.
PM - Monday, 1 May , 2006 18:38:32
Reporter: Stephen Long
MARK COLVIN: After the events of the last few days in Tasmania, Australians need no reminding of the dangers of working under the ground in mines.
But today came a reminder that mining was once more dangerous still: on the surface as well as underground.
Jim Comerford is one of only four living Australians who were there in 1929 when police opened fire on 4,000 miners at the Rothbury Colliery in New South Wales.
Mr Comerford, who's now 92, has written a book about that time.
As a 15-year-old pit boy, he saw friends and colleagues shot and was nearby when the miner Norman Brown was killed.
The battle came during a 15-month lockout, as coal companies tried to cut wages after the Depression.
Jim Comerford gave Stephen Long his eyewitness account of the violence at Rothbury.
JIM COMERFORD: Wally Woods was shot through the throat and paralysed down the right side for 18 months. I could have touched him as he went down.
STEPHEN LONG: What was it like for you as a teenage pit boy witnessing your mate getting shot and being there for those terrible events?
JIM COMERFORD: I was terrified. When we got to the fence a very white-faced young policeman came out and said, kept repeating it, "You can't come in here, boys. You can't come in here, boys. You can't come in here, boys."
And Sheridan (phonetic) said, "Look, we don't any trouble with you people. All we want to do is talk to these scabs."
And with that, the miners went in the worst place we could have got into.
There were three lines of empty coal wagons and the thickest bush you could see on each side. And you couldn't manoeuvre to get out into the open to the compound. All the foot police had to do at the end of the wagons is bash, bash, bash. But despite that, the miners were making progress to get away from that restricted area.
Then the mounted police were brought in and they didn't do any better. And that was when apparently the order was given to the police to begin shooting.
Les Thomas, the bloke I was with, had lied down on the floor of the gully.
You could hear the spang, spang, spang of the bullets hitting that… hitting that tank. And a lot of people were injured, wounded there. And that was the second burst of fighting and gunfire.
Les Thomas, the bloke I was with when we got out of the compound in the first round of shooting, we were running up the slope and he fell down, called out: "I've been hit."
And I said, "Don't be silly."
And he pulled up his trousers and a bullet had grazed across his knee. And there was little swelling in the ground like an ant heap. We crawled towards that and he lay down. The bullets couldn't get to you, but he was vomiting.
I think I was screaming with terror, lying beside him.
A motorcar appeared and turned into the gate. And the cry went up it was Weaver, the Minister for Mines, the most hated man that the miners ever had anything to do with.
The stories about Weaver are that he'd missed out on the First World War and this was his chance to act like a bloody Hollywood field marshal.
And an attack was immediately made on the car. The chauffeur was knocked unconscious. And there was actually hand-to-hand fighting going on and the miners were getting the best of it, driving the police back. And again, somebody issued the order to draw the guns.
But I was running beside Wally Woods and then the bullet, the bullet hit him.
It's the kind of thing you see it and you don't believe you're seeing it.
The choked noises in his throat, his feet drumming the ground, the blood running from his throat. And I saw the bloke that did it. He had leather leggings on, police uniform, and he deliberately aimed the revolver at Wally Woods.
And I couldn't believe I was seeing such a thing happen.
But that was where Norman Brown was killed.
An Australian miner from Richalmain (phonetic), Jock Lindsay (phonetic). Lindsay (phonetic) got to Norman Brown, tried to pick him up and as he did the bullet fell out of Norman Brown's stomach.
But it was an amazing thing.
The Sydney Morning Herald says we fired the first shots and the police retaliated by firing over our heads as a warning.
Isn't it strange? We were firing at them but we didn't hit them. They were firing over our heads but they hit us.
STEPHEN LONG: Now in your 90s, having lived through that, having lived through that huge lockout, the Great Depression, the terrible conditions in the coalfields, how do you feel about the state of industrial relations in Australia today?
JIM COMERFORD: Well, despite the lockout, despite the Depression, I've had a strong affection for Australia, largely because of associating with the people in the mining industry that I've had to associate with.
The Australia I knew is doomed to exist no longer, and I think that the social Australia that we knew is faced with degradation and deterioration.
MARK COLVIN: Jim Comerford, a 92-year-old miner describing events at the Rothbury coal mine in 1929 to Stephen Long.