At almost two centuries old, by Australian standards, Queanbeyan, neighbour to the Australian capital, has more than a little history. Accordingly, it also has more than its share of mysteries and secrets which, surprising to some, are often hidden in plain sight.
Shamrock Lane runs from the busy Monaro Street, at its river end, to the carpark at the rear of another town icon, the Leagues Club (the modern version dates to 1973, the original of 1963 having been burnt to the ground).
Most residents and visitors of the NSW regional city don't realise as they stroll this charmingly restored laneway that they pass by one of the oldest surviving buildings in the region – or at least the modified version of it.
Nor are they aware of some of the more mysterious goings-on associated with it.
The Doncaster Inn appears on one of Queanbeyan's earliest known town plans, that drawn by George Briand in 1862. However, the building itself reaches back to 1843, only five years after Queanbeyan was proclaimed a township.
Most progressively, it was built (of handmade local bricks) on land owned by Queanbeyan's very first businesswoman, Emma Rowley, formerly of Yorkshire. The first sales of property in the town took place as early as 1839 - and Emma purchased four of them. She and husband George ran a store (records can't be found, but it's believed it was next door) while her brothers, John and George Hunt, operated the Inn.
Only the rear of the building today remains, the original having had an additional section fronting Monaro Street though set back from the road itself. A local lass by the name of Emily Hutchison – with descendants in the area still – sketched the Doncaster as it was in 1853. Her work is the oldest known existing drawing of the town.
Over the course of its long life, the Inn - with 17 licencee changes between 1843 and 1894 - has served many a role, including a billiard room, stock and station agency, restaurant and art gallery. For a time it was also a boarding house at one end, while at the other, another of the town's numerous local newspapers, The Queanbeyan Leader, was produced. Editor of this was a chap by the name of Harry Holland who'd leave his hometown and his nation to become Leader of the Labour Party in the New Zealand Parliament.
At one point, the Inn was also recreated as a "lying-in hospital", the first in Queanbeyan for expecting mothers.
Inevitably, there's been a number of tragedies that have occurred within it. One such is said to have been a young barmaid drowned in a water trough at the back of the building, apparently by a spurned suitor. Another that's historically verified, is that it was the place of death for one local doctor, Hilder, his record attesting the cause was "alcoholism".
Might any of this account for some of the very strange tales I've had relayed to me, from people completely without knowledge of the building's history? Many are remarkably similar – from unexplained sounds and the movement of objects, specifically at the rear of the property, to people working there late at night feeling someone else is present – although they're alone - and even, apparitions.
For a long time in the 1980s, it was abandoned, its windows covered with old newspapers to prevent anyone looking in – or perhaps, out.
Two locally well-known, mature women shared with me their experience. On a quiet evening, they'd been walking down the lane, heading off to attend a show at the nearby, much-loved School of Arts Cafe (in the School of Arts building of 1870).
As they did, one of them saw what she was sure was a light coming from inside the old Inn. Aware of its lack of occupancy, both peered in through the few gaps in the yellowing pages of The Queanbeyan Age, thinking someone was in likelihood trespassing. Both stated they were absolutely convinced that they saw a young woman standing there in period dress and holding a candle.
Whether wild imaginings, a trick of the light, or something less explainable, they didn't stay around to investigate further.
In later years, a former business owner told me of the time he was alone installing some glass fronted fridges at the back of the property. He saw the reflection of what he thought was a man in uniform standing behind him. On turning around, there was no one there.
While I can't say I've personally experienced anything untoward in the vicinity, I can attest to some quite extraordinary, let's say “coincidences”, associated with it.
Records reveal that two long-standing families connected with this location were the Fowlies and the Roffes. For a number of years, the Fowlies ran a blacksmith and wheelwright business from the rear section of the original building. Close by, the Roffes operated the Federal Motor Garage.
In the first, sad coincidence - and particularly poignant at this moment in time - each of the families lost a son in WWI – George Fowlie and Ernest Roffe both died in 1917, one month apart, and both were 21 years old.
I came across that information during research for one of my Mysterious Moonlight Tours (currently on COVID hiatus). My impetus had been looking into Queanbeyan's experience in the final year of the war.
I was in the midst of writing that Ernest Roffe had enlisted in 1915, on November 14.
As I typed the last paragraph, it suddenly struck me that the day on which I had found and was preparing it, was, incredibly, also November 14.
So astonished was I, I even took a screenshot of my work as proof.
Perhaps it simply was one of those things we dismiss as coincidence or serendipity, chance or pure luck, however, our resident medium who regularly joins us on Tours, has a rather different view of it. She's of the belief that it's a validation of attempted communication, anniversaries and meaningful dates when “energies” are said to be higher.
Whether that is the case, who am I to say, but I tell you hand-on-heart, it most certainly occurred in precisely the way I've shared.
More importantly, I would like to take the opportunity to remember and acknowledge both George and Ernest, their service and their sacrifice.
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