The Members of the Sons of Australia Benefit Society 1837 – 1897
Complete membership lists exist for only two out of the sixty years this weird little Western Australian institution existed, and they only record the members on the books for that particular year. Twenty-six names are listed on the inaugural member list sent to the government in 1837, and eighty-four different names are recorded on the return sent to the Western Australian government in August 1895 listing those entitled to a share of assets of their society at it’s impending dissolution.
That’s 110 authenticated names. There are 171 names on the list below. The difference has been made up by mentions in the local newspapers for those who joined, resigned, or died, between the two years mentioned above. These additions also includes some names who have confirmed associations with the society, who could (in theory) be members, but probably never were. These include members of the Stone family and some of the caters for the anniversary dinners over the years.
I’m sure there are between 40-100 actual paid up members that are still missing from the historical record. If you know your ancestor was a member of the Sons of Australia Benefit Society please let me know so I can add them to the list.
P.S. This list is now a downloadable spreadsheet for ease of perusal.
Television and photo-plays have theme tunes. Nation-states have theme tunes which they call National Anthems. For most of Australia’s past two centuries, the national theme tune has been “God Save the [Queen/King]” (which does say quite a lot about the mentality of those who made that choice). Outside show-business identities and fictional characters, real people tend not have their own personal theme tune which plays whenever they make an entrance in to a room. (The President of the United States’s personal theme music pretty much confirms my previous observation.)
Thus, it is pretty damn special that I can now confirm that James Dyson (1810-1888) convict, entrepreneur, ratbag and most glorious ancestor of them all, also had his very own theme tune that the band struck up when he rose to his feet.
A theme tune isn’t like a personal favourite song,— the recipient doesn’t have to like it— whether Old Man Dyson appreciated his choice we can never know, but if he did understand the full significance of what was assigned to him, I would like to think he would have smiled, if only ironically. Then, as now, and probably throughout all of musical history, the smash-hits and ear-worms of contemporary musical culture were adopted and championed by those who assigned a meaning and significance to the music exactly opposite to that intended by the musician creator.
So it was or could have been for Dyson’s very own theme tune “A Grand Old English Gentleman,” delivered by the ensemble of the “Free” Templar Band on the occasion of the thirty-ninth anniversary dinner of the foundation of the “Sons of Australia Benefit Society”.
Mr. M. STOKES proposed the next toast, that of the Treasurer of the Society, Mr. Jas. Dyson, speaking in eulogistic terms of that officer’s services. The toast was enthusiastically received, the Band playing “The Fine Old English Gentleman.”
Mr. DYSON, in responding, thanked the meeting for the hearty manner in which they had disposed of the toast of his health.
I would guess that is was only the melody of the chorus line “Like a fine old English gentleman, All of the olden time.” that was played by the band, that would have been enough to get the idea across. As with any assembly of nineteenth-century men in self-congratulatory mode, it is impossible to tell whether they were mocking or deadly serious in their appreciation of what was, by 1877, already a hoary old chestnut, although, in its original form, it had only been composed back in 1835;
I’ll sing you an old ballad That was made by an old pate, Of a poor old English Gentleman Who had an old estate, He kept a brave old mansion At a bountiful old rate With a good old porter to relieve The old poor at his gate Like a fine old English gentleman, All of the olden time.
In 1835, James Dyson had been a year in Van Diemen’s Land, and a convict for twice that time. It may have been a longer time before that when he had last known the protection of a family home in the old country of Lancashire. The family James Dyson left behind certainly had no “brave old mansion“, and it was not until 1861 when his older brother Andrew became master of the decrepit manor house, Birchen Bower, complete with ghost story, legend of buried gold, and Chartists drilling in the neighbouring fields, that the Lancashire Dysons had substantial property. James Dyson had been a land owner at least since 1848 when he bought a lot on the corner of Murray and King Street in the city Perth. He also owned a swamp. If Dyson though about this at all at that time, he had a reason to smile.
A song has to get really popular first before it can be successfully parodied, so “A Fine Old English Gentleman” had been parodied many times indeed— even by 1877. The most famous example was penned as early as 1841 by no less than the most famous English author of the nineteenth century, Charles Dickens. The melody, on the other hand, was nicked about a decade later by Sir Arthur Sullivan, the respectable half of the Gilbert and Sullivan musical team, and used in their production of the “Mikado” (1885) in the opening of the number “Behold the Lord High Executioner”—
Understanding where this motif comes from adds another layer to the comedy and demonstrates that W. S. Gilbert was not the only subversive one of the pair.
Then there were the straight re-writes of the lyrics to the same tune, Here is one from a Queensland newspaper of 1899, by an anonymous someone with no sense of humour whatsoever:
[…] Now surely this is better far Than all the new parade Of theatres and fancy balls, ‘At home’ and masquerade : And much more economical, For all his bills were paid. Then leave your new vagaries quite, And take up the old trade Of a fine old English gentleman All of the olden time.
The piss was asking to be taken, and us Australians did it as early as 1860 in a version entitled “The Fine Old Border Squatter“.
But here is the final twist, the song lives on today, stripped of it original lyrics, and according to the performers of this latest 20th century iteration:—
The original, a bourgeois pop song of the eighteenth century, gives a sycophantic picture of a rich old port-wine and roast-beef character, lolling on his estate and being kind to the poor at Christmas time. The present version gives the old song the ‘alienation’ treatment, by substituting a lower class hero, firmly non-conforming in habits. The Tinkers say: it was taught to us by John Howarth’s stepfather when we were barely of drinking age, and we’ve since heard it in many a pub: in fact, it’s quite a favourite taproom song in Oldham.
Sometimes its just a name that piques your interest. Sometimes names are all you have. The Sons of Australia Benefit Society was formed in January 1837 and it’s final meeting was held in August 1897. For sixty years it seemed to be an ever-present feature in the social fabric of Perth, Western Australia— and then it was gone.
Swan River Guardian (WA : 1836 – 1838) Thursday 16 November 1837 p250The Perth Gazette and Western Australian Journal (WA : 1833 – 1847) Saturday 20 January 1838 p10
Most of what there is to know about the society comes from the contemporary press. There was no mention of it in the Perth Gazette and Western Australian Journal, supposed paper of record in the colony, until it’s first anniversary (and then it was a snide one). This was certainly due to the rivalry between that rag and the editor of the Swan River Guardian, William Nairne Clark. It had not always been that way— back in 1833 the Perth Gazette and Western Australian Journal had written in similarly approving terms of a benefit society newly established, named the Western Australian Union Society, but that same issue, it reported that W. N. Clark had resigned as secretary of the same. It does not seemed to have long survived his departure.
Nairne Clark should not be confused with Mr William Nairn, one of the society’s first trustees, nor should Mr William Nairn, blacksmith by trade, be confused with Major William Nairn, a prominent soldier/land owner in the colony’s earlier days. Mr Nairn’s son James was also a foundation member and both were members of the society’s cricket team that defeated an XI comprising the Gentlemen of Perth in a memorable match on 18 June 1850, despite the weather and the poor condition of the cricket ground. The umpire on that occasion was Alfred Hawes Stone. If Stone himself had been on a team it would have been with the Gentlemen, I suspect. He was a solicitor and Registrar of the Supreme Court. His younger brother, George Frederick Stone, if he had been playing, would probably have been on the Sons of Australia team, as in addition to being an up-and-coming lawyer and former Registrar of Births, Marriages and Deaths, he was also active behind the scenes in the formation of the society back in 1837.
It might be asked why did he interest himself in a similar manner. The answer was very simple, He felt it to be his duty. When only a child he was witness to an accident which befell a poor, honest, hard-working man, who, falling from a three-storey ladder, broke his leg. This man was helping to build the house in which he (the chairman) was destined for many years to live, and the poor fellow had in his rough but pleasant way always displayed a liking for him as a child. When the poor man was taken to the Dispensary close by I went also, and being anxious to know what the poor man would do for a living while he was unable to work, I inquired from one and the other till I found that he belonged to a Club, the members of which all put by something per week into a bag, while they were in work, for the benefit of themselves bye and bye, when they should be sick or out of work. I was so struck with this, and so relieved at the thought that my honest hard-working friend would not want while he was laid up, that as soon as I was old enough, I became an honorary member of the same society, and to this hour I believe my name still remains upon the books of the Society. (Loud cheers). From that time I have been always interested in the prosperity of similar institutions. I was at the formation of the society called “the Sons of Australia,” which in its infancy was thought to be a political society, and was regarded with an evil eye, but time has shown the vast amount of good that has been done by it, and it is now the wealthiest society in the colony. Like all other kindred endeavours for the public good, it had met with many discouragements, but he had done what little he could in conjunction with one or two others, and it was now a most flourishing society.
Stone alluded to distrust from the authorities in the earliest days and I would like to find more examples of this concern. The society was formed in the last miserable years of Governor Sir James Stirling’s administration. Although his noisiest critic (said W. Nairne Clarke, and the Swan River Guardian) were pretty well suppressed by 1838, it is extremely notable that the colonial chaplain, J. B. Wittenoom, was an early and public supporter of the new organisation. I think I have mentioned before that on the surface, Wittenoom should represent everything I detest about the early establishment in Western Australia. He was the only representative of the officially sanctioned state religion of England in Western Australia in the early colonial years, yet he seemed to spend as much, or more, time as a magistrate and school teacher, and yet more energy on social activities or looking after his family’s interests. When pressed, he had a petty streak that manifested itself when challenged by Wesleyan Methodists and the Evangelical factions in the Colony of his own Church of England— That said, his challengers were pretty damn insufferable themselves. Wittenoom had no reason to like W Nairne Clark or his paper, but neither did he have any reason to love the cronies around Stirling’s administration, who barely concealed their contempt for him even as they appreciated his geniality. In short, Wittenoom was no man of the people, but within his limitations he tried to do what was best for those within his remit, and for a supposed religious leader was refreshingly free of religious fervour.
It’s hard to find anyone find anyone with a bad word to say about G. F. Stone, chairman of the Sons of Australia in its first year — even Nairne Clarke is mild in his criticism, and by rights, being both in the legal profession and a government appointee to boot, he should have been a prime target for an all-out assault (Not being virulently attacked in the Swan River Guardian is about the highest praise you can get). But G. F. Stone was part of the ruling class and the whole purpose of Sons of Australia was self-help for the artisan class. Stone himself, modestly concedes he was only one of the founders. The others were probably:—
Charles Foulkes, a painter and glazier; William Nairn, a blacksmith; John Robert Thomson/Thompson/Tomson (no relation), a carpenter and joiner, William Rogers the Elder, a storekeeper. These four, along side Stone, were the first recorded managers of business for the Sons of Australia.
Charles Foulkes came to Western Australia in February 1830 on the Protector, a widower with an eight-year-old daughter. In 1837 he was forty-one and in addition to being the inaugural secretary of the Sons of Australia, was also secretary of a mysterious organisation called LODGE 1: The Philanthropic Society of 40 Friends. Now, its possible that this is what the Sons of Australia Benefit Society was called in it’s first year. There is no mention of it in the papers before or after 1837. A LODGE 2 spin-off was attempted in Fremantle the same year but vanished without trace.
Now confirmed: Lodge 1 & The Sons of Australia are one and the same.
The fourth anniversary meeting of the “Sons of Australia Benefit Society” took place on Tuesday, 19th instant, and we were well pleased to observe the unanimity and good feeling manifested on the occasion. The members, to the number of about forty, moved in procession to the Church, accompanied by the Rev. the Colonial Chaplain, who delivered an eloquent and appropriate lecture, illustrative of the benefits and objects of the Society. The reverend gentleman impressed upon his hearers the necessity for good conduct, by which alone the very useful objects the members had in view could be carried out, and expressed his approbation of the general state of the Society.
The members returned from Church in the same orderly manner, to dine at the United Service Tavern, where an excellent dinner was provided for them; Mr. Charles Foulkes in the chair. After the cloth was drawn, the usual loyal toasts were given, and the evening was passed in harmony and good fellowship. The Rev. the Colonial Chaplain intimated that his Excellency the Governor had requested him to convey to the members his cordial approval of the objects of the institution, and his satisfaction at the flourishing state in which it then was ; in proof of which a donation from his Excellency was at their service in aid of the funds.
This Society was instituted in the year 1837, at the instance of a large body of the operative class, and is for the relief of members in sickness, old age, and infirmity, and for the providing certain sums for the decent interment of the members. It is the first institution, in this colony, of a kind that has done so much good for the labourer, mechanic, and artisan, in England, and in other old countries, and it seems to us to be especially requisite in this land, where there is, as yet, no public institution for the reception of the aged and infirm. The rules and orders by which the Society is regulated appear to have been very carefully drawn, and entirely free from objection : especially we are glad to observe that all political or religious discussions are expressly forbidden.
That same anniversary meeting, the society unfurled their new banner, under which they would march for many years to come. Like their organisation itself, their emblem was a shameless knock-off from the International Order of Oddfellows: A hand touching a heart. By 1841, the Sons of Australia were thoroughly respectable. Stirling’s successor as Governor, John Hutt was himself the society’s patron, and later that same year, future treasurer and chairman James Dyson would arrive in the Colony (but no record survives of when he actually joined).
But for Foulkes, he would not have the chance to benefit from what he had started; he resigned his offices in 1844 and the next year followed his grown daughter to the new colony of South Australia where she married. It was not a successful move for her father:
[…] The thing which it is chiefly important that our readers should know, is, the statement which Mr. Steel (who has returned to this colony in the Paul Jones) makes relative to the prospects of employment in Adelaide, and the condition of those persons who, deluded by specious representations, and their own restless spirits, have lately gone to South Australia. Mr. Steel says that hundreds of persons are walking about Adelaide unemployed; that Mr. Foulkes (whom all our readers well remember) has not had a day’s work since his arrival in Adelaide; and that there is scarcely one of those who left this place for Adelaide who would not gladly return, if it were in their power.[…]
Worse, a copy of the Inquirer made its way back to South Australia…
It is quite evident that Mr Steel was not suited for this colony. The statement of hundreds of people being idle in Adelaide is grossly false. Instead of such men as Mr Steel, we want some good laborers[sic]. For example, if all the bullocks, drays, and draymen, were transported from Swan River, we could guarantee them employment.
Steel had been verbaled and as he had planned to return to South Australia with his family, he was furious. But Foulkes had been identified by name and he was stuck there as a walking example of a b—y insular West Australian. By 1852 he was declared insolvent. At some point between then and his death aged sixty-one, he took the only course of action open to one with no options left—he moved to Victoria.
Age (Melbourne, Vic. : 1854 – 1954), Wednesday 22 July 1857, page 4
It will not be often that one of my research subjects get to speak in their own voice, but Charles Foulkes is one rare example who has become just a little bit more than a name on a page. He seems to have liked a drink occasionally— On one occasion in Ougden’s Tavern during 1835 he was involved in an altercation where he was drunkenly accused of being a convict. Foulkes took great offence (although it was not he who was up on assault charges later on). He must have had some sort of not-entirely-respectable-reputation for when he stood to speak at a temperance meeting held in 1841, the Methodist minister in the chair attempted to suppress him hard.—
Mr. Foulkes rose to make a proposition. The Rev. Mr. Smithies said he should not do so. Mr. Foulkes,—I a British born subject —am I to be put down in this way before I have opened my mouth ? As a minister of the gospel, Mr. Smithies, you are bound to hear me candidly and dispassionately; I have not disgraced myself; I came here with a friendly feeling to the society ; and I have a strong interest in its welfare. I do no advocate it by gab, but in my breast. I feel how its best views can be promoted. Mr. Smithies—I will show you how you are interfering with the progress of the meeting by authority forthwith, (one of the rules of the society was then read which enforced the propriety of conveying instruction on the subject of temperance, and not admitting any disquisition.) The chairman requested Mr. Foulkes to proceed if he had any thing to state in conformity with this regulation. Mr. Foulkes—I have been put out, for every body knows that all men’s ideas ebb and flow. Mr. Smithies is a good sort of man in his way, but he is not in my line of life, or he would not have said I have no right here ; I am perfectly sober, and have not had a glass of spirits in my house for many months. But if I were drunk I should be the proper man to remain here, and to be listened to; it is not the sober you seek to reclaim but it is the drunkard, and the more drunkards you could assemble the better. I don’t come here with any cut and dried bits of speeches; I tell you my mind and you don’t seem to like it—now to disappoint you, as you at first put me out, I’ll not make a speech at all. (Laughter.) Mr. Smithies—sit down, or I will say something will make you look queer. Mr. Foulkes—I say, say it! you come it very queer!
It seems like there was nothing the average man in Australia during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries enjoyed more than belonging to a secret society. Of course it’s no fun at all if no-one can know that you belong to an exclusive brotherhood*, so you have to make sure that everyone has got the memo by flaunting your membership of that organisation (you are not able to discuss publicly) in the most ostentatious manner you can manage. Street parades in uniform were best; inviting the press along to your celebratory dinners and having the whole thing published in meticulous detail the next day was even better. Of course the display of esoteric symbols and talismans on every conceivable public surface where ever you could manage it was obligatory, you just could never explain what they meant… because that was a secret.
The Mechanic’s Institute (left) next to Perth’s first Masonic Hall (centre) in about 1868. The Town Hall (right) is being erected in the background.
The Freemasons are probably the most famous of this ilk, and were the most prestigious and exclusive club, as you needed to invited to join by your similarly elite peers. It was not for the everyday hoi-poli. Your Governor of the Colony (so long as he wasn’t a Catholic), Bishop, Judge or Top Civil Servant were all likely to be masons. For a secret society, they loved owning prominent buildings in the very heart of town, dressing up for the funerals of their brethren, and denying that being a mason had any influence on their day jobs.
But if you were not an elite, there were still mysterious and baroque organisations you could become a member of (if organised religion was too inclusive for your tastes). If you wanted to piss off the Catholics you could join the Loyal Order of Orangemen. If you hated people who drank alcohol, you could join the Good Templars, or the Rechabites (among others). Many publicans in the early days of Perth were foundation members of temperance societies.
Good Templars being inconspicuous in Newcastle (Toodyay) circa 1875 [SLWA]
*The Good Templars were somewhat unique in that they allowed women into their ranks. This was an excellent strategy as it allowed their members to bask in the warm glow of the strong disapproval of other such institutions as the Catholic Church.
The original Weld Club house on St George’s terrace.
Strictly boys only was the Weld club (for those who found the Freemasons too egalitarian). But if you were not a member of the ruling elite—only a humble mechanic or even a middling shop-keeper, then there were the friendly societies just for you.
In the days before social security for a average worker, sickness meant ruin, and death meant poverty (or worse) for any dependent unlucky enough to survive you. Charity from the parish was even less of an option than back in Britain, as there pretty much was not a parish. The Colonial Government did establish the workhouse system here; to be destitute was practically a criminal offence. Friendly societies were first and foremost an early system of life or health insurance for their low-income members. The benefits received could and did vary widely. For a few pence a week, contributors or their families might receive paid medical attention, income protection when unable to work, funerals paid for, or even a pension for the widow.
Back in England, originating from Lancashire, the best known and globally dispersed organisation of this type was the Manchester Unity Order of Oddfellows. This evolution from an even older organisation sprung up in James Dyson’s home town the very year of his birth (1810). The MUOOF or IOOF(as it was often abbreviated) combined the practical matter of regularly collecting the subs from its members with the very social activity of weekly or monthly meetings in the local public-house. Once the legal technicalities were overcome (establishing that this was not a seditious gathering plotting the overthrow of his Majesty’s Government), lodges would spread across the Anglophone world. Eventually it would reach Western Australia:—
The opening ceremony in connection with the new Oddfellows’ Hall, Hutt-street, took place last evening. A full description of the hall, the foundation stone of which was laid on the 24th of July, 1895, has already appeared in our columns, and it is only necessary to say that the building is a very commodious one of two stories, admirably suited for the purposes for which it has been erected. If any defect might be mentioned, it is the fact that the dividing floor between the upper and lower halls is hardly sufficiently packed to deaden the sound, which penetrates from one hall to another, so that the two cannot be used at the one time with any comfort by those who have engaged them.
The ceremony consisted of a torchlight procession, which left the Town Hall for the Oddfellows’ Hall, headed by the City Brass Band, in which about 200 members of the lodges marched in their regalia. Bro. F. Bowra, P.G.M., acted as Marshal, and amongst the heralds were Bro. W. Lawrence (bearing a measure of corn), Bro. Arnold (Bearing a vase of flowers), and Bro. G. Wallace (bearing a goblet of water).
The Oddfellows had been a presence in Western Australia for many years, but predating their formal establishment in 1870 by over thirty years, all the way back to the time of Governor Hutt, in fact— a home grown version of a friendly society on the Oddfellow’s model was created for the Colony. On the first anniversary of its birth, what would one day become the Western Australian Newspaper editorialised:—
A union society, under the denomination “Sons of Australia” — not a very appropriate title, considering the ages of the members,— has been established at Perth, and the anniversary meeting took place at Dobbins Hotel yesterday. The Rev. J. B. Wittenoom, at the solicitation of the members, performed divine Service in the afternoon, and delivered a lecture on the occasion.
If you think this is oddly snarky, you have to bear in mind that a year ago, in another publication was written:
A friendly Society called the “Son[s] of Australia” has been formed since January last. The object of the Society is to provide by contribution for the maintenance or assistance of the Members thereof in sickness, old age and other infirmities. The Rules of the Society have been duly enrolled before W. H. Mackie Esquire, and a Bench of Magistrates pursuant to act of Parliament 59th Geo. III. and are now in the course of being printed at the “Guardian” Office. The Trustees are Messrs W. Nairn, W. Rogers Senr. and J. Tompson, Mr Charles Foulkes Secretary. The objects of this Society are highly laudable, and it is the most useful institution ever formed in the Colony. A considerable sum has been already subscribed towards the formation of a permanent fund, and we earnestly hope the Society will flourish.
And so it all becomes clear. The editors of the two newspapers in town at that time were mortal enemies. For Charles MacFaull, editor of the Gazette, anyone who ran a newspaper who wasn’t him was a mortal enemy. For William Nairne Clarke of the Swan River Guardian it was much simpler: anyone who wasn’t him was a mortal enemy. They were naturally going to oppose anything the other didn’t oppose.
This was only a few years before before James Dyson arrived in the colony of Western Australia, but fast forward to the time of his death fifty-one years later, and it becomes clear that his involvement with the Sons of Australia Benefit Society was one of the defining activities of his life:
The Daily News (Perth, WA : 1882 – 1950) Saturday 23 June 1888 p 3
The Society survived James Dyson’s death, but it would not survive the custodianship of his son, Joseph the Elder. Only a year after the opening of that Oddfellow’s Hall in 1895, the Sons of Australia Benefit Society was finally wound up.
Last night the members of the Sons of Australia Benefit Society assembled at Jacoby’s Bohemian-hall, for the purpose of receiving their first dividend out of the sale of the city property formerly owned by that society, situated at the corner of Barrack and Goderich streets, which was recently purchased by Messrs. W. B. Wood, A. E. Cockram, and J. Carmichael, for £11,000. The scheme of dividing the assets of this old established institution, which was founded in the year 1837 by the late Mr. G. F. Stone, father of his Honor Mr. Justice Stone, whose inaugural efforts were supported by Messrs. Crane and others, is based upon a payment of £150 to the old and £115 to the younger members, who comprise a total of 83, all told. The first dividend amounts to £90 per member, one of whom has been an inmate of the Perth Invalid Depôt for several years past.
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