I am saddened not to have met sacred soul Mary Crawley at the Barringun Hotel in my search for sacred souls and places.
I stopped there for a break, and I am sure she would haven short shift to the blatantly hung-over bloke wearing boxer shorts & a grimy singlet, managing that hotel. He had eventually staggered out scratching his bits to answer the bell on the restaurant bar top.
In response to my asking for an egg and bacon roll, he winced, saying:
'hell no! I've only been here for a day.”
He looked at the clock whinning:
“I have only had an hour’s sleep in that time.”
Before Federation,the borders between states were controlled by customs officers. Places like Barringun, which is located on the New South Wales-Queensland border north of Bourke and south of Cunnamulla, were important stopping points. Bonded warehouses, hotels and shops serviced travellers crossing from one state to the other.
Once Federation occurred and the state borders were removed, the towns started to die.
The town that was once a stopover point for shearers, drovers, mailmen, swaggies, labourers, adventurers and Cobb & Co coaches became a sleepy town as cars roared through.
Mary Crawley who ran the Barringun Hotel, passed away in February. This is her eulogy written by her grandson and shared on Facebook:
“Last night something happened that I’ve always known was coming, but it was always impossible to consider.
Last night our family lost its matriarch and outback Australia lost one of its best.
Mary Crawley’s reign at the Barringun Hotel may have ended but for anyone that met her there, she’ll be etched into their mind forever.
A women of amazing intelligence, quick wit, unconquerable toughness, fierce loyalty and a believer that at all times and no matter the consequences you must always do what is right.
‘What’ll ya have?’ gave no warning to the unsuspecting punter walking into the pub that they were about to be engaged in some of the most intelligent and free flowing conversation they’d likely ever have.
Sharp minded and well informed she was at ease talking to well to do and well educated people from the high end of town, but she always preferred the company of her ‘mates’.
Her mates were a band of rough edged shearers, drovers, truckies or outback workers, sometimes troubled souls, often people who may have made decisions in their lives they probably weren’t proud of, done the wrong thing - people others would call rouges or criminals.
Dare question them to her and you’d be met with a stern
‘you shut up! He’s a mate of mine’
dare question her to them and it would probably be the last thing you ever did.
Some of my most endearing memories growing up were of these same hard men breaking down in tears to her; she might have given them a tune up about something they’d done (‘sorry Mrs Crawley’ was a common phrase), maybe told them she was proud of them; quite often ‘don’t worry, I’ll say a prayer for you tonight’ was enough to do it.
It was like we shared our Grandmother with a bunch of other people that needed one, the perfect example of how absolutely everyone was equal in her eyes.
She might be gone but I know how I’ll always remember her.
Sitting in her armchair on the front verandah, she’s got a view across to the stock slowly stringing, of the Emus and Roos.
In that harsh country that most think is desolate and ugly, where few people can survive, she saw profound beauty and enjoyed amazing contentment
‘if I won a million dollars I wouldn’t move anywhere’
Gidgee the dog is by her side, she’s got the form guide in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, she’s holding court to her family and closest mates, and maybe there’s a caravanner looking for a ‘free shit’ for her to complain about
.
She’s got that cheeky glint in her eye and she’s just passionately told someone to ‘go to buggery’ cause they’re ‘full of bullshit’.
I reckon that’s what heaven would be like for her.
She really was one of a kind, and a lot of people, including
me, are going to do it bloody tough without her.
Farewell Grandmother, send me some winners from up there will ya?’
Mary Crawley ~ The best person I ever met”.
Adam Crawley via One Day Closer to Rain fb page