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Scots Heritage Australia |
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Scots Heritage Australia |
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The Man from Snowy River ~ Banjo Paterson The Man from Snowy River is big business these days. Numbers of towns now feature "The Man" as part of their tourist drawcard. Almost from the time Banjo Paterson wrote the poem there have been claimants to the title. By the time the politicians were touring New South Wales looking for the site for a capital for Australia they found at least one Man from Snowy River in every site they visited, so it's said. There have been many claims documented over the years, but until recently little serious mention of the man most likely to have been the model for Paterson's character. Charlie McKeahnie was one of the Monaro's best known horsemen when he was alive. Unfortunately he died young and quickly slipped from public memory. Until recently the only link between Charlie and Paterson's character was the local Monaro folklore that Paterson had told a person at the Bredbo Hotel (where Charlie died in 1895) that the Man had been based on Charlie. Now there is new evidence, discovered by Neville Locker, of Locker's Happy Valley, who has had a lifetime interest in the Man from Snowy River. When this new evidence is viewed in the context of a reappraisal of the facts, it is clear that Charlie McKeahnie was the most likely model for Paterson's character. Charlie was also the subject of a poem by one of Paterson's contemporaries, Barcroft Boake, who wrote one of his poems to tell the story of Charlie's famous chase after a brumby stallion. Neville's evidence suggests this ride was known to Paterson. Both The Man From Snowy River (Banjo Paterson) and On The Range (Barcroft Boake) celebrate the bold ride of a young horseman from the Snowy River district - in Banjo Paterson's words, "a stripling on a small and weedy beast." One young horseman fits this description - Charlie McKeahnie, from the Adaminaby district. The Facts 1. When Paterson wrote The Man from Snowy River, the Eucumbene River was known as the Snowy River. The upper Eucumbene and the adjacent upper Murrumbidgee were Charlie McKeahnie's country. Charlie was a "Man from the Snowy River." 2. The ride Charlie McKeahnie became famous for most likely took place between 1886 and 1888. We know this as On the Range was based on an event Boake either heard about or witnessed when he was living in the Adaminaby district. The descriptions in his poem are true to the local geography. Boake left the district in 1888 and never returned. From 1886 to 1888 Charlie was 17 to 19 years old, so he was a "stripling" at the time of his ride. 3. Before 1889, when his father died, Paterson used to spend part of his holidays on his father's property at Ilalong and it is known he went riding in the upper Murrumbidgee area. He may not have met Charlie personally, but he would have known the Snowy River country (ie the mountainous upper Eucumbene and upper Murrumbidgee area) near where Charlie lived. He would have heard the local stories and understood the horse riding skills needed in this rugged country. 4. In 1886 Paterson was told by the Editor of the Bulletin to write about the bush, so he would have been on the look out for stories like Charlie's ride. 5. Before 1890, when The Man From Snowy River was published, and for a number of years afterwards, Paterson's identity was not known to the public, as he published under the pen name of Banjo. He only became publicly known and famous after the publication of his book of collected poems in 1895. The subject matter of his poems up until 1890 would have relied on his own experiences, and what he overheard casually. 6. Up until 1890, as far as can be ascertained, Paterson never travelled further south than the upper Murrumbidgee area. It is likely that the source of his inspiration came from the areas he knew best. In fact he said that he only wrote about things he knew. 7. Paterson has said that he located the chase in his famous poem on his father's property at Ilalong, in the Yass district. However it is likely he had a person in mind (that he knew) who was "The Man." New Evidence A letter has recently come to light, written by Lem McKeahnie in 1960, that explains how Paterson learnt of Charlie McKeahnie's ride. It describes how, in the presence of Mrs Jim Hassall, Paterson was told about Charlie's ride and that he then wrote the story (of the ride). Unfortunately neither of the ladies in question is still alive to verify the fact, but there is no reason to doubt Lem McKeahnie's word. It is likely her reference to writing "the story" means making a note of it rather than writing the poem. The meeting may well have taken place in Sydney. Neville (who can be contacted on neville@lockershappyvalley.com) has put his evidence on display at Lockers Happy Valley. Why Charlie and not Others No other claimant fits the description of "The Man" in Paterson's poem as well as Charlie McKeahnie. Others were either older or bigger men, were known braggarts, or their claims rest on stories supposedly told to Paterson when he visited their district after 1890. It is most likely that Charlie McKeahnie truly was the original of The Man From Snowy River. Hugh Capel, May 2004, hughcapel@boake.net http://www.historypages.net/Hsnowyman.html
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The Man from Snowy River ~ Banjo Paterson There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around That the colt from old Regret had got away, And had joined the wild bush horses - he was worth a thousand pound, So all the cracks had gathered to the fray. All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far Had mustered at the homestead overnight, For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are, And the stockhorse snuffs the battle with delight. There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup, The old man with his hair as white as snow; But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up - He would go wherever horse and man could go. And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand, No better horseman ever held the reins; For never horse could throw him while the saddle girths would stand, He learnt to ride while droving on the plains. And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast, He was something like a racehorse undersized, With a touch of Timor pony - three parts thoroughbred at least - And such as are by mountain horsemen prized. He was hard and tough and wiry - just the sort that won't say die - There was courage in his quick impatient tread; And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye, And the proud and lofty carriage of his head. But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay, And the old man said, "That horse will never do For a long and tiring gallop - lad, you'd better stop away, Those hills are far too rough for such as you." So he waited sad and wistful - only Clancy stood his friend - "I think we ought to let him come," he said; "I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the end, For both his horse and he are mountain bred. "He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko's side, Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough, Where a horse's hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride, The man that holds his own is good enough. And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home, Where the river runs those giant hills between; I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam, But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen." So he went - they found the horses by the big mimosa clump - They raced away towards the mountain's brow, And the old man gave his orders, "Boys, go at them from the jump, No use to try for fancy riding now. And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right. Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills, For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight, If once they gain the shelter of those hills." So Clancy rode to wheel them - he was racing on the wing Where the best and boldest riders take their place, And he raced his stockhorse past them, and he made the ranges ring With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face. Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash, But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view, And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash, And off into the mountain scrub they flew. Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black Resounded to the thunder of their tread, And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead. And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their way, Where mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide; And the old man muttered fiercely, "We may bid the mob good day, No man can hold them down the other side." When they reached the mountain's summit, even Clancy took a pull, It well might make the boldest hold their breath, The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full Of wombat holes, and any slip was death. But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head, And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer, And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed, While the others stood and watched in very fear. He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet, He cleared the fallen timber in his stride, And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat - It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride. Through the stringybarks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground, Down the hillside at a racing pace he went; And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound, At the bottom of that terrible descent. He was right among the horses as they climbed the further hill, And the watchers on the mountain standing mute, Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely, he was right among them still, As he raced across the clearing in pursuit. Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet, With the man from Snowy River at their heels. And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam. He followed like a bloodhound on their track, Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home, And alone and unassisted brought them back. But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot, He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur; But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot, For never yet was mountain horse a cur. And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise Their torn and rugged battlements on high, Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze At midnight in the cold and frosty sky, And where around The Overflow the reed beds sweep and sway To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide, The man from Snowy River is a household word today, And the stockmen tell the story of his ride. First published in The Bulletin, 26 April 1890.
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