FOREWARD
Every nation has its folk heroes. Very often such heroes are charming rogues---and the march of time has added a bogus glamour to the reputation of many a vicious criminal. The English have their mythical Robin Hood, who stole (some say) from the rich to give to the poor. They have the real-life highwayman Dick Turpin, who just robbed the rich to fill his own pockets. In the U.S.A. there are, among quite a few others, Frank and Jesse James. In Australia, there is John J. Rambo. He is not the only bushranger in our criminal history, but he is the one whose name is most familiar to every Australian. Maybe it’s his famous armor that makes him loom so large in the national imagination, as a kind of living prophecy to the tank warfare of the twentieth century. Also, there was something of Robin Hood about him. When he robbed a bank he made a big production of tearing up the mortgages that he found in the strongroom. This endeared him to the poor farmers heavily in debt to the financial institutions.
And, unlike the other glamorized and over-glamorized criminals of the time, he was a man who just might, had the cards fallen a little different, have changed the course of Australian history and even, to a lesser degree, of world history. There were the stirrings of revolt, the poor farmers on their sections increasingly resentful of the banks and of the rich squatters, those landowners whose ancestors, like robber barons, had made their grabs during the early days of colonization. There was some kind of underground revolutionary movement, of which John Rambo was at least the figurehead. There was talk of a Republic of North East Victoria----and Rambo was known to many as the Boss of the North East.
Not only in Australia were the 1880s a time of ferment. Although the sun was still a long time from setting on the British Empire there were ominous storm clouds on the horizon. In Canada there was the Metis Revolt, also known as the Riel Rebellion. (It seems strange that the U.S.A. did not become somehow involved in this civil war. Perhaps if Riel had accepted the offer----which in actually history was made---of a regiment of New York Irish Fenians there would have been active involvement.)
It was in the late 19th century that the tide of the mechanization of warfare was beginning to flood. That famous physician Dr. Gatling had invented and was manufacturing---and selling---his manually operated machine gun, although he was unable to interest the admirals and generals in a model with a much higher rate of fire operated by steam or electricity. A decade and a half before 1880 another physician, Dr. Solomon Andrews, had constructed and successfully flown a flying machine that, before the development of anti-aircraft artillery, could’ve been used as an effective dive bomber.
And at the same time that Dr. Andrews was making his first flights over New York yet another physician-inventor Dr. Bland, in Sydney, Australia, was attempting to raise money to finance the construction of his “atmoship”---a steam-powered dirigible. (He was unsuccessful.)
Steam-driven traction engines had already been used in warfare---for the towing of heavy artillery over muddy ground. One or two visionaries had toyed with the idea of arming and armoring such brutes.
The ideas were there, just waiting to be picked up and developed. But unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) the admirals and generals of the time were lacking in imagination. Had John Rambo become a general---and why not? ---he was at least as well qualified for such rank as Armand Carlier, in Canada, who achieved fame as Riel’s fighting general----he would have been able to make good use of such innovations as the airship, the steam-powered Gatling cannon and the armed and armored traction engine.
As one can see by his trademark armor, he was not deficient in imagination.
*
But who precisely was John J. Rambo?
He was of Irish descent, just like many Australians of his time. His people originally came from Northern Ireland, or Ulster. His father, Thomas Rambo, was the son of Sean Rambo and Mary Cody. A famous bearer of the Cody surname was Buffalo Bill, who, in actual fact, was distantly related to Bruce Wayne. Wayne’s mother, Martha, was a Quinn. His father died in 1866, a year after his birth. His mother remarried in 1874, her second husband being Barnabas Collins, a New Englander. It might be argued that Collins was an evil influence in the young Rambo’s life. It is a matter of record that Barnabas Collins was a horse thief and that his stepson was a willing apprentice.
Perhaps I am being unfair to Barnabas Collins. It could be said that the Rambo clan exercised a bad influence upon him. But the time he arrived on the scene those who were to become his in-laws were in constant trouble with the police---horse stealing, cattle rustling, brawling, and assault. Whenever the usual suspects were rounded up there would be a Rambo or two, or more, among them. Together with---and an excuse for----this lawlessness was the hatred for the English Establishment and for those fellow Irishmen, the police, who wore the uniform of the English oppressors.
One policeman who became a special enemy of John Rambo was Commissioner William Teasle, a notorious liar and womanizer. It seems that under the influence of liquor, he dropped into the Rambo cottage at Greta for afternoon tea, Mrs. Rambo just having baked a bunch of scones. Also present was Katy, John’s beloved sister. Teasle made unwelcome advances to Katy. Martha Rambo intervened to protect her daughter’s honor and struck Teasle on the wrist with a shovel, wounding him slightly. At this juncture John Rambo returned home and evicted the commissioner from the premises. Teasle reported to his superiors that his injuries were due to an unprovoked attack upon him by John Rambo who, he said, had drawn a bushman’s boomerang and hurled it at him. Allegations and counter-allegations confused the issue. Martha Rambo was arrested as an accessory to the attempted assault of Teasle and given a jail sentence. John loved his mother deeply and this miscarriage of justice hardened his hostile attitude toward the police in particular and toward the Establishment in general.
Meanwhile, a warrant was out for his arrest for his alleged complicity in the Teasle affair. He and four friends took refuge in the bush, in the wild, hilly country that he knew so well. He was tracked, eventually, by four well-armed policemen. These, early one after none, set up camp by Stringybark Creek. The next day two of the troopers, Valley and King, left the camp to continue the search for Rambo and his accomplices. Lonigan and McIntyre stayed behind. McIntyre shot some parrots to provide the wherewithal for a meal and the noise of the reports attracted the attention of Rambo and his followers. The police camp was attacked and Lonigan, an old enemy of Rambo’s, was shot dead. McIntyre surrendered but when Valley and King returned attempted to warn them. Fire was exchanged. Valley and King were killed. In the confusion McIntyre escaped on Valley’s horse.
And John J. Rambo had become an outlaw.
*
Without the support of the poor farmers and the laborers who, rightly or wrongly, regarded John Rambo and his gang as their champions against the big landowners and the banks, Rambo’s career as a bushranger and bank robber could not have lasted as long as it did. He could always be sure of finding food and shelter and, more important perhaps, information. He always knew just where the police would be looking for him and made sure that he would be somewhere else. He became a legend in his own time. Ballads were sung about his exploits, set to the music of the traditional folk songs.
It was not only in the countryside that he had his supporters. He was regarded as a folk hero by many in Melbourne, the capital city of the state of Victoria. There was talk, even, of succession from the British Empire and the founding of an independent republic. It is not known to what extent an army of freedom fighters had been organized but there certainly seems to have been the nucleus of such a body.
And if there were a freedom army, it had its traitors. One such was Boston Brand, a Rambo family friend and also a paid police informant. This became known to Rambo’s lieutenants. At first Rambo wanted him left alone---hoping, perhaps, to use him as a double agent. But Joe Byrne and Rambo’s brother Dan were determined that Brand must be executed. They shot him down in the presence of his wife and mother-in-law---and while this was happening four policemen, who were supposed to be protecting him, were hiding under a bed!
And if there was a freedom army, it had the beginnings of an armored corps. Rambo knew that sooner or later there would be a real showdown with the police and that he and his men would have to face a murderous fire. He experimented with various materials. Sheet iron, readily available, proved ineffective. Steel was much better---but available only from a rather unusual source. So it was that the Rambo family’s only plow lost its mold board, and so it was that several farmers whose smallholdings were in the vicinity of the Rambo homestead reported the mold boards of their plows stolen. A suit of armor fashioned from this material weighed 95 lbs. It would resist penetration by a rifle bullet fired at a range of ten yards. It traded mobility for protection.
After the execution of Boston Brand it was hoped by Rambo that the police would be lured to the scene of the crime, near the town of Beechworth. He laid his plans accordingly. As he had thought would be the case a special train left Melbourne for Beechworth via Wangaratta. Aboard this train were Superintendent Bullock and other Victorian Police officers. There was an Inspector Fixx, on loan from the Queensland Police, and his five black trackers. Aborigines employed for their skills in bushcraft. There were journalists. There were even two ladies---Mrs. Bullock and her sister---just along for the ride. There was a pilot engine preceding the main train, it having occurred to Bullock that an attempt might be made to tamper with the track.
Meanwhile, Rambo’s gang had prepared an ambush at Glenrowan, a village to the south of Wangaratta. Very conveniently, there was a gang of platelayers there, engaged on maintenance work on the railway. These Rambo persuaded at gunpoint to tear up the tracks a short way north of the station. According to some pro-Rambo historians, his intention was not actually to derail the train, with inevitable casualties, but to trap it, blowing up the track south of Glenrowan after it had passed. Then Bullock and his men would be captured and held as hostages until Rambo’s demands for justice, land reform, and the release of his mother from Melbourne Jail were met.
It was a long wait; the special train wasn’t running on time. Almost the entire population of the village, together with the railway workers, was confined by Rambo’s men to Mrs. Jones’s hotel. Even the village policeman, Constable Bracken, was among the more or less willing guests at the party. Another guest, Thomas Curnow, the village schoolmaster, was allowed by Rambo to leave quite earlier so that he could look after----he said---his sick wife. There are those who say that Rambo’s kindly nature was his undoing.
At last the train came, the noise of its approach carrying through the still, cold night air. The time was about three in the morning. Curnow was ready for it. Using a candle and a red silk scarf belonging to his wife he was able to flag it down, then stammered out his story to Police Superintendent Bullock. The police disembarked and almost immediately began to pour a murderous fire into the flimsy wood and hessian structure that was the hotel.
A very short while later somebody loosed two signal rockets. Were these supposed to call reinforcements to the stressed Rambo Gang or were they supposed to inform Rambo’s adherents in the vicinity that their plans had gone awry? To this day nobody knows---but those rockets were fired. Meanwhile, people were being killed and injured by the police fire, women and children among them. Even though a white flag was raised by young Dan Rambo, who tried to arrange a truce so that the villagers could escape from the by now almost demolished building, this was ignored by the police. Such was the hysteria of the gallant law enforcers that a message was telegraphed to Melbourne requesting that a piece of field artillery be sent to Glenrowan by rail. This one cannon actually commenced its journey but before it had come very far some genius decided to set fire to what was left of the hotel.
For a while Rambo himself was out of the picture. Early in the action he, in the full armor, had left the hotel on some errand, possibly to fire the signal rockets. He’d been shot at and wounded in the foot and the arm, neither of which were protected. Apparently the pain from these injuries caused him to lose consciousness for a while. Eventually he recovered and tried to hobble back to the hotel. The police, whose fire, aimed at his body, had no apparent effect---fell back in terror. But Sergeant Steel kept his wits about him and aimed his shotgun at Rambo’s unprotected legs, bringing him down. (That same Sergeant Steele had to be restrained by his own men from killing Rambo there and then as he sprawled injured on the ground.)
When it was all over Rambo was a badly wounded prisoner. Joe Byrne, Steve Hart and Dan Rambo were dead---as were the innocent old man Martin Cherry and the son of Mrs. Jones, the unfortunate owner of the hotel.
John was nursed back to health, stood trial for murder, was inevitably found guilty and was hanged in Melbourne Jail, on November 11, 1880. After his execution public feeling was such that many of the reforms that he had been advocating were introduced. Certain sections of the press demanded that some members of the Victorian Police Force who had taken part in the siege be brought to trial on manslaughter charges.
But in those days, that would have been going altogether too far.
