The Queen of White Feather –

TOM DOYLE, licensee of the Kanowna Hotel (White Feather) in 1896, introduced the first barmaid to the fields. There were, women in the camp, and drink was sold in the shacks they inhabited, but of this brand, the diggers had Eastern, recollections. Tom decided, on advice, to put in his bar a queen of the saloons, a lady, as to dress, deportment and manners. “It would be a big thing, Tom,” said his adviser. “You’d have a magnet to pull the boys in, and it would take the Warden and a copy of the ‘Riot Act’ to get ’em ‘out while they had the price of a drink in their clothes, Y’ll double your takings right away.”

“Not that the money’s any good t’ me, said Tom;  “but if I doubled me takins, I’d get, maybe, half  av what’s comin’ in now.  Every bare armed  beer pullcr down that counter takes his cut. before I get mine. I don’t get the full half of whats spent in the house. Maybe if I was taking twice as much I’d be making more, but at the same time loosing more.
‘What put ‘the idea of a barmaid in your mind?”

“T tell ya the truth Tom, I’ve got a hankering t’ see a fine Australian girl,

a real lady with lady’s manners.” “That’s a big order,” grunted the landlord of the Kanowna. “Still, I’ll do it. I’ll put one  over on Mick Donellan across t’ road. Not a word to the boys! Come with me and we’ll write a letter to Mick. Kennedy. I’ll tell him to rob the biggest bar in Sydney of the finest girl he sees. Ten pounds a week, and first class transport.”

Kennedy carried out his  instructions. He selected a girl who fitted the bill, and crowded over on both margins. She was smuggled into the camp at night and assigned to her private quarters, fitted out with utter disregard of cost. – Tom was going the whole length of the string. Next day the news was permitted to filter through the channels of bar gossip. Tom confirmed current rumours that the finest girl who had so far come to the West was to be installed as

‘The Queen of the dispensary’ on Monday morning.

Evidence in support was furnished by the erection of a dais at one end of the bar. Richly carpeted with a gilt chair approached by velvet curtains and the minor equipment of a miniature drawing room. The “throne” was accepted as proof of the coming of the Queen ……

“Ye’ coves, y’r better be on y’r best behaviour,” Tom warned his clients. “This ones something different from what y’ve been used to!

The installation of the ‘Queen’ was a ceremonious affair. Punctually at 10 a.m., Tom lifted a hand, and the curtains of the. dais were drawn to disclose a blond and massive beauty, young, sweet and gracious. ‘ .”Champagne! Put up a case of it Bill! ” shouted a whiskered, prospector.  “Gentlemen, I drink to the health of the Queen of the Feather!”

Tom Doyle’s Kanowna Hotel c 1900 – Photo SLWA

“Business is begun,” said Doyle to the girl. “There’s twenty barmen there with orders t’ jump if ya hold up y’r finger. I’ll leave y’ to it,”  Twenty minutes, later, a barman found the landlord. “That girl’s broke down” he said “She’s cryin’ I think she’s goin’ t’ have histeriks;” ‘”What th’ divils the matter?” gasped Doyle! “Y’ better ask her,” was the sane response to the enquiry.’  Tom dashed into the saloon. The information was correct. The girl had gone to pieces. Two hundred troubled men in front of the bar were looking at her helplessly. Twenty bare armed beer pullers of Doyle’s command were looking at them helplessly.

“In the’ name of Hivin, what’s, wrong, me girl?”, Tom asked, kindly. She clung sobbing to him. “Oh Mr Doyle” she said, “I couldn’t stay here, I’d go mad! Such swearing! I’ve been in bars for years, but this is too, too awful! ” The boys were a bit loose in their speech. Their profanity was a habit. Words that had no meaning qualified all their utterences unthinkingly. Tom knew the men and their ways — which were his ways. He knew every man in the crowd was clean at heart. He knew too, the manner in which to handle them, and he employed it.

“Stop servin drinks!” he bellowed to the line of barmen. He reinstated the Queen in the chair she had abandoned, took a position at her side, and overlooked the multitude.

“A nice lot of  *+%#  y’are! A foul mouth’d gang of dirty under bred scum with neither decency nor discretion in what does for yr minds. Yr manners is the manners, of the gutters of Sydney and Milbourne. Y’r talk is the talk of the fish markets.  Y’ low down lot of slugs and worms, what are y’ that a man should spind money t bring  ye a lady frum the saloon of the foinest hotel in Sydney. A lady used to the, language of decent men. I had it in me mind, that she’d lift ye out of the muck yer wallow in — an what’s t’ result?

She tells me she canna  stay a minute longer in the place!” A thirsty digger jiggled a glass on the counter. “Throw that ‘son of a gun out’! Through the winda, if there’s no way to get him through the door!” (Crash! The thirsty one went out.)
“And now, y ‘ll all give heed t’ what I say, the next swine that grunts a bad word within the hearing of Miss Mclvor, I’ll beat black and blue if its the last thing I do in this life!” He turned to the Queen.: “I tink y’ll hear no more of it Miss Mclvor,” he said gallantly to the horrified girl.

“Go on se’rvin drinks!” he commanded!