Clancy.
Outback Character

Clancy's Suzuki

I first met Clancy at Ti Tree in the Northern Territory, when he came over to the family camp in the caravan park. He was tall, very thin, had one good eye and one good arm.

Other parts of him were a bit of a mess from "a fight with a swing-saw when I was wood cutting".

I remember the conversation went something like this.

Clancy: “You don’t want to live here with these mongrels.”

Geoff: “Which mongrels do you mean?”

Clancy: “The mongrels that run the pub and this place. They’ve banned me for life.”

Geoff: “Well that’s bad luck. But really, we’re all right here.”

Clancy: “”All right”! Bullshit! Look at the size of that tent! Come on I’ve got a caravan all ready for you. “Mrs Local” has even been over and cleaned it for you.”

How could one resist an argument like that?

Our little family had moved within the hour.

From then on there was never a dull moment in their life in Ti Tree.

Clancy had a fixed opinion on everything. If I decided to argue with him, Clancy would record the details in his diary that night so he could remember the details if he needed to refer to them later. Everything went into Clancy’s diary. He was worried that he had early dementia and fretted about forgetting important things. The diary is apparently in the Alice Springs Museum now.

Clancy didn’t get on well with all the other Ti Tree locals and had one enemy in particular, called Tosser. Tosser apparently had a reputation of throwing anything within reach when he lost his temper, and so the reason for his nickname. Clancy reckoned Tosser had “ripped him off”. He had borrowed six bags of cement 10 years ago and Clancy couldn’t find any record of their return in his diary.

Many years before, when the Wave Hill aboriginal stockmen went on strike, Clancy was right in the middle of things. He and many others including Nugget Coombes, later the Reserve Bank governor, and Frank Hardy, the famous Australian author, camped with the strikers. Their combined efforts eventually led to aboriginal people being recognised a “proper Australians” and eventually to Land Rights for their people.

Being a sworn Communist Party member, Clancy’s oft-repeated war cry was:

“You can kill the people. But you can’t kill the principle!”

He apparently spent a bit of time in Paraguay when things got a bit hot for the communists in Australia during the 1950’s.

His mud brick home was on the site of the original Ti Tree store. It had fallen down years before but Clancy remembered it and had built a replica beside his house. Unfortunately he couldn’t find enough of the tough Mulga logs for the frame and had to finish it off with Sugar Gum logs.

Well, the white ants loved the Sugar Gum. They thanked Clancy by eating the logs and building their home in them. Clancy tried everything to get rid of them. He tried sump oil, kerosene, sheep dip, cattle drench, even his own urine! One day Dave called in to find him in tears, screaming like a bullock driver and madly attacking the white ants with an aerosol can of oven cleaner.

Poor old Clancy has since passed on and the white ants were left to demolish his pride and joy.

It was coming up to Christmas time in Ti Tree and there was to be a big “DO” at the roadhouse pub. Everyone in town was invited but not Clancy. In a move inspired by Christmas spirit, I managed to convince “the mongrels” (who weren’t bad people, really) to invite him, as long as I took responsibility for him.

The day arrived. Clancy, in his finest, The family and I, all headed to the pub.

Every one was enjoying the Christmas festivities and the place was buzzing. Clancy, like everyone else there, had downed a few when he spotted his arch enemy, Tosser!

“You barstard. Where is my cement?” screamed Clancy.

“What f..ing Cement?” yelled Tosser.

“Those six bags you borrowed in 1981”

“I replaced them years ago!”

“Did not”

“Did so, you idiot!”

Clancy threw a punch.

Mike, the policeman decided then it was time for me to take Clancy home. I got him there eventually and left Clancy sitting at his kitchen table with a bottle of whiskey that I had convinced “the mongrels” to sell him.

A couple of hours after I had returned to the party, a significantly drunker Clancy burst through the door. After a bit of a scuffle with the enormous policeman, Mike, Clancy weakened a bit and I managed to take him home again, before he caused any damage. This time I put Clancy in bed and left him in the dark.

The night went on uninterrupted.

Next morning, I was out, gingerly walking around and promising myself never to drink again, when I heard a tractor coming.

I looked up to see Tosser on his front end loader roaring towards Clancy’s house. Smoke pouring from the tractor’s exhaust. I just had time to get a glimpse of what looked like six bags of cement in the loader bucket, when the tractor crashed into the verandah.

It knocked out two verandah posts, the front door and its frame and a few mud bricks as well. There was a short and relatively quiet time as Tosser unloaded the cement in Clancy’s lounge.

“There’s your f….ing cement, you stupid barstard.” he called as he roared off back home, leaving part of the verandah sagging on the ground, and a small puff of cement dust issuing from the open lounge windows.

From Clancy's story to more Outback Yarns

More about Ti Tree