The following first-hand account from a famous, well-known Adelaide publican, Frederick William Augustus Klauer, was published in the South Australian publication, Quiz and the Lantern, on 17 February 1898. It’s a fascination look into the life of a German immigrant, who built a successful life in Australia through grit and determination.

Those who know Councillor Klauer well are aware of the fact that he has had an eventful history; how eventful this interviewette will demonstrate. Councillor Klauer has a wonderfully faithful memory, and he is an excellent raconteur. Let this brief introduction suffice. What Councillor Klauer has to tell is good enough to stand by itself.

“I was born in Gloina, in Germany, on October 27, 1829, he told Quiz one day last week. “When I was six years of age my parents shifted to Magdeburgfurth, near Ziesar, in Prussia. There up to the age of 14 I received my education. After that I went to the University of Heidel-burg for two years, and thence to Prieburg for eighteen months. Aban-doning the idea of studying for the law I joined the 3rd company of the 10th Hussars, stationed at Ashersle-ben. That was in March 1848, after the revolution. Our duties took us from place to place skirmishing after the Stockmas, who were the revolutionaries — The Socialists of that day. We were ordered to Hessia, and that was where the battle of Bronzel, which some of my friends chaff me about, occurred. We were marching along a high ridge, and our opponents, who were in the valley, fired on us. Some of our men got bullets through the sleeves, and I got one through my headdress, and the grey horse of our trumpeter was wounded. That was what the Germans called the Schimmel of Bronzel. Our regiment was ordered to Baden, where I was present at the taking of Restadt. I rode over bodies piled two feet in depth, and the only injury I received was a bayonet wound in my thigh, the scar of which yet remains. The insurgents came out of Restadt, piled their arms, and were taken prisoners. We remained at Restadt for ten months, and then re-turned to the garrison at Ashersleben.”

“Just about this time the Crimean War broke out, and I applied for leave to join the German regiment at Aldershot in England, so that I might go to the Crimea. What a fool I was, wasn’t I? But then I was only a boy, and knew no better. However, I found on arrival at Aldershot that the purchase system was in vogue in England, and they had nothing better than the position of corporal, or at the outside sergeant, to offer me. As I had been a commissioned officer in Prussia I declined the appointment, and did not go to the Crimea. I paid a visit to a cousin of mine in York-shire, and afterwards sailed for America. I spent three months in New York, and then hearing glowing accounts of Australia, I returned to Liverpool. Well, my money was exhausted. I was what the Australians call stony broke, and after a while I joined a German band on board the clipper James Baines, of the Black Ball Line, trading between Liverpool and Melbourne. I had learnt music at college, and could play both the cornet and violin After getting to Melbourne I determined to visit Adelaide, to see some friends who had come out here, but they had all gone off to the diggings, so I went back to Melbourne, and started off for the diggings also.”

“I travelled from Melbourne by steamer to Geelong — there were no railways in those days — and walked from Geelong to Ballarat, humping my bluey. That was just before the Eureka Stockade Riot. You will see that I was destined to be mixed up with riots as I go along. Anyway, I joined a band of music to play the diggers up to the Stockade, and saw something of the fighting. That affair being over, I returned to Melbourne and joined a band of music to go to the diggings. We played at the McIvor for some time, and then went on to Goulburn, where I worked for six months with a Chilian mill with very little luck. Thence we went to the Murchison, on the Goulburn river, and had no luck. We crossed the Goulburn on a rope, hand over hand, and went to the Ovens diggings, where I joined another German band. I took out a claim just alongside the creek, although the diggers said it was foolishness to do so, and at a depth of 25 feet struck a pocket, out of which I and my mates took 80 ozs. of gold. We did very well there, making £500 each per man in about four weeks. My next move was to the Buckland Ranges, right at the foot of the Ovens river. Here I had the misfortune to encounter another riot, the Buckland Riot. Jack Clarke, who is well known in sporting circles in Adelaide, was there. It was a question of licenses and Chinamen. We drove the Chinamen into the river, and the police were called up. It was not much of an affair.”

“Then the Indigo diggings broke out, and I went there, but very rarely had any success. After that I went to the Durham Lead, about two miles from Indigo. While working in a claim one of my mates thought he could straighten a prop with a blow from an axe, the prop fell out, and I was buried for four hours in the drive. A big boulder fell right over my body and saved me. There was just sufficient air for me to breathe, but I was nearly gone when they got me out. After this I sold out of that claim. I did not want to go down that shaft any more. Would you? With four companions I started for the Snowy River diggings. We went through Albury, Tumberumba, Adelong, Tumut, up Mount Talbingo, over Gibson’s Plains, on to Kyandera, where I remained for a twelve month and did fairly well. Then the Mount Crackenback diggings broke out at the foot of Mount Koscuisko. I went there, but had no success. Coming back we were snowed in for three days. On the fourth our dog caught a kangaroo rat, which we boiled and ate. Next day we killed the dog and ate him. Taste ? It tasted first rate; we were hungry. I ought to have told you that at Kyandera I joined a music band, two members of which, the Gruneklee Brothers, are still living in Adelaide.”

“On my return to Kyandera I joined another band, and then went from Tumut to Adelong, and thence to Lambing Flat. I just had the misfortune to arrive there when a riot was proceeding. Yes, I seemed to strike them every time. We got to Stony Creek at the first roll up, as they called it, and going on to Lambing Flat, which is now the township of Young, we saw 12,000 diggers camped on the plain. I stayed there for some months, and then a second riot occurred. The Chinamen were burnt out of their tents by the diggers. The only man killed, a man named Lupton. dropped by my side, and I thought he was shamming. Several men were severely wounded by sabre cuts from the mounted police. I hardly know how I got across a creek when the police charged us, but I got hold of a sapling, and switched it over the head of the nearest horse causing it to cut capers and turn round and bolt. When the first charge came I threw myself flat on the ground, knowing I would be safe from the sabres in that position. The diggers were quite unarmed. One poor fellow had his nose and upper lip cut clean off. When I had got over the creek I leant against a clothes prop, and a bullet fired by the police went right into the prop. Then I went inside an hotel near by, because I thought it was not good enough to remain in the open making myself a target. The balls from the rifles and revolvers of the police rattled on the hotel roof like hail. There was a hawker about 200 yards away from where I was who was shot through the leg. A man named Lazarus, now living in Adelaide, was sworn in as a special constable during this riot, and at Auburn there is living a man named Kennett who was in the police force at the time. There were 500 soldiers, and I don’t know how many sailors sent to Lambing Fiat, and they had four cannons ready for use.”

“When I was at the Woolshed I met a man who had taken £12,000 out of the ground. His favorite pursuit was to play skittles with champagne bottles at a guinea a bottle. Once he walked into the hotel and asked the landlord how much liquor he had in his bar and what it was worth. The value was reckoned at £80. The man made the landlord stack the grog on the bar counter, and then swept it off with a piece of board, smashing the lot. ‘Here’s your £80,’ he said, ‘and I’ll never come into your pub again if you don’t keep better stuff.’ I afterwards met this same man in Dunedin, when he hadn’t a cent to bless himself with. At the Woolshed I met Robert O’Hara Burke, who afterwards lost his life exploring. He was Warden of Goldfields, and he and I were great chums. On one occasion, I remember, there was a dispute between two Irishmen respecting a claim, and they went at it hammer, and tongs. Burke sat down on a heap of dirt, and said, ‘Now look here, boys, there’s nothing I like better than a good old Irish shindy. You go on and fight it out.’ They did go on with axe-handles and so forth, and when they had finished Burke said, ‘Now tell me what it is all about,’ and ‘he gave his decision. Burke was a thorough gentleman. He spoke German fluently, and for twelve months we were constant companions. Some time later when his remains had been recovered from the bush I had the melancholy satisfaction of attending his funeral.”

“After the Lambing Flat episode I returnei to the Ovens, and speculated the little money I had saved in a claim called the Homeward Bound, at Christmas Town, between Cornish Town and Rutherglen. I worked there till I had lost every penny, and then went to Beechworth, working on the quartz claims at the Three-Mile. My next move was to the Gippsland diggings, and I took a posi-tion as storekeeper at Raspberry Creek, near Woods Point. I stayed there until I had saved sufficient money to get to New Zealand. Thither I went in the Aldinga with George Griffiths, a violin player, and we got an engagement from a man named P. Kilgower to play at the Hogburn diggings.

When we arrived there was about four feet of snow on the ground, but we stayed for four months. Then the claims being nearly worked out we were sent by Kilgower to Dunstan, on the Molyneux, and after further travelling I set out for Dunedin, where I found some old mates, and where I opened a German sausage shop. This we kept going for three months, when I got tired of it, and returned to Melbourne in the Omeo (Captain Logan). Having nothing particular to do in Melbourne I joined an American circus to play round the suburbs and in the city. I came to Adelaide with the circus, met Mr. Schnader and Mr. Heidicke, of the Brunswick Band, left the circus, and have remained in Adelaide ever since. I played in the old Theatre Royal orchestra, and also in the Brunswick Band. Then I took the Clarendon Hotel, afterwards going into the Lady Fergusson Hotel, and I was in the White Hart Hotel for thirty years. I suppose I am the oldest publican in Adelaide, although now out of the business. At all events I paid 32 licence fees.”

Councillor Klauer has passed through all the chairs in the Forresters’ Order, and is now District Trustee of that Order. In the Masonic Order he has also passed all the chairs, and he is now P.D.G. Senior Warden in the Irish Constitution, a Knight of St. John of Jerusalem, Palestine, Rhodes, and Malta, and a Grand Prelate of the Order of Knight Templars’ Since 1880, with intervals, Mr. Klauer has represented Gawler Ward in the City Corporation.

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