FROM Swedish sailor to colonial publican, Alexander Reid was a man who lived life at full tilt before settling down to pull pints on George Street, Bathurst.
Born on 17 February 1837 in the historic walled town of Visby, on the Baltic island of Gotland, Sweden, Reid felt the pull of distant horizons early in life. Leaving the cold Baltic waters behind, he made his way to New South Wales, eventually landing in the booming goldfields hub of Bathurst. It was here that the Swede traded his sea legs for local hospitality and won the heart of a local lass, Elizabeth Kirkman.
Elizabeth, born in Bathurst in 1844, married Alexander in 1865. Together, the couple established themselves as fixtures of the local community. By the late 1880s, Reid set his sights on establishing a new watering hole to cater to the city’s burgeoning working-class tradesmen and railway workers.
In July 1889, the New South Wales Government Gazette officially recorded the licensing of the Tradesmen’s Arms Hotel, located at 50–58 George Street, Bathurst, with Alexander Reid as its inaugural host. Reid’s new house quickly became a bustling center of camaraderie, local gossip, and cold beer for the town’s labourers.
The hotel was alternatively referred to as the Tradesmen’s/Tradesman’s and Trademan’s Arms over the years.
Reid’s tenure at the helm was tragically brief. Less than a year after opening the doors, local shockwaves spread through George Street when Reid died suddenly at the hotel on Wednesday, 7 May 1890, aged just 53. As the National Advocate noted the following morning:
The sudden death of Mr. Alexander Reid occurred at his hotel, George-street, yesterday. He had resided in the city for a long time, and has a large circle of friends.
The following afternoon, Thursday, 8 May 1890, funeral procession undertakers Mrs. Wellington & Son led a large cortege of grieving friends from the Tradesmans Arms down to the Bathurst Cemetery, where the pioneering Swedish publican was laid to rest. His widow, Elizabeth, survived him by more than three decades, passing away at the age of 76 or 77 on 1 December 1921, and was buried alongside her husband.
The Arrival of Frederick Plant
With Reid’s untimely passing, the keys to the Tradesmen’s Arms were handed over to an energetic, 31-year-old Irishman named Frederick Charles Plant.
Born in Dublin, Ireland, in 1859, Frederick was the son of John Plant and Catherine Plant (née Lynch). Emigrating to Australia, Plant made his way down to the picturesque Tumut district of southern NSW. It was there, at the Church of the Immaculate Conception in Tumut on 15 March, that he married local girl Mary Walsh, daughter of Mrs. J. Walsh of Bombowlee.
The young couple soon started a family, welcoming two sons in rapid succession: Percy George Plant in 1886, and William Henry “Willie” Plant in 1889. Looking to establish a prosperous future for his young family, Plant took over the license of the Tradesmans Arms in 1890 following Reid’s death.
Publican life in 19th-century Bathurst, however, was rarely without drama or the scrutiny of local law enforcement.
Trouble with the Law: The Malachi Incident
It didn’t take long for Frederick Plant to find himself standing before the magistrate at the Bathurst Police Court. On Tuesday, 25 November 1890, Senior-Sergeant Musgrove prosecuted Plant under colonial liquor laws for supplying an Aboriginal man, John Malachi, with alcohol.
The court took a strict view of the breach, inflicting a fine of 40 shillings plus costs upon the licensee.
While Plant maintained order for the remainder of his 14-month stay at George Street, his health began to fail him. Suffering severely from chronic, crippling rheumatism, Plant sought a change of scene, hoping the fresh air of the surrounding countryside would grant him relief.
Exit to Brewongle and a Licensing Battle
On 20 July 1891, the license of the Tradesmans Arms was transferred from Frederick Plant to George Shepherd. A month later, on Thursday, 20 August 1891, Plant appeared before Licensing Magistrate J. B. Graham seeking to acquire the license of the Brewongle Hotel (also known as the Railway Hotel, Brewongle) from the Official Assignee.
The transfer, however, ran into immediate headwinds from the police. Licensing Inspector Sergeant Morris submitted a fiery report to the Bench:
During the period he kept the Tradesman’s Arms Hotel, Plant was fined 40s for supplying liquor to an aboriginal. Otherwise, he kept good order in his house, but he was given to habits of intemperance and it was open to question as to the way he would be able to conduct a public house at Brewongle, where there would be very little police supervision.
Plant’s solicitor, Mr. McIntosh, hit back hard, pointing out that Plant had run the Tradesmans Arms for over a year without any objection during his annual renewal. He argued that Plant’s sole motivation for leaving Bathurst was ill-health, as doctors had advised a move to the country.
When given a chance to speak, Plant directly defended himself against the accusation of drunkenness and cleared up the Malachi incident:
Mr. Plant said he suffered very much from rheumatism, and it was that which led many to believe he was in the habit of drinking. The case of serving an aboriginal with drink was that the blackfellow came into the bar one day and took the drink which had been served out to another gentleman.
Swayed by the defence, Magistrate Graham granted the transfer, though not without lecturing Plant to keep an orderly house and abstain from heavy drinking.
Tragedy at the Railway Hotel, Brewongle
The venue Plant was taking over had its own colourful and chaotic history. Just over a year prior, in May 1890, the Brewongle Hotel had been completely burnt to the ground, with property losses insured for £250. Rebuilt as the Railway Hotel, Brewongle, it catered to railway men, timber getters, and country travellers on the line just east of Bathurst.
Regrettably, the countryside air did not restore Plant’s failing body. Consumption (tuberculosis) and underlying complications took a severe toll.
On Thursday, 28 January 1892 — just five months after taking over the Brewongle house — Frederick Plant passed away at the Railway Hotel. He was just 33 years old.
On Friday morning, 29 January 1892, undertaker J. B. Wellington led the funeral procession from the Railway Hotel to the Church of England Cemetery at Kelso, where the Reverend D. P. Hatchard officiated over his burial.
The tragedy of the Plant family did not end in Kelso. Mary Plant, left widowed with two young boys aged just three and six, returned to her family home at Bombowlee, near Tumut. A decade later, the same disease that claimed her husband caught up with Mary.
On 4 August 1903, Mary Plant died of consumption at her mother’s home in Bombowlee. The Adelong and Tumut Express published a poignant tribute to her final days:
On the 4th instant death visited Bombowlee and carried away a kind and affectionate mother… The cause of death was consumption, and she was compelled for the last five weeks to sit leaning back in a chair. She bore her suffering calmly and patiently till death released her from a trouble that carried her husband off some years previous. She leaves two sorrowing sons and numerous friends to mourn her untimely loss.
Along Comes Mary Ellen Finlay
The original host of the pub, widow, Elizabeth Reid returned briefly as publican in 1894 before Mary Ellen Finlay took the reins of the Tradesmen’s Arms in 1895.
Finlay had previously hosted the Enterprize Hotel at nearby Evans Plains, and would go on to host the Tradesmen’s Arms on George Street for 22 years.
A veteran hotelier who knew how to manage a bustling house, her resilience had been forged in a far darker fire: a history shadowed by domestic terror, sudden violence, and the desperate measures required to survive a husband consumed by drink.
That violent past reached its terrifying climax in 1886, leaving behind one of the most grim and tragic inquests in the history of the Bathurst district.
High Hopes and a Fateful License
In early 1886, Henry Finlay set his sights on opening a public house at Evans Plains to capture the trade of travellers heading in and out of Bathurst. Despite heavy drinking in the lead-up to his application, Henry managed to secure his publican’s license after presenting glowing character references from several prominent locals.
For Mary Ellen, however, any hope of a fresh start vanished the moment the doors opened. Henry descended into a non-stop binge, managing barely 14 sober days across his entire two-month tenure as host.
A Siege of Violence at Evans Plains
As chronic drunkenness took hold, Henry’s temper turned murderous. Isolated at the rural inn without rapid police assistance, Mary Ellen and her daughter were forced into physical combat within their own home just to keep themselves alive.
- Sunday: Intoxicated and volatile, Henry threatened to “rip his wife open,” struck Mary Ellen across the arm, and hurled a cup at his daughter. Working together, the two women managed to overpower him, dragging him to a bed and binding him down. He snapped the ropes and freed himself within 20 minutes to repeat his threats.
- Monday: The aggression intensified. Fearing for their lives, Mary Ellen and her daughter knocked Henry down, hauled him out to the property’s stable, and strapped him down.
- The Final Restraint: After breaking loose again and renewing his violent rages, the women were forced to haul him back to the stable, binding him securely to a post with heavy rope to end the siege.
After dinner that evening, two of the Finlay daughters went out to the stable to check on their father. They found him lying cold and motionless on the floor.
The Magisterial Inquiry
On Thursday afternoon, Magistrate H.H. Hutchinson, J.P., convened a formal inquiry into the sudden death.
When asked why she hadn’t summoned the police during the days of terror, a desperate Mary Ellen testified that she feared the immediate cancellation of their newly acquired hotel license, adding that her husband had steadfastly refused to see a doctor.
Dr. Bassett performed the post-mortem examination and delivered vital testimony: Henry Finlay had died of severe heart disease, heavily accelerated by acute alcohol abuse. Crucially, the physician confirmed that the physical restraints used by Mary Ellen and her daughter had in no way hastened his death.
Magistrate Hutchinson officially ruled the death as natural causes accelerated by intemperance. Mary Ellen and her daughters were cleared of all fault—closing a brutal chapter in Mary Ellen’s life and etching the tragic tale of the Evans Plains pub into local lore.
During Mary Ellen Finlay’s record 22-year tenure at the Tradesmen’s Arms, surviving tough patrons and colonial life was all part of the job. But on the afternoon of Thursday, 8 December 1910, the historic George Street pub faced a sudden threat from a completely unexpected force: the elements themselves.
A Sudden Freak Storm Hits George Street
Around 4 o’clock in the afternoon, a heavy storm swept over Bathurst, bringing with it a fierce localized whirlwind. In a matter of seconds, the vortex caught under the front facade of the Tradesmen’s Arms at 50–58 Lower George Street, demonstrating the tremendous, destructive power of nature.
The whirlwind lifted beneath the pub’s newly constructed balcony with stupendous force — tearing heavy support beams straight out of the brick wall and tearing rafters, iron railings, and roofing material into the air.
“Snapped Like Sticks”
With a thunderous crash that shook the entire neighborhood, the entire two-storey structure collapsed onto the footpath below, reducing the front of Mrs. Finlay’s hotel to a tangled heap of ruins.
- Structural Failure: Heavy cast-iron support pillars holding up both the balcony floor and roof snapped like twigs under the weight of the twisting timber and iron.
- Twisted Metal: Iron roof sheets were crumpled like paper and strewn across the roadway.
- Narrow Escapes: Miraculously, no patrons or staff were on or beneath the balcony when it tore free. Several pedestrians walking along George Street had narrow escapes as flying debris crashed down around them.
The disaster struck a heavy financial blow to the pub. The upper balcony had only recently been constructed over the original verandah at a cost of nearly £200 — a substantial sum for the era.
Local residents noted the rare phenomenon recalled a similar catastrophe in Durham Street a few years prior, when extreme wind gusts tore the entire roof off a two-storey building and dumped it into the street. Footpath traffic along Lower George Street remained blocked for hours while council workers and locals cleared the wreckage from in front of Mary Ellen’s taproom.
Mary Ellen Finlay died while licensee of the Tradesmen’s Arms in 1917. The Bathurst National Advocate reported on Saturday 10 November 1917:
The death took place at an early hour yesterday morning of Mrs. Mary Ellen Finlay, a very old and respected resident of Bathurst and the proprietress of Finlay’s hotel, George-street. Mrs. Finlay, who was 67 years of age, was the daughter of the late Mr. and Mrs. Kirkman. She had been ill for some time past, but until the past few days the condition of her health did not cause any serious anxiety. Four daughters, Mrs. Don Kenna, Mrs. C. Hunt, Mrs. T. A. Whiteley and Miss Finlay, and one son, Mr. Bert Finlay, are left to mourn the loss of a good and loving mother. The funeral takes place this afternoon at three o’clock.
The Last Drinks at the Tradesmans Arms
The Tradesmen’s Arms Hotel continued to operate through the turn of the century under a succession of publicans, surviving economic downturns and changing town dynamics.
However, the post-WWI era brought a wave of temperance reform and government rationalisation across New South Wales. The state government established the Licenses Reduction Board (Delicensing Board) to systematically shut down pubs deemed redundant or unprofitable.
In early 1922, the axe fell on George Street. Owner and licensee W. A. Colley was notified that the historic pub was slated for closure.
On Friday, 20 January 1922, The Farmer and Settler reported the historic end of an era:
AFTER FIFTY YEARS. Old Bathurst Hotel Closed. The first hotel in the Bathurst (N.S.W.) electorate to close as the result of the recent decision of the Delicensing Board is the Tradesmens’s Arms Hotel. The licensee and owner is W. A. Colley. The hotel was one of the oldest in the west, and the license had been in existence for over fifty years.
After more than half a century of pouring cold beer, comforting weary travellers, and hosting characters like Alexander Reid, Frederick Plant and Mary Ellen Finlay, the pumps were locked, the doors were closed, and the Tradesmen’s Arms poured its very last drink.
© Copyright Mick Roberts 2026
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Categories: Australian Hotels, NSW hotels, Publicans
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