14/11/25 Fremantle Museums #2: The Round House

DB Shaw arrived in Fremantle on October 21st 1892, tasked with overseeing the unloading of his ship for his employers, Messers Simpson & Shaw, New York.  On October 27th he wrote sourly that "My crew are half drunk. Some have cleared out and the others too drunk to work."  Sarcasm crept into his writing as he noted "I have not received any letters or papers from you.  Hope you are so busy in the Store that you could not find time to write."  He signed himself off as "I am, Gentlemen, your obedient servant," and went back to supervising his recalcitrant crew.

DB Shaw's letters took pride of place in a cell in Fremantle's Round House Museum, down the end of High Street overlooking Bather's Beach and the breakwater.

The Round House occupied the top of a limestone ridge between Bather's Beach and High Street.  Completed in 1831, it is the oldest European building on the West Australian mainland and incorporated eight cells and a jailer's residence all facing into a central court yard.  

Limestone cliffs below the round house.  

The Round House was built from limestone blocks gathered by repurposing Arthur Head, the limestone ridge on which it sat.  Fremantle Whaling Company soon requested a tunnel be dug through Arthur' Head under the Round House, to facilitate moving goods from the Whaling Station to the town.  With soft limestone and a ready (if not necessarily willing) supply of prison labour, the tunnel was soon built.

The pieces of paper provided a visual representation of the wind.

We walked through the tunnel, which was temporarily taken over by an art installation that harvested the wind to generate sound.  It was all very serious and, this being Fremantle with a copious supply of wind, quite noisy.

"Don't come in here!" said the volunteer at the door, as we climbed the steps to the round house.  "Go round the back.  They're about to fire the cannon!"

Well never let it be said that I missed out on a good cannon-firing!  We dutifully traipsed around the back to the lookout at Arthur's Head where a lucky tourist got to fire the cannon under the watchful supervision of no less than a qualified cannon-firer, while over our heads a large black ball dropped anticlimatically from a point on high.  This was all a re-enactment of the days when at 1pm every day the cannon fired, the ball dropped, and all the ships in the harbour knew to calibrate their chronometers.

Now wasn't that exciting?

Hearts beating with thrills and ears ringing with cannon fire, we went back to the round house which we shared with a multitude of excited schoolchildren who quite destroyed any semblance of sombre historic appreciation.  

The Round House was a prison for barely 30 years before WA gained control of the convict lock-up, turned it into the state penitentary, and moved all the round house folks over there.  It continued as a police lock-up, had a period as a residence for the Chief Constable, came dangerously close to demoliton, and is now a museum operated by the City of Fremantle. 

We looked at the cells, watched schoolchildren drop things into the central well, listened to schoolchildren ding-dong the bell, and learned about 15-year-old John Gavin who had the honour of being the first person hanged at the round house for murdering his employer's son.  That thought sobered the school chldren for a minute or two, some of them being not much younger than the unlucky John was when he met his fate.

Back in the final cell it was now the 19th of November and DB Shaw had had enough.  "I was never so sick of a place in all my life," he stormed.  "May the curse of Christ rest on Fremantle and every son of a bitch in it.  God damn them all."  He was, of course, still an obedient servant but could not resist a PS: "Any man who would come or send a ship a second time is a damned ass."

And there history fell silent, leaving us with many unanswered questions about the fate of DB Shaw.  Did he remain employed, being an obedient servant despite his surly imprecations against his lot?  Did he soften to Fremantle or sail back to New York and never return?  Could he not have at least written a letter to let us know?

Looks alright to me.

Outside the Round House a cruise ship had docked and the streets were awash with cruisers looking for things to see or do and places to spend their money.  A couple posed for wedding photos outside our flat (goodness knows why!), and flocks of young women dressed in pink and red set out to celebrate a hen's night.

If only DB Shaw could see Fremantle now.

He could have hung out at the Bathers Beachhouse when he got stressed.

Oh all right: just a couple of doors to finish off.  I like doors.

Colourful doors on the artist's collective in the old whaling station.