Our Adventures in Queensland.
by Mrs C.A. Nott.
ISBN 978-0-85905-940-4, A4, 12 pages, illustrated, 70 grams, $22.00*
Murder and suicide in 1897 in north Queensland, with depredations of the savages upon a new station.
Peter McQuade, the Hayward family, and the Cookernup-Harvey timber industry.
Charlie Hayward.
ISBN 978-1-875778-11-9, A5, 6 pages, $10.00*
Sand and Sun. Two gold-hunting expeditions with camels in the dry lands of Central Australia.
Michael Terry.
ISBN 978-0-85905-996-1, 294 pages, 160 x 240, illustrated, French flap cover, indexed, 680 grams, $70.00.
Michael Terry led many expeditions into Central Australia in the 1920s and 1930s. His companions were the best bushmen of their time. His books have become rare and expensive. This is the second volume we have reprinted of his famous desert travels.
Scales of the Serpent. Kimberley Pearlshell in Aboriginal Australia.
by Kim Akerman.
ISBN 978-0-85905-987-9, (New, 2023), A4, Fully colour illustrated, french flap soft cover, section sewn, 190 pages, 750 grams, $110.00* Postage Australia wide is $14.50 for a single copy.
A magnificent volume presenting a detailed study of the Aboriginal use of pearl shell in both the traditional and contemporary worlds. This is already a classic. The jaded and faux art of the desert drawings is already rolling over with the freshness and strictly limited availability of pearl shell art.
To obtain the trade price, and hence for resale, there is a minimum order of 3 books. If a single copy is purchased then there is no trade discount. This does not apply to our regular trade customers. Postage will be advised on ordering. Do not pay until you receive our invoice.
The Sands of Time. Austin, Nuffield, BMC Leyland in regional Western Australia.
By Gary Mentiplay.
ISBN 978-1-875778-27-0, (New, 2024), A4, 298 pages, illustrated- B&W & colour, indexed, 1.3kg. $70.00. No trade discount. Small run.
This book is an in-depth account of the Western Australian Regional motor dealers and garages that held the agencies for the Austin Motor Company (Australia); and also the garages that represented the marques of Morris, Wolseley, Riley, MG, Morris-Commercial, Nuffield Tractors.
The British Motor Corporation was formed by the merger of Austin and Morris (Nuffield) in 1953 in Britain, and their combined interests in Australia were merged and reorganized. The two separate national dealer networks of Austin and Nuffield remained separate until a National Dealer Rationalisation commenced in 1959 and continued in some states until1963. Up until then, there were generally two separate dealers in some suburbs and country towns, one for Austin and one for Nuffield.
This changed to one local BMC dealer selling the full BMC range of vehicles (Austin, Morris, Wolseley, MG). Which meant of course in most locations there was now only one dealer, not two (there were exceptions however). In Australia, this meant the end of "badge-engineering" with the smaller models being labelled as Morris, and the larger models badged as Austin. This only occurred in Australia - the British and New Zealand dealer networks were maintained as separate entities (Austin / Morris) for a long number of years after 1963.
The book features the dealers in their regional areas - this is a major focus of "The Sands of Time." There are 28 personal accounts from dealers ranging from Busselton to Kalgoorlie, with a history on dealers from earlier times. There is also a comprehensive account on the annual numbers of Austin and Morris dealers in WA from 1908 to 1980.
Owners and enthusiasts of Austin, Morris, Wolseley, BMC and Leyland vehicles should have a copy of "The Sands of Time" in their home library.
Tanami Tom Laurie’s Early Murchison Experiences.
James Thompson.
ISBN 978-1-875778-12-6, A5, 5 pages, $10.00*
The Tanami Goldrush, the Laurie brothers, fellow prospectors, and the Toll of the Bush.
Peter J. Bridge.
ISBN 978-0-85905-989-3, (New, 2023), A4, 148 pages, illustrated, indexed, 400 grams, $40.00*
The great NT desert rush of around 1910 which led to the loss of many lives from thirst, starvation, accident, and attacks from the savages. Lost stories and lost lives for gold ill spent.
On the road to Tanami,
Tramp the men who do – or die;
Pioneers, the land they spy
‘Neath a leaden load o’ Care.
Ah! The heartaches Stouthearts know
Scrapin’ for the golden show!
On the road to Tanami.
Those who followed.
Thomas Clarence Andrews.
ISBN 978-1-875778-08-9, A4, 101 pages. 300 grams, $30.00*
Andrews spent many years on the Nullarbor and knew its secrets well. He writes of the native tribes, strange minerals, and the early coastal shipping. Shipwrecks, sandalwood, sealing and sailing the south coast are detailed and long stays on otherwise deserted islands of the Archipelago. The settlers of the area are described as he knew them well. A keen observer of natural history he was the guide to the 1950 Recherche Archipelago expedition described in the Hesperian book, Archipelago of the Recherche Expedition.
Tietkins 1889 Expedition through the Arrente, Luritja, Pintupi and Pitjantajara lands.
Lesley Brooker.
85 pages, A4, Heavily illustrated inc colour, indexed, 250 grams, $40.00*
The final volume in Lesley’s “Explorers Routes Revisited” series that have examined the results, plants, animals and people in the new old lands that the explorers found. All Lesley’s books broke new ground on the results of those early explorers that she studied.
To the Klondyke!
Western Australians on the Yukon-Klondyke 1897-1903.
Peter J. Bridge.
ISBN 978-1-857778-10-2, A4, 153 pages, illustrated, 450 grams, $40.00*
Despite the riches around them Australians rushed to the Klondyke wastes. Few found payable gold. It was primarily just another Yankee rort aggravated by Canadian obtuseness which led to many deaths and disappointments. Perhaps the only successful operators were the transporters, Eskimo Nell’s chain of whorehouses (they were at least hot spots), and the Canadian government extorters.
Too Far Out. An administrative history of the Ngaanyatjarra homelands.
Max Angus.
ISBN 978-0-85905-992-3, (new, 2023), 160 x 240, 295 pages, well illustrated, indexed, 700 grams, $66.00*
The Explorers’ Diaries Project has now commenced work on the Central Desert. This book is a good introduction to the history of that area.
For a century following the gruelling expeditions of the first European explorers through the remote homelands of the Ngaanyatjarra people in Western Australia, successive governments concluded that the arid region was ‘beyond the limits of civilisation’. They adopted a policy of ‘non-interference’ — a euphemism for official neglect. Allocated puny budgets, administrators were without the means of providing basic human services to the Ngaanyatjarra people.
In 1934, to fill the gap, a handful of evangelical Christian missionaries arrived to build a depot near the Warburton Ranges. Conditions were primitive and support was limited. Their main goal was to lay the foundations for a Ngaanyatjarra Christian church.
The situation changed radically in the 1970s after the mission station closed and the Commonwealth government launched its policy of Aboriginal self-determination. It tried to make up for lost time but imposed an unrealistic timetable to right past wrongs, misjudging the willingness and capacity of the desert people to manage their own communities according to unfathomable administrative precepts.
This original work, based on the history of one place over many decades, looks closely at how officials of state and Commonwealth governments engaged with the people living on the Ngaanyatjarra homelands. The account avoids simplistic, narrow explanations and valuations of what was a complex struggle every step of the way.
It is deeply ironic that in the 1990s, when there were grounds for optimism in the Ngaanyatjarra communities, governments began to dismantle the administrative apparatus on which the progress was at last being built.
Max Angus is an Emeritus Professor of Education at Edith Cowan University and a former state public servant.
* In a recent email send out we listed the price incorrectly. Our apologies.
Untold Miles. Three gold-hunting expeditions amongst the picturesque borderland ranges of Central Australia.
by Michael Terry.
ISBN 978-0-85905-995-4, (2023R, 1932), 316 pages, 240 x 160, french flap soft cover, illustrated, maps, indexed, 720 grams, $75.00*
Long out of print. The great 1930s expeditions into the Central Australian wilds. Terry led many expeditions with camels and early desert vehicles and recorded the land and the lives, black and white, of the inhabitants. His works are classics of the bush.
Western Australian Ghost Mining towns, Business & Residence Areas, and Mining Camps.
Ian Murray OAM.
ISBN 978-0-85905-827-8, (New, 2023), A4, french flaps, 427 pages, 270+ maps, 1.2kg, $110.00*
This volume is recommended to be used in conjunction with the two volume West Australian Gold Towns and Settlements, published in 2011, as many of the maps are applicable to both titles.
Wicked Wyndham, and other warbles. The Kimberley port-towns as they were.
ISBN 978-1-875778-28-7, (New, 2024), A4, 24 pages, 100 grams, $22.00*
Verse and worse on Broome, Derby, Wyndham.
A Young Pioneer of Nannine.
by Arthur Dunstan.
ISBN 978-0-85905-976-3, A4, 13 pages, illustrated, indexed, 130 grams, $22.00*
Arthur Dunstan arrived in Nannine as a teenager from Ballarat in 1895. He penned his reminiscences in 1948 at the age of 72. His daughter hoped that the Geraldton HS would publish them. Stan Gratte handed them to Hesperian for publication.
Arthur played football for Ballarat and Fitzroy. Later he was with East Fremantle. At Ravensthorpe he was the manager of the Cattlin Mine.
All Hesperian Press books are prepared, printed and published in Perth.
We do not subscribe to printing overseas. Localisation, not globalisation.
We believe that one must support the nation that breeds you and feeds you, both physically and spiritually.
Exporting our jobs is like exporting our raw minerals, it only benefits parasites.
The 2023 Premiers Book Awards short list is out. It would be better termed a shit list.
Recently we asked the ministerial maggot for consideration of a grant from the Arts Department for a large and important book on the use of pearl shell by Aboriginals. A month later came the short reply that they do not consider non-fiction books. (We expected & knew this but having it on record is useful…).
Interestingly they are so addled that they failed to see that this book could have fitted their Aboriginal cultural promotions. But knife, nose, face.
In their desperation to impose their Wokeshevic communist agenda, when the local subsidised presses failed to produce anything worth boasting about, they cut out any consideration of non-fiction books in case some literate judge with an independent streak decided that a Hesperian book might be considered.
The poor showing made them open the WA ‘awards’ – propaganda bribes – to t’othersiders.
Even that has failed to produce anything worthwhile. The lists plainly show the cultural bankruptcy of the left loonies in the West, and elsewhere.
Meanwhile…. Back in the Land of Light the presses at Hesperian are churning out high quality cultural and historical works as fast as our small and dedicated team and authors can research, write, and print (and pay for).
Readers and patriots. You have supported Hesperian for many decades. We could not have kept going without you. We are totally on the outer for state and federal grants as we will not produce porn of any stripe. But we have survived and shortly our thousandth book will be out.
Now just imagine if we had a true Australian leadership with the traitor class permanently rotting in one of their high security ‘covid’ camps that they built for us. What wonderful things could be done. It is not the money but the spirit. But sadly our Western Christian Civilisation, based on Truth and Beauty, has been subverted by the imported termites, and we are well on the way to a bolshevic dictatorship decaying in the corruption that only such alien haters could devise.
Just look at the features of the unlovely and you will know who are the perpetrators and their minions.
And remember their revolutionary rhetoric.
“The issue is never the issue.
The issue is always the Revolution.”
And my axiom, “the more bullshit there is, the more it is bullshit.”
Bullshit will rot your socks and you can’t enter the house with it on your shoes.
Get rid of it.
Editorial and Proofreading Services for Real Australian Writers of Non-Fiction
Assistance with preparing your writing for publication. Services include editing, indexing and proofreading. No job too modest or too academic.
The Australian Government Publishing Service standard used for normal editing work.
Qualifications and experience: PhD, BA Hons (Geography). Over 16 years as a proof reader and editor with the Western Australian Explorers' Diaries Project.
Marion Hercock
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0404 036 109
WAM BAM.
April 2022
Visiting the new WA Museum in October last, I was surprised by the flurry of flunkys cockroaching around.
The building is of that brutalist design which is the mark of many recent vomitous buildings in Western Australia and bears the same relationship to spiritually uplifting architecture as does sodomite fancy to heterosexual love.
The exhibits, without rational planning, are higgledy piggledy, or more precisely like a pig sty of dead cultural leftovers without any connectivity for anyone whose interest rises above the evanescent pages of twatter and faecesbook.
Since a fleeting visit some months ago the minerals exhibit has had a partial relabelling, so someone must have finally realised that 'pickabox' is not very educational and utterly irrational. There is an immense distance to go from the current choose a colour/shape and find out what it is, to a display that is both mentally stimulating and aesthetically attractive. Just like in the gallery of irrelevancies juxtaposed in an insoluble snakes and ladders puzzle the part time conceptualists and full time sodomites have no idea who or what is on the other side of the glory hole.
One notes that, appropriately, the Hoax of the Twentieth Century gets several windows of its own among the all-pervading stench of local tribalism. The glorification of 50,000 years of devolution to give social misfits and ring-ins an antipodean sense of 'we wuz kangs' has little attraction for the rest of us.
We had all hoped that the new WAM might be a priceless ornament to both our history and culture. Few realised that underneath the government hype the core was as rotten as it could ever be.
Just as the destructive rampage of the 'Dr' D&C through the National Museum and other once high cultural centres ended in tears, of rage, this abomination will go the same way. In the meantime the potential intellectual growth and enjoyment of thousands of children will be thwarted. Hopefully some of those will wake from the wokes imposed upon them and take a sword and noose to the fleeing destructionists.
The Museum had/has immense collections of interest which have been secreted away. Or have they been destroyed as politically unsuitable, like the hundreds of thousands of rare books that once adorned the State Library? The mineral displays are ridiculous for a state which owes its wealth to its mineral resources. Those displays of ~70 years ago educated and lifted me to greater things. What has happened to the world class antique arms collections? What a drawcard they would be. I covered some of these problems in The Ontology of Book Burning.
We need answers to these questions. We need a stocktake to discover where the collections have gone and a public enquiry into the burying and stealing of our patrimony. Could the WAM survive a stocktake by independent auditors? In preparation they have been rewriting the catalogues via digitisation so that all will look clean.
Life is not long enough to waste more than a quick spin to receive an unwanted visual emetic that is the WAM displays. This is cultural pornography and as it targets children, it is actually culturally paedophilic to its core. I give the internal 'structure' about 12 months before its collapse, as citizens awake to the waste of hard earned dollars and the poison that it unleashes on the defenceless schoolchildren that are herded through this Molochian horror, on the way to the immolation of their capacity to think and derive knowledge useful to their future.
The current government of culturally ignorant parvenus will bitterly regret allowing the pretentious scum of the new weaponised pseudo-social 'sciences' to control the agenda and waste near billions of the citizen's assets in their sick abusive propaganda exercise. Generosity (with the taxpayers $) towards those southland gypsies, who like their relations, have no interest in principles, only the principal; and it never stops.
I delayed publishing this critique while I corresponded with the Museum Director, or more correctly, the CEO. Responsible Directors with appropriate training in science and administration have not been seen in the WAM for many years.
Many of our readers have queried as to why our books are not on sale in the WAM toyshop as they were in the earlier State Library Bookshop. Possibly under the rubric of saving the shekels for the building programme, all our books were removed from all WA Museum outlets in WA. That in Kalgoorlie had once flourished. A long and somewhat acrimonious tit for tat led nowhere. The intensity of pissy fits in the WAM indicate that there is more than mere economics to our boycott and that a psychosexual imbalance corrodes their world view. It appears that somewhere in that cannibal food chain is a cabal of creatures whose company I would like to both avoid, but see, at a distance, impaled on a stake. That would satisfy forever their anal instincts.
Recently we published a book by an ex WAM staff member. He was told that if the book had been published by anyone other than Hesperian they would have stocked it. When the CEO was informed of this he 'lost his cool.' He objects to my use of the term 'boycott', but he just smells it differently. Attempts to get to the real reasons behind the boycott have not succeeded. Perhaps my earlier writings have impacted on the sorry set of vicious and vocal degenerates that seem to emerge everywhere lately. Suffice to say, again, that something is very rotten in the WA Museum and its parent body, the Arts Department.
The government agenda is that of a flowering of the 'long march through the institutions' and placing the wokes and wackos into positions of power which cannot be removed except by extensive cauterisation. This sickness of Mc$hit has corrupted the entire Western world and the smell of burning flesh in the chastisements to come will be all pervading.
The following essay, creative writing, but not fantasy, reveals the sickness and suggests a cause. Germs rarely affect a healthy organism. With un-healthy there is only death, and that is incurable.
A Dead Man's Land on the Highway of Death.
By Peter the Painter.
September 2021.
The cultural and architectural chimera that is the new WA Museum – Boola Bardip – Place of Lies – is a place cursed for both whites and blacks.
Built on a hill overshadowing the city, on top of the old Perth Gaol and its gallows where dozens of men, and women, were executed between 1851 and 1887, it is also where some of the aboriginal dead were dumped instead of being carted to the East Perth Cemetery.
Cursed now for the white man as it is a direct cultural attack on those who built the nation.
Cursed twice as it is the place of death and non-sacralised burial of ancient bulya men.
Thrice cursed as a haunting place for the teratophiliac degenerates who planned, designed and built such an 'abomination of desolation.'
I forecast, or is it a prediction, that it will be devoid of patrons by the end of the year, 2022. Once the Old Museum invigorated by multiple visits. Now one visit is enough the last a lifetime, of regret, at having wasted a precious hour.
Our dictatorial governments of ignorant upstarts think that $ and diktats alone can run a nation.
But they have destroyed the cohesiveness of our culture, throwing us all to the dingos on the death path.
When bones were found during the excavations for the foundations they were quickly and quietly spirited away, never to be seen or discussed again.
When, in 2021, answers were demanded from both the state pathologist and the coroner, the researcher was told that it was none of his business.
This, protecting an institution which has secreted the skull of Pigeon, a vicious cannibal killer who was bulleted in 1897. A cult heroicising this foul creature has infested the lower levels of the anthropology and land rights bowel movements. It is identical to that of Yagan, another killer & cannibal who met his bullet long ago.
The cover up is on – the bones were human and aboriginal.
The Museum, despite all the crowing and promotions, is built on the Bones of Dead Men.
My ancestors, both white and black, would look with distaste upon the thrice cursed hill of death, our colonial Golgotha.
My white convict ancestors would have known some of those whites hung to death there.
My black ancestress was related by blood to natives hung on the bloody gallows.
The gallows on the hill overlooked the city centre, where is the omphalos of our city, directly down to the river, along a highway of death, our own El Camino de la Muerte (Don Quixote).
All traditional cultures have a knowledge of spirituality, of spirits good and bad, and despite the trappings of modernity they are still there, rumbling away beneath the surface like the fires of dormant volcanoes.
We can only measure the baleful aspects of these influences as a whole, individually they can be dismissed, but the effects of accumulation, never.
The Chinese call their understanding of this, feng shui. Paradoxically we are more familiar with this concept than we are of the almost lost divinatory arts of our own Celtic ancestors and that of the little studied aboriginal boolya and kaidatcha men.
These emanations curse the activities and well-being of all who venture to live or work where they are in force.
The death spirits flow directly downhill along Beaufort and Barrack Streets where they are bottled up in that canyon of death and ricochet among the buildings down to Barrack Square on the river.
They also flow westwards along James and Francis Street to encompass the double-hexagoned Art Gallery of poisonous 'degenerate art' and the State Library, which specialises in burning books, and then to the coven of brothels, opium dens, gambling and clip joints that made up Northbridge. Now a scene of tribal feuding and maiming. Yagan Square, another nomenclatural fetish, has collapsed as a harbinger of all associated with the imposition of cannibal culture. Right among this was the shop of the Chinese merchant whose daughter was horribly murdered in 1926 and dumped in the river. Northbridge has always been a hell-hole of vice and death. Nothing really changes, just that we do not see the hidden history or sense the planned puerility of a sick society.
Directly opposite the Old Gaol/Museum is a 'glory hole' of the denizens of Sodom and all that entails. Several years ago the Museum accepted, with some alacrity, as a 'valuable cultural object', an old filth stained toilet door. It had a hole at a 'convenient height' through which deviants could entertain each other anonymously. When the Museum opened they positioned an isolated solitary door, with a large hole in the middle, in the centre of the 5 metre wide Beaufort Street entrance, conveniently located directly opposite the glory hole, as a hidden sign of community between the two cesspools. The connection of degeneracy and the Museum is marked. Just a few years ago the pink and green neon signs on the Beaufort street wall openly promoted such. Given the intense direct relationship of faggotism with paedophilia it would be most unwise for parents to let their children freely wander around the Museum buildings and grounds.
Next there was the Canterbury Court carpark, an architectural eyesore of rotting concrete, now demolished and replaced with the equally financially disastrous Northbridge Centre collapsed into another car park. These are opposite the old Police Courts and cells where generations of unfortunates were initiated into the realities of the system before final incarceration at Fremantle Gaol or Rottnest.
Over the rail bridge on the east is the proto-'Godzilla' of Western Power. In Barrack Street, near the corner, is the hotel destroyed by the local mafia, now with a rebuilt facade disguising that cultural crime.
Next the site on the SW corner of Murray street of the old State Taxation bank that was robbed of £11,000 in about 1962, by a rising star of political and underworld crime, Ray O'Connor, best friend of 'Daphne' Court, gunman and military intelligence operator of the nearby Beehive Tearooms, and later brothel operator, disgraced former Premier of WA, and a suspect in the murder of fellow whoremongerer Shirley Finn.
All along here seedy untenanted shops exist in an economic shadow with little of the wealth of the lateral byways sticking to them. Such places, abandoned by the locals, become the habitat of dozens of culturally alien eating places, existing only by selling to each other.
On the next corner is the convict built Town Hall, now merely a remnant figurehead of our cohesiveness, almost abandoned. No life exists there. Opposite, the underground Alhambra Bar, remembered only for the unfortunate death on the stairs of one of our foremost song men, the poet 'Crosscut' Wilson.
Next the site of the old R & I bank, creator of the closest got by this state to economic sovereignty, killed off by a creature of Canberra operating for alien financial interests.
Outside this a bronze plaque marks the spot where the city was proclaimed by the ritual execution of a gum tree, the harbinger of the destruction to follow.
Then the old Treasury, now whored out at high prices to international interests. On this corner is the hidden & unrecognized omphalous of the City.
Directly over the Terrace stands a bronze statue of Alexander Forrest, a smart financial operator, and if one carefully examines the gun over his shoulder the metaphysical notches indicate the number of natives shot on his expeditions.
The highway then encompasses the Perth City Council offices, headquarters of our own home grown mafia and destroyers of life in the city. Also once, and possibly now, the Pentagon of the South, operating the North West Cape electronic antennas controlling the nuclear submarines patrolling the oceans with atomic death. Hidden in the nearby jungle is the Supreme Court where for many life was destroyed by costumed cabalists. Opposite, the great greenness has been replaced by the sterile establishment of the black castles of Elizabeth Quay, where few dare to traverse their courts.
The Bell Tower, a southern neo-Gothic edifice, with reflections of Gaudi, whose great bells are silenced by the overwhelming encroachment, now appears as a sad and lonely monument, like a long meaningless menhir of old Europe.
The end of the Canyon is the development of Barrack Square, fingering into the river, where life is one disaster after another for the hoodwinked tenants.
Here the spirits are finally thwarted from their attempts to escape down river to fly to their final resting place of Kurannup, and so echo back, shattering any possible peace and stability on the Highway of Death.
Museums Make an Exhibition of Themselves - Quadrant Online.
https://quadrant.org.au/opinion/education/2024/02/museums-make-an-exhibition-of-themselves/