Jack’s story…
Jack Alexander Weir preferred to be called ‘Joe’.
Joe was born in Albany, Western Australia, in 1929 and “took off” to work “here and there” when he was fourteen. He took a job at Wittenoom Gorge in the mine, which burnt him out. So, he “took off” again, with “only the shorts he stood up in”.
He found work on Cockatoo island on a Yampi boat, travelling between the island and Derby, but eventually got tired of that and, in 1949, went to Darwin as a rigger on the timber jetty.
In Darwin, crocodile shooting was taking on, so he took on that and ended up in Wyndham in the Kimberley region.
Wyndham was a tiny town when Joe arrived, with only three vehicles and a taxi. For some years, it grew and prospered until the Government Meatworks in the city closed down.
Joe worked as a bulldozer driver in the wet season and returned to crocodile shooting in the dry season.
How many crocodiles they took depended on the market. In the 1950s, they were allowed to take as many saltwater crocodiles as they liked, but there weren’t many around.
Freshwater crocodiles, however, were “thick”, and they would hunt at night and process around fifty in a day.
At first, Joe took out a dugout canoe he made himself before graduating to a plywood dinghy with oars. A pushbike headlight hooked up to a six-volt battery was used to show the way.
Joe had no problems with the crocs, many around sixteen feet (4.8 meters).
“The crocs were pretty scared of human beings in those days. It was hard to sneak up to them – not like today. They sneak on you today (laughs). It’s the other way around.” (Joe, 1990)
Skins were sold through an agent in Wyndham – Hector Fuller, a skin agent for Elders Smiths. The shooter got thirty shillings an inch, but money was not easy.
After Joe left crocodile hunting, he stayed in Wyndham and bought a taxi, eventually building up to three taxis.
The meat workers liked weekend recreation, and Joe would pick them up and take them line fishing. They would fish off the river’s shore, each man with six lines and a throw net to get live bait. The fish, mainly barramundi, was put on free ice from the meatworks and sold to other workers on Mondays.
It was a pretty lucrative business for everyone, including Joe, and enjoyable too.
Even when the meatworks finished their season, Joe decided to continue fishing. He sold his taxi business, deciding he’d had enough, and began net fishing using a homemade net.
In the early days of fishing Joe would fish just in the Ord River, in the upper tidal reaches where the fish used to assemble. Then he began to feel all the rivers around Wyndham, but not too close as the fish had been caught.
In 1990 Joe was going 40 miles from Wyndham to find fish in the quantities they were in the early days. Joe also fished on sand bars and beaches.
Joe’s primary market was Kununurra, including the Overland Motor Inn, the Kununurra Hotel, and some clubs.
He would send fish to Perth at different times, hard frozen in fifteen-kilogram cartons, with Bayley’s trucking company. He also supplied the Festival Fish Supply in Roe Street, but imported barramundi from Taiwan cut him out of most of the Perth market.
He was outpriced, asking twelve dollars per kilo, compared to the nine-dollar Taiwanese barramundi.
Joe built a store in the 1960s with his wife, and they had it for several years, but when he got sick of it, he sold it and was off fishing again.
In 1990 Joe and his son Jim had a licensed fishing boat each. A 38-foot barge ideal for barramundi fishing and a standard aluminium boat used for cray fishing. Both were diesel-powered. Rather than have a crew, Joe preferred to “potter along”, do his own thing and make a bit of a profit.
“It’s a pretty hard life fishing for barramundi. It’s night work, and you must face mosquitoes, sandflies, and sometimes rough water. Many of the crews were frightened of crocodiles, and after one trip, they’d had enough. So I’ve just about decided I’ll forget about employing crews. They’re just about more trouble than they’re worth.” (Joe, 1990)
In 1990 crocodiles had become a problem and were getting worse, according to Joe. They were smaller than in the days he used to hunt them but thicker in numbers than they’d ever been.
“We’re not allowed to shoot them now; we’re not allowed to harm them in any way. I’ve been told by the Fisheries Department even if they attack us, we’re not allowed to hit them (laughs).” (Joe, 1990)
On the infrequent occasion that a crocodile with any size about him got tangled in the net without lifting gear, Joe would have to manhandle the lot – “sort of lean over the side and untangle him.”
Joe lived until he was 84 years.
Kathleen Walker with a fish for dinner, Sunday Island, W.A. 1946.
Wittenoom town and asbestos mine, Western Australia, 1957.
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