In all of my research on these pages,  I have determinedly avoided being distracted by other showmen, jugglers, circus performers, spiritualists and side-show performers of the most fascinating and exotic kind. Though, on  occasion, a ventriloquist or ballooning pioneer has been documented, it has always been when they had magic as a second string to their bows.  This site remains primarily focused on magicians, and particularly on the very earliest performers to grace Australia’s shores.

So it takes a very special character to drag my attention from magicians into the world of snake-handling, tomahawk throwing and sideshow mythology. In late 2017 I came across a number of photographs (1) of a seeming “Wild Man of Queensland”, posing in a kangaroo-skin loincloth over a river;  a shaggy headed individual covered in writhing snakes, or standing by a board embedded with sharp tomahawks and knives, two pistols strapped to his waist. The brief news articles attached to the photos indicated that this astounding personality was named “Tomahawk Joe” and that he had been lost in the wilds of Queensland for many years before emerging to live back in society.

Australians love a non-conformist.  From the supposed romance of the Swagman’s life in ‘Waltzing Matilda’, to the anti-authoritarian rebelliousness of the ANZAC soldier, through to the fascination of the entire world with the larrikin character of the fictionalised “Crocodile Dundee” in  the Paul Hogan movies (2) the self-reliant man who goes his own way is a staple of Australian folklore – reflected in this tale of a man who, although his life and background story was vastly exaggerated, was nonetheless a unique, larger-than-life, knockabout Australian of the Dundee ilk.

Magicians, by and large, have always exaggerated their feats, the importance of their audiences, and the drama and glamour of their lives. Publicity stories are expanded or often created from whole cloth – and since deception is the magician’s stock-in-trade, a little harmless legend-making is seen as a valid way to enhance their prestige. The incredible growth of the legend of Harry Houdini, now a figure of semi-supernatural stature, is the perfect culmination of this kind of ‘humbug’. Phineas Taylor Barnum made a specialty of the practice. Pseudo-psychic Uri Geller built a career upon it.

Tomahawk Joe’s life and legend is a case study in how an ordinary but eccentric young man gradually became immersed in a mythology which grew larger and lasted until his death. It shows how the news press over many years accepted and repeated the stories they were fed, either through sheer laziness or, more likely, because a good story is always more important than the truth.

This outline of his life is not an attempt to destroy a reputation. Tomahawk Joe, even stripped of the myths, was an incredibly quirky and unique individual. His life deserves the fullest documentation and celebration as a true Australian icon.

After a time the man became more friendly and told that he had been living a wild bush life for five or six years, avoiding the company of all white men, though some black boundary riders knew of his existence. He had supposedly tramped from South Australia after the Great War started, and did not know that it was over. He lived on wild animals that he caught, and had a rough bark shelter but no blankets. “Tomahawk Joe”, as the men apparently dubbed him, was persuaded to accompany them to Charleville where he remained for a number of weeks.

The man was named as ‘Joe Champion’, a slim middle aged man with a brown tanned face, hands and arms, who had been working for about four years on Listowel Downs station, 80km south of Blackall – a sizeable property of 27,000 hectares which in recent years has been passed in at $12.5m at auction. “The wild man walks the streets without hat or boots on, and strikes matches from the sole of his feet …. his interviews are decidedly interesting as he has crossed the continent of America and visited various European centres.”

Even allowing for the questionable mention of his overseas travel, the story here is mild and believable, and as will be seen, the name “Joe” is more accurate than the name under which he would live for the remainder of his life, “Kazan Champion”.

Perhaps the following Letter to the Editor sums up the real Tomahawk Joe’s philosophies most clearly, before he set off down the path of circuses, showmen and society.  By the quality of his writing he was clearly a man of some education, either from childhood or self-teaching.

Wild Man Wants Only Freedom - No Time For Philistines

"After my nine week’s sojourn in this little burg of Charleville I wish to thank all my kind friends for the hospitality and friendship they have shown me. I have made many friends, but there are nevertheless a great many men who hold an indifferent friendship towards me, and yet a few others who are particularly hostile. During my stay I have been a keen observer of many things, namely, types of individuality, modern tastes in dress, ‘et hoc genus omne’. [ and that sort of thing] It may be my simplicity that has enabled me to note the peculiarities, good and bad, of the Charlevillians. If my rustic simplicity is at fault, I hope it may be forgiven me, for to err is human and to forgive divine. And in extenuation it may be pleaded that we cannot change our nature, to do that we would have to be born again. Appearance is different, for it is mostly camouflage. To change one’s appearance is but a matter of minutes –

But, first let me correct an impression that seems public. Some are wont to compare myself with Chidley (4). Friends, those of you who are of the opinion that I am an apostle of Chidley’s are labouring under a delusion. For the ten thousandth time I say that my views and those of Chidley are in some respects entirely opposite to each other. Chidley made every possible effort to convince people that the simple life was the one and only life to lead, and he hoped it would become universal. He published a book, “The Answer”, lectured on the subject, and at most wore that very useful feminine garment, a pinafore. I myself sincerely hope you have not led yourselves to believe that I am trying to demonstrate that the simple life is the thing. My only wish is that I be left alone, be left to lead my own life in my own way. I prefer to go barefooted because it suits me to do so. Antaeus was invincible as long as he could keep down to mother earth, and was only vanquished when Hercules divorced him from his native element. I would rather be a dog and bay the moon than don some of the hideous but fashionable footwear in vogue, or suffer the discomfort of an ill-fitting pair of boots that would be an everlasting torture in my mind and body. Besides, by my abstinence the demand for shoes is kept down and my critics are thereby enabled to make a cut in the high cost of living. A penny saved is a penny gained.

Then as regards clothing, I have determined that Dame Fashion shall not dictate to me. A flannel shirt and an ordinary pair of stockman’s trousers suffice for my needs. The subject that tickles my sense of humour most is a man with a pair of legs resembling tallow candles wearing a pair of skin tight trousers (mind the step, please). I often wonder what effort he puts forth to pull them on, or whether they are sewn on in that position. The waist is generally well up to the armpits, and the bottoms end well above the tops of his boots, so that the horribly inartistic sham-silk socks can be visible to the female of the species. Then you see, in the early dusk, Him and Her walking along, not arm in arm, like a lady and gentleman, but with their elbows touching, or worse still, with their arms around each other. No wonder one asks: “Can such things be, or is visitors about?” But to return to our [subject] , I often wonder what comfort a lady obtains by cramming a No.six  foot into a No. three shoe. Friends, I cater for the comfort of my mind and body. I say: Live your own life in your own way and give others the same liberty. Just one word in regard to the mode of dress of the gentler sex. I have particularly noticed that much is being dispensed with. The modern blouse invariably consists of a couple of strips of fabric a few inches wide and a bunch of ribbon or flowers – as for skirts (Oh, laws) ‘Nuf said. – The daughters of Eve are going right back to the primitive costume that was the fashion after the expulsion from Eden. But I must not criticise, they love much, and many: and after all, the world would be a poor place without them.

My survey of Charleville would not be complete if I did not briefly notice the Philistines. These folk differ considerably from those of the same genus elsewhere. One of your correspondents last week spoke of Podsnap, but that does not exactly convey my idea of a local Philistine. I conceive him to be a blend of Squeers, Rip van Winkle and Jeams de la Pluehe. Often he holds a position to which his education does not entitle him, and his lack of innate refinement leads to blazing indiscretions. He cannot appreciate, for instance, the attitude of one who is frankly indifferent about personal adornment, but who, nevertheless, is devoted to the higher intellectual interests. “Why don’t you cut your hair and wear boots?” asked one of the species of me one day. Could anyone be more barbarous of less refined? Was there ever a more unromantic Delilah? The tone was affected and patronising, but back of it was the unpedigreed vulgarity of all the ages. I would not exchange my unchartered freedom for his dismal and inglorious round of duties; but I could not tell him so. He could not see “sweetness and light” in the unconventional, and I move on, temporarily sadden by the thought that he was one of so many.

And now I must say “Vale”. The train waits; I am off to Toowoomba but carry with me pleasant recollections and the hope of seeing you again."

Finally, in reviewing the more clear-sighted articles about Tomahawk Joe, we have an article from the Australian Worker newspaper, November 18, 1925. Probably the least romanticised of all the stories written about Joe,  it was penned by Edward Sylvester Sorenson (6), a writer of whom his obituary (1939) said, “not even Henry Lawson or Steele Rudd had a more varied experience of bush-life than Sorenson … the qualities that endeared him to Australian editors were his vast and detailed knowledge of bush lore, and of outback people and places, his keen sense of observation, and the geniality of his writings.”:-

Joe was not exactly looking for beautiful surroundings, but a field remote, that would hide and feed him. Scores of men had got lost in the bush and perished. Joe had no fear. He was going purposely to lose himself, where none would hear of him, and he would hear from none. Joe’s one regret was that such places were getting scarce, that the world was growing too narrow to go wild in without annoying interruptions.

According to modern civilised ideas he was a crank; but in his opinion those who worked all their lives for other people were the cranks. In his younger days he was one of them. He got paid for his work, with a portion of his own earnings, as he calculated; but he had to buy the means of subsistence with the pay, and never got ahead of his current needs.

When he broke away from wage slavery he did not go bush straight away, but went prospecting; and probably no prospector ever set out with a scantier outfit. He took only the tools necessary for surface mining, a long-bladed knife, and just the clothes he stood in. For food he relied on the natural resources of the bush. His bushcraft proved equal to all emergencies, and though he lived in a state of absolute aboriginality, he was never in want.

No doubt he intended at first to go back to the ways of other men, if he found enough gold to keep him. He tried for months, searching and delving in a thousand places, but it was only hard work added to the work of procuring food. He was a failure as a prospector, and finally wandered off with only his knife and tomahawk. He never had a camp that could be called a settled residence. A fire near water sufficed him, and though he stuck to one district there was no particular spot that he called home. He was at home anywhere in the bush where food was plentiful.

When some shelter was necessary from bad weather, and there was no cave available, he leaned a couple of sheets of bark against a log and crawled under them. A bed was not a necessary to Joe. He did not associate with the blacks, but was always alone, finding companionship among the birds and wild animals, which he regarded as his only friends.

Tomahawk Joe was not particular about his appearance. His beard and hair, which grew to nearly a yard long, were as matted as a brumby’s tail. His whereabouts were [un?]known for five or six years before he was reclaimed from the wilds. He was caught by a squatter who persuaded the wild man to go with him to Charleville. There Joe very quickly became civilised again, but he stuck to his long hair and his tomahawk.”  E. S. SORENSON

Barely a couple of months out of the bush, Tomahawk Joe (we will refer to him as TJ from here on) was reported to be appearing at the Toowoomba Royal Agricultural Show under the banner of Perry Brothers Circus and Zoo, billed as “The Wild Man of the West …. this Freak Man who secluded himself in the wilds of the West for more than four years will be on view at the show grounds.”  No evidence, fortunately, can be found that TJ was turned into a true “freak show” exhibit, which might have entailed him acting like a crazed savage or, in the worst case, tearing apart raw meat with his teeth for the amusement of the audiences. Such demeaning sideshow antics would have been beneath Joe, but were not unknown elsewhere.

Joe’s own story, in his booklet c.1925, is not greatly detailed but states, “Many squatters offered me employment on their stations, and I was almost on the point of accepting, when suddenly ‘sideshow men’ made their appearance and offered me elaborate terms if I would lecture in a show tent at the various agricultural shows in Queensland. Remembering the advice of my father in my youth, “Treat everyone as an honest man till you find him otherwise,” I accepted one offer. Thinking perhaps a few months show life would be beneficial to myself both physically, mentally and financially, and that by coming in contact with many people it would help to rout that insistent call of the wilds from my mind …

[speaking of his love for his faithful dog, Mother ] .. I write this incident for you to draw a comparison between the inhumanity of many ‘showmen’ and the fidelity of a dumb animal. Showmen making hundreds of pounds out of me did not deem it necessary even to treat me with kindness, and my old dog… was affection itself…. My interpretation is ‘Let evil be to him who evil doeth’. Satan will always claim his own. The only occasion on which I have been treated fairly, and with any kindness and consideration during the whole of my show career, was by the committee of the Warrnambool Regatta on New Year’s Day … “

This commentary is supported by an anecdote related by snake expert John Cann (7) – “….came to me through a quite old showman, Snowy Smith.  Snowy told me of a time when working at Rockhampton in the early 1920s and Tomahawk (then billed as the ‘Wild Bushman’) had failed to draw the expected crowds. When the show was over, Tomahawk’s handlers were out of pocket on a normally profitable ground, so they left the Wild Bushman behind, chained to a post at their vacated site.” No wonder Joe had issues with carnival showmen, both then and in later years.

Whether he travelled with circuses and shows for any continuous period is not known, but in March 1922 he was in Victoria at Sale, Stratford and Rosedale, this time with Barton’s Big New Circus. The period of Joe’s time in the bush was now stated to be six and a half years, and the public was invited to “come and hear this man’s story.”

With any sensational sideshow exhibit comes a need for a sensational back-story to enthral the crowds. A photograph of TJ dressed in a kangaroo-skin loin cloth, standing with spears and tomahawks on a tree branch overlooking a river, can be nothing more than a publicity shot. It appears that Joe was not reluctant to tell some tall stories of his life, and already the newspapers had reported that he was working on a book, which would have been sold as a ‘pitch book’ after his appearances.

In May 1923 the Melbourne Herald made mention of TJ, quoting his name as “Kazan Champion” and stating that he had been lost in the “Walls of China” range in the far north-west of Queensland (see notes at (5) for the likely location). Tomahawk Joe, said the Herald, “has described his stirring adventures in a little booklet, which he is selling from house to house.”

Two undated editions of “Tomahawk Joe – Lost for Six Years in the Wilds of North Queensland” are known, both likely printed around 1922-1925. One version was published by C. G. Meehan of South Melbourne, while the version from State Library of Queensland, which can be read online, was printed by Newcastle printer R. A. Derkenne, and comes from the library of Australian book collector, Rollo Hammet.  A variant cover illustration is published in John Cann’s “Historical Snakeys” (7)

  

Across sixteen pages, the booklet is made up of an introduction by author unknown, preface by Tomahawk Joe, an extract from the Charleville Times, eight pages of TJ’s “life and adventures” by himself, and a page describing TJ’s method for treating snake-bite (which was regarded as a viable technique at the time, now superseded by the use of pressure bandages.)

We will analyse all the components of the book shortly, but for the most sensational  claims, the anonymous foreword is reproduced here. These same claims are not made in the text written by Joe.

Gentleman in Disguise – From American Sheriff to Australian Black’s King

For sheer romance, accomplishment and human-interest, the life of Tomahawk Joe stands out pre-eminent among tales of the present day, and details of his remarkable career are amply authenticated and corroborated in the legal chronicles of the time.

Tomahawk Joe went with big-game hunter Seymour across Belgian Congo to Sierra Leone; was fifth man to ascend the “Mystery Mountain in the Moon”; knocked about South Africa; looked over India; joined the blood trail of the half-breed murderer, Dubosc, 1500 miles from Alberta to the Yukon; slept in Eskimo igloos in Labrador; helped shoot up San Antonio like a good sheriff will, and, coming to Australia, insisted, not many months ago, on cleaning up a Darlinghurst razor gang, collecting 54 razors from those delightful gentlemen. A tough customer is Joe!

Though it would be simple to just dismiss the stories as inventions, we will look more closely at some of them in the hope that some granules of truth might emerge. The pattern of legend-making stories looks familiar here – there are many overlapping and sometimes contradictory tales. Familiar or famous names and places are sometimes inserted to bolster credibility, though when fact-checked they do not fit. Other people or events are described which, on investigation, have no foundation. Assertions are made that the stories can be proven  (in TJ’s case, that ‘details of his remarkable career are amply authenticated and corroborated in the legal chronicles of the time’) when no such proof exists. Dates are either not mentioned, jumbled out of sequence, or may be fabricated to fit the story.

In short, to the casual reader, the tales may pass muster because the reader has neither the means to investigate further, or lacks the interest to dig deeper. The modern-day controversy around so-called ‘fake news’ depends on much the same technique – a kernel of truth thrown in amongst a bucket of slanted mistruths, will often be accepted as fact without question.

- Tomahawk Joe’s birth and childhood: The book says that TJ was born as Kazan Champion in Santa Rosa, California (U.S.A) on May 2, 1865. No evidence can be found to support this and, as will later be described, plenty of evidence to the contrary. The date of May 2 is accurate, but importantly, TJ was born in 1885 not 1865; and this is an essential part of the myth. Without that extra twenty years, there is simply no time for him to have gone through all the adventures he supposedly undertook. That means that TJ was aged 36 when he came out of the bush, not 56 if his book is believed. His weather-beaten exterior would have made it hard to visually assess his age.

- Early Life in Australia : The book says that, to avoid settling down in business in compliance with his parents’ wishes, TJ moved to Australia (Queensland) and began as a stockman on a station known as Brunette Downs, in the far Northern Territory. Other tales have him shooting buffalo and travelling as far up as Melville Island, north of Darwin, a trip to Japan and India, then back to various Queensland stations where he was a kangaroo shooter, horse breaker and drover.

Many of these statements have the possibility of being plausible. Brunette Downs is a large station in the Northern Territory, and early reports from 1921 confirm that he had been working at Listowel Downs station for several years. It is not inconceivable that he might have travelled as far up as Melville Island.  In all likelihood, his early years were indeed spent as a worker on far-flung outback stations. Joe’s own writing states that he went to Japan and India, then returned to Australia – not, as other legends would have it, to adventures in America and elsewhere.

Smith’s Weekly of Nov.16, 1935 asserts that “a kangaroo scalper named Kazan Champion led a similar (rough) life on the Warrego, in the Charleville district … in the Carnarvon ranges he led a nomad life for years, and made a huge cheque from the scalps he took in the process.”

One puzzling statement which appears numerous times is that Joe started in South Australia, then tramped into Queensland. Given that his family history (related below) is so connected with Queensland, the connection to South Australia is difficult to reconcile. TJ’s book refers to a time when he was left “practically a dying man on Tailem Bend railway station, South Australia. Had it not been for the kindness of Constable McElroy, a South Australian trooper, and his family, I should have surely passed the Great Divide.”  McElroy is confirmed to have been an SA trooper in that area, but it seems that this story comes from a time when TJ was travelling with the shows; possibly another example of him being mistreated.

- Travels around the world: The many statements that Tomahawk Joe had travelled to exotic locations around the world are so jumbled, lacking in support, and incompatible with the years available to him, that they can only be dismissed out of hand. At best, there is no evidence that he journeyed to India, Japan, Canada, Italy, the Pacific Islands, North and South America, the Congo, the Yukon, South Africa, shot lions and tigers ‘in their native jungle’, met Buffalo Bill, rode the prairies with film cowboy Hoot Gibson, climbed the Mountains of the Moon, or worked in San Antonio as a Sheriff.

- Role as a Sheriff: The most frequently repeated story was that TJ had gone (apparently after his trip to Melville Island) to San Antonio in Texas where, between the stated years of 1899-1902, he worked as a sheriff.

During this time (8) he was supposedly awarded with the “American Gold Star” for conspicuous gallantry and was invested at the White House by President McKinley, for killing or capturing three outlaws (one named Dugeusero, elsewhere spelled as De Geruso) in El Paso in 1899.

Clearly, if TJ had been born in 1885, there is no possibility that a 14-16 year old could have been in this role; the published birth date of 1865 was needed to make the story even slightly plausible.

Tomahawk Joe conspicuously wore a star badge during his public appearances (which ‘Truth’ magazine stated was a genuine El Paso Sheriff’s star), and was well-known for carrying a pistol. The photograph of him with Lone Star shows his gun belt embedded with studs spelling out “Tomahawk Joe”, a very theatrical addition.

The only other supposed recipients of an “American Gold Star” were Buffalo Bill and a Captain McDonald of the Texas Rangers – on TJ’s death the award would go to the “American National Museum.”  The report says he came to Australia in 1903 (ten years variance on his other story). He had also had a hand in the suppression of the South African (Zulu) uprisings in 1906 and 1908 and took part in the Gallipoli landing as a member of the 9th Battalion, A.I.F.  He gave his age as 76, but the paper said he looked at least 20 years younger, despite a greying cropped beard.

There are far too many outlandish claims made here, and we make just these observations:

- Role as a Mounted Police officer: In a full page article published by “Truth” magazine, December 8, 1929 (see below for full article), the picturesque tale is told of Tomahawk Joe joining the Canadian North-West mounted police, and tracking the “half breed murderer, Dubosc” 1500 miles from Alberta to the Yukon, with an exciting and violent confrontation. I can find no trace of the name Dubosc or anything similar.

- King of the Borora Tribe: “It is a historic fact”, says the book, “that he became King of the Borora tribe. Captured, he had to fight the king, and in the resulting mix-up with mullahs [sic.], Joe broke the king’s wrist and the monarch insisted on abdicating in his favour.

With a more informed view from the twenty-first century, it can be mentioned that the first peoples of Australia were not structured in a “tribal” arrangement, but in a kinship grouping of clans and language. No “King” existed in traditional aboriginal culture, though under European rule, many people perceived to be the leaders of their group would be given a brass breastplate by the authorities, designating them as Chief or “King”. (9)

The only possible match for the name ‘Borora’ is a Burarra clan – otherwise known Gidjingali, in the far North of N.T. There is no evidence that Tomahawk Joe ever spent  time in the company of aboriginal clans.

- Other Newspaper stories: Over the years, the press made various remarks that he had been shot 29 times, bitten by 600 snakes, had killed 200 men in his time, had cleaned up the razor gangs in Sydney (taking 54 razors away from owners), and met a man who “riled me” in Melbourne, so TJ sliced off his ear with his tomahawk. All useful grist to the mill for a news reporter looking to fill some space.

He was the son of Alfred John Baker (1848-1937) and Elizabeth (nee ‘Hine’, of Emu Creek, 1853-1932) who had married in 1873. There were thirteen siblings including Joseph, at least four of whom sadly died as virtual newborns. A brother, Charles Baker, carpenter and farmer of Murrumba, QLD, perpetuated the family line.

Joseph’s father, Alfred, was born in Kentish Town, England, coming to Australia in 1868 after completing his apprenticeship  in carpentry, following his own father, John. He worked in the building trade at Harrisville and Pine Mountain (QLD), managed the Ginnery at Wivenhoe, and erected fencing across some 2,000 acres of property at Bellevue Station  near Wivenhoe. Later he held the position of carpenter at Bellevue and Mt. Brisbane stations, erecting most of the buildings at Mt. Brisbane.  In 1873 he took up land at Bryden (South-East Queensland) where he carried on both his building trade and dairying. He build many local houses, the Bryden un-denominational church, and the district’s first public hall.  At the time of his death, Alfred was reported to be survived by three daughters and three sons, including Joseph who was mentioned as being in Western Queensland; a possible indication that Joseph had not been in contact with his family.tj portrait crop

So Joseph Baker would have grown up in the Bryden area, in a well-regarded family and, it would be thought, with a good education. It would not have been especially unusual for a young man of this background to have gone off working on outback stations (Brunette and Listowel Downs), learning to handle stock and horses, becoming proficient as a hunter of kangaroos and generally developing into a strong and self-reliant adult.

If we take the stated date of his departure into the “wilds of Queensland” as being around 1915, he was then thirty years old and a person of experience and capacity. At that age, we speculate, he would not be ‘running away’ from his family, but making a decision for himself to live a solitary life. In any case, by his own description, he initially set out on a four-month excursion and kangaroo hunt, before losing track of his campsite during a deluge of rain.

We are fortunate to have two photographs of the young Joseph Baker: one, a faded portrait showing the face of a hardworking country man in a wide-brimmed hat. The other is a telling image of what his life must been like; an image which might have been created from a Steele Rudd book, or from a Norman Lindsay illustration in the ‘Bulletin’ magazine. Joseph is a wiry young man with a thousand-yard gaze, holding a rifle and billy can, pipe in mouth, a full hessian sack over one shoulder and a gun holster on the other. Standing in some country backblock near a rustic shed, his trousers are rolled up revealing a pair of boots on what otherwise appear to be bare feet. He looks every bit the hardy outback roustabout.

A final comment from a descendant of the Baker family …. “Joe made a living out of extending the truth”; which is a fair remark. However, in the chapter of Tomahawk Joe’s book written by himself, his descriptions of becoming lost in the mountain ranges, desperately learning how to survive alone, becoming familiar with snakes and animals, all have a ring of unvarnished truth and should be read in full.

UPDATE AT JULY 2019: Since the publication of this tale, further details of Joseph’s early life have come to light, and are in the Addendum at the end of this story. They shed considerable new light.

     

In October of that year, Port Melbourne Council was horrified to learn that Tomahawk Joe was keeping extremely venomous brown snakes in his house at Heath Street. One councillor, living nearby, was particularly upset and, despite Joe calling his snakes “sweethearts” his objections were overruled and the reptiles ordered to be destroyed. An interesting sidenote from the Herald of October 27 said that he was living with a “wife” and three children, though this is not borne out by the evidence.

It appears that TJ had been living at this location since 1924. According to author Joy Damousi (10) he was lodging with a Mrs Annie Kirkwood, war widow of William Kirkwood, at a cost of 20 shillings per week. As the recipient of a meagre war pension, Mrs Kirkwood was placed under investigation by the C.I.B. to establish her relationship to the boarder.  “Subsequent investigations revealed that Kirkwood was living in South Dandenong with a man who goes under the name of Kazan Champion, and is also known as ‘Tomahawk Joe’. She is known, and addressed by him as “Lone Star” the snake charmer. These people were identified as side show people, following Country Shows, and it was believed that except for an occasional local person, to whom they demonstrate their prowess in snake charming, throwing tomahawks etc. no other persons visit the place.” The C.I.B. was instructed to undertake discreet inquiries for the purpose of ascertaining her conduct and mode of living in recent months.

Joe was still reported to be sporting a tousled beard, long shaggy hair and a gaunt bearing (he was very tall, at about 6’ 5”) and had set himself up as a reptile expert, exhibiting in his snake pit and giving advice on snake bites and remedies. A regular remark in commentaries is that Joe, though daunting in appearance (especially to children) was, once known, a man of gentle speech and nature, and a philosophical eccentric.

No snake handler is immune from the dangers of a sudden snake attack, and in September 1927 Joe was bitten during a demonstration at the Adelaide Showgrounds, and again in November at Geelong. At Mordialloc in December, Lone Star was also bitten on the ankle by a tiger snake. In each instance, after applying TJ’s own remedy and further hospital treatment, the pair recovered and returned to their show.

Easter 1929 saw the snake handlers at the Sydney Royal Agricultural Show alongside magician Les Levante exhibiting his “Tagalog Fire Walkers”.  ‘A snake charmer with a reputation, and knife and tomahawk thrower of extreme accuracy, he is well worth seeing’, said the Macleay Argus in April, ‘He has learnt his snake lore from India and Africa, and his demonstrations are both startling and educational, for he will give advice on the treatment of persons bitten by snakes.’ In amongst the accurate reporting, many newspapers simply extracted chunks of Joe’s book and reprinted his legends, verbatim.

In November 1929, Joe gained a deal of publicity when, following shows at the Hawkesbury, Kempsey and Dungog, he returned to Sydney to pursue one Ethel Jones, sideshow proprietress, for unpaid money amounting to  £26, allegedly unpaid from his performances in country districts. Arriving at court with a forty-five Webley revolver on his hip and a bundle of knives under his arm, and carrying two short-handled tomahawks in a small suitcase, Joe and his companion, Lone Star, were described by press with breathless excitement – “He was a picturesque character, one that might have just stepped out of the fiction of America’s wild and woolly west.  A profusion of whiskers encircled his thin, eager countenance, and his keen wide-open eyes missed none of the details of the court or the procedure in the various cases that preceded him.” Despite a spirited rebuttal from Mrs Jones, she was no match against an up-and-coming legal representative named Clive Evatt, and the court awarded Joe £4 plus another pound in costs.

TJ made the most of his time in Sydney, living in Albion Street. For the new film “Four Feathers” at the Capitol Theatre, the proprietors advertised for “the Ugliest Man in Sydney”, and because he was one of only two people to apply, the other being short and fat, Joe landed the job and travelled around the suburbs to promote the movie, cheerfully being paid as the city’s ugliest man.

As the years progressed, Tomahawk Joe seems to have continued his pattern of appearing at festivals and shows, on occasion writing to the Editor of newspapers on the subject of snakes, or the protection of Lizards under the Native Animals and Birds Protection Act. He was still noted in the newspapers on occasion, and we follow this chronology :-

1930 Feb 22 – TJ at Blacktown Show.

1930 Apr 26 – TJ at Port Macquarie with Austin & Sons Rodeo and Buckjumpers.

1931 August – Will Russell  (troupe manager) was said to be arranging suburban picture house appearances for TJ, around Newcastle. On Aug 19 he appeared at Mayfield Picture with knife and tomahawk throwing, and rope manipulations.

On Sep 5, he was again at Mayfield Pictures. On the same bill was “Roy Steel, sketch artist”.

Roy Steele was best known as Rex Sinclair, and it is from his scrapbooks that the inspiration for this research began.  I knew Rex personally in the 1980s/90s as he was a veteran magician and well-known local identity in Newcastle.

1932 – July 27 – A novelty boxing tournament was included among other bouts at Union Stadium in Newcastle between Tomahawk Joe and Pablo Dano.  Dano was a Philippines boxer and only 5’1”, against Joe’s great height, so the fight was obviously a comic matching.

Joe appears to have settled at 125a Michael Street, Jesmond around 1933, along with Annie Kirkwood. In a social history of a Bakery store in Lambton (11) he was remembered as a local identity:

“he used to make a bit of a living in those days trying to get a penny out of the kids … he always had a Carpet snake around his neck, and six shooters, and he had a whip he used to crack, and he used to do a bit of lassoing and crack cigarettes at his wife Loanstar [sic.]”

1936 – May 19 – Joe visited Sydney from Jesmond, to see Lone Star who was ill in the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital. He may have stayed for some time, living in Redfern until early 1938 when he returned to Jesmond.

Still a person of interest, Joe was filmed for two Cinesound Review newsreels from 1936 – No. 241 June 1936, and No. 265 in December 1936, held now at the Australian Film and Sound Archive.  Tomahawk Joe speaks, goes hunting, shows his prowess with knife and tomahawk, and discusses his “early years”. Though these are yet to be viewed, a preview video without sound can be seen at:

1937 – The press reported a funny story of a monkey that had escaped onto the roofs of the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital, and was free for a fortnight before being caught with a simple food trap.  TJ was one of those who joined the unsuccessful attempts at capture.

1938 – January 13 – TJ was in hospital (age quoted as 75) after his six-shooter misfired during a New Year’s Eve exhibition of gunplay at his home at Redfern.  The newspaper said  he was getting too old for tomahawk throwing and will have to concentrate on the snake charming.  In a truly newsworthy photograph, snake handler Ray Mascord was shown bringing some sample tiger snakes into the hospital for sale – but Mascord was bitten and ended up in hospital himself.

1941 – Another report indicates that Joe had returned to Jesmond after spending two years in ill health, in Sydney.

1944 – May 17 – Joe was now living in Sydney again, at 25 Tavistock Street, Auburn.  A dispute arose with  Isabel Reynolds, “a widow with whom Champion was boarding”. TJ supposed to have threatened her with his revolver and said “we will die together”.

Reynolds apparently laid the first complaint, but later denied having been threatened or being afraid. TJ was also quoted as saying “I wouldn’t do her any harm, I love her too much” which might imply a relationship.  The police apparently relieved TJ of his revolver and his appeal was unsuccessful.

1944 – Sep 8 – ‘Kazan Champion’ was appointed as an honorary ranger under the Wild Flowers and Native Plants Protection Act, 1927.

Sometime around 1948, Joe met the famous Australian country music singer and entertainer, Smoky Dawson. Relatives of the Baker family confirm that Dawson had told them, in his later years, that Tomahawk Joe had taught him how to toss a tomahawk, and internet videos exist of him showing off his skills.

The years finally took their toll. Joe had taken up work as a patrolling watchman at the Naval Dockyards, but in February 1951 we learn that he had been in Balmoral Naval hospital for six months. His age was quoted by the press as 64, and for the first time the photograph showed him with no beard, holding a tomahawk.

1953 – Tomahawk Joe signed a legal document appointing a Newell James Mann of Hunter Street, Newcastle, with rights to materials for the purpose of writing his life history – limited to two years.  Mann was the proprietor of a well-known Newcastle second hand bookshop (Mann's / Rice's Books, Hunter Street). Unfortunately it seems nothing came of this project.

Finally, on June 30, 1955, Kazan Champion a.k.a Tomahawk Joe a.k.a Joseph Baker, died of cancer.

In a letter dated July 5, 1955, his friend Isabel Reynolds wrote from Auburn:-

Tomahawk Joe is interred at Rookwood Cemetery, Sydney, under the name K. Champion, showing the title “Constable 1015, Naval Dockyard Police” and his age as 69.

With His Whiskers, ‘n His Guns, ‘n His Stars, ‘n His Scars

We had only crown pieces on us at the time, and, anyway, the Board frowns on pistol practice in our office. Perhaps a few hundred thousand Sydney folk in the last few days have goggled at Tomahawk Joe, Queensland wild-man, lanky and brown, meandering through our streets. Sleek flaneurs who idle about winter-gardens with stencilled ladies nudge each other as he passes.

And yet this strange fellow, gold-starred sheriff of Amurrica, King of the Borora tribe in the far north of Queensland, hair restorer advertisement (or he should be), snake expert, protector of the infirm (he squeezed a larrikin’s nose in Darlinghurst the other day till blood came for baiting a tipsy old man), grave philosopher and Bachelor of Science – Tomahawk Joe is one of those whimsical fellows interpolated by a jesting fate among our starched and ironed brethren to sober our vanities.

Allowing his legs to droop into coils beside his chair, “Truth’s” visitor gave a swift story of his life in the slowest of melodiously slow voices. For sheer romance, accomplishment, and interest it stands supreme among the traveller’s tales of the decade, and there is ample evidence in the legal chronicles of the time to substantiate what he says. [Author’s note: one example of a quote lifted directly from TJ’s book, without attribution or fact checking]

For six years, from February 14, 1915, Joe, whose real name is Kazan Champion, was lost in north-west Queensland. To hear the matter-of-fact recital of the Robinson Crusoe life he led, to imagine the reversion to type, as it were, of a character which forthwith set out to learn as much as possible in the shambles of Nature for endless miles around, is to hear a Fennimore Cooper character in person. But there is no strutting for effect. Champion has much too vast a contempt for convention to desire to trap a passing popularity by adopting a heroic pose. He even apologises for talking of himself. He went with big-game hunter Seymour across Belgian Congo to Sierra Leone; was fifth man to ascend the mystery Mountain of the Moon; knocked about South Africa, joined the Canadian North-west mounted police; followed the blood trail of the murderer Dubosc from Alberta to the Yukon River (1500 miles, m’dears); slept in igloos in Labrador; helped shoot up San Antonio as good sheriffs will till their cartridges give out.

A fortnight later Joe found two dead trappers shot through the heads. There was no barter with Dubosc. He wanted huskies for his sledge to escape Tomahawk hard on his trail and he killed to get his dogs. “I was short cutting him,” said Joe, “for I could guess by his trail where he was heading, but when 150 miles from Fort Reynard my sledge was burned through a mishap, and all I had in the deep snow were snow shoes and my useless huskies. I made for a big spruce belt on high ground some miles away, and reaching it I saw an old shack. The door was swinging … It had been deserted for months. I found a box of provisions. Two rusty billycans stood on the grate. I had a meal off some tinned stuff, but noticed that a strange musty smell existed. The bunk in the dimness of a corner I then found contained a man dead for over two months. I finished my meal, then went out and buried him; said the burial service over him.

Well, how much of the burial service do you know? “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and I always wish them a happy resurrection,” said Joe.

That dead trapper’s long-idle sledge Tomahawk Joe mended with new moose hide, straightening the runners, and loading it with furbished up old gear. After many months of circling for his man-killer in territory where spruce forests were home and the eerie rush of skids on snow his threnody [a wailing song] ,  Joe found himself up near the Alaskan border one day with 40 below zero.

Imagine the microscopic stridency from Joe’s lungs in the Alaskan wastes … Joe stopped suddenly, with a swift intuition that he was losing his mental balance. “The solitude is dreadful .. appalling,” he says, and his cold blue eyes distend with fascinated recollection.

“In the distance I heard the reply, and repeating the challenge I heard in a few minutes his lordship approaching. I tightened my grip on my rifle and took aim at the beast, when snap came shots from the far side of the lake. Dubosc was there … I waited a long time, and saw the queer radiance of his fire on the trees. I put on my skates, missed death in a huge ice hole, trod on one of Dubosc’s huskies, killed it with my pistol stock to keep it quiet at the precise moment that the head of the murderer peered over a snow bank. He had a scarf across one eye.

Anyway, Joe won, or he wouldn’t have been seeing Sydney. An evidence of the scrupulous fairness of Champion is given in his treatment of his prisoner. Dubosc tried often to escape. At last Joe put it to him briefly undoing his manacles; “Here’s a bowie knife, Dubosc. If you win you can go free for I’ll be dead, and if I win you come without trouble.” Dubosc measured the 7ft. of wiry law opposite him and went quietly – to his death sentence.

Some months later Joe became sheriff at El Paso, and had a few afternoon tea parties with cattle rustlers. Joe carries with him a much-worn silver sheriff’s badge and also the rarely bestowed and much prized gold star. In one riot at San Antonio he fired into a mob with his favourite revolver, photographed in these columns. It killed nine men, Joe said.

“I’ll come along tonight and fire it off for you. It sends a lick of flame 30ft into the air,” said Joe. (Unfortunately our office was shutting early that day – much before dark.)

In South America Joe produced a general serum for snakebite after doctors had given the task up. Having had 593 bites from venomous snakes in  his life, Joe says he is entitled to talk on the subject with a show of authority. (We then put our fingers into his scars).

Joe has been living in Albion Street while in Sydney. He sits reading quietly after having placed crumbs in the fireplace. Mice come gingerly out. Whizz. The bowie knife hits, pinioning one. He never misses.

For who else with a refined intelligence would so outrage conventions by breasting his way through phalanxes of us washed and ironed folk using his thicket of whisker as a flail to make a pathway.

(1) Via the estate of magician Allan Sullivan, whose appears to have obtained photos and a scrapbook from Newcastle veteran magician, Rex Sinclair (Roy Sinclair Steel)

(2) Inspiration for the character of the Paul Hogan movies, “Crocodile Dundee” is attributed to Rodney Ansell , a Northern Territory grazier and buffalo hunter. Ansell’s life and death in a police shootout is another remarkable story in Australian folklore. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rod_Ansell

(3) Sydney Mail, March 23, 1921

(4) William Chidley, Australian advocate for simplicity of dress, diet and sexual relations.

(5) In Australia, the ‘Walls of China’ are a feature within the Mungo National Park, which is located in New South Wales.  The more likely location is the “China Wall”, sandstone ranges located in the south-east Gulf region of the Northern Territory, part of Aboriginal freehold land abutting the Queensland border, 450 km north-east of Tennant Creek.

(6) http://oa.anu.edu.au/obituary/sorenson-edward-sylvester-ed-8584

(7) 'Historical Snakeys' by John Cann. Published 2014 by ECO Herpetological Publishing & Distribution, ISBN 978-1-928850-04-2, Australia 978-0-646-92192-1, chronicles the lives of Australian snake handlers and showmen.

(8) Newcastle Herald, Apr 15 1941 re American Gold Star award

(9) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aboriginal_Breastplate

(10) Book: The Labour of Loss: Mourning, Memory and Wartime Bereavement in Australia, by Joy Damousi, Cambridge University Press 1999

(11) University of Newcastle Open Foundation Course, presentation by Julie Guion, September 5, 1988 “Baker’s Bakery” based on interviews with Frank Baker Jnr.

(12) snakeartist.com featuring the work of Bill Flowers, incorporating imagery of snakes, Tasmanian Devils and other wildlife imagery, often into many works of art in a humorous fashion.