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In 1973 Harold Lane was commissioned to paint a peoples’ landscape of those who (in the words of the plaque
on the wall of the Jury Muster Room of the former Supreme Court) were ‘all seen as contributors to the growth of
the Territory’. In the centre front row of the painting is a blindfolded white woman with the scales of justice in one
hand and a sword in the other. Next to her on her left is Babe with his hands on the shoulders of a young Chinese
girl and a young Aboriginal boy. Immediately behind Babe is Harry Chan, the then Lord Mayor of Darwin.
This painting hung from 1974 until 1991 in the foyer of the old Darwin Law Courts.
Perhaps the greatest contribution that Babe made to Aboriginal advancement was the effort he put into showing
European public servants, newly arrived from the south, ways to put the Aboriginal situation into a context that
did not detract from Aboriginal achievements. He was not always successful. He had extraordinary patience.
His approach was never didactic, and he would tolerate racist arrogance to a degree that confounded many of
his friends. When he did express his displeasure about anti-Aboriginal statements his measured criticism often
escaped an unattuned companion. His wife, Nan, on the other hand, was far more direct. He was known, admired
and liked by all levels of Darwin society. ‘He was at ease in any company and gave his advice and counsel with
generosity and compassion, irrespective of race or colour’ notes the obituary published in Hansard. In the early
1960s Harry Giese, the then Director of Welfare was among those who nominated Babe as the first Aboriginal
member of the prestigious Darwin Club—he was accepted unanimously. His daughter Nancy recalls Babe enjoying
coming home from the Buffalo Lodge (RAOB) where he had to be addressed by many of his administrative seniors
as ‘Sir Basil’.
Babe was an enthusiastic Darwin Football Club supporter, loved hunting duck and geese, a fanatical angler, an
excellent cook, a great story teller and marvellous company: all of which he combined with alcohol—no Darwin
party which he attended was felt to be complete until he had sung ‘Manana’. On two occasions he lost his driver’s
licence. The second occasion typifies his attitude to his fellow humans. He had just driven a relative home and
was returning to Stretton Street when he saw blue-flashing lights so he made a detour to what he thought was an
accident in order to offer help. It was a breathalyser unit and all that he was required to do was blow into the bag.
He had friends all round Australia and much to Nan’s chagrin often lingered in the south longer than he’d
promised. On one occasion, following his retirement, he was staying with friends in Canberra. Each morning
about 11 o’clock he would hold court at the Contented Soul tavern, and over a period of six weeks hundreds of
public servants he’d worked with during their sojourn in Darwin came and paid homage, according to a former
colleague. It is uncertain whether it was Nan’s threats or a government concerned about the drop in productivity
that ultimately caused him to return.
In 1977 Babe was awarded the Queen’s Silver Jubilee Medal for his services to Aborigines. He was proud of
that recognition. Babe died on 15 August 1989 and is buried in the McMillans Road Cemetery. He had had heart
trouble for several years but this had not stopped him attending football or going fishing—finally he just wore
out.
Australian Archives, Northern Territory, CRS Fl 1951/744 ‘Australian Half-Castes Progressive Association’; S Clarke, ‘Leaders in the Fight
for Full Citizenship’, Land Rights News, July, 1989; B Cummings, Take this Child, 1990; F Fanon, The Wretched of the Earth, 1971; F Hardy,
The Unlucky Australians, 1968; T Milliken, transcript of interview with B Damaso, Northern Territory Archives Service, NTRS 226 TS185;
Northern Territory Parliamentary Record, 22 August 1989; F McCue, ‘Babe’, Northern Territory News, 20 August 1989; J McGuiness, Son of
Alyandabu, 1991; S Stanton, ‘The Australian Half-Castes Progressive Association’, Journal of Northern Territory History, 1993; J Tomlinson,
Is Band Aid Social Work Enough?, 1977, ‘Damaso’, Living North, December, 1983; J Wienman, personal communication.
JOHN TOMLINSON, Vol 3.
DANAYARRI, HOBBLES (1925–1988), Aborigine, was born near Wave Hill station, Northern Territory, about
1925 in Mudbura country. He was a barramundi before he became a person. His father speared the fish, his mother
ate some, and the spirit became the baby who grew into the man known as Hobbles Danayarri. On his right
temple he had a small mark where his father speared the fish. He grew up partly in his own country along Cattle
Creek and partly on the station. Hobbles was born into relationships with country, with other species, with other
humans, with certain song cycles and ceremony tracks, with certain Dreamings, with certain designs, with foods
and waterholes, with certain places of power. This nexus of relationships is often referred to as ‘country’. Nothing
that was to happen during the course of his life would alter these relationships, but his life would be circumscribed
by his status as a ward.
Colonising society had laid a grid of cattle stations over Hobbles’ country, and Hobbles was born into a
relationship with Wave Hill station. His status as ward was a relationship to the ‘crown’, which was mediated by
the Protector of Aborigines (later the Department of Native Affairs, and the Department of Aboriginal Affairs), by
the police, by the station manager, and by station personnel. For much of Hobbles’ life the local white people were
the active representatives of government. The state impacted on his life through legal restraints that were placed
upon him; it impacted on his mind through the necessity of learning to live within these restraints, and also upon
his body. The power of the state was manifested in the fists and boots of the stockmen; it was intensely local and
inescapable.
Hobbles first became consciously aware of the injustices his people suffered while he was still young enough
to be carried on his father’s shoulders. His father took him to where Aboriginal men and women, directed by a
white overseer, laboured by hand to construct a dam. He watched the backbreaking work, and compared the food,
clothing and hierarchical status of whites and blacks.
Throughout the decades of the 1930s, 1940s and 1950s he worked for Wave Hill and Victoria River Downs
Stations. In his own view, these years afforded him scanty food, clothing and shelter, very little peace of mind,