Name Henry Skinner | ||
Interview with henry skinner from death row part 1
Henry Alfred 'Harrie' Skinner was the RACA's founder and first Honorary Life Member. He introduced the first gramophone to Sydney, he was a photographic pioneer, he managed a circus and then some of the great variety acts of the day, and of course he was the founding force behind the Royal Automobile Club of Australia. By the time of his death, aged 82 in October 1936, Skinner had enjoyed an extraordinary life.
Contents
Born in England on 12 July 1854, Harrie came with his parents to Sydney around 1870, moving on to settle in Melbourne. From there he found a secure bank job in a small Victorian town, but a life in banking was not for him. At the age of around 21 he ran off "to join the circus" – Cooper and Bailey's Great American International Circus was thrilling Australia at that time, with a tour that included its big top on the site of today's Melbourne Arts Centre in 1877. The young Mr Skinner was attracted by the money to be made touring during that gold rush period. He later claimed to be making as much as £150 a week—but also losing it almost as rapidly.
According to his 1936 obituary in The Truth, Harrie went on to run various sideshows, becoming a manager for the great Harrie Rickards, who practically controlled the variety stage in Australia until 1911. Harrie Skinner piloted such celebrities as the US Minstrels, Ada Ward and Millie Walton and the Fakir of Oolu (actually an English magician called Sylvester, who performed Indian-style levitations). It is likely that Harrie introduced the gramophone to Sydney with a stage performance in mind – the first gramophones were pitted against live musicians in theatre.
But RACA's founder had still more strings to his bow. He was in Sydney as early as 1878, when he took control of the Pier Hotel in Manly, and afterwards the Tivoli in Castlereagh Street and the Agincourt in George Street (he was a great opponent of six o'clock closing). For 11 years from 1882 he published Skinner's NSW Gazetteer, detailing timetables, postal and telegraph information according to the Evening News "replete with all information commonly found in such publications and much that is not". The Gazetteer was a success, but foundered when the Commissioners for Railways began publishing their own timetables "at about one fourth of the cost of production".
He also laid an overland telegraph from Ulladulla to Batemans Bay, under government contract.
His theatrical management continued, with 27 years spent as the sole manager of the Palace Theatre, and some time as acting manager of the Tivoli. With his eye for spectacle, Harrie was the only businessman who agreed to back a foreign aviator who arrived in Sydney claiming he would build a machine that would flap its wings and fly. Harrie charged thousands of spectators 6d each to see the machine during its construction in a Castlereagh Street allotment, and interest reached fever pitch following a trial run with a donkey engine and the construction of a runway down one of the hills over Chowder Bay. Ferry boats kept a cautious distance below, with all the passengers paying the promoters for the privilege of their close-up view.
While the would-be aviator was keen to go, Harrie had few illusions as to the likelihood of success and, fearing for the life of the pilot, arranged for the chocks holding the machine to be deliberately kicked out. The machine rolled down the hill without a pilot, hitting the water with a great splash and sinking like a stone. The machine's builder was distraught, despite his share of the takings, and stories were placed in the newspapers about "ruffians from Woolloomooloo" sabotaging the flight. Impressive showmanship indeed!
A Club is Born
Harrie Skinner's love of crowd-pulling machines made him an instant enthusiast for the new automobiles arriving in Sydney, and he purchased his De Dion from retail baron Mark Foy, who would later become another founding member of the Automobile Club of Australia. The story of his founding of the Club is detailed in the preceding article, but a couple of Harrie's motoring anecdotes serve to add colour and character to the history.
The following tale relates a trip taken with good friend William 'Billy' Elliott driving a new vehicle to Bulli one Saturday. "Mr Elliott worked on the car all Friday night and we set off about 9.30 in the morning, hoping to arrive at Bulli about lunch time," Mr Skinner later recalled. "Everything went well until we reached the turning to Helensburgh, via Brown's Hill, and the top Sandy Road via Bulli Pass. Here we discovered the petrol was running out too quickly. Additional supplies had been sent to Bulli by rail.
"At the top of Brown's Hill, Billy said, 'Here's where we save some petrol'. He shut off the supply and started to coast down the hill. After going about 20 yards the pace became a cracker.
"I said, 'What's up?' and Billy replied, 'The damned brakes won't work!' Next, he tried to put his gears in, but they stripped, and off we went on our mad race.
"Two tires burst, we jumped water-courses, and the scenery rushed past in whirling array. There were two cows on the road; one went up the hill and the other down.
"There was no fence in those days and few places where a cart could pass. Fortunately, we met none. At the bottom Billy drove sideways into an embankment. Four tires were burst and missing, the gears were gone and our nerves were not functioning well. Billy says we reached 150 miles an hour. My estimate was 500. With the assistance of three different horses, we reached our destination at 7.30 PM. Ultimately, one of the brakes was found in the back of the car."
Things were not always so hectic. In the early days when horseless carriages were still drawing crowds of onlookers wherever they went, the difficulty was in finding a place to stop the car for a moment of solitude. One day Harrie Skinner took his wife for a drive to La Perouse. On arriving a tire was flat, and he proceeded to blow it up, surrounded by a critical audience of some hundreds, according to a story printed in The Motor in 1927, which can only have originated from Harrie's original anecdote. Mrs Skinner objected to this publicity, and threatened never to get into the car again. To please her Mr Skinner drove into the bush away from prying eyes, and continued working on the car. While he was busy, three young fellows drove up in a horse-drawn cart, and sensed that something was wrong.
"Can we gi' yer a hand?"
"No, thanks," replied Mr Skinner.
"Gi' yer a pull?"
"No."
"Well, can we take yer tart?"
And that, the story concludes, was the end of motoring excursions as far as Mrs. Skinner was concerned.
Driving examiner
As car numbers began to increase on New South Wales roads, and public safety became an issue for police, the authorities, who had already worked in close association with the Club on motoring issues, approached it to provide an experienced driver to undertake the examination of drivers for licences. Harrie was nominated as the member "with the most time on his hands"—a surprising statement given his level of activity! He was authorised to examine drivers and issue certificates, putting thousands through their paces during those early years.
Harrie was often heard to quip that it paid his examinees to be civil. Those who were inclined to adopt a high and mighty attitude would more than likely find themselves down a narrow alley in the city's busy centre and asked to reverse out or lose their chance of getting a licence.
Harrie Skinner's tireless work for the Club and his founding role earned him the honour of the first Honorary Life Membership of what was by then the Royal Automobile Club of Australia. A year before his death in 1936, an honorary portrait of him was unveiled at a special presentation at the RACA Club House in Macquarie Street, where it remains on display. He is buried in Waverley Cemetery, with his self-penned epitaph on his headstone:
"Life is Done, Time Ends, Eternity's Begun.
"Life was a funny proposition after all."