ON a bright, sunny Saturday morning in 1888, Alf Merritt stepped out from the verandah of the Royal Hotel in Warialda and strolled nonchalantly down Hope Street.

He peered skyward. It was a beautiful day. Merritt was on his way to Lawson and Campbell’s General Store, just up the road.

He was pretty sure Messrs Lawson and Campbell would have what he needed.

Merritt was after a butcher’s knife. He was told by Royal Hotel kitchenhand Martha Flannigan there were none on the premises when he went snooping around the pub kitchen earlier that morning.

“You’ll have to go and buy one,” she told Merritt.

Hope Street was bustling with Saturday morning shoppers, in town for weekly supplies and convivial catch-ups and pop-ins. Merritt smiled at the men and tipped his hat to the ladies as he strolled along. He was known as ‘Happy Jack’ and it wasn’t hard to figure out why.

It was March 3, 1888, and the sun shone brightly. Autumn had just turned up – as expected – and gave the pioneering town an early blast of radiance.

Nearly an inch of rain fell the previous week and there had been just over nine inches of rain that year – the district was waterlogged and wealthy.

Merritt, 31, strutted past the post office, bakery, Bank of New South Wales, School of Arts, Commercial Bank and Police Station and stopped in front of Lawson and Campbell’s General Store. He hitched his strides, adjusted his sleeves, and marched through the front door.

Tom Lawson peered up from the cash drawer. He looked Merritt up and down and stifled a frown.

Lawson knew the type. This bloke was brash and full of confidence – a typical mug lair.

Lawson’s business partner, Bill Campbell, nodded accordingly.

Merritt, tall, tanned and rakish with short-cropped hair, well-trimmed beard and sharp hazelnut eyes, smiled at Lawson and Campbell.

“I’m looking at buying a knife; what do you have,” he asked.

Lawson forced a smile. “We have several; exactly what type of knife are you looking for?”

“Something sharp,” replied Merritt.

Campbell sighed resignedly and left Lawson to deal with the newcomer.

Lawson opened a drawer from under the counter and showed Merritt a selection of knives and blades, including a carving knife and a table knife.

Merritt finally settled on a sheath knife. He ran his thumb along the blade but complained it was too dull.

“It’s not very sharp,” he said.

Campbell tersely offered to sharpen the blade on a stone.

Merritt watched closely as Campbell slowly ran the blade back and forth over the stone. After a few minutes, Campbell raised the knife and rotated it slowly. The blade glinted as it turned.

“Is that better,” Campbell asked. There was just a hint of irritation in his voice.

Merritt nodded. He paid for the knife and left the store.

Lawson and Campbell both frowned. They were glad to see the back of him. The stranger, a spiv good and proper, had been spotted about town over the past few days.

He and a mate, a young jockey that went by the name of James Osborne, were often seen walking the streets or regaling locals at the Royal Hotel, and sometimes at Tommy Howe’s White Swan Hotel, where Osborne had enquired about work.

He made it known he was a horse trainer of considerable note. So far, no-one had rushed forward with a team of horses.

Osborne, also known as ‘Jimmy the Stepper’ or ‘Fisk’, lobbed in town with Merritt in late February. They’d made their way over from Tamworth, stopping at Armidale and Inverell along the way.

They weren’t exactly on the lam, but police had shown pretty keen interest in the pair.

Newspapers later described Merritt “a frequenter of race meetings and popular sports with those enticing little games to extract coins from the pockets of the unwary”.

“He is fairly educated, but by no means an intelligent man, and used to pick up a living by attending race meetings as a spieler. He is naturally a quick-tempered man, and used to be a good-hearted one, who spent his money freely when he had any, but was not particular as to the means by which it was obtained.”

Osborne was described as a “somewhat unprincipled, roving youth, who used to drink and gamble as heavily as his means would permit”.

There was a matter of some counterfeit banknotes being passed around the district and the police at Tamworth reckoned Merritt and Osborne might know a thing or two about the matter.

They were spotted cashing notes at George Pullman’s Moonbi Inn, near Tamworth, but the money was clean.

In modern times, Merritt and Osborne would be ‘persons of interest’; in outback New South Wales in the 1880s, they were two drifters under the watchful eye of the law.

They managed to stay one step ahead, however, and made their way on foot to Warialda, nestled on Reedy Creek about 15 miles from the Gwydir River, 50-odd miles west of Inverell.

Warialda was gazetted as a town in 1855 and quickly became the business, legal and political hub of north-western New South Wales.

The Gwydir district, like the rest of Australia, experienced a boom during the 1880s. Stock returns in 1887 showed 7983 horses, 49,300 head of cattle and more than 890,000 sheep were in the region.

There was money to be had for a couple of silver-tongued sharpshooters like Merritt and Osborne.

Merritt lodged at the Royal Hotel, owned by Marion Horne, and Osborne found a room at the White Swan Hotel, where he made it known he knew a thing or two about racehorses.

They quickly ingratiated themselves in the community and came across as a likable pair, especially to the gullible and unwary.

Merritt was a racetrack urger and coat-tugger. He relied solely on his wits to make a living, whether by foul means or fair. Money meant absolutely nothing to him. One day he could be loaded with coin; the next, he might be penniless, destitute and wondering where his next meal was coming from.

He also used the aliases John Key and John Darlington when a quick name-change was needed – and that was often.

Merritt mixed with the rough end of society. Ten years earlier he was the victim of an attempted act of sodomy. The offender, 65-year-old Denis Connelly, was sent to Berrima Gaol for 12 months.

Osborne, born in Maitland in 1863, was a disgraced jockey, barred from riding for allegedly pulling a horse called Nepicallina, a pretty handy galloper on its day.

Nepicallina was originally raced by prominent Port Hacking owner Arthur Smart. In 1885 Smart sold the colt to noted Randwick trainer Bill Forrester.

At his top, Osborne, who also went by the name James Doherty, rode for some of the leading stables in Sydney and Melbourne including the aforementioned Forrester, who later trained Gaulus and The Grafter to finish first and second in the 1897 Melbourne Cup.

Osborne’s time in the saddle was brief – increasing weight didn’t help – but he rode his share of winners and was ‘noticed’ by owners and trainers.

At some point during his teens, Osborne served part of a boot-making apprenticeship under George Walmsley at Maitland and it was rumoured his father was a retired police officer living at Forest Lodge, in Sydney.

Now, at 25, Osborne found himself in Warialda living a day-to-day existence with a like-minded rolling stone he hadn’t known for very long.

Exactly when Jimmy the Stepper and Happy Jack teamed up is unclear, but they more than likely found each other on a racecourse. It was later established they operated a tipcart at Tamworth before making their way to Warialda.

They also found something at Warialda that was right up their alley – a race meeting.

They missed the January races, but were sure there would be easy pickings at a double-header planned for April 4-5, especially now they had a couple of weeks up their sleeves to grease up the locals.

After all, there was no shortage of hostelries in the district for Merritt and Osborne to ‘work’.

Alex Allison ran the Stockman’s Arms Hotel at Gunyerwarildi, about 17 miles from Warialda; John Brodie had the Royal Oak Hotel; Bill Crane ran the Gwydir Arms Hotel; and Frank Leonard served weary travellers at the Little Plains Hotel on the Bingara Road, only a few miles out of Warialda.

Merritt and Osborne often quarrelled, sometimes violently, suggesting they hadn’t known each other all that long. These blues, more than likely over money, were quickly resolved however, or so it seemed.

It is unclear whether Merritt purchased the sheath knife because of a falling out with Osborne.

He may have had revenge in mind – or self-preservation, perhaps.

It is patently clear however, Merritt was armed with the knife when Osborne dropped by to see him at the Royal Hotel late on Saturday afternoon, March 3, the same day Merritt purchased the knife at Lawson and Campbell’s General Store.

Warialda locals told newspapers Merritt and Osborne were mates, but often argued. Journalists, using this local knowledge, speculated the pair were not cogging – hence Merritt’s need to buy the knife.

However, it is more than likely Merritt and Osborne hardly knew each other. They were probably drawn together by circumstances, rather than mateship.

At about 5.30pm, Osborne found Merritt on the hotel’s upstairs verandah, playing with a caged parrot, the hotel pet.

Merritt was a little worse for wear. He’d spent most of the afternoon downstairs in the saloon bar.

Maybe Osborne hoped to patch things up with his mate. He walked straight in to Merritt’s quarters and made himself at home. Merritt turned and followed Osborne into the room. He pulled the door shut and calmly removed a piece of timber that propped up a sash window overlooking Hope Street. The window slid closed silently.

This seemingly harmless act suggested what happened next was premeditated.

Within seconds Merritt pounced. He violently pushed Osborne to the bed and straddled the much-smaller man.

“I’ve got you now, you bastard,” Merritt growled.

“Jack, don’t,” pleaded Osborne.

Hotel employee Minnie Jenner was in the room next door, half-dressed. She heard a struggle and muffled voices through the paper-thin wall. She quickly finished dressing and raced to the hallway, just as Merritt plunged the sheath knife through Osborne’s heart, killing him instantly.

The extra sharpening earlier that day at Lawson and Campbell’s General Store wasn’t really necessary.

Jenner peered through the unlocked door and witnessed Merritt reef the knife from Osborne’s heaving chest. The blade was embedded to the hilt. There was blood everywhere. Osborne’s lifeless, piercing eyes stared at the ceiling. His arms lay limp by his side.

“I’ve got you at last, you little bastard, you’re done for,” Merritt snarled.

A curdling scream poured from Jenner’s lungs as she charged downstairs to raise the alarm.

A crowd by this time had gathered at the front of the hotel.

Merritt emerged from the building and threw the knife at the feet of Royal Hotel licensee Marion Horne.

“I’ve done for him; I’ve killed him,” Merritt told the crowd.

He slumped to his knees and waited for the law to arrive.

Warialda Police were alerted and Inverell doctor, Thomas Lane, summonsed.

Sergeant Tom Clarke arrested Merritt and dragged him away. Later that evening Dr Lane conducted a post-mortem examination on Osborne’s body.

“A single blow of the knife deeply penetrated the left ventricle of the heart. Death was instantaneous,” Dr Lane concluded.

Osborne had just two shillings to his name when murdered.

On Monday, March 5, a coronial inquest was conducted in front of a big crowd of curious locals at Warialda Court House before William Vaughan May Cooke.

Police Magistrate Cooke, appointed district coroner in 1886, found Osborne died from the “effects of a wound unlawfully inflicted by one Alfred Merritt” and committed the accused to stand trial for wilful murder.

Merritt showed no sign of emotion throughout the inquest. However, he broke down and sobbed when Cooke announced his findings.

On Wednesday, April 12, Merritt faced Justice James Stephen at Tamworth Circuit Court. The case was adjourned until defence counsel could be arranged for the accused.

The following day Alexander Gordon arrived from Armidale to defend Merritt.

Crown Prosecutor William Halse Rogers presented cut-and-dried evidence, including testimony from Royal Hotel employees Martha Flannigan and Minnie Jenner as well as store-keeper Tom Lawson.

On the morning of the murder, Merritt asked Flannigan whether he could borrow a butcher’s knife from the hotel kitchen.

When told there were none on the premises, Merritt went to Lawson and Campbell’s General Store and purchased a sheath knife.

Tom Lawson told the court Merritt was a “fastidious” customer.

“The accused complained the knife wasn’t sharp enough, so Mr Campbell sharpened it on a rag-stone for him,” Lawson said.

Minnie Jenner’s damning evidence sealed Merritt’s fate.

She described how she witnessed Merritt extract the sheath knife from Osborne’s chest.

“The chain of evidence establishing Merritt’s guilt was so strong that his subsequent confession was not needed,” newspapers reported.

“The horrible fastidiousness the prisoner displayed in the selection of a suitable weapon, according to the evidence of the store-keeper Thomas Lawson, proves only too strongly the malicious aforethought of the cold-blooded murderer.

“Minnie Jenner heard the words and saw the deed. According to the evidence of this witness also, the removal of the stick from under the window in order to close it for the purpose of hiding his acts from prying eyes, shows also the premeditation of the deed.”

Merritt remained calm throughout the day-long trial.

After hearing the evidence, including the fact Merritt had no prior convictions despite his alleged shady past, the jury found him guilty of wilful murder, adding a recommendation for mercy.

Justice Stephen addressed the accused.

“Is there any reason I should not pass the death sentence for this heinous crime,” he asked.

Merritt looked forlornly at the judge. His lips trembled.

“Drink was the cause of it all, Your Honour. But, of course, as had been said in the past, there is no excuse for drink. I must have been literally mad to commit such a deed on a boy against whom I had no grudge,” Merritt whispered.

“Therefore, I ask for no mercy. I would willingly part with my own life if it could bring back the other. I am quite satisfied with the way I have been defended.”

Justice Stephen peered down at the accused.

“Alfred Merritt, I sentence you to be hanged by the neck until dead. May God have mercy on your soul.”

A single tear trickled down Merritt’s cheek.

“I will try manfully to meet my God, Your Honour.”

Justice Stephen replied: “I am sure you are regretful for what has happened and the crime you have been found guilty of committing. But in your case, repentance has come too late. In saying that, I will duly forward the recommendation of mercy to the right quarter.”

Merritt was placed in Darlinghurst Gaol to await the hangman’s noose. Luck, however, was on his side.

On Tuesday, May 8, the New South Wales Executive Council, under the presidency of Lieutenant-Governor Alfred Stephen, a cousin of Justice Stephen, commuted Merritt’s death sentence to 14 years’ imprisonment.

Merritt was taken from Darlinghurst Gaol and placed in Berrima Gaol.

In 1892 he was moved to Goulburn Gaol and the following year transferred to Maitland Gaol.

By September, 1897 he was in Armidale Gaol.

Merritt was a model prisoner. He played by the rules, and kept his nose clean and mouth shut.

New South Wales Prisons’ Comptroller-General Frederick Neitenstein discharged Merritt from Armidale Gaol on April 13, 1898, adopting an early release scheme for good behaviour he developed the previous year.

Neitenstein was regarded prudish and stand-offish, but his prison reforms were ground-breaking, if not unorthodox. He cultivated many ideas from juvenile reform policies he established when captain of Nautical School Ship, Vernon, a floating prison for destitute and ‘wayward’ children established under the Reformatory Schools Act.

Neitenstein’s reforms included marking and grading systems, and physical exercise programmes. His changes, considered radical by some observers, aimed to reduce inmate populations across gaols in New South Wales.

Merritt was discharged by special remission – 10 years to the day the one-time racetrack spiv was convicted of murdering former jockey James Osborne at the Royal Hotel in Warialda in 1888.

Osborne is buried at Warialda’s Pioneer Cemetery.

Signed copies of Bush Tragedies available HERE.

Words: Bill Poulos

Image: Supplied