Friday, 12 December 2025

Murdering horse thief or victim of police persecution?


Sidney Nolan’s 1946 painting Kelly and Horse (enamel on composition board), part of the Nolan Collection,
Canberra Museum and Gallery

“Kelly himself is often quoted as saying,’Such is life’, just before he was hanged but this is debatable.” Historians ROSS FITZGERALD & DICK WHITAKER reflect on the endless legend that was Ned Kelly. 

Ned Kelly’s celebrated Last Stand at Glenrowan in Victoria, occurred on June 28 1880.

Australia’s most famous bushranger was sentenced to death on October 29 1880, ending a long saga of lawlessness and murder that held much of Australia spellbound during the previous two years.

Opinion was and still is sharply split about Kelly and his gang. To many Australians he was a murdering horse thief but to others he was/is seen as a victim of police persecution (amid issues of conflict generated by land ownership and selection.

Those poorer selectors such as the Kellys were traditionally left to struggle with inferior land, while the wealthier often had access to superior blocks.

In addition, there were religious undertones, with the Kelly family – strong Catholics – believing that there was prejudice against them stemming from the “Protestant ascendancy” prevalent in Australia at the time.

A “Petition for Reprieve” of Ned’s death penalty was circulated before his execution and attracted some 30,000 signatures. It was organised by William Gaunson (Kelly’s defence attorney) and Gaunson’s brother David.

It stated: “Your humble Petitioners, having carefully considered the circumstances of the case respectfully pray that the life of the condemned man Edward Kelly may be spared”.

Indicating the depth of public feeling the situation generated at the time, it was presented to the Governor in Council on November 8. However the request was rejected and Kelly was hanged at the Old Melbourne Gaol on November 11 1880.

Edward (Ned) Kelly was born in December 1854 into a poor family of selectors in Beveridge, northern Victoria. His father John Kelly who hailed from County Tipperary in Ireland, was transported to Tasmania as a convict in 1842 for stealing two pigs. Kelly’s mother was Ellen Quinn from County Antrim in Northern Ireland and she arrived in Victoria with her parents around 1850.

John and Ellen had eight children with Ned being number three. The family of five sisters and three brothers, born between 1851 and 1865, moved around Victoria and leased several small holdings near developing rural towns including Beveridge, Avenal and Greta, near Wangaratta. These towns are well separated from each other with Beveridge further south than the other two.

Early criminal tendencies

Ned Kelly’s schooling was basic (today’s primary school level) but it appears that he could read and write.

Ned showed early criminal tendencies being charged with assault and robbery at age 14, and then robbery in company two years later. Further serious charges of horse-theft followed – together with a jail sentence of six months hard labour at Beechworth prison for assault and using indecent language to a lady.

After this his criminal career escalated rapidly, culminating with a charge of the attempted murder of Constable Alexander Fitzpatrick in April 1878.

Accounts of the Fitzpatrick affair differ markedly. Fitzpatrick testified that he attended the Kelly homestead to arrest Dan Kelly for horse theft. In the struggle that followed Fitzpatrick was shot in the wrist by Ned Kelly.

However, Ned Kelly’s account claimed that, after arriving at the homestead, Fitzpatrick attempted to assault Ned’s sister Kate and was shot by Ned in defence of his sister.

Kelly was indicted for attempted murder and escaped into the bush soon after, accompanied by his younger brother Dan.

Hiding out in the Wombat Ranges near Mansfield, they were joined by friends Joe Byrne and Steve Hart, all four being members of a local group of “bush larrikins” called the Greta Mob. But soon after the Fitzpatrick incident they became known as the Kelly Gang.

In October 1878 the gang ambushed a pursuing police party, and shot and killed three officers. After these murders they were declared outlaws by the Victorian Government and a sizeable reward (£2,000) was placed on their heads.

The gang responded with two large bank robberies, one at Euroa in the Goulburn Valley district of Victoria and the other at Jerilderie in the Riverina district of NSW.

It was here that Ned Kelly presented a lengthy document of 56 pages for publication. Explaining the reasons behind his actions, and dictated to Joe Byrne, this became known as the Jerilderie Letter.

In an insulting attack on the law, Ned called the Victorian police “a parcel of big, ugly fat-necked, wombat-headed, big-bellied, magpie-legged, narrow-hipped, splaw-footed sons of Irish bailiffs or English landlords”.

Following this and the two bank robberies, the reward for capturing the outlaws was greatly increased to £8000, an amount close to $5 million in today’s money.

Kelly was indicted for attempted murder and escaped into the bush soon after, accompanied by his younger brother Dan.

Hiding out in the Wombat Ranges near Mansfield, they were joined by friends Joe Byrne and Steve Hart, all four being members of a local group of “bush larrikins” called the Greta Mob. But soon after the Fitzpatrick incident they became known as the Kelly Gang.

In October 1878 the gang ambushed a pursuing police party, and shot and killed three officers. After these murders they were declared outlaws by the Victorian Government and a sizeable reward (£2,000) was placed on their heads.

The gang responded with two large bank robberies, one at Euroa in the Goulburn Valley district of Victoria and the other at Jerilderie in the Riverina district of NSW.

It was here that Ned Kelly presented a lengthy document of 56 pages for publication. Explaining the reasons behind his actions, and dictated to Joe Byrne, this became known as the Jerilderie Letter.

In an insulting attack on the law, Ned called the Victorian police “a parcel of big, ugly fat-necked, wombat-headed, big-bellied, magpie-legged, narrow-hipped, splaw-footed sons of Irish bailiffs or English landlords”.

Following this and the two bank robberies, the reward for capturing the outlaws was greatly increased to £8000, an amount close to $5 million in today’s money.

Ned Kelly, clad in armour plate, attacks the police at Glenrowan on the morning of June 28 1880.
Image: Wikipedia Commons

Time finally ran out

Time finally ran out for the Kelly gang on the morning of June 28 1880 when they were surrounded by a large police force at the Glenrowan Inn in northern Victoria. Ned achieved immortality when he attacked the police wearing armour made of iron plates and firing his revolver.

Realising that shooting at his armour was futile, the police used shotguns directed at his unprotected legs. This brought him down and he was captured soon after.

In the meantime Joe Byrne, Steve Hart and Ned’s brother Dan were shot and killed.

Following his sensational trial, he was sentenced to death on October 28 1880 and went to the gallows at Melbourne Gaol just 13 days later. His mother’s last words to him the night before his execution were supposedly: “Mind you die like a Kelly.”

Kelly himself is often quoted as saying “Such is life”, just before he was hanged but this, too, is debatable.

Story didn’t end at the gallows

The Ned Kelly story did not end at the gallows. Far from it.

Kelly was originally buried at the Old Melbourne Gaol in the “Old Men’s Yard,” a nickname for the plot of land where male prisoners were buried. It was just inside the front wall of the gaol and officially declared unconsecrated ground.

In 1929, the gaol was closed for partial demolition and the bodies of all the executed prisoners buried there were exhumed and reinterred in a mass grave inside Pentridge Prison.

Again this was not on consecrated ground. There were 30 such bodies and one of these was that of Ned Kelly. But it could not be determined which was the legendary outlaw.

Eighty years later, in 2009, the bodies were again exhumed to allow redevelopment of the Pentridge Prison complex. However, the graves were poorly marked. Again the question was “which one of these was Kelly’s”?

The Victorian Labor government, led by John Brumby, announced plans to identify the bodies and, where possible, return them to existing relatives. Naturally huge interest developed regarding Ned Kelly’s remains.

During an investigation by the Victorian Institute of Forensic medicine (VIFM) the skeleton of Ronald Ryan was found – the last prisoner executed in Australia (1967).

In another skeleton, shotgun pellets were located in a leg bone. These were almost certainly from Glenrowan. The DNA found within this skeleton matched that of a known living relative of Kelly – schoolteacher Leigh Olver – great grandson of Ned’s sister Kate. 

Beginning in 2011 VIFM conducted a formal 20-month investigation involving DNA tests, CT scans, X-rays, pathology tests, odontology (dental tests) and anthropological analysis.

After this very thorough investigation experts agreed that the skeleton was that of Ned Kelly.

However the skull was missing and has never been located. It is believed that it was “souvenired” in 1929 when the executed prisoners were exhumed from the Old Melbourne Gaol. It is possible that Ned’s head was taken by a workman doing the digging, but nobody knows for sure.

Grave site remains unmarked

In 2012, the Victorian Liberal Party government led by Ted Baillieu issued a license for Kelly’s remains to be returned to the Kelly family, who made plans for his final interment. They arranged for his burial in consecrated ground at Greta Cemetery. Greta was Ned’s boyhood home from the age of 12 until the family left the area in 1878 when Kelly was 23 years of age.

Ned Kelly’s remains were buried on Sunday, January 20 2013 within Greta Cemetery. Numerous relatives were present. To prevent looting, the actual location of his grave site remains unmarked.

A fascinating footnote to the Kelly story is debate about whether or not Ned Kelly spoke with an Irish accent.

The fact is that he was very much raised in an Irish household and that, during his life, north-eastern Victoria was an Irish enclave. Although there is no direct record of his voice, by the mid-19th century, a distinct and unique Australian accent was emerging.

Hence rather than a strong Irish brogue, it seems to us likely that Ned Kelly had an Australian accent, but with some Irish tinges.

Ross Fitzgerald AM is Emeritus Professor of History and Politics at Griffith University. Dick Whitaker is a widely published author and lecturer in Australian history.

First published at Canberra City News, December 12, 2025



Thursday, 11 December 2025

Mighty Canberra music champion dies at 94



Wesley Music Centre founder, the late Garth Mansfield.

Vale Garth Lawrence Mansfield, OAM. May 24, 1931-December 3, 2025.

By Helen Musa

One of Canberra’s mightiest music champions has died, aged 94.

Acknowledged for his boundless energy, drive and focus, Garth Lawrence Mansfield was a tireless advocate for music and the founding force behind the Wesley Music Centre in Forrest. He first made his mark on Canberra’s music life in the ’60s and ’70s as organist and choir conductor at St Andrew’s Presbyterian Church, Forrest, later joining Wesley Uniting Church as director of music in 1978.

As founding director of the Wesley Music Centre from 2002 to 2013, Mansfield mentored a long line of organ scholars who went on to pursue distinguished careers overseas.

Since opening, the centre has hosted more than 3000 concerts, becoming one of Canberra’s most sought-after venues for small-scale chamber recitals and high-level recording sessions. Mansfield took pride in the fact that not a cent of its construction came from church or government grants.

Instead, it was financed entirely by the Wesley Music Foundation (ACT), which raised more than $2 million to build the centre. It quickly became home to music courses, private music teaching, U3A classes, music examinations, masterclasses and recitals. The foundation has also supported 84 outstanding young musicians to complete tertiary studies through the Wesley Music Scholarships, and partnered with the Canberra Classical Guitar Society and the Carillon Society to award young composers.

Praised by colleagues for his ability to bring people together through music, Mansfield was always supported by his wife of 59 years, Margaret, who predeceased him in 2019. Her calm influence was widely acknowledged as an important part of the centre’s success.

Known for fighting the good fight, Mansfield battled opposition to improve the church’s poor acoustics, which he once described as “a barn”, before it came to be recognised for musical excellence and fine sound quality.

At his 90th birthday celebration in 2021, cellist David Pereira described him as “a generous, kind good Samaritan”.

He is survived by his children Stephen, Narelle and Jeremy; grandchildren Jordan, Timothy, Madison and Majenta; and great-grandchildren Xavier and Elijah.

A thanksgiving service will be held at Wesley Uniting Church, 20 National Circuit, Forrest, on December 14. A livestream will be available via the Wesley Uniting Church YouTube channel.

In lieu of flowers, donations in his memory may be made to the Wesley Music Foundation (ACT).

First published at Canberra City News, December 10, 2025



Tony's 100 Favourite Movies as of December 10, 2025


A Man for all Seasons. Robert Shaw (Henry VIII), Paul Scofield (Sir Thomas More)

1. A Man For All Seasons (1966, Paul Schofield)

2. Being There (1979, Peter Sellers)

3. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner (1967, Sidney Poitier)

4. Bad Day at Black Rock (1955, Spencer Tracy)

5. On Golden Pond (1981, Katherine Hepburn)

6. Witness for the Prosecution (1957, Charles Laughton)

7. Quartet (2012, Maggie Smith)

8. Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (1922, Max Shreck)

9. The Taming of the Shrew (1967, Elizabeth Taylor)

10. Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf (1966, Elizabeth Taylor)

11. The Cowboys (1972, John Wayne)

12. A Night to Remember (1958, Kenneth More)

13. Dr Strangelove (1964, Peter Sellers)

14. Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975, Python Team)

15. The Wizard of Oz (1939, Judy Garland)

16. The Salvation (2014, Mads Mikkelsen)

17. The Sandpiper (1965, Elizabeth Taylor)

18. Boom (1968, Noel Coward)

19. Evil Under the Sun (1981, Peter Ustinov)

20. The Pink Panther (1963, Peter Sellers)

21. On the Beach (1959, Ava Gardner)

22. Earthquake (1975, Charlton Heston)

23. Airport (1970, Dean Martin)

24. The Towering Inferno (1974, Paul Newman)

25. The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (2011, Dev Patel)

26. The Lady in the Van (2015, Maggie Smith)

27. The Man Who Knew Infinity (2015, Dev Patel)

28. The Magic Christian (1969, Peter Sellers)

29. The Imitation Game (2014, Benedict Cumberbatch)

30. Forrest Gump (1994, Tom Hanks)

31. The Castle (1997, Micharl Caton)

32. The Dish (2000, Sam Neill)

33. The Bourne Identity (2002, Matt Damon)

34. The Godfather (1972 (Marlon Brando)

35. Troy (2004, Brad Pitt)

36. Pompeii (2014, Kit Harrington)

37. My Fair Lady (1964, Audrey Hepburn)

38. Grace of Monaco (2014, Nicole Kidman)

39. Charade (1963, Audrey Hepburn)

40. To Kill a Mockingbird (1962, Gregory Peck)

41. Hidden Figures (2016, Taraji P. Henson))

42. Dave (1993, Kevin Klein)

43. A Clockwork Orange (1971, Malcolm McDowall)

44. Lion (2016, Dev Patel)

45. Shane (1953, Alan Ladd)

46. The Shawshank Redemption (1994, Morgan Freeman)

47. 12 Angry Men (1957, Henry Fonda)

48. The Good the Bad and the Ugly (1966, Clint Eastwood)

49. The Silence of the Lambs (1991, Jodie Foster)

50. The Pianist (2002, Adrien Brody)

51. Das Boot (1981, Jurgen Prochnow)

52. Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981, Harrison Ford)

53. The Red Shoes (1948, Moira Shearer)

54. The Hunt for Red October (1982, Sean Connery)

55. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975, Jack Nicholson)

56. The King's Speech (2010, Geoffrey Rush)

57. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019, Brad Pitt)

58. The African Queen (1951, Humphrey Bogart)

59. Rear Window (1954, Grace Kelly)

60. Amadeus (1984, Tom Hulse)

61. Master and Commander (2003, Russell Crowe)

62. The Exorcist (1973, Ellen Bursten)

63. Goldfinger (1964, Sean Connery)

64. The Guns of Navarone (1961, Gregory Peck)

65. Sink the Bismark (1960, Kenneth More)

66. Little Caesar (1931, Edward G Robinson)

67. Brief Encounter (1945, Trevor Howard)

68. Alien (1979, Sigouney Weaver)

69. This is Spinal Tap (1984, Christopher Guest)

70. Cast Away (2000, Tom Hanks)

71. Sully (2009, Tom Hanks)

72. Traffic (1971, Jacques Tati)

73. Bedazzled (1967, Dudley Moore)

74. Interview with the Vampyre (1994, Brad Pitt)

75. Excalibur (1981, Nigel Terry)

76. To Sir With Love (1967, Sidney Poitier)

77. The Italian Job (1969, Michael Caine)

78. Scarface (1983, Al Pacino)

79. Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961, Audrey Hepburn)

80. The Talented Mr Ripley (1999, Matt Damon)

81. Harry Brown (2009, Michael Caine)

82. Animal Kingdom (2010, Jacki Weaver)

83. Allegro non Troppo (1976, Animated)

84. The Party, (1968, Peter Sellers)

85. "10", (1979, Bo Derek)

86. High Fidelity (2000, John Cusack)

87. Chopper (2000, Eric Banna)

88. The Life and Death of Peter Sellers (2004, Geoffrey Rush)

89. Churchill (2017, Brian Cox)

90. Good Morning Vietnam (1987, Robin Williams)

91. The Out of Towners (1970, Jack Lemon)

92. What We Do In The Shadows (2014, Jemaine Clement)

93. Man on the Moon (1999, Jim Carey)

94. Red Sun (1971, Charles Bronson)

95. The Great Race (1965, Tony Curtis)

96. Casablanca (1942, Ingrid Bergman)

97. The Best Offer (2013, Geoffrey Rush)

98. Behind the Candelabra (2014, Michael Douglas)

99. The Adventures of Tintin (2011, Jamie Bell)

100. Hunt for the Wilderpeople (2016, Sam Neill)





Friday, 5 December 2025

Martha Argerich, the Elusive, Enigmatic ‘Goddess’ of the Piano



At 83, the Argentine-Swiss pianist is at the peak of her powers. But she doesn’t want to talk about it.

“I want to hide.” Argerich in Basel, Switzerland.Credit...Mischa Christen for The New York Times

By Javier C. Hernández


The pianist Martha Argerich had just delivered an electrifying performance on a snowy night in northern Switzerland. Fans were lining up backstage for autographs, and friends were bringing roses and chrysanthemums to her dressing room.


But Argerich, who at 83 is still one of the world’s most astonishing pianists, with enough finger strength to shatter chestnuts or make a Steinway quiver, was nowhere to be seen. She had slipped out a door to smoke a Gauloises cigarette.


“I want to hide,” she said outside the Stadtcasino concert hall in Basel, Switzerland, shrinking beneath her billowy gray hair. “For a moment, I don’t want to be a pianist. Now, I am someone else.”


As she smoked, Argerich, one of classical music’s most elusive and enigmatic artists, obsessed about how she had played the opening flourish of Schumann’s piano concerto that evening with the Orchestra della Svizzera Italiana. (Her verdict: “not so good.”) And she became transfixed by the memory of performing the concerto for the first time, as an 11-year-old in Buenos Aires, her hometown.


There, at the Teatro Colón in 1952, a conductor whose name was seared into her memory — Washington Castro — had offered a warning. Never forget, he said: Strange things happen to pianists who play the Schumann concerto.


At 83, Argerich is busier than ever. “They look old now,” she said of her hands, “but they still work.”Credit...Mischa Christen for The New York Times

Argerich thought about his words every time she played the piece. And now, in the ninth decade of her life, she felt that strange things were happening to her too.

She was defying all expectations of age — many concert pianists lose speed and strength in their 70s and 80s — her fingers still capable of dizzying acrobatic feats. (“They look old now,” she said of her hands, “but they still work.”) She was having dreams about Schumann, the composer closest to her soul. (“There is something so spontaneous and so touching and so true about him,” she said.) She was seeing “new colors, new dimensions” in music she had played hundreds of times.

And as she watched more of her friends and musical colleagues die or fall ill, Argerich was pondering what she called her own “peculiar existence.”


A FEW DAYS earlier, I had gone to the emerald shores of Lake Lugano, near Switzerland’s border with Italy, in search of Argerich, a notoriously private artist who rarely grants interviews.

Argerich (pronounced AR-guh-reech), who grew up in Argentina but has lived for decades in Geneva, has a reputation for mysticism. She can summon immense power and velocity in Prokofiev and Tchaikovsky. Yet she can also play Bach with delicacy and flairRavel with intuitive grace; and Schumann with innocence and wonder.

“She’s a pure goddess,” said the star pianist Yuja Wang. “She transfixes you. You go to her concerts and you walk out saying, ‘Holy cow, what was that?’”

Argerich’s eccentricities have made her a cult figure in classical music. She does not sign contracts — as a Gemini, she said, she fears commitment. She has no publicists or minders. Since the 1980s, she has eschewed solo performances, saying they make her feel lonely, “like an insect” under a light.


Her irreverent spirit — she is prone to making faces — has inspired memes on social media, including one that shows her massaging her face with a tangerine. (“Silence please,” a caption says.) She moves between engagements in peasant blouses and baggy jeans, carrying her own tote bags full of scores, astrology texts, high heels and red lipstick.


In Lugano, a holy place for Argerich where she once curated a festival, I caught her by surprise on the stage of the Auditorio Stelio Molo. She had just finished rehearsing the Schumann concerto under the baton of Charles Dutoit, an ex-husband. She greeted me with uneasy eyes, saying she was tired, not feeling well, in desperate need of practice and had nothing to say. But after a cigarette and a Coca-Cola, she invited me into her dressing room to chat.

Some critics have called Argerich the greatest living pianist — the last in a line of titans like Sergei Rachmaninoff, Arthur Rubinstein and Vladimir Horowitz, her idol. But she rejects that title.

“The greatest pianist in the world?” she told me, shaking her head. “There is no such thing.”

I SHADOWED Argerich on tour in Switzerland over the winter. I tried to put her at ease, helping carry her bags and speaking casually in Spanish, her native language. But she was rarely in the mood to talk. One night, a friend of Argerich’s texted to say that I should meet Argerich in a hotel lobby at 3 a.m. When I showed up, Argerich, a night owl, had already changed her mind. “Buenas noches,” she said plainly, before heading to her room.

When she felt like talking, she could be entrancing. She told me that love and music were the twin mysteries of life; she spoke of her kinship with dead composers (she called Chopin “my impossible love”); she said that music makes her feel alive; and she acknowledged that she often doubts her abilities (“I have insecurities all the time — that it’s not good, that I’m not prepared,” she said).


Read the full article here.


First published at The New York Times, April 1, 2025. Updated April 2, 2025