PIED PIPER OF ALICE
“He was one of the gentlest and most magnetic personalities…”
Over 40 years ago there descended upon Alice Springs a most extraordinary missionary named Feodore Cartchenko.
From Ukrania, in Russia, and once the inmate of a World War II prison camp, this massively-built giant stood two metres tall in his bare feet and was said to be 90 kg of solid muscle, bald headed with a long black beard.
A deeply religious man, Feodore said he had come to the Alice to enlighten the citizens of the Dead Heart about God and the Bible.
“He was one of the gentlest and most magnetic personalities I ever knew,” noted the late N.T. journalist, Douglas Lockwood.
Yet, in spite of these attributes, Cartchenko was tormented, persecuted and penalised by the residents of Alice Springs, proving once again how much individuality can be feared by respectable members of any community.
According to old-timers, the former Russian farmer had a booming bass-baritone voice that literally rattled windows and sent out waves of vibrations in all directions.
Among his few worldly possessions was an Alpine horn – a long, tapering, trumpet-like instrument that, when blown, sent a reverberating tone bouncing and echoing around the hills.
On a cold May morning back in the early 1950s, the muscular visitor scaled Anzac Hill at the first glow of dawn.
He announced his presence by sending a penetrating blast from his horn over the sleeping township.
This was followed by a song – not an ordinary melodious song, but one that could be heard all the way to the Aboriginal camps near Heavitree Gap, a few kilometres to the south.
A local editor, the late Jim Bowditch, listened to Cartchenko’s deafening serenades until about 8 a.m.
On top of Anzac Hill the newspaperman cautiously approached the giant performer, feeling a little vulnerable when confronted by the powerful European.
“Goot morning,” Cartchenko bellowed, and the echoes of his greeting were said to have ricocheted off Mt. Gillen, several kilometres away.
Jim Bowditch asked the singer the reason for his unusual celebration at such an inappropriate hour.
The missionary replied: “I was singing because I am happy. It is a beautiful morning. Alice is a beautiful girl. I serenade her.”
Bowditch later wrote: “ … I formed the view that he was shell- shocked or certainly deeply affected by the bloody battles in the European sector in which more than 20 million … were killed.
“ … His gestures (were) friendly and his eyes belonged to a gentle … rather innocent person.”
Around Alice Springs township Feodore spent his evenings peacefully camped in the Todd riverbed on a groundsheet. His only real adult friends seemed to be the old Aboriginal people and the Afghan camel teamsters.
During the day, he offered his services to the residents as a gardener to earn the money he needed to buy his favourite foods: honey, fruit, bread and raw vegetables.
Regarded as an eccentric, the big Russian attracted children like the Pied Piper of Hamelin, as he stood at the top of a slide in the playground at the bottom of Anzac Hill entertaining crowds of youngsters with songs and terrifying hoots on his Alpine horn.
Unaccustomed to his unorthodox behaviour, some local mothers whispered to the law of their suspicions about his motives.
Feodor was duly arrested by the police and charged with vagrancy, even though the Russian held a bank book crediting him with several hundred dollars.
Embarrassed when their charge was dismissed, an Alice Springs police sergeant, John ‘Blackjack’ Fitzgerald, conspired to get rid of Feodore Cartchenko; he arbitrarily, without legal sanction, bundled the big man on to the overland train, the Ghan, and instructed him to travel to Adelaide.
Weeping and upset, Feodore cried: “What have I done? Why must I go?”
About 160 km south of the Alice, at the Finke River siding, the Russian quietly absconded from the Ghan and vanished into the night.
Alerted to his departure, the Alice Springs police organised a man hunt with the best blacktrackers and radio equipment available.
In above-century temperatures, the searchers found evidence that the lost man had consumed paddy melons and other native fruits that had proven in the past to be fatal.
Consequently, the Aboriginal trackers announced to their superiors that they were expecting to find Feodore Cartchenko dead in the desert, a victim of poison, thirst or heat stroke.
After five days of following the big fellow’s tracks, the Russian was found very much alive; he was sitting on top of a sand dune, a partly-eaten paddy melon at his side, singing the Song of David in his booming voice to the Centralian desert.
“It is good out here,” he mused. “I can sing without bothering people … I have been sad and I wanted to walk with nature …”
Under police escort, Feodore was returned to Alice Springs, locked in a cell and charged with being “a mental defective.”
An Alice Springs builder, Jim Richards, came forward to pay for a legal representative to argue the Russian’s case.
During the proceedings, Richards told the court: “I believe this man is perfectly sane, much saner than some people I know around here and I feel confidant that Feodore is a gentle and harmless man with good intentions.”
Special Magistrate Nicholls proclaimed the unqualified verdict that Feodor was mentally defective; he was given over to the personal care of his benefactor, Jim Richards, for 28 days and ordered not to blow his Alpine horn or to sing songs to the children of Alice Springs.
In a final irony, after 28 days of impeccable behaviour, Feodore was decreed by the authorities to be mentally stable and a free man.
Quite happily, Cartchenko worked as a builder’s labourer for Jim Richards for half a year.
His employer commented: “He was better than a front-end loader, could lift and carry great weights, never broke down nor ever complained.”
Finally, the hefty Russian announced his intention to leave Alice Springs, his place of persecution.
In the hours prior to his departure, Feodore Cartchenko marched along the streets of Alice Springs armed with a bulging bag of apples.
He wanted to find the police sergeant who had first arrested and harassed him.
Anticipating a brawl, crowds of expectant spectators accompanied the burly Russian on his quest.
On a Todd Street footpath Feodore found and faced Sergeant ‘Blackjack’ Fitzgerald, looking down on him like a threatening cloud.
Gazing steadily into the policeman’s eyes, Feodore Cartchenko slowly reached into his paper bag, saying: “Goot-bye … Here, my friend, have an apple.”
-B. Clark.
i remember this man as a boy growing up in the alice,i was surprised that there was others allso
— norman park · 12 June 2008 · #
I have just read “Fair Dinkum” and recalled al the people I knew as a boy growing up in NT in 40-50s. I recall Feodor as he told us stories at the Convent school. Tears filled my eyes when I recalledc his poor treatment.
— Peter Jones · 3 April 2009 · #
editor, would you please pass my email on to Mr Peter Jones as we grew up together in Alice,i would like to hear from him.N.PARK.
— norman park · 18 January 2010 · #