STATION MASTER

The signature of Station-Master Stanistreet.

Station-Master Stanistreet was one of the prisoners during the siege.
He was asked by Ned how to signal a train, and then made sure he
would not do so.

Stanistreet carried a pistol, a fact Curnow used to try and ingratiate
himself to Ned by letting him know of its existence.

The Age 1880

THE STATION-MASTER’S ACCOUNT

The station-master at Glenrowan states
that-“I awoke at 3 o’clock on Sunday
morning , when hearing a knock at the
door, I got out of bed, thinking some person
wanted the gates opened, the house
being about 80 yards distant from
them. When half dressed I proceeded to
open the door, but as I arrived at it the
door was burst in. I asked “Who are you?
The reply was, ‘I am Ned Kelly.’ I saw a
man with an over-coat on, he walked to my
bedroom, my wife and children being in bed
at the time. Ned Kelly said, ‘You come
with me to take up the rails.’ I completed
dressing and followed him out on to the
line. I found seven or eight men
near the gate leading to the line. Ned
Kelly said, ‘Instruct those men how to raise
the rails, as I expect a special- train.’ I ob-
jected, stating I did not know how to do so
and that the only persons who understood it
were the line-repairers. Kelly then went on
alone to Riordon’s (sic) (the platelayer) house,
about a mile distant the other men being
left in charge of Steve Hart. The latter
struck me with a rifle, and ordered the tools
out to raise the line. He then broke the
lock of the chest, and took out the tools.
Ned Kelly, with Riordon (sic) and Sullivan, line-
repairers, next arrived, and the three went
down the line in the direction of Wangaratta.
I stood with Hart for two hours, until Ned
Kelly returned, and enquired as to how the
train could be stopped with a signalling-
lamp, as the special train was approaching.
Ned said, ‘You must give no sign;
at the same time directing Hart
to watch my face and shoot me if I stirred
after him. He then marched back to the
house, whilst others were brought in,
seventeen in all, and locked up on Sunday.
They were allowed to go out occasionally,
but were strictly watched. The women
were allowed to go to Jones’s Hotel during
the afternoon, and we all went to the hotel
later on. The bushrangers watched us in
turn. Before the special train arrived,
I was again ordered by Hart not to signal.
I went into Jones’s kitchen and found
her and her two children there, also a man
named McKean. The train soon after
arrived, and firing commenced furiously,
when the gang left us.
A ball grazed the temple of a child,
but did not inflict a serious
wound. I went into the yard, and saw the
gang there. They said, “if you go out, you
will be shot.” I passed on to my house
whilst the firing was going on, but was un-
injured. The place was not set fire to until
orders had been received from the Chief-
Secretary, a belief being then entertained
that none but the three bushrangers were inside.

The Argus 1880.

THE STATIONMASTERS NARRATIVE.

John Stanistreet, the stationmaster at Glenrowan, states:―”About 3 o’clock
on Sunday morning a knock came to my door. I live at the gatehouse, within 100
yards of the station, on the Melbourne side. I jumped out of bed, and, thinking
it was someone wishing to get through the gates in a hurry, I proceeded to dress,
and after getting half my clothes on I went to the door. Just as I arrived at the door
it was burst in. Previous to that there was some impertinent talk outside to get
me to open quickly. When the door was burst in I asked, ‘Who are you; what is
this for?’ The answer was, ‘I am Ned Kelly.’ I saw a man clad in an overcoat,
who walked in with me to my bedroom. Mrs. Stanistreet and the children were
there in bed. There were two little girls and one infant. Ned Kelly said to me,
‘You have to come with me and take up the rails.’ I replied, ‘Wait until I dress;’
and I completed my dress, and followed him out of the house on the railway line.
I found seven or eight men standing at the gate looking over the line near Mrs.
Jones’s Glenrowan Inn. Ned Kelly, speaking to me, said, ‘Now you direct
those men how to raise some of the rails, as we expect a special train very soon.’ I
objected, saying, ‘I know nothing about lifting rails off the line. The only persons
that understand it are the repairers, and they live outside and on the line.’ Ned went
on alone to Reardon the platelayers house, which stands about a quarter of a mile along
the line southward. I and the other men were left in charge of Steve Hart. Ned
Kelly went on to Reardon’s house; Steve Hart gave me a prod with his gun in the
side, and said, ‘You get the tools out that are necessary to raise those rails.’ I re-
plied, ‘I have not the key of the chest.’ He said, ‘We’ll break the lock,’ and he
got one of the men to do so. They took all the tools out of the chest, which lay in
a back shed or toolhouse between the station and the crossing. Soon afterwards
Ned and two of the repairers, Reardon and Sullivan, arrived. Ned, accompanied by
these two men, proceeded down the line towards Wangaratta. We stood with Hart in the cold
at the hut for about two hours. At last Ned Kelly and the repairer returned. Ned
inquired about the signalling on the line―how I stopped trains with the signal lamps. I
told him white is right and red wrong, and green generally ‘come along.’ He then said,
‘There is a special train coming, and you will give no signal.’ Then, speaking to Hart,
he said, ‘Watch his countenance, and if he gives any signal shoot him.’ He
marched us into my house, and left us under the charge of Steve Hart. Subsequently
other persons were made prisoners and lodged in my house to the number of
about 17. They were the Reardon family, the Ryan family, Tom Cameron, son of a
gatekeeper on the line, and others whom I don’t remember. We were locked up
all day on Sunday, but we were allowed out under surveillance. The women were
allowed to go to Jones’s Hotel about dark, all the men but myself and family
went to the hotel soon afterwards. Steve Hart remained with us all night.
During the night Dan Kelly relieved Hart, and he was afterwards relieved by Byrne.
Just before the special train arrived this morning I was ordered by Hart, who
was on and off duty throughout the night, to follow him over to Jones’s, and not to
signal the train. I went into the back kitchen, and found there Mrs. Jones, with her
daughter about 14, and two younger children. There was also a man there named Neil
McKean. By this time the train had arrived, and firing was going on furiously, and we
all took shelter about the chimney. The house is a mere shell of a structure.
The gang disappeared from me when the firing commenced. A bullet passed
right through the kitchen, and grazed the temple of Jane Jones, aged 14, daughter
of the landlord. She exclaimed, ‘I am shot,’ and as she turned to me I saw her head
bleeding, and told her it was nothing serious. Poor Mrs. Jones commenced to
cry bitterly. I left the kitchen and went into the back yard, and passed the gang there.
They were standing together at the kitchen chimney. I cannot say whether there were
three or four of them. One of them said, ‘If you go out you will be shot.’ I walked
straight to my house. Firing was going on, but I was uninjured. Of course I was
challenged as I passed through. I omitted to state that on Sunday night Steve Hart
demanded my revolver from me, and I had to give it up".

Note: this story is very very similar to the one which
appeared in the Albury Banner of July 1880.

(the same story appeared in several papers at once)