In the late 1860s the first settlers in the Camooweal area were driven out by roving tribesmen, lack of good water, terrible isolation, and an economic depression which almost brought the young country to its knees.

These early settlers had tried cattle and sheep farming.

They failed but were lured back to the scene of their failure by some Outback mystique.

The township as it is today 'happened' when a hawker by the name of J J Cronin pitched camp on the banks of the now dried up Frances Lake.

Cronin was a salesman, anything he could transport he could find a buyer for.

Soon the itinerant drovers made his camp a regular port of call. A year later a drifter called Kennedy with an eye for a swift profit decided to build a bar.

His partner in this venture was a man named Hughes.

The two quarrelled, Hughes moved into the Northern Territory and Kennedy stayed in Camooweal.

More drovers and stockmen drifted in and stores were built.

People began to think of settling permanently in Camooweal; a township was born.

Like every other bush town, Camooweal has its legends and its tall tales.

The drovers tell the tale of a lynching which almost ended in a hard-drinking stockman being hanged from the rafters of a Camooweal pub.

The hard drinker had one problem - he drank beer stowed in other people's saddlebags.

Two station hands, tired of what they thought was an anti-social act, decided to set the fellow on the straight and narrow.

With three saddle straps they made a noose and strung the offender up from the pub rafters.

A quick-thinking barman cut the dangling man down.

Murder wasn't done that day and the hard drinker never touched another drop of beer.

The tales are legion.

The best source of local history in 1974 was 80 year-old Mrs Pearl Beaumont (nee McMahon) who was born in the town.

Her father built and ran the Cosmopolitan Hotel and as it flourished his family grew up in the frontier town.

The Cosmopolitan Hotel was the hub of the North West and once catered for thousands of cattlemen, station hands, travelling salesmen and miners who frequented the once prosperous town with its dozens of shops, boarding houses, three hotels and dance hall.

Mrs Beaumont could remember when supplies were carted down from Burketown.

She longingly remembered the days when Camooweal had its own market garden, baker, half dozen top tradesmen and weekly barn dances.

She recalled the days when a woman could sleep without locking her bedroom door, although by the time she was 80, she was sleeping with a rifle by her bedside.

Life, she thinks, had more meaning in the old days.

The weekly dance was something to look forward to - and if the fiddler who provided the music was ill the town almost went into a state of mourning. How could the people survive without one dance a week?

There were no 'softies' in the old days she said.

"The women had big families and by jingo they had to work hard to look after them.

"They knew how to cook - none of this tinned rubbish they have nowadays.

"The children were brought up on good food and discipline and it never did them any harm.

"Even at school there was no messing about. I was no stranger to the cane when I was a young girl.

"I sometimes tried to sneak a few days off but I never got away with it. I was always caught out."

And with a smile she added, "We had our lighter moments, though."

"I'll always remember those dances. All the women were dressed in lovely clothes.

"They came in from the stations dressed like queens and they danced all night until it was light and time to get back to the business of raising a family or running a business in ordinary working clothes.

"The men were the same. The tough stockmen would dress up in suits and they'd wear a collar and tie for the first time in ages.

"They were perfect gentlemen. They had to be. If somebody didn't behave, they left town quick smart.

"I remember the old Roman Catholic Bishop of Townsville who used to come out here on horseback.

"A clergyman had to be a bit more than a preacher in those days.

"I remember the old policemen who were around in those days.

"They never had to use any rough stuff, they were the law and the people respected them if they knew what was good for them."

She remembered, too, the picnics.

"The young men and the young ladies - it was all very proper - would organise picnics in the bush.

"We'd trot out to some nice spot and have a really good day.

Sunday picnics were one of the week's social highlights when Pearl Beaumont and the young ladies of the town rode their hacks side-saddle.

"We had some real characters around then - there was Booraloola Bob and Dusty Bob.

"Booraloola was quiet as a mouse when he was sober but when he had a few beers he sometimes wanted to take on the world.

"He'd shout, 'who wants a fight' and when he got no takers, he went quiet again.

"Pretty soon there won't be any old people left who remember the dust storms and the terrible hard seasons we sometimes had to struggle through.

"They won't remember the camel drovers who came in with fresh fruit.

"I was born here in 1893 so I've been around a long time.

"Camooweal produced some fine people!"

Researched by Kim-Maree Burton.

Mrs Pearl Beaumont's memories were first published in the North West Star's 'Pioneering Years' in 1973.

Photographs sourced from Ada Miller's book 'The Border and Beyond'.