TOWNSVILLE BULLETIN (Australia) 24 October 08 It's no croc - Charlie's a part of the family (John Andersen)
When Proserpine's John Casey and his sister Beth were children and went on road trips with their parents they'd sit in the back seat of the family station wagon with their Dad's pet estuarine crocodile Charlie draped across their laps.
Charlie belonged to Alf Casey who regularly took her on outings in Proserpine.
Charlie would walk up and down the street like she was a regular shopper out to buy a new frock or on her way to get a spray tan and have her nails done at the beauty parlour.
Alf would walk along behind as the human waves in front parted like the waters of the Red Sea to let Charlie through.
Alf didn't mind a cold ale on a hot day and was particularly partial to the ambience of the Palace Hotel which had a sign on the wall `No animals allowed in the bar'.
Alf would walk in with Charlie who would lie across two bar stools with her front paws and head on the bar, looking for all the world like she was having a good old chat about the cricket and about to order a `schooner of Gold with the lambs fry and bacon special of the day, mate'.
Charlie and Alf were best friends, but in 1986 that didn't stop Charlie from taking Alf's hand off above the wrist, but we'll get to that part of the story later.
There was none of that `are we there yet' or `wah, I wanna ice cream' from John and Beth on those long drives down to Rockhampton and up to Bluewater and Cairns to visit relatives.
They were too busy counting their digits and inspecting their limbs, making sure Charlie hadn't had an attack of the munchies between Bowen and Home Hill and decided to chomp off a finger or two.
John reckons it beat playing I Spy.
"We always gave her a feed before we left. That would do her for a couple of weeks. She's a pretty easy pet to look after," he said.
John and Beth would sit in the back and Charlie would lie across their laps, enjoying the gentle rhythm of the car as it ate up the miles.
She'd climb all over the inside of the wagon as it thundered up the highway and John said his mother used to hate every moment of those long drives with Charlie as a passenger.
Most of the time Charlie would just sit in Alf's lap and stick her head out the window like she was a dog enjoying the wind in her hair.
"That was her favourite position ... sitting on Dad's lap as he drove, with her head out the window. We used to get some looks. She'd crawl all around the car. Mum used to hate it," John said.
And when she'd had enough of human interaction, Charlie would climb back into the rear cargo space of the wagon and have a bit of one-on-one personal time.
The rear cargo area was Charlie's special place on those long drives.
"When she'd had enough of everything, she'd go back there," John said.
Once when they went to Cairns, Charlie was the guest of honour at one of the city's big balls and there was much fuss made over her when Alf escorted her into the room. John wasn't there, but no doubt she looked pretty foxy, and what's the bet the band played Crocodile Rock to death that night?
Alf was given Charlie as a present in 1963 when she was six months old.
A friend of his, a professional crocodile shooter, had killed her mother in Proserpine's Kelsey Creek and taken the eggs from her nest. Charlie was one of the hatchlings.
Alf and Charlie had a special bond and it was only by accident, John says, that she tore off his father's hand. Alf had been fishing all day and he'd come home pretty tired and was feeding Charlie some fish.
He was in the pen and Charlie came over and Alf pushed her away and then leaned over to pick up another fish.
While he was doing this Charlie came back over and Alf pushed her away again, but this time she grabbed his hand, thinking it was a proffered fish, and the mighty jaws slammed shut.
"She opened her mouth after she grabbed it but Dad couldn't get it because it was smashed and on the teeth and then she closed her mouth and dragged him and then did a roll and tore his left hand off just above the wrist.
"She opened her mouth and he got it out, but it was just hanging by a bit of skin.
"It was a gruesome injury, but surprisingly it didn't bleed all that much," John said.
It was 1986 and Alf, who was 69 at the time, was stabilised in Proserpine and taken to Mackay.
A tough bloke, he lost the wrist, but his arm healed quickly and he couldn't wait to get back and see his mate Charlie.
In the meantime State Government wildlife officers had arranged for Charlie to be taken to a crocodile farm at Rockhampton and when Alf found out he hit the roof and took on the Government and got her back.
Crocodile Dundee had been released and the entire world was in the grip of croc fever. Reporters were queuing up at the farmhouse door wanting the story about Proserpine's own Mick Dundee.
"And then we had the Yanks banging on the door," John said.
An American television network flew Alf and his wife over to New York and put them up in the Plaza Hotel with a chauffeur-driven limousine at their disposal.
Alf was on the talk shows and was even taken to see Crocodile Dundee in New York.
"The old feller loved it. He lapped it up," John said.
The only sad part of the story is that Alf, who is 91, has dementia and has been in a Mackay nursing home since 2002.
Even though she took off his hand, Charlie misses her old mate, but John does what he can to soften the loss.
"I go up there and speak to her the way Dad used to. When I walk past to feed the chooks in the morning she always comes out and I sing out `hey Charlie' and she sticks her head up," he said.
Charlie's driving days are over and so are her walks in Prossie and the visits to the pub.
These days the law, for some strange reason, doesn't abide a crocodile going shopping or stopping off for a jaw-wag in the pub.
Shame about that.
Charlie's a part of the family