Brisbane in the late 1800s was no paradise. Its bustling city centre brimmed with life and chaos, where Queen Street and North Quay hosted lively public houses, shops, and an unyielding underbelly of petty crime. Among the rogues, drunkards, and scamps that frequented these streets, one name stands out: Susan McGowan.
She was not a criminal mastermind nor a saintly heroine but a woman whose life became a vivid reflection of the darker threads of her time. She became infamous not for any crime she committed but for the relentless hardships that defined her existence.
Susan’s world was gritty and unforgiving, as central Brisbane was notorious for its incidents of drunken brawls, thefts, and street assaults. For women like Susan, surviving meant braving the hazards of a society quick to judge and slow to protect. Her story, however, was extraordinary for the sheer frequency and brutality of her encounters with violence and misfortune.
A Pattern of Violence
Susan McGowan first caught public attention in January 1885 when Joshua Stead, a larrikin with a penchant for trouble, assaulted her. Mr Stead accused Susan of having landed him in jail for an earlier incident. His response? He knocked her to the ground and kicked her repeatedly. The court sentenced him to two months of hard labour, but the punishment didn’t shield Susan from further attacks.
Two months later, Susan’s name reappeared in the police court records. Patrick Brittain hurled a rock at her, striking her head, then viciously kicked her face and leg. The court’s judgement offered her little solace as Mr Brittain faced charges for multiple offences that day, including drunkenness and vandalising a police uniform. For Susan, it was another entry in a growing list of assaults.
By May, she was once again a victim, this time at the hands of Margaret Corkery. The altercation stemmed from lingering animosity, and Ms Corkery severely beat Susan in the middle of Margaret Street. Like others before her, Ms Corkery received two months’ imprisonment.
By mid-1885, Susan had endured at least five assaults, each more public and humiliating than the last. Even the central streets of Brisbane, notorious as they were, seemed uniquely hostile to her.
The Resilient Rowdy
Susan was a fighter in a world that offered her little else. Though small in stature—barely five feet tall—she was unyielding. Dr Anastasia Dukova, a historian specialising in crime and policing, described Susan as part of a subculture of independent women in colonial Brisbane. Known as “rowdies” or “molls,” these women defied societal norms, carving out spaces of resilience and community in a hostile environment.
Yet, Susan’s notoriety as a streetwalker and her frequent brushes with the law marked her as an easy target. Society viewed women like her with disdain, punishing them not only for their actions but for existing outside the boundaries of Victorian ideals. For Susan, every court appearance underscored how colonial justice worked against her, trapping her in a cycle of vulnerability and abuse.
Frog’s Hollow: A Grim Last Chapter
By 1890, Susan’s health had deteriorated. She lived in Lower Albert Street’s “Nine Holes,” a grim nickname for a row of shop houses plagued by poor sanitation and frequent floods. The area, part of Old Frog’s Hollow, was infamous for its squalor, and medical reports described it as a breeding ground for disease. Life in such conditions was unforgiving, especially for someone already battered by years of hardship.
On a sombre April day in 1891, Susan’s story ended as tragically as it had unfolded. At just 28 years old, she died in a cab on her way to the hospital. The official cause was listed as phthisis (tuberculosis) and exhaustion. She was buried at Toowong Cemetery, her grave a silent witness to a life of struggle.
A Legacy of Resilience
Her life may seem like a catalogue of misfortune, but it offers a stark look at the harsh realities faced by women in colonial Brisbane. Susan became a symbol of resilience in a world designed to keep her down. Her story, though steeped in tragedy, reminds us of the strength and grit required to endure in a society that offered women so little.
