For years I watched him wander the streets of Newcastle. He was old, small and stooped. He was unshaven, unkempt, grimy and ragged. He wore dark trousers and a dark hooded jacket that covered his head. As days and weeks passed his trousers seemed to practically erode from his body, becoming more and more tattered until eventually they were nothing but strips of rag hanging from a waistband. Every now and then he would vanish from the streets for a day or two before re-appearing in a new outfit when the process would begin again.
Most days you’d see him shuffling along the long footpaths of Hunter Street, sometimes wandering across roads and forcing cars to stop for him as he slowly pressed on, his eyes always downcast. Once or twice over the years I caught his eye as I passed him on the footpath but he always looked away quickly. I often saw him scavenge cigarette butts from the ground and sometimes he took an interest in rubbish bins.
Unlike other street-dwellers, he never begged for money. He never made any pretence of “busking” and he seemed completely uninterested in interacting with other people at all. Unlike other hoboes he was remarkably consistent. He didn’t move away from the city centre. He was a civic fixture and in a strange way he became almost sacrosanct. He was certainly iconic, to the extent that a local band – I think their name was “Labchimp” – once used his image on a poster. I recall there was a backlash of sorts against this perceived slight against the city’s trademark hobo.
I was a writer at The Newcastle Herald for a few decades – from 1984 to 2015 – and one day I decided to write about this man of the streets. The reader response to that column was remarkably strong. Many people got in touch to talk about him and to share their experiences of him. Most accounts described him gruffly rebuffing attempts at contact or conversation. Some persistent people talked about how they tried to give him food or money, only to have him refuse and turn away. A few of those people tried harder, evolving schemes to place gifts on bins or steps 50 metres or so in front of him, where he would find them and pick them up. Anonymous gifts were acceptable to him, it seemed.
Endless orbit of the streets
I didn’t find out who was occasionally taking him off the street and renewing his ragged outfits, but I was regaled with tales – all speculative – of his supposed background. Some said he was a former scientist whose family had been killed in an accident. Other stories had similar elements but none were in any way completely convincing. The reaction to the column died down and things went back to normal, with the old man still tracing his seemingly endless orbit around the city’s streets. After I left the paper I didn’t go into town very much any more and the old hobo drifted out of my knowledge.
But then, in late 2023, my former journalistic colleague Matthew Kelly told me how a charity worker had come into the Herald office with a story about the old man. The charity worker was John Cross, the director of a charity called City Sleep Safe – and he had a scoop for Matthew. Over some years John Cross had been steadily building a relationship of trust with the old man (whom he called “Old Pete”), giving him money now and then and generally taking an interest in his welfare. Eventually he was able to take him to some welfare authorities who, with difficulty, were able to discover his name and background. You can read Matthew’s story here.
Matthew’s story excited me greatly. At long last the old man of the streets had a name: Alwyn Melville Craig – born in Lithgow, NSW, in 1948. I wanted to do something with this information, but what? There was scarcely enough material for a blog post, and I didn’t even have a photo I could use. Then I mentioned the story to my friend Phil Voysey, who gave me a photo he’d taken some years ago of old Alwyn wandering along the street. With Phil’s permission I used the photo alongside a brief item in one of the sporadic newsletters I send to a thousand or so subscribers who have signed up to be kept informed of my blogging and publishing activities. It turned out to be a great and fateful move. Because Matthew’s article was only accessible to paying Herald subscribers it was unfortunately quite limited in its reach, so people who might have known about Alwyn’s earlier life were unlikely to find it behind the paywall.
That’s where fate stepped in. One of the subscribers to my newsletter was Felicity Patrick, a former Novocastrian now living in Florida, USA. Having been in Newcastle for some years in her youth, Felicity was familiar with the sight of the tattered old man on the city’s streets. But that wasn’t the amazing part. Felicity – who was adopted – had done a DNA test a couple of years ago to try to piece together her biological family tree. When she saw the old man’s name – “Alwyn Melville Craig” – she recognised it from her family history research. Here is the amazing part: Alwyn is her biological uncle! Felicity immediately contacted members of her biological family in Sydney and passed on the information. She also found my contact details from my website and sent me a message via Facebook: “I want to thank you about putting that story ‘A Noted Novacastrian’ on there, the one about the homeless guy Pete… I can happily say he has been found by his family who have been looking for 30 yrs for him. As we speak his brother is driving to see him. The family thinks that he won’t come home with them but with the link to the Newcastle Herald they were able to get in touch with someone who knows Alli ‘Pete’ well … they are going to approach him and subtly approach the subject of his brother being here. He may not go back with him but at least they know where he is and if need be, get in touch with Alli through the 2nd person. They are so excited to find him again,” she told me. “Still can’t believe that I remember him when I used to go to Newcastle to think I was walking past my uncle and I didn’t even know it.”

I passed this amazing information to Matthew at The Herald, but Alwyn’s family members in Sydney had moved even faster, getting access to the Herald article and contacting the charity worker who had uncovered Alwyn’s identity. Naturally Matthew had also been tipped off, so what I passed on wasn’t news to him. The story developed rapidly from there. Mr Cross had already managed to get a pension for Alwyn, but when it emerged that he was a veteran of the Vietnam War the RSL got involved and Alwyn also received his war service medals, an apartment in Newcastle’s East End, a veteran’s gold health card, an aged care package and extra funds on top of his regular pension.
Some really heartening things emerged from the story. It was marvellous to learn how so many people had been contributing to Alwyn’s welfare during his years on the street. Some charity workers had regularly given him shoes and cared for his feet. One man had built him a little locker at the arcade where he habitually slept. A woman had given him regular money for food. Cafes had given him coffee and food – when he was willing to accept it. Even the police had apparently intervened to stop a gang of thugs harassing him. The other heartening thing was that Felicity, over in Florida, was warmly accepted by members of her biological family – many of whom were grateful for her fateful intervention. Also wonderful was that Matthew Kelly received a Walkley Award for his articles chronicling the extraordinary rehabilitation of Alwyn Craig.
My only reservation about this remarkable story is that – for some people – it seems as if the revelation of Alwyn’s war service was the critical factor in rediscovering his “worthiness”. Without the slightest shred of disrespect to anybody at all, part of me can’t help being a little sorry that the rapid deployment of valuable social services that eventually occurred in this case (after 30 years, remember) can’t happen for other people just as damaged and needy as Alwyn. Alwyn deserves every benefit that has belatedly come his way, but so do many other people in equally parlous situations.
Ultimately though, I’m overjoyed at the outcome for this remarkable long-time survivor of the streets of Newcastle and thrilled beyond measure at having had the opportunity to play a role in bringing it about.

Grateful for the role played by the charity City Sleep Safe in keeping Alwyn alive and safe during his decades on the street, his niece Sandy Guido (pictured above with Alwyn shortly after his rediscovery) is running a GoFundMe page to raise funds for the charity. Click the image below to visit the page and donate.

Hi Greg… must say I enjoyed this article… nice to see your updates. Take care