Time and again, over the years, I’ve heard stories of a “wild white man” known as Tomahawk Joe who made a name for himself in the Newcastle area in the 1930s as a showman, hurling tomahawks at a target, often accompanied by his female assistant, “Lone Star”. I’ve seen photos of him: tall, gaunt and unshaven, always stern-faced and usually dressed in Wild West gear and holding his trademark tomahawk.
And once, in a bookshop, I even found a copy of a pamphlet written by Joe and apparently published with the assistance of bookshop owner Jim Mann – long well-known as the owner of Mann’s Bookshop in Hunter Street, Newcastle (later to become Rice’s Bookshop).
My former colleague, the late Norm Barney, wrote a piece about Tomahawk Joe in 1995. Norm didn’t have access to the real story of Joseph Baker, as told in the article linked below, so he contented himself with retelling many of the exciting myths Tomahawk Joe circulated about his imaginary history. But some interesting details emerged in Norm’s article. Joe was, for example, a resident of Michael Street, Jesmond, and he promoted himself as a herbalist, selling his remedies door-to-door – along with the booklet outlining his fanciful life story.
The booklet is full of extraordinarily implausible tales, and you can read it here, if you like.
I’ve long had it in mind to make an effort to trace the real story of this larger-than-life figure, who claimed his real name was Kazan Champion and who also claimed an astonishing list of lifetime achievements, including being lost in the Queensland wilderness for six years. Among my sources was to be some material from the personal archives of the late C.K. (Charlie) Thompson, a Newcastle journalist and author who also wrote and performed in plays during the 1930s, sometimes as part of a group known as “Sinclair’s Sparklers” – associated with well-known magician Rex Sinclair. Charlie’s papers show that Tomahawk Joe was a regular performer with the Sparklers.
Norm Barney’s article includes some titbits of information not available elsewhere, such as the remarks of a Mr Tom Bow, who recollected delivering milk every morning to Tomahawk Joe at Jesmond when Tom was just 12. He believed most of the milk was for the showman’s impressive collection of snakes. Norm also interviewed Rex Sinclair, who said Tomahawk Joe was a gentle giant, quietly spoken but very striking to look at. “He had feet like leather and usually went without shoes,” Mr Sinclair recalled. At carnivals and shows he usually did his axe and knife throwing routine with Silver Star, but in performances at local halls he mostly worked alone. His promoter for these engagements was Wallsend bus operator Will Russell, who provided the transport for his small troupe which included a “special orchestra of four”. The troupe travelled as far afield as Nelson Bay and Raymond Terrace, and admission charges were a shilling for adults and sixpence for children.
Mr Sinclair recollected seeing Tomahawk Joe for the last time after the war, at Broadmeadow Station. “He was clean-shaven and well-dressed and at first I didn’t recognise him,” he said.
When I set out to write about Tomahawk Joe, to my delight and surprise, I discovered that I don’t need to do any digging at all to find out the truth about Tomahawk Joe, aka Kazan Champion, aka Joseph Baker. Because somebody has already done it all, and done it superbly!
Sydney-based magician and researcher Kent Blackmore discovered Tomahawk Joe in 2017 and has since then pieced together a practically definitive life-story of this remarkable character. Not surprisingly, the truth about Joe is quite different from the tales spun in his pamphlet, but much more interesting, in my opinion.
Kent has even identified Lone Star as war widow Annie Kirkwood.
You can read the truth about the real Tomahawk Joe at Kent’s website, here
