THIS is the urban myth that proved true. But it seems there was no happy ending for Hector, Lismore’s neighbourly crocodile.
Hector, a child of the 1960s, has passed into the annals of North Coast popular history, but he — or was it she? — has been given a new lease on life through the interest of restaurateurs Ken Byrnes and Kim Mortimer.
The father and daughter partnership recently launched their new eatery on the banks of the Wilsons River in Lismore. They named it Hector’s Place in honour of the laid-back reptile who was wont to sun himself on the nearby riverbank during a few brief years in the late 60s and early 70s.
Ken and Kim recently asked the public to come forward with stories of Hector, and were over whelmed with the response.
It seems many people around at that time have a Hector story, whether it be falling off a water ski in view of the sunbathing croc, or trying to attract his attention by throwing sandwiches as he floated on the tide.
Most intriguing is the possibility that there was more than one crocodile hanging around the local waterways during that time.
Talk to locals and you get a quiet chuckle about how Hector, a harmless — unless you were a fish or an egret — Johnston’s River crocodile arrived in the first place.
No-one will name names, at least not for publication, but there are three major theories.
First theory is that Hector escaped from a travelling reptile Show at Colemans Point (near the police station) in 1967.
Second, and here we’re on touchy ground, is a story that a plant nursery had a display of young crocs which ‘found their way’ into the river.
Third — and now we’re really into hush-hush territory — is the verified existence of young crocs in a tank in a backyard near the river. Thirty years later, former neighbours chuckle: “You’re on the right track, but we’d better not say too much.”
Even more mysterious is how Hector suddenly disappeared some time between 1972 and 1974. But more about that later.
Hector’s story starts about 1969 when John Smith bought the cream boat plying the river between Coraki and Lismore.
“A bloke told me he’d seen a croc hanging around the South Gundurimba area,” John said yesterday from his Coraki engineering works.
“Then we saw him.”
John has two photographs of Hector and remembers him as a docile creature, about 2.5 metres, who wasn’t fussed about public attention.
“You could nose the cream boat right up to him and he’d just stop there. He was never aggressive. People used to throw sandwiches down to him, but he’d ignore them.”
Hector’s dietary interests lay elsewhere.
There were plenty of fish in the river, and the occasional pile of egret feathers on the banks near the old power station at South Lismore revealed he had a varied palate.
It’s just possible too that the odd dog may have been on the menu.
Since arousing people’s memories, Ken Byrnes has become convinced there was more than one croc around.
He has a map on the restaurant wall studded with pins showing the locations and frequencies of croc sightings.
The pins range along the Wilsons River from Wyrallah, south of Lismore, north to near the turf club, and up Leycester Creek, which joins the Wilsons from the west.
“I reckon if you look at those two pictures, they’re different animals; one’s much younger.
“Also, the range of sightings suggests more crocs,” he said.
When Ken and Kim launched their restaurant, they invited everyone with a Hector sighting. Even Kim remembers as a child being warned not to swim in the Lismore Lake.
“The water was warmer in the lake, and Hector liked to spend winter there,” she said.
The town grew fond of Hector, and the Lismore City Council passed a resolution to net Hector in the lake and relocate him to Fleahey’s sanctuary at Burleigh Heads.
But nothing came of it, and abruptly, sightings of Hector ceased about 1972.
So what became of him?
Depending who you talk to, you’ll hear that he was probably washed away in the big flood of ‘74.
But someone else will say that Hector was shot, and on examination was found to be female.
with the map showing locations of Hector sightings.
They’ll also tell you they know who did it.
That person is apparently still around, and, well, Lismore’s a small town in many ways.
So Lismore’s tame croc lives on in 30-year-old memories, and also down at Hector’s Place, where Ken’s crocodile memorabilia hangs on the wall near Kim’s Matisse prints.
PS: Is croc on the menu? “I’ll say!” Ken and Kim chorus.
“It’s one of our most popular dishes.”