Journalist Allan Fleming from the Sunday Mail called upon Wizard Smith to interview him about his life's work in February 1939. Interestingly Mr. Fleming strolled further up the street the same day to interview Uhl's Saddlery.

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The needle, the awl, and the razor-edged knife are not as busy as they used to be. The number of deft-fingered craftsmen who pull the black waxed threads through saddles and harness in the making is dwindling. But there are still horses and riders, and while there are horses and riders there will be saddlers. The ranks of the Brisbane saddlers, though depleted, are probably as lusty as those of any country.

BRISBANE craftsmen, as influential arbiters of fashion, are the Schiaparellia of the horsey world. The influence of their saddle designs is not confined to Queensland and the States of Australia

Someday soon one of the saddles in the first picture, taken in a Brisbane saddler's shop, may be bearing a long limbed stockman on the first stage of a droving journey half way across Australia. In the second picture the horse has not really come in to select his own harness — he is just a dummy that used to wear the latest harness he models in the shop.

Among them you can find a man who made a saddle that carried Haile Selassie, former Emperor of Abyssinia, in the midst of the Ethiopian war drama; you can find men who have sent saddles to North Borneo, Rhodesia, Ceylon, England, and the Argentine. You can hear fascinating tales of the grand old days when hansom cabs and coach harness had to be attended to as often as saddles. There are tales of the big men of the outback. One saddler has a vivid memory of the day he saw a man enter his shop wearing an old felt hat, and looking as If he 'wasn't worth two bob.' 'I want to buy a saddle,' said the stranger. 'Yes. Would you like to look over them?' 'Mmm. This one will do. How much? Sounds a bit too dear. Well, I'll take a dozen, anyhow.' 'A dozen?' 'Yes. Is my credit good? , . .' 'Well, er, I . . .' 'My name is Kidman.' The saddler managed to cover his surprise neatly. 'Yes, 'Yes, Mr. Kidman, your credit is good— as long as you don't want to order more than 50,000, of course.'

2/6 A Week

One of Brisbane's oldest and best-known craftsmen W.A. Wizard Smith was at work. Pieces of leather lay about the room, straps hung from hooks, riderless saddles bestrode wooden horses. The three sections of a plumber's bag lay on the table 'ready to be assembled. 'I can yarn while I sew this,' he said. 'I can do it -without thinking now.'  He took two threads shining with beeswax, threaded them on their needles, pushed his awl through the leather, and the work began. The fingers flashed out and in, as the thread was pulled through, jerked tight, and pushed through again. His tongue was thrust out to give emphasis to a tightening tug.

If the honk of cars outside had been the neigh of horses, and if the rattle of trams had been the creaking of bullock waggons, the picture might have been 70 or 80 years old. 'When I was a boy I went to work for half a crown a week.' he said. 'And I worked 10 hours a day. We had no holiday on Saturday afternoon. 'Leather was about 9d. per 1b. then. Now it goes up to 3/6 per lb. People say they don't get much for their hides. But they forget that all hides are not fit for the tanner. Many of them are too scarred. You can't use scarred leather in a saddle.'

'Old Timers'

He gave the thread a firm tug as it reached the end of a seam, and began to talk of the old days when he was a young tradesman travelling out West. Tradesmen might have to mend a bellows in a blacksmith's shop, put leather on the shafts of a hansom cab, or mend leather dashboards. Everything was hand sewn. Those days had gone. When he was on the Georgina and out Charleville way a drover would often come in with 100 horses in his plant. There might be 30 riding saddles to deal with and dozens of pack saddles. Names of some of the famous old-time drovers . . .

Well, there was Reg. Thompson, Albert Williams, Mr. Woods, Clive Ross, Andy Clarke, Tom Brown, Ted Setatree, Jimmy Laffin, Dougall Cameron, Albert Williams and a companion, he believed, had made one of the most remarkable droving journeys in the history of the West: they travelled across Australia from Western Australia to Queensland. Ah, they were men who knew what a good saddle was, though each had his particular fancy in makes. They wouldn't look at one that didn't have first-class counter-lining to make it comfortable on the horses' backs. They had piles of equipment . . . hobbles, packs. Albert Williams might come into Charleville one day and say that he was taking away 2000 bullocks. 'Better equip my plant,'' he would say. Two years later he would be back again. He would want his plant renovated for the next trip. In those days the drovers would think nothing of spending as much as £100 on their gear, one job he did earned him £96.

Knowing the Niceties

Droving was a gentleman's game now compared to what it used to be. The old-timers could not bring their stock to the nearest railhead because in most places there were no railheads. So they placed a lot of reliance on the saddler who fixed their gear for them. But the man who could pick a saddle and pick it well had not died out, although styles had changed. There might be people owning cars to-day who had never owned a billy goat before, but there were people owning horses who had always owned horses and whose fathers had owned horses. And, in the country, there would always be things that only a horse could do. A genuine bushman would come in and look at a saddle and know whether it was what he wanted without even getting into it. Of course there were a few people who couldn't ride in a spring cart with the tail board up and they mightn't know the niceties of a saddle. In the early days the saddle was flat seated, with snort flaps and low knee pads. But that had all been changed. Now seats were curved, flaps, and knee pads were longer. Saddlery had advanced about 100 per cent.

He agreed that it would be hard to beat saddles made in Queensland. Queenslanders were not the only ones who shopped in the Paris of saddlery. One day a man stepped off a ship from Noumea, came into the city, and bought one of his saddles. A Victorian who had come to Queensland by car dropped in, looked over the saddles, and took one away with him to the South. Orders went beyond Queensland's western border into the Northern Territory and into South Australia, and even Western Australia. Two had gone to New Zealand, and many other inquiries had followed.

For Haile Selassie

But his proudest achievement, was the saddle that left Australia addressed to Djibouti. It was for Haile Selassie, Emperor of Abyssinia. It was a plain riding-saddle, and was made on behalf of Mr. Arnold Wienholt, well-known Queenslander, who went to Abyssinia during the war with Italy. The maker did not know until it was finished that it was destined for the Emperor. Another saddle was made for one of the Emperor's leading generals. 'Mussolini hasn't written for one yet, but you never know,'' said the saddler. 'Anyhow, I'd better finish this bag now,' he added, and in a few minutes the hands were flying to and fro as they had years ago making harness or patching equipment for stockmen out Georgina way.

William 'Wizard' Smith made a name for himself and his saddles. It is unfortunate that nothing has been found in the press as to when Wizard retired from his Queen Street premises, however he may be gone, but his memory is not forgotten.