The returning boomerang is one of the most famous objects from the Indigenous Australian culture. ‘Marvellous’ George John Noble, whose Aboriginal name was Ooloogan, was a brilliant exponent of the art of the returning boomerang. For a time he lived at Minnamurra and toured the countryside performing at various venues. Here are Clive

Emery’s memories of meeting the famous man at the Nowra Show in 1925.

In 1925 Dad took Mother and I to see the Nowra Show. Dad enjoyed the local shows, and would meander among the exhibitors. He seemed to know most of them and greeted men dressed in suits and hats with waistcoats adorned with silver chains. A lot smoked pipes, or had the bowl of one protruding from their vest pocket.

There was music and colour everywhere, and Dad wanted to watch the ring events, where some sixty horses performed before the judges and men in the ring wore dustcoats with ribbons hanging from their arms. After the judging they handed the ribbons to the judge and he fastened them round the neck of the winning horses. There was movement everywhere, with the ladies raising their ornamental parasols to shield the sun.

It was by accident that I noticed an Aboriginal fellow sitting cross-legged on an old blanket just inside the Arris-railed fence circumnavigating the show-ring.

Beside him lay an old sugar-bag tied with a frayed hempen rope, and at his feet lay an assortment of boomerangs, shaped and ornamented in a range of colours, mostly ochre and charcoal. The timber was a reddish colour and likely sourced locally. 

He was probably 50, it was hard to tell. His dark eyes twinkled beneath heavy brows and a bushy beard, now greying, covered the greater part of his face, but not the lines spreading from his eyes.

His nose was broad and flat and the veins stood out on the hand that held a clay pipe, brought to his lips from time to time to draw contentedly upon the weed. When he smiled, as he did to the children, his teeth were stained from the tobacco smoke. 

We were fascinated and he seemed to enjoy our interest and speaking to us kindly. He held out his hand for us to take, but no one was game enough to take hold of it. Our attention turned to a dozen boomerangs lying at his feet. Noting this, he picked one up and offered it to us to hold. It was heavy, crescent-shaped, and bore many strange markings which we didn't understand. One horn of the crescent was longer than the other. We handed it back, not knowing what to say to the old man, but not before one game fellow aimed it at the sky, as if to throw it in the air but did not do so and cheerfully laid it on the pile. This caused the old fellow to smile once more, and murmur a song quite incomprehensible to any of us.

Our curiosity satisfied we returned to our respective parents. The Show was in progress on the hot, but pleasant day, and once the mornings judging of livestock was completed exhibitors and spectators alike all enjoyed a picnic lunch. The ring events were still in progress, the horses paraded before the judges while officials with their coloured ribbons moved among the throng. Finally, there was a lull. As it was approaching 1pm it was probably time for Member for Wollondilly Mark Morton to open the Show, Dad said.

At that moment I observed the old fellow entering the ring and pointed excitedly to draw my father's attention.

'Oh, that's old Marvellous,' he said, 'I believe he's going to give us an exhibition of boomerang throwing later. Keep an eye on him for me, I'd like to see it too. They say he is terrific!'

My eyes were glued to the old fellow once more, and I noticed people were leaving their seats and gathering in a rough circle around him. I encouraged Dad to come closer with me to see what was going to happen. He agreed and took my hand and we joined perhaps more than a hundred fellows and kids around the old fellow standing on his blanket amid the pile of boomerangs.  

I had not realised how tattered the clothing was until I saw Marvellous standing up and I felt sorry for him, saying to my father ‘it is a pity he did not have some nice clothes to wear’. He reminded me that the blackfellows were mostly dressed like that, and that they did not have any clothing at all when the first white men came to Australia. But he felt sure he would be able to buy some after his boomerang-throwing.

For my benefit we moved in quite close to the old chap, who had commenced singing a song, and the only word I could understand was 'Marvellous'. He seemed to repeat it so often I thought he must have been singing about himself.

Suddenly he bent down to select a boomerang from the collection while he was applauded for the song. He took up a stance on his blanket and cast the boomerang into the air toward the farthest point of the arena. The gyrations of the object were fascinating - it whirled, rose up, came down within inches of the ground, rose up once more and floated like a bird hovering above the crowd to drop on the blanket at his feet! The applause was tumultuous, and coins of all denominations were showered onto his blanket by the crowd. Dad gave me two shillings to put on the blanket, and I was proud to do so.

There was another song about Marvellous before two boomerangs were selected from the collection. Standing there Marvellous hurled each of them into the air. For the next fifteen seconds the crowd stood transfixed as the two objects took different trajectories after their propulsion and seemed to vie with each other in the number of circles and convolutions before returning to the blanket within seconds of each other! There was a roar of approval and the crowd around the ringside joined in.

Another shower of coins fell with the others on the blanket, more coins than I had ever seen in my whole life, and I was pleased for him, for he would now be able to buy some nice clothes!

His exhibition was now over, for the stewards were recalling the entrants into the arena to continue with the judging, and Marvellous would have to move out.

I was sad, I would have liked to have seen him throw his boomerangs once more. He probably did the following day, but we would not be there.

He packed his boomerangs into his bag and rolled up his blanket and melted into the crowd. My heart went with him, and hoped I would see him another day. It was never to be!

Nowra Show 2025 will be held from February 7-8.