White colonials, mostly public servants called 'silvertails', were running the place in the latter years of the nineteenth century. Then white labourers and wharfies arrived from down south to build Darwin's railway and meatworks, carve out the roads and construct and man the jetty but these blue-collar workers had to be content with sitting one rung down on the social ladder. The Chinese community, present in greater numbers than the whites, provided both skilled and unskilled labour and ran much of the commercial sector, but they were also well down the social ladder. Below them came the pearl divers and other Asians. Half-castes, often the progeny of the whites, were only tolerated and exploited as a necessary and cheap source of labour and our fullblood indigenous brothers and sisters living in camps scattered throughout the town did not count at all. Change had to come and it did, first through the catalysts of football and the union movement. The social barriers began to break down. It took time and it still wasn't a perfect place to live by the time the second world war arrived. Darwin had only just recovered from years of serious depression and a damaging cyclone when the Japanese bombed the town. Women and children were sent south to safer regions as the army moved in, with American and Dutch forces bolstering the Australian troops and changing again the mix of people living there. The war brought an economic boost to Darwin and it continued to grow and morph into a city after the war. Tourism boomed and the economy strengthened though sadly leaving the original inhabitants lagging behind. Then Cyclone Tracy struck on Christmas Eve in 1974. This is a story of Darwin. A story of determination and resilience, a story of an eclectic mix of people who helped to make the city the vibrant and distinctive place it is today.
