Farewell John BRONC Bradshaw, RIP Old Mate
3 April 1942 – 17 May 2025 (83 years)

It is with a heavy heart that I share the final story of our good mate Bronc, a pivotal player in the creation of Glenhaughton Ringers and Taroom Tales. Heaven has gained yet another unforgettable character, a top bloke, and a whole library of Taroom history. Life will never be the same again.

An extract from Bronc’s Eulogy (written by daughter Emily, delivered by brother-in-law Graham) and the Glenhaughton Ringers Tribute (compiled and delivered by Leesa Bongers) was published in the Taroom Tidings, September 2026 as follows:

John Irwin Bradshaw, affectionately known as “Bronc”, was one of a kind and will be greatly missed by all who knew him. Bronc’s life celebration honoured the spirit of a man who lived life to the fullest. His entertaining life story was interwoven with the land, the bush, livestock, family and mates from all corners of Australia and around the world.

The Early Years – Young Johnny Bradshaw

Born 3rd of April 1942, in Killarney, Queensland—the first child of Lance and Frances Bradshaw, Bronc was the eldest of nine siblings: Robert (Mopsy), Margaret, Tommy, Kenny, Kathy, Susan, Helen, and Jennifer. His early years were spent moving through army camps before the Bradshaw family eventually settled in the Taroom district, first at Lilyvale, before moving into a house on Ford Street in Taroom, when his father Lance started working as the local pound keeper.

John began his schooling in the original Taroom schoolhouse, which still stands in the museum grounds, attending until the age of 13. He had hoped to continue on to Gatton Agricultural College, but a broken arm brought those plans to an early end. He admitted he wasn’t particularly interested in school, often distracted by the view out the window. He remembered enjoying the spectacle of Bill Scantlebury entertaining the students with a whip-cracking show outside the watch house – one of his better days at school. He also had a strong dislike for the old pepperina tree in the schoolyard, vividly recalling the sting of the switch across his backside. Still, school was just one small chapter in a much bigger story.

At just five years old John suffered from ear trouble. He was sent alone by train to Redcliffe, where he spent six months living in a boarding house whilst undergoing treatment. A trip like that, at such a young age, is hard to imagine now, but it showed a quiet toughness that would define his life.

5 year old Bronc, with the children he lived with for 6 months at a Redcliffe boarding house (approx 1946/47) [Photo from family archives]

A Drover, Aged 9

At the age of 9, John went on his first droving trip with Bill Kehl—an experience that sparked a lifelong connection with cattle, horses, and the people who lived and worked with both.
He was a keen horseman from the start. He loved his childhood horses, Powderpuff and Vena, although Vena had a wild streak—once shying so badly that John had to throw the bread over the fence on the way home from the bakery. Another time, John and his brother Mopsy, along with Roy Parsons, painted blazes and white socks onto their horses with leftover whitewash from a painting job at the showgrounds. Their father Lance was not impressed.

A Glenhaughton Ringer, Aged 15

By 13, John was droving with Charlie Briggs alongside the likes of Morson Ratz and George Lamb. In 1957, aged 15, his father finally allowed John to take a job as a station hand at Glenhaughton, so beginning his life as a ringer and lifelong friendships. He was a cheeky young bloke, full of life and keen to learn everything there was to know. He’d have a go at anything, and he was a popular addition to the camp.

It was during this period when he was at Belington, an outstation of Glenhaughton, that he was kicked in the face by a horse and later lost his left eye. That didn’t slow him down at all. He could still spot cattle with one sharp eye better than the average two-eyed man. And in later years he could still hit a golf ball, albeit with a spotter to “see where this one goes!”

Bronc loved a challenge, and he genuinely enjoyed a horse that bucked.  He’d take on any horse, especially if nobody else wanted to ride it.  Jimmy McGuire was among those first ringers Bronc mated up with at Glenhaughton, so he learnt a trick or two from some of the best. Getting thrown didn’t bother him, he’d get up laughing and get straight back on.  As a bronc rider, he could really hang up, but contrary to popular belief, that’s not how he earned the nickname. 

Becoming BRONC, how he got the name

Albert Broom from Condamine was about the same age as young Johnny and they were best of mates. They’d argue like brothers, and one day, in the ringers’ dining room, Bronc was winding Albert up – as only Bronc could do.  It progressed to a muck-around scuffle out on the lawn.  Bronco Johnson was a famous “fighter” at the time. He lacked the finesse of a boxer, but he won a lot of fights with his big swinging haymakers.
Such was the style of both young Johnny and his mate Albert. 

Phil Morris, one of the older ringers and a noted boxer himself, thought he should  put an end to the scrapping before someone connected.  Laughing, he  pulled them apart, sat them down, and christened Johnny Bradshaw -“BRONCO”, and Albert Broom – “JOHNSON”…and the names just stuck.

Glenhaughton to Neumayer Valley with Dick McCullagh

After a change of management at the end of 1959, Bronc left to work at Reedy Creek along with Glenhaughton’s ex-head stockman Jim Boothe for a short while before moving north to continue working with ex-Glenhaughton manager Dick McCullagh. On his way to Neumayer Valley in the Gulf, Bronc helped drove a mob of Dick’s horses from Theodore to Kajabbi, north of Mt Isa.

Bronc had a taste for competition and became a proud member of the Australian Rough Riders Association.  He rode in local rodeos whenever he could. Some highlights included winning a bull ride at Mt Isa and the steer ride in Mareeba. He also competed in the buck jump and calf roping events throughout North Qld.

Bronc winning a steer ride at Mareeba Rodeo, after leaving Glenhaughton. He was still a teenager. [Photo from the Bradshaw family archives]

After two and a half years up north, he returned to Taroom, worked briefly for the Taroom Shire Council, and then returned to Glenhaughton in 1964, where more lasting friendships were formed.
Bronc was always a joker, and he could always turn a dull job into a fun one. While working for the council, he was assigned to dig a grave with Ronny Morris. After a bit of digging he hit something hard and soon realised they were digging in the wrong place. Without letting on, he swapped the shovel with his mate—who hooked in with gusto and pierced the casket.  Poor Ronny scarcely touched the sides getting out. Needless to say, Bronc was greatly amused.

“Braddy had more lives than a Cat!”

In 1966, he returned to North Queensland to work at Lyndhurst. During an especially wet period, John—known to many up north as “Braddy”—was involved in a serious tractor accident and suffered a broken pelvis. This man surely had nine lives. Fortunately for Braddy, the ground was soft from overnight rain, so he wasn’t killed when the tractor fell on him. At the time, it was too wet to drive or land a plane. Luckily an army helicopter was grounded in Cairns and was available to transport a doctor to the station, but it had only two seats. So, they rolled Braddy up in a swag and strapped him to the skids for the flight. Just before take-off, he was handed a glass of whiskey, which he mistook for water. During the flight, he kept banging on the side of the helicopter to get the crew’s attention. The pilot would look out and assure him he was doing well but neither could hear over the roar of the motor, and Bronc was becoming increasingly agitated.  When they landed in Cairns, they discovered he was strapped too close to the exhaust, and he was being roasted the entire flight. The matron greeted him on the tarmac with another glass of whiskey for much needed pain relief. The burns had to be treated before the broken pelvis.

Along came “The Old Girl”

At 28, his life took a new turn when he started working for the Collins family—first for Bruce and Helen at Spring Creek, then for Gerry and Gillian at Rosella Plains. It was at Spring Creek that he met Valmai Wicks— “the Old Girl,” as he affectionately called her, even though she was many years younger. Val had come from a farm in Kingaroy to work as a station housemaid. On 31st July 1971, they were married in Kingaroy.

John and Val’s family began with the birth of Penelope Anne in December 1971, followed by William Lance in April 1973. They returned to Rosella Plains and life took a difficult turn when John badly broke his leg while out riding a young horse that ran him up a sapling. This required multiple surgeries and bone grafts over the next 18 months. When he wasn’t injured, Braddy would compete at Oak Park Races and because of the 11 stone minimum he would sit in a water tank with a raincoat on so he could make the weight.

A Family Man in Taroom

With the beef slump of the mid-70s, the family moved back to Taroom, where John spent the next 18 years working for Harry and Betty Bradshaw at Whitewood. Emily Rebecca was born in February 1979, followed by Amanda Jane in February 1982. This is where he connected with long-time friend Grovesy, and many laughs and jokes were had. Particularly memorable was his inability to babysit his children when they were little. Emily was a bit of a wanderer, so they ingeniously put a cowbell around her neck to locate her easily.

John became part of the Taroom community.

He served as Clerk of the Course and later Clerk of the Scales for the Dawson Jockey Club, receiving Life Membership in 2020. His passion for horses was shared with his children, leading him to serve as President of the Taroom Pony Club. He became an instructor, helped run countless rally days and gymkhanas, and played a key role in hosting the 1994 State Showjumping and Jumping Equitation event. The Pony Club also awarded him Life Membership.

Manuel waiting tables, Jolliffe’s Char Grill at Taroom Hotel

In 1989, John and Val partnered with his brother Kenny and wife Christine to open Jolliffe’s Char Grill in the beer garden behind the Taroom Hotel. They shared plenty of laughs and long nights, taking orders, running meals and John now became known as “Manuel” (trusted sidekick to Basil Faulty). He had a system: on his way to deliver a plate, he’d give the barman a nod for a rum and beer chaser, knock them back, and head back to the kitchen. Val swears he never dropped a single meal. It’s true!

In 1994, John moved on from Whitewood and took a job with Sam Jerrard at Robinson Creek. He spent four years there, driving out in the trusty old grey Toyota and staying the week. In 1998, he joined the Taroom Shire Council on the patching truck and later operated the roller after suffering his first heart attack in 2001. He retired from the council in 2013.

Dad and Dave and many other mates around the globe…

During his time in Taroom, he formed a close friendship with P.O.(David Parry-Okeden) – or as they came to be known within the family, “Dad and Dave”. Many weekends were spent at Alamby mustering, branding, butchering, or riding horses. Retirement didn’t slow him down; he continued mustering with Wes Kallquist, Dave P.O., Johnny Phipps, and Eddie Carmichael. In more recent times he enjoyed trips with Tony Pearce and sometimes Eddie to the Monto and Eidsvold cattle sales. With more free time on his hands, he also joined the Taroom Golf Club, where he enjoyed many rounds on the course. I bet you can picture him during his backswing saying, “Tell me where this one goes…”

Bronc had a great love of fishing, often bobbing a rod in the Dawson River or perhaps being fished out of it himself after a mishap or two. The family recalls one memorable trip in the Territory when he cast his lure—only to send it sailing straight into a tree. Determined to retrieve it, he climbed onto the bow of the boat. That’s when he realised he’d made a mistake—he lost his balance and tumbled into the croc-infested river. He was almost back in the boat before he even hit the water. To this day, he jokes that there’s still a croc out there wearing his glasses!

His lack of formal education did not diminish Bronc’s capacity for learning, and he always had his nose in a book. He was either reading a story or telling a story – and the yarns just flowed out of him.  He had a remarkable memory for history, and he enjoyed bush poetry.  He could still recite every word of Will Ogilvie’s epic “Riding of the Rebel”, off the cuff, in recent years. Bronc’s funny sayings, and way with words just made people laugh. You never parted company with Bronc feeling down.

We remember John who touched so many lives with laughter and good times. He enjoyed the company of good people, of all ages, no matter where they came from. His remarkable memory for recollecting dates and events will be missed, along with his genuine love of people and his knack for storytelling.

Any number of accidents throughout his life could have finished him, but it was never a big deal for Bronc. He just kept rolling along, singing a happy song.  In the quiet moments we will still hear him whistling a tune, picturing him at his final mustering camp, throwing bulls, telling yarns, and laughing with all those great mates who’ve gone before.

[Footnote:  A few of Bronc’s yarns have been recorded recently in short stories, movies, podcasts, and reels – on Facebook pages Glenhaughton Ringers, and Taroom Tales. For links to everything, follow the links on www.taroomtales.com ]