All I knew was that he seemed a very, very busy man.

The World War I veteran had had his leg amputated in France in 1918 after earlier serving at Gallipoli. But this was only one of the many surprises I discovered concerning this most unusual Newcastle identity when I began delving a little deeper into his life.

Among other things, Dr Champion (1897-1978) was one of Newcastle's best unsung historical detectives, devoting his spare time (when he had any) to compiling a comprehensive record of Hunter Valley pioneers.

His keen interest in local history began soon after he arrived in Newcastle in 1923 and continued for 55 years. Champion had decided to specialise in photographing the births, deaths and marriages columns of the early district newspapers with a 35millimetre camera (pictured). From this, much raw, valuable information could be gleaned, he said.

Information included on the tough times of Newcastle's earliest settlers and convict days was proof of a "terrific" infant mortality rate when contaminated drinking water was pumped from a nearby swamp.

He'd normally set aside a day a week to peruse historical papers before taking an average of 78 film exposures each week. A decade before his death, Champion said he had already amassed a 5000-card index relating to his accumulated print collection.

Champion continued to uncover little known facts about the Newcastle district, but admitted it was a never-ending job.

"Newcastle history is too much for one man to research. You could work on it every day, photographing parts of old local papers and find something new every day," he said.

"And I'm only an amateur," he said, despite contributing research papers to the Newcastle Historical Society and the Royal Australian Historical Society.

In rigorously pursuing his hobby of historical research, Dr Benjamin William Champion always remembered how it started - with an odd drinking toast commemorating a now obscure British invasion in South America in 1806-1807. But more about that shortly.

Champion's exhaustive research of early Newcastle records came from at least eight early Newcastle newspapers, including the then Newcastle Morning Herald. One 'lost' source that particularly interested the Newcastle dental surgeon and historian was three years of bound copies of the early Hunter paper, The Pilot, only discovered in Melbourne in the late 1960s.

None of his historical information was wasted. Newcastle Library's local history section today has a complete set of his 'red books'. Comprising a hefty 22 volumes and known officially as the Hunter Valley Register 1843-1905, it's described as a compilation of "family entries, births, deaths and marriages with some personalities".

In one book, Champion acknowledges "Mrs R.Peattie of the NMH and library staff, though overworked, was always ready to oblige me". And that's where I first met Dr Champion many decades ago when he regularly spent long hours in the archives at the former Herald site in Bolton Street. Here, he'd photograph column after column of musty pages in forgotten papers like The Newcastle Chronicle, searching for clues in past lives "to solve the holes in historical research".

Today, rare copies of his HV register are also held in Australian parliamentary libraries, most university libraries (including Newcastle) and Utah University in the US. Champion was 81 when he died in mid-November 1978. He'd finished the last volume of his mammoth work only weeks before his death.

Now he has another claim to fame. Recently, writer Penny Ferguson edited and launched a book at Newcastle Library on the war tales of the famous Newcastle dentist. Entitled Ben and his Mates, the book contains the war diaries, letters and photographs of Lieutenant Ben Champion Ist AIF, 1915-1920. Ben Champion was Ferguson's beloved grandfather.

After WW1 and losing a leg, young B.W.Champion studied dentistry at Sydney University and came to Newcastle to become one of the earliest members of the International College of Dentists. Later, he helped establish a dental unit at Royal Newcastle Hospital and even wrote a history of RNH.

But what I mostly remember Dr Champion for was his tale of a probably relatively obscure British invasion that sparked wars of independence against Spain throughout South America. In Champion's own words in 1968: "My interest in history went back to 1917 when I heard a most peculiar toast in a (WWI) officers' mess while serving overseas. It was 'success to greybeards, confusion to Whitelocks'."

The toast arose out of a 19th century war in South America involving troops stationed at the early colony of Sydney who were withdrawn to bolster British forces over there. It happened mid-way through the Napoleonic Wars. To gain a trading foothold in South America, Britain invaded Spanish-held Buenos Aires in 1806. Spain was then an ally of France.

An English commander captured the city, but when Spanish forces saw there were no major reinforcements, they re-took the city, so more English soldiers under a General Whitelock were sent to attack it again in 1807.

"His absurd instructions led to all his men being captured and imprisoned - hence the toast," Champion said.

"Incidentally, (former Newcastle University vice-chancellor) Professor James Auchmuty's great, great grandfather was one of the captains of the relieving British ships."

ONE talk at the recent Australian Heritage Festival has revealed an odd new subject for further study. It involves what people once stuffed into the wall cracks of their 19th century timber huts to keep out the winter wind.

The talk was promoted as "Mural archaeology: Mining the hidden wallpaper treasures of Oatlands" (in central Tasmania). It seems that during harsh winters, the poorest inhabitants of the now historic village would plug wall cracks with everything conceivable to keep out the cold. Once glued to timber walls, for example, were butcher's bills, birth and marriage certificates, fabrics and even homework.

These strange 'wallpaper' discoveries, however, can't compare to what's been reported lately from Murwillumbah, in far northern NSW. That's where a woman found a makeshift graveyard in her bathroom wall while renovating. Eight wooden crosses with names, dates (all between 1945-58) and in gold lettering had been dismantled and used as wall braces. The homeowner found them while tearing down the wall near her bedroom.

The unsettling discovery apparently has a simple explanation: earlier thrifty home renovators had recycled the wooden crosses from a graveyard. While the grave markers are all genuine, they were always regarded as temporary until permanent tombstones could be erected. Four of the crosses have been returned to relatives, while the others are to be made into an artwork.

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