Dark Stories is the specialist in hosting True Crime Tours. And presenter of regular live theatre events that touch on dark themes.
Dark Stories True Crime tours operate weekly in Sydney, Brisbane, Newcastle and Maitland. The Sydney True Crime fan will also get to enjoy an extra tour dedicated to the era of the Razor Gangs. The Rocks True Crime Tour is for the tourist as the Razor Gangs True Crime Tour is to the crime aficionado.
You get to revisit the scenes of the crimes. Each story is like a journey back in time. This is your chance to rediscover the secrets of the dark past of the city streets around you.
Dark Stories theatre presentations are Interactive Theatre Productions for an engaging audience experience. The audience member is an active participant in the storyline. Confronting choices remain to critical and have an impact on the conclusion of the story.
Several productions have already delighted audiences. The performance of Confessions of a Serial Killer kept audiences guessing to the end. As did it’s followup Female of the Species.
How To Survive a Zombie Apocalypse allowed audiences to explore their fun side. Very few audience members survived to the end of this comedy seminar.
All Dark Stories theatre productions touch on dark themes. Events take place in engaging environments. The aim is to provide a real mystery for the audience to solve.
Test your wits and your nerve. You’ll need to engage your brain to try and solve these crimes. You might even stay alive as you witness the mystery that takes place around you in real-time.
Make your choice.
Enjoy a Dark Stories walking tour in your city or book in for a gripping Dark Stories theatre production.
The Master Poisoner, an enthralling audio dark story presented by The Online Stage, stands out for its rich, engaging dialogue tinged with creepy, sinister elements, making it one of our top picks.
Adding a layer of intrigue to this macabre production, its co-author Maxwell Bodenheim met a fate strangely mirroring the story’s theme – he was tragically a murder victim.
Maxwell Bodenheim’s life was marked by personal turmoil. His third marriage to Ruth Fagin, who was 28 years his junior, was characterized by a destitute lifestyle, including homelessness and subsistence through panhandling and Ruth’s engagement in prostitution.
This period was marred by incidents of violence. Their lives met a tragic end in 1954 in Manhattan, where they were murdered by Weinberg, a dishwasher they had befriended. The violent altercation occurred in Weinberg’s room when the 62-year-old Bodenheim awoke from a drunken sleep to discover Weinberg and Ruth engaged in intimate activities. Bodenheim challenged Weinberg, and they began fighting. Weinberg shot Bodenheim twice in the chest and proceeded to beat Ruth before stabbing her four times in the back.
Here is an audio extract of The Master Poisoner written by Bodenheim, aka The Kin of Greenwich Village Bohemians, one of the most original dramatists of the early 20th century:-
The Master Poisoner comes courtesy of The Online Stage – producers of numerous AudioBook and Theatre Productions, with a huge range that is free to enjoy!
And as a final epitaph for Bodenheim, his very dark tendencies are on display below in the form of a sample of his dark poetry for your enjoyment.
Death by Maxwell Bodenheim
I shall walk down the road. I shall turn and feel upon my feet The kisses of Death, like scented rain. For Death is a black slave with little silver birds Perched in a sleeping wreath upon his head. He will tell me, his voice like jewels Dropped into a satin bag, How he has tiptoed after me down the road, His heart made a dark whirlpool with longing for me. Then he will graze me with his hands And I shall be one of the sleeping silver birds Between the cold waves of his hair as he tiptoes on.
I shall walk down the road. I shall turn and feel upon my feet The kisses of Death, like scented rain. For Death is a black slave with little silver birds Perched in a sleeping wreath upon his head. He will tell me, his voice like jewels Dropped into a satin bag, How he has tip-toed after me down the road, His heart made a dark whirlpool with longing for me. Then he will graze me with his hands And I shall be one of the sleeping silver birds Between the cold waves of his hair, as he tip-toes on.
Crime history in Australia has a tradition of strong, dominating women ruling over small enclaves of inner-city a brothel and other vice-related activities.
Characters ranging from the famous Molly Morgan of Maitland to Sydneys Razor Gangs War with the infamous arch-rivals Kate Leigh and Tilly Devine, yet Brisbane also had its own high priestess of the night. She plied her trade in the heart of old Brisbane town from the 1870s up until her passing in what was colloquially known as Mother Hogan’s Brothel.
Throughout the 1800s, an area of the Brisbane CBD named Frog Hollow – an apt name as the swampland played host to a large population of frogs – quickly gained a reputation as the seediest part of town. Because the district swiftly flooded during storms, subsequent rents were the cheapest available in the city, leading to it becoming the first red-light district in Brisbane.
Numerous brothels sprung up in this part of town, and by far, the most ill-famed of them all was Mother Hogan’s brothel – an unofficial name that you wouldn’t find in any directory listing. It opened in the 1870s and was around for at least 50-60 years, even surviving the eventual passing of Mother Hogan herself. So, who was Mother Hogan?
As far back as the 1860s, she was a bright young thing going by the name of Mary and living in the town of Wagga. She was once pure and innocent; she once had a fond mother who watched over her and protected her from harm. Yet for 30 years of her life, she conducted one of the most immoral houses to be found on the face of the Australian Continent. Her house was almost as well known as the House of Parliament and had higher attendance than local churches and cathedrals.
Originally in her hometown of Wagga, she completed the pact of marriage, and for a time, her virtuous star shone in a pure blue sky. Then along came Mr. John Hogan – and introduced her to the world of infamy and vice of the most disgraceful kind, and she liked it.
The couple soon became inseparable, arrived in Brisbane together, and they went into business in the Frog Hollow district of the Brisbane CBD. John used to bring along the young lads of the upper-class villas, and Mary’s job was to trot out the wine, woman, and song.
In the year 1889, she became enamoured with an actor from the theatre, and she escaped her seemingly happy life and bolted with him to London, taking with her about £3000. As long as the cash lasted, she revelled in sin and luxury, but as soon as the money ran out, the actor departed and abandoned Mary to her own devices in the grimy streets of London. She was forced to return to her profession in Petticoat Lane to earn some good old-fashioned English coin.
For some inexplicable reasons, John Hogan felt lonely without his Mary and sent her the money that brought her back to Brisbane and once more set her up as the Queen of Mother Hogan’s Brothel.
It was rumoured to be an evil place where one would blush to tell about the things that happened there. Only a few men could describe the racy incidents that occurred from time to time. During its existence, some thousands of girls careered to ruin within its portals, and a number of men were said to become physical and moral wrecks through its agency.
For all her seeming faults, Mother Hogan was considered an honest woman, and no man was ever robbed of a penny when staying in the Hogan Household. Men were beaten and plundered in the Frog Hollow district, but dignity and honour made it difficult for these men to report these crimes lest their reputations suffer.
Mother Hogan’s end came in March 1904 when, at last, she went to meet her God, and as one person put it at the time – hers was a life wasted, having chosen the oldest profession in the world and lived a life of sin and shame.
The funeral itself was a gorgeous affair, with the hearse, the coffin, and the mourning coaches being up to the mark required for a Governor-General.
No local priest would attend the burial, so the services of a missionary man had to be recruited. There were girls in the cortege shedding tears, and a stranger would have thought the body of some pure, virtuous woman was undergoing sanctification rituals on her deposit into the earth. Many pundits thought only that here was a woman who fled with another man from her husband, then started a brothel and lived on its proceeds to the end.
Mother Hogan’s brothel survived her passing and continued to remain in business and, according to locals, remained one of the worst examples of immorality to be found on the face of God’s earth – and was still in vigorous operation through to the 1920s and beyond.
A more in-depth look into Australia’s true criminal history reveals numerous examples to prove that the lucky country has more than had its fair share of tough female crime bosses in the days when it was thought to be impossible.
This story is an excellent example of the effectiveness of the Pistol Licencing Act 1927, which did so much to bring forth the Razor as a weapon in the Razor Gangs wars that were starting to heat up in the Sydney streets.
On the evening of December 28th, 1931, when a man named Roberts approached a young woman, Renie, on William Street. He said that he wanted her to live with him as a “lady of the night”. The business of “white slavery” was thriving in the area at the time, with young women kidnapped and forced to work the streets for various local gangs. Roberts himself was known to police as a small-time underworld figure, under the alias Paddy Reynolds, and for threatening people with a gun or a razor.
Renie just laughed at Roberts, so he drew a revolver, pointed it at her and said: “Either you live with me, or I will shoot you. I will see you here at 6 p.m.” He then jabbed Renie several times with the gun. Renie ran home and told the man she was living with, James White, what had happened. White was a decent man who made his living “selling dolls and little toys to crowds of happy children at every showground”, including each year at Sydney’s Royal Easter Show. When Renie told him what had happened, White said: “I will see the chap that threatened to shoot you.”
The couple met Roberts on the corner of Kirketon Road and William Street just after 6 pm. It was quite busy, with lots of people around. White confronted Roberts: “What is the idea of pulling a gun on this girl?” Roberts replied, “Mind your own business, or I’ll blow your head off.”
White didn’t back down… so Roberts stepped out onto William Street and started firing. Terrified men, women and children scurried away for their lives as White ducked behind a pole for cover. He pulled out his own revolver and shot twice at Roberts, who backed away across Williams Street, firing four shots in quick succession; one of these almost hit Renie, who ducked just in time, the shop window above her head smashing into pieces.
Roberts reached the other side of the street. Blood was streaming from his chest, and he swayed where he stood. White’s gun had jammed, so a constable took him into custody. He calmly handed the gun over, saying, “I have a licence.” Thank goodness for that! On the way to the police station, White said: “Fancy these mongrels coming out and victimising women.”
Meanwhile, another constable had gone to Roberts, who said: “He got me.” Roberts pulled open his coat to reveal a large amount of blood. He was taken to hospital, where he died half an hour later.
At the trial, Renie testified that she had been threatened by shady members of the underworld. On one occasion two of them had forced their way into her flat. “You little copper!” said one. “You don’t think you’re going to give evidence for White, do you? If you do, you’ll cop something for yourself.” Despite this, Renie had bravely taken the stand, and White was found not guilty on grounds of self-defence… in further good news, the timing of his release meant that he was just in time to sell his wares at the Royal Easter Show.
And as for Roberts? Nobody, not even his relatives, said they had any association with him, and after the post-mortem was concluded, no one came forward to collect his body.
But most importantly of all, the Pistol Licences Act had done its job because – just for the record – no one in this case was shot by an unlicensed pistol.
We’re a tad late to the Halloween celebration, but we’re excited to share with you this captivating 12-minute audio production of The Quantum Ghost of Cape Estelle, presented by The Online Stage.
Just press play and immerse yourself in a chilling tale that we hope will thrill more than terrify. Enjoy the eerie journey!
This year’s Halloween special from Dark Stories, ‘The Quantum Ghost of Cape Estelle’ by Peter Tucker, arrives with compliments from our partners at The Online Stage. Known for its wide array of Audiobook and Theatre Productions, The Online Stage generously offers about half of its content for free, adding to the enjoyment of this spooky season tale!
