Relic Custodians Australia

Can't say I've ever dug a bottle of He**in before!

This bottle is a remarkable survivor from the early patent medicine era. Embossed “Glyco-He**in (Smith)” on the shoulder and “Martin H. Smith Co. Chemists, New York” on the base, it represents a fascinating chapter in pharmaceutical history. Originally marketed as a cough remedy in the late 1800s and early 1900s, Glyco-He**in was part of the search for a supposedly safer alternative to morphine — before the dangers of he**in were fully understood. As drug regulations tightened in the early 20th century, products like this were forced to adapt. Glyco-He**in was later renamed “Glykeron” in an attempt to sound more medically acceptable, despite still containing he**in derivatives. The passing of the Harrison Narcotics Tax Act in 1914 marked the beginning of strict control over these substances and signalled the end of an era for many patent medicines. Examples of these bottles are becoming increasingly difficult to find, especially in such well-preserved condition. With its rich amber glass, crisp embossing, and connection to a unique period in medical history, it stands as both a rare collectible and a reminder of how much medicine has changed over time.

"I am the Lizard king I can do anything." Jim Morrison.
These are a hard to find bottle, but I've managed two in the last couple of weeks. They follow you around apparently.

Here's some of the other finds from a recent dig. Some nice variety with some unusual bits. The Mr. Pecksniff thing is weird. I know he's a character from one of Charles Dickens' novels but I'm not sure exactly what it would have been. It's not broken but looks to have had another piece to it. These strange finds seem to follow me!

How cool is this bisque mantle figure, a rare gem to find complete hidden among 1920s rubbish. Geez, he scrubbed up okay.

Ah the gods must be testing me! I thought I was into some money for a second, it would really come in handy right now.

Sometimes history really does find its way home.

“Hi, here’s a WW1 Victory Medal I found yesterday Pte J. Docherty 9097 AIF. I’m having trouble finding him, though.”

This simple message I sent to the president of the Geraldton Historical Society Inc was how this remarkable story began. Within a couple of hours, military records, migration documents and family history research had started to piece together the journey behind the medal.

Private John Docherty, Service Number 9097, served with the 8th Battalion of the Cameronians (Scottish Rifles). He was killed in action at Gallipoli on 28 June 1915 at just 34 years of age. John is commemorated on the Helles Memorial in Turkey and left behind his wife, Catherine and their four daughters at 7 McFarlan’s Street, Springburn, Glasgow.

The real mystery was how his WW1 Victory Medal had ended up buried in a paddock near Quellington, Western Australia.

Then came the breakthrough.

A passenger record for the ship Largs Bay, arriving at Fremantle in June 1947. The record revealed that John Docherty’s daughter, Mary, was travelling to Western Australia with her children, Margaret and William. Their destination was listed as “Iron Bark”, Burgess Siding, via York, Western Australia — directly linking the family to the exact area where I had uncovered the medal.
Suddenly, the story made sense. Somewhere during the family’s time at Ironbark Farm, the medal was lost and remained hidden in the ground for decades until I uncovered it while metal detecting.

Once the family line had been traced, the Geraldton Historical Society was able to put me in contact with Jason, the great great grandson of John Docherty. The medal has now safely been returned to the family where it belongs.For the family, the return of the medal has sparked a renewed interest in their history and connection to John Docherty’s story. For all involved, it has been a wonderful reminder that even the smallest artefacts can carry extraordinary journeys across generations and across the world.

What was once believed lost forever has finally found its way home again, reconnecting a family with a piece of their own story, and to be part of this is a privilege.

Well, I can't say I've ever seen anything like this before. It looks like a heraldic buckle likely dating to the 1860s. I wonder if it was perhaps once painted to represent a certain colonial family. I guess we'll never know. More photos are in the comments.

It's been a while between doggies. A nice clean example of a pretty common locality according to the collectors, but hey, it's better than a kick in the teeth, I reckon.

The Western Australian town of Meckering was struck by an earthquake on the Queens birthday, the 14th of October 1968. The earthquake occurred at 10:58am, with a moment magnitude of 6.5 and a maximum Mercalli intensity of IX (Violent). The total damage amounted to $2.2 million with 28 people injured.

The self-proclaimed professor.

Time for a little history lesson. For those of you who find these treasures we find interesting here's a compilation of some of the Holloway's ointment relics we've dug up over the years; although most variants are reasonably common, they still hold a very special place in the collection. Professor Holloway's Ointment was a phenomenally popular 19th-century cure-all patent medicine created around 1837 in London by Thomas Holloway. Marketed as a remedy for skin ailments, gout, rheumatism, and even sore breasts, it gained worldwide fame through massive advertising expenditure like copper tokens, and distinctive packaging in stoneware pots featuring the goddess Hygeia (Greek goddess of health) and the demigod Telephorus. Holloway was not a medical professional but he used the title 'Professor' to gain credibility as a 'snake-oil' salesman. Holloway was a pioneer in advertising, spending roughly £5,000 in 1842 and increasing to over £60,000 by the 1860s, turning his company into a global empire by the 1850s. By the mid-to-late 1800s, it was a household name across the British Empire, including Australia and the United States. 19th-century analyses, including one by The Lancet in 1863, found ingredients such as white wax, yellow wax, hog's lard, turpentine and o***m. The massive success of the ointment and pills made Holloway one of the richest men in England. He used his profits to found Royal Holloway College and the Holloway Sanatorium, which opened in the 1880s. Thomas Holloway died in 1883, but his products continued to be sold into the early 20th century. His legacy still lives on through the relics we dig up today.