Mystery solved!

It has been one of Adelaide’s great unsolved mysteries for more than 50 years: just how did an FJ Holden end up dangling from the Uni footbridge above the River Torrens in 1971? 

Now, for the first time, the perpetrators of the University’s greatest Prosh prank can be revealed, by Lumen. 

Breaking their silence, the group of students who successfully carried it out revealed all during a reunion at the bridge earlier this year, sparked by a callout for information in the Autumn 2024 issue of our magazine. 

This story all started in 1970, when a group of engineering students made the first attempt – hoping to suspend a Morris Minor from the bridge – and failed, with the car ending up in the river. In 1971, they recruited new participants to swell their ranks, and the wheels were again in motion. 

The prank was inspired in part by an even earlier famous Prosh moment, at Cambridge University, where in 1963 a 1928 Austin 7 was successfully suspended from the famed Bridge of Sighs. 

Prosh – short for “procession” – has a long and ignoble, more than century-long, tradition at this and many other universities, being a time when students are allowed some latitude to play practical jokes. Students often dress up and march as part of the celebrations, and the fact they have not always been completely sober events is suggested by the fact that the word “prosh” is believed to have been coined as a representation of how an inebriated student might attempt to say “prosheshion”. 

There was no drinking this night though. Well, not too much. Everything had to go like clockwork to avoid detection, and there were a lot of moving parts in play.

How it unfolded 

Piecing together exactly who did what, when, on the night of 6 August 1971 is not as simple as it sounds. Memories tend to shift over time, and contemporaneous accounts were masked by aliases and exaggeration. 

A story in the Adelaide University Engineering Society’s magazine Hysteresis that year, edited by David Gray, was entitled The Suspenders. The author went by the alias Ram Hobson, who can now be revealed to be Hamish Robson.

“All names have been changed to protect the guilty,” it begins. 

“The blue FJ Holden glistens in the light of a full moon as the three youths push frantically against it, searching for a footing on the loose gravel footpath. Slowly the cumbersome vehicle gathers speed, creaking and groaning like a wounded mechanical dinosaur as it lurches onto the grassy slope and heads towards the comforting darkness of the trees. 

“The FJ is rolling quite quickly now, rushing onwards towards its final destination. Mingled with the gasps and puffs from those pushing the car, a sudden urgent command is hissed through the driver’s side window: ‘Left! Turn left!’ 

“I jerk the steering wheel violently and without warning the driver’s door flies open, revealing a momentary blurred glimpse of the ground below. As I reach for the door the seat slides forward, pinning my left knee under the dash panel!” 

Exciting stuff. The reality was, perhaps, slightly less dramatic.

The centre of gravity

Just where the car in question came from is a matter for debate among the men gathered at the Uni footbridge for the reunion. Some believe it was bought, others that it was donated by a fellow student, perhaps a member of the Uni car club. 

Final consensus appears to be that it was in fact bought by electrical engineering student Dean Eckert from a student who advertised it on the University noticeboards. 

In any event, the FJ was too heavy to hang as it was, so it was towed away for modifications by Eckert and mechanical engineering student Alan Palmer. This included removal of the engine and the gearbox, with the parts sold off to help defray the costs. 

“We determined the centre of gravity and made holes in the floor and roof to pass a chain through to a piece of timber under the floor so that the car would hang level when suspended,” Alan remembers. 

“Hooks were welded to each of the corners for attaching the four lifting cables. Lugs were welded to the front bumper for attaching an ‘A’ frame for towing without the need for a driver. 

“Because the car was to be towed at night, the lighting circuits were modified to be powered from the towing vehicle so as not to attract unwanted police attention.” 

Once prepared, the car was towed to a building site in St Peters and stashed. All was in readiness. 

Just after midnight on August 6 the conspirators gathered for a final briefing. Some of those there that night were on the primary crew, others had a role in diverting the attention of police, or as lookouts armed with walkie talkies. 

Once these participants had been despatched, it was time to put the plan into action. The FJ was collected from its hiding spot by Alan Palmer and towed to the University end of the bridge, arriving at a pre-arranged time. The lighting cable was cut, the towing ‘A’ frame removed, and the FJ was pushed down the grassy slopes onto the lower-level gravel path.

How to hang a Holden

Now came the tricky part. How exactly does one quickly and covertly suspend an old car from the middle of a bridge over a river in the dark of night? 

It had taken some puzzling out by the team, and access to the University’s engineering labs. In the end the best idea was, as they often are, genius in its simplicity. 

In an email to Lumen, Ross Patterson (widely accepted as the originator of the pranks both in 1970 and 1971) says: “I don’t recall who finally came up with the very clever and very simple solution. This person deserves the majority of the credit. ‘Just park the car on the footpath under the bridge on the Uni side, then transport it over to the centre.’ 

“My memory tells me that the civil engineering guys arranged the equipment which comprised a workshop floor crane with a spreader beam (to lift, then transport the car on two chains straddling either side of the bridge). This was a nice bit of engineering.” 

Alan Palmer believes it was Dean Eckert who transported the crane in a trailer from the lab to the bridge. The main cable was attached to the chain on the roof of the FJ and two lifting cables at each end of the spreader beam were attached to the hooks at the corner of the FJ. 

Once the car was lifted, the crane was manhandled into place in the centre of the bridge. 

“No-one seems to remember just who it was on the night who was brave enough to go under the bridge to attach the chain from the bridge to the top of the car,” Wayne Groom, then President of the Adelaide University Engineering Society, says. “We’d love to know. It was a gutsy thing to do. 

“In the heat of the moment, things just sort of happened, very quickly, and it’s now hard to recall exactly who was where.” 

When the main cable was attached to the bridge, the crane jib and spreader beam were lowered to transfer the weight of the car to it. The lifting cables were then simply shaken to disengage them from the hooks on the car and the crane was wheeled off the bridge. The FJ was now officially flying. 

What happened next

Once the car was in place, the equipment used was carted away in a waiting trailer and everyone cleared out, not wanting to be caught, and potentially fined. 

In the morning a crowd gathered and a group of Prosh Day enthusiasts decided it would be a great idea to jump up and down on the footbridge and see what happened.

“What happened was fairly obvious,” Hamish Robson says. “We hadn’t engineered the chain for quite that load of stress and, as the bridge wobbled up and down the chain snapped.” For the second year in a row, engineering students had “successfully” landed a car in the Torrens. 

The authorities were notified, anonymously, to ensure Popeye could navigate the river around this new danger to shipping. 

Some years later, the Adelaide City Council came looking for the instigators – they had drained the Torrens for a periodic clean up and wanted someone to foot the bill for dragging the FJ from the mud. They were unsuccessful in finding the perpetrators, who now hope the statute of limitations may have passed, making them safe from prosecution. 

“It was a rite of passage moment for all of us involved,” Wayne Groom says. “We actually learned some valuable lessons about engineering that night, and formed a bond which has kept us together for more than 50 years. 

“We are proud, delighted and a little surprised that this has become an enduring piece of Adelaide folklore and are grateful that Lumen brought us all back together for this story.” 

An amazing coincidence

Eagle-eyed readers may have noticed there are people on top of the footbridge in the famous image of the FJ hanging there, which was snapped by a photographer from The News (then Adelaide’s afternoon tabloid newspaper). 

Many have assumed they were either the people involved, police, or council authorities working out what to do next. In fact, they were bemused pedestrians trying to cross the bridge to get to or from the University who encountered a new obstacle. 

On the same night as the FJ was dangled, it is claimed architecture students also celebrating Prosh welded gates across the footbridge. This was completely separate from the prank unfolding below. This secondary prank blocked the bridge and required pedestrians to either climb over or retreat. 

If anyone remembers that prank, or has further photos, Lumen would love to hear from them.

Written by Mark Douglas, Editor of Lumen.

Images by Photographic Editor Isaac Freeman.

Lumen thanks Wayne Groom, the President of the University’s Engineering Club at the time of the prank, for his help in organising the reunion – and for striking commemorative medallions for the participants.

We also thank alumni Bob Wilkeson and Don Loffler who assisted on the reunion day to arrange a genuine FJ Holden of the right model and colour as a prop, provided by Michael Gilbert and driven by Barry Gaghan, all members of the FJ Holden Club, SA. 

If you have other photos or stories of amazing Prosh Day pranks like this, or other japes and hijinks, we’d love to hear from you (there are rumours about one involving a crocodile!) – please write to lumen@adelaide.edu.au