A Legacy of Innovation and Hospitality
Standing on the front deck of the watering hole he transformed into an outback icon, Stephen “Burnsie” Burns leans on the shoulders of Tom Leggett. After 24 years at the helm of the Nindigully Pub, Burnsie is leasing the business to the 39-year-old navy veteran. During his time calling the shots, Burnsie made it his mission to turn the Gully, about 500 kilometres west of Brisbane, into a must-visit tourism destination.
This proved to be a smart business model for a town with just nine permanent residents. The venue’s position on the bank of the Moonie River, free camping, country music events, oversized meals, and commitment to genuine hospitality have seen it win multiple tourism awards, including Queensland’s best outback pub in 2019.
A Journey from Disrepair to Destination
Reflecting on his time at the helm, the former Sunshine Coast builder said he never planned on owning a pub “in the middle of nowhere.” “I bought it emotionally, because I loved the pub,” Burnsie said. “The river, the Australian architecture.”
He recalled the state the building was in in 2002 a little less fondly. “It was a heap of shit,” Burnsie said. “The worst pub you ever walked into.” His brother, with whom he shared a construction business, laughed at the purchase at the time. “He said, ‘I can’t believe you bought a pissant pub in the middle of nowhere for the amount of money you make in a year.'” He replied, “Life’s not always about money.”
Over the years, Burnsie reconstructed the flooring, rebuilt the bar and kitchen, replaced the old plumbing, and, perhaps most notably, painted the exterior several times. The pub was painted pink in 2012 to raise money and awareness for breast cancer, a cause close to Burnsie’s heart after losing two wives to cancer during his time as owner.
The Influence of a Partner
Burnsie said his second wife, Deb, was the driving force behind the resurgence of the Nindigully Pub. “It never really did anything until she got here,” he said. As well as being the energy and intelligence behind the operation, Burnsie credited Deb with reining in some of his more outlandish ideas.
“I wanted to do V8 super cow racing, long-neck Indian duck racing, esky racing with little motors on the back,” he said. “She said, ‘That’s stupid — people will get hurt.’ About half the ideas she’d say no to — but then you’d get a yes and we’d run with the yeses.”
One of those ideas became the pub’s flagship annual event, the Nindigully Pig Races, which now attracts thousands of visitors and has raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for the Royal Flying Doctor Service. Deb died four years ago, but her presence remains strongly felt. Her name appears on the licence board above the threshold, her photograph hangs in the bar, and she rests in a rose garden on the pub’s grounds.
A New Chapter
Burnsie said Deb was the reason he stayed on for so long. “We worked together on a plan of what we wanted to achieve, particularly in the beer garden,” he said. “What you see now is what we wanted to get to.” He said he was not prepared to lease or step away from the establishment until that vision had been completed.
With Deb’s dream realised, Burnsie has handed over the reins to Mr. Leggett, who first arrived as a patron. “I made the mistake of fixing something and became friends with Burnsie,” Mr. Leggett said. After repairing a broken quad bike, Mr. Leggett was invited to stay on longer, eventually becoming Burnsie’s “apprentice.”
Two years later, after some hard work and a deep dive into the business figures, he took over the lease. Mr. Leggett, who spent eight years in the navy and is a qualified diesel mechanic and electrical fitter, admits running the pub wasn’t on his “bucket list,” but that didn’t dampen his enthusiasm. “I’ve got big goals but they’re probably a next-year problem,” he said.
Mr. Leggett said he shared the same reverence for the venue as its long-time publican. “It’s like no other place on earth,” he said.
A New Beginning
As for Burnsie, he plans to spend his retirement with his V8 cars and growing collection of motorcycles at the house he built behind the pub. When asked about the future, his answer was characteristically blunt. “I’ll be dead in five years,” he said.
