Dolly Lindrum's recollection
Dolly Lindrum, Walter's niece and devoted curator of the Lindrum legacy.
Source: Walter Lindrum - Billiards Phenomenon (World Billiards)
The Truth of Walter Lindrum's Knighthood
“The knighthood came through for him, and Sir Robert Menzies called him to the Windsor Hotel on a Sunday morning.
He asked him if he was living with his wife, and Walter said, ‘No Sir Robert, I’m getting a divorce.’
And he said, ‘Well, I’ve got some news for you. The knighthood has come through, but I will not be able to give it to you,’ because in those days the Royal family did not believe in divorce.
But he did say to Walter, ‘Perhaps in five or six years, you will get it — things will change.’
So many letters had gone to government — ‘Why knight other sportsmen and not Walter Lindrum?’ — and not many people realise that was the story.”
Walter Lindrum remains a titan of Australian sporting history, a man whose dominance on the billiards table was so absolute that the rules of the game had to be rewritten to give his opponents a chance. While he was awarded an MBE in 1951 and an OBE in 1958—recognition for his tireless efforts in raising vast sums for charity during the war years—one title remained elusive: a knighthood.
The Price of a Title
Lindrum walked with kings but never lost the common touch. Sir Robert Menzies, a frequent visitor to Walter’s home in Albert Park, eventually arrived with a life-changing offer: a knighthood was his, provided Walter reconcile with his estranged second wife to satisfy the social decorum of the era.
For Walter, this was a non-negotiable line in the sand. Unlike his contemporaries Sir Donald Bradman and Sir Hubert Opperman, who received their titles with the blessing of the establishment, Lindrum chose to chart his own course. While Australia Post eventually honoured him with commemorative stamps alongside Bradman, Walter’s refusal to ‘perform’ a happy marriage for the sake of an honour cost him the official title of ‘Sir’.
A Heart Left in 1929
Walter’s refusal was rooted in a deep, enduring loyalty to his first wife, Rose Ellen Coates. Known as ‘Rosie’, she was the great love of his life. Their story remains one of the most poignant tragedies in sporting history.
In August 1929, Rosie travelled from Melbourne to Sydney to watch Walter, Australia’s unrivalled billiards champion, face the legendary UK World Champion Willie Smith. She fell gravely ill during the trip, but even as her health failed, she insisted Walter continue the match. On the night of 22 August, playing under immense emotional strain, Walter recorded a staggering break of 2,002; he later admitted he could barely see the balls.
The match was abandoned so Walter could be at her side. With time running out, he arranged for a priest to perform an emergency bedside ceremony. On 23 August 1929, they were wed; Rosie’s faint, fragile signature reflected her failing strength. Tragically, just hours later, she passed away from heart failure at 21. Though Walter would marry twice more, his heart never truly recovered. Rosie’s final resting place carries the Lindrum name at the foot of her grave—a silent testament to a bond that a knighthood could never replace.
A Legacy Beyond the Title
Had Rosie lived, there is little doubt that Walter would have become Sir Walter Lindrum. In today’s world, where equality and inclusion are at the forefront of the honours system, the circumstances of a divorce would no longer be a barrier to recognition.
Even without the formal prefix, Lindrum’s legacy remains unmatched. Bradman himself believed that Lindrum was more dominant in billiards than he ever was in cricket. When we look back at the Depression-era icons who gave Australia hope, Walter Lindrum stands tall—not just for his 57 world records, but for a level of personal integrity that placed love and truth above the highest honours of the State.
