History Matters

Community history is personal history. All history is made up of stories, but the stories of communities, whether they be physical or imagined, occupy a different space than academic books and essays. There is something of a heart to it, to the connections between people that come through far more than the bare facts and statistics.

The Nowra Town Band is one of Australia’s longest continually playing brass bands, coming up on its 140^th anniversary in 2020. It’s something I’ve been involved with since childhood; I joined the program that was run at my primary school at the age of 8 and have been playing with them since. The band is open to anyone, regardless of skill level, and is a staple of many local events around the Shoalhaven.

Much of the band’s history is preserved in photographs, newspaper scraps, and two plastic storage boxes full of miscellaneous documents found on top of a filing cabinet in the storeroom. It’s not that no one wants to preserve the history; there’s just a limited amount of time and resources that can be put towards it. The efforts that have gone into the preservation and organisation of these have been impressive, but are reliant on members using their free time to do so. This has resulted in some great work, done by people out of passion rather than obligation, but there’s only so much that can be done.

When visiting home over the break, I used that time to drop in to the band and work out what we wanted to do. I was shown the boxes of records, containing all sorts of things from 1925 onwards- attendance records, building plans, trustee declarations, a mish-mash of records that one of the members had cleaned out and made sure were stored somewhere carefully. She asked if I could start by scanning them, pointing out that if the hall were to burn down, that nearly one hundred years of records would be lost with it.

As we progress further and further into the digital age, it’s becoming easier to preserve these things, but for small volunteer organisations such as the band it can be hard to find the time and resources to do so.

I was also given a copy of a book put together for the centenary in 1980: Nowra Town Band in the City of Shoalhaven. It’s only short, 60 pages, but it goes through the history of the band from the earliest mention in 1880 through to 1980. It gives a timeline of the band, of major events, competitions, rises and falls in membership, but what made it particularly notable to me was how personal it is. The dates and facts are intertwined with anecdotes from members and photographs, not only professional group shots but candids, infusing it with a sense of compassion that is rare in more academic works.

This is what makes working with the band so important to me. It’s personal to me, of course, having basically grown up in the band, but the nature of the community that has formed over the past 140 years is what makes up the essence of its story. The Nowra Town Band is a 140-year passion project that wouldn’t exist without its members and their families going above and beyond, and that’s what makes it special.

When I returned to the Sydney Jewish Museum last Wednesday, I didn’t think I’d be experiencing my first museum evacuation. As a budding history student and museum worker, I naturally panicked over what objects to save when the overhead speakers blared “Please proceed to the nearest exit.” As I madly scrambled to grab everything from the theatre collection I’ve been studying, I was told to leave it behind and evacuate immediately. I was quite perplexed by the relative calm of all the staff, and the fact that no one was carrying objects that they’d saved.

Later of course I discovered that this is a semi-regular occurrence at SJM, and that every time it’s because someone had burnt their toast. However, as we were standing in the park across the road, I was also struck by the friendliness of all the staff, and their strong bonds with the volunteer survivors.

The Sydney Jewish Museum (SJM) in Darlinghurst was established in 1992 by Holocaust survivors who had created a local Jewish community after emigrating from war-torn Europe. The museum is split into three sections across three levels: Australian Jewry, the Holocaust, and human rights.

What makes the museum unique is their policy of putting voice and living history first. After volunteering there already for six months, and returning almost a year later, I was reminded of the passion of the volunteers and staff, and their dedication to education and remembrance. SJM has several school tours every day, runs regular public events about their exhibitions, and functions on donations rather than funded acquisitions. Their commitment to educating future generations about the horrors of the Holocaust teaches children about empathy and understanding. Additionally, students and adults who visit the museum can witness the testimonies of Holocaust survivors, highlighting the importance of oral history for museums moving forward.

My project with the Sydney Jewish Museum is to complete a virtual exhibition or online collection to be launched with their new Teacher Membership program in late November. The exhibition will centre around the Theatre for Children established by English-Jewish citizen Rosemarie Benjamin in Sydney in 1937. The theatre ran for twenty years, until Benjamin’s death in 1957. The collection includes 25 children’s costumes as well as a small suitcase worth of documents. The collection also includes 13 of the plays edited by Benjamin and performed by the company, photographs, a scrapbook, production logs, and letters from the children. SJM would also like me to type up the scripts so that teachers in regional areas can have access to the plays and perform them at their schools. This will continue their theme of the importance of widespread education, and teaching children about the value of empathy.

My childhood photos are scattered through with pictures of myself and my sisters wrapped up in puffy parkers, comically large goggles and tiny mittens; traipsing around in the snow or traversing tiny “slopes” in tiny skis while our parents watch on. Other photos from these family holidays show us running amok in a cosy, albeit slightly run-down living room, complete with a roaring fire to toast marshmallows on. Some of my fondest memories reside on those snowfields and in that living room.

Since being born, I’ve been lucky enough to have a home away from home – one that I gladly share with about 85 other people. Caloola is a lodge located nearly 500km south-west of Sydney, in the Snowy Mountains.

Nestled in the bowl-shaped valley of Smiggin Holes (or Smiggs, as it is colloquially known), Caloola serves as the home of the Caloola Ski Club, whose website describes it as:

“a non-profit club lodge dedicated to the pursuit of Snow Sports.”

Caloola is mainly made up of Sydney-based families who have all joined via their friendships with the original members. Upon birth I inherited membership through my mum, who in turn inherited membership from her parents, who themselves were close to founding members back in the late 50s, just a few years after they escaped from Croatia (then-Yugoslavia) and started afresh in Sydney.

When I became a fully-fledged member upon turning 18 in 2015, I gained the responsibilities of club maintenance, mainly achieved through summer work parties. Being a rather scrawny individual, I’ve been thinking of ways I can better apply my skills to Caloola. When this unit came along, it was a perfectly serendipitous moment of two worlds colliding as I realised how much I would love to delve into the history of a place where I – and my mum, and in part my grandparents – have grown up.

See, whilst I have grown up at Caloola, there’s a lot that I still don’t know about it. The first person I turned to was my mum, who admitted to me:

“Everyone has different ideas about who did what and how the lodge came to be. There’s no singular, entirely accurate record.”

There are contesting legends surrounding our ski club: who designed the logo, the plaques on each bedroom door, the lodge itself; and how exactly it all came to be. I’ve always heard that Caloola is an Indigenous word (I’m not sure from which nation), meaning High Place. I’ve also always heard that the lodge was born from a group of Northern Beaches-based couples who square danced together in the late 50s.

I’ve never thought to fact-check this – but, as my mum tells me, only two of the original eight members are still alive (or three – she isn’t sure). Now seems like the right time to research our ski club’s rich history, and document the people who brought it to life.

Through this project, I’m hoping to digitise Caloola’s history. My own dear dad created a website for members a few years ago, but it is under-utilised by the membership – nearly all of whom have decided they prefer the Facebook group. I would love to create a new website that is more accessible and appealing to members, and one that contains a more thorough history of the club.

From the moment I considered approaching Caloola for this project, I’ve been incredibly excited about the ways I can contribute to the organisation that has been such a vital part of my own life – and I’m now very keen to dive in headfirst and get started.

I have chosen to work with the Romsey & Lancefield Districts Historical Society for my major project. The Society is located in Lancefield, Victoria (approximately one hour north of Melbourne CBD), in the Old Lancefield Courthouse. They formed in 1979 and aim to preserve documents relating to the Old Shire of Romsey. Many items in their collections were obtained through donations from local residents. These items include things such as sporting trophies and photographs. The Society is a community organisation which relies primarily on grants and donations as well as a small group of volunteers to continue their work.

The Old Romsey Shire existed from 1862 to 1995 and included the towns of Benloch, Bolinda, Cherokee, Chintin, Clarkefield, Darraweit Guim, Kerrie, Lancefield, Monegeetta, Mt William, Riddells Creek, Rochford, Romsey, Springfield and Tantarraboo. These towns are now part of the Macedon Ranges Shire. The area has a rich history that goes back before colonial settlement. This is seen in the Aboriginal Greenstone Axe Quarry at Mt William and an archeological Mega Fauna site located in an old swamp in Lancefield.

The Society currently keeps collections of family trees, manuscripts, town histories, church histories and club histories. They also hold a cemetery index for Lancefield cemetery and newspaper archives for local newspapers, which they are working to digitalise. Many of these collections are not available online and must be viewed at the Old Lancefield Courthouse. The Society also helps with research and have published various books on local history.

I have lived in Romsey for years so was interested in working with our local historical society to find out more about the work they do and the history of the area, while giving back to the community. For my major project I will be cataloguing the Society’s collection of historic maps. Their collection mainly consists of maps of the former Shire of Romsey but also includes some other areas in Victoria. I look forward to working with the Romsey & Lancefield Districts Historical Society and getting to know more about them and their work.

The non-for-profit organisation that I have chosen to work with is the Hornsby Shire Historical Society, a historical society situated in the North-Western suburb of Normanhurst. My first experience with the Hornsby Shire Historical Society came when I made a school visit to them as a student at Normanhurst West Primary School. I wouldn’t have been older than 8 years old, however, their commitment to educating the community is something that I have remembered all these years. So when it came time to choose an organisation to work with, the Hornsby Shire Historical Society was my first choice.

Tucked behind the trees of Kenley park, the Hornsby Shire Historical Society is a multi-faceted organisation that is involved in numerous parts of the community. The Hornsby Shire Historical Society houses a museum that showcases different aspects of everyday life in the 1930’s. This includes exhibits of a classroom and a grocery store which have both been restored to their former 1930’s glory as well as everyday items from this era such as toys, clothes, appliances etc. The museum is open to the public; however its main purpose is to educate children as it caters to school visits from all across Sydney.

Additionally, the Hornsby Shire Historical Society is concerned with research of the history of Hornsby and its surrounding areas and has a large collection of books and journals that it has published including the bi-yearly journal Local Colour which I will be contributing to in accordance with my research project. The Hornsby Shire Historical Society is also very committed to community outreach, as volunteers will travel to various retirement homes and other establishments to perform ‘show and tell’ like shows. The Hornsby Shire Historical Society has also been known to advocate and defend local heritage listings within the Hornsby Shire and act as advisors to local businesses and community members on historical matters.

Having lived in Normanhurst my entire life, I’m very excited to continue my work with the Hornsby Shire Historical Society and play a larger role in the community I grew up in. The volunteers have been so welcoming and helpful to me and the idea of having my work published in their journal Local Colour is a very exciting prospect. I’m really looking forward to the next few weeks ahead of me.

Driving down Avoca St Randwick on the way to my first day volunteering at the Black Dog Institute with Mark’s lecture fresh in my mind, I wonder what surrounded the sandstone buildings and churches when they were built in the 1800s. Pulling into Hospital Rd I am thrown back into the present as I notice the entrance to the Black Dog Institute nestled in the shadow of gum trees and the very modern Neuroscience Research wing of the Prince of Wales Hospital. I entered the building expecting to be confronted by a similar sterility to the hospital next door, prepared for a long day of reading through boring medical research files. Once I was done with HR, introductions, instructions and set up at a desk with a laptop, I sighed into the desk chair that I knew I wouldn’t be getting up from for hours.

Bringing up the first documents from which I am required to extract key information for a timeline of the history of the institute, I begin reading about one of their first medical trials. I am fascinated to find that this was the first of many projects conducted by the Black Dog Institute which aimed to use online methods to tackle poor mental health. As a millennial I am naturally intrigued by the use of electronic devices for the treatment of mental illness. Not only are the documents I find myself reading not boring medical research files but they are actually providing me with interesting information on a topic with which I am not particularly familiar. As I submerge myself further into the studies completed and research grants approved, a picture of an organization which works persistently to connect their knowledge with their community appears before me. Whether it be through their strategies which were adopted by the NSW government or the making of a new app, the Black Dog Institute has displayed dedication to closing the gap between their medical research and the community. Perhaps I am jaded by the blissful oblivion on the work which lies ahead of me, but I can’t help but look forward to trying to compile a timeline which effectively reflects the nature of Black Dog.

The Australian Men’s Shed Association (ASMA) is a dedicated not-for-profit organisation founded in 2007. Its primary aim is to promote the spread of independent Men’s Sheds across Australia. Most often these sheds are divided by neighbourhood groups, yet some still cater towards different communities, such as elderly gay, or Aboriginal men. For many older men across the nation, these local sheds serve as vital centres of social interaction. 

The Breakfast Point Men’s Shed (BPMS) is one such group. It has a dedicated membership of sixty men, the eldest a spritely 94. I was immediately attracted to volunteer for this organisation, drawn by its central goal. The Shed itself describes their desire to:

‘promote social interaction amongst older people through a range of activities that build friendships and camaraderie’

For the community members of Breakfast Point the Shed is shared space to talk, remember, and create. Fundamentally, this serves to improve the lives of the men involved, keeping them socially and physically engaged well into old age. My visit to the organisation during their weekly coffee meeting certainly illuminated this supportive atmosphere. The rate of in-jokes and playful jests between the members was startling, it was hard to keep up! The strong bonds that the Shed had facilitated between them was self evident.

Breakfast Points’ primary work revolves around the creation of useful items for their wider community. Recently, the men created stroke rehabilitation equipment for both Concord and the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital. Other projects have also included the construction of play furniture for  nearby preschools. Elsewhere, the men bond over meals, fundraising events, bike rides or card games.

Although the history of the organisation itself is brief, as residents of Breakfast Point, the men have a clear interest in what resided within their location before their existence. One of the first things I was informed about was the Shed’s past utility as a weigh-bridge for trucks bringing supplies to and from the local Gasworks. I am excited at the possibilities to uncover more about Breakfast Points’ past, and indeed the lives of the men themselves.

You can’t help but smile and laugh whilst at the Breakfast Point’s Men Shed. Its charm resides within the positive, supportive members that compose it. As Jerry, a Breakfast Point member put: “if you’re not a joker before entering the Shed, you will be in short time.”  Its safe to say that I am thrilled to work with such an accommodating, giving and enthusiastic organisation. 

I have chosen to work with St Mark’s Church, Darling Point. St Mark’s was opened in the mid-1850 and it was designed by Edmund Blacket. The church is built in thirteenth century English Gothic Style architecture. Reverend Dr. Michael Jensen is the current rector.

Although St Mark’s may not sound familiar to most, it is arguably one of Australia’s most recognisable churches. It has hosted two iconic and unlikely weddings. English pop star Elton John married Renate Blauel at the church in 1984, and it served as the chapel in the Australian 1994 film, Muriel’s Wedding. Although one wedding was short-lived and the other was purely fictional, the church’s picturesque naves and spire are unforgettable.

My family’s long-standing relationship with the church drove me to select it as my not-for-profit. Although I grew up in Brisbane, my mother’s family are from Sydney. The majority of my relatives have been christened and married there, myself included. My maternal grandparents and great-grandparents were also avid members of the St Mark’s community – their plaques can still be found in the church’s garden. The photograph (of a photograph) below is of my great-grandparents wedding at St Mark’s. There are identical photographs of my parents and grandparents on their wedding day at the church.

The church is hosts a number of services daily and it is home to many community groups. Although I do not identify as religious, I value spirituality and want to experience the church as an adult – I have not attended a service at St Mark’s since I was a child. Therefore, this Sunday, I will attend the 5:30pm ‘Contemporary’ service. I am looking forward to the service and I believe it will provide me with greater insight into how the church operates and the community atmosphere.   

Although my specific project is unconfirmed, I am certainly interested in drawing on the community’s wealth of knowledge. According to Reverend Dr. Michael Jensen, there are currently six ninety-year-olds in the community and they would love to share their stories of the church. My project will likely be a written or audio history of St Mark’s most notable events. I am looking forward to delving into the church’s history and seeing what I can find!    

For my project I’ve decided to stick my head over the fence.

The founding date of the Picnic Point Bowling and Social Club is debatable to say the least. It could be marked down as the opening of the first greens in March 1962 or perhaps even registration with the Royal Bowling Association in 1957. Personally, I think the strongest case to be made is for somewhere in the mid-1950s when the Club’s founding members gathered out the back of a Lambeth Street store to play darts, drink beer, and do anything but play bowls.

While in the six or so decades since then bowling has certainly shifted to the forefront of the Club’s identity (for reasons both legal and otherwise), this culture of mateship for mateship’s sake has remained at the group’s core. Located a little ways north of the George’s River, the Club is now home to the Men’s Bowls, Women’s Bowls and a number of other sub-clubs including the Picnic Point Darts, Golf and Fishing Clubs. As the hub for all these groups, the Club has become a centre for the smaller, local community of Picnic Point and Panania, with my own family included among its numbers.

My connection to the Club and its history is one that began fourteen years ago when my family moved into a house bordering the greens. My dad’s involvement quickly developed to the point where a gate leading exclusively to the Club appeared in our back fence and the initially two minute-long walk became thirty-seconds. Having seen it go through celebrations and hardships, and evolve in the years I’ve known it, I’m excited by the prospect of helping the Club utilise its history and solidify its identity today.

Although not set in stone, the ultimate goal of my project will be to compile and organise the history of the Picnic Point Bowling and Social Club in various formats, the most prominent being recorded oral history interviews.

Currently, I’ve been reading through old Club meeting minutes and documents to get a grasp on an overarching historical narrative – this has been aided exponentially by an unfinished history written by a former member (who I’m hoping to get in contact with for permission to use his work) and archival research through TROVE and local newspapers. If time permits, I’d like to additionally digitize and catalogue these original minutes/documents as well as a number of photographs that have also been made available to me. Another major task I hope to undertake is recording oral interviews with some of the Club’s oldest members, to be both informed by the history I’ve uncovered and to expand upon it further.

The final form this project will take is still being decided upon. I endeavour to have the interviews compiled into a video that the Club can use at their discretion and the written history also as a standalone resource. Ideally, by the end I’d like to update the Club’s website with their expanded history and embed the video interviews within the same page. I may further include a photograph slideshow with labelled pictures from important moments in the Club’s history.

At its heart, the entire basis of my project is in facilitating the Club’s understanding of its history and attempting to help this history be utilised in the most effective way possible. Amidst the declining popularity of lawn bowls in Australia, I truly believe that this history and the Club’s identity will be the key to its future.