Saturday, 8 June 2024

PERIODICALS I HAVE KNOWN

 These days, save for the daily paper, I subscribe to two periodicals only: The Monthly, and The Saturday Paper, both publications of current affairs and opinion.  But at times in the past I have been a subscriber or regular buyer of numerous other periodicals……..an enumeration of which will give an idea of where my lifetime interests have lain.  To give you a big hint I have sorted them into rough categories.    I note, parenthetically, that although I may have let my loyalties lapse, looking over today’s shoulder I see that many of these publications have expired before I have.  I have placed a hash symbol behind those periodicals that no longer exist.

 

TOPICAL

 

Nation #

 

Nation was the creature of Tom Fitzgerald, the financial editor of the Sydney Morning Herald from 1952 to 1970.  Separate from his day job Fitzgerald, in 1958, launched Nation as an “independent journal of opinion”.  It survived until issue #345, July 22, 1972.  It arrived when I was an undergraduate at The University of Melbourne.  I bought the first edition from the kiosk in the grounds, and bought every edition thereafter – even when in Sydney one time going so far as to make a trip to the Nation office to pick up a couple of editions that I’d somehow missed.  



Nation was a not-to-be-missed fortnightly, with informed comment on politics, current affairs generally, art, film, television, music, and books.  Nation was a profoundly important publication. 

 

Nation Review #

 

The complex interests of businessman, Gordon Barton, extended from his foundation of the parcels express company IPEC to Federal Hotels and to publishers Angus and Robertson.  Barton, in addition, founded a political party, largely in response and opposition to the Government’s pursuit of the Vietnam War. That party: the Liberal Reform Group, later named the Australia Party, later again the Australian Democrats.    And Barton had two newspapers, the Sunday Observer (1969 to 1972), and The Review (from 1970).  In 1972 The Review merged with Nation to become Nation Review.  



As a lively Sunday newspaper, ”aimed at Australia’s new urban, educated middle class”, it survived until 1981 only.   I was with it to the end.  Notable contributors included Phillip Adams, Morris Lurie, Mungo MacCallum, Germaine Greer, Michael Leunig, Bob Ellis – you get the picture. 

 

The Bulletin #

 

The Bulletin was Australia’s principal voice of dissent, more specifically the organ through which non-mainstream speakers had a voice.  At least, that’s how it was in the years of its founder, J.F. Archibald, and the years that followed.   Known in the day as the “bushman’s bible” it spoke to nationalist sentiment through an array of radical writers and cartoonists.  I quote the National Museum of Australia: “The early support of a distinctly Australian style helped to create a sense of national pride in opposition to the British focus of many papers of the time.”  That support dated from inception in the 1880s, but by the 1960s The Bulletin had much changed, now in the Packer stable and much more conservative.  By the 1990s it was not able to compete with the on-line world, and circulation plummeted.  Continuing losses, and the death of Kerry Packer in 2005, forced sale to new private equity owners….…who gave up its ghost in January 2008.  128 years is an impressive life-span nonetheless, and I was a loyal reader for more than 40 of those years.  



The Bulletin of my era was a “great read” - a general interest magazine, with pages of current affairs and the arts, and its disappearance was and is a serious loss.  Last word to Wikipedia: At the end, its “ageing subscribers (ugh!) were not being replaced and its newsstand visibility had dwindled”.

 

Time

 

At one time, when in my early 20s, I had a workmate who had come to Australia with his father who was on secondment here for a year.  My new chum had taken time off from his university course.  In getting to know my American friend I found that he knew nothing, absolutely nothing, about Australia and Australians.  For his part, he was amazed that I knew so much about the United States and Americans. His ignorance was explained by the abysmal insularity of Americans of that era.  My knowledge was significantly attributable to my weekly encounter with Time magazine.  My initial engagement with Time dated from the launch of the world’s first artificial satellite, Sputnik 1, in October 1957.  It was such a momentous event that I had to read as much about it as I could – enter that week’s Time.  I bought a newsstand copy; and continued as a reader and subscriber for decades.  



Sure, from the get-go in 1923, Time reflected the conservative views of founder, Henry Luce, but its weekly coverage of so many areas of interest (to me) easily counteracted the political bias.  Anyway, if the political skewing became too blatant I could always buy Newsweek…….. but I rarely did - the Time “style” was too entertaining.  For instance, the penchant for each entry in the week’s Obituaries column to be crafted as a single sentence - the more prominent the recently-deceased, the more tortuous became the one-line obituary.  By the way, my hundreds of post-1957 Time magazines were at one time added to by a pile of pre-1957 editions that the University’s Rowden White (recreation) Library wanted to shed.  I obliged.  I myself haven’t figured how to shed the hundreds of (by now “classic”) Time magazines to which I’m still affording free rent.

 

GENERAL INTEREST 

 

The New Yorker 

 

Thank the gods of publishing that The New Yorker is still with us.  The miracle is that it has survived, since 1925, despite its apparent focus on one city only.  The founder, Harold Ross, was said to have wanted “to create a sophisticated humour magazine”.   He succeeded, and more.  I can do no better than to quote the internet:  The New Yorker is “a national weekly magazine that offers a signature mix of reporting and commentary on politics, foreign affairs, business, technology, popular culture, and the arts, along with humour, fiction, poetry, and cartoons.”  It does all this within the myth that it is New York focussed.  Well, it is, and it isn’t.  It is New York centred as the many pages devoted to New York theatrical, film and other cultural activities attest, but these pages are for the locals and for intending visitors.  And, also for the vicarious pleasure of those of us who wish.  But the heart of The New Yorker is cosmopolitan.  Planetary indeed.  



The great writers of America have been its contributors, and their topics have had no limits.  Alongside, The New Yorker has provided the outlet for each generation of cartoonists and illustrators.  Over the years there have been a number of compilations of cartoons that had previously appeared in The New Yorker, and the ability to see these works en masse has highlighted their striking originality and topicality.  What will the January 2025 hundredth anniversary edition bring?  Over the years I have followed, and relished, stories of writers and other characters associated with The New Yorker.  I have acquired occasional copies (and wished I had acquired more), and have them still.  Notwithstanding the ephemeral nature that “weekly” implies, I can think of nothing that less personifies the term “trash” than The New Yorker.

 

Parade #

 

You know what to expect with any story that begins with the words “Once upon a time” – well, I’m about to disabuse you with a true story.  Once upon a time (when I was a lad and the world was new) I submitted a history essay that was better than fair average quality.  My teacher, having the need to find some grievous fault, took serious exception to the fact that I had focussed much of my research on articles from Parade magazine.  Why undertake time-consuming research into source material and fusty texts, when the writers for Parade had done that research for you, and produced a neat distillation?  My history teacher didn’t see it that way.  All this was not the fault of Parade, which remained an entertaining monthly magazine (originally quarterly) for some 35 years (1946 to 1981).  



I see that, at different times, it described itself as “Australia’s foremost quarterly magazine of fact stranger than fiction”, or “The monthly magazine of intimate life-stories of famous men and women who shaped history”.  Clearly, it was devoted to “once upon” affairs rather than current ones.  But historical information about the magazine itself is scant. Published in Melbourne, each issue was around 60 pages, and had a dozen articles about historical figures and events – but no indication of who “really” owned it or ran it.  And, typically, no acknowledgement of the authorship of individual pieces.  Dare I suggest that the writers were moonlighting from their history department or daily newspaper jobs.  Anyway, my stack stretches from No. 6 (January 1949) to No. 99 (February 1959)…..and in having a nostalgic dip I’ve found an attribution – to “articles selected from Daily Mirror Features”.  So, I’m guessing that Parade was a spin-off from the Daily Mirror, the Sydney afternoon newspaper.

 

UNESCO Courier

 

The war in Europe ended in May 1945, and the atomic bombs fell on Japan in August 1945, bringing World War II to an end.  Prior to War’s end there had already been plans to establish a post-war organisation to replace the League of Nations – which itself had been established in 1919 in the aftermath of World War I with the objective of maintaining long-term world peace.  Mightily discredited, the League was unable to continue after the second War.  The San Francisco Conference (April through June 1945, before the War had concluded) established the United Nations, which officially began in October of that year with a wide remit.  UNESCO, the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation, also had its origins in 1945; and the UNESCO Courier appeared in 1948.  



The Courier aims to “maintain a platform for the dialogue between cultures and provide a forum for international debate”.  In pursuit of its aims, Courier covers such areas as “literacy, human rights, environment, culture, science and arts”.  In its print format Courier is a profusely illustrated handsome publication.  I was a collector, reader, and admirer for decades.

 

Current Affairs Bulletin #

 

I’m not sure why the acquisition of this publication was mandated for students at Melbourne High School in the 1950s, but we each received a copy each month; and I continued with a subscription for years after. 



Every edition was a long essay on a specific topic, albeit not necessarily a topic that might be considered “current”.  Nevertheless, there was plenty of interest, and plenty for youngsters to learn – if you were of a mind to read them…..because the topics covered by the monthly issues were not correlated to the curriculum.  So read if you want to, not because you have to.  The Current Affairs Bulletin was published from 1942 to 1998.

 

National Geographic

 

In a sense, the ubiquity of National Geographic has made it invisible or, at least, a publication that doesn’t come immediately to mind in this sort of survey.  That’s because it’s always been with us, and appears changeless.  The long-time publishers, the National Geographic Society of Washington, wouldn’t say so; and, indeed, National Geographic has always changed with the times or, put another way, kept up with the changes that have been occurring.  But National Geographic has nevertheless been undone by the remorseless change of modern times.  In 1989 it had over ten million subscribers (and who knows how many readers), but by 2015 it was “obliged” to sell 73% of its ownership to Murdoch’s Fox; then Disney took over Fox.  Early in 2023 National Geographic sacked the last of its staff writers, committing its remaining future to freelance journalists.  From the internet: “With the advent of digital media, the meticulously curated, visually spectacular, and deeply researched articles of National Geographic appear to have fallen out of favour.  Its subscriber base has dwindled, and the once omni-present yellow-bordered print publication will cease to adorn newsstands starting 2024.”  Not being emotionally equipped simply to shed my many copies of National Geographic, many of which have op shop origins, and a number of which date from the 1920s, I have kindly passed them over to son Dan for safekeeping – an easy transition, really, from garage open shelves to garage cupboard.  Poor Dan.  Speaking of National Geographic and of changing times – which I was just now – some years ago I attended a Council of Adult Education one-day course on…..you won’t believe this! I forget the subject matter - something to do with China.  And, you also won’t believe that I’ve thrown away the course material.  Anyway, the nub of my story is that the course presenter, an academic from The University of Melbourne, bemoaned the absence of material pertaining to China prior to the Communist era.  I knew I had something at home that might be apropos – and, indeed it was.  I was able, later, to contact the lecturer, and to cite National Geographic Index 1888 – 1988, a comprehensive volume of some 1215 pages.  The Index lists some 98 articles on China, many of them published before 1949 and before the Peoples’ Republic, the earliest from 1894.  Not peer-reviewed scholarship, I guess, but what a trove!  The lecturer hightailed it to the University library.




SERIOUS MUSIC

 

The Gramophone

 

The noun doyen means the senior or most experienced member of a group of men (doyenne if women), but it can also mean the oldest example in a category.  The Gramophone is undoubtedly the doyen of magazines devoted to serious music.  It was founded by Scot, Compton Mackenzie, and thrives to this day.  Mackenzie (1883 to 1972) was a prolific writer – more than 100 books, ranging from fiction (adults and children), to biography, to history – with a life of sufficient moment to warrant a ten-volume autobiography.  He had a passion for serious music, and that passion led to the foundation in 1923 of The Gramophone, a monthly magazine with articles about music, and reviews of recordings.  Mackenzie remained editor of The Gramophone from its inception to 1961.  For anyone aspiring to compile a record collection The Gramophone was (and doubtless is) the go-to publication.  



I discovered it in the late 1950s, by which time the former 78 rpm shellac discs had been comprehensively superseded, and the new 33 1/3 rpm LP microgroove discs were saturating the landscape, with new recordings, and with new pressings of previously-released 78s.  The Gramophone was my musical Bible through the 1960s and beyond.  The boxes of upwards-of-65-years-old magazines in my garage, I’m sad to say, have ceased to amuse, and have become an albatross around my neck…….. but I will not bin them.

 

International Classical Record Collector #

International Opera Collector #

International Piano Quarterly 

 

I was passionate about collecting these quarterly magazines in the 1990s.  They were offshoots of The Gramophone, and each focussed on a specific area of serious music, contained extended record reviews, and had authoritative articles on historical and contemporary music, often extensive biographies.  They were of most attractive presentation, on fine paper, in the unusual A5 format (148 x 210 mm), each around 100 pages.  They were very collectable.  Many of their contributors were writers for The Gramophone.   International Classical Record Collector appeared in 1995.  It had two subsequent name changes – to Classic Record Collector, then Classic Recordings Quarterly – and ceased, after 20 years and 80 issues, with its Spring 2015 issue.  Given the more than 100 years history of classical recordings (and the ability to update the meaning of “classic” as time went on), it is no surprise that the magazine lasted for 20 years. I regret having not followed it all the way.

  


International Opera Collector, which appeared in 1996,clearly breathed a more rarefied air, but there was, nonetheless, plenty to write about – singers and conductors, current performances, recordings (historical and latest), and operas and opera per se.  Plus, a calendar of up-coming opera performances around the world – not of much general interest, I suppose, but of specific interest to those Ring Cycle tragics who chase performances across the globe.  I have been unable to ascertain the date of the tragic death of International Opera Collector; on this occasion the internet having fallen short.  



International Piano Quarterly, which later changed its name to International Piano, dates from 1997, and continues to be published.  Over its 25 years it has changed its ownership, and switched to a fortnightly, and returned to The Gramophone camp.  The principal feature of each edition over the years has been a full-scale report on a selected pianist, complete with full discography.  A 1990s for instance: Jorge Bolet, John Ogden, Dinu Lipatti, Artur Rubenstein, Georgy Cziffra, Vladimir Horowitz.  From the Summer 2000 edition the magazine transitioned to A4 format; and, from September/October 2001, because of “unprecedented demand”, it became a bi-monthly and dropped the “quarterly” name.



Classic CD #

 

An unique feature of this monthly British magazine was the accompanying CD, containing clips from the music reviewed within.  Hence my consequent row of CDs nearby to the pile of magazines.  This too-good-to-be-missed feature, however, didn’t attract sufficient long-term support: Classic CD lasted from May 1990 to August 2000 only.  On-line speculation suggests that Classic CD didn’t fit within the business strategy of its new owners, or that it was due to the modernisation of its rival, The Gramophone.  Whatever! the effect was the same.  Classic CD was a valiant attempt to draw a more general readership to the field of serious music.


 

Soundscapes #

 

These are the words of the founder and inaugural editor of Soundscapes, in his first editorial (January/February 1993): “This magazine is primarily intended to fulfil the needs of a burgeoning classical CD industry……..and we also hope to regularly profile artists (and their respective recordings).”  And, so it proved.  



From its initial 60-pages-plus it grew to short of 100 pages of exemplary professional presentation.  I can’t recall whether I lost touch with It, or whether it lost touch with me; but a search of the internet has proved singularly unhelpful.  There are some references to articles that appeared in Soundscapes, but no entry on the publication itself.  Tellingly, despite all the early promise, the catalogue of the State Library of Victoria indicates that the Soundscapes lifespan was five years only.  Somebody lost interest, and I’m guessing it wasn’t the readers.  I read that the April/May 1998 issue was the last……..so now I know that I have a full run!

 

FILM

 

Sight and Sound

 

The British Film Institute was established in 1933.  It is “a film and television charitable organisation which promotes and preserves film-making and television in the United Kingdom”.  It holds the world’s largest film archive (some 50000 fiction films, 100000 non-fiction, and over 600000 television programmes); and since it is funded by the National Lottery it’s financial future is secure.  [I make this comment somewhat flippantly, because the funds provided by the Lottery are small beer compared with the Government’s annual grants in the 70+ millions of pounds range.]  Among the BFIs extensive range of responsibilities is the monthly publication of Sight and Sound.  




Sight and Sound had begun a couple of years earlier than the BFI, as an adult education magazine, and came under the auspices of the BFI in 1934.  [As a sort of aside I mention Monthly Film Bulletin.  This 10-pager, also published by the British Film Institute, was produced from 1934 to 1991, when it was merged into Sight and Sound. It was an information periodical, illustration free, with sections of reviews/critiques of “Entertainment Films” and “Non-Fiction and Short Films”.  



Each reviewed film was given an “Audience Suitability” rating, ranging from A for adults only, B for adults and adolescents, C “family”, that is containing “no scenes or characters likely to frighten or disturb children”, to D for children over seven – "films which children will enjoy and which contain no frightening or disturbing elements”.  Simpler times!]  Sight and Sound was – and, I suppose, is – the world’s premier film magazine; although I have no current exposure to the opinions of those who might disagree.

 

Screen News #

 

The movies were public entertainment big time in Australia, from the 1920s, I suppose to the 1960s.  Talkies had become widespread by the early 1930s, and the weekly night out at the local movie house had become an entrenched national pastime.  The powerful influence of Hollywood and the major studios extended not only to distribution cartels in Australia but to theatre ownership.  Hence, the Hoyts movie theatre chain owned (from 1930) by 20th Century Fox.  The worldwide activities and ownership of Hoyts in the most recent 40 years is more convoluted than the Khyber Pass, but back in the settled days of the 1950s the Hoyts chain was able to produce a weekly film magazine for patrons, Screen News.  Available at Hoyts theatres only, ninepence as I recall, heaps of photographs (of film stars), and upbeat articles – all of which referencing current Hoyts releases only, releases from the studios of 20th Century Fox, Warner Bros., Universal, and RKO.   If you were intending to see an MGM, Paramount or Columbia film at the rival Greater Union movie house up the street forget it if you expected to see some reference in Screen News.  



I acquired many copies of Screen News over the years, somewhere between eight and ten inches of them, but can’t be more precise because a few years back I gave them to a friend.  Holy Moley, I’ve just found 120 copies of Screen News for sale on e-Bay, broken run 1951 through 1962, for $5000!

 

Film 

 

Film was and is the magazine of the British Federation of Film Societies.  I’d forgotten about this little publication – 30 to 40 pages, 8½ by 5½ inches – and forgotten that I had an almost complete run of the early years 1955 through 1970.  



Film is still going strong.  I don’t have the first two issues of Film, but a glance at issue No. 3 gives an indication of how mature this publication was from the outset. There are articles on: “The Gorky Trilogy”, “Documentary at the BBC”, “Chaplin as Chaplin”, “Judy Holliday”, and “Nobody Loves the Censor!”.  From issue No. 55 Film doubled its dimensions and became A4-sized.   I daresay it was not possible to double its quality.

 

Movie #

 

The fate of Movie magazine is a mystery to me.  I have “consulted” the internet, but am confounded by the magazine’s generic name – there are simply too many (irrelevant) links to the word “movie”.  So, because I can find no reference to the magazine, I am presuming that it no longer exists – a presumption reinforced by the fact of my collection ending in June 1963!  Movie, going by my eight issues, was a very well-produced British publication, with a topical “what’s on” listing, current reviews, and leading serious articles.  Some of those articles: “Hitchcock and the Mechanics of Suspense”, “The Testament of Vincente Minnelli”, “Carmen Jones and Porgy and Bess”, “Howard Hawks”, “Interview with Robert Bresson”, “Robert Aldrich”, and “The Cinema of Nicholas Ray”.  I could cherry pick another dozen.  Really good stuff, clearly influenced by the emergence from France in the mid-1950s of the auteur theory of filmmaking – author (director) as creator.

 


Melbourne Film Bulletin #

 

The cravings of cinema addicts at the University of Melbourne in my day were somewhat assuaged by the weekly screenings of the Melbourne University Film Society; and to satisfy the post-University cravings of recent graduates a bunch of alumni formed a separate film society which presented monthly screenings at the nearby Carlton Theatre.  This was in March 1960.  This new society was known as Melbourne University Film Group, within a year to become University Film Group.  Initially there was a four-sided brochure with notes on the films being screened but, in a little over a year, the brochure had morphed into U.F.G. Quarterly – still modest, sixteen sided, but with ambitions: “If the circulation can be expanded, then the size of the journal may also be increased and more ambitious writings attempted.  We are optimistic.  May we prove justified.”  That special pleading was not exactly the trigger for resounding publishing success, and although one edition managed 32 pages, by issue number 7 of 1963 it had shrunk to four sides – and had dropped the periods between the U the F and the G.  And then later changed its name to UFG Bulletin.  Somewhere along that path I was cajoled (not unwillingly) by erstwhile campus friends to join the committee, and so began years of friendship interspersed with the vagaries of magazine production.  I can’t recall why, but in issue number 8 of 1963 we went full ape and renamed the magazine University Film Group Bulletin, and thus it remained until it became Melbourne Film Bulletin in April 1968.  


It was all fun, not least the typing and printing at my office, and the around-the-table collating and stapling of each issue; not to forget the trip to the GPO for the concessional bulk posting.  And the magazine?  Well, it may have had a somewhat amateur hour appearance, but the content was better than FAQ, and better than one had the right to expect from a magazine principally intended to provide film club members with information about forthcoming screenings.   A number of people later to make a mark in the film world found their voice with Melbourne Film Bulletin.

 

Films in Review

 

Due respect has to be paid to the self-described “America’s Oldest Film Publication”.  And to the organisation behind its publication.  The National Board of Review dates from 1909 (sic), when “a group of right-minded New York City activists mobilized against motion picture censorship”, culminating in the code that resulted in the words “Passed by the National Board of Review” appearing in the credits of American films released between 1910 and 1950.  There were a couple of precursor titles before the National Board’s 10-issues-a-year Films in Review, appeared in 1950. My collection runs from 1954 to 1974, with a few breaks. 



 The magazine, described as “digest sized” (19 cm x 14 cm), has film reviews, book reviews and “articles”.  These articles are far-reaching.  Of particular interest (to completists) are the articles devoted to full filmographies of filmmakers.  Films in Review ran out of financial steam in the 1990s, and it was “sold off” to a concerned long-time contributor; then, after a couple of years, was forced to “go on-line”, a move which their web page describes as “wildly successful” – not so much, I gather, for its publishing of new material, but because of its stockpile of historical material: “The FIR archive……going back forty, fifty, and sixty years into the publication’s past”, and “long-lost articles from our vault including famous filmmakers such as Alfred Hitchcock” etc.  The Films in Review website is peppered with images of numerous front covers, many of which can be seen on my shelves.  P.S.: Films in Review, before its days of financial crisis, took itself very seriously, so much so that it funded the indexation of its contents in occasional separate bound volumes.


Senses of Cinema

 

Senses of Cinema is the odd one out in this reminiscence of periodicals I have known - it is the only magazine that is and has since its launch (in December 1999) been an on-line publication.   It proclaims that it “has set the standard for professional, high quality, film-related content on the internet”, and it manifestly has!  It comes loosely under the wings of RMIT University, but is in every way independent, and the organ of its committee and its current editors.  The internet means that its reach is worldwide but, more important, it has since inception fostered authorship and input from a worldwide array of expert contributors.  I was privileged to be on the Senses committee for a few years, and have the utmost praise and respect for the team of editors who solicit material and organise each issue.  It publishes three or four times a year, and its thousands of words are all still there on the sensesofcinema.com website.  The May 2024 Issue is its 109th.  

 

Films and Filming #

 

Back in the day I was a devotee of Films and Filming, one of the magazines published in Britain by Hansom Books in a series promoted as the Seven Arts Group – that name tipping its hat to the seven liberal arts of medieval education: grammar, dialectic (logic), rhetoric, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music. The seven magazines published over time by Hansom Books were Art and Artists, Books and Bookmen, Dance and Dancers, Music and Musicians, Plays and Players, Records and Recordings – and Films and Filming.  These magazines were of uniform size, 11 inches by 8 ½ inches, and of equivalent fine presentation.  It all started in 1950, and it was fun while it lasted - until bankruptcy in 1980, followed by the suicide of the founder.  Once I had discovered Films and Filming I forthwith bought a subscription, my completist genes went into overdrive, and I sent away for back copies.  And, while I wasn’t loyal to the end, my groaning shelves stretch from the “second number”, November 1954, to December 1972.  Quite a stash.  


 

Stereotypical film magazine content, I suppose – comprehensive reviews of current releases, leading articles featuring actors or production people, extended film analyses – but, additionally, the monthly format facilitated a letters column, a q & a section, and much else.  With its upwards-of-80 pages and atypically small typeface Films and Filming was not only packed with words but also with images.  So much more than a fan magazine.

 

Miscellany of Film Magazines

 

My nostalgic dip into boxes of memorabilia has unearthed several film magazines - sometimes single copies, magazines mostly long gone.  Not magazines that I “collected”, but I acquired and kept them nonetheless.  

         ABC Film Review #          Plenty of photographs and illustrations, well written text.  June 1955 edition.  Started life in 1951, finished in December 2008.  In 1955 it announced “Stories and pictures of the films coming your way”; in later years it said “Britain’s longest-running film magazine”.



         Movie News #           A latter-day Hoyts publication, in the “popular” vein, for sale at the cinema door.



         Film Chronicle #                “A new magazine of film criticism and research”, published by the Melbourne University Film Society.  First edition June 1968.  Among its start-up supporters were Antony I Ginnane, Peter Carmody, David J. Stratton and Ross Robson.  Its first editorial came out swinging: “One role of the critic should be to alert the public to films worth seeing.  It is the opinion of those associated with Film Chronicle that this duty is being sadly neglected by the so-called professional critics of the daily and weekly press.  The one interested critic in Melbourne is committed to a dogmatic policy injurious to the visual appreciation of film and dedicated to perpetuating the widely accepted heresy of literary criticism of cinema.”  I’m unable to ascertain whether there was ever a second edition.



         Film Digest #            Film Digest was published by the WEA Film Study Group in Sydney.   I know not whether it still survives, I presume not, certainly not in its 1967 typewritten and roneoed format, the format of so many of its “amateur” contemporaries.  



         Film Journal #           Although I was a long-time member of the Melbourne University Film Society I was never involved with running the show……although, I recall, they were foolish enough one time to appoint me the auditor of their financial statements.  In my time, programme notes were produced for each weekly screening and, by the time of my graduation, these notes had evolved into Film Journal.  This name has been used by other publications, and an internet search has proved somewhat cluttered by imposters, so I can’t say whether Film Journal a la MUFS still exists.



         Cahiers du Cinema in English #                This French film magazine began in 1951, and is described as “the most prestigious and influential film journal ever published”.  The English-language version dates from 1966.  It chose not to effect the translation from “cahiers” to “notebooks”.  Despite its prestige and influence it did not survive Anglicization, and (from what I can ascertain) existed for 12 issues only.



       Film Quarterly           Published quarterly by the University of California Press, this prestigious magazine (back in the day) was of large pocketbook format, quality paper, 64 pages, with a modest number of illustrations.  It commenced in 1945 as Hollywood Quarterly, from 1951 to 1957 it was The Quarterly of Film Radio and Television, and then Film Quarterly.  It immodestly describes itself as “one of the most authoritative academic film journals in the United States”.  My few copies are from 1962 through 1967.  I can find no online image of Film Quarterly today, so have no sense of how its print format may have evolved; but it still exists.




OTHER

 

Port of Melbourne Quarterly # 

 

The operations of the port of Melbourne were overseen by the Melbourne Harbour Trust from 1877 until the Trust’s management was superseded by the Port of Melbourne Authority in 1978.  For many years the Trust’s headquarters were in its grand 1930-vintage free-standing building in Market Street; and it was to an office in this building that I traipsed one time in the 1950s [there is no commemorative plaque, by the way] to secure a bunch of back issues of the Port of Melbourne Quarterly, the house magazine of the Harbour Trust.  The publication was unashamedly focussed on the port areas of Melbourne, and the comings and goings of imports, exports, and people through the port.  



On the reflection that sixty sober years affords, I should have thought that such a magazine would have had very little interest for the general reader, and I have no memory whatever of why it interested me at the time.  Maybe my interest was triggered by an impending school project – each issue contained numerous photographs of ships!  I was a dutiful buyer, reader, and collector of these glossy magazines for a number of years, but I no longer have them, and have no recollection of their fate.  The publication history is from the January/March 1948 edition to the April/June 1984 edition.

 

Oz #

The Living Daylights #

 

These magazines are paired because of their shared origins, and because of their shared iconoclasm.  Oz was famous in its day for its no holds barred pokes at “the establishment” and authority, and The Living Daylights continued in that vein.  Think underground, think counterculture, think dissent.  Oz was published In London from early 1966, and in that UK incarnation was notorious (“notorious”, you understand, is a very fluid adjective, rarely used by people to describe themselves) - notorious for being prosecuted after being targeted by the Obscene Publications Squad.   The obscenity prosecution of editor, Richard Neville, and others, was a gladiatorial event in London in 1971, and had the serious overtone that the obscenity prosecution had been framed under an archaic law that confronted the defendants with the theoretical possibility of life imprisonment.  John Mortimer (a.k.a. Rumpole) and Geoffrey Robertson appeared for the “others” and Neville represented himself.  The charges stated that the defendants conspired “to produce a magazine containing obscene, lewd, indecent and sexually perverted articles, cartoons and drawings with intent to debauch and corrupt the morals of children and other young persons and to arouse and implant in their minds lustful and perverted ideas.”  The indictment also included the charge of conspiracy to corrupt public morals.  Yes, this was the 1970s.  The defendants were found not guilty of the conspiracy charge, but convicted of the lesser offences and sentenced to imprisonment.  The forcible cutting of their long hair added to the public outcry.  At the appeal the convicts appeared wearing long wigs, there was much criticism of the trial judge’s behaviour, and acquittal resulted.  Wikipedia suggests that leading parliamentarians had intervened and that, indeed, the Chief Justice had had a secret meeting with Neville and co, had said the trial judge had ”made a mess of it”, and indicated that they would be acquitted on appeal.  The ways of British Justice move mysteriously!   The circulation of this unambiguously non-mainstream magazine rose to 80000 after the trials……although by November 1973 (issue number 48) Oz was gone from the UK.  Anyway, all this is by way of preamble to my observations on Oz, the Australian precursor to the UK version of Oz.   Oz (Australia) was published from 1963 to 1969.  Same old, same old.  University student creators Richard Neville, Richard Walsh (later a successful editor of mainstream newspapers), and Martin Sharp were prosecuted on charges of obscenity.  They pleaded guilty to avoid custodial sentences; in the meantime, the first edition had sold 6000 copies on its day of publication.  That edition led with a hoax about the collapse of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, and had articles on abortion (which at the time was illegal in New South Wales), and the history of the chastity belt.  Succeeding issues dealt trenchantly with police brutality, Australia’s involvement in the Vietnam war, homosexuality, and the White Australia Policy.  



The prosecution of Oz led to a virtual embargo by the publishing industry, until a printing lifeline was thrown by Francis James, writer-publisher of The Anglican.  [Francis James is a story for another day: using The Anglican to campaign against the Vietnam War; fined 50 pounds for publishing Oz; having published an expose of the Chinese nuclear bomb capability, being imprisoned in China for three years.]  A second obscenity trial of the three Oz principals, in April 1964, was more momentous in view of the previous convictions.  History tells that the magistrate was seriously hostile, and “made an example” by sentencing the plaintiffs variously to six and three months in prison with hard labour.  The three were released on bail pending appeal, and there followed an uprising of support.  The appeal judge noted that the trial judge had misdirected the jury with prejudicial instructions, and the convictions were overturned.  Neville and Sharp departed for the UK in February 1966 (where the world of UK Oz awaited) and, under Walsh, a reduced version of the Australian Oz survived until 1969.  Upon return to Australia, the indefatigable Neville (together with Walsh), published The Living Daylights - more anarchy, this time of tabloid dimensions.   



I had a small collection of the Australian edition of Oz, and a full run of The Living Daylights.  I sold them some years ago, as part of a job lot of magazines and other ephemera, to my Sydney bookseller friend for $300 the lot.  The net tells me that some optimist out there has the 25-edition set of The Living Daylights for sale at $5000!

 

Mad #

 

I remember Mad from high school days, not read by teenagers under the desk like some sort of forbidden fruit, but group-read by classmates, collectively incredulous at its irreverent and anarchic take on the world.  Principally the American world, I suppose, but with the universalisation of American “culture”, that meant our world too.  Mad survives in the compilation and reprint world, but the old Mad died in 2019, after 67 years.  



There had never, since its emergence in 1952, been any shortage of subjects for satire; and one of Mad’s endearing attributes had been to overlay straightforward satire with a dash of mayhem – its illustrators saw to that.  One source describes Mad as an “unique mix of adolescent silliness and political humour”, but it’s important to note that there were readers other than adolescents – at the 1974 peak Mad’s readership was 2.1 million.

 

Outback

 

Outback is a monthly magazine about life in the bush, about rural affairs, about everything in the “outback” including those unique folk who have made rural Australia their homes and their lives.  It is a handsome glossy, profusely illustrated, and within the concept of “outback” it is free to explore an endless range of topics…..including pieces with a town mouse/country mouse flavour.  



For a former country boy the sentimental lure of Outback was not to be ignored, and I followed it for years, escaping the lure of the bush after issue number 100, April/May 2015.

 

Australian Forest Grower #

 

I guess it was in the 1970s when I joined a discussion group of accountants and lawyers practising in the taxation field (this on top of my membership of two other groups for accountants only), and it was immediately suggested that I should prepare a paper for delivery to a forthcoming meeting.  I chose to speak on the implications of taxation for the afforestation industry, first because I knew there were some industry-specific rules in the tax and death duty codes, rules not traversed by the typical practitioner, second because I myself had no real knowledge of “tax and forestry”, and thought that researching and writing a paper would be the ideal way to learn.  The paper I prepared gained a bit of broader exposure, and a little later I was invited to address the inaugural meeting of the Southern Chapter of the Australian Forest Development Institute – later to change its name to Australian Forest Growers.  AFDI’s focus in its home state of New South Wales had begun with the poplar industry, then widened to other plantation trees; the initial focus of the Southern Chapter was the pinus radiata industry.  Historically, the growing of pine trees had been the province of the state Forests Commissions, but private afforestation was the new vogue - with tax benefits………analogous to a wheat crop, the costs of planting a pine plantation were a tax write-off in the year of planting even though the proceeds (and taxation) of the crop might be many years hence.  In time, pinus radiata, with its 25-plus years rotation period, has been largely superseded by eucalyptus globulus (Blue gum) which can produce a cash crop in fewer than ten years.  From that first meeting my association with Australian Forest Growers extended over many years: I was promptly appointed to the committee, over the years presented papers to a number of conferences, and was involved with Australian Forest Grower, the magazine that followed - indeed led – the progress of the organisation.



In time I handed my copies of the magazine to a friend with a professional and passionate interest in soil biology and conservation.  Australian Forest Grower ceased publication in 2017.

 

New York Review of Books

 

I mention this publication, not because I’m a regular reader, but because of its importance in the publishing world.  I much regret not having been an avid reader, or not having become better acquainted with it, but somewhere around here there’s a little pile of back copies.



  Even a modest acquaintance with this publication will convince the reader that they have found the gold standard.  I’ll let Wikipedia do the talking for me:  The New York Review of Books has “articles on literature, culture, economics, science and current affairs”, and “is inspired by the idea that the discussion of important books is an indispensable literary activity”.  The New York Review of Books has been published since 1963.  The Washington Post has described it as “a journal of ideas that has helped define intellectual discourse in the English-speaking world”, and Esquire has termed it “the most respected intellectual journal in the English language”.  The roll call in Heaven will be no more illustrious than the roll call of writers for this journal – and there may be some overlapping.

 

--------------

 

Well, there they are.  I had no sense of how many publications would be unearthed when I started to trawl through the shelves, the boxes, and the grey matter.  It has been a nostalgic excursion for me, hopefully an interesting one for you,

 

Gary Andrews

 

 

Monday, 29 April 2024

THE MAJOR MITCHELL TRAIL – PART 4 (FINAL)

                                                                                 

For Parts 1 to 3 of the re-tracing of Major Mitchell’s 1836 expedition see my Pieces to Share blogs posted, respectively, January 2023, October 2023 and November 2023.

     

I have said something about Major Mitchell the man in my opening remarks in each of these offerings on The Major Mitchell Trail and, in doing so again (and by way of recap), I plagiarise his abbreviated life story from a publication of some 70 years ago – written long before the release of the Trail book.  


"Sir Thomas Mitchell: Explorer, soldier, inventor, writer and legislator born at Craigend in Stirlingshire, Scotland on June 16 1792.  Offered the position of assistant to Surveyor-General Oxley, Mitchell accepted and, less than a year after his arrival in Australia, became Surveyor-General when Oxley died in 1828. As such he accomplished the survey of Eastern Australia and the division of its settled areas into towns, public reserves and highways. In 1831 he headed an expedition into the interior and traced the course of the Bogon and Darling Rivers. Five years later he set out again and coming upon the junction of the Darling and Murray Rivers, pushed directly south into the unexplored country of Western Victoria and penetrated toward the coast. Mitchell was so enthralled with the new country that he named it Australia Felix (Happy Australia). He followed the Glenelg River for some distance and on August 17 1836 arrived at Portland Bay where the Henty brothers had established a large farm. Mitchell made other trips but eventually gave up exploration. He died at the age of 63.”

 

 

 

The Trail – Maps 18 to 25 [days 109 to 138]  

 

20 September to 19 October, 1836

 

The expedition is heading towards Sydney. The Trail book does not cover the New South Wales section of the home journey, after the Murray had been crossed.  Neither shall we.

 

Remember, Mitchell had split the expedition into two on 19 September 1836, and left the Stapylton group to follow once the cattle were sufficiently spelled.  The sojourn was expected to be two weeks, and indeed it was  – the following group resumed their journey on 3 October – but not before Stapylton had scored a eucalypt with the words “Depot”, “Stapylton”, and “Party of Nine”, and marked the engraving with charcoal and grease.  The tree was “discovered” in 1877; and its stump is now in the Dunkeld and District Historical Museum.

 

Meanwhile Mitchell had encountered a small party of aborigines; and in his diary noted the contents of the women’s food bags: “three snakes, three rats, about 1kg of small fish resembling whitebait, crayfish, and a quantity of the small root of a plant Mitchell called ‘tao’ (yam-daisy).”







The Mitchell commemorative cairn beside the Willaura-Wickliffe Road, dating from 1986, with badly-weathered signboard

 

Our re-tracing as close as possible to Mitchel’s route took us through the township of Willaura – which rates a special mention because of its uniqueness, the uniqueness of a small settlement (population a little over 400) in having a thriving bakery.  We noted the full range of bread and cakes: the baker having finished his day’s duties in the bakehouse now happily ensconced in the shop communing with all comers; a steady stream of customers, many of them tradies appearing from nearby (and, I suspect, distant) assignments.  And fine produce.

 




                                        Willaura Bakery, then (1920s) and now

 

Over succeeding days Mitchell travelled steadily north-eastwards, crossing the Western Highway nearby to Buangor.  He climbed and named Mount Cole, and noted that the range ahead resembled the lower Spanish Pyrenees, although not so steep.  Over time, a range some 25 km to the north became known as the Pyrenees!

 

We were not able to find the cairn shown on the map as being alongside the Western Highway some ten kilometres from Beaufort.  We searched back and forth for an hour, and suspect that it may have been the victim of significant highway duplication works.  There was no evidence, however, of the cairn having been re-located to either of the new roadsides.  The transition from stone cairn to rubble is brief, and one way. 

 

We had more success at Lexton, where the 24 September 1836 cairn is beside a secondary road, a little out of town - although we located it only with the help of a long-time local who “thought” there may be a monument up past the church.  As you can see, the cairn is snuggled under an enormous eucalypt, and is anything but conspicuous.  Although the Trail book advises that Mitchell camped at Lexton on 24 September 1836 the tablet on the cairn says he “passed through” on 25 September 1836.  On reflection, I suppose both are correct!




                                        The Lexton cairn and its guardian eucalypt

 

The next day Mitchell climbed Mount Greenock, near the Ballarat-Maryborough Road, and “enjoyed such a charming view eastward from the summit, as can but seldom fall to the lot of the explorers of new countries.  The surface presented the forms of pristine beauty, clothed in the hues of spring; and the shining verdure of these smooth and symmetrical hills, was relieved by the darker hues of the wood with which they were interlaced.”  Notwithstanding, Gary and Dan Andrews were unable to find the Mount Greenock cairn.  Is it on the summit, or has it been nonchalantly tossed somewhere out of view?  My frustration at once again having our quest stymied can be gauged from my notebook entry: “…..the directions were shit, and the track was shittier.”

 

However, as in every boys’ book of adventure, things got better – adversity always leads to triumph.  By the Pyrenees Highway, Newstead, on the Castlemaine side of town, is the 27 September 1836 cairn – a little smaller than most of the others, with cut-in corners.


                                        
                                        Major Mitchell tucked away near Newstead

 

Mitchell continued, bearing in a virtual straight line, through present-day Castlemaine, halting before the terrain became mountainous.  And a little beyond Castlemaine, while camp was being set up on 28 September, Mitchell rode to nearby Mount Alexander; and later praised Tommy Came-last for their safe return to camp after dark.

 

At Golden Point, where the expedition passed the next day, there is a commemorative cairn – not erected in 1936 though, but earlier in 1914, funded by public subscription.

 


   

                                                 The cairn at Golden Point


During a three-day layover (near Faraday) for boat-carriage repairs Mitchell and some of his men took a round-trip journey to Mount Macedon, on the way passing Kyneton.  The Trail map indicates a Mitchell cairn at Kyneton, but is otherwise unhelpful, and we searched the town before heading for the tourist information place away from the town centre, on the road to Melbourne – only to find the commemorative cairn nearby.  At least we were spared the blank look of some tourist official having no comprehension of what we were enquiring about!         

 

 


That’s not so hard to find, is it?

 

From Mount Macedon Mitchell gained an uninterrupted view of Port Phillip.  “I ascended without being obliged to alight from my horse, and I found that the summit was very spacious, being covered towards the south with tree-ferns and musk-plant…….The summit was full of wombat holes, and, unlike the side I had climbed, was covered with the dead trunks of enormous trees in all stages of decay.”  Given the (? tenuous) association with distant Port Phillip, Mitchell gave the mountain the name Macedon [Philip of Macedonia, get it?  I don’t get it. The bay had been named after the first governor of New South Wales, Captain Arthur Phillip – different spelling!].  Mitchell later learnt that the aboriginal name was Gebour, which he thought was “a much better one”.

 

The Trail book indicates a Mitchell cairn at Mount Macedon, but we were unable to find it – nor was the leader of a group of touring students, who had no knowledge of its existence, or of Major Mitchell’s!  There is, however, a plaque dedicated in 1976.



Mitchell’s encounter with Mount Macedon is eloquently described by Professor Geoffrey Blainey:


“Climbing Mount Macedon at sunset on the last day of September 1836 he wondered if he could see the new village of Melbourne.  The bay was far away but the horizon became clearer in the fading light.  He looked in vain for rising smoke but at the northern end of the bay he ‘saw a mass of white objects which might have been either tents or vessels’.  The white objects were Melbourne, which was then one year old.”

 

The expedition re-grouped back near Faraday to the south of Mount Alexander; and then spent two nights (3 and 4 October 1836) in the shadow of Mount Lofty before moving on past the Coliban Falls and the spot for the village of Redesdale.


Beside the park in the centre of Redesdale, mounted on a boulder, there is a plaque unveiled by Geoffrey Blainey after a 1986 commemorative trek in Mitchell’s honour.

 



There were four campsites along the way from Redesdale to Nagambie, and two commemorative cairns – one at Mitchellstown, and one at Nagambie itself.  Mitchelltown exists where the Mitchell expedition crossed the Goulburn River, although that claim to fame has yielded a population today of 59 souls only.  Mitchell’s route is shadowed by today’s main road a few kilometres to its north.  Mitchell’s diary of 5 October 1836 records the curious fact that in an abandoned native encampment Piper found a razor which, on it blade, had the words “Old English”.  Another curiosity:  The following day the expedition passed through an area where the red Ironbark eucalypts were in flower.  Large quantities of the blossoms were collected under Piper’s supervision, and steeped overnight in water to make a sweet beverage that Piper called “bool”.

 

The Goulburn River at Mitchelltown was reached on 8 October. 

       

 

                        Commemorative cairn in Major’s Creek Reserve, Mitchellstown

 

There was already another Goulburn River, in the other-side-of-the-Hume part of New South Wales, and Mitchell wanted to re-name this present river after the Aboriginal name, Bayunga.  Nothing came of this – the “southern” Goulburn had been named by Hume and Hovell, and the name stuck.  The Trail book continues: “Mitchell decided that the river was not fordable, so he immediately launched the boat to seek a suitable place for swimming the cattle and horses across.  By evening all animals and equipment, other than the boat carriage, were safely across.”  There is an oil, by Henry Gritten, depicting the crossing of the Goulburn by boat.  The Trail notes that Gritten used artistic licence to include in the background a small cottage and a fence.

 

Mitchell’s progress thereafter might be described as steadfast, virtually in direct lines – near easterly to Wangaratta, then near northerly to the Murray.  The absence of mountains, however, did not relieve the expedition of occasional troublesome terrain; indeed, before arriving at Nagambie on 9 October there had been “careful negotiation of a labyrinth of lagoons and low-lying land”.  Lake Nagambie was described as a “deep lagoon”.

 

There is a Major Mitchell cairn in the main street plantation of Nagambie……  


 

                                        Major Mitchell, passed by, 9 October 1836

 

…..and another at Miepoll South, where the party passed on 11 October.

 



                                  The Miepoll South cairn

 

On 11 October Mitchell recorded the sighting, far to the south-east, of mountains “of considerable elevation”, and alpine snow.  From Mitchell’s field notes we can identify these peaks as Buffalo, Feathertop, Buller and Strathbogie.  Camp that night was near Violet Town.  The Violet Town commemoration dates not from 1936, but from 11 October 1986, the 150th anniversary.  Better late than never!  It is a large stone sculpted by nature rather than cast in cement. 

 


 

                                        The Mitchell stone at Violet Town

 

The Trail book graciously reminds us that Mitchell wasn’t the only explorer of note – by pointing out that also at Violet Town there is acknowledgement of Hamilton Hume and William Hovell, who passed by some twelve years earlier than Mitchell, in December 1824.


 


                                        The Hume and Hovell cairn at Violet Town

 

Remember Stapylton?  Back on 19 September his group had stayed behind the main expedition to allow the cattle to recover strength.  He’d resumed his journey after two weeks; and the Trail book records that the Stapylton party arrived at the Goulburn River two weeks after Mitchell had moved on.  As ordered, Stapylton made camp to await the return of the boat from the Murray.

 

13 October was the day of the expedition’s tragedy, when James (“Tally-ho”) Taylor was drowned while attempting to cross the Broken River (then known as the Swampy River).  Taylor was Mitchell’s groom and trumpeter.  The drowning occurred a little south of the present railway bridge in Benalla. 

 

The Trail book states that near the entrance to the Benalla Art Gallery “is a granite boulder with a plaque, the wording of which most comprehensively recognises Mitchell’s stature”, and which states that Mitchell camped near there on 13 October 1836.  Fatigue must have been upon us, for we failed to see the boulder.  Searching my notes for some memory trigger I find one word only: “Demolished!”

 

The Trail book has fulsome praise for the country between Benalla and Wangaratta, that is the particular landscape traversed by Mitchell, taking in first Greta, then Glenrowan.  Both are by-passed by today’s highway; and both are suffused today with Kelly Country legend, legend forged by Ned some 40 years after Mitchell passed by.

 

The Trail book attests to the presence of a Mitchell memorial cairn at Wangaratta, but having overnighted and breakfasted there we decided to continue on, and to locate the Wangaratta memorial on our return later in the day.  That day was moving along quickly, and at Chiltern we were fortunate to find a branch of the Upper Murray Regional Library, and to find that library open.  Chiltern, with a population fewer than 1600, is fortunate to have a public library, albeit one opening for three days a week only.  We were twice lucky in that the librarian, although never having seen the cairn, had some knowledge of its location a few kilometres out of town.  And so it proved.

 


         
       About five kilometres from Chiltern, where Mitchell passed on 17 October 1836

 

There must have been some excitement in the air, for on the same day the party covered the more than ten kilometres from the Chiltern camp, and were able by nightfall to descend to the “low verdant alluvial flats of the Murray”.  Here is the full entry from the Trail book for the next day, 18 October 1836: “The day was spent searching for and making a safe crossing of the Murray, which the cattle eventually achieved by evening. Mitchell and some of his party camped near the far bank of the Murray on the north-western edge of present-day Howlong.  The rest of Mitchell’s men remained on the other bank for the night, with the horses and carts.”  The balance of the expedition – carts, horses, and men – crossed the Murray on the next morning, and that is the last we hear of them in The Major Mitchell Trail book.  Except that – late change of plan – rather than take back the boat for the Stapyleton party to cross the Goulburn, a four-man team returned with the objective of building a raft for that purpose.

 

Meanwhile, the present-day pilgrims were in the home stretch!....... but not without a final bit of confusion.  The Trail book, more than once, directed us “towards” Howlong, Howlong across the Murray, Howlong in New South Wales.  We took this as meaning “to” Howlong, and should have realised that the 1936 Victorian commemorative cairns  project would not likely have resulted in a cairn across the river.  So, back in Victoria, we found the final cairn in the grounds of the Gooramadda public hall.

 




                                        The final cairn along the Trail – 17 October 1836

 

The gate was open, and we parked in the grounds of the hall.  While inspecting the cairn we were approached by a woman, a local who was preparing the hall for a family occasion at the weekend.  She was curious that we were curious, had always been aware of the cairn, but knew little of it.  This is typical of the disinterest we have encountered along the Trail.  Major Mitchell and his achievement seems no longer to be embedded in the popular consciousness.

 

Later, back at Wangaratta, we searched in vain for the cairn referenced in the Trail book.  The Information Kiosk at the Performing Arts and Convention Centre [the Visitor Information Centre “has closed”] was devoid of information and we chased the wild goose for an hour before abandoning the chase…...but settled for the two plaques on the bridge over the Ovens River.  

 






It’s unlikely that either of these is the “cairn” referenced in the Trail book but, as Ned from Glenrowan said, such is life!


One final look at Mitchell's achievement, from an old school wall map.  Follow the red line, from Bathurst:

 


Postscript:

 

Mitchell returned to Sydney on 3 November 1836, 15 days after crossing the Murray.  Under direction of the Governor, Mitchell’s report to the Governor was published in the Government Gazette a few days later “for general information”.  That report includes the following passage – remember:  nearly 190 years ago.    It is a no nonsense and gracious conclusion to the remarkable expedition, and the mark of Mitchell the man:

 

“It has been in my power, under the protection of Providence, to explore the vast natural resources of a region more excessive than Great Britain, equally rich in point of soil, and which now lies ready for the plough in many parts, as if specifically prepared by the Creator for the industrious hands of Englishmen.

 

“I have much pleasure in stating that I have reason to be well satisfied with the zeal and perseverance of Mr. Stapylton on all occasions.  It will be seen by this report, and, more fully, by my journal, how well I could rely upon both.

 

“All the men of the party have behaved well, and are returning in safety, with one exception, James Taylor, who was unfortunately drowned in endeavouring to swim a horse across a swampy river on the 13th instant.

 

“I beg leave to bring also under His Excellency the Governor’s notice, ‘Piper’, an aboriginal native of Bathurst, who has accompanied me throughout this eventful journey, and has proved a valuable auxiliary, as will appear in almost every page of my journal.”

 

I invite you, having read Mitchell’s foregoing words, to read them again to yourself aloud.  Mitchell the soldier, the surveyor, the recalcitrant public official, the forceful leader through Victoria for 138 momentous days, was as eloquent as a poet………and his words may bring moisture to your eyes.

 

-------------------------------- 

 

I hesitate to add a cavilling endnote, but after having spent a number of days in the re-tracing of Major Mitchell’s epic journey with the Trail booklet as my guide, I must express my extreme disappointment that that booklet has not been updated since its publication in 1990.  The booklet, admirable as it is, does not provide precise locations of the many Major Mitchell memorial cairns, and a number of them we were simply unable to locate from the descriptions provided.  I can’t say that generally the cairns are in disrepair although some are, but after 88 years some curatorial attention would be welcome.  But, more reprehensible, is the fact that the whole concept of the Trail has disappeared off the Victorian Government’s radar.  

 

After some enquiry I was recently able to direct my concerns to the Department of Environment, Land, Water and Planning.  I suggested that Mitchell’s achievement was significant – the instigators of the memorial cairns in 1936 certainly thought so – and surely there was some niche in Government that might be persuaded to revive the Mitchell cairns (and the Trail book) as a project.  I offered to make direct contact with the responsible Minister.  The senior public servant who responded to my entreaty first indicated that he had a copy of the Trail book “in a cupboard somewhere”, then indicated that he is in charge of “our Statewide State Forest recreation programme and all our visitor sites and trails are available through our More to Explore App”, and added: “We have no plans to add the Major Mitchell Trail to that.”  

 

After my further persistence he confirmed that there are “no plans to resurrect the Major Mitchell Trail” and, moreover, that contacting the Minister would be a waste of time.............communication would be channelled through him, the public servant, “to prepare a response and I suspect you know what that is likely to be”.


Gary Andrews

 

 

Friday, 8 March 2024

THE BOX TREE


 

It has been a feature in my life for over 70 years.  It is a tree, once mighty, now much diminished - a sort of parable for us all.  It stands solitary in a farm paddock near Chinkapook in the Mallee region of Victoria.  This is the area where I hail from, and the particular paddock was once owned by an aunt and uncle and, way before them, by other family.  I make it sound a long time, but white settlement of that part of the State, and thus the arrival of those ancestors with their determination to clear their land and to plant their wheat, was as recently as 1910.  So, not that long ago; but from that year dates the tree’s emergence from the thick mallee eucalypt landscape that the pioneer settlers cleared.  The newcomers left an area of a few acres of scrub, where they scraped a dam for run-off, and built a meagre home with outbuildings, and established a garden; but, essentially, the square-mile block was cleared of trees.  Such was the mindset of the time.

 

Except that they left the big tree standing in the middle of the paddock.

 

Some years ago, I was told that botanists “from the city” had inspected the tree, and they thought that it might be 750 years old – you can now add another 50.  So, more’s the miracle that the land-clearers back in 1910 recognised the tree’s uniqueness, and resisted putting it to the sword.  

 

The tree is a grey box, a Eucalyptus microcarpa, described in the literature as long-lived single-trunked, with grey fibrous flaky bark.  It is typically a tree of woodland plains, and there is no way of knowing whether the tree was originally accompanied by others of its kind, or whether it stood unique among the mallees.  And no way of knowing why this tree chose a habitat not of woodland plains, but of undulating sandhills.  Was the local environment that different 800 years ago?

 

Over the years and the generations, the tree’s generous canopy has provided shade and shelter for sheep, and the same for farmers at lunchtime; and the tangle of fallen limbs and disturbed roots has been a haven for rabbits and foxes – subject always to attack from the latest eradication campaign.  I don’t recall any time of an eagle’s nest – perhaps the tree is not quite tall enough for comfort!  My friend, PK, told me that as a lad in the early 1940s he made piece-rate money “sewing wheat bags” under the tree; and he assured me (some years ago) that there were others in the district who knew of the tree, and had some appreciation of it.  I venture that today that number has been reduced to no more than the present owners……and to my family. 

 

Think also of the years before the white usurpers.  The tree was surely full grown by age 100, so imagine it witnessing at least 500 years of aboriginal homage and myth-making.  The stories that the most recent 100 years can tell are comparatively few indeed – sparse of people, scarce of incident.

 

The activity of the years under the tree and around its roots has meant that no seedling ever survived.  It is the last of its tribe. 

 

Members of my family have known the tree familiarly as The Box Tree, and we’ve proudly shown it to generations of visitors, these days with a sense of regret at the deterioration age has wrought.  That deterioration can be seen from these two images.



This first I took in 1965, near 60 years ago.  A branch has broken off and died, although still attached, and a great limb has sagged to the ground, but the tree is sturdy and alive in every respect.


The second image I took a couple of days ago.   Clearly, recent years have not been kind to The Box Tree.  The fallen limbs in the undergrowth are clear evidence of its many collapses and loss of structure.  Yet, what remains seems robust enough.  My intention in posting this blog had been to pay tribute to the tree “before it’s too late”, but that now seems presumptuous.  Sure, its best years don’t lie ahead, but am I foolish to think that there could be another hundred of them?

 

Gary Andrews