OBJECTS OF THE ASSOCIATION The objects of the Association shall be: i. To foster the care, preservation and proper use of archives and records, both public and private, and their effective administration. ii. To arouse public awareness of the importance of records and archives and in all matters affecting their preservation and use, and to co-operate or affiliate with any other bodies in New Zealand or elsewhere with like objects. iii. To promote the training of archivists, records keepers, curators, librarians and others by the dissemination of specialised knowledge and by encouraging the provision of adequate training in the administration and conservation of archives and records. iv. To encourage research into problems connected with the use, administration and conservation of archives and records and to promote the publication of the results of this research. v. To promote the standing of archives institutions. vi. To advise and support the establishment of archives services throughout New Zealand. vii. To publish a journal at least once a year and other publications in furtherance of these objects.
MEMBERSHIP Membership of the Association is open to any individual or institution interested in fostering the objects of the Association. Subscription rates are: Within New Zealand $45 (individuals) $75 (institutions) Two individuals living at the same joint address can take a joint membership $55; this entitles both to full voting rights at meetings, but only one copy of Archifacts. Overseas $75 (individuals) $95 (institutions) Applications to join the Association, membership renewals and correspondence on related matters should be addressed to: The Membership Secretary ARANZ PO Box 11-553 Manners Street Wellington New Zealand ARCHIFACTS
Editor: Brad Patterson
Editorial Committee: Kevin Molloy Kathryn Patterson
Reviews Editor: Stuart Strachan
Archifacts is published twice-yearly, in April and October.
Articles and correspondence should be addressed to the Editor at: PO Box 11-553 Wellington
Intending contributors should obtain a style sheet from the Editorial Committee. Articles and reviews should be submitted both in hard copy and on disk.
Printed by McKenzie Thornton Cooper Ltd, Wellington.
© Copyright ARANZ 2002
ISSN 0303-7940
ii ARCHIFACTS
Published by the Archives and Records Association of New Zealand
October Contents
Editorial ν
Articles Michael Piggott Aussie Rules: The Present State of Australian University Archives and Records 1
Stuart Strachan Advantage and Adventition: The Case of the Hocken Library, University of Otago, Dunedin .. 17
Kat Turner Archival Theory and Electronic Records: A Case for Pragmatism? 35
Comment Joanna Newman Services to Education: The Experience of the Wellington City Archives 47
Paddianne W. Neely Archives at the College Coalface 55
Review Article Doug Munro Looking for the Phoenix 6l
Reviews Lord Chancellor's The Forty-third Annual Report of the Keeper Office of Public Records on the work of the Public Record Office and the Forty-third Report of the Advisory Council on Public Records 2001-2002 71
Archives Annual Report of Archives New Zealand for New Zealand the nine months ending 30 fune 2001 71 Second Annual Report of Archives New Zealand for the period 1 fuly 2001 to 30 fune 2002 (Stuart Strachan) 71
iii Richard Cox Archives and the Public Good. Accountability David Wallace and Records in Modern Society (eds) (John Roberts) 74
Simon Ville The Rural Entrepreneurs: A History of the Stock and Station Industry in Australia and New Zealand (Brad Patterson) 77
R.C J. Stone From Tamaki-Makau-Rau to Auckland (Jeanette Wikaira) 80
Bronwyn Dalley Living in the 20th Century: New Zealand History in Photographs 1900-1980 (Kathryn Patterson) 83
iv Editorial It's Your Journal
This issue is the last to appear under the present editor. After eight years in the role, following intermittent stints as an associate and guest editor, it is time to stand down, to pass on the style book and that particular red pen. In fact, it is probably well past time. While the importance of continuity in the production of any publication should never be underestimated, there is always the risk of stasis if the same guiding hands remain at the helm for too long. As with the wider organisation, indeed all organisations, there is a constant need for reinvigoration, for the injection of new ideas and new approaches. What these ideas and approaches may be remains to be seen; they may not always sit entirely comfortably with those who have gone before, but sometimes that is the price of further development. Ultimately, Archifacts is the financial members' journal; ultimately, it is they who should decide what it should be and where it should go. As a contribution to debate, the following reflections are offered. Archifacts commenced publication in 1974, under the editorship of Stuart Strachan, as the Bulletin of the Archives Committee of the New Zealand Library Association. Necessarily unpretentious in design - it was then wholly financed, and distributed free, by the Hocken Library - the nine issues to appear to October 1976 were each of a dozen plus photocopied A4 pages, stapled in the top left hand corner. The first modest move upmarket' came in February 1977 when, still under Stuart Strachan's editorship, Archifacts was adopted as the official Bulletin' of the newly-formed ARANZ, a fresh numbering series being adopted.The most obvious manifestations of the new regime, apart from the fact that the publication was no longer distributed free of charge, was the introduction of saddle-stapled binding and card covers, although camera- ready typescript was retained. This broad format served for the next 12 years and 46 (generally) quarterly issues. Each issue was around 40 pages, the exception being those carrying conference proceedings, which could be double the normal size. The first major format change came in late 1989, at the suggestion of new editor Jane McRae and her Auckland-based support team, the catalyst being a switch to twice-yearly production, with shorter notices and comments transferred to a quarterly newsletter. The result was an altogether more elegant, finely designed 260mm χ 168mm publication, typeset on good quality paper, with at least 80 pages per issue. It was in keeping with the new format
ν Archifacts of Archifacts, and the consequent ability to publish more substantial papers, that in 1992 Council accepted a further recommendation that the publication's designation be changed from Bulletin' to 'Journal'. Though technical and cost considerations have motivated further occasional changes to internal layout, paper stock and size, the most notable being reduction to A5 format in 1996, Archifacts has consistently offered scope for 60-70,000 words of archives and records related writing annually. Is this the optimum format? Not necessarily. As Jane McRae suggested over ten years ago: 'a society's journal can be anything it wants (and can afford)'. It can be an 'object of beauty', consuming a major portion of the budget and providing space for regular well- researched and written articles. Or it can be plain, make relatively moderate demands on the budget, be slight in its content, even be published only occasionally. Or it can be something in between. Again echoing Jane McRae, it all depends on how much ARANZians want to write, read and spend'. What, then, of the content over the years? Reflecting in 1995 on two decades of Archifacts, founding editor Stuart Strachan was of the view that 'despite the inevitable changes wrought by time and maturity, . . . [the publication's] . . . content, and the concerns expressed in it . . . [had] . . . remained remarkably constant'. Throughout, editorials had reflected 'current preoccupations'. The major change, he felt, was that articles had become far more substantial in all respects, even commentaries and reviews lengthening. The content as whole should be considered a 'richly-textured record of archives in New Zealand over two decades'. Those were essentially impressionistic observations, but in 1998 Victoria University MLIS student Nancy-Anne Bakker subjected Archifacts to more extended and scientific scrutiny. In her content analysis of the journal between 1977-1996, she sought 'to measure and identify the state of New Zealand's archives profession' through the type, authorship and sophistication of articles. She also endeavoured to establish whether ARANZ's broad-based constituency had significantly influenced the content of its journal. All contributions were classified in five-year blocks, according to article type (research report, service report, commentary, book review) and author type (practitioner, vocational user, avocational user, other). Bakker came up with a number of interesting findings. From the outset there had been a weighting towards short articles - opinion pieces, notes. Although the 1990 change of format had facilitated the submission of more substantial research papers, there was no immediate appreciable upsurge in the publication of such pieces. The most popular topics over the full 20 years had been accounts of historical research, reports on repositories and their
vi Editorial holdings, and commentary on education, training and professional development. From the late 1980s, however, generalist articles on research and repositories had fallen away, as had articles on special format archives and records. Instead, in the 1990s, more papers on archives policy and core archival functions appeared. Articles on records management tended to fluctuate, probably in response to external stimuli. Bakker's research also disposed of the occasionally advanced proposition that Archifacts has been largely an outlet for user articles. Over the 20 years surveyed, practitioners made up roughly half of all contributors, a further quarter being 'vocational users', including professional researchers and information-oriented academics. Curiously, however, the number of publishing practitioners sagged slightly in the early 1990s. Bakker also found that since 1976 male contributors had exceeded female contributors at a ratio of around 3:1. It may be observed that in the four years post Bakker's research discernible trends in Archifacts have been a greater number of researched professional- interest papers, but always coupled with papers of wider appeal, a minor resurgence in practitioner publishing and, serendipitously, a stronger representation of female contributors. Is Archifacts meeting members expectations? Despite a number of kind commendatory comments in recent years, it is difficult to objectively assess just how the publication is being received by the bulk of its target audience. While a comprehensive survey of readers in the near future has been mooted, the findings of a recent wider membership survey by Stephanie van Gaalen may serve as a handy interim measuring stick. Three questions specifically sought information relating to the journal. The first requested respondents to rate Archifacts on a scale running from 1 (unsatisfactory) to 5 (excellent). Nearly 70% of respondents rated Archifacts in classes 4 and 5. In contrast, around 6% considered the journal to be less than satisfactory, although no respondent relegated it to class 1. On the basis that few publications can ever hope to fully meet the needs or interests of the whole of a potential readership, this result can be considered reassuring. What was more surprising were the responses to the second request for information: an estimate of the percentage of each issue read. Well over half of the respondents (54%) indicated that they read more than half of the material in each journal received; indeed, nearly 40% claimed to read at least three-quarters of the content. At a time when the quick scanning of incoming professional journals has become the norm for many if not most readers, this response is at least suggestive that Archifacts continues to serve a useful purpose. Some may contend that the survey return rate (30%) is too limited to come to significant
vii Archifacts conclusions, but it compares more than favourably with most postal surveys. Further, it is axiomatic that dissatisfaction is generally more likely to impel stronger responses than satisfaction or, less happily, indifference. A surprising number of respondents to the van Gaalen Survey accepted an invitation to offer comment on present Archifacts content or suggestions for future content. As might be anticipated, there were widely varying, sometimes totally contradictory, views. For instance, while several respondents felt the journal in its present form to be 'too ponderous', to be in need of'lightening up' through even shorter articles and more illustrations, possibly through greater promotion of advertising, others conversely urged the need for more heavier duty content. One suggestion was that there be greater emphasis on publishing the results of relevant academic research, much material in theses and research papers being otherwise inaccessible to the information profession(s). Others, however, complained that there were already too many articles on 'theories and policies', urging the need for 'more practical' articles ('how people have improved services, how they found better ways of working'). In similar vein, several respondents sought more overviews of institutions ('how they do things, what are their collection policies'). A recurring theme was the need for more articles on records management topics. Opinion was divided as to whether the journal should retain its distinctively New Zealand flavour or seek to publish more overseas-sourced material. Unexpectedly, there were strong pleas for historical' articles of various types: on the use of archives and records by researchers, on the history of recordkeeping in New Zealand in New Zealand, on key national documents. Allied were requests for thé restoration of several past features; for example, regular reports on particular institutions and/or their collections, and the publication of up-to-date accessions lists. While almost certainly it will be impossible to satisfy everybody, these observations and suggestions will undoubtedly be taken into account in pending discussions on the future character of Archifacts. One of Nancy-Anne Bakker's findings in her 1998 research paper was that individual editorial policies had apparently little obvious impact on journal content over the years. Nor, notwithstanding the understandable foci on events such as the Smith and Ham visits, or 'the Archives case' of the late 1990s, is there evidence of undue Council influence or comment. Archifacts has always primarily reflected expressed member concerns and interests. Hence it should be possible to readily address some of the lacunae identified, to adjust the content mix. It is necessary, however, to temper member expectations,
viii Editorial sometimes demands, with a little realism. A wider range of articles - shorter or longer, heavier or lighter, professional or generalist - will be dependent on the willingness of members, those with notionally the greatest interest, to provide the necessary copy. Yet, sadly, suitable copy, always in short supply, is becoming even more difficult to secure. As Bakker has noted, practitioner contributions have not matched the growth in profession numbers, while user contributors, perhaps unsure of their welcome, have tended to drift to other publication outlets. This highlights a question. Who but practitioners are to provide the 'practical' articles sought? Whereas up until the early 1990s conference papers tended to be separately published, or in addition to standard content, such papers now constitute an Archifacts staple.The paucity of articles on records management owes more to the reluctance of those at the file faces - paper or electronic - to record their thoughts and opinions than to any disinclination on the part of successive editors to publish. Discontinuance of the publication of accessions lists was a direct outcome of the reluctance of institutions to supply them. The reality is that no Archifacts editor has yet had the luxury of being able to turn potential contributors or contributions away! Preparation of an issue is more frequently an anxious hunt to find sufficient copy to fill the page allocation. Undoubtedly, there are explanations, certainly rationalisations, for the disinclination of the great majority of members to contribute, the most commonly advanced being competing pressures in home and workplace. But until there is wider recognition that publication is a measure of professionalism the journal content is unlikely to alter greatly. Another issue the Association may have to address in the near future is just how more members can be encouraged to participate actively in the physical production and distribution of Archifacts. Notwithstanding the helpful suggestions for improvements elicited by the van Gaalen Survey, there was a disappointingly thin reaction to a linked request for indications of willingness to assist. Arguably, too much has traditionally been expected of voluntary editors and their small support teams (or families!). If the journal is to continue in its present, or a like, format, it is imperative that a more cooperative approach, something previously flirted with, be adopted. The indications are that few appear to appreciate that the production of an issue may require the equivalent of several weeks full-time work, sometimes far more. Beyond the initial soliciting of papers or commitments to write, once copy is in hand a sometimes protracted procedure is initiated. With a Council requirement since 1999 that all major papers submitted be subject to refereeing, several drafts generally pass between author and
ix Archifacts editor. The latter's contribution may vary from simple copy-editing to the suggestion of major structural or stylistic changes. Ultimately, once sufficient copy for an issue has been assembled, it has to be logically organised, checked for conformity with conventions , then dispatched to the printers in electronic form.There are generally two proof checks before the end product is delivered, it then falling to the editor to organise the packaging and postage of Archifacts. How might the load be lessened? It is doubtful that the answer lies in making the job of editor an appropriately remunerated position, or in divesting distribution to a mail handling firm. ARANZ is simply too small to be able to introduce or sustain more than a token honorarium, or to pay unnecessary premiums for the enveloping and posting of its journal, without raising subscriptions to levels that may hinder, recruitment and member retention. It may lie more in the editor effectively becoming managing editor, with clearly identified contributory functions being delegated to designated members of a wider production team. There is, after all, no particular reason why the same individual should be both commissioning and copy editor, as well as chief proof reader and dispatcher. What character Archifacts will assume in future, and how and in what format it is to be produced, are matters that should, indeed must, be debated as a matter of urgency, and by the wider membership as much as by Council. Whatever the current Association preoccupations, this journal remains its most visible public face, both within New Zealand and to wider professional worlds. Lest earlier comments be construed as captious complaints, it must be recorded that the past eight years in the editorial seat have been a generally rewarding, often stimulating, experience; never more so than in the late 1990s when the Association itself was in campaigning mode.The responsibility has sometimes been a joy, often a challenge, only very occasionally (and then mostly as a result of other pressures) a worry and a burden. Several expressions of thanks are in order. To three Presidents and successive Councils, my gratitude for permitting me, within set financial parameters, a virtually free hand in the production of the journal. Grateful thanks must also be expressed to two skilled reviews editors, David Green (1995-1999) and Stuart Strachan (2000-), the latter recently assisted by Peter Miller. Appreciation, too, is due to those individuals who at various times offered support as members of the now defunct Editorial Committee: Gavin McLean, John Roberts, Adrienne Simpson, Russell Clarke and Doug Munro. I have learnt much about printing from Graeme Collins and Walter Annear of MTC. Graeme's eye for detail has protected me from many a proof-reading error and their willingness to accommodate and
χ Editorial adjust to the late arrival of copy has been greatly appreciated. I am particularly indebted in recent years to Kathryn Patterson and Kevin Molloy. Indeed, throughout my tenure, the former has acted virtually as co-editor, sharing the reading of manuscripts, undertaking corrections, typing editorials, organising supplies and envelopes and stamps, attending to the minutiae. For the past two years the latter has served as an associate editor, and the Association has reason to be grateful that he has now agreed to accept the post of editor. He will need your support. Haere ra. Brad Patterson
xi Archifacts
xii Aussie Rules: The Present State of Australian University Archives and Records *
Michael Piggott
University Archivist University of Melbourne
In Archives and Manuscripts nearly 40 years ago, Professor Fred Alexander published 'Some thoughts on archives and records in Australian Universities'. He warned readers that his article did not presume to be a comprehensive and critical analysis of the archival resources or recordkeeping procedures of the several Australian universities'. He confined the article solely to the University of Western Australia, whose golden jubilee history he had just published, because: 'The opinion may be hazarded that no archivist or historian exists who has the knowledge necessary for such a general survey'.1 This stilted phrasing warned against being over ambitious, and incidentally masked a very modern appreciation of the essential unity of archives and records issues. If a general survey of ten universities was out of the question then, it certainly is not possible now to cover nearly four times the number! So, like Alexander, I want to offer 'some thoughts on archives and records' rather than attempt a general survey. Before doing so - and in good time I'll attempt to justify the 'Aussie Rules' part of the title - let me say that I was surprised, flattered and honoured when approached late last year with your invitation to deliver the present address. It thus provides the opportunity to make several New Zealand acknowledgements. The first is to express great admiration for the professional and moral courage shown by your Association in opposing the plan proposed several years ago to subsume the National Archives into a Heritage Group business unit. The Australian Society of Archivists (ASA) has yet to find such resolve.2
* Text of Keynote Address delivered to 26th ARANZ Annual Conference, Palmerston North, 23 August 2002.
1 Archifacts
My other acknowledgements are more personal, arising firstly from my term with the Manuscripts Section at the National Library of Australia in the 1970s, where I encountered not only Cook's holograph Endeavour journal, but the work of that equally renowned world authority on Cook, the Victoria University academic Dr J. C. Beaglehole (New Zealand's second holder of the Order of Merit). Other archives- centred scholarly names encountered then, such as Dr Guy Scholefield, are long gone, but other more contemporary names also come fleetingly to mind and eye, such as JimTraue, Michael Hoare and Stuart Strachan.3 A tour of duty at the Canberra War Memorial highlighted another very strong Australia/New Zealand link, but it also helped bring home the similarities and differences in the way we each document and commemorate the experience of war. I learnt there that the term ANZAC, a sacred word in Australia, protected from commercial use by legislation, can have a connotation much earlier than Gallipoli. I'm referring (with some diffidence) to the fact that Australians were involved in your Land Wars of the 1860s.The War Memorial in Canberra makes the most fleeting mention of those conflicts, saving its real unease for the frontier conflicts between indigenous and settler Australians, which its charter prevents it from properly acknowledging. My year at the University of New South Wales in 1986 brought me in contact with the Scaddens and Stoddarts; but also, via research for a thesis on the visit to the antipodes of that evangelizing American archivist, Theodore Roosevelt Schellenberg, I learnt the names of pioneering New Zealand archivists such as Michael Standish, F.H.Rogers and Pamela Cocks.4 Subsequently, at the National Archives in the 1990s, particularly when wearing a training hat, there was contact with Kathryn Patterson. Finally, attendance across the years at ASA conferences brought acquaintance with more New Zealand names: from Tom Wilsted to Michael Hoyle and John Roberts, the former addressing us before returning to the States in the late 1970s on another archival/sporting theme of 'Scoring Archival Goals'.5 I am close to going that logical but dangerous next step of listing Australian archivists who have made their mark in New Zealand, and vice versa. As an alternative last preliminary point, let me acknowledge the enormous debt we owe in Australia firstly to Mary Ronnie, for nurturing the teaching of archives and records at Monash University during its difficult early years of the late 1980s and early 1990s; also for the Invercargill-born and Dunedin-raised Ian Maclean, our foundation government archivist. He is undoubtedly your most famous archival export.6
2 The Present State of Australian University Archives and Records
My aim in this paper is to offer some 'state of the union' type thoughts on the Australian university archives and records scene. So I am about to do possibly the only thing worse than an outsider parading as an expert from 'away'; that is, describe a situation in an overseas country, a prospect unlikely to have the same interest as an immediate local issue.There is, of course, the argument that all aspects of archives and records are intrinsically interesting to a genuine professional! Regardless, a good number of you would have some familiarity with the Australian archival scene, and there are no doubt certain common features and problems.
The 'Aussie Rules' Metaphor Let me now deal directly with the conference organisers' suggested title, Aussie Rules'. It was a relief that this peculiarly Australian sporting code was nominated, for it would be a very foolish Australian who wanted to mention on this side of the Tasman almost any other sport you so excel in: yachting, horse racing, mountaineering, netball, union, league, or what - in Trevor Chappell's immoral mind - passed for cricket. 'Aussie rules', in fact, serves as a neutral and surprisingly apt metaphor for the Australian university sector and its archives and records scene. In freeze frame, it, like the field positions taken when Aussie rules play begins, appears uniform and stable - a perception in both cases that breaks down the moment the camera re-starts. It, like the 16 clubs formed following the expansion of the Victorian Football League to the national AFL competition, has seen amalgamations, collapses and relocations. It, like all the clubs, is subject to funding shortfalls and, in some cases, funding crises. (Four universities were in the red last year.) Rationalisation is collectively accepted as inevitable in both sectors, and just as tenaciously individually resisted. During the year, coaches and vice-chancellors have resigned. Both sectors have been touched by the kinds of scandal so loved by the tabloids: the footy season began with the Kangaroos captain Wayne Carey caught having an affair with the wife of the vice-captain Anthony Stevens, while the equally high profile Kernot-Evans affair, which re-surfaced following the launch of her memoirs, drew attention to Gareth Evans' wife, the Monash University academic Professor Merran Evans. Football and education have become increasingly commercial in pursuit of television ratings and sponsorship on the one hand, and full-fee-paying overseas students and the corporate and philanthropic dollars on the other. And us? I like to think archivists and records managers are the club doctors, physiotherapists, sports psychologists and masseurs. Both are absolutely essential enablers of
3 Archifacts the core business; both can be expected to wear multiple hats; and, too often, both are looked to only in a crisis. Indulging your patience for one further moment, there are yet further parallels - imagine, for example, a world-wide popular survey on the meaning of the term football; it would elicit as much diversity and confusion as the term archive. But briefly, let me draw attention to one more direct set of connections. Some clubs, especially those Melbourne-based, founded in the late 19th century, have established their own archives and museums. Their home grounds are sites of memory, constantly reinforced and drawn on to buttress tradition, morale, continuity and club spirit. As for recordkeeping, of the innumerable dimensions, one of the most interesting is the use of video replays in laying charges of rough play. This has become such a contested issue that there are now specialist media companies which will provide video copies of triangulated views of entire games to assist the legal representatives of charged players. There are times when what looked like a certain four weeks suspension was in fact a wild swing and overacting.
Universities and Records As with any and all organisations, universities have a business need to create and keep records. Here, stifling a yawn, we recall the usual suspects' from the days of general disposal authorities for common administrative records: staffing, finance and so on. What is distinctive about university archives and records is the extent to which they are so integral to the core purposes of the modern university: firstly, teaching and learning; and secondly, and much later, research. The very terms used (certification, credential, chancellery, diploma, enrolment, registrar, transcript, testamur) say it all. As this general point has been well covered by the MIT archivist Helen Samuels in Varsity Letters,7 I want simply to highlight three points: • Firstly, recordkeeping underpins, indeed is part of, the entire life-cycle of university-student relationships. It is fundamental to authenticating entrance conditions and requirements, and to documenting attendance and assessment, and culminates in the graduation or various forms of official ruling about non-graduation - provided, of course, that there is trustworthy evidence that all relevant conditions have been met, such as that all fees and fines have been paid. • Secondly, recordkeeping and research are similarly intertwined, the entire concept of modern investigation, peer reviewing and so on being evidence-based, be it documenting an experiment or producing
4 The Present State of Australian University Archives and Records
and defending a thesis based on original research (Both can raise additional recordkeeping issues, too: for example, when teaching leads to staff/student misconduct, and research practice leads to plagiarism or scientific fraud, and whistle blowing8). • Thirdly; next to the state libraries, Australian universities hold some of our most significant collections of private archives, and the older ones especially (via their own official records) retain vast quantities of genealogical, social and heritage resources.
The Australian University Scene: Archives and Records There are 39 universities in Australia,9 as well as four other self- accrediting higher education institutions (Batchelor Institute of Indigenous Tertiary Education, Australian Maritime College, Melbourne College of Divinity, and the Australian, Film,Television and Radio School). For completeness - and because they have archives and records needs too - one should also note the existence of 85 other higher education providers accredited by state and territory authorities. These include theological colleges and providers with a specialist interest in particular vocational or artistic fields. It has become established practice to treat the technical institutions separately (here I mean politically, financially, and even culturally). I follow this convention. Frankly, it is challenging (and confusing) enough to address just the universities. One of the leading scholars of the contemporary higher education scene, Simon Marginson, has famously. categorised the 39 by architectural criteria into sandstones, redbricks, gumtrees, unitechs and new universities.10 This conveniently orders them into historical groupings as well, and alludes to the essential point I want to highlight from this perfunctory introduction of the Australian university scene, i.e. that: • a significant minority were established in the computer era; • most are creations of amalgamations; and • about 50% predate the emergence of archives and records management as distinct occupations, and of modern ideas about archives and records management. Yet it is as true of those established in the 1850s as of those created in the great expansion beginning in the 1950s that universities did manage to manage their records. The administrative, teaching and research machines ticked over. Traditionally, the function fell to the Registrar who headed the key central administrative unit servicing governing bodies, central committees, offices of senior executives and
5 Archifacts the like. Under their control, central registries were established and magnificent long running series of minutes and files created. The Registrars were often powerful men; and definitely were always included in lists of senior university office-holders, along with vice-chancellors, academic board presidents and university librarians. Their recordkeeping roles warrant closer attention from historians,11 which is not to say they were model (or our sole) predecessors. Fred Alexander, mentioned earlier, makes the point in describing Western Australia's foundation accountant, whose simple accountancy methods, like his filing, remained a good deal of a mystery, fully understood only by himself and by God'. Appointments with the title archivist' began to be made in the 1950s (University of Sydney, Australian National University) and 1960s (University of Melbourne), and with the title records manager' in the 1970s. Further appointments were made in the late 1980s and early 1990s, following the Dawkins reforms, which resulted in a series of rapid amalgamations of technical colleges and colleges of advanced education.12 It has been a slow expansion since then, stimulated by the creation of new universities, anniversaries, and awareness of the need for administrative efficiency and statutory compliance. The archives and records scene today has been shaped by all manner of factors both historical and local, and reveals considerable variation and, at least in the staffing, considerable volatility.13 Nevertheless, there is value and convenience in describing the main types of set-ups preparatory to looking at issues and opportunities. As explained by the Charles Sturt University archivist Don Boadle in a series of studies in the late 1990s, there are two main types of university recordkeeping models: • an integrated operation in which archives and records are unified, i.e. there is commonly a single reporting point, typically within a central administrative unit; and • a split model, in which the archives is a collector of more than the university's official records and typically reports within the library structure, with a separate records management unit focusing exclusively on current recordkeeping services and issues.
Issues Based on a survey conducted earlier this year by the ASA, all evidence is that the pattern just described remains accurate, but that if anything the groupings are broadening or seeking to link up with kindred functions. The integrated operations, as likely as not, are now performing privacy and FOI roles, being consulted by systems integration projects
6 The Present State of Australian University Archives and Records covering finance HR and student systems, even widening their involvement as 'consultants' with traditionally devolved or quarantined records areas.The more traditional archives have also colonised laterally', with pure collecting archives taking on the older university records, and others embracing special collections and rare books (in my own case, the Grainger Museum) A group of institutions in New South Wales have long performed a regional repository role for State Records.14 Those two features aside, the survey revealed considerable staffing volatility, funding cuts, concern at the requirements of new government archives legislation, and a very clear desire for sector representation. These and several deeper patterns warrant a closer look.
Relationship with the Relevant Government Archives Almost all Australian universities are established under state and territory legislation and thus, to varying degrees, are subject to relevant records legislation. In the national capital, the Australian National University was established by federal legislation and is thus subject to national archives legislation, while the University of Canberra will become subject to new Australian Capital Territory records legislation. Finally, there are a handful of universities that in effect are companies (Australian Catholic University, Bond University, Notre Dame) and thus fall outside specific, but not all general, statutory records control. The pattern of co-operation between universities and government archives inevitably varies from state to state - as with so much about Australia! I will leave further detailed comment for now, but suffice it to say that in the past interactions have ranged from: • very close and happy relations, including cases where a university outsources its archival function to the State Records Office, for example, the relationship between the University of Tasmania and the Archives Office of Tasmania; through to • direct challenges, disputing that the state archives has a meaningful role at all (my own university having been one of the worst 'offenders').15 In between there have been variations peculiar to each state, the most remarkable being the New South Wales arrangement between the regional universities and the State Record Office whereby the universities operate a network of regional repositories and public reading rooms. Today, the relationship of publicly-funded universities with the state continues to be a compromise, balancing their autonomy with full accountability, but a series of legislative reforms in the past 10-15 years (covering financial, audit, privacy and FOI issues) has shifted that
7 Archifacts balance considerably. New records laws in New South Wales, Queensland and Western Australia have put the issue beyond doubt, while in Victoria the development in early 2002 of an Authority for Records of Higher and Further Education Institutions (PROS 02/01) drew a good cross- section of co-operation and underlined the Victorian PRO'S central role, albeit exercised by steering from a distance'. The impact of these changes is that a number of universities face some serious catching up, and even those with well run recordkeeping operations will have to lift their game. To quote one Western Australian colleague: The new legislation doesn't change our actual standing - we had accepted that our records were state records even under the old . . .The requirement to prepare, submit, monitor and review the Recordkeeping Plan is the main change and it will be huge . . . I maintain that it will be worse for the unis than anyone else, because we are such diverse organisations .. . we are just applying for funding for approx 1.5 staff for the next two years, with ongoing assistance for up to three months annually to continue the reviewing and monitoring process ... take a look at the Minimum Compliance standards that have been issued (they are not optional either). It won't be too bad for central admin records, but we've only maintained an advisory service in the past for faculties, depts, centres and units - now it seems we will have to be much more prescriptive and involved. Providing training for ALL STAFF for starters.16 As for Queensland, an experienced university records manager has observed: Prior to the new act it is fair to say that little attention was paid to recordkeeping issue [s] by most Qld universities . . . Since the new Act came into play a lot has changed. QSA [Queensland State Archives] has raised its profile. The appointment of a new State Archivist has helped . . . QSA have additional resources with new positions to draft policies and standards which did not exist before. The drafting and consultation was widespread with Universities being involved with the process. Once the policies and standards were in place they were communicated to Universities by letters from the State Archivist ... I think there would be widespread concerns about state government interference in the autonomy of universities, something which is traditionally a hot potato in Qld and I suspect elsewhere.The more obvious avenue to judge a change in recordkeeping practices will be via the recordkeeping plans that all agencies under the Public Records Act are required to complete. I suspect that over time some measures will be made of whether
8 The Present State of Australian University Archives and Records
there are changes occurring. Anecdotal evidence suggests there is widespread activity by universities to examine procedures and introduce new systems. I have experienced an upturn in inquiries from other Qld universities about recordkeeping standards including visits and supplying background material on [our] systems . . .The requirement to develop recordkeeping plans has no doubt kicked off the activity but a question mark still remains as to how much will be taken on board.17
Maintaining Support for Recordkeeping As noted earlier, the picture emerging from the ASA's survey of Australian university archives and records units reveals a considerable degree of volatility, under-resourcing and limited senior managerial understanding and support. In addition to the opportunity new state archives legislation now provides for leverage, there is wider acceptance that publicly-funded universities must be subject to compliance with privacy, FOI, whistleblowers, copyright and other legislation. Thus a growing number of heads of records management units, and of combined archives and records units, have taken on responsibilities for combinations of these. In some cases this is now acknowledged in position titles. To quote one university records manager, whose title was recently changed to that of'Manager, Compliance and Corporate Information', who positively embraced the opportunity, and who at times acts as University Secretary: Certainly my ability/willingness to assume greater responsibility in the wider Division of the University Secretary has resulted in direct benefits for the archives. It all helps to foster a perception of relevance and usefulness in relation to the archives. We look more like 'core business' as opposed to simply attractive icing for an established university. It has been advantageous to be involved with other aspects of university wide activities, to contribute a 'records' perspective, engender greater respect for our area and influence outcomes which otherwise would have been opportunities lost to us.18 This tactic in fact began to be used (e.g. by Tim Robinson at the University of Sydney19 ) almost as soon as privacy and FOI issues emerged on the Australian scene in the late 1980s. Jurisdictional Responsibility One of the most basic requirements of an optimum archives and records regime is complete 'single mind' jurisdictional coverage. The point is best understood within the wider government archives and records sector, and arises whenever legislative reform is being discussed.
9 Archifacts
In the Australian higher education scene, there are several classic areas that have fallen outside the reach of the archivist and records manager. This is partly because the boundaries of the university and the community and business sectors have never been simple and clear cut. Increasingly, however, the organisations that traditionally populated the ill-defined grey between them, such as affiliated colleges, have been joined by semi-autonomous and auxiliary bodies, controlled entities, and 'bodies charged for services'. Their records, in many cases highly significant, have little attraction to the hard-pressed Registrar or University Secretary. My own university is typical, explicitly ruling them to be outside the central responsibility of its records management programme. As for non-official archival records, there are several classic categories that can readily become orphans within universities. Obvious examples are the personal papers of academics, benefactors, chancellors and the like, as well as the records of student and staff clubs, societies and organisations. Universities with combined records services, in particular, have little incentive to actively collect such materials. A third kind of disjunction, one possibly more potential than actual, exists in universities where archival collections are managed outside the traditional understanding of the role of a university archivist. Some typical examples are archival collections administered within library special collections, departmental museums, and even units focused on prime ministers. Maintaining Support for Archives Indisputably, change has been the constant within the Australian higher education sector over the past 10-15 years, and this pertains equally when describing the ways archives and records functions have been positioned organisationally and hierarchically. Some archives programmes have in fact disappeared (Northern Territory University, James Cook University), while another very high profile and successful combined programme (University of Queensland) has been split up. None of these changes, however, compare with the fate of the Noel Butlin Archives Centre at the Australian National University in Canberra. In 1997, then again in 2000, the NBAC was threatened with closure, the university arguing that due to funding pressures it could not justify the expense of continued open-ended support. The Centre's experience serves as a warning to all university-based collecting archives, and it is worth looking at it more closely. The comprehensive account of the NBAC's near death experience has yet to be written, and to fully learn from it all the reasons (including the vagaries of personalities) must be understood. But one of the key
10 The Present State of Australian University Archives and Records factors that made the unit vulnerable was declining use of it by ANU scholars and teachers, particularly by those within its host unit, the Research School of Social Sciences. In times of budgetary pressures (and was there ever a time when the opposite prevailed?) it is difficult to resist razor gangs looking for easy savings if use is dropping. A collecting archives' raison d'être in a university, if considered separate from caring for the institution's own history, is to support the core business of teaching, learning and research. And, at the time, NBAC did not house the university's archives. The decline in university use of archives is linked, of course, to declining enrolments in the core disciplines of the social sciences and humanities, in favour of subjects which have clear vocational utility and/ or which attract full-fee-paying international students. 'The Bonfire of the Humanities', some have called it. There has been a parallel development in the postgraduate arena, where course work Masters that can be completed in 18 months are increasingly favoured over longer and research-intensive programmes. Even within declining disciplines such as philosophy, areas with the potential to generate income (such as applied ethics) tend to be offered over those emphasising principles and fundamental concepts. There is a larger trend at work here, one which many commentators have lamented.20 Suffice it to say that the disciplines traditionally most likely to promote research based on primary sources have been in decline. Take the fate of history at universities. There is indisputable evidence that over the past 30 years staff numbers, and undergraduate and postgraduate enrolments, have dramatically declined. In the newer (post- Dawkins) universities, while there are history academics there are virtually no history departments as such. In the older institutions, free- standing history programmes have survived by combining with programmes such as gender, cultural and post-colonial studies. As for specialisations within the discipline such as economic history, there is but one department left and enrolments have all but disappeared,21 a fact which challenges university archives which have built large collections of business archives (such as my own, and the Noel Butlin Archives Centre). Ironically, this is at a time when 30% of Australian students and almost half our overseas students are enrolling to do business studies, a boom such as to prompt the recent establishment of an Australian Business Deans Council. Speaking of history generally, Stuart Macintyre observes: Sometimes the loss of staff has been managed by abandoning geographical areas or periods of history. Sometimes it has resulted from voluntary resignations or posts left vacant after resignation, so
11 Archifacts
that it is no longer possible to study medieval history at this one or modern German history at that one. Once the specialist scholar goes, postgraduate supervision ceases, serial subscriptions are discontinued, monograph collections lapses. Before long, the scholarly resources so carefully built up are reduced to a derelict wasteland.22 [Emphasis added] He could easily have been describing the NBAC. It is probably fair to say that the new theoretical influences on the historians who remain have also helped moved archival sources from centre stage. To draw on a second Macintyre observation, the 'appreciation of language as self- reflexive rather than reflective of some prior and objective historical reality opened a gap between traditional ways of writing history and the newer modes of interpretation'.23 The obvious response was to encourage additional use, firstly by reminding one's own teachers and researchers of the riches available, but also by attempting serious fund raising from and through depositors (though both are easier said than done when staffing numbers are dropping). A more immediate tactic has been to widen the campaign. The threat to the Butlin triggered a strong response, including the formation of an aggressive Friends group, saw the National Library and National Archives refusing to take the collections when a collection break-up was being planned, and brought senior trade union and political representations into play. For the time being, the ANU accepts the need to subsidise its 13 kilometres of business and trade union history, and accepts that it has a national preservation responsibility. But collectively we have learned that nothing is guaranteed. As a colleague told me recently, flush with her latest victory: 'Of course one cannot assume that the current order will remain; our new V-C starts next week and no doubt he will want to make his mark on the organisational structure'. The Quality of Staff One critical factor shaping the success of recordkeeping within the higher education sector is the calibre of its staff and senior managers. Here there are reasons for both gloom and optimism, and again the Aussie Rules' metaphor seems apt. Two features are particularly noteworthy The first is that we are in the middle of a generational change (All sporting teams ought to have a number of younger players being groomed for the senior roles). A cadre of older, long-serving archivists, many of whom founded university archives and records management units, or put them on the map, is passing. While a core of experienced
12 The Present State of Australian University Archives and Records successful archivists and records managers remains, worrying features of the recent ASA Universities Special Interest Group survey included: the high number of inexperienced new appointments; positions which had been left vacant for years; and positions weakened by extended periods of acting. In addition, comparatively low position classifications and weak career paths and pay scales have combined to limit the field of interest when vacancies are advertised. University archives no longer attract young talented staff, as they did when the likes of Glenda Acland, Margaret Jennings, Chris Buckley and Penny Fisher left Australian Archives to make their mark in university settings. This perhaps goes some way to explaining why university archivists and records managers are under-represented in professional involvements and the professional literature. The early ASA work of people such as Gerald Fischer and Michael Saclier should be acknowledged, as must Dr Ann Mitchell's labours on the code of ethics, Jenni Davidson on electronic records and Tim Robinson on privacy/ FOI. Surveying the literature, Glenda Acland is probably alone as a university archivist in having made a genuinely original contribution to the literature.24 Yet we face every kind of challenge being faced and addressed by government archivists, including administrative change and electronic records, and there should be ample scope to test - for example - functional analysis following Helen Samuels or the Minnesota method. Working in a scholarly environment should not be a barrier to appreciation of professional engagement. On the other hand, it must be recognised that it is tough for any archivist or records manager in small operations such as universities, missing the enriching professional collegiality of the larger institutions, facing constant funding pressures and demands to justify one's existence. Getting Organised If judged on its organisational machinery, our sector's end-of-season report card would show that we missed the finals. Since the mid-1980s there has been a Special Interest Group of the ASA, but a zero profile within the Records Management Association of Australia, and certainly no equivalent in the higher education sector of the peak councils for librarians (CAUL), museums and collections (CAUMAC), senior administrators (ATEM) and directors of IT (CAUDIT), all of which have clear roles and identities under the Vice-Chancellors framework (AVCC). On the other hand, some signs of joint action are evident this year, for example, in: • the discussion list started by Jenny Williams at University of Newcastle; • joint work on a common sector records schedule (Victoria);
13 Archifacts
• research infrastructure projects, such as that established by a group of university collecting archives to provide a gateway to trade union archives; and • state-based activity arising from a common legislative requirement (e.g. Queensland University Records Managers/FOI Officers/Privacy Officers to examine common problems at Griffith University). The initiatives, however, are unco-ordinated and already resulting in duplication. In Sydney recently, the ASA Universities Special Interest Group resolved to develop sector representative machinery. The biggest immediate challenge will be to ensure that the machinery covers all areas responsible for records, including those which are so typically not covered in devolved arrangements (e.g. student records, and FOI and privacy when not already covered by the Records Manager) and all the archival collections. Certainly there is no shortage of issues requiring attention. Public issues with records implications continue to surface, the most recent being an Ombudsman's inquiry into alleged preferential treatment of a student (the son of Kevin Gosper, member of the International Olympic Committee) and a corruption inquiry relating to the alteration of student records.25 Finally, our Education Minister has initiated a policy review, issuing six discussion papers under the tide 'Higher education at the crossroads', which not surprisingly make no mention of archives and records, but, more worryingly, reveal little understanding of the records implications of many of the options canvassed.26 Of similar concern is an emerging 'anti-red-tape' agenda. So, just as archivists and records managers have identified the re-engineering of administrative systems, FOI, privacy and compliance as opportunities to raise the profiles of records managers, one of the Crossroads discussion papers is asking 'Are the current levels of reporting and regulation appropriate and necessary?', and another To what extent can red-tape and compliance costs be reduced with a view to re-investing savings in education?'. Whether we are into 'injury time' or about to start a new game remains to be seen.
1 Fred Alexander, 'Some Thoughts on Archives and Records in Australian Universities; with Special Reference to the University of Western Australia', Archives and Manuscripts, vol.2, no.7, November 1964, pp.10-17. See also his Campus at Crawley, A Narrative and Critical Appreciation of the First Fifty Years at the University of Western Australia, Melbourne, 1963.
14 The Present State of Australian University Archives and Records
2 There are doubtless extensive New Zealand sources documenting this affair. Material available in Australia includes Michael Steemson, 'New Zealand National Archives' Status Goes Public - At Last!', Informaa Quarterly, vol.14, no.4, November 1998, pp. 6-9; also the conference paper and record of discussion which followed, Sue McKemmish and Glenda Acland, 'Archivists at Risk: Accountability and the Role of the Professional Society', in Archives at Risk: Accountability, Vulnerability and Credibility: Proceedings of the Australian Society of Archivists Conference Brisbane 29-31 July 1999. Australian Society of Archivists, Canberra, 2002. 3 Incidentally, the latter's writing includes what is still one of the best analyses of the challenges of collecting business archives. See 'The Acquisition of Business Records. A New Zealand Approach', Archives and Manuscripts,\ol.6, no.5, November 1975, pp. 177-184. 4 The New Zealand portion of the thesis/visit was written up as 'Schellenberg in New Zealand', Archifacts, October 1990, pp. 1-5. 5 Tom Wilsted, 'Scoring Archival Goals', in Andrew Lemon (ed), Archives Conference Proceedings 1977, Australian Society of Archivists, 1978, pp.19-24. 6 See Sue McKemmish and Michael Piggott (eds), The Records Continuum: Ian Maclean and Australian Archives First Fifty Years, Ancora Press, Melbourne, 1994. 7 Helen Samuels, Varsity Letters: Documenting Modern Colleges and Universities, Society of American Archivists and Scarecrow Press, 1992. 8 See for instance William de Maria, Deadly Disclosures: Whistleblowing and the Ethical Meltdown of Australia, Wakefield Press, 1999, chapt 6 'Academic dissenters; on being unfree in free spaces'. 9 Most lists exclude private institutions, including Bond University on the Gold Coast, Queensland, Notre Dame in Perth and a number of religious colleges. 10 See Simon Marginson and Mark Considine, The Enterprise University: Power, Governance and Reinvention in Australia, Cambridge University Press, 2000, chapt 7. 11 I am indebted to Don Boadle, Director of the Charles Sturt University Regional Archives, for directing attention to the vital but neglected records role of the Registrar. Australian sources include Christine Shervington, Listing of Registrar's Office Archives 1913-1980, University of Western Australia, 1981, pp. 145-149; and Clare White,'The Role and Function of the Registrar in Australian Higher Education Institutions', Journal of Tertiary Education Administration, vol.13, no.2, 1991, pp.165-187. 12 Typical was University of Technology Sydney which came into being in January 1990, combining the NSW Institute of Technology and Kuring-gai CAE and the Institute of Technical and Adult Education component of the Sydney College of Advanced Education (the remainder being attached to the University of Sydney along with its archivist Tim Robinson). One year later it appointed its first archivist (Sigrid McCausland). 13 Based largely on a survey the author conducted earlier this year for the ASA Universities Special Interest Group, and earlier published work by Nessy Allen, 'University Archives in Australia', Australian Academic and Research Libraries, vol.19, no.3, September 1988, pp. 173-179, as well as Don Boadle's various works including'Australian University Archives and Their Prospects', Australian Academic and Research Libraries, September 1999 etc, and 'Archives at the Edge? Australian University Archives and the Challenge of the New Information Age', in Place, Interface and Cyberspace: Archives at the Edge: Proceedings of the Australian Society of Archivists Conference, Fremantle 6-8 August 1998, Australian Society of Archivists, 1999, pp.73-82.
15 Archifacts
14 See Don Boadle, 'Origins and Development of the New South Wales Regional Repository System', A rebines and Manuscripts, vol.23, no.2, November 1995, pp.274- 288. 15 See George Deacon, An Investigation into Records Management Practices and Policies in the University of Melbourne (Research Report for Master of Business Administration, Final Year 1976, Graduate School of Business Administration). Deacon, who was Associate Registrar (Administration), recommended that in response to the new Public Records Act 1973 the University of Melbourne seek an amendment to exclude universities which ran their own RM programmes and that it establish its own records management programmes (which it subsequently did with the appointment in 1978 of Margaret Jennings). See the obituary article 'Margaret J. Jennings (1943-1993)', Archives and Manuscripts, vol.22, no.l, May 1994, pp.226-232. 16 Personal email communication from a Western Australian university archivist, 23 July 2002. 17 Personal email communication to author, 24 July 2002. 18 Personal email communication to author, 31 July 2002. 19 Tim Robinson, 'Experience in FOI and Tertiary Education', in Archives at Risk: Accountability Vulnerability and Credibility: Proceedings of the Australian Society of Archivists Conference Brisbane 29-31 July 1999- See http:// www.archivists.org.au/events/conf99/trobinson.html. Christine Babty, the University Archivist at the University of Western Australia, spoke in similar terms at the same conference. See 'The UWA Archives experience of economic rationalism' at http:// www.archivists.org.au/events/conf99/bapty.html. 20 See http://www.publicuni.org/ 21 Simon Marginson, 'Towards a Politics of the Enterprise University', in Simon Cooper et. al. (eds), Scholars and Entrepreneurs; the Universities in Crisis, Arena Publications Association, 2002, Table 4, p.121. 22 Stuart Macintyre, ' "Funny You Should Ask for That" ', ibid., p.82. For a now slightly dated but no less accurate assessment of history and economic history in universities, see Academy of the Social Sciences in Australia, Challenges for the Social Sciences and Australia, vol.1, Commonwealth of Australia, 1998, chapts 11 and 16. 23 Challenges, p. 133. 24 See 'Archivist: Keeper, Undertaker or Auditor', Archives and Manuscripts, vol.19, no.l, May 1991, pp.9-15. 25 See Victorian Ombudsman's An investigation into a complaint about preferential treatment of a student by the University of Melbourne, June 2002, available at http://www.ombudsman.vic.gov.au/; and NSW ICAC Investigation into the conduct of officers and students at University of Technology Sydney, August 2002, available at http://www.icac.nsw.gov.au/ 26 The background details and discussion papers are at www.detya.gov.au/crossroads.
16 Advantage andAdventition: The Case of the Hocken Library, University of Otago, Dune din
Stuart Strachan
Hocken Librarian University of Otago
It would be gratifying to claim that what might be called the •community archives' component of the Hocken Library collections was the result of some considered, far-sighted plan, long endorsed by its parent body, the University of Otago. It has not been. And it would be even more satisfying to be able to claim that the work of collecting community archives has been informed by formal theory of area documentation. Even less has that been the case. Yet the formation of this archive need not necessarily be regarded as unfortunate, or even improper as some theorists might have it. Indeed it is argued that its development has been almost wholly beneficial and that it is difficult to envisage what in the circumstances then prevailing would have been a practicable alternative. The history of this archive has in fact, as often elsewhere, largely been one of chance and circumstance - the adventition' of my title - leavened by the collecting exertions of its professional staff. Its development was also facilitated by the acceptance (and sometimes active support) of academic staff and by the general community that it was the right thing to do, implying both academic and societal advantages in the role undertaken. The product of an incremental pragmatism over several decades, the archive now totals approximately 6,500 linear metres and embraces a wide variety of social institutions. Taken with other subsequently established archives in the Otago region, the holdings rise to over 14,000 linear metres. For a region with a population of around 170,000 (112,000 of them in Dunedin), this must, with the special exception of Wellington, the capital, be the most intensively archived region of New Zealand.
* This paper was originally delivered at the Annual Conference of the Australian Society of Archivists, Manly, Sydney, 16 August 2003.
17 Archifacts
It is the intention of the present paper to trace briefly the history of the development of the community archive, to offer some explanations of its particular features and the issues raised, then to relate this experience, at least in some measure, to current thinking about area documentation, in particular Richard Cox's views on collecting institutions and informational values in archives.1 Before going further, it is necessary to say something about the community in southern New Zealand, below the 45° line of latitude and so well south of Tasmania, where the Hocken Library is located. Dunedin is the most southerly and smallest of the original main centres of New Zealand. It is the capital of one of the original provinces, Otago, established in 1853, and out of which the adjacent province of Southland, centred on Invercargill, was formed in 1861. Blessed with a bracing climate, 'the best working climate in New Zealand', Otago is the traditional home of the Kai Tahu tribe or iwi. From the late eighteenth century the iwi encountered sealers, whalers and traders with links to Sydney and later Hobart. The key event, following the purchase of huge tracts of land from the Kai Tahu, was the establishment in 1848 (on Wakefield principles) of a Scottish Free Church settlement on the site of Dunedin, at the head of Otago Harbour. After a period of slow growth based on subsistence agriculture and extensive pastoralism, the special character of the settlement and its prospects were radically transformed by the discovery of gold at Tuapeka in Central Otago in 1861. Over the next three years, the province's population more than quadrupled, from 12,700 to 57,500. For a period of 30 years, fuelled by the prosperity of gold and untroubled by the wars of the North Island, Dunedin became the pre-eminent financial, industrial, cultural, and educational centre of New Zealand.2 This was a critical period during which many national institutions were formed, much of that development taking place in Dunedin, the largest centre. Many of New Zealand's largest companies, even today, had their beginnings in Dunedin, while the University of Otago, the country's oldest, was founded there in 1869. Dunedin was also the location of the first teachers' training college, first medical school, first kindergarten, first freezing works, and first Boys' Brigade. It was from this city that frozen meat was first exported in 1882. It was the city in which the Plunket Society movement for the care of women and children began. With the ending of the wars in the North Island in the 1870s, the consequent opening up of the bush to dairying, and the shift of maritime trading routes northwards, Dunedin's dominance steadily eroded in the decades immediately preceding the First World War. Thereafter Wellington, and even more so Auckland, surged past. Ever
18 The Case of the Hocken Library since, Dunedin has grown much more slowly than centres further north. Its population is now barely 114,000, whilst that of Auckland exceeds 1,000,000. This demographic history has been of the greatest importance for archives in Dunedin and Otago.The boom times led tó their creation, followed by conditions conducive to their survival, certainly until very recently. For the disproportionately large number of national enterprises based in Dunedin, these included low levels of physical movement and restructuring. Commercial and government buildings, often constructed of permanent materials, tended to survive well with their contents intact. Further, the temperate climate was kind to paper - moderate temperatures and relative humidity, and practically no destructive insects. In short, Dunedin from the 1950s through to the early 1980s was a collecting archives paradise. Enter the Hocken Library. Thomas Morland Hocken (1836-1910), a Dunedin physician, was one of New Zealand's three great collectors of its literature (the other two being Sir George Grey of Auckland and Alexander Turnbull of Wellington).3 He was also its first major bibliographer and an early historian. As well as collecting books, pamphlets, newspapers, photographs, and paintings, Hocken assembled a choice collection of manuscripts relating to Maori, missionaries, and early European settlement. It was not particularly an Otago collection, relating to the whole of New Zealand; and it was largely made up of private papers. Nor was the collection large, occupying perhaps 20 linear metres of shelving. In 1907 Hocken donated his collections to the University of Otago, in trust for the people of New Zealand. The deed of trust made provision for growth, but there was precious little to support new additions. Therefore the collection was only modestly added to over the next forty years. Such archives activity as there was in New Zealand, and it was not much, was centred in Wellington - at the Dominion Archives, the General Assembly Library and the Alexander Turnbull Library. In the 1950s, however, in New Zealand, as in Australia, for reasons which cannot be gone into fully here but with roots in a culturally progressive Labour government (1935-1949), there was a resurgence of interest in the preservation of archives. The Archives Committee of the New Zealand Library Association was formed in 1951, the visit of Dr Schellenberg to Australia in 1954 did not go unnoticed and, after a long campaign, public archives legislation was passed for the first time in 1957. Most pertinently, EH. Rogers, an Englishman with extensive archives experience, took up in 1949 the position of University Librarian at the University of Otago.The Hocken Library with its specialist New Zealand collections became the instrument of his interest in collecting
19 Archifacts local authority archives as part of a national Archives Committee initiative, the preferred model being something along the lines of an English county record office. There was no local competition for this role in Otago, and Rogers had an influential collaborator in Michael Standish, then officer-in-charge of the Dominion Archives in Wellington. Standish organised the designation of the Hocken Library as an approved repository for national government records from Otago and Southland, chief amongst them the records of the Otago goldfields.The arrangement was formally confirmed under the 1957 Archives Act. When Rogers left Dunedin for the University of New England in 1956,4 his two successors as University Librarian, P. Havard Williams (1957-60) and WJ. McEldowney (1961-1985), remained sympathetic to the acquisition of archives. In the 1960s business archives began to be added to the range of public archives already held,5 these by this time also including the archives of the Otago Education Board (1963) and the Otago Hospital Board (1964). At about the same time the Hocken Library was given responsibility for the remarkably complete archives of the University of Otago. Unless the creating body was defunct, all archives received came on deposit, that is they were long-term loans with ownership remaining with the originating agency. All this was accomplished with minimal professional assistance. There was as yet no full-time archivist at the Hocken Library - though Michael Hitchings, Hocken Librarian (1965-1985), had had extensive manuscripts experience at the Alexander Turnbull Library. The work of transfer and management was carried out by the very small staff of the Library (which grew slowly from one in 1952 to seven in 1970). The archives received rudimentary appraisal only, being simply placed on shelves in more or less logical order, basic transfer lists being used for access. The system was not pretty, but it was effective, and many archives were saved that would otherwise have been lost. In 1972, the first year for which reliable statistics are available, the whole collection totalled about 930 metres. It was in 1970 that the Hocken Library's first archivist was appointed. Almost inevitably, with a dedicated position, the pace of acquisition increased, greater emphasis being placed on business and local community organisation archives. There was no particular plan or philosophy of area documentation. The emphasis instead was on targeting what seemed to be the most significant organisations, rescuing what appeared to be at risk, and accepting with discretion what was brought in voluntarily. To ensure some uniformity of approach, however, brochures outlining the value of particular categories of records, the advantages of preservation, and draft conditions of deposit were
20 The Case of the Hocken Library separately prepared for and widely circulated to businesses, trade unions, legal firms, incorporated societies and schools. However, the Library was well aware that it was beyond its capacity to receive all business records worthy of permanent preservation. It therefore adopted a policy of encouraging businesses to care for their own records where feasible.6 This proved to be just the beginning. Thirty years later the collection was to measure 7,600 linear metres embracing most categories of records, but essentially to the pattern set in the early 1970s. Why, it might well be asked, was the Library able, indeed allowed, to pursue this policy of relatively unfettered acquisition. There were several reasons: • The first, already alluded to, was the sympathetic support of the University Librarian of the time, who was prepared to defend the activity, and of the Hocken Librarian, who had a strong interest in archives and manuscripts. • Secondly, the Hocken Library was a well-established institution with a recognised profile that apparently included the collecting of archives as a proper part of its business. It was not a new idea that the Hocken should collect archives. What was new in the 1970s was the scale of collecting undertaken. • Despite its connection to the University, the Hocken Library, as a public trust, was viewed by the wider community as the proper place for the deposit of archives relating to the region, and one to which, for most of the period, there was no alternative. • Finally, collecting was seen to serve the interests of a significant part of the University's academic community, assuring a ready source of primary material for research by both staff and students. This assumed new importance with the introduction of the BA(Hons) programme in 1967, a final year dissertation being required, and of the MA by thesis only, particularly in the subjects of history, geography, English, Maori studies, anthropology and political studies. Similar demands later arose from subjects as diverse as physical education, design, nutrition, surveying and marketing. There was an identity of interest between the Library's collecting of archives and academic research priorities, including those contained in degree course prescriptions.7 In subsequent decades the programme of collecting was influenced by a number of other developments. • The further féminisation of historical studies and the developing preferences for social topics around issues of gender, class, race and social conditions - history from below which emphasised the
21 Archifacts
experience of the ordinary person - rather than for political and diplomatic topics which had been at the forefront through the 1960s. This had a marked effect on the kinds of primary sources, especially archives, called for by researchers and collected by the Library. Indeed, very often acquisitions were made on the initiative of researchers who uncovered material of value in the community. • Also influential were concurrent social and economic changes taking place in New Zealand society. It is generally well understood that archives can only be properly known in their institutional contexts, and that these in turn are subject to wider social, political and economic forces. In response to these forces, institutions are born, grow, and sometimes fail.Those effecting archives in Otago included: the passing of the Second World War generation; the move of women into full-time work; the further depopulation of rural New Zealand; the aggregation of small businesses into larger units; improved roading leading to faster distribution of goods and services; the growing concentration of economic activity in the north at the expense of the south. It is not difficult to appreciate the effect of such changes on community life. With fewer women able to devote themselves to community activities, and fewer people overall in rural areas, many organisations ceased to thrive and in time died - local branches of the Women's Division of Federated Farmers, Plunket Society branches, sporting clubs, churches, schools. Dairy factories, country stores, specialist shops and small factories also fell victim to the same broad forces. To these can be added the constant effects of generational cycling as particular types of organisation rose and fell - patriotic organisations, lodges, Returned Servicemen's Association branches, etc. The archives of many were lost, but in Otago a good number found safe haven in the Hocken Library and other local repositories.
« To these long-term changes must be added one more extraordinary - the revolution that followed the election of the fourth Labour Government in 1984. Against all expectations, including those of most members of the Labour Party, this administration instituted a far- reaching programme of governmental and market reform. Over six years the whole country was effectively restructured, this coinciding with a boom-and-bust business cycle, the bust coming in 1987. The effect on New Zealand institutions - government departments, local government, businesses and trade unions - was huge. Amalgamations, abolitions, transfers, corporatisations, privatisations, liquidations and bankruptcies became the order of the day. The effect on the nation's records was similarly momentous, immense quantities being displaced,
22 The Case of the Hocken Library
torn apart, deranged, conflated, abandoned, and even destroyed. A large number of orphaned Otago archives, unwanted or without an obvious parent, were forced towards the Hocken Library as the only substantial available repository. • Fortunately, in the early- and mid-1980s a number of new repositories began to emerge in the region. Until then the burden of preservation had largely fallen on the Hocken Library alone; it was the repository of first arid last resort. The newcomers provided significant relief, offering opportunity for informal collaboration to preserve the region's archives. The most important developments were: Late 1970s The re-emergence of the Otago Settlers Museum as a collecting archive, originally of papers of early settlers, but subsequently expanding to include modern social history material. 1983 The establishment of the Presbyterian Church Archives at Knox College with national responsibilities, but also with provision for the housing of the archives of the General Synod for Otago and Southland and dependent parishes. 1983/84 The establishment of the Dunedin City Council Archives. Its coverage was later expanded to include responsibility for a number of adjacent boroughs and counties following major local government reorganisation in 1989. 1987 The establishment of the North Otago Archives at Oamaru, both as an institutional archives for the Waitaki District Council and as a collecting archives for the North Otago district. 1988 The establishment of a formed archives at Lakes District Museum in Arrowtown, collecting material in the rapidly developing Queenstown area. 1993 The establishment of the Dunedin Office of the National Archives, later renamed Archives New Zealand, with responsibility for all central government archives south of the Waitaki River. 1970s/80s The increasing visibility of the Dunedin Diocese Catholic Archives. Nobody really knows when it was formed.
23 Archifacts
The emergence of alternative institutions led to some rationalisation of holdings away from the Hocken Library. By far the most significant was the transfer in 1993 of approximately 950 linear metres of government archives to the new Dunedin Office of Archives New Zealand, a further 630 linear metres being transferred indirectly via Archives New Zealand's Christchurch Office, they having been sent there the previous year for some immediate relief. A transfer of 413 metres of hospital records in 1997 completed the movement of material between the two repositories. Also important was the transfer to the Dunedin City Council Archives of some local authority records which fell within the ambit of the enlarged Dunedin City following the 1989 reorganisation. A limited amount of material was also sent to the North Otago Archives following its formation in 1987, while Presbyterian parish records passed to the parent body of that church. The relinquishing of government archives, necessary though it was, caused sorrow and anxiety at the Hocken. Not only was there was a strong sentimental attachment to holdings that in some cases had been part of the Library collections for over forty years, but there was also recognition that some of the records, particularly land and goldfields records, were amongst those most used in the Library. It was naturally feared that their loss would result in fewer readers. The drive to maintain the level of existing archives use depended, therefore, both on better presentation of existing holdings and, even more crucially, on acquiring a good range of other material to compensate for what had been lost. Two particular target groups were identified: internally, a greater span of university staff and students, and, externally, genealogists. To attract and meet the needs of the former, a wider range of archives of community organisations was sought and accepted. For the latter, two categories of archives were focused upon: primary school records, with the crucial registers of admission, progress and withdrawal; and Anglican, Methodist, Baptist, Church of Christ, Congregational and other church records, in fact all except those of the Catholic and Presbyterian Churches. All indications are that the plan worked. After a small initial drop, productions of archives were maintained and then increased. Over the last five years the history of the Hocken Library archives has, with the normal vicissitudes, generally been happy. In 1998 the Hocken Library moved into a custom converted dairy factory in Dunedin as the University of Otago's sesquicentennial project. Within these premises are workrooms for the archivists, with stack space for approximately 8,000 linear metres of archives, expandable by a least another 2,500 with the installation of mobile shelving. Even more significantly, the building can be added to, allowing another ten years
24 The Case of the Hocken Library of expansion. Major contributors towards the capital conversion costs were local trusts, presumably motivated by the preservation needs of the Library's holdings of community archives. Early in the present year (2002) the Library received a grant of $250,000 from the Lotteries Board's Environment and Heritage Committee, to be used over a period of two years for arrangement and description, and to enable entry into the Library's archives management system. The need to make readily available the Library's rich holdings of community archives was a major factor contributing to the application's success. With additional support from the University Library, the grants will allow the employment of 4.25 additional staff and should go a long way towards reducing the arrears of arrangement and description that have bedevilled the Library since the early 1970s. The willingness to allow the Library to be overwhelmed temporarily for thirty years by unprocessed collections will have been justified by the creation of a magnificent resource. What are the lessons of the Hocken Library experience, and how does it accord with recent thinking about area documentation strategies? The conclusions reached from the particular environment of the Hocken Library are these8: /. Collecting archives have a valuable and necessary place in the archives firmament. This is stating the obvious, but collecting archives have had something of a bad press amongst theorists, who have tended to focus their thinking further up the records line. For one thing, though not incompatible with continuum theory, collecting archives do not sit as readily within its strictures as institutional archives. It is easy to see why. Typically, a collecting archives is not in a position to involve itself internally within the organisations from which it collects, even if it were interested in doing so. The transfer of archives can therefore be regarded as a rupturing of the continuum. In the age of electronic records this is a genuine issue. Further, it is believed that the value placed by collecting archives on informational values be emphasised at the expense of higher-level evidential values, thereby degrading the primary records/archives function. Richard Cox, in his benchmark book Documenting Localities, postulates a three-stage development towards an archivally mature society: first, the individual collector; secondly, the collecting archives; and third, the institutional archives.9 There is no doubt, as Cox rightly asserts, that for large organisations the institutional archives, appropriately resourced and professionally staffed, is by far the most effective means of preserving archives for the benefit of the parent organisation itself, for the benefit of users, and for society at large. However, as has also been observed, archives
25 Archifacts
have to survive and function in the real world, and there are many situations in which institutional archives are neither possible nor appropriate. In such situations the collecting archives, appropriately resourced and staffed, is the only realistic option. Nowhere is this truer than in a small region with modest resources, such as Otago. In Otago the scope for the development of institutional archives is limited. There are in fact just three in Dunedin: the local branch of Archives New Zealand, responsible for government records; the Dunedin City Council archives; and the archives of the Presbyterian Church, also with national responsibilities. Other organisations lack the resources, or are simply too small, to justify the establishment of an in-house archives. Yet other organisations again are not interested and never will be. Finally, in a region of relative decline there are inevitably many organisations which have ceased to exist administratively. Who else, other than a collecting archives such as the Hocken Library, is to take care of these archives that would otherwise be lost? It may be observed that Richard Cox's model is far too simplistic when applied to Otago, certainly as shown by the example of the Hocken Library, which sits halfway between stages two and three, being neither a purely collecting archive nor an institutional one. In relation to the archives of the University of Otago the Hocken functions largely as an institutional archives, with regular and orderly transfers of records from the University's administration. By formal arrangement it also acts as the official repository for the archives of the Otago Regional Council and its predecessor bodies, similarly for those of the Anglican Diocese of Dunedin, including all parishes.10 There are also deposit agreements with a wide range of organisations, ownership of the archives remaining with the depositing bodies. Indeed, this is the norm for some categories, such as businesses. Obviously there are disadvantages in such arrangements. But the Otago experience has also demonstrated substantial advantages. Amongst them are the retention of a continued interest in and responsibility for its archives by depositing bodies, and the moving of important archives into a safe haven before they become seriously at risk through liquidation, bankruptcy, merger, change of ownership, winding up, or any of the other many hazards that face archives outside formal arrangements for their care.11 2. Preserving for informational values is not dangerous to evidential values and has larger societal benefits. This issue has not, in my experience, been as vexatious as some have feared. Institutional
26 The Case of the Hocken Library archives are assumed to give priority to evidential values for the purposes of their organisation, whilst collecting archives, with external funding, are expected to secure larger societal purposes and to give priority to the needs of users. In practice, however, the choices facing archivists have not been stark. It is usually written into the archives legislation governing the preservation of central and local government archives that larger social and historical needs should be served in addition to those of the originating administrations. This inevitably requires that, whatever the system of appraisal employed - macro, functional, top down or simply ad hoc - notice has to be taken of informational values.12 In fact, the experience of the Hocken Library has been that, when appraising for permanent preservation, any tension between the kinds of values has been more apparent than real. An organisation's evidence is so very often another person's information. The overlap between the two is always great. Of course, it is always possible to think of instances where records with apparently evidential values provide poor or even erroneous information,13 and of records which clearly have high informational value but are low evidentially.14 Cox has been somewhat dismissive of informational values, for two reasons. In his view they are inherently subjective, therefore difficult to model, and so not amenable to appraisal theory. This risks uneven and irrational selection, which can be difficult to defend. Associated is a fear that preservation for informational value opens the door to large scale, indiscriminate preservation on the grounds that a case can be made for keeping anything: Those who adhere to art or subjectivity open up the archival profession to chaotic selection'.15 This is a risk that has to be acknowledged, but in practice, apart from the occasional aberration, it does not happen.The archives kept in the Hocken library are generally very much the same, with some license, as those that would be kept had they been preserved in an institutional archives. Archivists in collecting institutions live in the real world just as much as other archivists, and they seldom have the space to preserve all archives that might conceivably be preserved for informational value alone. Appraising archivists, whether in a collecting or institutional archives, will tend to select for preservation the same archives, albeit with some differences of emphasis. Besides, any locality documentation strategy is inextricably bound up with serving the needs of society at large and those of the popular and scholarly research communities in particular. For better or worse, informational values have to figure prominently if the strategy is to realise its goals.16
27 Archifacts
3- Co-operation, formal or informal, is essential to success. In the case of Otago, co-operation grew gradually, almost unconsciously. Even today there is no formal arrangement, let alone anything that could be called an overarching strategy. In the beginning the Hocken Library stood virtually alone as a substantial preserver of archives, but by the early 1970s it had become clear that, much as it might have desired it, the Library would never have the resources to be a total archive for the region. The Library's 1972 annual report observed: 'the effect of all this (collecting) activity is that the Library has ceased to be simply a Library, but has become in effect a regional record office. This raises new problems, which are going to require solutions outside the usual experience of New Zealand libraries.' In 1975, as a solution to the difficulties, the Archivist of the Hocken Library proposed a comprehensive plan for the care of regional archives in New Zealand. This recommended the establishment of 18 regional records offices, jointly funded by central and local government and by the universities, which would be responsible for the preservation of all archives in the regions (including Otago).17 While the plan was endorsed by Dr Wilfred Smith, Dominion Archivist of Canada, in his report on archives in New Zealand,18 it was far too ambitious and never developed. In Otago it was superseded by subsequent developments, notably the establishment of the Dunedin City Council Archives in 1983 and the Dunedin office of Archives New Zealand in 1993. Not until after the latter event did the Library (in 1994) set out for the first time its collection development policy for archives and manuscripts. Allowing for the new repositories, it stipulated what the Library was already collecting and would collect, casting a wide net.What the institutional archives and other collecting archives in the region did not receive under their own mandates, the Hocken Library was prepared to consider for its own collections. This, in principle, ensured that the Otago region was covered. The policy also provided for donor/depositor preference, attempting to deal with the problem of collections split between repositories. It is not a perfect world, but the arrangements implied in this policy at least ensured that in theory every Otago archive had a potential haven as a last resort. The long-standing processing backlogs at the Hocken Library, dating back to the 1970s, were the subject of an outside report in 2000.19 This starkly pointed up the difficulties arising out of such a liberal collecting policy. It proposed a tighter, prioritised policy of collection acquisition that could be linked to priorities of arrangement and description, also calling for a regional archives
28 The Case of the Hocken Library
conference to discuss formal cooperative arrangements. The problem remains, however, that if the Hocken Library is to shuck off any of its collecting responsibilities to substantial degree, where should the records go? Co-operate we must; abandon we should not. 4. It is not possible to collect everything. The documentary universe of even a small region is very large indeed, almost unimaginably so. The portion of it that can be termed archival documentation is much smaller, and even more so is the storage capacity of a region's repositories, as has been graphically shown by Richard Cox.20 Otago, though perhaps generously endowed in comparison with some other New Zealand regions, is in essence no different. Institutional archives are in a reasonable position to preserve most that ought to be retained from within their own organisations. But outside those organisations the field is virtually limitless, and the issues of selection become complex, involving choosing not just which archives internal to an organisation should be retained, but also selecting the organisations themselves, a kind of macro-appraisal. For some types of community organisation, there has been an effort to obtain the archives in their entirety, notably schools and churches (other than, of course, for the Catholic and Presbyterian churches, which have their own arrangements). In other instances, there has been an attempt to obtain the archives of organisations at regional level, for example those of the Otago Rugby Football Union, Girl Guides or the Women's Division of Federated Farmers, rather than those of all the local branches. This is a kind of top down appraisal. But what about the records of individual football clubs, Girl Guide companies, and Women's Division branches? It is clearly beyond the capacity of any collecting archives to acquire and preserve archives at this level across more than a very limited range of activities. The obvious answer of representative samples brings its own difficulties. How does one select a sample in such a way that it satisfies scholarly criteria? And such sampling is infuriating to local historians who tend to demand that the archives of all significant organisations in a small locality be retained. Without greatly augmented resources, resources which are never likely to be granted, there is no easy answer. Perhaps the deposit of such local archives in small museums, often staffed by untrained volunteers, should be encouraged. Maybe it is necessary to resign oneself to their loss over time.
5. A collecting archives must serve the needs of its own institution. The archives at the Hocken Library have been extremely fortunate in the support received from within the University of Otago over
29 Archifacts
many years. As earlier indicated, there have been some special factors operating, not all readily replicable elsewhere. Sympathetic University Librarians, and the protective shelter of the Hocken Library, have allowed the archives to flourish to maturity. Yet, on its own, such support is not enough. It is important to ensure that the University sees that it is getting value from the archives so that continued support is assured. This has been achieved in several ways. The first, already referred to, is that it should readily provide research material to a wide range of students and academic staff. The classic danger for a university collecting archive is narrow specialisation based on the interests of a few academic staff. Typically, once the interested staff have departed, or the research interest supported by the archives has become unfashionable, use drops away markedly and questions arise about continuing support. To maintain support, to future-proof it against changes in research interest, the Hocken Library has consciously collected widely. For instance, the archives of sporting organisations are of interest to physical education students, those of retail pharmacies to pharmacy students, of surveyors to surveying students, a survey of school lunches in the 1920s for nutrition students, hotel records to tourism students, as well as, as might be expected, to history students. In addition, it has been deliberate policy to encourage public use of the archives, this being seen as benefiting the University also. Not only does such exposure engender general public support for the University, it also brings school students engaged on history projects into early contact with the University, so enabling the University in its formal statements to claim the Hocken Library and its archives service as a major component of its Community Service output, as well as contributing to Teaching and Research. 6. Are there optimum external conditions for forming an area documentation strategy? It could be argued that the conditions in Dunedin and Otago are especially favourable for the development of such a strategy. Dunedin itself has proved large enough to support a range of archives repositories that could form part of a strategy. Indeed, with twelve archivists in six institutions, Dunedin for its size is generously endowed. Also crucial has been the presence of the University which, in the Hocken Library, has not only provided one of the major collecitng institutions, but also many of the users. Crucially, it has been a source of informed support. The city and the region are also sufficiently large and varied to have supported a good range of social institutions over a long period of time, many with archives worthy of permanent preservation. Conversely, the city
30 The Case of the Hocken Library
is not so large, as for example Auckland or Sydney, that the task of documentation is overwhelming. If the Dunedin example is anything to go by, the optimum environment is a city of about 150,000, which is well-established, slow-growing, and has a university. What has been lacking so far in Dunedin is a formal planned co-operative approach to archives maintenance. Surely the time is now ripe for one to be developed, building on the very rich archives resource that has already been accumulated.
1 Richard J. Cox, Documenting Localities: a practical model for American archivists and manuscript curators, Lanham, Md, Scarecrow Press, 1996. 2 The standard modern history is Erik Olssen, A History of Otago, Dunedin, John Mclndoe, 1984. 3 The story of these three is told in E.H. McCormick, The Fascinating Folly: Dr Hocken and his fellow collectors, Dunedin, University of Otago Press, 1961. 4 Where he was to form another university-based regional archives. 5 The driving force was a business historian, M. Hudson of the University's Economics Department. He later moved to the University of Sydney, where he continued to pursue his interest in business archives and history. 6 The Library's Annual Report for 1970 stated that 'An important side of the Curator's work this year has been the visiting in person of city firms to examine and advise upon their records. The Library cannot possibly take in all business archives worth preserving, and so must if possible persuade businesses to care for these themselves . . .' (p.3). 7 In 1968 it was reported in the New Zealand Journal of History that at the University of Otago seven history theses had been completed and six were in progress. By 2000 the equivalent figures were 22 and 28. 8 See Janine Delaney, Redefining the Role for Collecting Archives in an Electronic Paradigm', Archifacts, April 2000, pp. 13-24. 9 Cox, Documenting Localities, p.vii. 10 It is worth noting that the Library is authorised by the Diocese to issue duplicate certificates of baptism based on deposited parish archives. 11 A case for deposit rather than ownership is contained in Stuart Strachan, 'The Acquisition of Business Records: a New Zealand Approach', Archives and Manuscripts, November 1975, pp.181-182. 12 On this issue see Paul Macpherson,'Theory, Standards and Implicit Assumptions: Public Access to Post-current Government Records', Archives and Manuscripts, May 2002, pp.6-17. 13 The fictitious court cases of seventeenth century England, which were not disputes at all but simply a means of establishing a title to property; and closer to home in New Zealand the records of the Land Sales Court after the Second World War, which did not take account of under the counter payments. 14 For instance, a series of nineteenth century vouchers preserved purely for their typographical design. 15 Cox, Documenting Localities, p. 150. 16 Cox again has a rather different take: "The objective of appraisal is to document society and its institutions and organisations. It is not to collect materials for
31 Archifacts
historians or other researchers, but it is to identify and preserve the transactional records that best document a specific activity or function, organisation and the like. It is first for the record creators and then to benefit others.' Ibid. 17 S.R. Strachan,'Local Archives in New Zealand'. Reprinted in Archifacts 1983/2, June 1982, pp.4-21. 18 Wilfred I. Smith, Archives in New Zealand, Wellington, Archives and Records Association of New Zealand, 1978. 19 Dagmar Parer, 'Hocken Library Archives & Manuscripts. A Place of First and Last Report.' Ε Knowledge Structures, 8 August 2000. 20 Cox, Documenting Localities, p.83.
Otago Holdings of Archives by Institution
Date Total Otago % of Institution established Staff metres only total Otago Settlers Museum Archives 1900 1 320 320 2 Hocken Library 1910 3.5 7,700 6,500 46 Dunedin Public Library 1913 0 70 70 0.5 - McNab Collection
Presbyterian Church Archives 1983 1.5 808 284 2 Dunedin City Council Archives 1983 1 1,200 1,200 9 North Otago Archives 1987 1 850 850 6 Lakes District Museum Archives 1989 1 140 140 1 Archives New Zealand 1993 4 5,500 4,675 33 Catholic Church Diocesan Archives n/a 1 40 40 0.5
Total 14 16,628 14,079 100
32 The Case of the Hocken Library
Distribution of Categories of Archives by Repository
Categories of Archives Pre-1985 1985 on HL OSM DPL HL OSM DPL NADO DCCA PCA CCA ΝΟΑ LDM
Private / Family *" " ......
Members of Parliament Dunedin Electorates "* *** Other Electorates
Government Goldfields Courts Lands Companies Railways Police Mines Works Other
Territorial Local Government Dunedin City Adjacent Councils North Otago Central Otago · " South Otago
Regional Government Regional Council "* Catchment Board Rabbit Boards Harbour Board
Education University of Otago Student Bodies Academic Papers College of Education Education Board Secondary Schools Primary Schools Kindergartens Playcentres
33 Archifacts
Distribution of Categories of Archives by Repository
Categories of Archives Pre-1985 7985 on HL OSM DPL HL OSM DPL NADO DCCA PCÀ CCA NOA LDM
Health Hospital Boards Dunedin Hospitals Psychiatric Hospitals Other Hospitals Plunket Societies Health Associations Doctors Papers
Churches Presbyterian Anglican Catholic Methodist Baptist Other
Businesses Financial Manufacturing Distribution/Retail Transport Legal Farming/Pastoral Trade Unions/ Employer organisations
Community Lodges Patriotic/RSA Sporting Hobby Groups Service Clubs
Youth Organisations = minimal level Women's Organisations = moderate level = significant level Cufturai Literary Papers Artists Papers Music Groups Other
34 Archival Theory and Electronic Records: A Case for Pragmatism?
Kat Turner
Assistant Libarían Science Library University of Otago
In an organisational setting, records provide accountability and continuity for business processes such as planning and decision-making. Archives use established theories and techniques to preserve such recorded evidence of individual, societal, and organisational activity over time and space in an authentic, reliable, and accessible fashion.To adapt successfully to rapidly changing technological and administrative environments, and the subsequent proliferation of e-records, archival and records management principles must be reinterpreted and redefined. Nevertheless, American archivist Linda J. Henry has recently argued that historical archival models relating to the life cycle - appraisal, arrangement and description, custody, access, and preservation - of records can be applied to the electronic environment with only minor adaptation; a new paradigm is at best unnecessary, and at worst, unhelpful.1 The following discussion will endeavour to show that a unified and proactive response by archivists and records managers will enable the challenges of the electronic age to be met through the pragmatic modification of traditional archival models. A record's life cycle traditionally comprises four distinct phases: creation and distribution; maintenance and use; disposition; and archival. This model artificially demarcates the work of records managers and archivists, introducing archival processes only at the fourth end-phase of a record's life cycle when it is historical and no longer current. The volatility and abundance of e-records, and increasing emphasis on preserving their evidential nature, have forced the development of a less linear 'Records Continuum Model', comprising the dimensions of records creation, capture, organisation, and pluralisation.2 The Continuum Model enables the identification and capture of records of archival value from the date of their creation. This contrasts with the Life Cycle, which, using Schellenberg's criteria of currency -
35 Archifacts the deliberate act of selection or transfer - dysfurictionally distinguishes records and archives.3 Records still in everyday use in their creating agency can be defined and treated as archives because of their continuing value.4 Thus, the Continuum Model ensures that recordkeeping regimes manage e-records from their creation in ways that enable them to fulfill multiple purposes for the archives and records management professions. Accordingly, there is much less emphasis on custodial boundaries.5 If archival methods are to be effectively applied throughout the life of a record, archivists must proactively intervene in the recordkeeping process over the e-records' entire life cycle from conception to maintenance.6 They must perform appraisals at the front end or records creation phase of the continuum, thereby shedding their traditional mantle of passive custodians of'documentary residue', and become 'active shapers of the archival heritage'.7 The Records Continuum Model encourages an awareness of the dynamic relationships between records and their organisational contexts of creation and use. Because it shifts focus from the product or output (the actual record) to the functional processes and contexts that led to the record's creation, it is a process-oriented model.8 Such an understanding of the processes and functions that generated the records is also essential for the appraisal of e-records. Traditional appraisal criteria can be applied to e-records based on an assessment of their informational content.9 However, new 'macro-appraisal' strategies that redefine the traditional archival concepts of provenance and original order have recently been promulgated as appropriate to the standardised identification of those e-records of continuing value. This functional approach correlates specific core organisational activities with the records series that are generated as by-products of these processes.10 As with the Records Continuum model, it focuses more on the primary and evidential nature of records than on their content or informational value; the process and context of records creation takes precedence over a product-oriented focus.11 The central question being 'What should be documented?', rather than 'What documentation should be kept?', archivists assume the role of proactive strategists concerned with creational context and creators' requirements rather than reactive, passive weather vanes' driven by the needs of future users and whatever records happen to turn up.'2 The accuracy, authenticity and integrity of records can only be understood in relation to the context in which the records originated. This explains the importance of the traditional archival principles of provenance and original order. However, e-records series are easily shared and may feasibly have multiple simultaneous creators, particularly
36 Archival Theory and Electronic Records in large organisations comprising fluid and numerous departmental structures. In these situations, the principle of provenance in its traditional sense is difficult to apply.13 In response to this challenge, Australian archivist Peter Scott modified arrangement and description techniques to enable multifarious intellectual expressions of provenance as opposed to the static, discrete annotations traditionally applied to paper-based records. The resultant CRS system (Commonwealth Record Series) assigns each record creating agency and each record series with a unique identifier and individual description. This enables complex and conceptual (as opposed to physical) cross-referencing, thereby facilitating the intellectual description and reconstruction of the virtual and dynamic relationships amongst records themselves (recordkeeping system relationships), and between records and their changing contexts of creation and use (provenance).14 Provenance must be reconceptualised as connecting an e-record to the business processes and recordkeeping systems that caused that record to be created, rather than construed as connecting a record to the creating office or agent and the infrastructure of that agent.15 The purposes and activities for which the records were originally created should be documented to safeguard their evidentiary nature.16 The University of Pittsburgh research project has formulated a framework of 'Functional Requirements for Recordkeeping' that satisfies legal and administrative organisational needs, and can be used in the design and implementation of electronic information systems. The model enables organisations to identify, generate, capture, maintain, preserve and provide access to electronic and paper records, simultaneously retaining their content, context and structure according to metadata specifications, thereby ensuring they fulfill functional requirements for authentic and reliable evidence.17 Records managers and archivists must work together to ensure that metadata is captured and maintained while e-records are still current (preferably at the design stage of the recordkeeping system), and that it is successfully carried across system upgrades and data migrations. Metadata that describe data applications and programmes are necessary for e-records management purposes, but archivists require descriptive metadata to provide contextual information.18 The electronic description ideal is the 'metadata encapsulated object' in which all contextual information necessary for the full comprehension of an e-record and its evidentiality is incorporated into the record and inextricably linked to it from the time of its creation. E-records are virtual and constantly evolving, and a multipurpose descriptive continuum accompanying them
37 Archifacts from their time of creation is needed to provide contextual and structural information necessary to their subsequent understanding. A closer link between archives and recordkeeping, as implied by the continuum model, facilitates this single documentation continuum and fulfils the needs of the archivist and future users as well as the requirements of the records manager and records creator. Metadata, as a mechanism of value-added intellectual control, preserves the link between the external dimension (provenance) and the internal dimension (original order) of an e-records series.19 The archival principle of original order decrees that wherever possible records should be arranged within their series according to the order in which they were originally created and kept while in active use. In an electronic environment, such relationships are dynamic and virtual, and e-records should ideally be retained using the original automated system that created and can therefore support these internal relationships.20 Technologies such as hypertext linking or Object Linking and Embedding (OLE) result in e-records that are composites of data elements brought together according to specific software controls. Electronic data may be united in multiple ways, creating new conceptual or virtual series for various business transactions and functions. Consequently, original order can no longer be understood as a physical place for each record within a discrete record series. In promoting a reconceptualisation of the records series as an intellectual rather than physical entity, Scott concluded that the documentation and description of an e-record's original context, and its physical arrangement, should be separate processes.21 Similarly, McKemmish advocates the liberation of the record series from its traditional perception as a physical grouping of records. Archives, she argues, should discard their physical custodial role and use archival metadata to create knowledge representations' that ensure the preservation of and access to e-records of continuing value in their original contexts of creation and use.22 McKemmish's justification of a post-custodial approach for archival storage and accessibility necessitates revisiting the role of the archivist in the electronic era. Sir Hilary Jenkinson stated that archivists must preserve the physical and moral integrity of their holdings.23 Custodialists argue that archives should be retained in the custody of an archives with intellectual control being provided by standardised descriptive instruments. This approach also protects records against unauthorised, deliberate or inadvertent tampering. E-records must be inviolate, though the capacity for redaction should be available, and altered data must be detectable. On the other hand, proponents of the
38 Archival Theory and Electronic Records post-custodialist approach argue archives that are contextually arranged and described (with their reliability and authenticity thus assured), are morally defended, enabling physical custody to be devolved to the creating agencies.24 The records-creating agent, it is argued, has a more direct and ongoing interest than an archives repository in ensuring current and archival e-records are migrated to new organisational systems as required.25 This is a costly process, but one that is vital to the continuing accessibility of e-records across varying electronic platforms, and to their preservation across time. The storage media for e-records is non-archival and unstable, with rapid developments in hardware and software necessitating data migrations, often long before the physical storage medium deteriorates.26 The integral components that authenticate a record have not changed in the electronic era. Consequently preservation techniques must safeguard the accessibility of e-records, ensuring they can continue to provide accountability and evidentiality and enable the execution of business functions and informed decision-making.27 As Bearman has stated, 'preservation of the medium has been the traditional focus, but in electronic records management, preservation of usable access to information will not be assured by media preservation alone'.28 The content, context, and structure of an e-record may be altered during the migration process, thereby threatening the continued authenticity of e-records and the preservation of their intellectual entirety.29 Multiple software systems of varying sizes and form make it difficult for a user to access e-records without losing such vital evidence of context, content and structure. Bearman warns that 'data interchange standards and the preservation of software functionality should gain more emphasis than the physical formats of electronic records'.30 Such access concerns invite reflection on the nature of archives reference in the electronic era. The Public Records Office of Victoria recommends records retrieval systems that provide a web interface, enabling remote, off-site access.31 Archivists can thus supply mediated access via Internet gateways to organisational and archivally significant resources during the active and semi-active life of the e-record.32 Furthermore, automated systems facilitate more intellectual access points and linkages between data elements, resulting in dynamic integrated inventories in which bibliographic information (regarding the records themselves) is connected to contextual information (describing the records creator and creation process).33 Online networks also provide the functionality for quicker and more effective search manipulation and retrieval by the researcher. If the descriptions and finding aids are suitably comprehensive, users may not require the services of an
39 Archifacts archivist as an intermediary to physically retrieve the archives or interpret the data. Though, as Malbin notes, the use of new technological formats and programmes 'will require some 'translation' for users . . . personalised interpretation [by the archivist] will continue to be required' .M The challenges arising from the advent of e-records are numerous, and demand that archivists and records managers interrelate in ways that reflect modifications in theory and operational practice. The interests of the archival and records management professions indubitably overlap; their unifying purpose is to ensure e-records are created and managed in such a way as to preserve their evidentiary nature and make them accessible across time and space.35 As previously noted, the Continuum Model breaks down the traditional Life Cycle Model barriers between the professions, enabling records of archival value to be recognised and treated as such from the moment of their creation. While archivists should be wary of unduly affecting the process of records creation by imposing requirements that obstruct the use of the e-records while they are current, archivists and records managers should be involved in the construction, specification and continuing management of electronic recordkeeping systems. The AS 4390 standard developed in Australia prescribes an explication of the record-creating organisation, its business functions and transactions, and appropriate recordkeeping tactics for its evidential requirements. Such an analysis is used as the framework for the generation, implementation, and design specifications for that organisation's recordkeeping systems.36 It requires the archivist to work in close consultation with the records manager when recordkeeping systems are being designed, and to define the activities and transactions that relate to business core functions. The records generated by these activities can then have disposal decisions applied.37 Software mechanisms controlled by disposition metadata can be developed to automate the capture, retention and retrieval of those e-records that document core, mission- or mandate-driven functions essential to legal and accountability requirements.38 Archivists and records managers must be adept at communicating systems requirements to the information technology professionals and systems managers who design the recordkeeping product.39 In the current PC-based end-user-computing environment, records managers and archivists must work together to ensure organisational personnel realise when they have created or disposed of an e-record. As Bearman has noted, 'records do not survive unless agency staff can identify them, recognise their importance as evidence, and have tools
40 Archival Theory and Electronic Records to assure their continued accessibility'.''0 Staff should be trained to ensure metadata, which explain an e-record's content, structure, and context of creation, and support its effective retrieval, are captured. Authority control is equally important - file-naming conventions must be standardised and multidimensional connections between creating agencies, and their changes in name and function, must be elucidated. In this way, the integrity, reliability and authenticity of e-records of continuing value are retained and preserved across time. Furthermore, archivists and records managers must co-operatively ensure external and internal regulatory and legislative requirements for e-record retention are met through the application of appropriate technical standards.41 Policies and procedures should be formulated and implemented, with operational guidance and training support being supplied to records-creators in the practical domain. Before it will win acceptance and be consistently implemented, creating agency staff (information technology, records management and general personnel) must be convinced that a records management policy offers achievable solutions to information management problems and safeguards the organisation against evidentiality and accountability concerns.42 The challenges posed to traditional archival theories, policies, and conventions by the advent of e-records are significant. However, any new regime has much to learn and adopt from the old, and a change in operational perspective, rather than radical transformations of theory, is most appropriate. As Terry Cook has advised, 'a post-custodial paradigm . . . does not mean abandoning archival principles . . . but rather reconceiving traditional Jenkinsonian guardianship of evidence from a physical to a conceptual framework, from a product-focused to a process-oriented activity'.43
1 Linda J. Henry, 'Schellenberg in Cyberspace', American Archivist, vol.61, no.2, Fall 1998, p.315. The present exploration focuses on business environments, and electronic records (henceforth referred to as e-records) as they exist in organisational contexts. Remedies and tactics for collecting repositories, whose archival content typically arises from personal and non-profit societal productions and has more informational than evidential value and interest, are rarely discussed in the literature. Janine Delaney provides one noteworthy exception in Redefining the Role for Collecting Archives in an Electronic Paradigm', Archifacts, April 2000, pp.13-24. 2 Sue McKemmish, Yesterday,Today and Tomorrow: A Continuum of Responsibility', 1997. URL: http://www.sims.monash.edu.au/rcrg/publications/recordscontinuum/ smckp2.html. 3 Ibid. 'Schellenberg asserted that records had primary and secondary values. Primary value reflected the importance of records to their original creator; secondary value
41 Archifacts
their use to subsequent researchers'. Schellenberg subdivided secondary values into evidential and informational. "The Schellenbergian distinction between "records" and "archives" distracts from their common, unifying purpose as "archival documents" at any point in their life along the records continuum'.Terry Cook;'What is Past is Prologue: A History of Archival Ideas Since 1898 and the Future Paradigm Shift', Archivaría, vol.43, Spring 1997, p.27. 4 'Traditional appraisal tends to occur once, based on determination of permanent value, while electronic records management requires focus on continuing value because risk factors (associated with evidentiality and accountability) change with each system migration'. David Bearman, Electronic Evidence: Strategies for Managing Records in Contemporary Organisations, Pittsburgh, Archives and Museum Informatics, 1994, p.29. 5 McKemmish, op. cit., 1997. 6 John McDonald,'Archives and Current Records:Towards a Set of Guiding Principles', Janus, no.l, 1999, pp. 108-115. 7 Cook, op. cit., 1997, p.46. See also Terry Cook, 'Electronic Records, Paper Minds: The Revolution in Information Management and Archives in the Post-custodial and Post-modernist Era', in Archives and Manuscripts, vol.22, no.2, November 1994, p.313. Disposal decisions for e-records should ideally be made at the earliest practicable stage of an electronic system's development; Edward Higgs, 'The Role of Tomorrow's Electronic Archives', in Edward Higgs (ed), History and Electronic Artifacts, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1998, p. 185. Likewise, the Victorian Electronic Records Strategy (VERS) Project determined that records capture was best done at the time of the records' creation to ensure the record was more reliable as evidence. It also concluded that a record is more likely to be captured if done immediately, and capture at the time of the transaction is cheaper and more reliable than post hoc data entry. Victorian Electronic Records Strategy, Victorian Electronic Records Strategy Final Report, March 1999. URL: http://www.prov.vic gov.au/vers/final.htm. 8 Cook, op. cit., 1997, p.45. 9 Archives New Zealand, for example, has issued general disposal schedules for electronic office records based on definitions of records as corporate or non- corporate. Government employees are authorised to delete email messages that are either non-corporate, or routine and clearly of an ephemeral nature. Agencies are required to keep formal communications between officers (such as minutes and submissions); messages regarding the expenditure of money or resources; messages notifying changes of policy or the establishment of precedents; and messages commenting on significant documents or proposed actions. Archives New Zealand, Electronic Records Policy, URL: http://www.archives.govt.n2/statutory_regulatory/ er_policy/in troduction_frame.html. 10 'It is the evidence of a certain transaction which is appraised rather than the records, and hence appraisal can and does take place without records having yet been created'. Bearman, op.cit., 1994, p.28. 11 Brian P. N. Beaven,'Macro-Appraisal: From Theory to Practice', Archivarla, vol.48, Fall 1999, p. 157. 12 Intrinsic to the macro-appraisal is the macro-myth of inferred value, whereby a direct correlation between the importance of a function and the value of the resulting records is assumed to exist. This correlation is not always present and a serious methodological gap between the appraisal of functions and the selection of archival records can occur; Beaven, p.163. Henry likewise warns (p.317) that the function of records should not be the only important appraisal criterion; the informational content of records must also be considered.
42 Archival Theory and Electronic Records
13 Cook, op. cit., 1994, p.310; Cook, op. cit., 1997, p.48. 14 Sue McKemmish, Are Records Ever Actual?', in Sue McKemmish and Michael Piggott (eds), The Records Continuum: lan Maclean and Australian Archives First Fifty Years, Clayton, Victoria, Ancora Press in association with Australian Archives, 1994, pp.187, 193. Terry Cook, The Concept of the Archival Fonds in the Post-Custodial Era.Theory, Problems and Solutions', Archivaría, vol.35, Spring 1993, pp.32-3. Cook, op. cit., 1994, p.307. Missing is the ambient layer which provides another access point and data element by capturing the jurisdictional, organisational, and functional context (supplied by metadata). McKemmish, op.cit.,1994, p.196. 15 Cook, op. cit., 1997, pp. 47-8. Bearman, op. cit., pp.43-44. 16 Bearman, op. cit., p. 148. 17 Content refers to data that form the substance of the communicated message; 'Context' should be understood as 'the nexus of activity out of which it [the record] arose and in which it was used and about how it appeared and behaved in that setting' (Bearman, op. cit., p. 148) as well as indicating the interrelationships between the records. Structure denotes the physical or intellectual relationships between the data-content 'as employed by the record creator to convey meaning', Bearman, op. cit. p. 148. Production rules for systems development are outlined in the University of Pittsburgh, School of Information Sciences, Functional Requirements for Evidence in Recordkeeping. URL: http://www.lis.pitt.edu/~nhprc/. 18 Bearman, op. cit., p.168. Archival metadata would typically include documentation about the agency/department that created the record series; the functions and processes documented by the record series; details about the recordkeeping system in which it is kept, and relationships to other similar systems; and any laws, policies, procedures affecting the records. 19 Bearman, op. cit., p.28. 20 Chris Hurley, 'Personal Papers and the Treatment of Archival Principles', Archives and Manuscripts, vol.6, nó.8, 1997, p.357. 21 McKemmish, op. cit., 1994, p.191. Cook op. cit., 1993, Ρ·33 expounds this view, advising that intellectual description must not be construed as reflecting physical arrangement. 22 McKemmish, op. cit., 1994, pp.191, 200-201. 23 McKemmish, op. cit., 1994, p.201. 24 Archives New Zealand has taken a flexible approach depending on the individual circumstances of transfer. It either requires the conversion of e-records to a more stable format such as paper or microfilm; allows transfer in electronic form in a small number of specified formats (MS Word, Word Perfect, plain text, or CD-ROM); or agrees to the retention of electronic archives 'in-house' with the creating agency. National Archives of New Zealand, Electronic Records Policy, URL: http:// www.archives.govt.nz/statutory_regulatory/er_policy/introduction_frame.html. 25 Migration involves movement of data to a new hardware and software environment and 'making necessary modifications to maintain its compatibility with the new generation of technology', Mitchell Parkes, Ά Review of the Preservation Issues Associated with Digital Documents', Australian Library Journal, vol.48, no. 4, November 1999, pp.369-70. Emulation is a technique in which software that emulates hardware is used once the hardware necessary for access to certain documents has become obsolete; Parkes, pp.370-1. Higgs argues that the 'complexities of maintaining electronic records in usable condition, including their migration across hardware and software platforms, may simply be beyond the capacities of archival institutions', Higgs, op. cit., p. 185. See also Bearman, op. cit., p.20.
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26 Parkes, op. cit., pp.60-2, 364. In an attempt to alleviate problems with rapid software development, the VERS Long Life Electronic Records format solution advocates the conversion of metadata and the record into a form that is expected to be viewable for the indefinite future. These forms are Portable Document Format (PDF) for documents that can be printed, and extensible Markup Language Data Definition Type (XML DTD) for databases and tabular-form data. Victorian Electronic Records Strategy Final Report, URL: http://www.prov.vic.gov.au/vers/final.htm. 27 InterPARES (International Research on Permanent Authentic Records in Electronic Systems) Project, URL: http://www.interpares org. 28 Bearman, op.cit., p.30. 29 Parkes, op. cit., pp.366-67. At the very least, any changes should be noted in the record's description. As Bearman states (p.21),'How valid the results of any given migration, or of the entire history of movements, will depend on documentation. Documentation also determines whether we can demonstrate the reliability of migrated records as evidence'. 30 Bearman, op. cit., pp.286-7. Hurley echoes these sentiments: 'Developments in the networking suggest that standardisation of information exchange protocols ... will be of more significance for accessing archival data than standardisation of the way archivists arrange and present it'; Chris Hurley, 'Data Systems, Management and Standardisation', Archives and Manuscripts, vol.23, no.2, November 1994, pp.338-59. 31 Victorian Electronic Records Strategy Final Report, sections 4.2 and 4.3, URL: http:/ /www. prov. vie. gov. au/vers/final .htm. 32 Bearman, op. cit., p.280. Higgs, op. cit., p. 190. 33 As Bearman, op. cit., notes (p.288), Metadata is a tool for control and migration of electronic information systems, but it also serves as a finding aid for access to and use of archival electronic records'. 34 Susan L. Malbin, 'The Reference Interview in Archival Literature', College and Research Libraries, vol.58, no.l, January 1997, p.73. 35 Recordkeeping professionals are concerned, according to McKemmish, op. cit., 1997, with the delivery of frameworks for accountable recordkeeping regimes that enable access to essential, useable evidence of social and business activity in the business, social and cultural domains'. 36 Standards Australia, AS 4390.3-1996, Records Management Part 3: Strategies, Homebush, N.S.W., Standards Australia, 1996, pp.5-11. 37 Barbara Reed, 'Appraisal and Disposal', in Judith Ellis (ed), Keeping Archives, 2d edn, Port Melbourne, Vic, D.W. Thorpe in association with the Australian Society of Archivists, 1993, pp.179-84. Many electronic information systems (such as email) are not designed to generate, capture, retain and maintain the records resulting from transactions, and action must be taken at design specification stage to ensure their integrity and authenticity as reliable evidence. 38 Purely peripheral, supportive and administrative records that are not important can be identified as not requiring continual appraisal; Cook, op. cit., 1994, pp.313-14. 39 Bearman, op. cit., p.13. As discussed earlier, The University of Pittsburgh has provided a useful framework to which archivists and records managers can refer when articulating evidential requirements and business needs to systems designers. Functional Requirements for Evidence in Recordkeeping. URL: http:// www.lis.pitt.edu/~nhprc/. 40 Bearman, op. cit., p.285. 41 Such recourse to appropriate legislation and regulations (both intra-organisational, and national/ international) provides authoritative backing and reinforces the need
44 Archival Theory and Electronic Records
for compliance with functional requirements; Wendy Duff, 'Harnessing the Power of the Warrant', American Archivist, vol.61, no.l, Spring 1998, pp.88-105. A multi- disciplinary approach involving consultation with information technology professionals, systems administrators, computer programmers, lawmakers, and auditors may be helpful. The advice of librarians may also be useful in the construction of metadata specifications to support document discovery and delivery in e-networked environments. 42 The archivist and records manager must emphasise their joint ability to provide 'accountability; the cost of the lack of accountability is organisational legitimacy and perhaps legal liability which are more concrete than the imagined future benefits to humanity and society of keeping archives in cost/benefit equations'; Bearman, op cit., p.286. 43 Cook, op. cit., 1997, p.48.
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46 Comment Services to Education: The Experience of the Wellington City Archives
Joanna Newman
City Archivist Wellington City Archives
Providing services to students from an archives is by no means unique to Wellington City Archives, but I hope that some of the experiences and processes shared below might be a little different and may perhaps stimulate some debate. The primary motivation for Wellington City Archives' decision to devote much greater attention to the development of services to tertiary students was that the number using our resources had increased greatly, and dealing with their enquiries had become very time-consuming and resource-intensive. The majority had been pointed in our direction by well-meaning lecturers, but most of them barely knew what they wanted to research, let alone how to use archives. Some were quite inconsiderate, not paying for photocopying they ordered or turning up to look at records that had been retrieved for them (presumably not handing in their assignments either!). Streamlining our systems was therefore a virtue arising from necessity. My arrival at Wellington City Archives in 1998 also happened to coincide with the promotion of the idea of'clusters' and the emergence of Wellington City Council's strategic goal that for Wellington 'Education is an essential contributor to a strong economy'.The Archives seemed ideally placed to contribute to this goal directly, by providing the tertiary institutions of the city with a way of 'differentiating their product'(as the professional marketers would say) by facilitating easy access by students to original material.
Why Tailor Services to Education? A number of reasons for tailoring services to tertiary students were identified, and are set out below. Apart from the first, a critical consideration, they are not in any particular order of priority:
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• To make it easier for ourselves We needed to find a way to make the provision of services to students more manageable. We did not want to discourage them, but we had to be fair, consistent, and also able to cope with the numbers using the Archives without putting at risk the service to other customers.
• WCC Strategic Goal: 'education is an essential contributor to a strong economy' Because the Archives are but one block away from Wellington Polytechnic (which has now transmogrified into Massey University), three blocks from the Victoria/Massey School of Architecture and Design (now reverted to Victoria School of Architecture), and close to a number of other tertiary institutions, it seemed that we were ideally placed to positively contribute to Wellington City Council's strategic goal of promoting educational institutions in Wellington. Both Wellington City Archives and the tertiary institutions could promote themselves as adding value to the courses in Wellington by providing the special experience of using real records as the basis for study.
• Archives add value to learning and research The archives most heavily used by students are building permit/ consent records. As well as providing a specific documentary basis for a student's project, these help put learning in a wider context. They assist students in understanding what a project is about and clarify aspects of what took place before the construction of an historic building. An example might be where students are required to redevelop an exterior space, reflecting past history to give it meaning and resonance. If we select the current Te Aro Park, we can show them records from the days when it was Wellington's Market Reserve, with an area for sheep dipping, a market hall, stables and the morgue.
• To 'grow' future good users of archives A number of the undergraduates may move on to become post- graduate researchers, or may even continue to use historical resources in their working careers. We like to think that we can introduce them to the possibilities of archives, give them some understanding of how to use them and care for them. And, as one lecturer always reminds his students when they come to inductions, they learn how to be nice to archivists!
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• Archives are retained to be used Lastly, of course, archives are primarily retained to be used. If they are kept just for our own pleasure in neat boxes in the stack room, or for a few privileged, respected researchers, arguably a point is being missed. Use should be as wide as possible (That, of course, brings its own challenges in terms of preservation, but this will be touched on later).
Who are Wellington City Archives' Student Customers? The 'customers' on whom the programme focuses are second- or third- year students. The services have been developed to manage these particular student groups because they come in larger numbers, and are generally inexperienced in the use of archives as a study resource. We do have occasional post-graduate student and academic staff researchers, but as their needs tend to be very different and their numbers are small there is no real need to develop special services for them. Our key student customers, therefore, currently come from Massey and Victoria Universities and from Wellington Technical Institute. From time to time enquiries are also received from students at other universities in New Zealand, and from as far away as Cambridge, but these, like post-graduates and academic staff, tend to be handled as one- off enquiries. The courses the students are taking are predominantly in the fields of architecture, interior design and construction. There are also a small number of urban geography students but, perhaps surprisingly, very few studying history. The collection has wonderful resources for New Zealand history, but they are simply not exploited by academic students or their teachers.
Services Before proceeding, it may be useful to outline briefly the holdings of the Wellington City Archives that are of particular interest to tertiary students. For others involved with local authority archives, the general categories available will be familiar but, being the first municipality in New Zealand, Wellington City Council's records go back to the beginnings of European settlement. The Archives holds files and documents recording events, people, places and Council activities from 1842, photographs from the 1860s, maps and plans from I860, and buildings records from 1892 onwards. The services offered to tertiary institutions are of three types: inductions, research and retrieval, and reproduction, each of which is
49 Archifacts described below. Some of these services come with a charge, but such charges are generally small. • Inductions for classes Sometimes these take the form of a presentation to a class on campus but more often, and preferably, the induction' is at Wellington City Archives. Students gather in the Reading Room, where they will be shown archives which relate to their areas of interest. Returning to the example used earlier of a project reflecting the history of Te Aro Park in a design for refurbishment, we might show them the 1877 plan of the market reserve and 1980s plans of the present ceramic and water sculpture park by a Maori woman artist. They will also be shown an early 1900s photograph depicting the market hall and morgue, as well as a photo of the space in a new form in 1930. The possibilities of files ranging over 70 years, with information about activities in the space, newspaper clippings and other miscellaneous insights into its former lives, will be suggested. At the induction we also talk about: • archives in general and their special nature; • the kinds of records which are likely to be of use to the students for their project; • how to make a request, select records and undertake research at the Archives; • the rules they will be asked to abide by in the Reading Room; and • arrangements for access and other administrative details such as response times they should take into account when planning their assignment (we do not have the same rapid turnaround for students as for the higher-paying public). The visit ends with a quick tour of the stackroom to give them a feel for what goes on behind the scenes. In all, an induction takes about 45 minutes. We also provide them with brochures and a special guide for tertiary students to take away for reference. These publications contain much of the information we have discussed with them, including details of charges. • Research and Retrieval A minimal charge is made for research and retrieval services, principally to discourage time-wasting. In return for this charge, Wellington City Archives staff: • After discussing the project with the students, undertake preliminary research (partly because we do not yet have all building records on our public access database).
50 Wellington City Archives
• Help select those records which will most likely meet their research needs. • Retrieve the records and hold them out for an agreed time. • Help with understanding and interpretation of the records. • Reproductions Students are able to request copies of material where reproduction is physically practicable. There is a fee for this, but again it is considerably less than the level at which the general public is charged. As a result of past bad experiences, we require payment before copies will be made. Reproductions are generally in the form of photocopies up to AO size, but the Archives can also provide photographic reproductions. We have recently started to offer digital images on compact disc but it will be interesting to see if price proves a deterrent (even though students receive a 50% discount on standard price).
Marketing An important part of managing student customers and developing services to them has been marketing. The Archives has used several different approaches to introduce and increase awareness of the services provided: • Individual visits An early strategy involved visits to the heads of departments and lecturers whose students had recently used the Archives. This was an opportunity to bring to their attention what had been offered their students in the past and, more particularly, what might be done if visits could be better managed. Suggestions about how services might be improved were put forward, but their input was also sought. At the end of each visit, student supervisors were left with information about the Archives services and contacts. • Marketing/Feedback function In early 2002, for the first time, a function was organised for tertiary institution staff whose students had used us in the past and those whose classes might be potential users. There was a very good turnout, with approximately 20 academic staff attending (though, interestingly, again not a single history representative). The purpose of the function was two-fold - marketing and feedback. Archives staff wanted to find out what the tertiary course providers thought of the services currently offered, and what could be improved
51 Archifacts or developed further. Should different services be considered? It was an opportunity to float such ideas as the production of digital copies of plans on compact disc, enabling a whole class to use the same set of archives, rather than having many students physically handling the same records. For those who hadn't used the Archives before, this was an opportunity to let them know what the institution holds, to get them thinking about whether the holdings might be useful to their students, potentially expanding the range of users. We had hoped, for instance, to excite some of the history academics. We were also keen to put before the research supervisors the idea of working together for mutual benefit. A frequent comment in the past (and it came up again at this session) has been, 'when will you be indexing building consents by architect?'. Unfortunately, to this question the inevitable response is that such indexing does not have a high priority, but this was an opportunity to suggest that if students wished to do an architect-based assignment, the Archives would be only too happy to make all the necessary records available in return for their enhancing access to the records! The meeting was also viewed as an opportunity to let the supervisors know about planned developments which might impact on how they design their courses. In spite of the disappointing turnout of representatives from history departments, the response was encouraging. There were lots of good ideas, helpful comments and an increased understanding of what the Archives is and how it works. Several of the academic staff signalled that they would be talking to us about their own research in the near future. Notably, since that evening, the Archives have: • had a tentative enquiry about producing a set of records on CD for a course; • costed production of digital images for individual students and worked out how the Archives would manage this service, given our own constraints; • witnessed an increase in the number of induction sessions requested, and as a result have refined these further; • had an approach from one lecturer (now privately dubbed my model' lecturer) to request that, at the end of the academic year, we meet and plan together his next year's assignments. The aim would be to maximise the use of our resources, but also to work out ways in which the students' work might assist us.
52 Wellington City Archives
Conclusion I see the services the Archives provides for students as continually evolving, developing and being further refined, the constant aims being to make life easier for the staff, to prevent overuse and damage to the archives, and at the same time to increase use. Some of the projects which will contribute to meeting these aims are the launch of our database online (at the Archives, then via the Web), as well as the making available of scanned images of photographs and building plans. Priorities for the scanning of building plans are conserved, heritage building plans and high-use CBD plans, but any plans which are required by students can be inserted into the programme (As these tend to be plans of heritage or well-known buildings, this should be quite happily accommodated). The advantage of this programme is that soon we should be able to: a) quickly and easily provide digital copies or photocopies of individual plans or sets of plans, and b) almost eliminate access to the originals. The time we spend on research and retrieval should be therefore dramatically reduced, with preservation needs also being met. In my view, tailoring services to tertiary students presents the Wellington City Archives with a wonderful opportunity to extend its customer base, now and in the future. Certainly the needs of this particular group are leading us to develop new ways of delivering our services. The service offered promotes not only the Archives but also Wellington City Council - and, possibly, the value of Wellington as a tertiary education destination.
53 Archifacts
54 Archives at the College Coalface
Paddianne W. Neely
College Archivist Wellington, Wellesley and Scots Colleges
Schools are amongst the oldest and most important of,our local institutions. Their records have therefore acquired considerable historical value, not only for the schools themselves but also for the wider communities they serve. They are vital for the writing of full and authoritative local and institutional histories, and their genealogical importance has been highlighted in the course of the enormous upsurge in family research in New Zealand. What do people commonly visualise when they think of school archives? Teaching staff are usually well organised, neat workers, so naturally this must mean well organised neat storage rooms and the school history intact. Not so, the coalface is quite different. Sadly, although public schools are Crown entities, the Government does not allow for space in school buildings or financial assistance for archives or archivists. The ACC has no classification for school archivists, they being lumped in with librarians. In the past, space for records was rarely considered by Ministry architects, and the areas that were provided were soon overflowing with accumulated records stacked on too-high-to-reach shelving. Generally, no one was appointed to take responsibility for them. As one teacher once informed me: 'We're here to teach kids - you come after the lavatories!' I happen to think lavatories are an important aspect of any organisation, but so too are archives! Is it any wonder that records and memorabilia have been lost or damaged, and continue to be lost and damaged, in so many schools? The help I'd hoped to gain years ago when I visited various schools around New Zealand proved a disappointment. Some examples may illustrate: • At Rongotai College the entire college history in framed photographs, removed from the walls during rebuilding, was drowned by tidal salt water when stored in a newly constructed basement.
55 Archifacts
• Records and a precious register were accidentally tossed out on a dump bin when Scots College was strengthening its main building. • Over 100 years of teams and prefect photographs at Wellington College were taken from the walls because the new roof leaked. Tragically, they were then placed in a disused urinal with three toilets (later to become the College Archives, the first of five moves before it was housed in a converted corridor). The frames were piled high on.the floor underneath an electrical fixture which the mice used to keep themselves warm. They wet on the photographs below, the urine soaking through the glass and frames over the years and destroying over half the images. • Queen Margaret College also had mice, in old Mowai House, when I started working there.The damp ceiling plaster dropped on the piles of papers and disturbed the nests. The Archives were then shifted across the road to another cold, damp old house, which several years later burned down after an electrical fault. • The historical records of Otago Girls' High School, the oldest girls' college in the Southern Hemisphere, shared a dirt floor basement with the cleaners' mops and buckets. • Otago Boys' High School had precious records and memorabilia thrown out by one headmaster. Fortunately, these were rescued and hidden by upset staff members who were Old Boys, and were later transferred to the present Archives, a condemned building. • Former students from Wellington Technical College, now Wellington High, crept into the off-limits area in the dead of night to rescue what records they could from under the Assembly Hall stage while workmen were in the process of demolishing the original school. Thankfully, these records are now in the care of Archives New Zealand. • Christchurch Boys' High School, Auckland Grammar School, Christ's College, Nelson College and St Andrew's College were too embarrassed to show me their so-called archives because of their poor state when I visited. Fortunately, all now have thriving museum displays and archives. These conditions are reminiscent of what I found when searching for cricket records. Minutes books, old correspondence and photographs were discovered under leaking sinks, woolsheds, the roofs of buildings, and in old gear bags (along with dried up lunches). Then there was the Nelson historian I visited who had burnt 100 years of Wisdens, valued then at $10,000, because she was sick of all the space they took
56 Archives at the College Coalface up on the bookcase. Epitomising the neglect were the seven tea chests that lay mouldering' for over 50 years under the Lancaster Park grandstand, beneath the bottoms of literally millions of patrons, infested by several generations of rats. We opened and painstakingly salvaged and cleaned the contents in our home in Wellington, only to suffer for several weeks after from a dormant bug. Incidentally, this material now forms the basis of the holdings of the New Zealand Cricket Museum. Just a warning, use a mask when cleaning old material and clean outside the Archives. The point of the examples is that for too many schools such conditions remain the norm. I was so disillusioned by this state of affairs that in 1988, on the suggestion of a friend, I flew to Melbourne and Sydney and toured around eight Australian colleges. It was like arriving from over the rainbow. Universally, these colleges were light years ahead of their New Zealand counterparts. Some archives were custom-built; others had huge expansion space. Archivists were fully employed, some with assistants. Teaching staff were given generous working hours to administer the archives. And the equipment - telephone communication within the school, huge work benches, guillotines, computers, movable shelving stacks, plan drawers and filing cabinets, tripod cameras to instantly copy borrowed photographs. As impressive were the fireproof safes for the storage of precious minute books, mannequins for uniform displays, cases for museum items, dehumidifiers and air conditioning. And conservation was a word bracketed with archives. Mylar enclosures, huge oven bags for maps, acid-free paper and boxes were in good supply. The help given was enormous, and this in the cases of both state and private schools. Keeping Archives, edited by Ann Pedersen, had already become almost the Bible for college archivists in Australia. About this time an article on Pauline and Ray Hogg, and their work at King's College Archives, Auckland, appeared in the New Zealand Independent Schools' Magazine. They had been working on a voluntary basis for years and had created a fine facility. Mention was also made of a proposed School Archives Conference. This came to fruition, a two- day event, organised by interested archivists in Auckland, including Jocelyn Hicks of Diocesan, Janet Foster of the Anglican Church Archives, and Narelle Scollay of ARANZ. The dozen or so people who attended came away thoroughly exhausted, but determined to attend again. Now, fifteen years later, this conference attracts about 60 individuals from all manner of primary and secondary schools each year. It secures excellent speakers, promotes the exchange of ideas, and provides help to new and old attendees. It is a chance to view the work being done at a different school venue each year.
57 Archifacts
The biennual Catholic Archivists Conference has been another worthwhile gathering place for school archivists. One of their guest speakers, Jocelyn Cuming from the National Library, has provided most valuable help to many of us, as has Joanna Newman. For many years in Wellington there was the Conservation Society. Now there is the Sole Archivists Group, providing for archivists who work independently in banks, schools, in small museums and various church organisations. Members from a pool of about 43 meet monthly at one another's archives to provide support and exchange ideas. Several weekend workshops are organised throughout the year. Rachel Lilburn of Victoria University has been one of our main lecturers. A similar group of archivists meet bi-monthly in Auckland, the lead figure being Christine Black of St Cuthbert's College. St Cuthbert's College has been one of the success stories for school archives in New Zealand. It has, to the best of my knowledge, the first custom-built school archives in this country. Housed contiguously to the new library, it has a spacious and well laid-out research and display area that the girls of the College and interested visitors are able to view and utilise. The archivist has excellent computer finding and recording aids at one end of the same room. The large separate air-conditioned storage room alongside has movable stacks and fireproof filing cabinets. The College's archives have come a long way from the small prefabricated building where material was once stored. Bronwyn Pratt and Christine Black have been the driving forces behind this wonderful asset. While on the subject of custom-built archives, during my 1988 visit to Sydney I trained out to Parramatta, to The King's School. There Peter Yeund, the College Archivist, who incidentally had three people working full-time on the records for him, showed me around his magnificent 'Pizza Hut' type brick archives/museum building. An amazing array of models, dressed in the different uniforms the boys had worn over the years, sat at old school desks, while up front there was a mannequin master, complete with academic gown, mortar board, cane and blackboard. Display cases were crammed with memorabilia and wondrous photographs covered the walls. Peter told me the story of the gold button. I will share it with you: A little old lady rang the school to say that she wanted to give them a gold blazer button that had belonged to her late husband when he was a pupil there. The day she visited she presented it to the Archivist at the school assembly. She then had morning tea with the Headmaster and after the usual pleasantries she was put in a taxi and sent home. The Archivist took the gold button out of his
58 Archives at the College Coalface
pocket and tossed it in a saucer in his room and promptly forgot about it. Four months later the little old lady rang again to say she would like to come and see the button. Panic stations! The Archivist searched frantically, found the button, polished it up, placed it on display with a caption card and was all ready when the little old lady arrived. She looked at the button lovingly and shed a few tears. The Headmaster had morning tea with her again. After the various pleasantries she was put in a taxi and sent home. Six months later she died. $11 million later . . I still live in hope for the Wellington College Archives (and others)! Once, when a college reached 100 years in New Zealand, almost the entire local newspaper was devoted to the historic occasion. Now such an anniversary is so commonplace it hardly warrants a mention. But it matters to the school concerned, and to the former pupils and staff who wish to return to renew old friendships, relive experiences, compare the changes. Commonly, there is a written and illustrated history to celebrate the occasion. Where are the records, the photographs, the memorabilia they all remember? That becomes part of the archivist's job. Frequently archivists are first appointed at the time of a jubilee. The workload is enormous, but exciting, and masses of items find their way back to the school. In fact it can become a deluge, so be prepared. Not only are there new items received to be taken care of, there may also be 100 years of previous records to attend to as well. One very important thing to remember when accepting donated items is to acknowledge them as soon as possible. Donors like to know their long-kept treasures have been received and are appreciated. Marketing of the archives is also an important consideration. The annual magazine should carry several pages of information and photographs illustrating what has happened throughout the year and what has been received by the archives. Write articles to interest students, staff and parents. List things required for the collections. Use the college monthly newsletter and the Old Boys/Girls newsletter. Have a noticeboard mounted with newspaper clippings to show present and past students of the college in the news. Change it frequently. Make a feature of displays of memorabilia. Speak to the Mothers' Group and the Parents'Association.They may be able to provide practical assistance as well as material. Almost all of my furniture at Wellington College - 12 plan drawers, five shelving units and eight filing cabinets - has come from Please can you help' requests in present or old student
59 Archifacts publications. Remember, too, that these are the organisations that frequently fund the work, so keep them well informed of progress. New Zealand Lotteries has also been a substantial contributor. Foster good relations with a picture framer with excellent standards of workmanship. Don't frame on the cheap. Photographs and paintings on the corridor walls are as important as a good receptionist. First impressions make a difference. Despite the cramped conditions, the silverfish, the rodents, the damp, the cold and the dirt, the lack of funding, the shortage of proper storage equipment, the worry of floods, fire and vandals - caring for college archives is a wonderful occupation. We are the guardians of the spirit of the schools. While headmasters, staff and students may come and go, archivists often stay longer. We may or may not have taught at the schools, but we have the knowledge of them and the passion to see the history preserved. It is so pleasing that so many schools and colleges are becoming archives-conscious.
60 Review Article Looking for the Phoenix*
Doug Munro
Stout Research Centre Victoria University of Wellington
Three New Zealand historians have published their memoirs. W.P. Morrell's modest and not-very-revealing Memoirs1 has fallen through the cracks. Keith Sinclair's Half Way Round the Harbour,2 although lively and assertive, has passed its 'use by date' and is readily available on the second-hand market. Completing the trio is Bill Oliver's elegantly written Looking for the Phoenix. Oliver and Sinclair had a lengthy but sporadic friendship, with . . . many ups and downs'3 and at one point Oliver refers to 'the Sinclair/Oliver (un-identical) twins'.4 It is a good metaphor to describe their similarities and differences. Both were born in the 1920s, a generation after Morrell; both came from working class backgrounds; both became history professors at a relatively young age and created (in Oliver's case) or recreated (in Sinclair's) their respective departments at Massey and Auckland; both were poets as well as historians; and in successive years they published short histories of New Zealand. But the two best known New Zealand historians of their generation were quite different in temperament, which is reflected in the chest-beating of Sinclair's memoirs and the ironic and irreverent tone of detachment of Oliver's. In personal encounters Sinclair was in your face but Oliver steers clear of confrontation because 'too often I lose both my temper and the argument'.5 Their professional routes were also divergent. Sinclair earned a New Zealand PhD (for a thesis on the origins of the Maori Wars, as they were then called) whereas Oliver took the more usual high road to success and obtained an Oxbridge doctorate (on millennialism and the General Union of the Working Class). Sinclair stayed in academic life until retirement, despite nearly being diverted into politics in 1969. Oliver got out early to become the founding editor of the Dictionary
* WH. Oliver, Looking for the Phoenix: A Memoir, Wellington, Bridget Williams Books, 2002. ix + 178pp. $39.95. ISBN 1-877242-98-5.
61 Archifacts of New Zealand Biography. In 1990 he got into, and eventually out of, the Waitangi industry. There was no double act with these; un-identical twins and their biggest difference - at least as historians - was in their approach to research, which was famously summed up by David Mclntyre to the effect that while Oliver could be found 'musing in his study, Sinclair has been rummaging again in the archives .. .'.6 No one could say about Oliver what Erik Olssen said about Sinclair - that he 'liked few things better than a day in the archives finding out what really happened, why it happened, and how it happened'.7 Sinclair stands convicted as charged; Oliver is acquitted for lack of evidence and the cast-iron alibi that he was in his study 'reflecting on significances'. He is much more at home with ideas and their connections than with folders of archives. This takes us to the part of his new book that is most likely to interest - and annoy - readers of this journal. In 1952 an entire section of the (then) Dominion Archives was destroyed in the Hope Gibbons fire. According to Oliver, '[i]η response to a pious editorial, [he] wrote a brief letter to the Listener saying that, given the overproduction of such material and given the way that fire, flood and other forms of of destruction had over the centuries reduced the evidential deposit to manageable proportions, this event might more properly be regarded as a help rather than a hindrance to future historians'.8 Well, yes. Oliver did write a letter to the Listener to that effect and, as he says, his views were roundly condemned by other historians. But, no. The Listener editorial was not a reaction to the Hope Gibbons fire for the simple reason that it preceded the fire; the Listener editorial is dated 10 March 1950 and the Hope Gibbons fire happened on 29 July 1952.To set the record straight, the Listener editorial was not inspired by the conflagration, which was two years down the track, but by an appeal for a proper archives administration by Sir David Smith (the Chancellor to the Senate of the University of New Zealand) the previous January.9 Why Oliver conflates the Listener debate of 1950 (when he was living in New Zealand) with the Hope Gibbons fire of 1952 (when he was at Oxford working on his DPhil thesis) is something of a puzzle. It is also strange that Oliver's observations about the overproduction of archives are a good deal less subtle than the line of reasoning in his March 1950 letter to the Listener.™ In his original letter, Oliver disparagingly referred to 'accumulated piles of state papers and other mouldering matter'. But he also questioned the 'uncritical enthusiasm' for archives: "The writing of history is not solely a matter of discovering facts. It is quite as much an exercise of the imagination'. This more reasoned view receives no echo in Looking for the Phoenix, only a
62 Looking for the Phoenix curious insensitivity about the preservation of God's archival bounty. He now emerges as almost an enthusiast for the indiscriminate destruction of archival records - anything to reduce the pile, irrespective of its value. The debate in the Listener rumbled on for a month and it is well worth reading; and Oliver would have saved himself an embarrassing gaffe in recalling the events of the early 1950s had he taken to heart what J.O. Miller said in his own contribution to the debate: 'Let's hope [Oliver] doesn't belong to the school that relies on its memory for its jests, and on its imagination for its facts'.11 Oliver's observation elsewhere in his book, that 'the kinds of truth contained in memories ... are all truths of a kind',12 is certainly wide of the mark in this particular instance. My quarrel with Oliver reflects, at least in part, our respective positions. He doesn't care for archival research whereas, like Sinclair, I actually enjoy the hard graft and the satisfaction of the result at the end of it all. More to the point - and correct me if I am mistaken - historical writing is ultimately possible by virtue of the survival of evidence, not its loss or destruction. But half a century after the Hope Gibbons fire, and notwithstanding the scragging he received at the time, an unrepentant Oliver ' remain [s] unconvinced . . . that history has suffered' by such acts of God and man that have reduced the archival slagheap.13 The implications of what he is saying are alarming. Are we to believe, for example, that the destruction of a substantial collection of the records of the Irish administration in the Customs House during 1921-22 Irish Civil War, or the appalling incendiarism of the diaries and journals of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, are occasions for rejoicing, because they 'reducfe] the evidential deposit of the past to manageable proportions'?14 In similar fashion, are writers such as Somerset Maugham and Thomas Hardy, who incinerated their personal papers, performing a service to literary history by rolling back the 'overproduction' of historical records?15 If so, we should deplore the discovery of the two thousand or so letters that the future Edward VIII wrote during the 1920s to his mistress Freda Dudley Ward - and the person who found the letters should be flogged in a public place. Never mind that those letters enabled Edward VIII's latest biographer to arrive at a better understanding of his subject.16 And then, so help me, another 263 such letters were unexpectedly discovered, thus burdening the researcher with yet more to read.17 So tiresome. I suspect that Oliver is rationalising a disinclination to put in the hard yards among manuscript papers. Indeed, in some respects he is more a commentator than a researcher. He reveals more than he intended in describing his 'homework' for his Story of New Zealand
63 Archifacts by saying that 'there was not all that much ... to be done' in the late 1950s, and not too much to know'.18 His major source was MA theses, which was a manageable way of writing a general history'. There is another way of looking at it: the fact that not much was known about New Zealand history in those days - that the secondary literature was meagre, in other words - meant that there was plenty still to be done in terms of archival research, despite the worst efforts of the Hope Gibbons fire. A general history, perforce, has to be written largely from secondary sources, but Oliver comes close to saying that archives don't matter. It is revealing that Sinclair has quite a bit to say about his archival adventures in Half Way Round the Harbour and Oliver little to say on the subject in Looking for the Phoenix,'9 although he did do serious archival research for his biography of James K. Baxter.20 Oliver's assaults on the historical record would more accurately be described as library research, in that he goes for the contemporary printed material in preference to the manuscript sources - as a glance at the bibliography of his Prophets and Millennialists shows. By contrast, Oliver has a great deal more to say than Sinclair about the books that made an impact on him, which supports the notion of a dichotomy between archival grubbing and an interest in ideas and their connections. It need not be the case, but apparently it is in this particular instance. Conversely, there is no reason why archival work precludes an exercise of the imagination' when it comes to writing up one's results. Getting back to Oliver's original point, the proliferation and sheer quantity of archives is daunting, to be sure; and here I am reminded of Michael Holroyd's observation that '[w]hen one has examined ten thousand letters, one may be forgiven for eyeing the next ten thousand with a certain lacklustre'.21 But the problem of runaway proliferation, as EL.W.Wood pointed out in the 1950 Listener debate,22 can be offset by sets of records being logically organised and indexed, and by the existence of decent finding aids - rather than those wretched indices of departmental papers that still occupy an entire wall of folder shelves at Archives New Zealand (By the same token, finding what you want in Looking for the Phoenix would be easier if the book had an index). Nevertheless, at the end of the day too many records are better than too few - and Sinclair expressed his preference to that effect.23 At least the evidence you're looking for might be there, even if it takes some finding. It does help, of course, if one has the temperament for archival research. Sinclair also made the point that an over-supply of archival material, as in the case of the Nash Papers, requires selective reading: 'Authors who cannot make [such] decisions are usually authors manqué.' Very true.
64 Looking for the Phoenix
Judging by the result, the book was written largely from memory - unavoidably so for much of his account of his family history and boyhood. What Oliver doesn't seem to have done is verify his memory, which would have saved avoidable embarrassment. Confusing the Hope Gibbons fire with the Listener debate over archives is just one of the book's inaccuracies. Another unhappy mistake concerns G.H. Scholefield. Few who have read it will forget Oliver's fully justified 1963 demolition derby, in the pages of Landfall,24 of Scholefield's editing of The Richmond-Atkinson Papers. Oliver checked a sampling of the edited version against the originals and, to his 'mounting horror', discovered that the two-volume publication was compromised by appalling errors in transcription and, just as bad, its editor had compromised himself by scribbling all over the manuscript originals in indelible crayon. It was a sorry finale for a man who had done so much for New Zealand historiography. To quote Oliver, [Scholefield] had, of course, been the editor of the first Dictionary of New Zealand Biography; when I became editor of its successor I found myself obliged to write his entry, because no one else would'.25 It didn't happen that way at all. Frances Porter wrote the DNZB entry on Scholefield.26 Oliver certainly wrote an entry on Scholefield but in A.H. McLintock's Encyclopedia of New Zealand,27 some 32 years earlier. As Duff Cooper once said, old men forget (Actually, Shakespeare said it first in Henry V: Old men forget, and all shall be forgot).The irony of the mistake over Scholefield is that it comes from a former DNZB editor, and the first commandment of that genre is Thou shall not perpetrate factual inexactitudes'. The second commandment is:'Thou shall not neglect to check your sources'. More generally, there is a cautionary tale in all this about the perils of autobiographers not checking their memories against the written record. Now that the grumbles have been dispensed with, we can proceed to enjoy, and not least to admire, Oliver's literary grace. In his childhood he learned something of the power of the word and the range of its uses'28 and in adulthood became the Macaulay of New Zealand historiography in terms of literary merit. He has always written with astonishing style and fluency, as well as having a hard analytical edge. Take his Story of New Zealand (I960), which was commissioned by Faber and which unhappily was allowed to go out of print - while Sinclair's Penguin History of New Zealand (1959) has lived on in subsequent editions. Oliver claims to have been an amateur' in New Zealand history when he accepted the commission.29 Maybe so, but after all these years it remains a book that is conducive not only to reading but re-reading, even if one is disinclined to accept Oliver's
65 Archifacts central thesis that New Zealand history be seen in terms of British inheritance modified by a new environment. Take, for example, the characterisation of 'King Dick' Seddon30 or the exiles of Katherine Mansfield and Frances Hodgkins.31 This is more the work of a mature scholar than a self-described 'amateur' in his mid-thirties. Little wonder that one of Fred Wood's marginal comments on the drafts was Ά touch of A+ here'!32 Nor has Oliver faltered with the march of time. Whereas Sinclair became a less engaging writer in his declining years, there is no falling away in Oliver's Looking for the Phoenix, which has the same 'seamless prose' as does the Story of New Zealand. The style is matched by the substance, if one discounts those errors of fact. Just as Sinclair's Half Way Round the Harbour contains a marvellous evocation of his childhood, Oliver's Looking for the Phoenix does this and more. As well as elaborating on his working class Methodist upbringing in Feilding as the son of Cornish immigrants, Oliver provides a moving family history and a particularly touching portrait of his Labour-activist father.33 For once the back cover blurb of a book is justified: Looking for the Phoenix really is 'painfully honest in places'. Without going the whole hog or assuming the character of a confessional, Oliver does not shrink from recalling various painful events and lost opportunities, in contrast to Sinclair who seems loath to admit a mistake. Not that Oliver submits to full open-heart surgery or to full-frontal exposure. As Michael Holroyd has said, 'All of us have griefs and fears, have stupidities, humiliations and regrets we would be rid of. We do not want them preserved in university archives, cooked up and served with a smile to the next generation. All this is acknowledged'.34 But Oliver does expand upon false turns in his academic career: for example, he was offered a publisher's contract as a start-out university lecturer to write a full biography of Robert Owen, and he laments with the words, Ί cannot imagine what induced me to neglect this opportunity'.35 There is deeper regret at the frequent enough disharmony of his married life, where the happy times of a young married couple gave way to something else, and he acknowledges that a 'failure or inability to agree that there was an obviously right way played its part .. ;.36 He and Dorothy made their peace during her last days in hospital 'with the few words it takes when it is deeply wanted'.37 Just as the dying partner had one of her last wishes granted, the surviving partner is spared unresolved problems of conscience; and that is how it should be. Looking for the Phoenix chronicles a varied life; it can be read at many levels, whether as social history, institutional history, intellectual history, or out-and-out autobiography. There are perceptive musings on
66 Looking for the Phoenix the discipline of history and on his transition from one religious denomination to another. Oliver writes with appealing modesty and there is little overt complaining (not the same thing as expressing regret). What strikes me is an example of a well-spent life, by and large, but with a large quota of wear and tear as Oliver undergoes his various rites of personal and academic passage. On the latter point his long and sometimes ambivalent transformation from British to New Zealand history is of particular note in itself and, more generally, because it anticipated the nationalistic (and somewhat insular) present-day character of New Zealand historiography. Oliver's journeys and transformations have often entailed a bumpy road, sometimes of his own making, at other times not. His time as an Oxford doctoral student was not especially joyous although nowhere near as bad as the earlier experiences of the Australian Kathleen Fitzpatrick.38 He couldn't get a university position in Britain, even at lowly Aberystwyth, so he returned home to a lectureship at Canterbury, and five years later to Vic.Academic appointment and promotion were easier in those days but otherwise it is the familiar story of a young academic getting on top of unfamiliar new courses, trying to find time for research, coping with straitened finances and trying to reconcile the competing demands of family life and academic career (In my own first year of lecturing in Queensland I struggled to meet my mortgage payments and considered taking in a boarder). It is a commentary on academic salaries of the day that Oliver, as a Senior Lecturer, Victoria, applied for the Chair at Massey because he could only afford to buy a house in faraway Johnsonville: It was not difficult to conclude that a small city with more money would be better than an outlying suburb with less'.39 He built up a department at Massey and quickly discovered the limits of academic freedom when he rashly called to question the educational merits of distance education.40 Oliver also continued his association with Comment, the liberal Catholic journal which he founded during his final year at Canterbury and whose demise is much lamented. He wrote on seemingly every conceivable subject and remarks that I seem to have been unable to leave anything alone', thus contributing weightily to public debate.41 His numerous essays have considerably added to New Zealand intellectual life. From the vantage point of Palmerston North, Oliver urged a perspective on New Zealand history that would counteract the preponderance of attention on the four main centres by taking account of the regions and localities. This resulted in his unjustly neglected history of the East Coast, Challenge and Response, co-authored with Jane Thomson, whose earlier chapters on Maori Christianity and Maori/
67 Archifacts settler relations are superb. During his time at Massey Oliver wrote Prophets and Millenialists, his swansong in British history.42 Then there is Oliver's editorship of the 'blockbuster' Oxford History of New Zealand, and his biography of James K. Baxter, both of which he which he profitably revisits,43 and the rewarding supervision of postgraduate students.44 It all sounds good, but there were stresses and strains that culminated in a crisis of confidence in 1983 when he bungled a lecture.45 It is not the first time that such a thing has afflicted an eminent historian: William L. Langer of Harvard University had a dizzy spell during a lecture and thereafter always found it a frightful ordeal.46 Oliver's disaster in the lecture theatre, coupled with domestic difficulties and a more general disenchantment with university life, precipitated his departure to the General Editorship of the DNZB in Wellington and a new phase in his journeys and transformations was underway.47 Suffice it to say that Oliver contradicts the claim in Half Way Round the Harbour that the current DNZB came to life primarily because Sinclair prevailed upon Prime Minister Muldoon to support such a venture.48 Rather, Oliver (silently) endorses Ian Wards' correction in the pages of this journal49 that the idea had been in the pipeline for quite some time. Retiring from DNZB, Oliver became involved in the Waitangi industry; the relevant chapter is likely to be as controversial as the process he describes. Historians do not often receive the accolade of full-scale biographies. There are obvious exceptions: for example, Cannadine's Trevelyan, Fink's Bloch, Haslam's Carr, Ollard's Rowse. A.J.P. Taylor has had the signal honour of three separate biographies. But usually, historians are either treated at chapter-length, or else they pen their memoirs. The latter are as varied in quality as the usual run of edited collections. Bill Oliver's Looking for the Phoenix climbs well above the ruck in literary merit, modesty, and in personal honesty and revelation. I hope that both Oliver and Sinclair will buck the trend and find their biographers; should the day come, it will be interesting to see how the biographies differ from, and add to, their memoirs. In the meanwhile we can enjoy the memorable endings to each memoir. Sinclair finished his with the observation that old age was a bugger, but getting there was most enjoyable. Oliver concludes by saying that twentieth-century New Zealand was a good place for the son of an immigrant labourer. He got opportunities here that would hardly have been possible in England, given the carefully nuanced distancing with which the English regulated their social relationships'.50 And we are the beneficiaries.
68 Looking for the Phoenix
1 W.P. Morrell, Memoirs, Dunedin, Mclndoe, 1979. 2 Keith Sinclair, Half Way Round the Harbour, Auckland, Penguin Books, 1993. 3 WH. Oliver, Looking for the Phoenix: A Memoir, Wellington, Bridget Williams Books, 2002, p.96. 4 Ibid., p. 128. 5 Ibid., p.75. 6 New Zealand Journal of History, October 1971, p. 192. 7 New Zealand Journal of History, April 1992, p.59. 8 Phoenix, p.79 9 See Archifacts, September-December 1978, p.7. 10 Listener, 24 March 1950, p.5; see also M.H. Holcroft, Reluctant Editor; The 'Listener' Years, 1949-67, Wellington, Reed, 1969, pp.47-48. 11 Listener, 31 March 1950, p.5. 12 Phoenix, p.2. 13 Ibid., p.80. 14 Ibid, p.79. 15 See Ted Morgan, Somerset Maugham, London, Cape, 1980, pp.xiii-xiv; Ian Hamilton, Keepers of the Flame: Literary Estates and the Rise of Biography, London, Pimlico, 1993, pp.241, 247, respectively. 16 Philip Zeigler, Edward VIII: The Official Biography, London, Collins, 1990. 17 Rupert Godfrey (ed), Letters from a Prince: Edward, Prince of Wales to Mrs Freda Dudley Ward March 1918 - fanuary 1921, London, Little Brown, 1998. 18 Phoenix, pp.96, 102. 19 Ibid., see pp.80, 90, 119, 134. 20 Ibid., p.136. 21 Michael Holroyd, Lytton Strachey.The New Biography, London, Chatto and Windus, 1994, p.xvii 22 Listener, 21 April 1950, p.5. 23 Jock Phillips (ed), Biography in New Zealand, Wellington, Allen & Unwin/Port Nicholson Press/Stout Research Centre, 1985, p.35. 24 LandfalJ June 1963, pp.177-87. 25 Phoenix, pp.107-08. 26 Dictionary of New Zealand Biography, vol. 4, Auckland, Auckland University Press with Bridget Williams Books and Department of Internal Affairs, 1998, pp.459-61. 27 A. H. McLintock (ed), Encyclopedia of New Zealand, vol. 3, Wellington, Government Printer, 1966, pp. 177-79; see alsoVaughan Yarwood, The History Makers:Adventures in New Zealand Biography, Auckland, Random House, 2002, pp.243-45. 28 Phoenix, p.72. 29 Ibid., p.97. 30 W.H. Oliver, The Story of New Zealand, London, Faber, I960, pp.151-58. 31 Ibid., pp.283-84. 32 Phoenix, p. 106. 33 Phoenix, pp. 1-51. 34 Michael Holroyd, Works on Paper.Tbe Art of Biography and Autobiography, London, Little Brown, 2002, p. 11. 35 Phoenix, p.96. 36 Ibid., p. 176. 37 Ibid., p.152.
69 Archifacts
38 Ibid., pp.86-91; see Kathleen Fitzpatrick, Solid Bluestone Foundations and Other Memories of a Melbourne Girlhood, 2d edn, Melbourne, Melbourne University Press, 1998, pp.210-20. 39 Phoenix, p. 110. 40 Ibid., pp.113-14; see also J.M.R. Owens, Campus Beyond the Walls: the First 25 Years of Massey University's Extramural Programme, Palmerston North, Dunmore, 1985, pp.53-55. 41 Phoenix, pp.107; and New Zealand Journal of History, April 2000, pp. 167-69 for a bibliography of Oliver's writings. 42 Phoenix, pp.118-22. 43 Ibid.,pp.l28-33, 135-36. 44 Ibid., p.126. 45 Ibid., p.139. 46 Robin W. Winks, Cloak and Gown: Scholars in the Secret War, 1939-1961, New York, Morrow, 1987, p.72. 47 Phoenix, pp. 138-39. 48 Ibid., pp.139. 49 Archifacts, October 1993, p.82. 50 Phoenix, p.89.
70 Book Reviews
Lord Chancellor's Office The Forty-third Annual Report of the Keeper of Public Records on the work of the Public Record Office and the Forty-third Report of the Advisory Council on Public Records 2001-2002. London:The Stationery Office, 2002. 94pp.£1925. Archives New Zealand Annual Report of Archives New Zealand for the nine months ending 30 June 2001. Wellington: Archives New Zealand: 2001. 60pp. Gratis. ISSN 1175-6969 Archives New Zealand Second Annual Report of Archives New Zealand for the period 1 July 2001 to 30 June 2002. Wellington: Archives New Zealand: 2002. 72pp. Gratis. ISSN 1175-6969 Annual reports are seldom the stuff of book reviews, but are perhaps not out of place in an archives journal with an interest in accountability issues; and they can be surprisingly informative. Take that for the United Kingdoms venerable Public Record Office, its national archives. Founded in 1838, its Keeper has produced a separate annual report since the 1958 Public Records Act. For many years the content and format, though not uninformative, was purely textual and quite without visual appeal. That this has now all changed can be attributed to Sarah Tyacke, Keeper since 1992, who has used her considerable entrepreneurial flair to project the Public Record Office widely. Of course a new building at Kew helped, but other means pursued have included: reaching out to family historians; an online educational programme to schools; internet access to digitised class lists; and, strikingly, co-operative alliances with other United Kingdom archives and government bodies. In short the Public Record Office has assumed a new position of national leadership, which is amply attested to in its 2000/2001 annual report. As a production this annual report would now handsomely grace any archivist's coffee table. Full colour is abundant, with, in the non-financial sections, at least one, and often two or three illustrations on each page, taking full advantage of the A4- sized, three-column format. Breakout boxes and charts are peppered
71 Archifacts throughout. In clear, short sentences we are told of the Office's function as the 'The Nation's Memory', what public records are, and the institution's vision to be 'the National Archives in 2006'. Among the initiatives of the year recounted are: the release of the 1901 Census for the first time on a web site; contributing to freedom of information road shows; organising an annual conference of government records managers; lending documents for exhibition in Northern Ireland, Sydney, Amsterdam, North Carolina and Madrid; the launching of a new family history magazine, Ancestors; sponsoring academic conferences on medieval government and on British Intelligence in the twentieth century; and initiating a project by Westminster schools for the design of a new seal for the Queen's Golden Jubilee. And this is but a sampling. There are, of course, the normal statistics. Kew readers totalled 106,000 thousand compared 100,000 the previous year; productions were 414,000 (325,000 in 2000/2001); and 95% of these were in 30 minutes The Family Records Centre, run jointly with the Office for National Statistics, attracted 158,000 visitors (167,000 in 2000/2001). The predicted demand for access to the 1901 Census site of 1 to 1.2 million users a day was far outstripped by 1.2 million users an hour in the first days of opening, forcing the site's temporary closure. For the record, the average number of full-time equivalent staff was 451 (437 in 200/2001), but surprisingly nowhere is given the extent of holdings in linear metres. Unfortunately, there is no escaping the mass of compulsory financial and other accountability information, which takes up approximately one- third of the report. Of more interest is a summary of the annual report of the PRO's Independent Complaints Reviewer. There were complaints about the preferential awarding of a commercial contract to publish military archives, and about the omission of relationship details in the 1891 Census pilot. Also included is the annual report of the Advisory Council on Public Records, which, responsible to the Lord Chancellor, is chaired by the Master of the Rolls, with the Keeper in attendance. It dealt with issues of delayed transfer of archives to the PRO (Customs and Excise and the Forestry Commission were specially marked our for censure, as was The Treasury) and with appeals from members of the public seeking access to closed records - files on activities before the Second World War of anti-imperial activists, records of the identity of spies for the Soviet Union against the Venona Project, and early release of Police files relating to a schoolfriend murdered in 1954. This report is strongly market-oriented, unashamedly trumpeting the PRO and succeeding admirably. The effect, however, can be somewhat
72 Book Reviews frantic, even disjointed. Information, particularly statistics, can be hard to find, and I personally miss the lists of transferred archives, such a feature of the old style reports. But there is no denying the new look's magnificence. It is up there with the best modern corporate presentations. As might be expected, the New Zealand reports are necessarily more modest, and certainly less exuberant, than their British counterparts. They are very significant, however, as the first two arising out of Archives New Zealand's status as an independent department of state from 1 October 2000. A touch longer than A5 and confined to two colours (black and green for 2000/2001 and tan and green for 2001/ 2002) they nevertheless have a pleasing austerity quite in keeping with a Helen Clark Government. Illustrations are invariably single colour - six in 2000/2001 and 15 in 2001/2002. Interestingly not one is of an archive. In contrast, the Public Record Office report contains 76 illustrations, all full colour, some comparatively large. Clearly the Archives New Zealand report, available free of charge, is designed primarily as a reporting instrument - to Government, to politicians generally, to senior state servants, to academia, and to archivists and other archives institutions, rather than for a wider audience. This said, however, the 2001/2002 report certainly contains important information, including evidence of solid progress; for instance, the department's appointment as custodian of the New Zealand Government Locator Metadata Standard (welcome evidence of official recognition of its expertise), the commencement of a programme of Recordkeeping Forums for government recordkeepers, the transfer of a large quantity of nineteenth- century records, including Crown Grants, from Land Information New Zealand, and the entry of 1,000,000 million records of archives in its database. Significant for prospective users, particularly genealogists, are the number and range of volunteer indexing and sorting projects being undertaken - indexing of Auckland, Hamilton, Gisborne, and Christchurch divorce records; sorting of Thames and Coromandel mining applications; descriptive writing of Maori Land Court inward correspondence, 1866-84; indexing of nineteenth century Canterbury Provincial Government records, and listing of Railways Department Dunedin District Engineers plans amongst them. It is to be hoped that such indexes will, as a matter of course, become available over the Internet to maximise their value to users, rather than remaining in-house only. Perhaps, as the report develops, more can be made of these activities, with illustrations of some of the documents. A list of major transfers would also be valuable.
73 Archifacts
The two New Zealand reports supply a good range of statistics. Visitors to all four reading rooms (Auckland, Wellington, Christchurch and Dunedin) numbered 15,256 (17,107 in 2000/2001), resulting in 48,893 productions (53,797 in 2000/2001), an interesting pair of comparisons. Holdings in all totalled 77,500 linear metres (figure not given for 2000/2001) and staff numbered 123 (96 FTE for 2000/2001), the same as for 2001/2002. Information on activity by regions is noticeably less in the later report. A minor irritation is that charted data is not always given a numerical value, or is otherwise difficult to find. A numerical table, which consolidates key statistical data, would be a distinct advantage. As with the British report, accountability and financial reporting occupies a disproportionately large number of pages - 29 for 2001/ 2002 (40%) and 27 for 2000/2001 (45%). Still, it is interesting to learn that for 2001/2002 Archives New Zealand had an income of $13.29m, but expended $14.34m, the loss being mainly due to the non-cash revaluation of two buildings. The main items of expenditure were staff $4.29m, general operating $4.84, and capital charge $3.24m. One figure not found in the British report but certainly available for New Zealand government archives is their valuation as a Crown asset, which at the end of the period under review stood at $524.01m.The Public Record Office's holdings are not valued. The New Zealand reports may still have to rise to the visual heights of their British counterparts, but they exist, are our own, and should only get better. The bad old days of self-serving repression within the Department of Internal Affairs now seem an eternity away. Stuart Strachan Hocken Library
Richard Cox and David Wallace ed. Archives and the Public Good:Accountability and Records in Modern Society. Westport, Connecticut: Quorum Books, 2002. 340pp. US$68.95. ISBN 1 56720 469 4 Accountability is a prominent theme in recent recordkeeping thinking, although it is more evident in Australasian writing than in the North American literature. This collection of case studies is a valuable addition to the growing body exploring the connection between recordkeeping and accountability, and reminds one of the case study section of the
74 Book Reviews
1993 McKemmish/Upward-edited Archival Documents: Providing Accountability Through Recordkeeping. Cox and Wallace have brought together fourteen case studies by different contributors, based on a perceived need for record-specific, accountability-focused studies for use as a teaching resource.The volume deals with many well-known episodes, including the Iran Contra affair, the US investigations into Holocaust-era assets ('Nazi gold'), and, closer to home, the Heiner affair. Some will be familiar to those who read recordkeeping discussion lists, while others will be new to many readers. The text's currency is also noteworthy, with several studies covering events into 2001. The contributors are all well qualified to deal with the matters they discuss, frequently having had direct experience of the events described. This does, however, mean that some have appeared elsewhere in print on their subjects (Victoria Lemieux wrote on the Jamaican banking collapse in Archivaría 51, and Chris Hurley's Archives and Manuscripts article on Heiner crossed my desk while writing this review). The studies are grouped under four themes: explanation; secrecy; memory; and trust. This grouping, however, is rather arbitrary, as most of these concepts are relevant to each study. The articles stand alone, and it is likely that they will primarily be used as self-contained pieces. The short introduction (13 pages) provides a good overview of the whole territory covered, but otherwise there has been no attempt to include internal cross-referencing between contributions. While this undoubtedly made timely production achievable, it is a shame that it was not possible for authors to draw parallels with other cases included in the book. There is an index, but this is of little use in comparative analysis across the various contributions. North American case studies dominate, but South Africa, Australia, Jamaica, Tanzania, and Ghana also feature. Similarly, government records feature in the majority of contributions, but personal, business and university records are also included. The collection does not appear designed to be read from cover to cover, and indeed is probably best considered as an assemblage of useful articles rather than as a coherent whole. However, having read the volume right through for this review, two key issues emerge: first, the role of the archives in relation to current records and those not considered to be of'archival value'; and second, the adequacy of existing access to information regimes. Despite its title, the book is as much about current recordkeeping as about archives management. The studies show multiple ways in which current records can support
75 Archifacts accountability - albeit, a concept of accountability that typically stretches over decades rather than the more familiar, immediate form. More problematic is the appropriate role of an archives in enabling records to be used as tools of accountability. Archives are often perceived as necessarily historical, and therefore of limited direct accountability value.A researcher comments:! had no way of knowing that the Tuskegee Study was still active. I was, after all, in an archive'. Appraisal, interestingly, is at the core of only two studies, but two which take significantly different stances on the role of the archives. Terry Cook considers 'the setting of retention periods, . . . except for records having archival value .. . [is] the accountability of the creating department or agency, not the National Archives' (p.6l). Chris Hurley, on the other hand, argues for a comprehensive role for the archives: 'the archivist's job is to identify rules and policies governing the disposal of categories of records,... to consider the reasons (pro and con) why records should be kept and for how long, and to establish a regime to ensure that records are kept for as long as necessary and no longer' (p.306). In this view, retention periods, not just eventual survival as archives, are of sufficient significance for accountability that they too require regulation. Both, however, are critical of ad hoc appraisal, taking the view that systematic recordkeeping practices, and well-established disposal policies, provide a stronger basis for accountability. Several studies centre on the issue of access to records, recognising that ultimately it is only through access to records that accountability can be achieved. Inaccessible records are a tool with potential benefit to accountability, but, unless their contents are released, they are of little effect. Perhaps it is the North American focus of several studies that sees the classification of records as a major barrier for researchers. Elsewhere Chandler and Storch point out the benefits of the Internet as an access channel for records. The importance of finding aids to enhance access is emphasised by Bradsher, who describes the contribution of the US National Archives and Records Administration to Holocaust accountability through its development of new finding aids to support research in this field. Other studies remind of the ineffectiveness of relying on archives law. Verne Harris (familiar to many for his 2001 ARANZ Conference keynote address) notes that in South Africa 'the powers enjoyed by the State Archives Service over the active records of the state were amongst the most extensive of any national archives service in the world' (p.208). However, without political support and adequate resourcing for the archives, the [security] establishment was a law unto itself in the
76 Book Reviews management of its own records' (p.209). Similar tales are told by Wallace of the US security agencies, and Shelley Davis concludes that 'the system and laws in place to protect federal records failed totally when pitted against the powerful bureaucracy and intransigence of the [US] 1RS' (Inland Revenue Service). More positively, Van Camp describes how access barriers can be removed with sufficient political will. Overall this volume brings together a valuable collection of studies. It will be particularly useful as a teaching resource, and generally as an accessible analysis of key cases for the recordkeeping profession. Much of the debate has been on Internet discussion lists, where important observations risk not being captured for future reflection. This publication ensures that some at least will remain available for mature consideration and ongoing reference. John Roberts Archives New Zealand
Simon Ville The Rural Entrepreneurs: A History of the Stock and Station Industry in Australia and New Zealand. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. xiii + 259pp.A$4995. ISBN 0 521 64265 5 Remarkably, for nations built on the returns from primary production, the historic role of the stock and station agent has until now attracted surprisingly little scholarly attention in either Australia or New Zealand. Over ten years ago (at New Zealand's first business archives and history conference, Board Rooms and Balance Sheets, jointly sponsored by ARANZ and the Stout Research Centre) economic commentator Brian Easton lamented the inadequacy of existing hagiographies and jubilee volumes, urging more rigorous analysis of what appeared to be a unique commercial phenomenon. Clearly Simon Ville, then an economic history lecturer at Auckland University, and also a conference participant, took note. The result is The Rural Entrepreneurs, a relentlessly scholarly industry-wide approach to what its author terms a 'quintessential Australasian institution'. Ville brings to his pioneering study not only the traditional skills of the historian but also insights from economic theory and more than passing familiarity with conjunct disciplines such as business law and accounting. The study opens with an overview of the development and an assessment of the place of rural industries - especially the pastoral industries - in the evolution of the linked Australasian economies. While
77 Archifacts the distillation from the works of earlier writers contains little that is new, it nevertheless provides a serviceable backdrop for exploration of the author's principal thesis. Simply stated, it is this: with Australasian farming units being relatively small-scale and family-based, as well as far from international markets, with limited access to information and resources, the responsibility for securing intelligence and funds, as well as the marketing of produce fell to 'a well-organised group of intermediaries and advisers, commonly known as stock and station agents'. These individuals and the enterprises they represented filled an entrepreneurial gap'. Ville proceeds to chart the organisational form of the agencies, from the relatively modest pre-1850 general agency businesses, through the pastoral finance companies of the later nineteenth century and the co-operatives of the early twentieth to, via mergers and takeovers, the multinational conglomerates of today. In the third chapter, possibly the most interesting (certainly from the perspective of this reviewer), the changing networking relationships within farming communities are examined, it being argued these reflected the changing character - and conditions - of settler societies. Four subsequent chapters discuss in detail the principal services offered by the agents - financial, marketing, business advice and advocacy. Inter- agency relations - competition, co-operation and collusion - are central to a further chapter. The various threads are all drawn together in a lucid concluding essay. A valuable appendix outlines in diagrammatic form takeovers and mergers within the industry. To support his case, Ville has searched widely through the pastoral records held by major repositories on both sides of the Tasman. In New Zealand the major caches were in the Turnbull and Hocken Libraries, although significantly valuable material was also found in the Fletcher Challenge Archives and in Christchurch collections. In Australia, the searches appear to have been confined to the south-eastern states, with especial emphasis on the business archives collections of the University of Melbourne and ANU's Noel Butlin Archives Centre. Indeed, it is doubtful if the study would have been possible, it would certainly have been much more difficult, without access to the documentary riches of the Butlin Centre. It is therefore ironic that, at the very time Ville 's work was coming to fruition, the Centre was again under threat of closure by the university authorities. Even more ironic is that the first proposals to close the Centre came directly from the Research School of Social Sciences (RSSS), the school of which economic history is part, on the grounds that such collections - some 13 kilometres of records - have little to contribute to RSSS research activities! Happily, as a result
78 Book Reviews of public uproar, the threat has been staved off - for the time being at least. But there is no room for complacency. In a volatile business environment, terms such as economic rationalism, downsizing and outsourcing have assumed new significance for archives and archivists. In both Australia and New Zealand in-house collections have been pared, downgraded, in some instances closed completely. And more could be in store. It is not that long ago that the New Zealand-based owners of the records of the Van Diemen's Land Company, earlier placed with the Tasmanian State Archives for safekeeping, proposed their withdrawal and sale by auction - either as a whole or as individual items. If there is a criticism to be made of this book, it is that in the emphasis on process the human face tends to be lost. Despite Ville's claim that the stock and station agent has been a legendary figure in local folklore ... a central figure embedded in rural settler communities', the social perspective is not seriously followed up. Not a single stock and station agent really comes to life. Even the major industry figures - the Thomas Morts, Frederick Dalgetys, latterly the John Elliotts - are never more than shadowy presences. This is not that sort of book. It is, instead, very professionally written business history. Within its pages there are few colourful passages or pen-portraits. Rather, the prose is dispassionate, clinical, the logical reasoning always supported by a full scholarly apparatus of graphs, tables and models. It would be incorrect to suggest the adopted approach is wrong. The book will undoubtedly attract an interested academic, and presumably business, readership. It will be regularly referred to, and unashamedly be mined, by other scholars. They will have good reason to be grateful to Simon Ville for his efforts. The pity is that the book is unlikely to attract a wide general readership. Whether or not the material might have been more interestingly packaged, without compromising the author's scholarly intent, is a difficult question. Even posing it may be another example of the reviewer crying for the book that might have been written rather than celebrating that which has. Overall, The Rural Entrepreneurs is an impressive contribution to Australasian business and rural history. Ville provides future researchers both with a context for more detailed studies of individual firms and an exemplar of just how such research may be conducted. It is likely to have a long shelf-life.The book will also be a handsome addition to any library. At a time when soft covers with perfect binds have tended to become the academic publishing norm, this volume is well laid out, printed on good quality paper, stitched and case-bound, with an
79 Archifacts attractively designed dust-jacket. It is a reminder of what scholarly publishing used to be. Brad Patterson Stout Research Centre Victoria University of Wellington
R.C.J. Stone From Tamaki-Makau-Rau to Auckland Auckland:Auckland University Press, 2001. xii + 350pp. $5995. ISBN 1 86940 259 6 In 1840, when the tangata whenua of Tamaki-Makau-Rau decided to call on Governor Hobson to come and live in their midst, the relatively unpeopled condition of Tamaki at that time was at odds with the natural wealth of the area and evidence of heavy Maori settlement in years gone by. To understand this paradox and discover why Ngati Whatua, the tangata whenua of Tamaki, were anxious for Hobson to live in their tribal region, Professor Russell Stone seeks to understand the complexities of pre-1840 Maori society. He uses a strong narrative line to trace the early Maori settlement of the region through to the arrival of Europeans in the north. From Tamaki-Makau-Rau to Auckland is a traditional, chronological history, aimed at a wide readership. The first two chapters cover Auckland's prehistory and early Maori settlement, with a focus on the period c. 1600-1800. Stone emphasises the importance of Tamaki-Makau-Rau as a highly desirable land base with abundant natural resources, fertile volcanic lands, and an important portage linking the Manukau harbour in the west with the Waitemata harbour in the east. Here Stone begins to explore one part of the paradox - the wealth of Tamaki periodically attracted outside tribes, making the isthmus one of the most prosperous and densely populated regions in Aotearoa. This produced a Maori culture with advanced gardening techniques and a canoe trading network, over which scarce commodities could be exchanged, and ideas and technologies transmitted. Such a desirable area naturally created a climate of competition for resources and Tamaki Maori were obliged to develop the arts of defence and war. However Stone rebukes earlier prehistorians for their image of a region subject to incessant warfare, concluding that, although there was war, regional peace was the norm. Peace on the Tamaki isthmus was largely due to the absorption of newcomers through peaceful means, including politically arranged inter-tribal marriages. These created a proliferation of kinship bonds between hapu
80 Book Reviews that were the best means of sharing resources and resolving conflict, and gave Tamaki its unique tribal character. Until the 1760s it was the Waiohua tribe who held the mana whenua of Tamaki, having joint use of the region with à loose collection of hapu informally linked by intermarriage or shared resources, or for mutual defence. This era was ended by the conquest in the mid-eighteenth century of Tamaki-Makau- Rau by the Kaipara tribe of Ngati Whatua. The sources for these two chapters, as Stone recognises, have little claim to originality. They are largely a work of synthesis, a putting together of the findings and formulations of mainly archeologists and prehistorians specialising in the Auckland area. Stone has, however, also drawn on various reports produced by the Waitangi Tribunal relating to the Auckland area and the Graham manuscripts held in the Auckland Public Library. Chapters three through to six represent a far greater part of the book, taking in the years 1800-1838. In this section, Stone delves into the two most significant agencies of change affecting Maori of Tamaki- Makau-Rau from the early nineteenth century - the widening scope of tribal warfare, and contact with western society. He outlines how European contact brought with it a barter economy, enabling Maori, especially Ngapuhi in the far north, to exchange local produce for foreign goods, increasingly muskets. It is to this imbalance of tribal power, brought on by an unequal share of guns, that Stone attributes the ultimate déstabilisation of Tamaki-Makau-Rau over this period. By the 1820s the rules of Maori warfare can be seen to have changed dramatically. Ngapuhi had acquired the lion's share' of firearms in Maori hands and were travelling on long-range expeditions to enact the traditional practice of tribal utu, but with the devastation of European muskets. The impact in Tamaki-Makau-Rau was enormous. With war parties constantly passing over its portages, it was not a safe place, and enforced migrations of refuge to the inner Waikato ultimately weakened the Ngati Whatua tribe. By the mid-1830s Ngapuhi were beginning to lose their monopoly on guns and so of power, tentatively allowing Ngati Whatua to return to their lands in Tamaki-Makau-Rau. In this part of the book Stone attempts to measure the forces of change on the tribes of Tamaki by capturing the Maori version of that period as well as the European. He has made intensive use of the Orakei Minute Books, relying heavily on evidence recorded during the 1866 and 1868 sittings of the Native Land Court, which deliberated on the ownership of the Orakei Block. Notable witnesses used to recall events, particularly the Ngapuhi war campaigns, include Apihai te Kawau.Te Keene and Haora Tipa. Next to Native Land Court Maori accounts Stone ranks testimony
81 Archifacts contained in journals of missionaries, such as Samuel Marsden, John Buder, Henry and William Williams, and William Fairburn. He has also used the memoirs of European travellers and adventurers, for instance, Captain Richard Cruise, Dumont d'Urville, William White and Joel Polack. Drawing on Maori testimony and the accounts of Europeans who visited the region from 1820, Stone sets down a history of Tamaki with some complexity. The resulting abundance of detail in this section of the book is rather heavy going, rendering the main thesis difficult to follow. The last five chapters cover the period 1838 to 1841. They trace the coming of peace to the Tamaki region, the return of Ngati Whatua to their tribal lands, and the early colonial period - the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi, and Governor Hobson and the founding of Auckland city. Stone emphasises how peace for the Maori of Tamaki was reliant on alliances. One obvious alliance for the Ngati Whatua was with Potatau Te Wherowhero, paramount chief of Waikato, an important and influential Maori leader who would later become the first Maori King. Another was with the missionaries. Their efforts to promote peace amongst the tribes came at a time in the late 1830s when Maori themselves were war weary. This gave the missionaries a decisive influence on Maori society, something that had previously eluded them. However, as Stone correctly argues, by allowing missionary activity in Tamaki, the Ngati Whatua chief Te Kawau was simply buying a Pakeha who would bring him mana, help ward off hostile attacks, and attract trade. With the signing of the Treaty in 1840 and the coming of British rule, Te Kawau once again sought to have the most influential Pakeha, Governor Hobson, live in Tamaki. Stone asserts that Te Kawau's anxiety to have Hobson in Tamaki in many ways reflected how vulnerable Ngati Whatua still were. Uprooted by the musket wars and propelled into a generation of constant migration, their tribal numbers were low. Their motives for the invitation were complex, including also a hunger for white man's goods and a desire to gain access to western technology. Hobson's reasons for wanting to establish the capital city of New Zealand on the Tamaki isthmus were simple. Tamaki had few Maori inhabitants in 1840 and Ngati Whatua wanted him to settle there. This, according to Stone, is the key to understanding the paradox of how Tamaki-Makau-Rau, once a flourishing, populated region, devastated by the effects of European contact and war, came to be Governor Hobson's capital city, Auckland. This section of the book takes on the more conventional aspects of its historical sources. The oral testimony of Maori from the Native Land Court records and memoirs of Europeans remain prominent, but the close interest of the British Government in
82 Book Reviews the affairs of New Zealand and the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi mean that Stone increasingly relies on published official records. The content of the last five chapters reflects this. Stone, a distinguished historian, has written on various aspects of Auckland's early history, including Makers of Fortune: A Colonial Business Community and its Fall (1973), Young fohn Logan Campbell (1982) and The Father and His Gift:fohn Logan Campbell's Later Years (1987). From Tamaki-Makau-Rau to Auckland represents a departure from his specialisation in the colonial period to a far different one. Stone states in the foreword that, upon completion, his book was given to an accomplished Maori scholar who observed that it was not a history that a Maori would have written. I tend to agree. This is the book's major weakness. Stone is a Pakeha historian writing Maori history from a Pakeha perspective. It is well-researched in the western academic sense, but at times the text reflects Stone's lack of in-depth knowledge of the complexities of Maori society. There is little mention of the whakapapa or genealogical links that knit together many of the hapu and iwi of the Auckland region and wider Aotearoa. Within Maori historical methodology whakapapa is integral. It is what binds the people to the land, and is the base from which to establish chronology and organisation of the text. In Stone's defence, this is essentially a history written to illuminate the circumstances surrounding the offer by Maori of their ancestral lands to Governor Hobson for the founding of Auckland city. So it is not strictly a Maori history of Tamaki-Makau- Rau. It is a regional history of the impact upon traditional Maori life of the first European settlers, describing what all pre-1840 Maori communities in Aotearoa were struggling with. In this sense the book may be seen as an epitome of the history of all Aotearoa.
Jeanette Wikaira University of Otago Library
Bronwyn Dalley Living in the 20th Century: New Zealand History in Photographs 1900-1980. Wellington: Bridget Williams Books and Nelson: Craig Potton Publishing in association with the Ministry for Culture and Heritage, 2000. 280pp. $49.95. ISBN 1877242 128. Drawing from the extensive photographic collection at Archives New Zealand (a million images from the late-1860s to the mid-1990s), Living
83 Archifacts in the 20th Century explores everyday life in New Zealand from 1900 to the mid-1980s' (Introduction). Well-written essays surround and expound on the more than 350 black and white photographs providing the reader with an illustrated overview of paid and unpaid work, recreation and leisure, communications, accommodation and shelter, hair and clothing, food and drink. A final chapter sets the foregoing sections into the wider national and international contexts by considering how major events were depicted rather than their effect on the ordinary New Zealander. Thus the photographic sequence in this chapter commences with an image showing soldiers from the Boer War, moves through the celebration of the coronation of George V in Hokianga in 1911, includes photographs from the First and Second World Wars, records changes in the political scene, remembers lives of note (Janet Fraser, wife of the Prime Minister Peter Fraser; Te Puea Herangi), recalls royal visits, considers the impact of the 'baby boom' and ends with the 1981 Springbok tour protests. Most readers will be astounded at the variety of the photographs that emerge from a collection described as charting 'the activity of the state from the 1860s to the early 1990s. That the coverage is so broad is in large part due to the creation of the government photographic branch, part of the Tourist and Publicity Department, in 1901. While the role was at first essentially a public relations one, and while the branch's output has been criticised from time to time as 'superficially beautiful, conservative' and unimaginative', the National Publicity Studio (as it became known in 1945) moved throughout the country recording all aspects of New Zealand life until the organisation's demise in the course of the public sector restructurings, of the 1980s. Additionally, a number of government agencies (Railways Department, Lands and Survey, the Forest Service are examples) either employed or contracted photographers for special events. Add to these formal collections numerous photographs acquired more informally (staff members recording events, members of the public providing their records for anniversary publications) and the result is a vast, relatively untapped resource. Dr Dalley notes, however, that while there are some unsurprising gaps in the collection, for instance the more intimate moments of family and private life, there are also few depictions of events that challenged the actions of the state. Photographs were selected for this publication to show 'glimpses of everyday life and values'. The result is fascinating, made the more so by recognition of just how much can be gleaned from photographs
84 Book Reviews taken for quite other purposes. Dalley roams generally and widely through the social history of the period. There is much in the images which, depending on the reader's age and memories, will bring forth exclamations of recognition, or in other cases wonder at what our forbears had to contend with. The Sole Brothers and Wirths Circuses which toured New Zealand in the 1950s must have been those I saw as a small child in Richmond, Nelson; the school milk delivery brings a curl to the lip; and I remember very clearly my mother cooking on a coal range. Clothes from the fifties and sixties bring smiles of recognition (what did happen to those skirts and stilettos?). More soberingly, one marvels at how the women of the early part of the century managed in the dirt and heat in their long skirts. While not primarily intended as a history of the development of photography in New Zealand, the contrasting examples, often on the same or facing pages, well demonstrate how technical standards of photography have changed. While the reproductions are almost universally excellent, assisted by the outsize format of the volume, many of the early photographs tend to be less crisp and more static. As the century progresses and the equipment and techniques become more sophisticated, so is more movement captured. Thus the collection ranges from the formal portraits of the turn of the century to the 1979 skateboarder at the top of the ramp beginning his descent. The change is the more telling by the fact that opening at any page will tend to show a cross section from a number of decades. The last twenty years of the century are not adequately covered. This is largely because the Archives New Zealand collection is predominantly, if by no means exclusively, built on the former holdings of the National Publicity Studio. The loss of dedicated photographers following the Studio's closure, and the fact that more recent photographs are still retained by the commissioning agencies for ongoing use, makes this decision understandable if less 'tidy' than might have been ideal for a work incorporating '20th century' in its title. This is a well-presented, attractive work. If there is a quibble, it is that the photographic credits use the Archives New Zealand codes or identifiers for the originating departments, and nowhere do these appear to be translated. This ensures that all photographs could be located by a visit to the institution, but the general reader, not planning to research at Archives New Zealand, might have benefited from access to this information. Nor do the captions for individual photographs include identifying department information, a detail which, while probably in most cases unnecessary, in others may have added a surprise element.
85 Archifacts
Dr Dalley is to be thanked for guiding us on an educational and enjoyable journey through the 20th century development of our country, one which reveals more each time the work is picked up. That, in itself, is a considerable achievement. Kathryn Patterson Wellington City Council
86 BACK ISSUES OF THE JOURNAL AVAILABLE
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87
Archives and Records Association of New Zealand
Patron Her Excellency The Hon Dame Silvia Cartwright, PCNZM, DBE Governor General of New Zealand
CouncÜ 2002-03
President Alison Fraser Acton Fraser & Associates Wellington
Vice Presidents JohnTimmins Museums Business Unit Dunedin City Council Kevin Molloy Archives New Zealand Wellington
Secretary Tiena Jordan Whakatane District Museum
Membership Thérèse Angelo RNZAF Museum, Christchurch Secretary
Treasurer Philip Colquhoun Commerce Faculty Victoria University
Editor Brad Patterson Stout Research Centre Victoria University
Council Russell Clarke Ministry of Social Policy Wellington
Triona Doocey Archives New Zealand Christchurch
Lucy Marsden Massey University Palmerston North
Joanna Newman City Archives Wellington City Council Lois Robertson Dunedin Narélle Scollay Archives New Zealand Auckland Stephanie van Gaalen Nelson Provincial Museum