THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Recollections of Ben Meek OAM To my beloved wife and family

1 2 Contents

Ideal Childhood in Fiji 4 The Record Flood of February 1931 10 Grandma’s Nerves 11 My Extended Family 17 Changing World Views 25 Teaching at Binnaway 31 The Commonwealth Public Service 34 A Fortunate Meeting 37 New Beginnings (and a Russian Spy) 41 Assassinated President and Princess Margaret’s baby 46 A New Job 51 Life in Papua New Guinea 54 Fighting the Department of Territories and Winning 60 A University Built On Lamington Drives 63 Kiama: An Ideal Place For Retirees 72 At Last Our Little Cottage In The Country 83 Looking after Wollongong’s Heritage 89 Return to Wollongong (and its corrupt City Council) 96

3 Ideal Childhood in Fiji

Tuesday, April 12, 2016 Growing up in Fiji was unusual and happy for myself, born there on 11 December 1928, and my elder brother Mike (James Michael) born in Melbourne on 23 April 1927.

Home was the Navuso Agricultural School established in 1924 by the Australian Methodist Church’s Overseas Missions with my Father as the Principal and for Mike and myself a 400 hectare playground.

Before writing about our life, however, I need to write something about Methodism, because it was all around us, and somewhat all-pervading. I also need to briefly discuss my parents as their influence was of course equally pervading.

Methodism First, Methodism. There were two features of Methodism that tended to distinguish it somewhat from other Christian denominations and indeed explained why there was a Navuso Agricultural School at all. One was that they were enthusiastically evangelical (“Go ye into the World and preach the Gospel to every creature” was their slogan). The other was a strong social conscience and a concern for the education, health and progress of the needy. They had long since converted the ‘heathen cannibals’ of Fiji to Methodism, but establishing a school to teach modern farming methods to young Fijians was a very practical demonstration of their social conscience.

Another important aspect of Methodism was simple living. Indeed, it was puritanical. Dancing, gambling, alcohol and ostentatious living were completely banned. Smoking was condemned as extravagant. Sunday was designed mainly for attending church and/or Sunday School and any vigorous activity on Sunday was frowned on.

Navuso Agricultural School

Navuso Estate

The school was an innovating and imaginative pioneering scheme for teaching young Fijians modern agricultural methods. There was some classroom teaching but it concentrated on highly practical training, even to the extent that in their final year the students each had their own plot on which they grew crops and made money. This gave them cash to buy equipment, seeds and plants when they returned to their villages. The cost of running the school were met by donations from Methodists in Australia and from

4 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 leasing out much of the rich river flats to Indian tenant farmers to grow sugar cane.

As a result there was always varied activity around the place, cattle, pigs, horses ploughing, cutting sugar cane, etc. For Mike and me it was a 400 hectare playground with plenty to do, with amiable and caring young student Fijians everywhere keeping interested eyes on the Principal’s children. Beyond the farm was jungle – a threatening place for occasional supervised exploration.

Morrisey Memorial Church, Dauvilevu (Methodist Mission Headquarters) built late 1910

Our parents both came from evangelical Methodist families. My Grandfather Meek, who had died in 1924, was a Methodist minister. My Grandfather Morrissey, who had died young in 1910, was a most generous supporter of missionary work, so much so that a church was built five kilometres down the river from Navuso as a memorial to him.

Father with some students and the Suva Show cup for best agricultural exhibits (ca 1934)

My Father was always cheerful and philosophical. He was very much an outdoors person. He was one of the early students at Hawkesbury Agricultural College (now part of Western Sydney University) and got a Diploma in Agriculture there in 1902 aged about 20. He then managed a butter factory at Orange, NSW, took up a farm at Hobbys Yards, and worked as what would now be called an extension officer for the NSW Department of Agriculture. His pioneering work setting up the Navuso School had a big impact in Fiji. From a 1951 newspaper report :

“ … the majority of successful Fijian farmers and Agriculture Department men were trained at Navuso under B.C. Meek in the 20s and 30s. One only has to listen to village conversation to realise what Mr Meek’s 12 years of service here did for the Fijians.”

I cannot remember him ever mentioning God or Jesus – Mike thought that he probably

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 5 had a humanist, nature-loving belief and no interest in organised religion, but he was very generous and considerate of others and would never have upset anyone by questioning Methodist beliefs.

Olive Meek (Mother)

A kind and caring God and Jesus were central to my Mother, who took life seriously, and was very concerned to ensure that we grew up well-educated and Christian. This was tempered, however, with a great sense of humour, a love of music, literature, language and education, a keen interest in current affairs, and an absorbed interest in people – my Mother could find interest in even the most boring missionary lady. My cousin Anne, who understood her well, described her as “exemplifying humility and simplicity, wisdom and kindness”. She was also a very gifted teacher, first at the University High School, Melbourne, and then for eight years had run the only teacher-training centre in Fiji, the Methodist institution at Davuilevu, three miles down river from Navuso.

My parents, being very honest and sincere people became disenchanted with organised religion, observing the behaviour of many of the clergy on the mission field, engaging in power plays, dishonesty, even in one case financial impropriety. I was of course not aware of this at the time, although I knew that my parents made a distinction between “mishes” (the clergy) and the teachers and medical missionaries doing socially useful work. I probably picked up some of their attitudes on this instinctively at the time, and this became clearer and important for me later.

Benjamin Chapman Meek in front of the Mission House in Fiji

6 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Returning to our lives at Navuso, our house, known as the Mission House, was rather basic. Three rooms in a row – parents, bedroom, dining room, and Mike’s bedroom; front verandah with part partitioned off for me; back verandah with Father’s office partitioned off and a swing for the children; a ramp down to the bathroom and separate kitchen. Always a bunch of bananas hanging by the tank for the hungry. The verandahs were well used as it rained most days – 3000mm a year (nearly three times Wollongong’s average.)

There was no radio, television, running water or electricity and we were isolated on the opposite side of the broad Rewa River from roads, cars and shops, so we rarely met other children. Missionaries of course were not well paid, so life was simple and basic, but there were plenty of books, a wind-up gramophone with 78rpm records and of course always endless possibilities in the 400 hectare playground. We did not feel at all deprived. I think our Mother regarded simple and economical living as a proper part of Christian life; while our Father was always happy whatever the circumstances.

The capital of Fiji, Suva, was only about 25 km away but getting there was a performance. The house had originally been down on the river flats but after just surviving the record flood of 1931 ( another story) it was moved on to a hill. So to get to Suva, first we walked half a kilometre down a muddy track to the river bank, often then having to change into clean dry clothes, then students rowed us across the huge Rewa River, about half a kilometre wide at that point; then a taxi down what is now called The Queen’s Road five kilometres to the town of Nausori. Here we got a vehicular punt back across the River, and then with no further obstacles on to Suva.

“That one will be Mother’s baby and I’ll be Father’s”

Mother with Mike and baby Ben

Apparently from my birth there was always a closer relationship between my Father and Mike. Father’s recollections : When Ben was born, Mike had a look at him and said :- “That one will be Mother’s baby and I’ll be Father’s .” Thereafter he attached himself to me on every possible occasion, and when Ben was old enough he seemed to accept the edict.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 7 Father with Michael

Mike obviously adored our Father and I became more attached to my Mother. This became more established when correspondence school lessons began. I took to them with enthusiasm. Mike, on the other hand, was very smart with a keen logical brain even then, but he was impossible to keep home for lessons as he preferred to follow our father and the students around the farm. The solution seemed to be to send him to Suva Grammar School and live in a hostel for isolated missionary children. The plan was not a success either at hostel or school. From Mother’s diary :

Miss Watson ( kindly matron of the Hostel) : Michael, there are some things you do that I do not approve of. Michael : Miss Watson, there are things you do that I don’t approve of.

The school part was no better :

Michael’s report was not very good, so I asked if there was anything he was top at. Michael : The Inspector thought I was the best marcher. Mother : What did he say? Michael : He didn’t say anything, but he could see that I was.

Mike and I were not particularly simpatico and I was happy to spend a lot of time on my own. When he went to board in Suva to attend school, a visitor said : “You must be lonely without your brother” and I replied: “I am more lonely when he is home.”

8 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Michael and Ben at the Mission House (ca 1931)

We were always very conscious of the presence of God and Jesus and their interest in us. From Father’s diary :

There was an overhead tank between the house proper and the kitchen, and the drip from it created a plasticine-like substance with the clay. One day Mike was so enamoured of the animals, motor cars and such that Ben produced that he said : “ They are so good that you would think God had made them.”

From Mother’s diary :

Ben had been troublesome during the day so at evening prayers I prayed : “O God, forgive Ben for his naughtiness today and help him to be a better boy.” He commented : “I don’t care for that sort of prayer and I didn’t shut my eyes for it. Now we’ll have ‘Lord, when we have not any light and mothers are asleep’ and sing it please.”

A brief note on discipline. We never had any physical punishment: unlike many children in those days, our parents would have seen that as barbaric. The worst we got was overt displeasure or what was called “a good talking to” from our Mother. That could be rather formidable, especially if it included indications of God’s disapproval. Mike got far more of this than I did; even as a small boy he always did what he felt like doing, whereas I was generally well-behaved and keen to have at least my Mother’s approval.

I was obviously rather sanctimonious from an early age. From Mother’s diary,Ben : “Daddy says such rude things and God hears him.” My Father no doubt found this a bit hard to put up with. He and I did not always see eye to eye, and I must admit that at least later on I used to find him rather irritating at times. Our relationship was probably a rather formal one.

All this ended abruptly at the end of 1935 just before my seventh birthday. Mother, Mike and I went by ship to Melbourne on holidays but that became a permanent return to Australia.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 9 The Record Flood of February 1931

Tuesday, April 12, 2016 The flood of February 1931 is still the Rewa River’s worst since records began in 1840. During the concurrent hurricane, there was a record of at least 225 deaths throughout Fiji.

The Rewa rose to six feet (nearly two metres) above its previous record height. At Navuso, all the students, tenant farmers and their families survived, thanks to my Father’s foresight, competence and cool-headedness in a crisis.

Bridge from Navuso estate to the fertile island deposited after flood in 1932

My Mother, Mike aged 3 and myself aged 2 had a terrifying launch trip across the flooding river to safety; my Father stayed behind to protect the students and others, as well as some of the property. He saved our house, which was built on stumps with water coming three inches into the house, by keeping the students inside to weigh it down against the water current. He kept the students so calm in the drama that some of them even went to sleep. He left a kerosene lamp in one window through the night so that my Mother on the other side of the river could be assured that they had not been swept away. I expect she didn’t have much sleep.

Cousin Helen claimed that my Mother’s hair turned white overnight which is not likely (and Helen was far away in England), although her hair did seem to change from black to white fairly soon afterwards. Mike claimed to remember the drama, but his recollections do not square with the facts – he remembers sitting on top of my Mother’s piano to keep out of the water, but I know she never took it to Fiji. So much for the value of our personal memory.

10 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Grandma’s Nerves

Friday, April 22, 2016 The next stage of our lives was very different. For Mike and myself, freedom gave way to structured boarding school life in Melbourne, and kind loving parents were replaced by rather remote teachers and an unhappy matron and sub-matron. Our Father stayed on in Fiji for a year or so, and our Mother lived in the Morrissey family home in Melbourne, “Mandalay”, finding herself obligated to sort out a difficult family situation, of which more later.

Melbourne and Boarding School What happened was that in early December, 1935, my mother, Mike and I arrived in Melbourne from Fiji by ship (I think it was the American “Mariposa”) for a holiday. Our Mother thought that we were not in top physical condition, and in those days it was believed that it was undesirable to raise European children in the tropics, so she got advice from her brother, our Uncle Gordon, who was a doctor, and decided that we should stay permanently in Australia.

I had bright red hair which was an embarrassment so the photographer tinted it to dark brown

In a normal family, Mother, Mike and I would have lived with Grandma who had a huge house with plenty of bedrooms but in no time, after arrival from Fiji, we were in a holiday cottage at a beachside suburb, Black Rock. Then, at the end of the school holidays, Mike and I went to Wesley College Preparatory School as boarders. I thought it was to avoid catching tuberculosis from Aunt Jean but my Father’s memoirs noted (and Mike confirmed) – “The boys were sent to boarding school because they were too much for their grandmother’s nerves. “

Boarding school was a shock, as we were used to relaxed caring family life and the freedom to roam around the farm school. There was no bullying or cruelty but I detested it. The men teachers were okay, but I think one essential selection criterion for appointment of women staff at Wesley was dislike of small boys. There was angry red- faced Matron, Miss Marshall, depressing deputy Miss Dunn, and frumpish teacher Miss MacIntyre (the best she could put on my first ever school report aged seven was – to Aunt Evelyn’s delight – “too talkative.”)

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 11 Aunt Evelyn : What is Miss Dunn like (the deputy matron). Ben : She’s the kind of person who says “ Meek 2, go and brush your hair – immediately when you were just going to do it anyway”. Aunt : What don’t you like about the school? Ben : The noise. Aunt : What does Michael think about the noise Ben : He’s part of it. (Mike was also always in trouble at school)

What I liked most, in addition apparently to peace and quiet, was reading even at age seven. My Father was amused when the pompous Principal, Eddie Wells, said to him : “This boy is a great reader.”

There were about 22 boarders, aged 6 to 13, in three dormitories. Several had parents who, like my father, were missionaries in Fiji or New Guinea. (There would have been heavily reduced fees for them). The days were fully organised including showers in the morning (hot, then cold – supposed to be good for the character), line up at Miss Dunn’s toilet after breakfast (inevitably she was known as Miss Dunnypan), hymns and prayers in the chapel before school lessons. All meals had to be eaten completely, even if they made you vomit. Worst were Thursdays – parsnips, rhubarb, corned beef with white sauce, black currant jam. Hence my continuing food fads.

Friday was punishment day. Teachers at Wesley did not use the cane. They would give you “conduct marks” for various forms of bad behaviour, and if you got three in one day or five in a week you went to the Headmaster on Friday. He would give you cuts of the cane “on the bare bum”, four or six, depending on how serious the crimes were. I was usually well-behaved and only got it once, most likely for talking in class. I suspect the Headmaster enjoyed it – he was a rather pompous bachelor who stayed as Headmaster until his death at age 63.

My parents never owned a car but Aunt Evelyn had a Model A Ford circa 1928. We would encourage her to get it up to top speed – 60 km an hour on a long downhill run on Heatherton Road. Students said what a funny old-fashioned car it was (perhaps as much as 8 years old) but I was positive and said : “Well, it still gets us there.”

Saturday mornings, we were given our pocket money – I got threepence (five cents in modern money), later sixpence. Saturday afternoon we often saw our Mother and Aunt Evelyn who took us on a drive to a picnic spot (never at “Mandalay”).

Once a month we were let out for the greatly looked-forward to whole weekend. We mostly went to a kind childless couple, Leila and Ronald Scott, who overfed us, or to

12 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 various kind and enthusiastically Methodist relatives.

My best recollection of the school was my 8 th birthday. (We didn’t go in much for birthdays in our family and this is the only one I remember.) Aunt Gertrude had thoughtfully organised a magnificent cake iced in the school’s colours, a remarkable purple and gold. It was Speech Night and I got a great prize, “The Magic Pudding” which my own children also enjoyed years later. December 11, 1936 was also an important world date – the abdication of King Edward VIII.

My father came back from Fiji at the end of 1936, just before Speech Night. We hadn’t seen him for over a year and had probably forgotten him.

Father’s recollections: When I returned to Australia, I went to see them. Wells, the Headmaster, brought them into the waiting room and told them to greet their father. Michael stepped forward two paces and shook hands solemnly and Ben followed suit. I took them to see Wirths Circus near Toorak Road where they confided that they were not sure at all at first that I was their father.

Mandalay

Grandma Morrissey’s house, Mandalay, 3 Molesworth St, Kew, Melbourne

Returning now to my Mother’s family. The house, “Mandalay”, was very large, on a 100 foot by 300 foot block, and at the back were a tennis court, garage, woodshed, toilet for the gardener (with an old telephone book for use instead of toilet paper), storage rooms, and the “tennis room”, later big enough to be used as a bedroom when there were four teenagers to be housed.

Until the Depression of the 1930s, the family had been very comfortably off, although as Methodists they lived simply and economically (apart from having a big house) but by 1935 most of the assets had gone, except the house. As well as my Mother, there were four regular residents: Grandma Morrissey, Aunt Jean, Aunt Evelyn and Aunt Gertrude.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 13 Grandma Morrissey, 71, always unpleasant, now showing signs of dementia

Aunt Jean, 29, greatly loved by all and in fragile health (she died in 1938)

14 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Aunt Evelyn, 45, sharp tongued and rather bitter but also capable of great love and the rock that kept the family together

Aunt Gertrude (no photos of Aunt Gertrude can be found) was a classic case of what would now be seen as Asperger’s Syndrome. There was absolutely no understanding of her situation in those days so she was regarded as just difficult and unpleasant, and she indeed created regular domestic foment for everyone. She had worked very efficiently in public relations but was now unemployed, having resigned on principle at the height of the 1930s Depression, when her employer promoted an inferior male employee over her. (Such treatment of competent women was very common in those times). As a result, she was home all day and, although she was capable of kind acts was extremely difficult to live with. She and unpleasant Grandmother between them created a toxic atmosphere of tension and discord.

My Mother, as the eldest, had always looked after the rest of the family, and must have herself been missing her husband, back in Fiji, and concerned about her two children. She saw it as her duty now to find a solution to the family stresses. The answer was, to quote an old song, “Getting rid of Gert”.

Aunt Gertrude had always had a desire to visit England and my Mother persuaded her to travel there. This was achieved with the financial help of my extremely generous Uncle Gordon, my Mother’s only surviving brother, who lived in Far North Queensland. He provided a one-way ticket to England and 500 pounds (a large sum in 1936) and off she went, vowing to never see any of them again.

Before she left, Aunt Gertrude on one occasion threatened to take her suitcases and sit in the gutter and explain to the neighbours that she was being thrown out of home. This would have been unbelievably horrifying in that upmarket street, my Mother and Aunt Evelyn were of course horrified, and phoned a family friend to help. (In the 1930s, ladies usually had men available to call on in real crises). Ronald Scott was one such person and he came round to pacify them. They were so stressed that he made them have a glass of brandy each – my Mother said it was the only time in her life she had drunk alcohol.

(Perhaps it was just as well for all concerned that Mike and I were not added in 1935-36

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 15 to the mix at “Mandalay”).

Fortunately, our time at boarding school ended in mid-1937. My Father gave up his work in Fiji and decided to take up again his farm at Hobbys Yards 80km from Bathurst, Central West NSW, and my Mother, Mike and I moved to Bathurst where there were good public schools.

Before we left Melbourne, however, my Mother enrolled in a cookery class at the Swinburne College of Domestic Economy. She had done very little cooking in Fiji – I do not remember any cooked meals from that time, although obviously we must have had some– and believed that she needed to learn. My Father claimed that the only thing she learnt was how to make crab-apple jelly and he called the Swinburne “the Swindle”. Nevertheless, we survived and flourished on her cooking when we settled in Bathurst, although we never got any crab-apple jelly.

16 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 My Extended Family

Sunday, April 24, 2016 School Years at Bathurst and Hobbys Yards 1937-1946 In June 1937 we left Melbourne, my Mother’s family city, and moved to the Bathurst District where my Father took up his farm again at Hobbys Yards. Once again for us, however, it was not the conventional 1930s family pattern of father, mother and two children all living together all the time.

I don’t know if our Father would have been happy for Mike and myself to attend the one- teacher school at Hobbys Yards and leave school at 14 years, as had all our cousins there. My Mother, however, was determined that at whatever cost Mike and I would get a good education. So, my Father lived on his farm in a rough cottage that he called The Humpy, very rough indeed and not very weather-tight, while our Mother, Mike and I lived 80km away in Bathurst so as to be close to schools.

This was an area with many Meek family connections. My Father had lived at the next big town, Orange, managing the Butter Factory from about 1904 until 1909; then he and two brothers took up their adjoining farms at Hobbys Yards, and he lived there for much of the time until he went to Fiji in 1924. In Bathurst, itself, was his cousin Burgo Chapman, retired after 25 years as an educational missionary in China and Japan; Burgo’s brother Keith with an apple orchard at Kelso (now a suburb of Bathurst); and all my Uncle Mort’s in-laws. The best family connection was at Hobbys Yards where Uncle Norman and Aunt Rene had 10 children, aged in 1937 from 14 to 30. They all idolised our Father, who had always taken a close personal interest in them, and therefore were more than ready to accept us. So, Mike and I suddenly found a welcoming extended family of 10 older brothers and sisters.

Earlier, my Grandfather, the Rev B.J. Meek had been the Methodist minister at Bathurst 25 years before, and was still well remembered. (Great Grandfather the Rev Benjamin Chapman had also been a Wesleyan Methodist minister there in 1849-1851, the time of the Gold Rushes. He was shocked at the sinful behaviour of the Bathurst gold miners. His diary, covering his years in the Gambia, West Africa and Australia is in the Mitchell Library).

New extended family. Back: Terry, Father, Uncle Norman, Aunt Rene, Ivy, Clive, Edwin. Front: Nancy, Ray, Arthur, Douglas, Malcolm. Absent: Norman Jr and family, Jack, Nina, Uncle Mort, Aunt Nelly

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 17 My Father used to come into Bathurst every now and then and stay a few days with us, and in the winter stayed for about two months to avoid the freezing Hobbys Yards winter in his ‘humpy.” The farm was on the 1000 metre line so was much colder than Bathurst. In Bathurst, he spent much of his time discussing politics over the back fence with his mate the well-named “Trotsky” Jones.

One winter he decided that his sons should have a cold shower every morning. Mike worked out how to deal with that problem – we turned on the shower, put our arms under it so that it sounded as if it was falling on a body, and shrieked as if we were under freezing water. (Not for nothing was Mike known to the teachers at the High School as the Brainstorm).

214 Keppel St, Bathurst. Built 1840s. renovated 1937, demolished 1975. Now a block of units, one of which Grandson Sam and wife Gemma lived in for a while.

It must have been difficult for a gentle person like our Mother raising two boys largely on her own in Bathurst, especially when one of them was Mike, who didn’t see himself as necessarily having to follow rules and conventions, and certainly didn’t believe that he should do any domestic work or chores.

Back door photo shows Mike on my scooter. It cost nineteen shillings and sixpence ($1.95). I bought it by painfully saving sixpences for months.

The block at Bathurst was large – 73 feet by 330 feet and included a great range of fruit trees, several grape vines, gooseberries, asparagus and fowls. I got interested in gardening and looked after most of it, and made pocket money selling surplus items.

18 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Bathurst Primary School 1876

At our new schools, we probably seemed exotic – not only had we lived in another country, Fiji, but we had also attended school in another State, Victoria (where even the writing script was different). Few Bathurst children had ever lived anywhere except Bathurst and I think none in another country until a girl Jean Wiggers turned up in 1942 at High School as a refugee from New Caledonia, under threat of invasion by Japan.

At school, I was hopeless at sport, and I remember the two sports masters watching me and sadly saying to each other “No ball sense.” I had become quiet and introverted as I grew up and became significantly overweight until I was about 15. I concentrated on school work – in the Leaving Certificate (the forerunner of the HSC) I came equal 12 th in English in NSW and, to the surprise of my teacher, equal 2nd in Latin. I probably was not much fun in my high school days. My school friend, Kevin Piper, said that I changed when I went to University, probably meaning changed for the better.

Methodist Church

Much of our life centred around the Methodist Church. We even played tennis every Saturday on the Church’s courts. Mike had refused to attend Sunday School but became interested later and actually became a teacher there. The Methodist Young Peoples’ Fellowship had debates and discussions on topics like the evils of gambling and alcohol and the comparative values of Christianity and Mohammedanism (now more correctly called Islam).

We had little to do with people who were not Methodists, and there was little social life. On one rare social occasion, I was the escort for Kathy Cole, one of the Methodist “young people” to a painful social evening – the guests sat on chairs round the walls of a room

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 19 and listened to some of them singing or playing the piano for two hours until the welcome relief of supper. Another time my Mother took me to the Glasbys where, similarly, every one sat around the sides of the room. The Glasbys, however, were enthusiast Baptists (Lorraine later became a missionary to Tibet and Olive likewise to the Sudan) and at this party the entertainment was everyone in turn reading a verse from the Bible (it was Matthew chapter 27, about the Crucifixion).

My Mother always found a few people who were in trouble. In Bathurst, she had Miss Moody caring for an aged mother and a paralysed sister; boring verbose Widow Veness across the road whose letters I used to have to take to the post office; Miss Potts in her 80s raising a school age orphaned grandniece and grandnephew; widowed Mrs Ambrose with three young sons; our Latin teacher Miss Keogh (unusually, she was a Catholic, and probably the most simpatico of them) who had a bad time with school discipline. My Mother had become interested in the Society of Friends (the Quakers) and through them found a more interesting intellectual 18 year-old German, Wolfram Kawerau, who was an “enemy alien” restricted to living and working on a chicken farm at Tarana but was allowed to stay overnight with us occasionally. His father had died in a Nazi Concentration Camp in 1936.

Mikes Revenge Another of my Mother’s good works was towards the end of 1938 having Grandma Morrissey for an extended stay. This was both a holiday for Grandma, who had started behaving strangely, and a needed respite for Aunt Evelyn who had to look after her. Grandma displayed no interest in Mike, aged 11 or me, aged 9, and Mike soon recognised her as an enemy. At our age of course we had no idea that she had a problem with her mind and just saw her as unfriendly or uninterested. Mike, however, probably also sensed, or perhaps knew that her “nerves” were the reason we had to go to boarding school. So he ran a campaign of annoying her. This included swapping over the knives and forks before she got to the dining table, which confused her. Then, with me following dutifully, “galumphing” noisily up the hall and banging on her bedroom door. She came out and said: “I’ll report you to your Father.” (little good that would have done her). His most impressive effort, however, was devising an intelligence test and then loudly commenting on the results – “Dad 150, Mum 150, Mike 150, Ben 120 (but add 25% because he is only 9 years old) – but Grandma! She’s only got 40!! How can anyone get so low a score?” She was the only member of our relatives, close and distant, who was not kind to us and interested in our activities, and she made my Mother’s life difficult wherever she could. Perhaps she was soured by her early life, losing her own mother at 16 and having to raise her younger siblings, or by being widowed at age 45 with seven children, or resenting that her daughters got the tertiary education and career opportunities that her generation did not have. Whatever the reason, she was a thoroughly unpleasant woman, unlike the grandmothers of today.

Bathurst was not a particularly intellectual environment, but we had a wide range of books at home and I read most of them. (I found the old copy of The Origin of Species too heavy-going). There was also a regular flow of varied publications: my Father’s monthly political book from the Left Book Club; the literary fortnightly John o’London’s; The Friend, the English Quaker magazine dealing with religion and social issues; The Christian Herald and Signs of Our Times (an evangelical children’s magazine from Mother’s evangelical Aunt Jane Thomas); and the Bulletin (delivered to the farm, but kept all year for us). The town library was also good – the Librarian, Methodist Mr Slade, let me take out even the rather innocuous banned books locked in his safe, like Aldous

20 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Huxley’s “ Brave New World.”

Mother, me, Father, Michael (late 1939)

We all went out to the farm each year for the long school holiday and really enjoyed that. My Father loved farm life and work and made even the menial tasks seem like fun for us – dipping sheep, helping in the shearing shed, harvesting wheat, even when it meant getting up before dawn . Part of the fun was of course that our cousins were there too and they also made work seem like fun most of the time.

Mother and me

One school holiday, however, I spent a less entertaining time regularly “scuffling” a 20- acre paddock of navy beans as part of the War Effort. This meant going up and down the seemingly endless rows of beans with a horse and single-furrow plough which got rid of most the weeds and at the same time cultivated the soil. At the end of January we went back to Bathurst for school, and in mid-February there was an unseasonal heavy frost which killed all my beans. (Just another example of the problems that farmers face all the time). The relaxed and happy activities around the farm were not mirrored by the stresses in the farmhouse.

Christmas at Hobbys Yards 1941 – Aunt Rene’s Campaign In the 1940s, people were inured to unpopular relatives arriving uninvited and Aunt Nell decided late in 1941 to stay with us at the farm for an unspecified period. Aunt Nell was a rather dominating personality and by early December Aunt Rene, never the most mentally stable person, had had enough of her. Tensions were high enough when, on 7 th December, Japan attacked Pearl Harbour and the War in the Pacific started. Five of her sons were in the Army, two in Singapore, where in February they became prisoners of war.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 21 It seemed as if Aunt Nell would be there forever, so Aunt Rene began her campaign. First, Aunt Nell loved her food, and the quality and quantity of food declined, meat got tougher and vegetables even more over-cooked. Aunt Nell perhaps got a little thinner but she stayed on.

Next, Aunt Rene called in the heavy guns. Her eldest son Norman (Junior) had a wife Jean, five children aged one to seven, and, worse, his much-used guitar. They were invited to stay for Christmas and the school holidays. So “Lindfield” became crowded and noisy with hillbilly and western music. The family dining table which was big enough when their eleven children were still at home had to be supplemented to fit everyone.

Even that did not work and the final, unkind blow was given. Cousin Nancy was due to be married at the house on 31 January and Aunt Nell did not get an invitation to the wedding. Obviously an uninvited guest could not stay. My Mother finally resolved the problem. She said we could not attend the wedding and must return to Bathurst and brought Aunt Nell to stay with us.

P.S. Cousin Nancy, always one to push the boundaries, brought a case of champagne for the wedding celebrations. Uncle Norman, an even greater hater of alcohol than the rest of the Methodists and a financial supporter of “temperance” groups, told cousins Terry and Malcolm to bury the filthy stuff in a remote part of the farm (I assume they emptied it first).

Although World War 2 had started in 1939, it did not begin to impinge noticeably on our ordinary daily lives until 1942, after the Japanese advances from December 1941 which were the backdrop to the story of Aunt Rene’s Campaign.

World War 2 The War started in September 1939, when I was 10 and became serious when the Japanese advance began in December 1941. At school we dug trenches in the granite soil, hardened by several years of drought, against air attacks – after they were dug the Commandant of the local military camp inspected them and said they were dug at the wrong angles and would be dangerous if there was an attack. Fortunately they were never used except for practice so those trenches got covered over with weeds in due course and filled with water. One evening an amorous couple fell in – one of them got a broken leg.

Many items became almost unprocurable, such as chocolate and tobacco (not a problem for Methodists). If you asked in a shop for something they didn’t have, cruder shop assistants would snarl: “Don’t you know there’s a war on?” As missionaries, my parents were used to living economically, even frugally, so that was not a problem for them.

There was rationing of meat, clothing, sugar, butter and petrol (not many people had cars anyway). Aunt Evelyn offered one helpful economy with used tea leaves – dry them and mix with equal amounts of fresh tea. The result was unappetising. The same went for the lucerne and the fat hen weed that my Father decided would be a good alternative to regular vegetables.

There were many Government controls – even odd ones like bans on icing on bought cakes and cuffs on men’s trousers. Childless women like Mrs Bowers next door were drafted to work at the local munitions factory; people with spare rooms were encouraged

22 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 to take in boarders; people with more than 10 fowls or turkeys had to register and sell any surplus through the Egg Board.

Our upright Methodist cousin Keith Chapman fell foul of the Apple and Pear Board (he called it the Grapple and Despair Board). He was caught and fined for selling his apples door-to-door instead of via the Board. Probably the first and only time any of my respectable relatives has been in trouble with the Law.

The War brought change and a heightened awareness in politics. The Communist Party had been banned in Australia in 1939 but after the USSR (“Russia”) was attacked by Germany in 1941, Russia became our ally and the ban ended. As the war went on, people became increasingly interested in making a better society for the future, so there was much discussion of politics and social issues at school and at home, and even at the Methodist Church.

My cousin Douglas who died as a prisoner of war at Ranau in Borneo, 18 March 1945

The war also brought big changes to the farm. Cousins Nina and Nancy married early in 1942 and left. Five of my male cousins joined the Army so there was a constant background worry about them. This was particularly so for Jack and Douglas who were in Singapore and became prisoners of war of the Japanese in February, 1942. Nothing at all was heard of them for 3½ years, when the war ended. (Jack survived Changi Prison and Japanese coal mines. Douglas died at Ranau in Borneo on the 18 March, 1945 on the infamous Sandakan death marches, where only six men survived of the 2000 imprisoned there.)

This meant there were only two young cousins, Terry and Malcolm, both rejected by the Army, to help my ageing Father (60 in 1942) and his two brothers (Uncles Norman and Mort) in running the three farms. Those times up to 1946 were drought years which also made things harder than usual.

My Father was surprised once to get a call-up notice to attend the local recruitment centre and join the armed forces. He was excused, however, on several grounds – he was aged over 60; had children at school; and was in what was known as a “reserved occupation” in this case farming.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 23 The war ended in September, 1945. Jack came back from the war and bought my Father’s farm – the proceeds would have given them a reasonably comfortable retirement, except for the inflation of the 1950s which heavily reduced the value of money. I finished school at the end of 1945 and went on to University. My parents decided to live for a time in Melbourne, and another new stage of life began for us all.

24 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Changing World Views

Thursday, April 28, 2016 The University of Sydney 1946-1950 The University of Sydney in March, 1946 was an exciting and liberating place, full of intellectual ferment and new ideas, especially exciting for an unsophisticated 17 year-old from a small country town, heavily influenced by Methodism and Quakerism.

The War in which 50,000,000 people died had just ended (in August, 1945). The Nazi’s murder of 6,000,000 Jews and the death of 8,000 Australian prisoners of war of the Japanese were two recently discovered horrors of this conflict in which 50,000,000 people died. Two atom bombs had killed many thousands at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. There was a general feeling that the world had to change and a feeling of optimism that the world could and must become better, nowhere more so than at the University of Sydney.

There was plenty that needed to change – great inequality in Australia; inadequate social services; Aborigines were repressed and excluded from society and were not even counted in the Census; heavy censorship of books (even James Joyce’s Ulysses was banned unless the Professor of English confirmed that you were a bona fide student of literature); attitudes to sex were puritanical; above all, the economic and political system which had led to the Great Depression of the 1930s and two appalling world wars in the previous 30 years (1914-18 and 1939-45).

The University was overcrowded – 4,500 students in 1945 had become 8,000 in 1946 with no extra accommodation for them. For Psychology I, we had to get to the lecture room well ahead of time or else sit on the floor in the aisles. (There was no WH&S in those days.) The academic staff were overworked and there were no real tutorials, so the students were mostly on their own.

One part of the overcrowding was the thousands of ex-service men and women under the Labor Government’s generous scheme for education and retraining. Their life experience and maturity enriched the place greatly (as did mature age enrolment schemes decades later). The other part was the great increase in the number of Government bursaries and allowances for school leavers.

SCM and the Quakers The main purpose of the University was to study – for me it was History, English, Psychology and Anthropology – but in addition, being extremely pious at that time, I immediately got involved with two religious groups, the Student Christian Movement (SCM) and the Society of Friends (the Quakers).

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 25 Student Christian Movement pamphlet

In those days, the SCM was a major force in Australian Universities. It was concerned with social issues, and once even had a joint live-in conference with the left-wing Labour Club. We did things like studying the relevance of various books of the Bible to current problems; doing “good works” such as cleaning up a garden for a stressed clergyman and helping at the University Settlement. The Settlement was down in Chippendale, then part of the underprivileged area of Sydney known as the slums. Some of the children there were so restricted in opportunity that they had never even seen the Sydney Harbour Bridge, only about seven kilometres away by tram. All this made us feel good and worthy.

Society of Friends Meeting House

I was always influenced by my Mother. She had found a more suitable religious home with the Society of Friends, also known as the Quakers and inevitably I did likewise. They had no organised ritual or clergy and met each Sunday in Surry Hills (also then the slums) for a meeting which was silent until anyone was inspired to speak – rather like meditation today. Also, a group of younger people met each month for discussions at the

26 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 home of Max Wohlwill, an intellectual industrial chemist migrant from Germany. (I recently discovered he was on Hitler’s suspect list.) Many of the Friends, or Quakers, were social workers, teachers or academics, interested in new ideas in education, medicine and politics. Some of the group had been conscientious objectors in the war, and had experiences ranging from directed work to gaol sentences.

New Friends and New Ideas Importantly, in my second year at University (1947) I met up with a group of students, many of them the Canberra High School leaving certificate class of 1945 who I found particularly appealing. They were interested in social issues, like the SCM and the Quakers but were also witty and entertaining and got a lot of enjoyment out of life but were not religious believers. They included three people who became close friends: Neill Hope, John Caldwell and Mel Woods.

Neill Hope (known as Sope) became one of the significant characters in that amorphous group known as the Sydney Push, which advocated free love and libertarianism; moved to Italy and established an English teaching school in Turin, and died in a motorbike accident aged about 35.

John Caldwell (Caldy) later Professor of Demography at ANU and, with his wife Pat, had a world reputation in family planning as well as demography.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 27 Mel Woods, even at age 19, was more heavily involved in real good works than any of the SCM people. He later set up the first modern language laboratory in Sydney; more importantly, he married Liz Shakespeare in 1954 and introduced me to her sister Margaret, which then led to a great change in my future life.

My 15 Minutes of Fame

The Tribune, Friday, August 1, 1947

Ben Meek, 5th from the left, holding placard “STUDENTS PROTEST AGAINST DUTCH

28 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 AGGRESSION”

On 25 July 1947 I had a brief moment of fame appearing on the front page of “The Tribune” (the Communist Party newspaper) in coat and tie, carrying a placard. This protest turned into a rather violent riot and became famous, the anniversary being celebrated in August for many years as the high point of student activism. I should note that, having always disliked violence both in theory and practice, I managed to get out of the way when the violence began.

Out of all the intellectual, social and cultural excitement of the University and all these connections came great changes to my view of life. It is hard to be sure at a distance of 70 years how all this happened but it led to the strengthening of some of my earlier views and abandonment of others.

In particular, I lost interest in the Student Christian Movement and the Quakers. I had never had the kind of religious or transcendental experience that some people have, and I do not recall ever having a problem for which I sought divine help. Perhaps I never had any really worrying problems or had internalised them. Further, my earlier religious views did not stand up to the intellectual consideration they got in the university atmosphere, and at some point I found that I no longer believed in a kind and concerned God, or indeed any kind of God.

In the family in which I had grown up, religion and ethics were the most important part of life, and there was no room for half-hearted beliefs, so I became an atheist. I still agreed with the Quakers’ views and actions on social issues and their belief that there was good in everyone. The social and economic objectives of Communism, with which they had much in common, had considerable appeal for me but I did not get involved with the Communist Party as did some of my friends. I had already enthusiastically followed two belief systems and I think I was not ready to embrace a new cause. With no internet or google, we did not know how monstrous Stalin was and how he had perverted the basic ideas of Communism. To be honest in retrospect, I probably did not want the effort and difficulty that this would have entailed and had also probably decided that life need not be all seriousness.

This was just as well for my future – in the 1950s if you belonged to the Communist Party of Australia, or were suspected of similar views, you would be denied entry into the Commonwealth Public Service.

Changing Family Life For the first 2 ½ years I stayed at the Methodist institution Wesley College, as our Mother was determined that we should be well looked after. (I think she was haunted by the fact that her three youngest siblings had died of tuberculosis as young adults.) My brother Mike and I both had generous scholarships (from the Commonwealth Financial Assistance Scheme) but they did not cover all the Wesley costs. There were maids to make the beds and clean the rooms, formal dinner each night in black gowns, and compulsory daily 8 a.m. chapel for “freshers” (first year students).

My parents had moved to Melbourne for a few years in 1946 and I spent nearly all the University holidays there. Religion was of central importance to most of the Morrisseys and this added yet another dimension to the discussions on ethics, politics, religion and society. Our cousins there, John, Jim and Anne Morrissey, were Catholics of varying

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 29 degrees of enthusiasm, so there was much discussion, Jim in particular being strongly Catholic and very conservative politically. Jim’s virulent contempt for mainstream Protestantism provided some balance to Aunt Evelyn’s equally virulent hatred of Catholicism. (Her bigotry made life difficult for Anne, with her parents far away in North Queensland and attending a Catholic school in Melbourne.) I saw Jim in 2002 just before he died and he reminded me that back in the late 1940s I had explained to him that belief in life after death was an illusion for people whose lives on earth were not happy ones, and he said:- “If we meet again, I’ll be able to tell you that you were wrong.”

Parent’s house at Horton St, Bass Hill (later renamed Yagoona) 1948-

In August 1948 my parents moved to Sydney – they had never had any interest in money, and with declining resources, a house in then remote Bass Hill was all they could afford. I went back to living at home. By this time, my Father was extremely deaf, the result of an incompetent dentist in Suva, Mr Snodgrass, who had left a piece of tooth behind. Although he was almost unable to hear anything, he remained cheerful and optimistic always. My Mother was ageing but got heavily involved with the Sydney Quakers, continued to write regularly to the pacifist newspaper, maintained a close interest in current affairs and politics, and related well to the various student friends I brought home.

In 1951, having graduated with a BA and a not very impressive 2 nd Class Honours in History and a Diploma in Education, I went out for the first time into the real wide world as a teacher at Binnaway Central School.

30 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Teaching at Binnaway

Friday, May 06, 2016 1951-1953 Binnaway was a small village, census population 761, and a railway junction with workshops for the steam trains of the time. All the train lines are long since gone, and Binnaway has now halved in population but in 1951 it was a busy railway junction with workshops. Three days a week about noon the Mudgee Mail train arrived from Sydney after an overnight trip, leaving Sydney Central Station at 10.47 pm. It continued, as a diesel railmotor, north to Coonabarabran and the railhead at Gwabegar, and other trains connected to Dubbo in the west and to Cassilis on the main northern line.

I lived in the down-market Exchange Hotel, which was an education in itself with a changing population and a source of anecdotes for my Sydney friends. There were usually five or six permanent residents (myself, the manager of the Co-op Store, the railway roster clerk, an English “remittance man”, etc.) plus transients of all kinds. The transients included a sad travelling dentist who came regularly with his portable equipment and I think never had a customer. A regular annual visitor was a shearer who would arrive in his T-model Ford, give his year’s pay cheque to the publican Frank Sheehan, sleep on straw in the sheds at the back, and spend the day drinking in the bar till Frank thought the cheque was all spent. I had decided that I would not drink alcohol in the town where I was teaching and also avoid local social life, so the Hotel residents were the main part of my social life, such as it was.

I also declined an offer to join the small local branch of the Communist party as a secret member. So, I had plenty of time and energy to concentrate on my students; they were entertaining and rewarding and they coped well with being practised on by a new teacher who had not learned a great deal from my one-year Diploma in Education course.

1952 Binnaway 1st Year

In my first year at Binnaway in 1951 there were six teachers at the school and only five classrooms, so, as last in, I taught First Year (now called Year 7) in the kitchen of the Buffalos Hall. (The Buffalos were a men’s society who met on Sunday nights for drinking and fellowship. Once or twice on Monday we had to remove a hung-over and sleeping Buffalo from the kitchen before lessons could start.)

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 31 The other teachers included: 1) Les Michell, Headmaster, who did very little as he had got his promotion to the next level and was waiting for the next level school. (2) Jim Foster, aged 25, who admitted that he disliked children but ended as Headmaster of a top school and as an Inspector. He married a local girl and got advice from the doctor how to avoid having children. (Eventually he and Irma had four children of whom he was very proud) (3) Lester Sullivan, a bit older, had married another local girl, hated teaching and left in 1953 to manage the Binnaway sawmill. (4) Pat Simpson also left in 1953 and joined the Army. (5) Lillian Lowrey married a local and stayed teaching there for ever.

I taught all the secondary school subjects, including Maths (not very well) and later also a new primary school subject, Civics and Morals, about good people such as Grace Darling and the gentle Buddha. One of the primary students later became the State Member of Parliament for Wollongong – Gerry Sullivan, who was not a great success. He fell asleep and missed an important division in Parliament when the Labor Government had a majority of one, so he didn’t get a second term.

Teachers in those days were treated with considerable respect and were also in demand for jobs requiring some skills. I was a poll clerk every time there was a local State or Federal election – on one occasion Fred Easey, who ran the outlying polling station at Mooren came in and said “I’ve got the polling box in the car but here are the votes in my pocket”. There were 12 of them, all for the Country Party candidate.

I was also a track steward for the Picnic Races. That was an entertainment. We disqualified one entrant caught pouring a bottle of whiskey down his horse’s throat. We then had to also disqualify the leaders in the last race as the two jockeys starting whipping each other instead of the horses.

Fifty Years Later I only stayed at Binnaway for a few years but there was a surprising sequel more than half a century later. In 2003, one of the students, John Beasley, who had become in turn a teacher, airline pilot and then a painter, looked through his old school photos and painted portraits of some of the students. John was something of an obsessive and he finally painted each of the 86 secondary level students from the 1950s, plus some of the teachers. The result was a reunion and portrait exhibition at Binnaway in March, 2003.

32 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 2003 Portrait by John Beasley

The exhibition was a great success (my portrait is preserved in a frame.) It was fascinating to find what had happened in the intervening half-century to what John Beasley called the “frozen teenagers” many of them now grandparents. This led to other reunions at two-yearly levels until as recently as 2013 and I still connect via Facebook with two of my ex-students from the early 1950s.

Rescuing Hands I was a keen trade-unionist and in fact I set up a branch of the NSW Teachers Federation at Binnaway. In the early 1950s there was much ferment in the industrial scene and the effective President of the Teachers Federation, Sam Lewis, who was a Communist, was rolled by a conservative, Harry Heath. We all reviled him but he was rewarded with a seat on the Senate of the University of NSW (UNSW). An odd reminder of the past came in 1972. The UNSW Senators were attending a graduation ceremony at Wollongong University College which was then a colony of UNSW. The senators, many elderly, were on a raised platform and at the end of the ceremony had to walk down some steps which had no railings. Ian Lowe and I were on either side to steady them. One of them tottered as he came down and I instinctively reached out to save him; I looked and saw that it was the reviled Harry Heath from 20 years before and just as instinctively I pulled my rescuing hands back. Fortunately for Harry Heath, Ian Lowe also instinctively saved him from falling.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 33 The Commonwealth Public Service

Monday, May 09, 2016 Canberra 1953 I always seemed to be fortunate in having people who looked after my interests. On this occasion my friends John and Pat “Caldy” Caldwell had decided that I was rusticating at Binnaway and needed to be got back to civilisation. They were renting a farmhouse at Sutton, a few kilometres outside Canberra, and Caldy was teaching in the large secondary section of Telopea Park Central School. He wrote and said there were six vacancies for English/history teachers at the school and I should apply for a post there, and that I could live with them on the farmhouse. So I moved there in May 1953.

It was great being in a lively city like Canberra where I had numbers of friends. On the other hand, I soon found out why there had been so many teaching vacancies at Telopea Park Central School. Two-thirds of the students who finished primary schooling in Canberra went on to Canberra High School; the unsuccessful one-third who went on to Telopea Park were keenly aware that they were regarded in Canberra as losers. Both Caldy and I soon decided that we did not want to spend our lives teaching classes like 2TB (Year 7, technical, lower achievers) and we both joined the Commonwealth Public Service in September 1953.

Again I was fortunate. I was posted to the Department of Territories, a place full of interest, where the Minister, Paul Hasluck, was shaking up activity.

(Caldy on the other hand found himself checking figures in the Department of the Treasury. When we got home on the first day, he went for a long walk over the paddocks with his wife, came back and said: “The Public Service is even worse than Telopea Park and I’m going back to teaching.” He ended up as Professor of Demography at the Australian National University.)

An Energetic Minister The early 1950s was a significant time for our territories and for the Aboriginal people. The Liberal Government, with Menzies in his record long term as Prime Minister (1949- 1966) had little interest in our Territories or the Aboriginal people, but the Minister for Territories, Paul Hasluck did.

Hasluck had grown up in a Salvation Army family and, although he had given up the religion he maintained a strong social conscience and a feeling of duty to the needy and neglected. He also had determination and persistence. These badly-needed qualities kept him sticking for a record time as Minister for Territories (1951-1963) even though, as he said, this killed his political career.

He particularly recognised how badly the Aboriginal people were treated. The official policy of Aboriginal assimilation is now seen as outmoded but in those racist days it was a massive advance on previous neglect and ill-treatment and helped focus public attention on the need for action. Better health services and education gave some Aboriginal people a chance of advancement. Hasluck much later pointed out that even his Aboriginal critics now recognised that his work had given them the skills to be able to vocally criticise him.

34 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 In Papua New Guinea he fought vigorously and alone for funds for economic development, education and political progress, against the indifference of his fellow parliamentarians and the hostility of many of the Australians living comfortable and profitable lives there.

‘Welfare and Social Advancement’ My job was in the optimistically named Welfare and Social Advancement Branch and I was mostly involved in the education part of it. When I joined, all eight members of the Branch were males; when Jeremy Long went off to become a patrol officer in the Northern Territory he was replaced by a young female graduate, Margot Budd. She had a bad time, as our boss Dudley McCarthy did not believe in women in the office. (Margot later married the Deputy Prime Minister, Doug Anthony and Dudley McCarthy became a senior diplomat and ultimately an Ambassador to Mexico – I hope she was polite to him then.)

It might be noted in passing that women, other than unmarried typists and stenographers, were rare in the Commonwealth Public Service then. Women were paid only a fraction of men for the same job and had to resign if they married. Being a member of the Communist Party also meant automatic exclusion from the Public Service, likewise, but more subtly, being homosexual.

South Pacific Commission 18th Session, Anse Vata, New Caledonia. Not a happy lot. Ben against the pillar with what turned out to be malaria.

Most public service work is routine and not intrinsically interesting (like most jobs) but I soon had interesting projects and trips to the territories: in 1954 six weeks on Nauru with E.P. Eltham, an old public servant who was advising the Nauru administration on technical training; a long visit to Papua New Guinea; a trip to New Caledonia as adviser to the South Pacific Commission; even a week’s tour of Queensland Aboriginal stations with our formidable Minister, Paul Hasluck (he was later Governor-General).

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 35 Ben empire building on Nauru, September, 1954

Soon after I married (more on this later), I had three months in Darwin, accompanied by my wife Marg, to “assist” the new Department of Welfare (previously titled Department of Native Affairs). That also included three weeks on the isolated Government Settlement on Melville Island where we experienced real Aboriginal life.

I had been fortunate again – many years later, my immediate boss, Dudley McCarthy told me that he had plans to promote me towards eventually being head of the Department, which explains those interesting and varied projects.

Meanwhile, enough about work. My life was about to make a complete change.

36 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 A Fortunate Meeting

Tuesday, May 10, 2016 Canberra Personal 1953-1956 My friend from University, Mel Woods, had become engaged to Elizabeth Shakespeare (another of that Leaving Certificate class of 1945). Mel was worried about another friend, John Zwar, who had become involved with a girl Heather X (X means I have forgotten) who Mel thought was not suitable for his friend. So, being a concerned friend and also something of a manipulator he took action.

The plan was a day in the snow at Mt Kosciusko (accessible for a day from Canberra if you left before dawn). He explained to me that his fiancée Liz had a very attractive sister named Margaret who was coming. She was to entice John Zwar away from the undesired Heather, and I was to entice the undesired Heather away from John. (I cannot remember if he had a further plan to extricate me later from the unwanted Heather.)

Margaret Shakespeare

We had a very pleasant day in the snow at Kosciusko but it did not work out the way Mel had planned it. As it happened, I managed to entice his prospective sister-in-law Marg away from any interest in John; John later married Heather and divorced after a few unhappy years, while Marg and I got married and lived happily ever after.

There was some delay before that happened. Marg was still living in Sydney in her last year of general nursing training, and her family in Canberra were preparing for Liz and Mel’s wedding which occurred in January 1954. Then the next month the Shakespeare family suffered a heavy blow – there was an epidemic of poliomyelitis and Marg’s younger sister Judy, who was nursing a polio patient, caught polio herself and died, aged only 21.

In Sydney, my Mother had not been well for some time, and this was found to be cancer, so I spent a lot of time seeing my parents until her death in June, 1954.

So, Marg and I did not make contact again until later in 1954, by which time she was in Canberra doing the one-year midwifery training. In those days, men usually proposed formally to their intended brides. So I did so. Marg said it was sudden, as indeed it was, but fortunately said yes. I had taken her for a drive to a nearby town called Yass, which I

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 37 thought conducive to a ‘yess’ answer.

I was about to go to Nauru for work for a few weeks so we decided not to inform anyone till my return. While away in the Pacific, however, I posted Marg a coconut with a Nauru postage stamp on it, which intrigued the relations and neighbours. (Quarantine was not strict in those times.) The relations and neighbours were even more intrigued when I sent her a radiogram (in 1954 that had two meanings – either a telegram sent from overseas, or a large record-playing machine – I sent the first).

Marg and Ben, Yarralumla ACT

23 Hutchins St, Yarralumla ACT

Housing was almost impossible to find in Canberra in 1954 (married or formally engaged couples after two or three years on a waiting list would be offered a government house to rent). Fortunately Marg’s father found that rarity in Canberra in those days, a non- government house available for rent. It had been maltreated and partly burnt by previous tenants and we got it cheaply (three pounds a week) on condition we cleaned it up. So I moved in immediately, and we advanced our wedding date to 19 February 1955, oblivious to the possible interpretations in those days of staying respectable.

The Wedding The wedding was at St Columba’s Church in Braddon, ACT (that building, recently repainted, is now the Church’s Shakespeare Centre) and the reception was at the Hotel Canberra (now the Hyatt).

38 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Mr. and Mrs. Ben Meek with best man Jim Morrissey (the bridegroom’s cousin) and bridesmaid, Heather Somerlad

All went well except my cousin Jim was the best man and got very drunk – commending the bridesmaid for wearing green and white, which were the colours of the jockey on the Flemington favourite that afternoon; toasting the clergyman, the Rev. Mr Pordage, with “For he’s a jolly holy fellow”; and then dropping and smashing Mr Pordage’s wedding gift vase. Many years later, Heather told us Mr Pordage’s sermon the next day was a description of those events and a homily on the evils of alcohol.

Mel had decided that we should not have confetti all over our car on departure so borrowed a get-away car for us from Eveline Davidson an unmarried Quaker friend who Mel also knew well from mutual good works with disabled children. She said her other acquaintances were amused as bits of confetti kept appearing in her car for years. Marg and I doubled back to our house to swap back to my car and spend some time with my Father and cousins Jack and Terry who were staying there. This foiled a plan of one of the wedding guests, Frank Keane. He was the Stipendiary Magistrate and had positioned a posse of police out on the Highway to stop our car and demand Marg’s licence. We were so late that they gave up waiting.

Marg and young patients at Bagot Aboriginal Hospital, Darwin

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 39 Ben with locals at Snake Bay, Melville Island, part of the Northern Territory

A few months later, we had three months in the Northern Territory – I worked in the office of the new Welfare Branch, starting the then policy of assimilation for Aboriginal People, now discredited, but a major step forward from previous neglect and discrimination. Marg had more interesting work in the Aboriginal Hospital at Bagot. The best time however was three weeks for us both working on the Aboriginal Settlement of Snake Bay on Melville Island (see also The Commonwealth Public Service).

40 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 New Beginnings (and a Russian Spy)

Saturday, May 14, 2016 Home Life 1956-1966

The next big event was back in Canberra. On the afternoon of 25 February, 1956, there was a clap of thunder out of a clear sky and Marg immediately went into labour. Much later, at 8 am on 27 February, Linda was born. She was particularly welcomed and treasured, as she was the first grandchild on both sides of the family. The next ten years were dominated by domestic life, especially as the family grew: Simon 1958; Jamie 1961; and Kate 1963.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 41 1963 Family complete with the birth of Kate

Marg’s sister Liz had her children Lissa, Rowan and Sarah, born conveniently in the intervals in 1957, 1959 and 1962 so there was much baby minding and sharing of bassinets, cots and prams, and interaction between the cousins.

9 Wild St, Narrabundah ACT

Marg, Linda and I moved house towards the end of 1957 to a government house at 9 Wild Street, Narrabundah. For about five months in 1961 we all moved into the Shakespeares’ house in Reid while they were overseas.

21 Elliott Pl, Campbell ACT

At the end of 1961 we moved to the three bedroomed house we had built at 21 Elliott Place, Campbell, where we stayed until we went to Port Moresby in March, 1966.

42 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Lissa, Linda and Rowan in the “squealing room”

Linda and Simon enjoyed the previous months as we looked at other houses under construction to get ideas (building sites were not kept fenced off in those days). At each site they designated one room as the “squealing room” where they were allowed to make as much noise as they liked.

(We rented the Elliott Place house out when we left Canberra for Papua New Guinea and sold it in about 1968. Like so many older Canberra houses it is now a heavily extended five bedroomed house.

Russian Spy Life in Elliott Place was quiet and suburban, with a little colour provided occasionally by the ASIO man, Max Phillips, who lived four doors away. Once Max came to a big afternoon party at our house. We had to answer the phone regularly through the afternoon as ASIO was running a training exercise and they kept calling for “Mr Robinson” alias Max Phillips. One of Max’s duties was to keep a watch on several houses in Elliott Street occupied by Russian Embassy staff. One of them, Ivan Skripov, had a Siamese cat which was the father of some of our kittens. One night, while I was working for The Canberra Times, Max phoned and said : “When you put the garbage out tonight, proceed down to the third gum tree in the park.” I duly did so, and under the third gum tree was Max with a scoop for The Canberra Times – Ivan Skripov had been caught spying and was being immediately sent home to Russia. That was the nearest I ever got to the undercover world of counter-espionage.

Daily Life Schooling soon became an important part of our lives.

• Linda started preschool at Griffith, then Campbell Infants and Primary. • Simon went to Reid Pre-school, then also to Campbell Infants. • Jamie went to the new temporary preschool in Savige Place and had a few weeks at Campbell Infants before we moved to Port Moresby in March, 1966. The first Campbell Preschool was partly a community effort. The Government policy was for a preschool for every suburb, and Campbell, to a large extent being filled by reluctant transferees from the Defence Department in Melbourne, was missing out and protesting. The Department offered us temporary use of a four-bedroom government house in Savige Place if we could raise 500 pounds for equipment. We did this quickly and it got started. We thought the Department was generous. Marg and I discovered recently (April 2016) on a National Trust walk around Campbell that the Department actually had

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 43 houses in Savige Place that they could not sell.

Life was punctuated with holidays to places like Bermagui, Manly and Surfers Paradise and with trips to Sydney to see Marg’s sister Liz and her family and my Father and Aunt Nell. Aunt Nell had come to Sydney and lived with my Father when my Mother died in 1954 and took a great interest in our children. She saw the world and its people as either black or white, and fortunately saw us as white. Linda later said how interminable those car trips seemed on the old narrow highway from Canberra to Sydney.

Aunt Evelyn in Melbourne also maintained a close interest in all the children and we stayed with her several times. She and Linda developed a special relationship and Linda also found a path to Aunt Gertrude’s affections.

The children were of course a great interest for Marg’s Mother, and to the surprise of some, her somewhat formidable Father became an enthusiastic and interested grandfather.

Winter,1964 – Canberra had its first real snowfall in many years

44 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Changes There were big changes in the family, however, as Marg’s mother had been unwell for some time and died in October 1961, just before we moved to Campbell. In Sydney Aunt Nell had a stroke and other health problems and in due course went to a nursing home. My father stayed on living alone until he was 86 and then went to the W G Taylor Home at Narrabeen. In January, 1963, Marg’s father married Heather Cameron and moved into her house in Elliott Street, just across the park from ours in Elliott Place.

Life was also punctuated for me with work trips away from Canberra. Returning once, when Linda was about two, she asked who is that? On another occasion, in 1959-60, I returned with an attack of malaria; the doctor told Marg that the survival rate was about 50%. A bigger change came in 1960 when I joined the Canberra Times as assistant manager, which meant a lot less family time for me.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 45 Assassinated President and Princess Margaret’s baby

Tuesday, May 17, 2016 Canberra Times – May 1960 to August 1964 While home life was moderately quiet and relaxed, this was not the same for my next change of job. I had started an Economics degree in 1959 – presumably I was looking forward to a working life in the Commonwealth Public Service and an economics degree was at that time the path towards advancement. To the surprise of many people, myself included, I earned an honours in Accountancy I.

That was another of the fortunate occurrences in my life. It probably made my father-in- law Arthur think I would be useful in the Canberra Times and so offer me a job as assistant manager. Much as I enjoyed and was involved in the Department of Territories, this seemed an interesting challenge and I took it up after much consideration. Marg’s Mother, who had had to put up with a newspaper man as husband thought it was a thoroughly bad idea.

It certainly was a change from the measured pace of the Public Service. The Canberra Times was run on a kind of chaotic efficiency. Arthur’s desk was thick with papers. Some, like the affairs of his father who had died 22 years before, were really old, but Arthur could always find what he wanted in the chaos. The office filing systems were rudimentary, even the ‘morgue’, where copies of old editions were kept and which Marg and her sisters had slaved to keep tidy during school holidays, was now a mess. Somehow, however, the paper always came out, nearly always on time, circulation was increasing even faster than the population of Canberra, and after many hard years it was now a very profitable enterprise.

The Canberra Times had had a real struggle to survive during the 1920s and the Depression, and the shortages of wartime, and these struggles had left their mark in the form of many economies. All the office space was very crowded. There were never quite enough printing staff. On Canberra winter nights, the place was freezing – the editorial staff had only two small foot-warmers to take a bit of the chill off.

Proud Tasmanians showing visiting Country Press group how they were removing trees and building more dams (1962).

46 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Although still classed as a provincial newspaper, The Canberra Times was well regarded nationally as a source of accurate and valuable news and comment.

Scoops and Misprints We had one impressive scoop while I was there. One night, 23 November, 1963, our home phone rang at 3.30 am. It was the editor, David Bowman:“Something interesting has happened – John F Kennedy (the President of the USA) has been assassinated.” The paper had ‘gone to bed’ (i.e. it was being printed) but there were a couple of journalists still there and some compositors playing cards after their shift, and the printers, so with their help, we produced a special edition which was the first in Australia to print that dramatic event.

Less impressive were the regular misprints – an acquaintance, Geoff Dawson, even published a book of Canberra Times misprints in the 1960s. One memorable misprint while I was there was: “X, (I forget his name) will no longer be the best man at Princess Margaret’s wedding as his wife is expecting a baby at the same time as Princess Margaret’s.” (A careless or perhaps enterprising compositor had left off the next word “wedding”.)

Arthur could not bear to pay staff any more than award rates, so staff were always leaving to go to the Government Printer or the Press Gallery. (On the other hand, he could be very generous to staff who were in trouble). Arthur had developed a rather formidable style. One hard-bitten sports journalist, Neville Prendergast, had worked at The Canberra Times and wrote: “AT (he was known by his initials) was a brilliant man with a marvellous command of the English language and he frightened the life out of me. .. I held him in absolute awe.”

Arthur held no one in awe and didn’t mind offending people if they deserved it. On one occasion during World War 2, he put on the front page of The Canberra Times two lists – one was the King’s Birthday Honours, the other was a list of the deaths of soldiers in the current African campaign – and inside was an editorial castigating the comfortable desk- bound public servants for accepting honours while others were dying for their country. When I told the editor Ray Walker about this he said:“Those public servants are now heads of departments, and that explains why he never got a knighthood.”

Strike Breaker I had never expected to be a strike breaker but in about August 1961 The Canberra Times had a four-day strike.

I forget the reason, possibly dismissal of a proof-reader had made some mistakes that had serious consequences. We always had trouble getting enough printing staff and we had imported some very enthusiastically left-wing British printers and one similar from South Africa. It was shortly after Marg’s father had returned from five months overseas and perhaps he had increased the tension, as he was not one to be placatory.

So, the printers and, in sympathy, the journalists went on strike but in the public interest, newspapers have to make every effort to publish. Instead of the usual 90 staff, what was available were the management (Arthur, Uncle Jack, myself), three or four apprentices (under their indentures, apprentices are not allowed to strike) and the engraving department (three men who made the plates for pictures).

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 47 It was an extraordinary effort to get the paper out and it showed the remarkable capacity of the Shakespeares to survive, as they had done over many hard years in the paper’s history. Arthur did the whole of the journalists’ work, Uncle Jack supervised the apprentices and single-handedly produced all the type off the Intertype machines, (this is now done with computers but in 1961 these machines produced type in hot metal) I did all the proof-reading (very inefficiently – I would have been sacked if it was my normal job).

So The Canberra Times still came out, and on time, and with most of the news. There was rather more pictorial content than usual, thanks to the engravers being still at work. Arthur was proud that the material on the ‘spike’ had not been used (the spike was a collection of articles of general interest that could be used if there was a shortage of material to fill an edition).

After four days the staff returned to work, unsuccessful in their claim. One consequence was that Arthur, normally generous and helpful to the staff, decided that the strikers would not get a Christmas bonus that year.

Another consequence was that I started smoking again. I had reformed about two years before but about 3 a.m. one morning someone offered me a cigarette and I was so tired that I had forgotten that I was now a non-smoker. It took till 1980 for me to permanently give up that stupid habit.

NSW Country Press Conference delegates – photographers look for the best-looking wives

One area of the paper was always tidy – Heather Cameron, the Company Secretary, ensured there was no chaos in her area. She kept a careful eye out for extravagance from her cupboard-like office and supervised the front counter. Female staff were checked to ensure they did not wear too much make-up. One unfortunate young girl from a migrant family was instructed to change her diet as she smelt of garlic. I thought Heather wore rather dowdy clothes at work and was surprised later to find she was one of the best customers of the then upmarket Millers of Manuka.

Staff housing was a substantial part of my job, as Canberra had a continuing housing shortage and we could not get new staff unless we had accommodation for them. By 1964 we had about 40 houses to maintain. When John Fairfax Ltd (the proprietors of the Sydney Morning Herald) bought the paper, and greatly expanded the staff, I took their Company Secretary, Mr Faulkingham, on a one-day tour of possible houses and he

48 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 bought a further 50 on the day.

Outsmarting Murdoch By 1960, Canberra was growing fast and the big metropolitan newspaper owners (Packer, Murdoch and Fairfax) were casting their eyes on it, and Arthur was very conscious that he would not be able to match their resources if any of them started a newspaper in Canberra. In particular, the young Rupert Murdoch was showing an interest and he asked to see the Canberra Times printery so one Sunday morning, I showed him around. One of our economies was not to clean up after the Saturday edition (It was cheaper for the cleaner to start at 2.00 pm Sunday which was normal time instead of double time for daily newspapers.) As a result, the place on Sunday morning was a scene of squalor – heaps of paper, half-eaten sandwiches and general filth. I like to think that made Rupert think it would be easy to run the squalid Canberra Times out of business, and take over its rich advertising revenue, giving him the financial base for his own national newspaper.

So, early in 1964, he started The Australian, printed in Canberra and air-lifted to the State capital cities. Like everyone else, he was surprised to find that Arthur, well aware of the threat to a small family-based company of competition from the rich metropolitan newspapers, had taken preventative action. Arthur had a confidential agreement with John Fairfax Ltd (proprietors of the Sydney Morning Herald) to take over The Canberra Times if there was competition. So Murdoch found that he was fighting John Fairfax Ltd, not a small family company.

Murdoch also had to fight the climate – he had overlooked that Canberra Airport was often fog-bound in winter and The Australian some days did not get to Melbourne or Sydney for morning delivery. So, The Australian was neither a financial nor a production success in Canberra, and he had to move it.

Time to Move On One result of the change was that for a brief time I had a huge sum in my bank account, as part of Arthur’s complex manoeuvres to keep the arrangement secret. Another was that I soon decided I did not wish to work for the Sydney Morning Herald – I disagreed with its politics, and I was surprised to find how bureaucratic it was. I gave them three months notice (that was appropriate in those days; today I probably would have been given ten minutes to clear my desk and been escorted to the door).

I was extremely fortunate to have that fascinating time working with a brilliant journalist who was also an imaginative businessman. Arthur carefully made sure that I got involved in every phase of the business – printing the Canberra Times, staff management, financing, relations with the community, the necessary manoeuvres with John Fairfax Ltd, etc. He was an exceptionally good mentor. The experience was invaluable with my next career, which by chance was university administration.

It probably was good fortune again that John Fairfax Ltd took over. While The Canberra Times was fascinating, I am sure I would not have been happy being a businessman for the rest of my life. Business, politics and journalism are areas that call for full effort and commitment and put family life in a very minor position. (It is significant that these days most happy and successful journalists and politicians have husbands, wives or partners that are also in the same game and understand this.)

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 49 Marg’s Mother from personal experience recognised this and would probably have been pleased for her daughter’s sake that I did not stay with The Canberra Times permanently. My son Jamie found an interview with Heather Cameron in the National Archives in which she said that I did not have my heart in The Canberra Times. I think she was right to the extent that it was not an all-consuming interest for me but there was no doubt that I did have my heart in the next job.

50 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 A New Job

Tuesday, May 24, 2016 After giving John Fairfax Ltd three months notice I obviously had to find a new job as we now had four children and a mortgage (the latter was a very small one by 2016 standards, about a quarter of the cost of the house and not much more than my annual salary – banks in the 1960s did not lend out money irresponsibly). It was some time before I found what turned out to be the best job of my life, establishing the University of Papua and New Guinea (UPNG).

First, in September, 1964, I re-joined the Department of Territories, which I had left five years earlier. For the first few months I was a base-rate clerk until I got a good promotion. During this time we had to live very frugally, with economies like scouring development sites for winter firewood.

The Territories Department was a very different place. The Minister, Paul Hasluck, had moved on and been replaced by the amiable Charlie Barnes, who deferred completely to the new department Head, George Warwick Smith, an economist. In the world of the 1960s the old colonial empires were collapsing and Australia was forced to move rapidly towards independence for Papua and New Guinea. Warwick Smith believed economic progress was the way forward and thought a university would produce dangerous radical students.

He had an embarrassment – there was United Nations pressure for higher education for Papua and New Guinea and an excellent and detailed Report on how to do it. Warwick Smith applied the standard Humphrey Appleby delaying tactic, an Inter-departmental Committee to examine the matter. I got the task of secretary to this committee of senior bureaucrats from several Departments. They were mostly very busy, and with little or no knowledge of or interest in the Territory, but somehow, I managed to get a report from this collection of inflated egos which said there should be a university – and the Federal Cabinet agreed in March, 1965.

Professor Peter Henry Karmel AC, CBE

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 51 Warwick Smith’s next delaying tactic was to select someone to be chair of the Interim Council for the new University. This took him a full six months, till September 1965 when he selected the dynamic Professor Peter Karmel.

First Meeting of the Interim Council, UPNG, Port Moresby, 5 October 1965

Then followed five months of extraordinarily rapid activity which ended with the almost unbelievable enrolment and housing of our first students in a new University in February, 1966. By this time there was a functioning Interim Council, the basic academic structure, the academic and administrative employment conditions, several academics including two professors were already on duty, and staff housing and building design were under way. And the Interim Council had selected as its first Vice-Chancellor, Dr John Gunther, who matched Peter Karmel in drive, competence and enthusiasm.

In the meantime, I had decided that I had had enough of George Warwick Smith’s operations and had been selected for a job as Social Planner for the National Capital Development Commission (it had been set up to speed up the expansion of Canberra). Peter Karmel used his skills to defer that job for three months while he and I worked on the new University, and in the end I stayed with the new University.

Peter asked why didn’t I take a job at UPNG and I explained that Marg had probably had enough of the tropics when we were in Darwin and in any case we had four small children. I mentioned all this to Marg who fairly casually said why don’t you, so I happily appointed myself as the first employee of UPNG as from 1 January, 1966.

Comfortably planning the Housing Program – Derek Alderton (Designer of our first buildings), myself and Dr Gunther

52 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 (My title was initially Deputy Registrar and Bursar but the Deputy Registrar part was dropped. Peter Karmel and Dr Gunther thoughtfully decided that it would be much pleasanter if I was directly responsible to the Vice-Chancellor rather than to the Registrar. So I became just the Bursar – responsible for finance, budgets, staff, buildings, etc. The Registrar, Ted Kedgley, an experienced university administrator from New Zealand, thought it was a bad idea.)

Dr Gunther on the rampage, inspecting the Campus

While work was hard and demanding, there was a wonderful spirit in the new University that we were doing something essential for the developing new nation. With the dynamic Dr Gunther as Vice-Chancellor there was seldom a dull moment and it was even more enjoyable when Ken Inglis was Acting Vice-Chancellor on a couple of extended periods. Back in the Department of Territories, Secretary Warwick Smith tried his best to make things difficult and each year we had a financial crisis. Perhaps just as well for them, neither he nor his Minister ever visited the new University.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 53 Life in Papua New Guinea

Friday, May 27, 2016

12 March 1966, waiting at Canberra Airport for the move to Port Moresby

After taking up the position of Bursar at the newly established University in Papua New Guinea, the family duly moved there in March the following year.

First House Our first house was in the Administrative College housing section – three bedrooms and an air-conditioned study. On their first visit to look at it before it was ready, the children were met with clouds of mosquitos – the worst plague in years, blown in by the North- west monsoon – and said they wanted to go home to Canberra. (This problem was fixed when we got a fogging machine and regularly sprayed around what probably would now be regarded as dangerous chemicals.)

View from our first house of UPNG site – unsealed road and 900 acres of scrub

The houses were excellent but had been built extremely close together, so we would hear our immediate neighbours staggering home each night when the hotels closed. They no doubt heard a lot more from our four children but were tolerant. (Our neighbours were known as “Boldness and Friend” – Richard Pape, a well-known author of books including inevitably “Boldness be my Friend”, and his live-in Friend. Other neighbours included David Chenoweth, Principal of the Administrative College, who had liberal attitudes, and John and Christine Kaputin – he was New Guinean and she was European, and their marriage had enraged the racists of the time.)

54 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Living was very relaxed and safe. The first night we went out we arranged baby-sitters but on our return Linda, aged 10, told us that they did not need baby-sitters any more, and we obeyed. Towards the end of our time in Port Moresby the town grew and a Papuan housing estate adjoined the University site, with a problem or two. Jamie’s bicycle was stolen but he had good contacts in the indigenous community and it was returned. One night Marg and I were out partying and Linda saw a peeping Tom at the window but her intrepid brothers aged 12 and 9 chased him away. After that, we usually locked the house doors at night.

Painting of Sabusa Swamp by Kurt Pfund, 1968

There was no television but I don’t think anyone missed it. The two boys in particular thrived with the freedom. Simon had a pet snake under the house. My father visited us and asked him whether it was poisonous. Simon said “No, the snake bit Jeremy Prince and he hasn’t died.” On one occasion he brought home a huge and fortunately sick, bird- eating spider; on others, a collection of cartridges, shell cases and other relics of the War which he kept under our bedroom. (Our site had been a major army camp and depot in World War 2 and the occasional unexploded bomb would turn up noisily during our building program.) Jamie returned once from an expedition to look at the site of our next house with a large crocodile skull, not so surprising as the large Sabusa Swamp was on the other side of the hill.

The water supply used to go off regularly – the pipes had been roughly unloaded at Port Moresby Harbour but were still used without checking, with the inevitable occasional break. We always kept the bath full of water in case, and anyway it could always be used by the children to cool off.

Racecourse Road (now Waigani Drive) The University and Administrative College sites were eight miles from the main town of Port Moresby, on heavily-used Racecourse Road. The last four miles were unsealed and treacherous in the Wet Season. There were no street lights. The first week we were there, I took a visitor (our cousin Neville Mendham, who was checking his oil palms in the area) back to his hotel in town and got home about midnight. The children were all asleep but Marg was missing. In the black tropical night with no street lights there was no vision but there seemed to be a bit of noise up the road. Sure enough, 100 metres on there was

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 55 an overturned truck and a smell of petrol. Underneath it were two Papuans, one was obviously dead, Marg was looking after the other one who was pinned under the truck.

Simon and Linda at Racecourse Road (now Waigani Drive)

The reason for this well-used road being unsealed was the Director of Works, Henderson. He was one of the all too common racists in the Territory Administration who opposed having any advanced education for Papuans, and also had quarrelled with Dr Gunther, the Vice-Chancellor elect. Henderson had said that Racecourse Road would be sealed “over his dead body.” Prophetic words as it happened – a couple of months after we arrived he had a heart attack and died and soon after work began on realigning and sealing the road.

Late one afternoon, after all the workmen had gone home, there was a commotion down on the road site. A very large piece of earth-moving equipment without a driver had somehow started and was moving along steadily; while a number of small boys could be seen running away from it at high speed. Fortunately it struck an obstacle and stopped before it caused much damage. The boys all said that Simon had started the machine but one theory is that they decided that he would be less likely to get into trouble for the crime than the real culprit.

Schools

There were government schools in Port Moresby following the NSW curriculum. This made it easier for the children when they moved back to NSW schools in 1972. Kate went first to Mrs Brown’s pre-school; Linda, Simon and Jamie went first to Boroko East School, headed by Miss Carey. Simon later went to Gordons Primary, and he and Linda went on to Port Moresby High School. In 1970 the University set up an innovative multi-

56 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 racial school on the University Campus, which Jamie and Kate both attended.

Friends and neighbours Nearly all the staff lived on the University Campus, so it was to some extent communal living. Most of the new arrivals needed help and encouragement in an unfamiliar tropical third-world environment. From the beginning Marg had decided that we should try to make newcomers welcome, so for the first few years we entertained almost all of the newcomers to meals, and finished up with many friends and a full social life.

There was the occasional oddity. One woman arrived for an elaborate dinner for twelve and asked for a plain omelette (and Marg obliged). At another dinner, the main course was topped with bacon and I pointed out to Marg that she should not serve pig meat to a Moslem guest named Mohammed Idris; he had other ideas and complained “Where is my bacon?” and I had to give him mine. Then there was Colonel Bill Flood, the new Catering Manager, previously head of catering for the Australian Army, who ate no food at all but drank a lot of gin and tonic.

George Obara (one of the first group of students of UPNG) and Marg taken late 1966

The Papuan staff seldom brought their wives, saying they were shy and didn’t go out much, although they would usually take a bottle or two of beer home from the party for them. Once however, Ben Moide, who looked after the University fleet of cars, brought Mrs Moide. She spoke no English, so just sat quietly on a chair surrounded by her long voluminous skirts, smiling happily and accepting the odd beer. Around midnight, however, she suddenly started to sing with a rich Motuan voice and when she rose to leave we found 15 empty beer bottles under her chair.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 57 Our excellent second house – 5-bedroom UR2 design, thanks to Commonwealth Works Department

Now and again there were problems with housing – it was a constant battle to have all we needed. I became skilled at breaking into houses of academics who lost their keys. Twice we had a problem with an axe. Mrs Sabadi came round once in agitation because her boyfriend was chopping down her (the University’s) house. He was a huge muscular guy who worked at a sawmill but by good fortune she had recently brought him to a party at our house, so he was polite to me and agreed to desist. Another time, a History tutor had delusions and decided to elope to London with Jim Griffin, the History lecturer who lived next door to us with his wife and six children. He was battering down the house while Jim and family were presumably cowering inside till Marg went round and pacified him until strong medical attention arrived. (He later recovered but was unsuccessful in his efforts to join the Dominicans – they said he was far too religiously enthusiastic for them.)

Family boat trip to Motupore Island, PNG

One benefit of living on the campus was that the University owned the roads. This was a bonus for Linda, who learnt to drive on them when she was about 14. Simon learnt even younger, as he had a friend with a motor business. We installed speed humps on one of our campus roads to slow down drivers where there were children playing and the Chief Inspector of Police came out to tell Dr Gunther that we could not do that as he did not believe they were effective. Dr Gunther was delighted to tell him that the University was not subject to local traffic rules and told him to go back to town and do some useful work.

58 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Dr Gunther enjoyed stirring up bureaucrats.

Young Jamie had a different advantage – he used to bring his friends home to have plates of cornflakes for afternoon tea so that he could get extra crater critters for his collection. Then, however, he became friends with Herron Tom, whose father worked in the University Kitchens and served cornflakes to hundreds of students every day. From this came a huge flow of crater critters.

Domestic Servants

Having a domestic servant, known as a houseboy (hausboi in Melanesian Pidgin) was a required part of the social structure of the time, whether you wanted them or not, as it provided some employment for unskilled people. One thing I could not do in Port Moresby was gardening. Any time I went outside with a spade or fork, a Local would appear from nowhere ready to take over and do the job for a couple of dollars.

We had a succession of domestic servants – first John Wesley Yaui Waui, who spoke excellent English and did very little work, I suspect he was not well, rather than lazy. Then Simon Popo, another Highlander with no English but a great sense of humour that could surface even through the language barrier. He was super-energetic, especially in the garden, where he broke several spades with his energy. Finally, poor simple Raphael who mostly did the ironing. One year we gave him a one-way ticket back home to the Highlands, hoping he would stay back with his family but when we returned from leave, there he was waiting for us again, with a packet of coffee beans from his own coffee trees. One of the lecturers in Anthropology had a theory that New Guineans had some sort of ESP that allowed them to be in the Highlands and understand what was going on down in Port Moresby.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 59 Fighting the Department of Territories and Winning

Wednesday, June 01, 2016 The Early Years of the University of Papua and New Guinea Establishing the University in 1966 was not easy but it was of vital importance to the Territory and very rewarding to the participants.

Fifty years later at a launch of an exhibition of Papua New Guinea art by Ken McKinnon, who was Director of Education in Papua New Guinea when the University started, he was still commenting on the massive influence the University had had – not only in educating and training future leaders but also in promoting respect for and understanding of the country’s indigenous cultures, and in moving it away from the colonialist attitudes of the Australian ruling race.

He also still talked about the obstruction of educational and social progress of the Department of Territories and its Secretary George Warwick Smith (GWS), so I will mention this briefly as it affected our new enterprise. In the previous chapter, I note that there was an excellent Report which set out in careful detail all the administrative and academic blueprint for the University. This was prepared in only 13 months but GWS’s bureaucratic skills ensured that it took 18 months to get through the departmental channels before it could start. Once established, GWS made sure that each year was a financial crisis for us. Fortunately for him perhaps, as I mentioned before, he never visited the University in any of his frequent trips to Port Moresby.

The Territory had virtually no post-primary schools until 12 years before, in 1954, and there were genuine concerns about how a University could be of high standard in such a situation. There were also plenty of resident racist Australians who thought that brown- skinned people were inferior and incapable of higher education. Peter Karmel ensured the high standards in several ways – he ensured the appointment of the best academic staff, and he set up a system of internationally regarded external examiners in each discipline. They marked the final papers and also visited the Territory. For their visits, we provided fares, accommodation, etc. for them and their wives (regrettably, in 1966 none of the external examiners were women).

One visit went seriously wrong for the examiner. I had made it clear in the conditions that we paid for everything except alcoholic drinks (perhaps a hang-over from my Methodist past) and Professor X and his wife had run up a rather large drinks bill which I paid and wrote suggesting politely that he might refund the amount. He didn’t reply, but his wife did. She thanked me for my letter, said she would not be paying the bill as she had not been in Port Moresby with her husband but my letter would be very useful in her current divorce proceedings.

I arrived in Port Moresby on 14 March, 1966, a month after the first students started the first courses on 7 February.

My first tasks on arrival in Port Moresby were severely practical ones. David Chenoweth, Principal of the Administrative College (a Government college training people for a range of jobs from typing to running village courts) had done invaluable work, in this Third World country, finding our first students and accommodation for them in labourers’ dormitories

60 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 at Waigani and local-material huts for teaching at Port Moresby Showground, but they were all very rough. One of the first students, Rabbie Namaliu, who later became the Chief (Prime) Minister, described the living facilities: “a disgusting mosquito-infested area where the only comfortable time one had was when one was out of Waigani. The Showground where we used to have lectures was just as bad. Even the mosquito nets proved futile because the mosquitos still managed to get in somewhere while one was asleep… for light we used pressure lamps…”

So, my very first jobs were to get electricity, mosquito wiring on the windows and doors and walkable paths through the mud, plus some actual flooring for the classrooms.

David had got us started adequately for the first year and we were able to run the administration for a while out of the large house of the Vice-Chancellor as his wife had gone back to Australia for the year. The next year, 1967, loomed, especially as there were more staff to come, and staff housing and temporary buildings for all the work of running a complex institution were needed. This looked an insurmountable problem. The Territory Works Department was grossly overworked and unable to help us, similarly the few private enterprise firms, but we were fortunate.

The Commonwealth Department of Works had operated in the Territory with post-war reconstruction but was starting to wind down. They were quite pleased when we turned up with our problems – yes, we’ll build you 50-odd assorted houses, one large two-storey office block and eight fibro sheds and they will be ready for March 1967. Some of them actually were ready by March, despite delays from an unusually heavy wet season. We just managed, by complex juggling, including persuading some of the new staff to leave their families behind until their houses were ready.

Another special Third World problem was the lack of library facilities in Port Moresby. Our energetic University Librarian was still in Australia but he masterminded a brilliant campaign for book donations from universities, service clubs and others and attracted 50,000 books, mostly useful. They of course had to be supplemented with books specific to our courses, but the previously mentioned obstructors of the Department of Territories tried to argue that we didn’t need any more library funds.

The difficulties were considerable but in 1970 we were able to have our first graduation ceremony. They included Vincent Eri, who wrote “Crocodile”, the first novel ever written by a Papua New Guinean and who became Director of Education when his mentor Ken McKinnon left in 1974; Renagi Lohia, who was in turn Chairman of the Public Service Board, Vice-Chancellor, High Commissioner to Australia and Ambassador to the USA; Rabbie Namaliu (previously quoted) who was the University’s first local academic staff member and later Chief Minister.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 61 The Campus by 1971

By the end of 1971 when we left, the statistics were impressive: 1,118 students; 101 graduates (94 bachelor, 7 higher degree); 86 post-graduate diplomas. Building construction included 213 houses and flats, 6 staff barracks blocks, 7 large student dormitories, 12,511 square metres of teaching, library and student space, well- established roads and services over the 900-acre campus, and a mass of ancillary buildings. The gardens were of such quality that they were excised by the Government and became the National Botanic Gardens.

For anyone interested in more detail, I have written at some length about the University in a paper entitled “Establishing the University of Papua and New Guinea – Fighting the Department of Territories and Winning” which will appear shortly. I also talked for two hours to Edgar Waters who was a contributor to the National Library of Australia’s oral history recording program – this is available at here .

62 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 A University Built On Lamington Drives

Friday, June 03, 2016 Wollongong – A Different Kind Of Bursar Job With our children growing up, it was time to leave the pleasant and worthwhile years in Papua New Guinea and return to Australia. I was appointed to the newly-created job as Bursar of the Wollongong University College (WUC) and started on 1 February, 1972. The WUC was a College of the University of New South Wales moving steadily towards independence. The creation of my new job was one of the moves to support that.

The College had been set up as the result of strong local pressure and fund-raising. One of the founders, Ethel Hayton, used to say that our university was the only one ever built on lamington drives. The staff kept up the local connection – Ken Ausburn (in Physics) was a big force in the environment; John Steinke and Ken Blakey (Economics) were the local advisors on all economic matters and developed the Illawarra Regional Information Service; Jeff Hazell (Librarian) chaired the new Committee that set up the Friends of the Wollongong Art Gallery.

The staff at Wollongong were generally enthusiastic and welcoming and we made many new lasting friendships. There were, however, three basic problems.

1. The University of NSW (“Kenso Tech” to its many non-admirers) had control of even trivial matters at the WUC. Kenso made all staff appointments; it set the exams and marked the results (this once included cutting all Ken Ausburn’s Physics I marks by an arbitrary 10% to save embarrassing the lecturer at Kensington). It really treated Wollongong like a colonial outpost. In Port Moresby we were used to visitors buying local grass skirts and such, but our visitors from Kensington brought lists of the fish that (until I arrived) our staff would be sent to buy for them at the Wollongong Fish Market. The University had grown out of the NSW Department of Technical Education and many of its senior staff were ex-public servants, and it showed. When there were visits from one senior executive (name and title deleted), I made sure there was a full bottle of whiskey in my cupboard and it was always virtually empty by the time he was ready to return to Sydney. 2. The second problem was the Warden, Professor Gray. He had been very successful and admired as a professor of engineering in Singapore and Kuala Lumpur, and in his early days in Wollongong had ensured close and effective community interaction. By 1972, however, probably as the result of stresses with the University of NSW (recorded in many places elsewhere) he had become withdrawn, suspicious, prone to pointless manoeuvring on unimportant matters, and resistant to any change. To quote myself in Nick Hartgerink’s book about the University (“Regional Icon, Global Achiever”): “He symbolically moved from a nice sunny north- facing office into two rooms on the south side of the building, where he usually had the blinds drawn.” Nick goes on: “This detail stuck with Meek, as he was allocated the sunny office that the Warden had vacated.” Having such a Warden left the institution open to office politics and intrigues – this was new to me as in Papua New Guinea no one had either time or inclination for such activities. 3. The third major problem was financial. Kenso had financial problems in 1972, my first year, and Wollongong was an easy target for their savings. They had previously decided that the College badly needed five new professorships, mainly to diversify the courses but in 1972 decided to defer them indefinitely – they were referred to as

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 63 the ‘frozen chairs’ – adding significantly to the already strong loathing of Kenso. Our allocation for minor works for the year was $700. (After much of his typical manoeuvring on trivia, the Warden got a specially established committee of community leaders to resolve to spend the $700 in the way he had already long- since decided, on coal-wash to provide a carpark.) The allocation for equipment for a College that specialised in teaching metallurgy, engineering and science was a derisory $1000. (When I arrived on 1 February, they apologised because it was gone – they had already spent it buying two electric typewriters for the administration.) From such a start, things were bound to get better. Specifically, I soon worked out that independence must come within a couple of years or so and that there was no way our Warden would be part of an independent university (the academic staff were unanimous on that matter).

Site meeting: Ron Kinnell, John Bell, John Manton, Ian Lowe, Geoff Harrison

At the end of 1972, John Bell was appointed as Estate Manager. In 1973, thanks to Peter Karmel (now Chairman of the grants body, the Australian Universities Commission) we got our own direct cash grant from the Commonwealth Government, separate from Kenso’s. By 1973, however, the good old days of generous funding of universities was over and we had to be prudent managers.

At the end of 1973, Michael Birt arrived as Vice-Chancellor designate and brought an enlightened approach to all the issues. It became a proper university and achieved full independence as the University of Wollongong on 1 January, 1975.

An anonymous (but identifiable) staff member described my contribution to the new institution in rather flowery terms : “In those early days, the combination of Ben’s eclectic knowledge, managerial skills and wry wit contributed much to setting the distinctive “Wollongong” style. That style is still marked by originality and enterprise, self-sufficiency and a dash of audacity. It also involves, as Ben Meek’s achievements especially show, a keen sense of commitment to the community.”

Fringe Benefits For Bursars Now and again it was possible as Bursar to find funds for desirable activities that were not in the direct line of teaching and research or their support.

One such matter was the Universities art collection, now large enough to need a curator but it started from an extremely small beginning. It started in a financially lean year when we set aside $5,000 for works of art and appointed Daniel Thomas as ‘dictator’ to select

64 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 the works. There was an even smaller contribution the same year when we bought a painting from a troubled student for the amount of his outstanding library fines which were preventing his graduation. It has presumably by now been de-accessed but for years it was hung in the main library stairwell.

Granddaughter Bronwyn in pink, top left, 1990

It was also interesting helping some vigorous women set up Kids Uni. This was state of the art and a rare example of good workplace child care in the 1970s. It took some skill to start-up and construction funds from a very tight University budget. Kids Uni was of direct benefit to our family as Kate did a school work placement there, while grandchildren Christian and Bronwyn were enrolled there from a very early age.

An Unskilled Staff Member With An MA Degree One part of our social responsibility was to provide employment for difficult cases. (Usually it became Ian Lowe’s part to supervise them.) One day Merv Nixon, Head of the South Coast Labour Council phoned me and said: “You’re known to be a friend of the workers, can you do anything for Malcolm Black?”

Farewelling Malcolm Black

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 65 Malcolm had been a Presbyterian minister, had lost his Church for opposing the Vietnam War and was persecuted unkindly in every attempt to get another job. He really needed and deserved help. His CV was very thin – his work experience extended only to having been a private in the Black Watch Regiment and then a Presbyterian minister, and his thick Scottish accent didn’t help (he came from Iona).

We made him a security patrolman and he was not a great success. Ian Lowe tested his driving skills and felt he was lucky to survive; if he delivered the mail to the Library he would find an interesting book and disappear for hours; if he washed the Vice- Chancellor’s car he forgot to wind the windows up. It was a relief when Malcolm turned the compulsory retirement age of 65, although we had a misprint in the documents and kept him on some days extra so that he had five years service and got long-service leave.

New Leaders And Jobs At The University Unfortunately, in 1977 Austin Keane, who had been the respected and effective down-to- earth Deputy Vice-Chancellor, and who had no time for the manoeuvring methods of the Warden Gray era, had to retire from ill-health and his loss did not help the smooth running of the university.

Michael Birt had turned the Wollongong University College into a genuine university but was becoming anxious to get to a bigger city, and in 1981 moved on as Vice-Chancellor of the University of NSW. One of his last acts, prompted by office politicking, was to review the administrative organisation.

This led to a re-organisation of the University’s administration, in which I was no longer the Bursar. The re-organisation was not a complete success. Ken McKinnon took over as Vice-Chancellor immediately after the reorganisation happened but I did not accept his suggestion that I return to the position of bursar. The chief beneficiary of the reorganisation did not stay for very long, (and appeared to move to new jobs reasonably often thereafter).

It would be an understatement to say that I was not happy about this change but in retrospect it was a good thing. I stayed on at Wollongong, however, for several more years in charge of the newly set up Friends of the University until the end of 1985 when I retired.

The Friends of the University was an interesting and innovative plan involving dealing directly with all sections of the local community. It was a completely new kind of activity for me and was a great introduction to local affairs. This led on to very satisfying activities when I retired in 1985.

Meanwhile, What About The Family? Although they no doubt missed their friends, Jamie and Kate settled well into Pleasant Heights Primary School, a pleasant walk over the back fence through a nature reserve where bowerbirds nested.

66 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Cats were always part of the family. These two came from an ad “adorable kittens free to good homes.” Later on, their kittens went from similar ads.

It was harder for Linda and Simon moving to new high schools where the students all had longer-established relationships. Simon said he coped with that by concentrating on athletics and broke some middle-distance records.

Linda, Kate, Marg, Kathy (Lorenc) and Jamie raising funds for the Wollongong Crisis Centre

Marg soon became a volunteer in Monica Lowe’s Intensive Care ward at Wollongong Hospital; then took the TAFE Welfare Certificate; this led to a new career as a drug counsellor and later a BA degree. I also became involved, to a very modest degree, in the drug scene as I became for seven years the treasurer of the Wollongong Crisis Centre (now called Watershed) the live-in drug withdrawal centre established by Marg and her colleagues.

On the suggestion of Professor Gray that this was part of my community role, I had joined a Rotary Club in 1972. Although the club did some good work, the compulsory Monday night dinner was the main focus and I got written admonitions for my poor attendance record at it. Fortunately, Marg’s Welfare Certificate course also had Monday night sessions, so I was able to resign politely from Rotary on the grounds that I had to mind our children. They of course didn’t need minding but I enjoyed it and Monday night became a part of the week to look forward to.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 67 One by one, the children finished school (Linda in 1973, Simon in 1975, Jamie in 1978). We became inured to their starting independent lives and leaving home. Linda worked on the Wollongong Hospital switchboard and then took a BA degree, starting in 1977, followed by a Bachelor of Social Studies at Sydney. Simon took a Bachelor of Applied Science degree at Canberra CAE (now the University of Canberra) starting in 1976. In 1979, Jamie took a traineeship with Geoff Hamer’s innovative computer training programme.

New young faces started to appear. One St Valentine’s Day, a very large box of heart- shaped chocolates wrapped in mauve foil heralded the arrival of Marino Zugan. One day in 1979, two sinister-looking bikers dressed in black turned up one of them being Rachel Davies, who Simon fortunately had met up with at the CAE. Then, Jamie fortunately met up with a fellow trainee, Helen Carter.

Marg’s father had established generous Trusts for each of his grandchildren, maturing at age 21. These were a great help to each of them in turn in buying properties. Linda was the first, with a unit in Gray Street, Keiraville, replaced in 1980 with the house in William Street, Balgownie.

By 1980, Kate was the only one still at school and at home. I must say I found it somewhat deflating to see them leaving one by one, at the same time pleased that they were all going off into exciting new fields. The five-bedroom house in Mount Ousley seemed rather empty and we started looking around for a smaller house, preferably our old dream of a small cottage in the country. More about the unlikely result of that search in the next section when we move to Kiama.

Holidays

We had a very English Christmas with my eccentric and very kind and welcoming cousins, John and Helen and their spouses Joyce and Charlie (Cornwell) at Claygate, Surry, about 25 km from London. For Christmas there was even a robin peering through the windows and watching Morris Dancers in the icy weather.

68 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 John and Helen’s father was my father’s brother, the Rev. H. Arthur Meek. Uncle Arthur had settled in England about 1909 and married a distant cousin but the family maintained close connections. John spent his time between the Methodist Church at Claygate and the Anglican Church at the adjoining suburb (village) Esher, working at the Oxfam shop and writing letters for Amnesty. He and Joyce both were enthusiastic country dancers and later moved to a house with a garden large enough for their large group to perform. Cousin Helen was a lovely fey person who in middle age had married the local street- sweeper, Charlie Cornwell. Charlie, also rather fey, had spent seven years in hospital with World War 1 injuries.

Foxground Escape

“Nunnoo”, Free Selectors Road, Foxground

By the mid-1970s, Marg and I both had demanding jobs – the new University was growing and becoming more complex; Marg had become a Counsellor at Kembla House drug referral centre and live-in Wollongong Crisis Centre.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 69 We found a great place for week-ends with a silent phone number – “Nunnoo”, an imaginative house and 50 acres of mostly rainforest at Foxground, high in the escarpment. For the next ten years it was the place for weekends and other escapes from Wollongong work pressures. My brother Mike also loved to stay on his own at that remote site.

The Older Generation Meanwhile, the older generation was thinning out. Marg’s Father had a disabling stroke in 1972 and died in October 1975. Marg’s aunts were now old ladies. My Aunt Nell had moved to the Lottie Stewart Nursing Home and died in 1971. My Father lived alone at Yagoona until 1969, then moved to the W.G. Taylor Home at Narrabeen where he died in his sleep in May 1974, aged 92. Aunt Gertrude and Uncle Gordon both died in 1970.

After 50 years, Aunt Evelyn sold “Mandalay”, which she had kept as an open house for all the family and moved into a flat next door. She was still as sharp-witted and interested in all the family as ever but in 1980, after two broken legs in succession, developed dementia (although she lived on until 1986, aged 95).

70 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Brown Family of Clusta, Shetland Reunion at Bedgerebong, descendants of Margaret Shakespeare 1837-1924 (nee Brown) – Ray & Gwen Howe, Ben & Marg, Heather, Hazel, Glen & Liz, Bess

The surviving Meeks at Hobbys Yards – Malcolm, Nancy, Horace, Arthur, Clive, Mike, Thea, Ben, Ivy, Edwin, Ruth, Arthur. Seated – Nina, Maisie, Jack, Marg, Hilarie

Before we left the University of Wollongong, from which I retired and Kembla House from which Marg retired in 1985, there were reunions on both sides of the family – the extended family of Meeks at Hobbys Yards, and the hundreds of descendants of Thomas and Barbara Brown who left the Shetland Islands in 1856. (The Shakespeares were the descendants of Shetland-born Margaret Brown – later Shakespeare.)

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 71 Kiama: An Ideal Place For Retirees

Monday, June 06, 2016 We Look For A Small Cottage In The Country And Find A Large House In The Centre Of Town In early 1981, I had stopped being the Bursar of the University of Wollongong and got involved with the Friends of the University, which was a more pleasant and interesting end to my working life than continuing as Bursar would have been. At that stage I was aged 53 and had already thought for some time about the joys of early retirement.

Marg and I had also just made another major change by moving from Wollongong to Kiama, 40 km away. This was in August, 1980.

When Marg and I were first married we had a dream about living in a small old cottage in the country, and now with our children growing up and leaving home it seemed a good idea to follow the dream and started looking at such places.

What we found was rather different -72 Shoalhaven Street, Kiama, a large two-storey 1895 villa about a hundred metres off the main street of Kiama.

The house “Dalmeny” was built in 1895 by Sir George Fuller for Sarah, one his six daughters, who had married a Scottish doctor, Thomas Primrose Anderson. Sir George reputedly built a house for any of his daughters who married. Till 1950 it was owned by a series of doctors, all of whom both lived in it and conducted their surgery from it, so it was a significant site for the Kiama community. (A benefit for us was that, strangely, it was still attached to the Kiama Hospital power supply – during electricity black-outs in the 1980s our house and the Hospital still had light and power.)

The last doctor, Dr Cranna, sold it in 1950 to the CWA (Country Women’s Association), which turned it into four flats and replaced the doctor’s garage with a meeting hall that is still there. The flats were yet another of the economical amenities the CWA provided for country people – in those days there were no motels in Australia. Times changed, the CWA sold the property, and it was now squalid and in need of a large-scale renovation.

We decided on a restoration, i.e. to restore the house to as close as practical to how it had been when first built in 1895. This involved a lot of research, which became a big interest for both of us, and visits to antique shops, restoration building suppliers, and other surviving late-Victorian houses. The National Trust in Sydney helped by leading us to an architect who was skilled in such work and he found a skilled restoration builder.

The restoration work included demolishing internal walls, removing a fibro-cement addition, uncladding the veranda and balcony, finding iron lace and pillars for them, and much else. We moved in August 1980 and for about 18 months lived in the middle of the renovations. Kate stayed with us in the renovation for her final High School year, 1981.

There were plenty of frustrations and plenty of pleasant surprises. We found a tiled pathway under the front lawn, mummified rats and 1890s garden catalogues under the house, as well as medicine bottles (doctors used to make up their own prescriptions). We also met the elderly Mrs Darcy-Irvine, born in the house in 1898, who remembered the original paint colours.

72 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Dalmeny before the renovation

Dalmeny restored

Kiama was still somewhat short of modern amenities when we arrived in August 1980. The town was still unsewered, although our house was connected to an ancient system that still emptied into Kiama Harbour. The Town Planner, Julie Edwards lived next door, had the same facility, and suggested that we did not broadcast the fact. Unfortunately for one of our first visitors, Kiama’s streets were not fully sealed and she bogged her car in the street outside, a full 100 metres from the main street.

Gardens, Ghosts and Galahs Our researches included late 19 th Century gardens and Marg developed an attractive example around the house. A few years later, Kiama’s official heritage study referred to the “genuine Victorian garden at 72 Shoalhaven Street”. There was in fact one genuine survivor of the original garden, a pair of magnificent 90-year old Norfolk Island Pines but only one of the pair is still there now. After we had left in 1994, the new owner was about to go out the front door but delayed to find her purse. She was stopped by an explosion – lightning had struck one of the pines and split it. (She said God had preserved her – Jamie suggested He might have been giving her a warning.)

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 73 Much of Marg’s garden had already disappeared as the new owners had set up an Hotel Privee (a very upmarket B&B) and Council forced them to replace the garden with car- parking.

All large old houses have unexplained noises which excite the imagination of suggestible people and we had two overnight visitors during the rough renovation time who claimed to have seen apparitions. One was Sue Walker, wife of UoW Vice-Chancellor Ken McKinnon, who had a Scottish background and spoke Scots Gaelic. The other was a work associate of Marg’s who perhaps had seen too much of people with drug problems.

The chimneys were very long, having to negotiate two high-ceilinged floors and then go on well above the roof line. The chimneys were fitted with metal flaps as covers for when the fireplaces were not in use, and one day we heard a loud scuffle in one chimney. Marg bravely opened the flap, reached in, and out flew a soot-covered galah. It proceeded out a window and into one of the two pine trees, and we replaced the metal flap. For some reason the galah stayed around, I thought perhaps it was grateful for being rescued. Two days later, however, there was another scuffling noise in the same chimney, again Marg opened it, out flew a second sooty galah. It flew out the window and joined the original galah in the pine tree. It had obviously been waiting patiently for his or her – confirmation that galahs take their relationships seriously.

The renovation attracted the attention of the Kiama community and we got the Council’s first building restoration award for it

Because the house had been an important part of Kiama’s life, our restoring it back from its sad state aroused a lot of local interest and it became for us an entrée into the life of the Kiama community. We soon became involved with local affairs. This involvement fitted well with my new job with the Friends of the University, working with the exuberant Giles Pickford who was also an Alderman of Wollongong City Council.

First was my joining Kiama Council’s Tourism and Commerce Committee. I was often a minority of one, except that I was in a minority of two when Councillor Ruth Devenney attended. (Ruth was a warrior for the environment and had developed her skills in North Sydney, where her group had successfully fought a developer and forced him to demolish four floors of a building he had erected beyond the approved zoning height.)

74 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Kiama Council recognising work to preserve & restore Kiama’s dry-stone walls

Ruth and I lost many arguments. The Big Illawarra Shorthorn Cow was one of them. A member of the Tourism and Commerce Committee, inspired by other towns which had the Big Banana, the Big Merino and other Big things, got agreement for a super-sized model of a cow as an entry marker for Kiama. Fortunately, it didn’t get on the Works Program and some time later a life-sized cow was created instead (still gracing the old Fire Station in Central Park). Instead, the Rotary Club built a dry-stone wall to mark the entry to Kiama.

Marg and I joined the Historical Society and sat on tiny chairs in the Infants School. When the recently abandoned Pilots Cottage was given to Kiama Council and the Historical Society got control, this became a major activity. First, it needed some renovation, and then we got a Bicentennial Grant to set it up as a museum.

Opening of Pilot’s Cottage display with Kiama Mayor Neville Fredericks (left), Minister for Local Government, John Hay (centre)

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 75 John Rees and Ben Meek at the Pilot’s Cottage, Kiama

Historical Societies are generally well-known for members with firm ideas, and this one was no exception. Some of the members wanted modern displays that told the story of Kiama but one member wanted a series of dioramas and another one wanted it filled with Victorian furniture (he was involved with the regular antiques auctions that Kiama had in the 1980s.) Fortunately, the two latter members went off in a huff so we were able to set up modern permanent displays. These displays are still largely there 30 years later. One of the two huffers returned later to the Historical Society and gave a public address on how well he had set up the museum.

Robert Irving being shown around the “History in Kiama’s Houses” by Margaret and Ben Meek

One of our best displays was “History in Kiama’s Houses”

A Brush with the Law Police and historical societies do not often meet but we had one such occasion when the Society organised a large elegant food and wine day at Hartwell House, the grandest old house in Kiama. One Sydney couple phoned about it and were told they could pay on the day, which they did. This couple turned out to be two men who expressed great interest in the furniture and drapes, and I guessed they were a gay couple. They had a great time and drank more than the average amount of our good wines. Late in the afternoon however, they revealed themselves as members of the licensing police and said there was a breach in the advertising of our function. I told them that they had breached the rules of hospitality, which didn’t help the situation much.

76 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 In Court, the magistrate agreed with the police but said it was a trivial matter which should never have been pursued. The Licensing Police had come at the pressing of the next-door neighbour, a thoroughly obnoxious man who had some political influence and was campaigning against the unfortunate owners of Hartwell House. They were hoping to set up a B&B to make it commercially viable, an excellent idea for such a house, and the obnoxious neighbour was using every trick to make it hard for them. Ours was only one in a series of his acts – getting the parking police to another Hartwell House function and filling their septic tank from his garden hose were others.

Politics and Restoration Various other activities turned up. The Hospital had its centenary and restored its oldest building, Barroul (built in 1858) and Marg advised on its colours. Thirty years later Barroul has been allowed to decay again but restoration is again on the way.

We had event-packed Heritage Weeks every year, with great supplements in the Kiama Independent newspaper.

Ray Thorburn set up an innovative Family History Centre. The Family History Centre is an excellent on-going facility but it had a rather strange formal establishment. It was modelled on the Corofin Centre in County Clare, Ireland, and Ray Thorburn got a visiting delegation from County Clare to come to Kiama and formally unveil the foundation stone. The stone was in the empty block next to our house in Shoalhaven Street and the High School band was commissioned to play suitable music. The amiable men from Ireland were no doubt surprised when the suitable music turned out to be the Welsh tune, Men of Harlech. Perhaps they were even more surprised at the Civic Reception where the Mayor noted how well the delegation had got on with the people of Kiama and said: “But of course, after all we are all Englishmen.”

Council set up an Architectural Advisory Panel. The members included my friend from University, Wally Abraham, known as the Sage of Saddleback for his wise deliberations and the exuberant property developer Jose de la Vega, whose voice got louder and louder as he talked about his latest enthusiasm. About two-thirds of the proposals we examined never got off the ground, which suggests that local government staff must spend a lot of time for no practical outcome.

On one occasion a developer cheated the Panel. The site of the demolished Brighton Hotel opposite the harbour was very prominent and had great significance for the local people, so Council rezoned it from two to four storeys for the express purpose of allowing a building with full public access, specifically a hotel or motel. Unwisely, however, it ignored advice from Councillor Devenney and omitted this precise specification. Wally Abraham worked closely with the developer to design a hotel that was in harmony with Kiama’s general character and the plans were approved. Immediately he got the approval, however, the developer sold the site to the Illawarra Retirement Trust (IRT) which with minor changes was able to convert it into units to sell to the super-rich. The IRT added insult to this betrayal of the community by giving one of the best harbour view units as a retirement present to its general manager.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 77 Kiama Adult Education Association receives grant

I had developed a symbiotic relationship with the MP for Throsby, Colin Hollis. I used his office in Albion Park for photocopying, etc. which had become a big matter with all our local activities. On their side, Colin and his staff found me useful because I was not a member of the ALP so he could appoint me as an independent person for committees like the Centenary of Federation grants committee. He also got me to be the (very busy) secretary to the Adult Education organisation he set up for Kiama.

He and his staff and facilities later were even more helpful when the National Trust set up an Illawarra Shoalhaven Branch in 1986 and I became its first Chair. They became essential when our efforts to save the Old Wollongong Courthouse began in 1987 and we found almost impossible bureaucratic obstacles. (More about the Old Courthouse and the National Trust later.)

The Jackboot of Fascism When we arrived in Kiama in 1980, Kiama was as careless of its great stock of heritage buildings as any other town. Although the Big Cow entry marker idea had not got going, one of the Councillors had knocked down one wall of one of the weatherboard terraces that grace the entry to Kiama and dumped an old Sydney tram on the site. He was then proposing to knock down the two pleasant 19 th Century cottages in Central Park, when the NSW Heritage Council (in those days a quite powerful and active body) turned its attention to Kiama. It realised that Kiama still had more of its earlier character than most towns, had largely escaped the destructive rebuilding of the 1970s but that this heritage was in danger. It placed an interim Conservation Order on the whole of Central Kiama (this meant there could be no demolitions or changes without approval from the Heritage Council).

Kiama Council was outraged. Councillor X (now deceased) said: “This is the jackboot of fascism being ground into the faces of Kiama. We fought wars to prevent this kind of action.” The Council voted 9:1 to censure the Heritage Council (only Councillor Ruth Devenney, previously mentioned, spoke against the censure and she was greeted with hostile laughter).

In the end, Ruth really won because the Council eventually realised there was value in Kiama’s built heritage – the weatherboard terraces at the Collins Street entry had proved to be the developer’s most profitable venture ever and was attracting tourist in big

78 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 numbers; and the Historical Society had got grants that provided Kiama, at no cost to Council, with a good modern museum that tourists enjoyed. The Mayor put it in crude terms: “There is money in our heritage.” As a result, Kiama has worked well to care for its built heritage and has become a highly popular tourist destination as well as a haven for comfortably off self-funded retirees.

Citizen Award Winner 1988

Another consequence was that Council when deciding on their Citizen of the Year award for 1988 noted that it was the bicentennial of European settlement in Australia. So, since I had become identified with much of the local heritage activity, I became the citizen of the year. It was not so much a personal award for me as Kiama Council recognising that Kiama’s heritage was now important.

Family Events During the years 1980 to 1994 when we lived busily in Kiama, our children were also busy. There were graduations from universities, new careers, marriages, partnerships, house and farm purchases, and the particularly exciting arrival of grandchildren.

Jamie and Helen Edna Carter marry 12 July 1984 at Unanderra Registry Office

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 79 Simon and Rachel Elizabeth Davies marry 5 July 1980 at the Church of the Immaculate Conception, Carcoar

Linda had already left home in 1978 but in 1980 sold her unit and bought the miner’s cottage at William Street, Balgownie which she later renovated, getting the Wollongong City Council Renovation award. (It probably should have got the top architectural award for the year but it seems that politics intruded, as so often happens in such matters, and the top award went to Wollongong Hospital’s cancer treatment extension.) She also, finished her BA at Wollongong, got a Bachelor of Social Studies at Sydney, and started her continuing career as a social worker with the Health Commission.

Simon finished his degree at Canberra CAE (now the University of Canberra), married Rachel Davies on a day of light snow at the Church of the Immaculate Conception, Carcoar, in July 1980, bought a unit in Evatt, ACT during the Malcolm Fraser-inspired freeze on development of Canberra and had a few uninspiring years as a rising public servant. When Rachel’s father retired, Simon and Rachel escaped happily from the public service and took over the “Old Woman’s Creek” farm in 1984.

Jamie and Helen finished their computer traineeships and started working at the University, together with degree studies. They also found The Shambles in Cordeaux Road, Mount Kembla, a characterful aged cottage which soon became too small, necessitating a move to a pink, 50s house in Wade Street, Unanderra.

Grandchildren Sam Edward and Oscar Benjamin

80 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Grandchildren Bronwyn Meredith and Christian Thomas

Our first grandchild, Oscar, was born in Canberra in September 1983, followed by Christian in December 1984, then in August 1985 by Sam, who thoughtfully arrived just two weeks before Simon and Rachel had finished building their new house, and then our first granddaughter Bronwyn in December 1987.

So, in just four years we found ourselves with the wonderful gift of four grandchildren. The big house in Kiama was an interesting place for them and subsequent grandchildren, with many rooms, bannisters to slide down and a safe beach just down the road. They didn’t find any ghosts but Bronwyn now tells us that they were scared of the Papuan carved man that glared down at them in what was usually the children’s bedroom.

Rosie Margaret Harris, with Dad Gary

Kate, meanwhile, had stayed with us till the end of Year 12 in 1981, then went to Sydney for her BA (Early Childhood) and bought a semi at 112 Norton Street, Ashfield and started her career as a Pre-schoolteacher in Sydney. Then in 1989, great changes. One day to avoid the traffic delays on the Princes Highway, we drove from Kiama to Wollongong via Jamberoo and saw a recently erected for sale sign on a charming old farm house with about 60 acres that we had often passed and admired from afar. Kate decided to look at it. The farm was lush but the house was almost derelict. So much so that the agent refused to go inside; I went in through the squalor and decay and came out unscathed but appalled. Ten minutes later, out came Kate and Marg, almost ecstatic

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 81 about how it could be renovated.

The family gathers at Wangaruka (1892) which Kate purchased in 1989

Kate and partner Gary had some months of vigorous effort, with some help from the family and it was just possible for them to move in by the end of 1989, with our fifth grandchild Rosie, who was born in November, 1989 in Sydney.

82 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 At Last Our Little Cottage In The Country

Thursday, June 09, 2016 Albion Park (Tullimbar)

Auction notice for Tullimbar School, 24 July 1993

We’d had this dream since we were first married of having a small cottage in the country and had indeed picked out a specific one on the old Hume Highway. We were looking for one in 1980 but had ended up with the six-bedroomed, two storey villa in central Kiama instead. In 1993 we were about to leave for a trip to Europe, when we saw a small advertisement. It was for the auction of a stone cottage on two acres in the farming area between Albion Park and Macquarie Pass. It had been a teacher’s residence, was very run-down but with an attractive modern addition.

It was just what we had had in the back of our minds for the previous 40 years and in addition to the residence, were the ruins of the stone schoolhouse which had burnt down about 20 years before.

We made the agent an offer, said we would not negotiate and needed rapid agreement as we were due to go overseas. The owner, a Sydney architect, immediately accepted on condition that we exchanged contracts within three days. We discovered later that his reserve for the auction was $30,000 above our offer so we felt good about the price. (We also found out later that he needed money in a hurry as he was going through a difficult divorce. In retrospect, I think this may also have been to avoid our discovering the termites and dry rot, not that that would have dissuaded us). Kate organised the final settlement, as we were well overseas by the time the sale was complete.

In due course we discovered that, although the extension was imaginative and harmonised well with the 1881 section, the building skills left a great deal to be desired – there were already termites in the new section and dry rot in the old section where the under-floor ventilation had been blocked off.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 83 Marg and Ben in front of Tullimbar

Ben, Marg and Jacqueline Shaw in the garden

These were problems to be fixed which happened in due course and it was an excellent place to live for the next decade or so. Being roughly half-way between Kiama and Wollongong, we were able to keep up our various interests in both those places; we had very congenial neighbours in Joan and Derek Hentze at historic “Toongla” across the lane; there was open space everywhere; and we got involved with the energetic group running the local heritage society and museum, headed by Dot and Kevin Gillis, who also became good friends. Another plus was that the Federal MP, Colin Hollis, had his office at Albion Park Rail seven kilometres away and that continued to be a mutually useful place for both of us.

Marg with Hamish (left) and Matilda (right)

84 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Kirsty

The Ruin

Hamish in the schoolyard

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 85 Family Show in the Ruin

Performance in the Ruin

Perhaps the best of all was the provision for grandchildren. There was a two-acre paddock to roam around; a large thicket of jasmine to burrow into; the rediscovered concrete playground and the school ruins for acting and whatever. When we moved in, late 1993, there were now six grandchildren – Oscar, Christian, Sam, Bronwyn, Rosie and Arthur. Then Matilda was born in November 1994, Hamish in February 1995 and finally Kirsty in October 1997.

‘Bocce’ lawn – view north-west

While it was a great place to live, it probably would start to have problems for us as we got older – mowing two acres of grass, being three kilometres from the village, and much

86 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 further from medical and other services, so we did not see Tullimbar as our home for ever. We got a spur to move in 2005 when a Sydney doctor bought an adjoining farm and planned to turn it into a huge medical complex (hospital, research centre, aged care facility, obstetrics, etc). It was a grandiose scheme, some of it on flood-prone land, needing unlikely re-zoning by Council, which we would have helped to oppose if we had stayed. It seemed however better to move, so we advertised it for sale and held an open to view day. It looked its absolute best with a garden in full bloom and to our surprise it was sold within a week.

There was a sequel as the new owners, Mark Thurstan and partner Debbie, sent their small children to Kate’s pre-school at Jamberoo, introduced Mark’s brother Stephen to Kate, and Kate and Stephen are now married.

Water Works At Tullimbar

Town Water is a much underrated facility until you go to live beyond its reach. At Tullimbar, we had two old 5000 gallon (22,500 litre) concrete tanks, which were plenty, provided we didn’t want to water the garden much, except…

Our first year, 1995, was the driest since the droughts of the 1940s and the previous owners had almost drained the tanks. That was no problem as the Rural Fire Service made cash by filling them up, until a bureaucrat forbade that service (there was a minuscule chance that their water might become contaminated by smoke!).

Then one weekend our pump stopped working – Peter from Southern Pumps claimed that it had been struck by lightning.

Next, we went away for a weekend and the toilet continued to flush while we were absent, thus emptying the tanks.

We fixed that with an extension pipe from the water supply of our friendly Hentze neighbours (their water supply came from Yellow Rock Creek, way down in the gully). Unfortunately, the distance was too much for the Hentzes’ pump, which collapsed under the strain. Fortunately, our friendship with the Hentzes survived.

Next, after good filling rains, the Hentzes went away for a weekend. Just before leaving, Derek Hentze mowed his grass with his ride-on mower, listening to his Walkman as he mowed. Unwittingly, the mower bumped the tap to our pipe, turning it on. We came home at midnight to find our tanks overflowing and water cascading down our driveway. It was too dark to hunt for our tap till the next morning, when I went to hunt for it in the long unmown grass at the edge of Derek’s paddock. This was a difficult task as the Hentzes’ two large labradoodles saw me as an intruder invading while the master was away and the dogs and I had already established a relationship of mutual antipathy. I had to hunt in the long grass for the tap while at the same time keeping an eye on the two dogs, who would have pounced if I had not kept scowling at them.

Now that we are back in town, I am quite relaxed when Sydney Water refuses to read the meter because there is some grass growing over it.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 87 Receiving the Order of Australia Medal, 12 June 2000

88 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Looking after Wollongong’s Heritage

Wednesday, June 15, 2016 Three Long-Term Continuing Interests When we sold the property at Tullimbar, we moved back to Wollongong which was the focal point for three continuing interests that dated back to the 1980s. These were –Wollongong Council’s environment and heritage committee, the National Trust and the Old Courthouse at Wollongong Harbour. These three took up so much time over so long a period of time that I need to write at some length about them.

1. Wollongong Council’s environment and heritage committee Wollongong set up its first committee of councillors and community representatives to consider environment and heritage issues in 1980. This was an enthusiastic time when the State Government had a genuine interest in such matters and had passed the ground-changing Heritage Act 1977 . The first local committee was a joint initiative of the three councils – Wollongong, Kiama and Shellharbour – and I joined in 1982 when we were living in Kiama.

It has been through a number of changes of membership (Shellharbour and Kiama split off after a few years), changes of title, and changes in its charter. Around 1990 it became an advisory group instead of a more powerful committee of Council. It ceased to exist at all when the corrupt Council was elected in 2007. It was then revived with a new and more restrictive role when Council was run by administrators. In 2016 the State Government is trying to force Wollongong and Shellharbour Councils to amalgamate; if this succeeds, who knows whether our committee will survive.

In general, the move over the decades has been towards restricting the role and influence of the group and leaving such matters to the bureaucracy which seems to have more and more boxes to tick on environmental matters. But it has done a great deal of good work and has always provided a brake on over-enthusiastic Council plans that would damage our environment or heritage

One of its best activities was publishing Robert Irving’s invaluable book “Twentieth

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 89 Century Architecture in Wollongong”. It attempts to record the variety and quality of buildings in Wollongong from federation houses to contemporary architecture.

1. Thirty years of the National Trust in the Illawarra My second long-term interest is the National Trust. The National Trust of Australia (NSW), to give it its full name, was established in 1945 but it was not till 40 years later, in August, 1985, that it set up locally, the Illawarra Shoalhaven Branch of the Trust. This was fortuitous for me as I was about to retire and became its first Chair. I was followed by a series of competent Chairs over the next 30 years, each of whom brought different but special qualities that have kept it lively and active – King Bond, Peter Costigan, Jim Piper, Meredith Hutton and since 2015 Andrew Conacher.

1985 was a good time for the Trust generally as there was plenty of public interest and government funding for heritage leading up to the 1988 bicentenary of European settlement in Australia. We started with enthusiasm and attracted a wide range of people. Our first secretary was Doreen Turnbull. With 19 years as Deputy Principal of SCEGGS at Gleniffer Brae (Sydney Church of England Girls’ Grammar School) and 10 years at the University, she was well-regarded everywhere. Our first Vice-Chair was the equally respected Bob Pearson, ex-Alderman and retired General Manager of MM (Metal Manufactures Ltd). We had sub-committees working enthusiastically – assessing sites, workshops, tours, house inspections, industrial heritage, catering, talks to other groups.

The Branch in 1987 sought a major project and decided to fund-raise to rescue the decaying Old Wollongong Courthouse from the Navy, restore it and set up an environment and heritage centre. The Branch soon raised $12,000 but it turned out to be a difficult long-term struggle. There was essential help from politicians and others, but our Branch and its members did the initial fund-raising and were a vital part of further fund- raising and the considerable management and physical labour of restoration.

The NSW National Trust struck hard times in 1989 when there was a major blow-up. Briefly, our central State Board was in financial difficulties and decided to fix them by selling a 99-year lease of its flagship property, “Lindsay” at Darling Point. This enraged the Trust’s powerful Women’s Committee. (It had organised the bequest of this property to the Trust and held its meetings there.) They took the matter to court, the court proceedings revealed that the Trust was technically insolvent, the Board was sacked and an administrator was appointed.

When the Trust was returned to normal management, there was inevitably much discord in the Trust, now headed by the energetic and committed Judge Barry O’Keefe (also head of ICAC). The conservative Barry and the progressive Executive Director, Elsa Atkin, were a great team in bringing reconciliation over the next years.

Our branch managed to weather the storm. All the Trust’s regional committees had lost their funds but I managed to preserve our $12,000 Old Courthouse fund, which later became the base for that project.

When the NSW National Trust started to get itself together after that crisis and review all its activities, it set up a “task force” in 1990 to look at all its 40 properties and I was a member of this group

I had always believed that too much of the Trust’s energy and finance went into looking after this big property portfolio to the detriment of its other work – promoting heritage and

90 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 environment, education, and helping the community against developers and unsympathetic governments. (I was consistent on this matter. In the 1990s, when we succeeded in getting the Old Courthouse out of the clutches of the Navy and the Federal Government, I ensured that it went to Wollongong Council, not to the National Trust.)

Our Task Force visited every one of the 40 properties except the remote one at Wentworth and recommended that half of them should be sold or otherwise disposed of. Our recommendations did not get far at the time – the Trust sold only one, and another burnt down – but over the years has somewhat reduced its portfolio.

National Trust Honorary Life Membership Citation for Ben Meek

There was occasional tension between our Branch and headquarters in Sydney, usually on financial matters or my views on the Trust’s over-emphasis on its properties, but they recognised our Branch as a good one, and in 2000 made me an honorary life member, something which I treasure.

Thirty years on, the Branch is still vigorous and working on new ways and at times entertaining ways to promote and celebrate our heritage – including in 2016, the now traditional annual Vintage Bazaar, guided walks especially around the reviving Wentworth Street, Port Kembla, and the varied lectures and tours of the current Chair under his P G Wodehouse title of Darcy Cheesewright.

1. Restoring the Old Courthouse – a long hard road The third of these long-term continuing interests is the Old Courthouse at Wollongong Harbour. This is Wollongong’s oldest surviving public building, dating from 1858, when the harbour was the centre of the town. It has had many uses (courthouse, customs office, army depot, drill hall, sea scouts base). It was greatly loved by the community and encapsulated much of Wollongong’s history. It was in a sad state of decay in 1987 when our campaign to return it to public use began – rising damp, falling damp, sideways damp, squalid grounds.

When the regional branch of the National Trust decided that the Old Courthouse was its project, we were advised by the NSW Heritage Office that we should find a different project. The Australian armed services, they said, had been in occupation since 1904

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 91 (first the Army, then since 1974 the Navy) and getting them out of prepared positions of such long standing was not practicable. They were probably right, but we ignored their advice and ultimately succeeded.

Our first task was to find alternative accommodation for the occupants. In 1987 these occupants were the teenage Naval Reserve Cadets, 20 or so of them. Wollongong Harbour was a most unsuitable place for them, the permissible area for them was not much longer than their training boats. Neither they nor their seemingly incapable management had either capacity or energy to find a more suitable site. So we had to do it for them.

By enlisting the enthusiastic support of all our local and federal politicians, we achieved this, and got an allocation from the Federal Labor Government of $800,000 for a new building for them. Meanwhile, Lord Mayors Frank Arkell and David Campbell and MP Colin Hollis and his staff also provided the essential skills of fighting through the bureaucracy to get the Old Courthouse site transferred to Wollongong Council.

Article in Northern Wollongong News, 23 March 1995

When stories of the court house restoration appeared in the local news in 1995, it seemed that eight years of effort had been successful but it was still another four years before we could move in and get on with the restoration.

What should, at the end of 1995, have been plain sailing turned out to be more complicated. The new Liberal Federal Government in 1996 had vowed to economise and I assumed (fortunately incorrectly) that the first item in their Razor Gang List would be the $800,000 quarters for 20-odd teenage Cadets in a safe Labor seat like Cunningham, based on Wollongong. To my surprise, our project survived John Howard’s razor gang but then the Cadets got delusions of grandeur and wanted more than the Grant would provide. They argued so long for something like the Taj Mahal that the grant was again in danger. Enter Gino Mandarino from the Office of our Federal Member for Throsby, Colin Hollis. To use his own phrase, Gino knocked their heads together and there was no further problem. The slow process of planning and building their new quarters began.

92 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Ben Meek and King Bond in front of Court House, Wollongong

In the meantime, the Federal Government had sold the Old Courthouse to Wollongong City Council for $1, and Council leased it to our committee for 21 years at $1 per annum (if requested), on the assumption that we would restore it and run it. This left us free to find funds and supporters to achieve our dream and turn the Old Courthouse into a Heritage and Environment Centre for Wollongong.

One reason we got such strong support from the politicians was that we already had significant funds – the $12,000 raised by the local branch of the National Trust. Another was that we had carried out a survey on potential users of the building which gave us the basis of what would now be called a management plan. This showed that we would be able to run a financially viable community facility.

We then got a quantity surveyor’s estimate of the cost of restoration and renovation, which was $230,114. On the basis of this, the NSW Heritage Office gave us a grant of $115,000, half the estimated cost. For the project, we had myself as project manager, Andrew Conacher as consulting heritage architect and Peter Costigan as clerk of works.

Coffee & Quilts fundraiser

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 93 National Trust Cameo Committee fundraiser

We had to find the other half of the cost, either by more donations, fund-raising, and our own sweated labour. Wollongong City Council provided $8,000 worth of site ground works. Great money-spinners were dinners with celebrity guest speakers (Hazel Hawke, Ian Keirnan, Jack Mundey) and raffles of my wife Marg’s quilts.

There was some embarrassment with the raffle of one of Marg’s best quilts. I had the job of drawing the winning ticket but unfortunately I drew my own ticket – it would look odd if I kept the quilt, it might look odd if I didn’t want to keep Marg’s quilt. I decided it was best to re-draw.

Another problem dinner was the one with Hazel Hawke as the guest speaker. At this time she was the Chair of the NSW Heritage Council and very generous with her time, asking no more than that we provided overnight accommodation at the Novotel Hotel. That was easy, except that we had to check which floor she was booked on – her less generous ex-husband, Bob Hawke, was also staying at the Hotel giving the Richard Kirby annual lecture at the University, and getting both accommodation and a large fee.

2011 Illawarra Mercury Weekender feature on the Old Court House, l-to-r Ben Meek, Peter Costigan and Meredith Hutton

A large part of the restoration work was done by volunteers, many of them ageing people like Marg and myself and John Bell. Peter Costigan took responsibility for the practical

94 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 work, even spending most of his six months long-service leave working on the project. Peter also became Chair of the management committee and is still in that role in 2016 nearly 20 years on.

The initial planning was well done – from the beginning several rooms were rented out (one to the National Trust) and usage of the main hall was immediately popular with a wide range of community groups. It has been so successful that every weekend for 2017 is already booked, mainly for art exhibitions. Its popularity also means that each year there is an operational surplus, enough for us to do all the maintenance on the site – in 2016, this included a complete re-paint of the outside including the outside buildings, all in the genuine Department of Works colours of its construction date, 1858.

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 95 Return to Wollongong (and its corrupt City Council)

Monday, June 20, 2016 Selling the house at Tullimbar happened so quickly that Marg and I for the first time in our married lives were homeless. For a few weeks we reversed the usual course of action as followed by King Lear, and moved in with our children, first with Linda, then with Jamie and Helen.

Ben and Marg at Holmden Avenue, Mangerton

In December, 2006, we found Holmden Avenue, Mangerton, described accurately by the real estate agent as “a diamond in the rough.”

What we had been looking for was a brick house (no more termites for us), easy walk to shops including a coffee shop, plenty of north sun and warmth, in good order and with no need to renovate. It ticked none of those boxes, but strangely the “diamond in the rough” turned out to be a good place to live – once we rewired, re-plumbed, re-painted, removed 76 small stick-on mirrors and several chandeliers, installed a new kitchen and bathroom, added air-conditioning, removed loads of monsteras and other dense plantings from the garden, replaced fences, and fixed other miscellaneous items.

Heather, now 96, made a valiant effort and came from Canberra to check out our new house

Although it was it was 26 years since we had actually lived in Wollongong, it was in some ways like returning home. Linda and Jamie and their families were there and it was great

96 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 to be able to see much more of Christian, Bronwyn and Hamish. Kiama and Tullimbar had not been far away, and we had maintained many friendships and other contacts in Wollongong.

New Activities

Receiving Lifeline Award

University Fellows 2003

Receiving University Fellowship

Moving back to Wollongong in 2006 allowed us to maintain the three long-term interests described in the previous chapter but also allowed us to develop some new interests. We both became regular attenders at Wollongong U3A, where I give an occasional talk, usually on a subject I know little about, so that I have to research it. Marg became

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 97 involved with the Wollongong Garden Club. At Linda’s suggestion, I have joined Life Line’s book-sorting and pricing and regular Book Fairs and this keeps me busy with a companionable group every Tuesday. I also started to have some contact with the University through the group of Fellows and honorary academics. (Somewhat to my surprise, in 2003 seventeen years after retiring, I had been made a Fellow of the University.)

Travel

Croft ruins, Shetland Islands

Marg, Claude Monet’s Garden at Giverney

Liz, Glenn, Marg, Etruscan Tomb of the Lion Chiusi, Italy

Like most retirees, we have had plenty of time for travel ever since our retirement in 1985, the details of which are of more interest to us than to others – except for our visits to the remote Shetland Islands. The reason for going to this cold, treeless region was that

98 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Marg’s great-grandmother, the first Margaret Shakespeare (nee Brown) came to Australia from Shetland with her parents in 1856, aged 15. We were able to find the ruins of the croft from which those hardy people came, no longer occupied, except for a couple of cows.

Ageing Activists Also to our surprise, this was not the start of a quiet suburban retirement and we found ourselves in our late seventies to be ageing activists, thanks to an excessively developer- friendly Council, mostly on issues affecting Wollongong’s built heritage.

Back in Wollongong, the city had been run for some years by General Manager Rod Oxley, now described as CEO. Rod had created what ICAC (the Independent Commission Against Corruption) investigation described as “a climate of corruption”. The Council elected in 2005, on Rod’s advice, had no advisory groups from the community and Rod in due course took direct responsibility for town planning. With his enthusiasm for development, planning rules were often overruled and the demolition of heritage buildings loved by the community became a regular threat.

This led to a series of community protests, most of which Marg and I got involved.

The Regent Cinema saved from demolition

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 99 The first protest campaign, which preceded our return to Wollongong, was to save the Regent Theatre, an opulent local treasure of considerable aesthetic and motion-picture history significance. A local developer planned to demolish it to provide the car-park for a new supermarket. Some of us members of the National Trust letter-boxed Central Wollongong and organised a protest meeting, a very active community group was formed and the Regent was saved. It became a church and it still has the old movie theatre days “what’s on today” box outside.

Next it was the turn of the greatly loved but somewhat decaying Northbeach Pavilion which dated from 1938. Very briefly, Council approved a recommendation from one of Rod’s town-planners, Beth Morgan, that one of her lovers, Frank Vella, should get a lease of the building. This lease was to be free for 15 years with a further 15 years at half- economic rental, with permission to build five restaurants, no Section 96 contributions, and no requirement to provide customer parking in that already crowded precinct. In exchange for this largesse, he was to renovate the existing building. Relations in Wollongong in those times were complex and, as it happened, Frank Vella was also a major donor to our Wollongong MP, Noreen Hay. The community campaign, masterminded by Trevor Mott (who later became a regular coffee companion) initially failed but the Vella proposal was so outrageous that it became one of the main catalysts for the sacking of the Council and the ICAC investigation.

The next campaign was to save the Town Hall. By this time, the Government on ICAC advice had dismissed the corrupt Council and installed administrators. Rod Oxley had retired but most of the rest of the staff were unchanged and we had a new General Manager. He vigorously supported the proposed demolition of the Town Hall. The idea was to demolish it, give the site to a local developer to build a ten-storey block, in which

100 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Council would get one floor.

This enraged not only the National Trust but almost the entire Wollongong community and especially the South Coast Labour Council and the arts community – the Town Hall housed possibly the best pipe organ in Australia. The National Trust organised a free protest organ recital that attracted 900 people; Irene and Keith Tognetti got their famous violinist son Richard to play the organ to the Administrators and the destruction was avoided. At one big rally against that plan, Marg,who had just had a hip replacement, bravely appeared with a walking-stick but she was upstaged by a very old woman in a wheelchair and a placard which read: “I’m 95 years old and they’ll want to demolish me next.”

Unfinished Business Attacks on our heritage and environment are still going on, and there are at least two unfinished issues for Wollongong which may well lead to more protests – Gleniffer Brae and Wollongong Harbour.

“Get off our backs”

The Gleniffer Brae story was a plan hatched by Council and the University to dispose of what is one of Wollongong’s most significant sites. Their plan was for Council to sell to the University half the site outright for $1.2 million, (this was about one hectare and the estimated potential value was $6 to 9 million). On this the University would build a huge 10,000 sq.m building, of which a small section would house the Wollongong Conservatorium. The University would lease the remaining hectare or so, including the well-maintained Hoskins 1938 residence, for $2,500 a year, or a remarkably generous $50 a week. This would have been the real estate bargain of the decade for the University, quite apart from the fact that it would deny the local community access to a greatly loved site, threaten part of the Botanic Gardens and dwarf the Manor House.

On behalf of the National Trust, Meredith Hutton and I had met with the Vice-Chancellor, Gerard Sutton, to explain the community’s concerns and how the University could change the plans to meet those concerns. We were ignored and what followed was vigorous community opposition which stopped their overgenerous plan. Gerard thought, quite erroneously, that I was the mastermind behind this community action. Soon after, I was dressed up in my University Fellows robes (for the first and only time) in the impressive procession for granddaughter Bronwyn’s graduation. Vice-Chancellor Gerard Sutton after the ceremony was bowing and smiling at everyone, then he saw me, the smile was replaced by a scowl, over he came and snarled: “When are you going to get off our backs ?”

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 101 Glennifer Brae’s future is still in limbo.

Wollongong and its Harbour

Wollongong Harbour

Another bit of unfinished business is Wollongong Harbour. Tony Kelly, was the unlamented Minister for Harbours, Heritage and much else in the then morally corrupt NSW Labor State Government. He had plans to make money out of our harbour.

It was a working harbour with slipway, repair facilities, the only maritime refuelling site between Sydney and Ulladulla and many other users, but he planned to get rid of the current users and lease out the site for two- and four-storey Disneyland-type shops, with maritime themes.

He found however against him perhaps the biggest coalition that Wollongong has ever seen – the National Trust, the South Coast Labour Council, its offshoot Reclaim our City, the Fishermen’s Cooperative, the tourist vessel operators, and the recreational users (kayakers, canoeists and others). Wollongong Council had been sacked for corruption shortly before and was run by Administrators but even the sometimes developer-friendly administrator, the formidable Gabrielle Kibble, opposed his plans. He couldn’t proceed against all that and in any case the State Government was defeated in the 2010 elections and nothing has happened since. But like Gleniffer Brae’s, its future is still in limbo.

Family Matters While we were settling happily back into Wollongong, a lot was happening in the family. In some ways it was like a replay of family events of 30 or so years before, except it was now the grandchildren rather than our children who were leaving school, getting trained, starting work, forming personal relationships.

102 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Kate, Jamie, Simon and Linda

Kate, Jamie, Simon and Linda, now

Starting with Oscar in 2002, the older grandchildren were leaving school, going into tertiary education and starting work. At the end of 2015, the youngest, Kirsty, finished Year 12. (And in 2016, our eldest great-grandchild started school.)

back l-r Roxy, Arthur, Kirsty, Oscar, Bek, Sam (and baby Pippa), Gemma front l-r Anouk, Frank

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 103 Ben and Frank

back l-r Ethan, Bek, Oscar, Anouk front l-r Frank, Maggie

Some of the grandchildren were getting married, as was one of our daughters. Sam and Gemma had a big wedding at Millthorpe; Oscar and Bek had one at Orange. One Friday after a family dinner, daughter Kate and boyfriend Stephen announced they were eloping. Some time later, Christian announced that he ‘had followed the family tradition’ and secretly married Rebecca. And, in September 2016, Hamish and LaTonya married.

104 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Kate and Stephen

Rose and Matilda

Ben and Juliette

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 105 Bronwyn’s Graduation

Christian and Juliette

Linda, Sassi di Matera, Italy

106 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 Ben, LaTonya, Hamish & Marg

Some were having children. Oscar already had two step-children, Ethan and Anouk, and then our first great-grandchild, Frank, was born on 27 April, 2010. The year 2014 was a busy year for great-grandchildren – Sam and Gemma’s Philippa on 29 March; Oscar and Bek’s Maggie on 17 October; and Christian and Rebecca’s Juliette as a remarkable Christmas present for us all on 25 December.

Sam and Gemma’s Wedding

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 107 Sam and Pip

Simon and Pip

Pip

So there is now a whole new generation of Meeks (and two Salmon-Meeks, Frank and Maggie) whose progress we can watch with enthusiasm. According to the demographers,

108 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 these great-grandchildren all have a good chance of living until the 22 nd Century.

Michael Meek

Heather Shakespeare

Meanwhile, Marg and I became indisputably part of the older generation in 2008, when her step-mother the indomitable Heather Shakespeare (née Cameron) died, aged 99. In the following year my brother Mike also died, aged 82 after many years of determinedly keeping oesophagus and lung cancer at bay.

There are not so many now in the older generation. On my side there is Mike’s widow, Thea, 89, and two of my original 15 first cousins, Anne in Melbourne and Nina at Barry (next door to Hobbys Yards) who became the family’s first centenarian on 22 January, 2016. On Marg’s side there is still sister Liz and her husband Glenn and five cousins (David Patten, Barb Denley, Max Carter, Mary Middlebrook and George Dowling).

THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 109 60th Wedding Anniversary Celebration, Leura 2015

The march of time was underlined on 19 February, 2015 when we had our 60th wedding anniversary, a great celebration at Leura, with special placemats.

Not the End?

In July 2016, Marg and I are took the Long Fast Emirates Road to Paris and Wales for a month, so this marks a possible ending of the Long Wide Road to 87.

110 THE LONG WIDE ROAD TO 87 111 0103365097 Non-customer created content © XanEdu and its licensors. All rights reserved by their respective parties. Patents pending POWERED BY for the XanEdu technology. NOT FOR RESALE. For personal, noncommercial use only. LIABILITY LIMITED TO COST OF PRODUCT.