The fall of Archibald Clunes Innes

In 1840, Port Macquarie’s Archibald Clunes Innes was at the height of his wealth and power with stores, pastoral runs and real estate holdings on the coast and across the New England. Now he faced economic storms of cyclonic proportions.   

Opposition to transportation had been rising, driven in part by the growing number of free workers especially in Sydney who saw the convicts as an economic threat, in part by those who believed that continued transportation was incompatible with the development of a free colony.

Aberglasslyn House outside Maitland is an example of the rise and falls associated with the crash of the early 1840s. This monumental Georgian pile designed by architect John Verge for George Hobler, remained unfinished following Hoblers insolvency in the crash.

In face of protests, transportation to NSW was suspended in 1840. Innes had built his wealth in part on access to convict labour to service his growing empire. Now he and other squatters faced labour shortages together with rising wage costs, leading to a search for new workers.

 Later in the decade, this would bring the first Chinese and German workers to New England, but the initial effects were severe. However, these were the least of Innes’s problems.

Over the 1820s and 1830s NSW experienced a sustained economic boom.

High wool prices fueled pastoral expansion which in turn inflated stock prices. The previously small European population grew from 7,040 in 1807 to 28,024 in 1820, to over 44,000 in 1830, passing 127,000 in 1847, inflating real estate prices. Land sales inflated Government revenues that were used in part to fund immigration.

 Growth required capital drawn heavily from English investors and the London capital market, fueling the growing boom. Fortunes were being made from speculation in stock and real estate, fortunes invested in further speculation and in the construction of the first grand homes including Lake Innes House. Now all this came to a shuddering halt.  

 In 1837, a speculation fueled US boom part fueled by English capital crashed. This led to a financial crisis in England in 1839, drying up the capital that had been fueling the NSW boom.

Wool prices dropped sharply as did live stock prices, a fall accentuated by the ending of the rapid pastoral expansion that had driven up prices as stock was purchased to stock the new runs. Government revenues from land sales fell sharply, creating a Government financial crisis.

The end result was a rolling series of bankruptcies among those who most exposed to the boom including that of merchant, pastoralist and steamship owner Joseph Grose in 1844. Grose’s spread of interests made him a considerable figure in the early colonial history of Northern NSW’

 Innes could not escape the turmoil. Initially he seems to have refinanced his operations using family money. But then, in 1843, the collapse of a large Sydney based pastoral house led to the collapse of a major local bank that would finally force Innes into bankruptcy. An era had ended.

Archibald Clunes Innes, a major figure in New England's early colonial history, reflects the the rise and fall of Port Macquarie

Lake Innes House, Port Macquarie, 1839, where Archibald Clunes Innes entertained in lavish style.

The rise and subsequent decline of Port Macquarie from the centre of British civilization in the North to quiet backwater is captured in the rise and fall of one man, Archibald Clunes Innes. His story tells us much about New England’s early colonial history.  

Innes (1800-1857)  was born at Thrumster, Scotland, the son of Major James Innes, a distinguished soldier. At thirteen, he joined the army as an ensign, serving in the Peninsular War against Napoleon. 

Innes arrived in Sydney in 1822 as captain of the guard in the convict ship Eliza. There he quickly moved up the colonial hierarchy, including six months as commandant of the Port Macquarie penal colony. 

In 1829 at one of the most magnificent weddings that the colony had then seen, Innes married Margaret, daughter of the colonial secretary, Alexander McLeay. 

McLeay, the builder of Sydney icon Elizabeth Bay House, was one of Sydney’s wealthiest and most prominent men. The Macleay River carries his name. 

Having resigned his commission in 1829, Innes became police magistrate at Port Macquarie in 1830 and was granted 2568 acres (1039 ha) of land and contracts to supply the convict population with food.

By 1840, Innes was one of the wealthiest men in the colony. 

Working from his initial base, he had acquired sheep and cattle stations all over Northern New South Wales, among them Yarrows on the Hastings, Brimbine and Innestown on the Manning, Waterloo, Innes Creek, Kentucky and Beardy Plains on the Tablelands. His acquisition of Furracabad and the creation of the store on that station would provide the base for the development of Glen Innes. 

To support his growing empire he created stores, would build the first convict built road onto the Tablelands and began exporting wool from Port Macquarie to Sydney. In his mind, I think, he saw Port Macquarie developing as a major commercial centre and port servicing the New England. 

As a sign of his growing wealth, Innes used convict labour to build Lake Innes House, a grand new home suitable to his aspirations. There he entertained lavishly supported by staff including a butler, musicians, maids and stable hands. The staff included New England’s first Spanish settlers. 

As Innes’s interests developed, Port Macquarie became an immigration centre bringing in new and especially Scottish settlers who would move onto the Tablelands. Among those who came were his cousin William Tydd Taylor and wife Margaretta Lucy Lind who would take up what became known as Terrible Vale Station.  

Archibald Clunes Innes was now at the peak of wealth and power, but disaster lay ahead. 

Note to readers: This post was prepared as a column for the on-line edition of the Armidale Express. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015,  here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018, here 2019, here 2020, here 2021 

Port Macquarie: the centre of British civilization in the north

Port Macquarie, 1832, by convict artist Joseph Backler.

I wonder how many New Englanders know that for more than a decade Port Macquarie was the centre of British civilization on Northern NSW? 

Maitland (1829) together with its adjoining river port at Morpeth (1831) would develop into the largest urban conglomeration in the North, but this still lay ahead. 

The penal colony at Newcastle had been established in 1804 as a place of secondary punishment for re-offending convicts, but problems soon emerged. 

Newcastle was just too close to the Sydney fleshspots, to accessible by land, providing the incentive and means for absconding. There was also pressure to open up the Hunter for European settlement. 

There were initial land grants under Governor Macquarie, but these were limited to small grants to ex-convicts. However, further south the settlers on the Hawkesbury and in the Sydney Basin were seeking new pastures for their growing flocks and herds. As a consequence, the Hunter was opened up for European settlement in 1822. 

Explorer John Oxley had discovered and named Port Macquarie in 1818. This seemed a suitable site for a new penal colony to replace Newcastle, although Macquarie was initially uncertain. Finally, in 1821 the decision was made to proceed. 

In seeking to discover that far country called the past, we are all bound by current mind-sets in ways that we do not always understand. Port Macquarie is a case in point. 

I had always thought of Port Macquarie as a minor penal settlement founded from and close to Sydney, something equivalent to the establishment of the jail at Grafton many years later. The reality is different.

To begin with, the number or convicts sent to Port Macquarie was roughly similar in scale to those sent to Port Jackson in the early days. This was not a small settlement.

Like Port Jackson, convicts were expected to build the necessary infrastructure including barracks required to support the colony. Like Port Jackson, they were expected to grow their own food. And like Port Jackson, the Government was interested in exports from the new colony that might yield economic gain. 

The new colony was expected to be a punishment colony, a feared place of secondary punishment. But to accommodate the needs of the new colony, convicts volunteering to build Port Macquarie were offered special treatment.

Later, convicts sent to Port Macquarie were also granted special privileges in the treatment of things such as their own gardens. This, too, had happened at Port Jackson, but it created a fundamental problem. This can be put simply.

Port Macquarie was a place of secondary punishment, a place to be feared. How, then, do your reconcile the special treatment required to establish and then maintain the colony?

There were no easy answers to this question. It led to fluctuating treatment of the convicts as official balance switched between punishment and remediation. Meantime, a new town had emerged. 

Note to readers: This post was prepared as a column for the on-line edition of the Armidale Express. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015,  here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018, here 2019, here 2020, here 2021 

New England History: Battle of Vinegar Hill led to northern settlement

One difficulty that I have faced as a regional historian specialising in the broader new state New England, the Tablelands and surrounding river valleys, is the absence of regional historical syntheses that allow us to fit our family, local and regional stories into a context. Everything is dominated by national or state stories or by very broad thematic studies that have only limited relevance to our own stories. 

 This absence has forced me to develop my own syntheses to provide a framework for my research. In past columns I have talked about Aboriginal New England to 1788. Over the next few columns I want to talk about our colonial history, starting with the penal period. Think of it as a primer into which you can fit your own research!

The first fleet arrived in 1788. In 1801, thirteen years later, a first attempt was made to establish a penal colony at the mouth of the Hunter. The attractions were the presence of coal, timber and the large shell middens that might provide lime for building. This first attempt failed.

 In 1804 a second successful attempt was made.

 On 4 March 1804, 233 Irish convicts launched a rebellion against British authority. The following day a force consisting of a mixture of military personnel and armed civilians defeated the rebels in a pitched battle at Castle Hill near Sydney.

This battle is sometimes called the second battle of Vinegar Hill named after an earlier uprising in Ireland for some of the prisoners who participated in the NSW uprising had been exiled as a consequence of their participation in the Irish uprising.

 Fifteen convicts were killed, nine were later executed, while 23 formed the core of a new penal colony established at Coal River, now Newcastle. There were no casualties on the British side.

 From the beginning, the new penal colony was seen as a place of secondary punishment that would also reduce the chances of the convicts escaping. This proved to be a forlorn hope. The fleshpots of Port Jackson were just too close.

 In the end, three penal colonies were established in Northern New South Wales each initially intended as a place of secondary punishment: 

• Newcastle 1801, 1804-1823
• Port Macquarie 1821-1830 
•  Moreton Bay 1824 – 1842.

The reference to Moreton Bay may surprise, but Moreton Bay now Queensland was part of Northern NSW until Queensland gained self-government in 1859.

These three penal stations formed part of an integrated network of penal stations that would include Port Jackson, Van Diemen’s Land and Norfolk Island.

There was a constant flow of convicts between the different penal colonies, while each had to be serviced by shipping bringing in supplies while exporting local production. This laid the base for the coastal shipping network that form such an important part of New England’s history.

Of the three Northern penal colonies, Port Macquarie would have the greatest impact on New England’s history. I will turn to its story in my next column.

Note to readers: This post was prepared as a column for the on-line edition of the Armidale Express. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015,  here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018, here 2019, here 2020, here 2021 

Indigenous Australians' right to vote and the 1967 constitutional referendum

Neville Bonner was the first Aboriginal member of the Australian Parliament, appointed to the Senate for the Liberal Party to fill a Queensland vacancy, in 1971.

There is a common view that Indigenous Australians’ right to vote is somehow connected with the 1967 constitutional referendum. That’s not correct. The story is far longer and more complex than that. 

In the 1850s under the constitutions of Victoria, New South Wales and South Australia, Aboriginal men had the same right to vote as other male British subjects aged over 21. 

In 1895 South Australia became the first jurisdiction in the world to give women the vote including Aboriginal women. Then in 1896 Tasmania granted Aboriginal men the franchise.

There were countervailing pressures to these advances. .

In 1885, a law was passed in Queensland to deny Aboriginal people the right to vote. Similar legislation was later enacted by Western Australia (1893) and the Northern Territory (1922). These were the jurisdictions where the frontier was most recent, the Aboriginal proportion of the population highest. 

With Federation, the 1902 Commonwealth Franchise Act granted men and women of all states the right to vote. Indigenous people were excluded from this right unless they already had the right to vote before 1901. This Act effectively institutionalised discrimination at national level so far as the franchise was concerned. 

As had happened during the First World War, a number of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders served with the Australian military. In March 1949, the right to vote in federal elections was extended to any Indigenous person who had been a member of the defence forces. 

Within the states and territories, the “Dog Collar Acts” applying in some jurisdictions affected voting. These Acts exempted Indigenous people under strict conditions from the restrictions placed upon them. Effectively, Aboriginal people had to be granted “citizenship” to be able to vote. Again, the restrictions were greatest in WA, Queensland and Northern Territory.

Finally, in 1962 following report by a House of Representatives Select Committee, legislation was passed giving all Aboriginal people the right to enrol and vote in national elections.  Enrolment was not compulsory, but voting was if enrolled.

Following this, legislation, Western Australia and the Northern Territory granted Aboriginal people the right to vote. Then, in 1965, Queensland finally extended the right to vote to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people.

In 1984, voting at Federal level was made compulsory for all Indigenous Australians, removing the last difference.  

Note to readers: This post was prepared as a column for the on-line edition of the Armidale Express. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015,  here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018, here 2019, here 2020, here 2021 

Historical climate change on the Arabian peninsular, hominin occupation and the pattern of Aboriginal settlement of Sahul

The second lecture in my introductory course on the history of Australia's New England, the Tablelands and surrounding river valleys, traces the journey of the Aboriginal and Papuan ancestors from Africa until their arrival on the mega continent we now call Sahul. 

On 1 September 2021 an article by H S Groucutt et al was published in Nature that bears upon our story. The abstract including link to the paper follows. Comments follow the abstract.  

Pleistocene hominin dispersals out of, and back into, Africa necessarily involved traversing the diverse and often challenging environments of Southwest Asia. Archaeological and palaeontological records from the Levantine woodland zone document major biological and cultural shifts, such as alternating occupations by Homo sapiens and Neanderthals. However, Late Quaternary cultural, biological and environmental records from the vast arid zone that constitutes most of Southwest Asia remain scarce, limiting regional-scale insights into changes in hominin demography and behaviour. Here we report a series of dated palaeolake sequences, associated with stone tool assemblages and vertebrate fossils, from the Khall Amayshan 4 and Jubbah basins in the Nefud Desert. These findings, including the oldest dated hominin occupations in Arabia, reveal at least five hominin expansions into the Arabian interior, coinciding with brief ‘green’ windows of reduced aridity approximately 400, 300, 200, 130–75 and 55 thousand years ago. Each occupation phase is characterized by a distinct form of material culture, indicating colonization by diverse hominin groups, and a lack of long-term Southwest Asian population continuity. Within a general pattern of African and Eurasian hominin groups being separated by Pleistocene Saharo-Arabian aridity, our findings reveal the tempo and character of climatically modulated windows for dispersal and admixture.

Groucutt, H.S., White, T.S., Scerri, E.M.L. et al. Multiple hominin dispersals into Southwest Asia over the past 400,000 years. Nature (2021). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41586-021-03863-y

Comment

To the best of our present knowledge, the ancestors of the Aboriginal and Papuan peoples came out of Africa arriving in Sahul perhaps 65,000 years ago. This was during the Pleistocene, a period marked by ice ages separated by warmer periods. 

Today, Saudi Arabia is marked by arid deserts. This study suggests that the Arabian Peninsula experienced wetter green periods approximately 400, 300, 200, 130–75 and 55 thousand years ago. Each period was marked by different hominin occupations, with people withdrawing and reoccupying as the climate changed. 

From our viewpoint, the green period from 130-75,000 years ago would appear to fit with Aboriginal migration patterns given the present earliest indicated occupation date of c65,000 years ago.  

Postscript 

 An article in the Conversation  provides more commentary. Research reveals humans ventured out of Africa repeatedly as early as 400,000 years ago, to visit the rolling grasslands of Arabia  

Armidale's buildings mirror the city's history

Laying of the foundation stone for the Armidale Teachers' College Building.This is the fifth in a series exploring the rise, fall and slow recovery of the city of Armidale.  

The story of Armidale’s rise, fall and slow recovery is mirrored in the city’s built landscape. 

The city’s expansion over the last two decades of the nineteenth century is mirrored in the large generally brick homes and commercial buildings concentrated in the CBD and on South Hill. While little evidence remains of Armidale’s manufacturing base, the generally weatherboard workmen’s cottages built for industrial and railway workers remain, especially in West Armidale. 

By the mid twenties, the still small city was prosperous enough, although growth had stalled. Then in 1927 came the decision to establish the Armidale Teachers’ College. 

I explored the remarkable story of its establishment in an earlier series of columns. For the present, it brought staff and students to Armidale that compensated many times over for the 1926 shift of St John’s Theological College to Morpeth. 

Construction also began on one of Armidale’s most iconic buildings, the Parthenon on the Hill.  

In 1929 the Great Depression struck. Around Australia, a third of the workforce lost their jobs. 

Even as depression struck, construction of the new college building was pushed ahead, pumping money into the local economy. There were fears that the College might close, but the project was too far advanced. 

Staff and student numbers were cut, but then recovered as the depression began to ease. Armidale grew from 4,738 people in 1922 to 6,794 in 1933. 

In terms of the built landscape, the 1920s saw the emergence of the California bungalow that forms such an important part of the Armidale streetscape. Then, in the 1930s, came the art deco period seen in some Beardy Street buildings in particular as increased wealth translated into new or modified buildings. 

We now come to the most important development of all, the establishment of the New England University College (NEUC), opening in 1938. 

Like the Teachers’ College, the establishment of NEUC came about because of a combination of particular events external to Armidale. 

Yes, funding from particular New England families such as the Whites was critical. Yes, the local organising committee played a critical role. Yes, Armidale’s existing educational structure was important. 

But all these things would have failed had it not been for a basic fact: as with the Armidale Teachers’ College, the new university college was seen as a Northern endeavour, one that drew support from across Northern NSW. 

In my next column I will carry the story through into Armidale’s rapid growth period. 

Note to readers: This post was prepared as a column for the on-line edition of the Armidale Express. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015,  here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018, here 2019, here 2020, here 2021 

The railway gave but took away - Armidale's manufacturing decline

In this Armidale panoramic view in 1922 some of Armidale's major buildings can be seen, but the main growth period lies ahead. This is the fourth in a series exploring the rise, fall and slow recovery of the city of Armidale.  

Without the coming of the railway to Armidale in 1883, the city could not have maintained its developing position as an educational centre. The railway also became a major local employer. But while the railway gave it also took away.

It is hard now to think of Armidale as a manufacturing centre, but by the coming of the railway it had developed its own small industrial base spreading to the west near the junction of Martin’s Gully and Dumaresq Creek and then along Dumaresq Creek towards the centre of the city. In all cases, access to water was central.

Industries included tanning, boot manufacturing, soap making, blacksmithing, brewing and flour milling. To the south and west of Armidale lay a belt of farming territory that fed grains to the local mills.

The railway gave local industry the chance to export product to broader markets, but also exposed local producers to outside competition. One by one, local manufacture shut down.

In brewing, the railways brought mass produced beer from Sydney along the railways spreading out from that city, closing the many locally produced beers across Northern NSW.

The railways also brought milled flour from as far away as South Australia. Neither local wheat growers nor local millers could compete. Similar things happened with other locally manufactured products.

Armidale had been a much bigger centre than Tamworth where the Australian Agricultural Company’s large land holdings had prevented growth. As the land opened up and farming grew, so did Tamworth.

By 1901, Tamworth’s population exceeded Armidale’s by 1,550 people. At the 1911 census, that gap had grown to 2,407 people.

Inverell had been growing from the combination of farming expansion and industrial activities servicing the tin and other mines on the Western side of the Tablelands. In 1901, its population was 956 less than Armidale’s. At the 1911 census, that gap had closed to 189 people.

Glen Innes, too, had grown quite rapidly. At the 1901 census, its population was 1,331 less than Armidale’s. At the 1911 census, Glen Innes was only 189 people behind.

Armidale’s problem lay in its small economic catchment area compared to other regional centres. Effectively, the city’s only sources of income were as a rural service centre serving the grazing industries of part of Southern New England combined with its role as a religious, administrative and educational centre.

By 1922, the city had some of the grand buildings that would later form part of its visitor attractions but was effectively in stagnation. Now came events that would put it on a growth path that would last to the 1980s.

Note to readers: This post was prepared as a column for the on-line edition of the Armidale Express. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015,  here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018, here 2019, here 2020, here 2021 

Armidale's education base established

Founded in 1894, TAS was part of the education growth of Armidale. The photo shows Dorm 2 in 1913. Conditions were Spartan by today’s standards! This is the third in a series exploring the rise, fall and slow recovery of the city of Armidale  

The last decades of the nineteenth and first decades of the twentieth century saw the establishment of the educational base that would determine Armidale’s future. 

By 1923, Armidale had established an articulated school structure that was remarkable for its time and would be familiar to Armidale residents for the next fifty years.  

In public education, there were three primary schools:

• Armidale Superior Public School (1865) later Armidale Demonstration School, later still Armidale City Public School
• West End (1890), later West Armidale Public School, later still Drummond Memorial School
• North Armidale (1900) late Ben Venue (1914).

These primary schools, along with those in the surrounding districts, fed into the newly established Armidale High School (from 1920, buildings completed 1923). With time, a number of Church hostels would be established to provide boarding accommodation for those attending Armidale High.

The Roman Catholic school system covered what is now St Mary’s Primary School (from 1848), St Ursula’s College (1882) and De La Salle College (1906). Both St Ursula’s and De La Salle provided boarding facilities.

The two Anglican boarding schools were the Armidale School (1894) and the New England Girls’ School (1895). In addition, the New England Ladies College had been established in 1887. Later this would become the Hilton School, later still the Presbyterian Ladies College.

Armidale also had its first tertiary institution, St John’s Theological College, established in 1898 to provide training to prospective Anglican clergy. This college would move to Morpeth in 1926.

These developments brought considerable economic and cultural benefits to the still small city. Boarders and the staff required to teach them brought economic benefits, as did construction associated with new school buildings.

The growth in the city’s educated class would feed into cultural and community activities and later into moves to bring new educational facilities to the city.

The developments could not have happened without the combination of the city’s role as a religious and administrative centre with the railway that made it easier for people to get to Armidale. But what the railway gave, it also took away.

I will look at this in my next column on the story of the rise, fall and slow recovery of Armidale. 

Note to readers: This post was prepared as a column for the on-line edition of the Armidale Express. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015,  here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018, here 2019, here 2020, here 2021 

Greater wealth came to Armidale

Mallam House is Armidale's best surviving example of a mid-Victorian fashionable house. Built in 1870 for Henry Guy Mallam to service the high end rental market, its first tenant was Bishop Timothy OMahony, Armidale's first Catholic Bishop.This is the second in a series exploring the rise, fall and slow recovery of the city of Armidale 

Four things contributed to Armidale’s growth over the second half of the nineteenth century: mining, agriculture, the coming of the railway and the city’s role as an administrative, religious and educational centre.

The first gold discovery came in 1851 at Swamp Oak Creek near Tamworth, followed by multiple rushes across the New England. Then came tin from 1871-72, diamonds (1875), copper (1876) and silver (1878)

From an Armidale perspective, the most important rushes were Rocky River (from 1852) and Hillgrove (from 1881), although there were a series of smaller rushes near Armidale.

Mining created demand for beef and other agricultural products and increased wages. Local demand increased. As it did, towns grew including Armidale and Uralla. 

Fortunes were won and lost in mining, more lost than won, but the extra capital generated by mining helped fund new building. Armidale’s Imperial Hotel (1890) was built from Hillgrove profits.

The Great Northern Railway reached Armidale in 1883.

The original plans for the railway had bypassed Armidale. The town and district (Armidale did not become a city until 1885) had sufficient political influence to redirect the line through Armidale.

It was a critical decision. Apart from direct jobs, the railways became Armidale’s biggest single employer, the north-south rail connection reinforced the new city’s position as an educational and administrative centre. Armidale as we know it could not have developed without the railway.

Construction of the line triggered a building boom that began in advance of the arrival of the line and continued for a decade after.

West End (now West Armidale) had already emerged as an industrial area, but now expanded near the new line as cottages were built to house railway and other workers.

Elsewhere in the city, greater wealth led to the construction of new homes, schools and commercial and official buildings. The Victorian city that still forms the architectural heart of the old city was in creation.

At the 1901 census, Armidale’s population had reached 4,249, rising to 4,736 at the 1911 census. There was great civic pride in the city’s progress. However, Armidale had begun to fall behind in relative terms.

Armidale had been the second largest town outside the Lower Hunter. Grafton as the main Northern port after Morpeth had then passed it. By 1901, Armidale had fallen to fifth in population rankings, to sixth in 1911. 

Armidale’s greatest growth lay ahead, but that growth would come not from the city’s local or regional marketplace, but from the city’s role as an educational centre.

Note to readers: This post was prepared as a column for the on-line edition of the Armidale Express. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015,  here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018, here 2019, here 2020, here 2021 

City story: - the rise, fall and slow recovery of Armidale

Armidale owes its existence to the decision by Commissioner Macdonald to establish his headquarters on what we now know as Macdonald Park. This is the first in a series exploring the rise, fall and slow recovery of the city of Armidale 

In 1971, the population of the City of Armidale reached 18,156. The NSW Department of Decentralisation and Development population projections suggested that the City’s population would reach 47,301 in 2001, passing that of Tamworth.

Even then, some expressed doubts, but the prevailing mood was one of confidence, of complacency. There was also growing concern about the need to control growth to preserve the City’s amenity.

Twenty years later, Armidale was in the midst of an economic and demographic crisis.

Many blamed the City Council, many still do, for its failure to identify and address the emerging problems in an effective way. While there is some truth in that, I think that the reality is far more complex.

To show this, I will tell you the story of the rise, fall and slow recovery of a city. While I am writing as an historian, it’s also a personal story for I was involved in some of these events. I do not pretend to be totally objective. 

Our story begins in what is now called Macdonald Park. Today the Park is small and manicured. It is hard to see it as the centre of a considerable official complex.

In 1839 newly appointed Crown Lands Commissioner for New England, George James Macdonald, established his headquarters on what is now the Park, chosen for its central location in an extensive plains area.

Macdonald arrived with a party of eleven – three regular Mounted Police plus eight convict Border Police.

In addition to official duties – and these were many and varied – Macdonald and his convicts had to construct buildings, erect fencing and grow food. He was, in fact, expected to act like a squatter in terms of providing for his party.

You can still see signs of this today in the names Police Paddock and Commissioner’s Waters.

To the north west of the Commissioner’s headquarters, a straggling collection of slab huts emerged along the Great North Road, really track, across Dumaresq Creek.

The Government required order and planning.

In 1848, surveyor John James Galloway drew up a north-south-east west grid pattern. This cut across existing tracks and indeed through buildings including five inns.

After protests including a public meeting and a petition to the Governor, the north south grid pattern was rotated to the east, giving the layout we know today

Armidale now had structure, but remained small. The stations had their own stores and supplies, so the little village really serviced travellers with inns and then stores. With time, trades would be added and then professionals including clergy men and teachers, but numbers were initially not large.

Growth would come, but we can already see two key future features, the relative smallness of the local geographic catchment combined with Armidale’s importance as an administrative centre.

 Note to readers: This post was prepared as a column for the on-line edition of the Armidale Express. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015,  here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018, here 2019, here 2020, here 2021 

The remarkable story of the University of New England's Heritage Centre 6 -Despair and then rebirth

Graham Wilson OAM. Both University Archivist Gerry Purkis and Graham as Director of the New England Historical Resources Centre resigned over the failure of the networked University of New England to properly address the organisation of regional records.

This is the sixth and final in a short series on the remarkable story of the University of New England's Heritage Centre and Regional Archives. 

By 1980 both the Armidale College of Advanced Education with its Museum of Education and New England Historical Resources Centre and the University of New England were providing valuable services to staff, students and the Northern NSW community.

Both institutions had experienced significant growth over the previous decade. Some problems were already apparent, but the future still seemed secure.

Nine years later, both had vanished into the maws of that mess called the networked University of New England, an uncomfortable amalgam of the Armidale College of Advanced Education, the University of New England and the Northern Rivers College of Education. Orange Agricultural College was added a little later.

I will tell you a little of those turbulent years in my next series of columns. It’s a story of Armidale’s rise, fall and then slow recovery. It’s also a story of the way hubris, loss of vision, political divides and complacency reduced the capacity of institutions and community to respond to external threats.

For the moment, the merger of the Armidale College of Advanced Education and University left open the question of what should be done with the Archives, Historical Resources Centre and Museum of Education.

In August 1989, Graham Wilson as Director of the Historical Resources Centre and Gerry Purkis as University Archivist wrote a joint report on future directions. They proposed that the University Archives, the Family History Collection and the Historical Resources Centre should be gathered together at the Mossman Street Campus.

The networked university was already struggling with the integration of ACAE staff and activities into the new institution, as well as broader integration questions across the whole network. In these circumstances, the future of these historical resources was not seen as a high priority.

Gerry Purkis resigned as archivist. His position would remain vacant for three years.

At the end of 1992, a frustrated Graham Wilson also resigned as Director of the Historical Resources Centre. He had been working on a volunteer basis with no relief from teaching load available to accommodate Centre management.  

The entire range of regional archival and support services that had been provided since the 1940s was now in effective suspension. One result was a sharp drop in research and publications focused on regional interests including history. A second was loss of community support for the university.

The network university was abolished in 1994 leading to re-establishment of a separate if much diminished independent UNE.

As had been recommended in 1989, UNE now finally decided to use C.B Newling Library building as a central site for the management of U.N.E. Archives, the Historical Resources Centre and the Museum of Education. The Heritage Centre as we know it today had been born.

Note to readers: This post was prepared as a column for the on-line edition of the Armidale Express. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015,  here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018, here 2019, here 2020, here 2021.

The remarkable story of the University of New England's Heritage Centre 5 - Lionel Gilbert and the foundation of the New England Historical Resources Centre

Lionel Gilbert played a critical role in the promotion of local and regional history.

This is the fifth in a short series on the remarkable story of the University of New England's Heritage Centre and Regional Archives. 

Both Armidale and the broader North have been lucky in the people who have fought to build and preserve our institutions, including those concerned with the preservation of our history and culture. Lionel Gilbert was one such man.

Lionel Gilbert was born at Burwood in Sydney on 8 December 1924. After graduating from Sydney Teachers” College in 1942, Gilbert served in the Royal Australian Airforce, returning to teaching in 1946.

As a teacher, Gilbert taught at Nabiac Central School, Wauchope Primary School and then Rocky River Primary School. At Nabiac, he met and married Margaret Roberts. Daughter Anne was born in 1960.

In 1955, Gilbert enrolled as an external student in the first class of the University of New England’s new external studies program, the first of its type in Australia. In 1963 he graduated with first class honours His honours thesis covered the history of botanical knowledge of the eastern seaboard of Australia 1788–1815.

In 1961, Gilbert was appointed by UNE as a Research and Information Officer in the Department of External Studies. In this capacity, Gilbert taught weekend classes on the methodology of local history for the university's adult education department throughout inland New England.

In many ways, the 1960s and 1970s marked the peak of UNE’s extension efforts across Northern NSW and indeed beyond, a focus that would later be lost in constant institutional change. The current NERAM exhibition on the UNE summer schools provides a partial picture of the period.

In July 1963, Gilbert accepted an appointment as lecturer in applied history and curator with the Armidale Teachers' College (later College of Advanced Education) Museum of Education.

The focus of the ATC and later from 1971 the Armidale College of Advanced Education was on hands on learning. By 1973, more than a 1,000 school students each year were visiting the Armidale Folk Museum to learn about the exhibits and their connection with local history.

The new NSW Junior Secondary History Syllabus based on ‘enquiry’ and ‘problem solving’ provided an opportunity for Gilbert to extend outreach because the need for students to match the new curriculum with primary and secondary resources was not being met by traditional museums. A new type of hands on repository was required.

In December 1974, Gilbert obtained funding to establish a new Regional Historical Resources Centre. This involved collection of new material along with the copying of archival and other resources to make them accessible to teachers and students.

Although the cataloguing and collecting of material was on-going, sufficient progress had been made to enable an official opening of the new Centre on 20 February 1976.

The Historical Resources Centre was an immediate success, welcomed by teachers, students and historical societies across Northern NSW. However, events were now to occur that would threaten the survival of both the Centre and UNE’s own regional archive.

Note to readers: This post was prepared as a column for the on-line edition of the Armidale Express. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015,  here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018, here 2019, here 2020, here 2021.