A note on Lebanese/Syrian settlement in New England

Many early Lebanese migrants arrived in Australia with only a suitcase full of supplies. Walking their way into regional areas, they established businesses that would help many country towns thrive. Yarad's Store Taree. Photo ABC 

Fascinating piece on ABC Mid North Coast (10 November) by Emma Siossian, Jennifer Ingall and Lauren Pezet, Hawkers, haberdashery and hospitality on the history of the Lebanese community in country NSW. Two New England towns, Moree and Taree, were featured.

Before going on, a definitional note. I have used the term Lebanese, but as I have commented before in the context of Germany, the application of labels based on nationality can be misleading. Lebanon did not exist as a country until after the First World War. The first Lebanese settlers in New England came from the then Ottoman province of Syria and were classified as Syrian.

Dan Bros Hawker Van, Taree?, nd, photo ABC

A useful overview of the history of Lebanese  settlement in NSW can be found in Paul Convy, Dr. Anne Monsour, Settlement in
 New South Wales  A Thematic History (Migration Heritage Centre, July 2018).

This paper provides a framework for understanding chain migration, a process similar to that seen with many other groups including the Chinese. It also provides a snapshot of some elements of the Lebanese community and its culture and history.

The Australian Lebanese Historical Society website provides some interesting material on individual Lebanese stories, while the UNE's Heritage Futures data base in  Different Sights - Immigrants in New England provides basic information on many individual stories including those from Lebanon.

One of the challenges in writing a local or regional history and especially a broader regional history is how to place each immigrant thread into a locally or regionally focused context. The broader story of the Lebanese community such as the influence of Sydney's Redfern is only relevant to the extent to which it affects the local or regional story.

I suspect that one common theme lies in the way in which small communities attempted to maintain their culture and links in the face of isolation. It's also interesting in the context of inland New England how the Chinese came to dominate one niche, the Lebanese a second, the Greeks a third. These niches overlapped. 

The Growers' Co-operative debate

 Harry Freame pictured with Grace on Anzac Day in Sydney. This is the eleventh in a series on Australia's early intelligence activities, the seventh on the life of Harry Freame.  

In June 1924, a meeting was held at Kentucky to consider the formation of a growers’ cooperative. In addition to the soldier settlers, the meeting was attended by Mr A A Watson, Director of Soldier Settlement, and Mick Bruxner, one of two Progressive Party members for the state Northern Tablelands seat.

Harry Freame had been an active supporter of the move to develop a grower’s cooperative. Now he expressed reservations.

“Why should I put in a board of directors to run my business, and I pay them to do my work?”, he asked.“I can buy my materials as cheap as they can, and get as good a return.” This was a substantial challenge, for Harry had considerable influence.

Reading the newspaper report of the meeting, there were two problems that worried the settlers.

The first was membership. Should this be limited to soldier settlers or should other growers be allowed to join? The second was one of scope and costs, the extent to which the cooperative might limit the freedom of growers to run their own businesses.

Both Watson and Bruxner argued strongly in favour of the cooperative.

Bruxner put the matter bluntly. There were six equivalent settlements into NSW alone coming into full production at the same time. Cooperation was needed. On the question of a broader membership, put the rum and milk together was his advice.

The meeting decided to proceed with the cooperative.

While Harry was concerned with farm and settler activities, May Freame’shealth was deteriorating. She had not recovered from depression and towards the end of 1924 she disappeared from the scene, not returning until 1930. While the exact circumstances are unclear, Tait suggests that she had been admitted to a psychiatric institution.

Josephine had remained a member of the Freame household, joined in 1923 by her son John (Chappie).

Josephine Collins nee Clarke was born at Tenterfield in 1886. She had married a Brisbane surveyor, Walter Collins, with son John born in 1914. That marriage had broken up before she became May’s companion and then housekeeper.

While May was away, Harry continued his community involvements. Josephine, too, was active within the community.

A relationship developed between the two. The result was a daughter, Josephine Grace Freame, born in October 1927.

Grace was always recognized as a Freame family member. She was close to her half-brother and father. Later, she accompanied Harry on his annual Anzac day visit to Sydney.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 24 April 2019. 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   

Battling settlement and separation

 May Freame wrote: “Sorry to say the parrots are beginning to pick it too so I don’t know what there will be to harvest when ready." (Sheila Goodyear collection). This is the tenth in a series on Australia's early intelligence activities, the sixth on the life of Harry Freame.  

Our understanding of post natal depression is quite recent.

After the birth of their son, May Freame seems to have become quite depressed. Finally, it became imperative for May to return to England and her mother.

Harry pleaded with her to stay, to wait until the following year when he might be able to go with her, but May needed mother and home.

On 2 July 1922 May, along with seven months old baby Harry and mother’s-help Josephine Clarke, sailed for England on board the Benalla. The Freames had found the money to hire Josephine, although it must have been a battle given that they were still trying to establish the farm.

Harry was now alone and would be for the next fourteen months. He missed his family. “I haven’t has the pleasure of watching my little man …. changing out of babyhood to a little boyhood” he wrote to May’s family in England.

Harry threw himself into developing their little 43 acre block. He also continued to play an active role in the developing Kentucky community, trying to build the social infrastructure and facilities necessary for the community to prosper.  

This series was triggered by Harry’s colourful life and his role as spy. However, looking at this part of our story, I think that his community life was just as important.

Harry was seeking to establish a stable place for himself and his family, an acceptance as a part Japanese Australian whose own life was complicated, into a new world where he and his family had a secure place.

Despite the sadness that is coming, I think that Harry achieved that.

On 28 August 1923, May sailed from London for Australia, accompanied by Josephine and Harry Jnr. Her mother was worried about her silent moods, although sister Emily though that she was much better.

The party arrived back in Kentucky on 9 October 1923, an event duly recorded in the Uralla Times. Josephine remained with the family as housekeeper.

May seems to have slotted back into the rhythms of life on the Kentucky Settlement.

It had been a bad winter, one that forced some of the settlers off the land. Harry was active on his block and in social, church and Settlement activities. We know this from the Uralla Times whose short Kentucky reports frequently mention Harry.

My fancy was especially tickled by a report (29 November 1923) on a Uralla Cricket Club Social. There we learn that the Kentucky Sausage King (Mr H Freame) won the prize for the most original fancy dress costume!

I wonder what it looked like?

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 17 April 2019. 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   

Building a new life book-ended by war

Kentucky, May 1922: Possibly Harry Jnrs christening. Reverend George Comie, Miss J. Clark with Harry, May and baby Henry.This is the ninth in a series on Australia's early intelligence activities, the fifth on the life of Harry Freame.  

A few years back, I was surprised at the sudden emergence of 1950s nostalgia. I shouldn’t have been. I had just forgotten just how tumultuous the first half of the twentieth century had been.

A 1950s older Australian had been through much. They or their parents had experienced the economic crash of the 1890s, the Federation drought, the First World War, the Great Depression and then the Second World War.

Families had been torn apart, hopes destroyed, as brief periods of calm, of prosperity, were followed by further catastrophes. No Australian family, locally born or part of the new post war immigration intake, had been spared.

The 1950s marked the start of the longest period of relative peace and prosperity that Australia had seen in more than sixty years. Perhaps it’s not surprising that many now wrap that time in the haze of nostalgia.

I mention this now because the story we are exploring of the development of Australia’s intelligence services in general, the story of Harry Freame in particular, was bookended by two great wars with a depression in the middle.

In April 1921, May Freame wrote to her bother in sister-in-law in Failsworth in the UK. It’s a long newsy letter, full of local Kentucky detail.

The couple seemed happy. Henry (the family always called Harry Henry) was working hard, as indeed he would do all his life.

While the potato price had been low for the latest crop, Henry had avoided going into debt as so many of the Settler families had had to do.  He was worried that he would not be able to pay for May to go home for a visit as promised.

“I tell him not to worry”, May wrote, “we cannot order things just as we would like.” She went on: “I consider there is still hope & will not worry about it. I have only been here two years & the promise was in five years.”

In the midst of local activities, May is clearly missing some of the routines of home and especially church.

Since Minister Comie left they had not even had the regular monthly church services. Still, another minister had been given the Call and May hoped that he might accept.

It is clear from May’s letter and the irregular reports in the Uralla Times that Harry was building a life not just for his family but for the local community and his family in that community.

In December 1921, May gave birth to their son, Henry Wykeham Freame, always known as Harry within the family. This happy event marked the start of a new set of troubles.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 10 April 2019. 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   

Settlement for soldiers: half the new farms would fail

 Kentucky Soldier Settlement block: Settlers had to build homes and develop their blocks with limited resources.This is the eighth in a series on Australia's early intelligence activities, the fourth on the life of Harry Freame.  

The idea of soldier settlement, the settling of returned soldiers on the land, emerged quite early during World War One. It was a way of rewarding returned soldiers that fitted with the desire for closer settlement.

South Australia acted first, passing legislation in 1915. In February 1916, Australian Governments agreed to establish a national scheme under which the Commonwealth would select and acquire land, while the States would process applications and grant land allotments.

Later in 1916, NSW passed the Returned Soldiers Settlement Act in 1916.

Land was to be made available to the soldiers on affordable terms and they could receive advances of money to make improvements to the land, which was often in poor condition. They could also use the money for equipment, plants, stock and seeds.

It was quite a complex process. Land had to be acquired, broken into blocks and then allocated. The blocks were generally small with the intention of creating smaller scale farming such as horticulture, poultry, dairying or piggeries.

Many of the new farmers had no direct experience and little capital. They had to build houses, develop their land and create new communities.

Government managers were appointed to coordinate the process, organize facilities and training. Government stores and post offices were created to support the settler endeavours.

By July 1924, there were 6,448 farms covering 8.1 million acres. Half of the new settlers would fail, driven down by work and debt.

Harry Freame was an early applicant for the scheme. On 20 November 1916, the day he was officially discharged from the Army, he was awarded a 40 acre block.

Development of the Kentucky Soldier Settlement began in 1918 on land acquired from Kentucky Station. As with other settlements, everything had to be created from scratch.  

It is not clear when Harry actually moved to Kentucky, although late 1919 or early 1920 seems the most likely date. There he became Government storekeeper and postmaster. This gave him an income at the same time as he began development of his block.

Around April 1919, May joined her husband in Australia.

They had married in July 1906 but had never really lived together. First Harry was away at sea and then came the War. During this time May seems to have lived at home with her family.

Now after almost thirteen years of marriage, they were creating their first household in what was, for May, a strange place far away from home.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 3 April 2019. 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   

The story of builder and philanthropist George F Nott

As part of my series on the New England built environment and associated architecture, I devoted four posts to sketching out the life of New England builder, industrialist and philanthropist George Nott.

  Former St Patrick's Orphanage, Armidale, one of the many buildings built by George Nott especially in Armidale and Inverell.  Architect FJ Bishop of Tamworth. Post Federation Gothic style. Completed 1921

George Nott he was born on the Breeza Plains in 1865. He came to Inverell where his father worked as a brick maker and established a brickworks.

By 1901, George had taken over the Inverell brick works from his father and had begun to expand it. By then, he seems to have been living in Armidale where he built a significant business empire including building, saw-milling, joinery and brick making

George Nott died on 16 June 1940. Over his long career, he had built many of the iconic buildings in Armidale and Inverell. His donations of material and money played a critical role in bringing community projects to success including the New England University College.

You can find the full story in:

• New England's built landscape - the remarkable story of builder and philanthropist George F Nott Part 1
• Building a place in history - the remarkable story of builder and philanthropist George F Nott Part 2
• Building a business empire - the remarkable story of builder and philanthropist George F Nott Part 3
• A towering heritage - the remarkable story of builder and philanthropist George F Nott Part 4

A towering heritage - the remarkable story of builder and philanthropist George F Nott Part 4

St Mary and Joseph Cathedral Armidale. Built by George Nott 1911-12, architect John Hennessy, the Cathedral required 1.1 million bricks with up to 30 men working on site This, the sixteenth in my series on New England's built landscape and architecture, is the forth and final columns on the remarkable life of builder George Nott.  

Previous post: Building a business empire - the remarkable story of builder and philanthropist George F Nott Part 3 

Armidale, Friday 19 October 2012. Eight hundred people have gathered for a service to celebrate the 100^th birthday of Armidale’s Catholic Cathedral of Saint Mary and Joseph.

Among those in the congregation is 91 year old Peggy Becke, the only surviving daughter of George Nott, the Cathedral’s builder. She wore a gold chain, part of a gold chain and watch set presented to her father by the grateful parishioners.

George F Nott was a devout Anglican, but his relationships with all of Armidale’s groups were good at a time when sometimes bitter sectarian divides were still a fact of Australian life. He had built with care and even donated to the building fund.

The Cathedral was designed by John Hennessy from the Sydney firm of architects Sherrin and Hennessy. Hennessy was a prominent Roman Catholic architect and a good friend of Cardinal Moran. His buildings include St Patrick’s College Manly and St Joseph’s College Hunter’s Hill.

Cardinal Moran laid the foundation stone for the new Cathedral on 5 February 1911. This had been a major build involving 1.1 million bricks with up to thirty men on site at any one time. Its completion in barely 20 months was a major achievement involving close liaison between builder and architect.

Tower, St Peter's Cathedral Armidale. George Nott's last project. In addition to donating 150,000 bricks, he worked as honorary supervisor training builders and tradesmen in the now forgotten skills required to complete the project.

Twenty seven years later and just before his death, George Nott was involved in another church build that also left a major impression on the Armidale streetscape.

On 3 May 1939, the bell-tower of St Peter’s Anglican Cathedral was dedicated. The tower had been in the original plans by architect John Horbury Hunt, but had not been completed. It was now time to rectify that omission.

This time George Nott’s role was honorary supervisor. He also donated the 150,000 bricks used in the construction.

Newcastle architects Castleden and Sara had been commissioned to build the tower, following as faithfully as possible Hunt’s original plans and specifications. The difficulty was that the builders and other tradesmen of the 1930s Art Deco period, the period which gave us the new Tattersall’s Hotel among other buildings, were inexperience in the techniques that Hunt had prescribed all those years before.

This is where George Nott with his long experience came into his own. He knew how to do things that had been forgotten, how to explain to the builders and craftsmen involved.

George Nott died on 16 June 1940. Over his long career, he had built many of the iconic buildings in Armidale and Inverell. He had built a considerable business empire. His donations of material and money had played a critical role in bringing community projects to success.

His legacy surrounds us today. 

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 20 December 2017. 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. 

Building a business empire - the remarkable story of builder and philanthropist George F Nott Part 3

Glen Innes Town Hall: Construction began in 1887, with George Nott responsible for the brickwork.This, the fifteenth in my series on New England's built landscape and architecture, is the third of four columns on the remarkable life of builder George Nott.  

Previous post: Building a place in history - the remarkable story of builder and philanthropist George F Nott Part 2

Next post.

As a regional historian, I am constantly frustrated by the lack of previous work on Northern history.

This is not a criticism of my colleagues. I stand in awe of the energy of historians such as Lionel Gilbert, John Ferry, Bruce Mitchell, Graham Wilson, Jillian Oppenheimer or John Ryan to name just a few. Without them, we would all be the poorer. I rely on their work all the time.

Writing on the history of Northern New South Wales, the broader New England, over the last 40,000 years has made me a bower bird historian. I do not have the time to research every town or every topic. Instead, I rely on the work of others, pecking around in the dirt to collect glittering pieces to bring back to my nest so that I can gather them in new displays.

Every so often, more often than I like, I run across a gap that frustrates me. Builder, industrialist and philanthropist George F Nott is a case in point. He cries out for a biography and, so far at least, I have not been able to find one.

We  know that he was born on the Breeza Plains in 1865. We know that his father came to Inverell where he worked as a brick maker and established a brickworks.

We know from Glen Innes historian Eve Chappell that George was responsible for the brickwork on the Glen Innes Town Hall where construction began in 1887. Eve notes that George later moved to Armidale, but does not give a date.

We know that by 1901, George had taken over the Inverell brick works from his father and had begun to expand it. By then, he seems to have been living in Armidale and had built a significant business empire.

Part of the business empire: George Nott's mill and joinery, 1949, with the tower that became a central Armidale landmark.

I say a significant empire. In 1898, George had sufficient money to spend £1000 erecting a sawmill in his central Armidale joinery works.

In 1900, he extended this by adding an office and workshop. He also bought the Armidale brickworks from George Palmer for £4000, immediately extending it by adding a large chimney stack and three new kilns, each capable of taking 85,000 bricks.

The empire continued to grow, In 1905, plant was purchased from the Eleanora gold mine at Hillgrove, along with a 225hp boiler and woodworking machinery intended for door and sash making for the wholesale trade. In 1906, a new brick chimney was added to the timber works, a chimney that became an Armidale landmark. Then, in 1913, Nott took over Trim’s West End timber and joinery works including the Styx River hardwood mills.

If you add all this and the building work together, you have a large operation that provided a base for George Nott’s later contributions. My frustration is that we know just so little about the timing and process involved.

 Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 13 December 2017. 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. 

Building a place in history - the remarkable story of builder and philanthropist George F Nott Part 2

Workers at Wade's brickworks Inverell: Sold to Ben Wade in 1909 and later moved, the brickworks was founded by William Nott before being extended by George F. Knott in the early 1900s. This, the forteenth in my series on New England's built landscape and architecture, is the second of four columns on the remarkable life of builder George Nott.  

Previous post: New England's built landscape - the remarkable story of builder and philanthropist George F Nott Part 1

Next post.

Builder and philanthropist George Frederick Nott was born on the Breeza Plains in 1865, the son of William Randolp (WR) Nott and his wife Mary Ann Northey. I do not know much  about the early life of the Notts.

WR was the son of ex-convict Thomas Edward Nott who had been transported on the “Elizabeth” in 1816. At Sydney Cove, Thomas had met and married currency lass Charity Evans, the daughter of former soldier and then free settler Thomas Evans and ex-convict Judith Francis Bidwell.

Thomas and Charity settled in the Lower Hunter where. WR was born at Maitland in 1839. There WR met and married Marry Anne before moving north, ending up in Inverell around 1878. 

WR was a skilled bricklayer with a love of the material and its application to building, something that his son George Frederick inherited. While timber still provided a core building material, the emerging commercial and professional classes in the growing New England towns demanded bricks, leading to the establishment of local brickworks.

WR prospered. He began making began making bricks on the banks of the Macintyre River at Inverell before establishing a site at nearby Goonowigall. Its not clear when George Frederick became involved in the business, but it seems likely that it happened at an early age.

By 1901, the now 36 year old was in charge of the facility. He had also established his own rapidly growing business empire in Armidale.

George Frederick was a skilled industrialist as well as builder. In 1901, the skilled brickmakers at Goonowigall could only make 1,000 bricks a day each, limiting production to 20,000 hand made bricks a week. Inverell was booming, and this was just not enough.

George Frederick began an expansion program, buying the adjoining Wellis’ brickyard and installing three new large kilns linked by a tramway. Production expanded from 20,000 to 70,000 bricks per week.

In 1909, George Frederick sold his Inverell brickworks to Ben Wade. He continued to build in Inverell, but his main industrial interests were now in Armidale. The brickworks he had established was moved to a new site in 1929, but continued to function until 1974.

In my next column in this series, I will look at George Frederick’s contribution to New England’s life and built landscape across three dimensions, as a builder, as and industrialist and as a philanthropist.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 6 December 2017. 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.   

New England's built landscape - the remarkable story of builder and philanthropist George F Nott Part 1

University of New England graduation. In April 1936, opponents to its establishment had the numbers in the NSW Cabinet to strike it down. They would have succeeded without instant financial support for the proposed College from builder, industrialist and philanthropist George F Nott. This, the thirteenth in my series on New England's built landscape and architecture, is the first of four columns on the remarkable life of George Nott.  

Previous post: Remembering our stories: Drummond family wedding in Armidale

Next post. Building a place in history - the remarkable story of builder and philanthropist George F Nott Part 2

The built landscape we have to today reflects the combined effort of owners, architects, trades people and their supporting workers and the builders who coordinated the construction process. Of those builders, George Frederick Nott was arguably the most important as a builder and as a philanthropist.

It is late April 1936. Fund raising for the proposed New England University College is lagging, opposition to the concept increasing. The NSW Stevens-Bruxner Government is being affected by internal rivalries within the United Australia (now Liberal) Party as Deputy UAP Leader Eric Spooner begins to move against Premier Bertram Stevens.

At a Cabinet meeting, a minister suddenly moves out of the blue “that the item – a University College for Armidale – be struck off the Cabinet list”. We do not know who the minister was, but it seems probable that it was Spooner.

The College’s main protagonist, Education Minister and member for Armidale David Drummond, had been ambushed. Stevens was on leave with Country Party Leader Bruxner acting as Premier. Bruxner was in a difficult position trying to manage the increasing factional divides within the UAP, as well as relations between the UAP and Country Party.

Recognising that if the motion succeeded the university college proposal was dead, Drummond desperately talked out time until the lunch break. But what to do?

Knowing that George Nott was in town, Drummond went to him for help. If this resolution is carried, Drummond pleaded, “not only Armidale, but the whole of the north would lose the greatest opportunity it had ever had.

Nott’s reaction was swift and generous. “Is £1,000 any good to you? I will give you £500 in cash, and another £500 in bricks the day the job is started.”

When Cabinet resumed, Drummond’s colleague took up his papers with an air of finality, and said, “Well, Mr Chairman, I think we had better settle this matter now”.

“Pardon me”, Drummond interposed, “but within fifteen minutes of leaving this room I raised £1000. If the Government will give a firm undertaking to go ahead, the northern people will do their part. I am sure we can get the rest of the £10,000”.

Battles still lay ahead, there would be other threats, but the day had been won.

While critical to the final establishment of the New England University College, George F Nott’s quick and generous reaction was only part of his contribution to New England life, including its built architecture. That contribution was truly remarkable.

Over the next few columns, I will take the life of George F Nott as an entry point to further explore New England’s built landscape and architecture and the life that created it.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 29 November 2017. 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.   

History revisited – the shears stop in Newcastle

End of an Era. The Newcastle wool sales came to an end last year after more than ninety years in operation. Jim Belshaw explains how the sales began in the 1920s to help Northern farmers.

Tuesday 19 February 2013, Newcastle. The last wool sales had begun. For the last time, the buyers, brokers and graziers gathered together. Unlike other centres where selling had become remote, the mob of woolgrowers and buyers who relished travelling to Newcastle to see the collective clip had never wavered, propping up hotels, restaurants and business. It was their sale, a major social outing.

Barbara Morley had served the wool brokers and growers breakfast, lunch and dinner for 27 years. Now she was to don her apron for the last time, serving dinner for up to two hundred people, enjoying a last chardy or chat with all the familiar faces.

‘Country folk are just so unbelievable, real gentlemen and so respectful – I’ll miss them.’’

The story now ending had begun many years before. During the 1920s, Northern graziers experienced difficulties in selling their late cut wool because of congestion in the Sydney wool stores. Wool shorn in October or November could not be sold until the following March, creating a cash flow hole. The problem had become so bad that some growers were selling their wool from the shed, taking a lower price just to get the cash.

A small group (J J Price, A E Hunter and W E Tayler) decided that the solution was to open wool sales in Newcastle. Newcastle was a deep water port with a direct rail connection that finished on the water front. Tayler came to see P A Wright to seek his support and to ask him whether he was prepared to join the board of the new venture.

PA, everyone called him PA if not always to his face, was frustrated. He had sold his own large clip from the shed in 1927. A strong supporter of self government for Northern New South Wales, Wright believed that existing institutional structures impeded local development. He was also a supporter of direct action; those experiencing problems should act to fix them at once as best they could.

Wright listened to Tayler’s arguments. The need was clearly there. The concept was attractive. But would it work in a practical sense? There was a big gap between that embryo group and the practical realities involved in creating a new wool selling centre in the face of entrenched institutional and commercial barriers.

Wright was a methodical practical man. However, that was combined with curiosity, with a willingness to observe and experiment and the ability to see visions and to pursue causes with a dogged persistence.

As a practical man, he did his own investigation, visiting Sydney for talks with wool brokers. As a visionary, he became convinced that part of the solution to Northern problems lay in the development of Newcastle as an export port for Northern produce. It wasn’t just wool. Northern wheat growers were experiencing similar problems trying to export through Sydney.

After reflection and investigation, Wright decided to support the project and join the board. I will continue this story in my next column.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 11 June 2014. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because the columns are not on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014.

History revisited – Hunter Valley historical tour 2: Dalwood

Continuing the story of my Hunter Valley history tour, Judith Wright’s Generations of Men (1959) chronicles the early story of her family. I wanted to visit some of the places described in the book and especially Dalwood House.

We set out on Easter Monday, detouring first to visit the Hunter Valley Gardens established by Bill and Imelda Roche. I had wanted to visit for a while, but had never found the time.

I enjoyed the gardens, but was struck again by the sheer scale of the tourist development. When I first visited Pokolbin, there were scattered vineyards but not much else. Now, fueled by proximity to Sydney, there are vineyards and resorts everywhere. All this began with George and Margaret Wyndham, Judith Wright’s great great grandfather.

George Wyndham was born at Dinton, Wiltshire in England in 1801. Educated at Harrow and Cambridge, Wyndham met Margaret, his wife to be, in Italy in 1825. They married in Brussels in 1827.

The couple decided to emigrate to NSW, sailing for Sydney on the George Horne in August 1827 along with several servants, cattle, sheep, horses, pigs, hounds, goods and chattels. The couple reached Sydney on Christmas Eve 1827. The following year, they settled near Branxton in the Hunter Valley, naming the property Dalwood after one of the Wyndham family farms at Dinton.

From Dalwood, George’s interests spread to include Collyblu on the Liverpool Plains, Bukkulla and Nullamanna near Inverell and Keelgyrah on the Richmond River, a total of some 200,000 acres or 80,937 hectares.

Importantly from the viewpoint of this story, George was interested in wine making. He quickly established a vineyard and began making wines. Both red and white varieties of grape were grown, principally hermitage, cabernet and shiraz. He also planted grapes on Bukkulla; thus establishing a Tablelands’ wine industry. Both Dalwood and Bukkulla wines won medals at European wine shows. 

Sometime in 1828 or 1829, George began construction of a new house for his family, Dalwood House. It was this house that I wanted to visit, a house brought vividly alive by Judith in her book.

The house was a partial ruin when I last visited it forty years ago. It still is, although restoration efforts have stabilized the main structure. It’s not a grand house by later standards, but with some imagination you can get a feel for the life that surrounded it.

We wandered around in the sun while I took pictures, talking with my companion about its special features. Later over a very nice lunch on the terrace at Wyndham Estate wines, I thought what a wonderful tapestry our history makes.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 7 May 2014. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because the columns are not on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for2014.

History revisited – a considerable influence

I finished my first column on the remarkable history of civil aviation in New England with the successful 1961 fight by East-West Airlines against a hostile takeover by Ansett Transport Industries backed by the full power of the Federal Government.

I will return to the story of East-West a little later. Now, I want to introduce a new player, one that would become the third New England airline of national importance.

The creation of East-West had a considerable economic impact on the North beyond the immediate value of the air services themselves or indeed the money spent locally by East-West itself. This impact came from the new businesses created as a consequence of East-West’s existence.

In Tamworth, for example, Jack Hannaford built his bus and coach company around the need to shift East-West passengers. By the late 1950s, Hannaford’s was one of the first two coach companies to enter the Northern Territory marketplace.

A second company was Tamworth Air Taxis, later Tamair, then East Coast Airlines, then Eastern Airlines and finally Eastern Australian Airlines.

Tamworth Air Taxis owed its existence to Jim Packer’s love of flying. A Barnados Boy, Packer had come to Australia as a twelve year old in 1929. After working on diary farms around Qurindi and Tamworth, he later worked at The Tamworth Gulf Club.

In 1937, he joined the Tamworth Aero Club and started spending every available penny on flying lessons, acquiring his private pilot’s license in 1938. In 1941, Jim joined the Royal Australian Air Force, becoming a pilot in the No 4 Communications Unit.

With the establishment of East-West Airlines in 1947, Jim started work in the company’s electrical engineering department, also working as a charter pilot for East-West.

In 1949, East-West withdrew from charter work following a forced landing during a major flood. Jim then formed Tamworth Air Taxis in partnership with Bruce Cann, supported by local farmers including Colin Proctor. Tamworth Air Taxis took over and extended the charter work previously done by East-West, including air ambulance work.

In 1953, Jim renamed the company Tamair. He also convinced the Sydney afternoon newspapers that they would make more money if he could collect the afternoon papers delivered to Tamworth by East-West around 1:00 pm and then fly them to smaller centres across the North.

This work provided bread and butter for Tamair, supporting the company during seasonal downturns and facilitating the extension of its services into a range of new areas including aerial survey work and a flying school.

In 1971, Tamworth business man John Rowarth took control of Tamair, starting a period of rapid expansion that would entwine Tamair and East-West and would play a critical role in the fundamental changes that were to sweep New England civil aviation.

In my next column, I will return to the story of East-West and the dramatic events that were now to take place.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 2 April 2014. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because the columns are not on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014.

History revisited - legacy still stands strong

In December 1904, the still new century was marked by the opening of one of Armidale’s iconic buildings, the new emporium of J R Richardson & Co.

Older Armidale residents will remember the old Richardson’s. It was indeed an emporium. There was that machine in the men’s shoe department, now banned with greater knowledge of X rays, where you could stick your foot and see the bones. It was meant to help measure shoe fit, but I was more fascinated by the bones!

Then there was the subscription library. Subscription libraries? What on earth are they? Well, before the extension of the public library, many country department stores had small lending libraries where you could borrow popular books in return for a small fee.

At the time I am talking about, the Richardson’s library must have been on its last legs, but it was still there.

As kids, we didn’t buy a lot at Richardson’s ourselves. Other stores were more to our style with the limited pocket money we had. There were Penny’s and Coles with their cheaper displays including toys and sweets, or the various Greek cafes with their drinks. But we were marched into Richardson’s for things like shoes or school clothes.

A native of Fifeshire in Scotland, John Richardson was born in 1810, son of Presbyterian minister John Richardson and his wife Grace. At 16, he was apprenticed to a linen draper in Kirkcaldy and then worked in London before setting sail for Sydney, arriving in April 1837.

In 1842, John Richardson established an importing and ships chandlery business in Brisbane. If you look at the front of the Richardson’s Building you will see this date. He was obviously a shrewd businessman, because he quickly built a considerable business empire. He also became a member of the NSW parliament.

As a parliamentarian he was something of a radical, opposing William Charles Wentworth’s bunyip constitution, while supporting John Dunmore Lang’s campaign for the separation of what is now Queensland from NSW.

Lang had a vision of Australia as a great federated nation made up of many states. After working for self-government for Victoria and then Queensland, Lang campaigned for the separation of Northern NSW, beginning a new state tradition that continues to this day.

After suffering heavy business losses, John Richardson decided to relocate to Armidale, buying John Moore’s Armidale Store in 1872. This stood on the present site of the Richardson’s building, the first of three Richardson buildings on the site.

Richardson had expected Moore to withdraw from retailing. In 1879, Moore re-entered retailing, opening a new store just across the road from Richardson’s. John Richardson was not pleased. Later, the family firm would buy the building, making it their furniture department.

John Richardson died in December 1888, leaving an estate valued at almost £30,000. His firm survived. Five generations of the Richardson family would work in the store before its final sale.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 5 June 2013. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because the columns are not on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013

History Revisited - the night the city was given light

Public meetings have always been a feature of Armidale life. While not always well attended, little could be done without them. They helped organise public support and to raise money for civic activities.

In 1883, the Great Northern railway finally reached Armidale. At night, the town then lay largely in darkness. Those alighting from the railway found their way to Beardy Street along streets dimly lit by fifteen or sixteen kerosene street lights. Elsewhere, darkness held sway. Something had to be done!

In May 1883, a group of leading citizens petitioned the Mayor, John Moore, to convene a public meeting to consider the feasibility of forming an Armidale gas company.

The idea of gas lighting was hardly new. In 1837, the Australian Gas Light Company (AGL) had been given a Royal Charter charging it with responsibility for lighting Sydney’s streets. On 24 May 1841, the first lights were turned on to celebrate Queen Victoria’s birthday. That year, AGL became the second company to list on the Australian Stock Exchange.

While the idea of gas lighting wasn’t new, the cost of bringing coal to Armidale by road mad gas lighting impractical. Now with the railway, coal could be brought easily from the Hunter Valley.

In Friday 26 May 1883, the requested public meeting convened at the Armidale Town Hall with Mayor Moore in the chair. There they heard a proposal for the construction of a gasworks estimated to cost £7,000 to £8,000. A gas committee was formed to consider proposals and to seek expert advice.

In July, the Mayor presented a proposal to another public meeting that an Armidale Gas Company be established and a share list drawn up. There appears to have been some initial hesitation, but finally the necessary capital was obtained and construction begun on a Beardy Street site, along with around five miles of supporting gas mains and associated building connections.

This was quite a large undertaking in a still small city. Finally, in October 1885, all was ready. The mains were filled with gas, and then a team of plumbers and gasfitters lead by gas manager Samuel Rutter walked the mains to check that all the connected buildings were ready to light-up at dusk.

As night fell on Saturday night, 24 October, the streets were thronged with people, many who had never seen gaslight before. As the City Band played outside the gasworks where red, green and blue lights burned, the stores, hotels and public buildings suddenly blazed with bright light. The darkness that had marked the city was no more.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 27 March 2013. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because the columns are not on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013

History Revisited - looking back on the industrial age

I wonder how many Armidale residents know of Armidale’s industrial past? Yes, the city does have one!

You find hints of it today in street names such as Brewery Lane (Simpson’s Brewey) or Tancredi Steet (B A Moses’ tannery), in the brick pits and in some of the buildings.

Most of the city’s early workshops and manufacturing operations relied on local markets and used local raw material. They serviced the building industry (brickworks and sawmills), transport (blacksmiths, leatherwork, coach or buggy building) and supplied consumer products (meat, beer, flour, cordials, butter, soap or boots and shoes).

Operations were generally small, although some grew to be substantial businesses. In 1882, Barnet Moses’ Armidale tannery and boot factory had 100 employees, was exporting to Britain and producing up to 1,500 pairs of boots and 500 sides of leather a month.

The civic minded Moses built houses for his workers and contributed to various local causes. He also experienced the region’s first serious industrial action outside the railways when his workers struck because Moses had reduced wages to counter cheap Sydney product coming in via the new railway.

The city’s industries rose and fell with changes in management, transport, technology, local supplies and Government regulation.

Armidale’s civic leaders spoke proudly, but mistakenly of the Tablelands’ future as a premier wheat producing area. By the 1890s, Armidale’s five flour mills had shrunk to two in the face of competition from other areas, including cheap flour coming in by rail from South Australia. Tamworth’s experience was very different. There with greater supply, scale and entrepreneurial flair, Fielders grew to become one the largest miller and baker in Australia.

Flour milling was not the only Armidale industry affected by the railway. Brewing stopped. “Golden Bar” and “Champion Cleaner and Pumice Sand” soap produced by Mallaby’s New England Soap Works vanished from the shelves.

The combination of the railways with changing technology and increasing economies of scale affected local industry across the broader New England. However, the immediate impact appears to have been greatest in Armidale, in part because the city lacked the local entrepreneurial culture to be found elsewhere and in Tamworth in particular.

The coming of the railways was only the first in a series of rolling changes affecting New England industrial activity, culminating in the economic and structural changes of the 1980s and 1990s. In 1981, for example, abattoir closures led to the loss of some 800 direct Tablelands’ jobs, a loss that passed without ripple in the metro press.

Some new industries did open, but the net effect was a further hollowing out of the Northern NSW economy.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 6 February 2013. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because the columns are not on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013