Innehållsförteckning för Edition 27, 2024 från Traces

I was in my first year of high school, living with my two younger brothers and parents at Nightcliff, near the beach. In the evenings before the great storm, cooling tropical sea breezes would spring up at sunset after a wet-season deluge. We would watch giant mantarays glide around the bay. A cyclone had threatened these waters weeks earlier, and residents had taken measures, but it had veered harmlessly away. My mother, a high school teacher, had good‑naturedly questioned the warnings issued by First Nations boarding students. ‘No, Miss,’ they had replied, ‘that’s not the one. It’s coming’. And boy, did it come. At 9.30 pm on Christmas Eve of 1974, our presents were arranged around the Christmas tree near the kitchen. I sat comfortably by a large picture window…

Objects come to museums in all manner of ways. Some are richly storied, accompanied by handwritten notes, oral histories, or parting tears as custodianship is handed over. Others are acquired in a vacuum, requiring curators to deeply research their context. Then there are items where closer inspection reveals an unexpected mystery. In October 1899, many among the Australian colonies eagerly supported Britain’s war against the Boer republics in South Africa, including Transvaal and the Orange Free State. The scale of the campaign steadily ramped up, with vigorous calls for colonial troops to bolster British infantry, artillery and cavalry units. Ultimately, more than 16,000 Australians volunteered. Among those eager to test their mettle were the New South Wales Lancers. These cavalrymen wore smart uniforms, were excellent riders and carried sharp-tipped lances…

There aren’t many photos of Dulcie Margaret Jordan – no recording of her voice, no home movie. But my mother speaks clearly to me through the writing, voice, and mannerisms of her first son, David. It’s no ordinary thing that David is in my life. Neither is it an ordinary thing that David himself is in the world. David is Mum’s first son. She was pregnant with him during 1943–44, when she served in stores at the Women’s Auxiliary Australian Air Force (WAAAF) at Western Junction near Launceston, Tasmania. I have her enlistment records and a grainy photo in which she looks scared of what she was about to embark on as ACW D.M. Jordan 92750 at the No. 7. Elementary Flying Training School of the Royal Australian Air Force…

Victoria’s heritage adding $1.1 billion to the state’s economy The Heritage Council of Victoria’s latest report, ‘Why Heritage?’, sheds light on the immense value of preserving cultural treasures. Authored by Extent Heritage’s Dr Leo Martin and Vivian Lu, and Kate Clark, from Public Value Consulting, the study unveils how heritage sites contribute a whopping $1.1 billion annually to Victoria’s economy. Beyond finances, heritage conservation also creates jobs and reduces carbon emissions. The report also found that more than 90 per cent of the buildings on the Victorian Heritage Register are used daily. ‘We hear so much about how heritage acts as an impediment to development, but we hear very little about how heritage assets can support positive social, economic and environmental outcomes,’ says Martin. ‘This report adds much‑needed nuance to…

We live our lives surrounded by stuff – more of it than in any previous generation. Have you ever thought about the objects in your life – your telephone, TV, recipe books, childhood toys? How important are these objects to you and your family? Are there things you absolutely cannot live without? In a new exhibition at the Old Treasury Building in Melbourne – Belongings: Objects and Family Life – we are interested in the objects associated with family life. And one object in particular radically altered family life: the motor car. In 1925, there was one motor vehicle to every 24 Victorians. By 1945, there was one car for every 14, and by 1969, the ratio was one to three. Within a generation, the motor car moved from being…

Dating back to the 1920s, the Roneo #1 Addressing Machine stands as a testament to early office technology. This hand‑operated gadget employed a meticulous process to print addresses onto envelopes or paper sheets, using stencils and inked cylinders. Operators prepared a stencil by typing the address onto tissue paper, then moistening it with a soaking cloth to adhere it to a cardboard frame. The frame, with the stencil securely fastened, was placed onto an inksaturated cylinder. As the cylinder rotated, ink flowed through the stencil cuts, imprinting the address onto awaiting envelopes or paper. This particular machine was once a fixture at the Coleman Quicklite company from the 1920s to the 1950s, before finding purpose at a local Methodist church until the 1970s. The Roneo #1 and its counterpart, the…

Built in 1897, RMS Moana belonged to the Union Steam Ship Company of New Zealand’s fleet of passenger and cargo ships running variously between Sydney, New Zealand, San Francisco, and Vancouver. The Union Steam Ship Company was, at one time, the largest shipping line in the Southern Hemisphere, and New Zealand’s largest private‑sector employer. My great-grandfather was a crew member. With the capacity to hold a net weight of 2414 tonnes, the Moana could comfortably accommodate 100 second‑class and 198 first-class passengers in comparative timber‑panelled luxury. The Moana was two days into her regular mail delivery service between San Francisco, United States, and Wellington, New Zealand, via Rarotonga and Tahiti. With a top speed of 15 knots when fully laden, the journey was expected to take approximately three weeks. As…

My fascination with old homes took root around the age of nine or 10, during an adventurous exploration beneath the floorboards of my childhood home. There, hidden in the shadows, I discovered boxes brimming with artefacts from another age: glass plate photographs, aged newspapers, and books penned in French and Greek. These fragments, though seemingly disparate, wove together a tale of postwar migration to Australia, igniting my lifelong passion for history. Years later, this fascination for the past evolved, intertwining with a newfound dream: to own an old home of my own. My heart was set on the charm of 19th‑century cottages – those architectural gems with their intricate lacework, towering ceilings, and distinctive quirks; however, the reality of a first-time homebuyer’s budget meant expanding my search beyond the familiar…

Then Established in the early 1800s, the history of the Bush Inn is closely linked to that of the Derwent Valley. Settled in 1808, New Norfolk – a town on the River Derwent – was established when convicts were transferred to the valley from Norfolk Island’s penal settlement. Between November 1807 and October 1808, 544 convicts, soldiers and free settlers relocated to New Norfolk. It is unclear whether the Bush Inn (at times known as the Bush Hotel) was built in 1815 or at a later date, but while there is some conjecture and mystery surrounding the Bush Inn’s establishment, research confirms that by October 1925, a licence was held by Anne Bridger to sell spirits, wine and beer. An enterprising widow, Bridger brought with her from England her son,…

WARNING: Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are warned that this article contains the names and images of people who are now deceased. It is hard to imagine two cultures so different in values, language and customs as that of the Wakka Wakka Aboriginal people near Brisbane, Queensland, and the white pastoralists of the mid 1800s. To the semi‑nomadic, hunting-and-gathering Wakka Wakka, land was not an exploitable commodity and was not privately owned, but rather was the very foundation of a belief system. Wakka Wakka survival depended on knowledge of Country, seasons, and flora and fauna, which had served the people for tens of thousands of years. The Wakka Wakka, like all Aboriginal language groups, had clearly defined territories with fixed and known boundaries beyond which members had a sense…

In 2009, my father, an Englishman, was diagnosed with a rare terminal illness. I had spent considerable time interviewing him about his life experiences, and this diagnosis created a greater imperative to record his memories. During one of our conversations, he expressed regret about not knowing three of his siblings (twin sons and a daughter) from his father’s second marriage. In what sounded rather hollow, but felt rather inspired, I promised my father that I would find them for him. The problem was, I wasn’t Indiana Jones, and I had no idea how to find them. In 2010, I began the search with the only records I had any experience in: family history archives – more specifically, online digital archives. My initial results were mediocre at best, but it was…

Australian‑born artist Adelaide Ironside (1831–1867) was only 23 years old when she sailed out of Sydney Heads. In the winter of 1855, she left behind her ‘beloved native land’ of New South Wales, with ‘the dream of Rome in her heart’ and a determination to return home ‘the Acknowledged Mistress of Art in the Southern Hemisphere’. Beside her stood her 44‑year‑old mother, Martha Rebecca Ironside (nee Redman), the daughter of a convict forger named Mary George, and John Redman, the Chief Intendant of Sydney Gaol, which was then located at the ‘lower end of George Street’, across from their family home, Redman Court. Adelaide was still a child when Martha separated from her husband, a Scottish broker named James Ironside (Adelaide’s biological father). Although James continued to support his wife…