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The Swinburne Senior Technical College Magazine 1063

EDITOR

ART DIRECTORS

LAYOUT

COVER DESIGN

S.R.C. COMMITTEE

H. P. Schoenheimer

B. Owen, D. Miller, T. Ward

D. M/7/er

T. Ward

F. Docking, S. Hill

ILLUSTRATORS: T. Ward

S. Harvey

K. Hopwood

B. Lauchlan

D. Miller

J. Leech

L Bechervaise

F. Docking

K. Jewell

M. Stewart

M. Gurney

B. Owen

The Students' Representative Council gratefully

acknowledges the generosity of the following

organisations whose donations have helped to cover

the costs of illustrating "Swinopsis".

The SHELL C O M P A N Y OF AUST. PTY. LTD.

GENERAL MOTORS-HOLDEN'S LIMITED

THE FORD M O T O R CO. OF AUST. PTY. LTD.

CONTENTS

A. F. Tylee

Alan Marshall

A. McCarthy

Janet Goodchild

Peter Cuffley

Barry Owen

Aly Ong

Margaret Gurney

Judy Leech

G. Mcintosh

Judy Leech

Allan Jordan

Judy Leech

Alan Mawson

Judy Leech

John Bowman

B. Woodhouse

Margaret Stewart

5 DIRECTOR'S REMARKS

6 IN MINE O W N HEART

12 BARMAH FOREST AREA

15 SISPNYCOFENPIWSAUZE

18 THE JAZZ SCENE

22 REVUE, 1963

25 HUNTING IS M Y HOBBY A N D SPORT

26 IN FASHION

29 A TRIBUTE

29 PENSIVE M O O D

30 THEY TELL US

32 JORDAN JUBILEE

39 T W O MUSICAL POEMS

40 O N INSPIRATION

44 SUMMER MISFITS

47 TRENDS OF MODERN MUSIC

50 THE CAPTIVE

52 A TOTEM OF LOVE

SPORTS REPORT OF SENIOR SCHOOL

COLLEGE ACTIVITIES

COLLEGE AWARDS

4

DIRECTOR'S REMARKS

"Vanity of vanities, all is vanity; and there is no

new thing under the sun." So said King Solomon

almost three thousand years ago, but, in spite of his

reputation for wisdom, I venture to disagree with

him.

Materially, Solomon was no prophet. The enter­

tainments of his day were many, but included no

television; his chariots were swift, but any of our

students' old "bombs" could have left them standing.

And talking of "bombs" — well, enough said.

Social conditions and daily life, too, are not quite

what they were. Before m e on the desk is a copy

of rules issued in 1852 by a Sydney firm to its

clerical staff. Clerks must be soberly dressed, and

not "disport themselves in raiment of bright colours."

Each clerk should bring four pounds of coal daily

during cold days for the office fire. Talking is for­

bidden during office hours, "which have been re­

duced from 7.00 a.m. to 6.00 p.m. on weekdays,

including Saturdays."

In the modern world of accelerating change only

human nature remains static. W e call our species

" H o m o Sapiens" — wise, thinking man (woman

included, of course), but w e often act instinctively,

motivated by emotion and impulse rather than by

thought.

W e still have those aggressive tendencies so use­ful to our sabre-tooth-tiger-hunting ancestors, ten­

dencies which now find socially objectionable phy­

sical expression in a variety of ways such as race riots,

vandalism, reckless driving, and missiles thrown at

players on the field of sport.

Some students, though perhaps not so many as

is often thought, are amongst those who thus offend.

With students, as maturity is reached, reason helps

to apply the brakes to impulse. O n the other hand,

again quoting Solomon, "Much study is a weariness

of the flesh", so that enforced mental activity, par­

ticularly in adolescence, tends to bring about a

variety of reactions throughout the year, culminating

probably after the examinations.

Such reactions require outlets rather than re­

pression; harmless, socially acceptable outlets such

as sport, dancing, dramatic work, hobbies, sing-songs,

active participation in S.R.C. or S.C.M. work, or even

writing for the student paper, "Contagious", or for

this magazine. To provide increasing facilities for

such outlets is one of the objectives being gradually

achieved in this College.

5

IN MINE OWN HEART BY ALAN MARSHALL ILLUSTRATION BY K. HOPWOOD AND T. WARD

(There must be few if any readers of this magazine

who are not familiar with the writings of Alan Mar­

shall. Following his extraordinarily popular "I Can

Jump Puddles" and "This is the Grass", his new book,

"In Mine Own Heart", takes the writer's story on info

the hungry "thirties", the years of depression and

post-depression. It tells, in Marshall's straightforward,

masterly yet simple style the story of his travels and

the characters he met in that period. "The best thing

he has done yet", say his writer friends. "In Mine

Own Heart" is not yet published. It is due on the

bookstalls in a few weeks. But, thanks to the gene­

rosity of Alan Marshall and of Cheshire's, his pub­

lishers, "Swinopsis" is able to print for the first time

anywhere the following extract, dealing with parts

of the author's life amongst the sideshow people who

followed — and often still follow — Australia's Great

"Shows".)

Towards the end of the winter I made back to­

wards the Mallee country of Northern Victoria where

agricultural shows were beginning their season in the

country towns and I could mix with crowds of people.

The sideshow men, the showmen, were beginning

their treks from town to town in caravans and trucks,

in old cars. . . . They pitched their tents on the show­

grounds the day before the show opened. They

erected the line-up boards, displayed their lurid

banners and signs, then emerged from their tented

caves to the sound of drums and shouting on the

crowded opening days. From the platforms beneath

the posters they harangued the crowd: 'The Irish

Giant, The Irish Giant, the tallest man in the world.

Seven foot six and a half inches of virile masculinity

and still growing. He's a whopper! Don't miss it. Talk

to the world's tallest man. Talk to the Irish Giant."

"We're the big five in one. Five big shows for the

price of one. See the disappearing lady inside the

marquee. She vanishes from sight before your eyes.

It's educational. It's sensational.

"See Madame Arko, the mind reader. Yes, ladies

and gentlemen, although you have never seen her

before she will tell you what you are thinking. She's

amazing. She's incredible. She's a wonder of the

world.

"See Detla, the dancer, do her notorious strip-tease

interpretation of that famous dance, The Lambeth

Walk, and when she strips does she tease! Hurry,

hurry, hurry, she's just itching to take her clothes off.

6

"No children for this session, definitely not. Not

if you gave m e five pounds.

"She'll take five years off your life, ten inches off

your waistline. Look as much as you like, men, but

don't touch. You'll see all you want to see inside the

marquee.

"Follow the crowd, follow the wise people. . . .

Here's where they're going. The Big Five. The Big

Five.

"We'll introduce you to the human sewing

machine. He swallows needles. He swallows cotton.

He threads them in his stomach.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, put your hands to­

gether for the Indian Fire Eater here outside on the

platform for a free show. He belches fire. See the

burning flames from his mouth. See his tortured flesh

writhing from searing heat."

"I'll give one pound I say to any man who can

kiss the little Jap lady beside m e right on her delec­

table lips. One pound and no holds barred. Three

lady wrestlers to be kissed. Three beautiful girls.

Who'll take one of them on? Who'll have a go?"

"The good old game of Squareo. You pick 'em

and I'll pay 'em. You'll get a hiding over there in the

boxing tent; you'll make money here. The only game

on the ground that's fair. Here's where you get

seven pennies change for sixpence. All squares three

to one. The good old game of Squareo. The line wins

for the old man, the square for the punter."

In the evenings I sat with the sideshow people

outside their caravans, or with groups before a fire

and listened to them. I was interested in their skill

at exploiting human credulity and longing, their

ability to play on the emotions of man.

The Spruikers of the boxing tents, cynical, con­

temptuous of those who believed their speil, knew

every trick to rouse a crowd to excitement.

The indignant country man who, from a pack of

people in front of the line-up board, roared in pro­

test at what seemed to him an evasion by the spruiker,

had taken his bait. W h e n the crowd joined with him

in his protest the spruiker smiled. He had shaken in

the ingredients, stirred them and brought them to the

boil.

They pushed through the doorway to the marquee,

men who purged themselves of frustrations and re­

sentments by identifying themselves with one who

punished with blows. The boxer's gloved hands, swift

and savage, were their hands. The crumpling body

that reeled from uppercut and hook, that gasped,

that bled, was their fruitless work, their loneliness,

their demanding wives, the banks, the drought, the

unfulfilled dream. It afforded a means of protest, an

identification with might conquering and being

admired.

It is me.

Red Mulligan was a "Ram", the name given to

that member of a boxing troupe who goes ahead of

the show posing as a local fighter hanging round to

have a go at the champ, of the troupe opening up

on the showgrounds in a couple of days' time.

He was a heavy, powerfully built man with a

flexible, expressive face that had been so loosened

by punches his cheeks moved into folds when he

smiled. He had never made the grade to big-time

fighting. He was too slow, too deliberate.

His act demanded he keep away as much as

possible from other members of the troupe, so he

had plenty of time to talk, which he did sitting over

a fire with m e drinking pannikins of strong, black

tea sugared almost into a syrup.

I sat on a packing case close to the fire so that I

could attend to the chops I was usually grilling or

stir soup simmering in a billy.

Around us was the yapping of terriers chained

beneath vans. By the shadows of wheels, monkeys

with thin, nervous mouths and quick eyes huddled

beside piles of canvas, dirty little velvet jackets, flags

and tiny wagons with the harness of dogs loose on

the shafts.

Men tightened stay ropes, swung mallets above

iron pegs. Faded women with wispy hair and tired

breasts stood silhouetted against the light of caravan

9

doorways and called shrilly to children. Piebald

ponies tethered to pegs stamped restlessly.

From the shadow of one big tent a midget played

his sorrows on a fiddle, his big chin resting heavily

on the ebony rest.

The air smelt of fried onions and steaming horse

dung, of coffee and moth-balled air from open cases

packed with uniforms of braid and plush.

There was movement of shadow and panting of

light, restless, urgent, yet strangely embracing under

the lonely, compassionate stars.

"I can't make out how people don't wake up to

you," I said to Red as I turned the wire grill.

'They don't want to wake up," he replied. "They

want to get stirred up."

"Do you always challenge the same bloke?" I

asked.

"No, sometimes I fight the lot."

"How do you work that out?"

"Well, you've got four blokes on the board. You've

got to have as large a variety of fighters as possible

so that all challenges can be met. There's a novice

learning the game. He's on his way to city stadiums,

he reckons. Then there's an amateur, often a big

bloke. W e gotta big bloke with us now, Bob. Then

there's a semi-professional; that's young Davis. He's

fought in the stadium. Some reckon he's got a tail.

I dunno. . . . He's an Abo. Then there's the champ.,

the Star of the Board. That's Johnny. He makes him­

self unpopular with the crowd. There's not many locals

who can beat him. Sometimes, if he wants to encour­

age a local who is a sitting shot but has a lot of

friends in the crowd, he'll wear twenty-eight-ounce

gloves and ride round on the boy's punches for a

while.

"The trouble is if you get a local who is a good

card he sometimes damages your fighters. Locals

10

usually pick the novice. The boss has got to watch

who he lets have a go at him. I've started off with

the novice. He goes down at the beginning of the

third round or when he gets a chance to jerk back

his head from one of my punches like as if he's been

hit bad.

'Then we go out on the board again and I start

a blue, lose my temper, and the boss challenges me

to have a go at Bob. W e go on like that till I have

a grudge fight with the champ., the last house of

the day. He has jumped off the board and taken a

swing at m e amongst the crowd where I'm abusing

him. W e bump a few people. It stirs them up when

punches are being swung right up against them.

You'll see it all tomorrow."

"What have you been doing today?" I asked.

"I've been down at the pub skiting my head off;

told the locals I was a spud digger. 'I'm going to have

a go at one of those blokes in the boxing tent on

the day of the show', I told them."

"Is that supposed to be your job, a spud digger?"

"Not always. The boss gets m e leading a bull

round sometimes. He gets a lend of it from a farmer.

It looks as if I've brought it to the show. I lead it past

the cattle man they say's never been knocked off his

this big cattle man they are all talking about? Where's

the cattle man they says never been knocked off his

feet? Is he in the audience now?'

"That's me,' I tell him. 'I'll fight any of those

mugs you've got up there.'

"He pretends to get wild.

" 'Hang up your bull and come up here', he shouts

at me.

"The crowd love it."

"Do you really like the life?" I asked him. "Where

do you go from here?"

"No place," he said. "There's no place you go

from here. You end up a plqnko with bells ringing in

your head or you might become a hanger-on in a

pub cleaning up the yard. Some get jobs in a factory

or somewhere if their eyes haven't gone and they

can see and hear and don't go stumbling, round like

as if the ground moves."

He stopped and rubbed his spread fingers through

his hair. "I dunno," he said, "I dunno. . . "

11

fiBffi The Barmah Forest Area is one of Victoria's im­

portant red-gum timber locations. The forest is situated along the Murray River approximately fifty miles east of Echuca. The area is of great historical interest as the aborigines lived in the forest for many years.

The red-gum timber is very important for building homes and also for railway sleepers. This means that only the best timber can be grown, so that many of the warped, twisted and diseased trees are being poisoned and ringbarked. The trees grow on an un­dulating flat plain with an occasional rise, so that when the Murray floods, the plain is covered with

water up to a depth of about six feet. The aborigines

who lived in the area had to live on the rises, and

they fished under the large trees. W h e n the flood

BARMAH FOREST AREA subsides the top surface of the ground dries quickly as it really consists of dead leaves and branches. This surface is in the form of humus, and large cracks appear in the ground about a foot apart during the summer period.

The trees are extremely wide at the base and are covered with a thick, tough bark. Some hundreds of years ago the aborigines built bark canoes from the bark of the gum, and the shapes of the canoes can still be clearly seen on the trees. Many of the trees

are attacked by insects and rot. There are many

species of orange spider which attack these trees and

which can also do harm to humans. O n e way in

which this happens is through the web of a certain

spider which is spread over the trunk of the gum

trees, and gives a nasty rash at the first contact. In

12

BY A. MCCARTHY ILLUSTRATION BY B. LAUCHLAN

due course an allergy is caused. The rash breaks out

again on many people if they enter a forest contain­

ing these spiders.

Much of the wild life of the area has been driven

away by the advent of tree fellers. The bird life in

the area is of great variety and includes many species

of waterfowl and many cockatoos. Animal life is

fairly scarce, and only an occasional wallaby can be

found.

The only other main industry in the area is cattle

raising. As food in the area is very sparse there are

not many head of cattle, but there are pockets of

thick scrub where grazing is possible. There is also

a small number of sheep.

For many centuries the Barmah forest region has

been occupied by large numbers of aborigines. Many

famous tribes have lived in the area and many famous

battles have been staged there. O n e of these battles

was staged on a large mound of sand by a number

of tribes. The trouble had been caused by the men

of a certain tribe stealing women from another camp.

This led to related tribes joining together and in the

ensuing battle many warriors were killed. W h e n the

trouble was righted, the bodies of the dead were

buried close to the battle ground.

Today the area is populated by less than a hundred

aborigines. An extremely high percentage of these

people, however, are halfcaste, and many live in an

aboriginal settlement across the Murray River. These

people are cared for by the N e w South Wales Gov-

13

ernment, but they live in sub-standard conditions.

The settlement consists of poorly-built shacks, and a

building in which school and church are held. W e

found that the children are quick learners and pro­

duce some remarkable art and craft work. Many of

the older aborigines carry on the ancient craft of

carving, and many fine pieces of work are sold to

tourists. Some finely carved boomerangs are an

example of this work.

From the Barmah Forest Area there have been col­

lected many invaluable and beautiful art objects

which hold great interest amongst overseas buyers.

Amongst them are finely coloured and carved emu

eggs. There are three especially famous eggs, two of

which are carved, the other painted.

The painted egg was produced by an aboriginal a

number of centuries ago. The materials used were

white and red ochres, and a number of other natural

colours.

The painting is of a battle between a wild dog and

a large kangaroo, while a setting sun can be seen

behind them.

The carved eggs were all produced about the same

time (with the exception of one) and are extremely

delicate pieces of work. Emu eggs contain layers in

the thick shell and in these layers the pictures are

carved. O n e carving is of the Sydney Harbour Bridge

and has been done in the last fifty years. A descrip­

tion of the bridge was given to the aborigine who

carved a marvellous replica of the bridge. The other

carved egg is of animals and is green and white.

These eggs are still in the area and are valued at

approximately fifty pounds each.

The timber in the forest has been estimated to be

able to last fifty years even without regrowth. Old

timber, however, has been replaced by new plan­

tations, and these newly planted trees are being

scientifically attended to. Disease is being abolished

by new methods and this is saving nearly all trees

planted. Only the trunk of the tree is used, so only

straight trees are allowed to flourish.

Recently in the area many locks were built to

control the flow of the Murray River, and the farmers

are thus helped to irrigate more land for farming.

This also helps to control the growth of trees to

some extent, as the trees' growth depends on the

rate of water consumption. This means that the area

can be made into one of the most productive in

Victoria.

Barmah Forest is unknown to most people, and

from an anthropologic and scientific outlook is of

great interest to educationalists. If it were made

known to more people, I feel that many more would

visit and take an active interest in its development.

14

After all, it was only an hour each day for two-

and-a-half weeks. I mean, any normal person should

have been able to cope. M y School Spirit, of course,

landed m e in the middle of it. W h e n I heard that

Leonie was needed for Apprenticeship Night Revue

practices and consequently someone had to fill the

vacancy, I thought I might help out, and conde­

scended to work in the College Cafeteria for the said

period of time. Little did I know.

"Pies and pasties over here, milk at that end, Tarax

and coke here, coffee down there, price list on the

wall, anything you don't know ask, now start serving,

dear," was about the total sum of my instructions

when first reporting on the job. I turned to gaze

upon those w h o m I was to serve and nearly fled there

and then. However, gathering together what rem­

nants of courage I had left, I bewilderedly faced the

multitude and looked into the face of my first cus­

tomer.

Poor boy. I am sure that many after him, what

with shortchange, overcharging, undercharging, or

utter failure to comprehend an order, felt that they

weren't being served but victimised. Before those

two-and-a-half weeks were up the patience of even

the most graciously condescending of them must have

been sorely tried.

BY J. GOODCHILD

ILLUSTRATION BY T. WARD

However, although I was often to blame for a lack

of completely smooth service, the fault was not

entirely mine. It's not easy to hold a cup beneath

a tap that spurts boiling milk over your hand; and

when a bottle of Coca-Cola on being opened sends

a brownish liquid film over the front of a pale-

coloured twinset, somehow it doesn't promote the

best of feelings between myself and the pause that

refreshes. There are a number of other annoyances

caused by inanimate objects, but even combining my

faults with those of the inanimates, only a small por­

tion of the cause of my grievances is covered.

The main trouble, of course, were the patrons,

more particularly male patrons. The Asian students

I found almost without exception to be clear in what

they wanted and to speak slowly and distinctly. And

the girls were fine, of course, always polite and

friendly. But, as 1 said, the males are horses of a

different colour.

Firstly, there was the type that asked for a pinta-

strawbflamlk or a sispnycofenpiwsauze or a cheeszn-

leducesanwich. O n being asked to repeat the order

for the fourth time they begin to become rather

annoyed, and look at you as if you were the most

empty-headed female in the school, at the same time

willing the name of art student another six feet into

15

the dust. If someone will please tell m e the name of

the language they use I will gladly take up a course

in it.

Next, there is the type that likes Choc-wedges. All

ice-cream is stored in a compartment on the far side

(from me) of the counter, and that particular kind

usually at the very bottom. Not being especially tall

I find it difficult enough to reach over and take ice­

creams from the top and middle layers, and when it

comes to the bottom layer it means leaning over so

far that head and upper body are completely lost

in with the ice-creams, while feet are off the ground.

Just a push and a slam of the lid and, lo and behold

— frozen art student. They suffer no compunction.

And the exact change bug. Even though the mere

fact that one can be added to one to make two,

does make me feel almost muzzy, still when asked for

a sixpenny coffee, given a shilling piece and told

that I must give sixpence change, I begin to feel

somewhat hostile toward that particular type of

patron.

Then, of course, there are the Ordinary Nuisance

and his friends. This one usually comes at the busiest

times. While you are frantically trying to serve every­

one at once he, trying not to grin, loudly mumbles

about how bad the service is and how hard the

pastry and how old the doughnuts, and makes other

just as unoriginal remarks. I try to ignore him.

Another favourite of mine is the type that asks for

a certain kind of sandwich, walks to the portion of

counter reserved for their making, and watches. It is

under his gaze that you fumble with lettuce that

won't sit flat on the bread, or grate cheese that just

sticks together, or forget the salt and pepper. His

eagle eyes immediately pick up any mistake and he

loudly and clearly tells you (and the rest of the cafe­

teria) of your faults.

Not all of m y work was done behind the counter.

Much of it consisted of collecting the empty bottles

that are left on the tables — or were left on the

tables until I was seen approaching. Suddenly they

are nowhere to be seen. Upon crawling around on

the floor I may discover them caught amongst the

legs or in the bag of some engineering student.

Occasionally a gentleman, much to the disgust of his

friends, will pick up a bottle from the floor for me,

but, as I said, only occasionally. If the bottles have

not climbed down to the floor, they have

gathered for a tete-a-tete in the middle of a table

that is usually completely surrounded by chairs and,

consequently, by boys. To reach the bottles, you

must stretch between and around the two most harm-

16

•vay.

e of the

for a bottle

the other end of the table.

mediately

nge can do

timing -ound to

group to place

as done far from

oush

-s to

rom-

: get the

tie.

g reat

aged this

e with hi

some-

s feet

the room. This hap-

:ondone.

•g male i

but it

i your

of the

teated

bbish.

worked in

had to be

>o early, as

it was left

le, and we

in the cafett -iat I

students and

raffle tickets; despite general cheers when armfuls

of bottles crashed /, to the floor; despite

males who came back to the counter four or five

times before getting all they finally wanted; despite

Oh

Experience.

one could write it off as

17

rjmmJfA n%mM&kM

THE JAZZ SCENE BY P. CUFFLEY

ILLUSTRATION BY D. MILLER

Most people think of jazz as something which

sprang out of the roaring twenties, but, in fact, most

of the music of the twenties actually sprang from jazz.

There is no precise date when jazz was born, but

it would be safe to say around about 1900. Of

course, elements of jazz were forming before this

date, and the late eighteen hundreds saw the heyday

of some of the greatest ragtime composers. Only a

small number of ragtime "classics" have survived, as

most of the early work lacked the qualities needed

for survival as an individual music form. However,

it was a major element in early jazz. A lot of original

so-called jazz bands were really only ragtime bands.

New Orleans was, of course, the birthplace of

Jazz. A city of vice and high living, much the same

as Las Vegas is today. The sporting houses, glittering

palaces of vice, were situated in Storyville and it was

there that jazz spent its early years. N e w Orleans

was founded by the French and so marching bands

were very popular and would play for every occa­

sion from a funeral to a Mardi Gras. The old French

marches and quadrilles represent another important

element in early jazz; the famous "Tiger Rag" was

originally a French quadrille. A large proportion of

the permanent population of the city were negroes.

They were the tradesmen, working all day and play­

ing jazz at night. Each belonged to two or more of

the lodges which abounded in the city, and it was

these lodges which employed the jazz bands to play

at the funerals and other functions. The funerals were

very impressive affairs with the deceased's various

lodges represented; the bands would play howling

blues and dirges on the way to the cemetery and,

on the way back, wild stomping jazz.

Some of the other elements which went to make

up jazz were the blues, work songs, prison songs,

street vendors' cries, Spanish music, and, most im­

portant of all, the rhythms brought over from Africa

by the enslaved negroes. The blues voiced the despair

of the oppressed and maltreated negroes. Even today

we can hear blues, low-down blues as they were

called, a primitive form of music which can reach

the heights of most beautiful emotion. Work songs,

prison songs, shouts, and the street vendors' cries,

all with their strange rhythmic patterns, reflected the

past of the negroes, lost in the depth of the dark

continent. These rhythms provide the solid frame­

work upon which the everchanging improvisation of

jazz is built.

Whole libraries of books have been written about

the early years of jazz; about the wild trumpet battles

which took place whenever two bands met in the

19

street, the picnic days, race meetings, street parades,

and about Basin Street, Canal Street, Perdido Street

and the famous haunts such as Mahogany Hall and

Lulu White's. Jazz flourished and grew in the bub­

bling atmosphere of N e w Orleans and became part

of the life of the city. The musicians, using the in­

struments which they got from the brass bands,

shaped it into an original and exciting music, giving

it a quality which would keep it fresh and alive

forever.

In 1917 the United States Navy decided to close

down the Storyville area as a number of its sailors

were getting into trouble there. Up until this point

jazz was known to few people outside of N e w

Orleans. The displaced musicians packed their instru­

ments and made their way up the Mississippi to

Chicago, St. Louis, and Memphis, and jazz became

known to the world. It influenced the world so much

that the period following was even called the "Jazz

Age".

The roaring twenties jumped to the sounds of King

Oliver, Johnny Dodds, Louis Armstrong, Jelly Roll

Morton, Bunk Johnson and Clarence Williams. Young

schoolboys would hang around the doors of the clubs

to listen to jazz. Among them was Benny Goodman,

a giant of a future period in jazz. Chicago was really

wild with prohibition, gang warfare and speakeasies.

Some of the bands would be playing flat out while

machine guns spat fire and bullets as two rival gangs

met in one of the thousands of clubs.

Some jazz lovers are inclined to place all jazz

played before 1930 into the class now known as

"trad" and anything after as modern. This is not a

very satisfactory classification, as there is no real

period where jazz changed completely; although as

a progressive art it has, of course, changed over the

years. A rather misleading point is that when the

white musicians took up jazz in the twenties they

called it Dixieland. The style then developed as a

thing in itself and not as part of the mainstream of

jazz. Today this Dixieland tends to be rather com­

mercialised and has a superficial sound to it which

cannot be considered as jazz. This is not to be con­

fused with some of the excellent N e w Orleans and

Chicago style bands which play in the present tradi­

tional revival.

After the twenties jazz became more sophisticated.

Efforts to create symphonic jazz resulted in George

Gershwin's famous "Rhapsody in Blue", a work which,

although not successful as jazz, was an extremely

good interpretation of the feeling and elements which

make up jazz. Musical giants such as Duke Ellington

20

and Count Basie gave jazz new dimensions and

pioneered the swing era which lasted until after the

Second World War. Swing could not be called pure

jazz as musicians were rather limited by the large

numbers in the bands. The mainstream of jazz which

ran parallel to the swing era was rather overshadowed

for many years but emerged after the war as be-bop,

progressive and modern jazz.

Modern jazz has developed in many directions and

many of the avant garde styles are now closely asso­

ciated with modern symphonic music. The Modern

Jazz Quartet have developed a form of jazz which

is part chamber music and is called "third stream".

Modern jazz greats such as Miles Davis, Dave Bru-

beck, John Cottrane and Thelonious Monk have given

us some of the most exciting music of the age. I

think it would be safe to say that contemporary jazz

and symphonic music are the only real modern forms

of music in the true sense of the word. So-called

modern popular music is only the same old themes

that people have been listening to for years.

The jazz scene at present is rather complicated.

Here in Australia, and in most of the world, a tradi­

tional revival is in full swing; this is looked on with

distaste by many of the modernists who find it hard

to get large audiences for their more progressive

style. Newcomers often find themselves caught up

between the two schools of thought. This is a pity

because anyone with a real understanding of the

music should appreciate jazz in all its forms. Modern

jazz is jazz in its most legitimate form because it is

everchanging; traditional jazz must be static if it is

in the pure Chicago or N e w Orleans style. This is

the point which provides endless argument for jazz

lovers. I have heard traditional style bands recreate

jazz classics and give to them all the excitement and

creativity of the originals; and in the same concert

modern groups playing in a style which seemed

superficially different and yet underneath was the

same pure jazz feeling which has been in existence

for seventy years.

Today jazz is considered an art. Many ask why.

The answer is that jazz, like all arts, provides the

musician with unlimited opportunities for expression

and experimentation. With his materials, the jazz

musician can create works of art as beautiful as any

yet known. He must, of course, be a master and

there is no doubt that many of today's jazz musicians

are truly masters. The jazz scene today is exciting,

and the future is assured. Experimental jazz today is

the accepted music of tomorrow.

21

/

HUNTING is m y hobby and sport BYALY O N G

H1USTRAT/ON BY M. GURNEY

The animal most frequently hunted in Malaya is

the wild boar. The reasons for hunting it are numer­

ous. The wild boar is regarded as the worst among

pests to farmers in Malaya, just as rabbits are to

Australians. There are so many of them that some­

times they can be found less than thirty miles from

the capital of Malaya. You can shoot as many as

you like — if you can get them, of course. More­

over the meat is quite tasty.

There are various methods of shooting the boar.

The most common method is called "Beating". This

is perhaps the most expensive, as many shooters,

cars, beaters (people who enter the forest to scare

the animals out by making noises), and, above all,

well-trained dogs are involved.

W h e n a proper forest is chosen for shooting, the

shooters move in to surround the edges of the forest,

usually standing a few hundred yards apart.

During this operation everyone should be as quiet

as possible, otherwise the wild animals inside the

forest might hear and would make a run for it. After

the forest is surrounded the last person to take his

place signals the beaters, who then enter the forest

with their dogs.

Having entered the forest the beaters begin to

make as much noise as possible. Crackers, gongs,

sticks or whatever things can make a noise are used.

As soon as the wild boars hear the noises they tend

to move about, wondering what is happening. By

their movements the dogs pick up their trail. Natur­

ally, the dogs start chasing and barking at the boars.

Being chased, the boars try to get away but they

are usually out-run.

From here on the real fun begins, as the hunters

are alert, anxious, excited or even nervous. Standing

with his shotgun in his hand, the shooter has to keep

his eyes and ears open for the slightest movement

or sound.

W h e n a boar dashes out of the forest the shooter

has to be quick and accurate. Sometimes it hesitates

at the edge of the forest, undecided in taking its

direction to run. Here even an inexperienced shooter

ought to be able to shoot it, while the boar exposes

its whole body in a perfect target.

Sometimes when the boar is wounded it makes a

desperate move and may head towards the shooter.

This often gives a misleading belief that the boar is

savage. Frankly, I wish it was, so that there might

be more fun.

25

4iy&.

26

What has happened to the bearskin? Alas! It has

gone out of fashion. W h y ? W e need only look at

the changing fashions of this century to see how the

course of events has influenced styles.

^t the beginning of this century, before the First

d War, we find fashion on a completely different

Fashionable clothes were worn only by the

select few of the upper class. These women who

lived a life of leisure had wardrobes of innumerable

outfits which fashion dictated as necessary. They had

tea-gowns, afternoon gowns, evening gowns, house

frocks, garden-party frocks, beach frocks, cycling VSA JHB^^B^ ^

costumes and many more. Each outfit was designed,

made and worn for that occasion only.

was the Edwardian period, exciting, perhaps —

large, large hats loaded down with flowers, flounces

and feathers; not only feathers but whole birds. The

ladies' chests were pushed forward and their bustles

pushed back, forming S-shaped bodies, moulded by

squeezing into strongly-boned corsets. Their waist­

lines measured from sixteen to nineteen inches. These

corsets were often the cause of women fainting at

the slightest disturbance; their ribs were crushed

against their lungs, and their stomachs and intes­

tines pushed into unnatural shapes and positions.

if'"* Feather-boas, fur muffs, hobble-skirts and leg-o'-

mutton sleeves; high, high necklines during the day

and low, low necklines for the evening, all helped to

form the fashions that reigned during the first decade

of this century.

With the beginning of the First World War,

fashion was modified by necessity. Many girls had

begun working, wearing shorter, fuller skirts, Gibson-

Girl blouses, and long buttoned boots. The war

restricted the creativeness of fashion and many w o m e n

wore uniforms or more practical clothes to enable

them to work. It was during this time that the well-

known twenties fashions evolved. "Fashions, like

flowers, are longer in bud than in bloom."

In the post-war years, fashion was revolutionised.

The pronounced feature throughout was "Youth". A

w o m a n writer of the day commented: "Until a fresh

feminine silhouette becomes popular there will be

no basic changes in style. W e w o m e n must look

young at all costs, the price being, no curves. To

clothe a breastless, hipless, waistless body so that

it should nevertheless be recognisably feminine

enough to attract the male is becoming a problem."

Their skirts became shorter and shorter, and their

waistlines, or should I say hiplines, slipped further

and further down below the hips. Pudding-basin hats

were low over the eyes. Furs and frills trimmed end­

less edges of stripes, while long beads swung wildly

as their owners danced the Charleston and black-

bottom.

During these years the fashions moved on with the

pace of time, slowly regaining femininity. The world­

wide depression of the thirties turned styles almost

uniform, all ready-made with girls looking alike

throughout the country. Superficial class distinctions

in dress were levelled out. N o new exciting fashions

developed, designers relied on weak and unconvinc­

ing revivals of past fashions. They revived Victorian

and Grecian styles in evening dress; and other

fashions were said to resemble the "Naughty

Nineties". O n e critic of the time said of evening

dress-. "After a certain hour of the evening one

can show almost everything except one's ankles."

Clothes were becoming more practical and

sports clothes came into vogue. Slacks, then called

"Daks", were constantly worn. This period was halted

by the Second World War, when fashion more or less

ceased. W o m e n wore anything that suited them for

their war-work. W o m e n of these times tried to keep

27

up their femininity with the heavy use of make-up lead us to believe that m e n will become as fashion-

and permanently waved hair. conscious as women or even more so.

This continued until 1947 when the " N e w Look" With this revolutionary new trend in fashion w e

more important tasks. The

arrived. It recalled, perhaps, the least appropriate of see the growing use 0f the new synthetic materials.

styles, the draped dowdiness of the eighties, Their easier |aundering a||ows tne working women of

developed, and fashion began recalling itself after today extra time for their

the effects of the war. ^ Afl^J jjjijj^^^xpressic^'l^th^yno'dern mind is changing the

T, e.^. ,L . . . .. 'A/ i .1 traditional fashions, and styles are becoming more The fifties saw the introduction of nylon, the won­

der-material that you could wash at*TJ|Rynj

the next day. More materials became available a

progressive. The freedom and practicability of

, modern living are shown in the free and comfortable

fashions suddenly took a swing to full, full skirts garments of today.

worn over the top of two, three or four heavily

starched petticoats.

It was during this decade that the males of

If i \

tmg to speculate about the future. Al-

gh though,, w e cannot foresee those accidental events

which "produce changes, w e are n o w getting a

time began to emerge from their cocoons. Colours glimpse of ^direction in which fashions seem to

suddenly were being seen on men^Tthe firsMimeV be moving.~Previokisly museums have collected the

in centuries — bright jumpers, socks, shirts and ties 7°st exquisi,e specimens of fashion representative of

came into vogue. Today men are vying with women the a9e- The majority of our garments are mass-pro-

in the world of fashion. Their pleated and frilled duced< and these '""strate present-day life. Perhaps

evening shirts, checked and striped trousers, silk our museums should collect examples of these un-

shirts, pointed-toe shoes and boots (and now I hear important garments before they vanish. To our heirs,

American men are wearing new stretchy nylon suits), therefore, we can at least leave our old clothes.

28

A TRIBUTE

'oem and illustration by J. Leech.

/To Monsieur Marceau, the great

French mime who visited Australia

recently.)

What does he do? This man.

What does he say? If he can.

Who wants to see him? This man.

Why do we wish to? If we can.

Why does he halt us? This man.

Not a syllable uttered? Silence can,

Speak. We are swayed. Yet we've stayed. We have wept Yet we've kept ushed. What does he do?

C'est beau. does he say?

This Monsieur Marceau.

A

PENSIVE MOOD

By G. Mcintosh

Walking Lonely as the night Silent Pensive mood I ponder, On Life Its essentials and obligations.

Questions Making ignorance frustration Life puzzling, So we drift Lazily Unthinkingly, Until rudely aroused Through our own conflicting emotions.

Awareness Our capacity for feeling life Vital As nature to the living One feels Compassion, Exuberance Grief and Love Eternal elements being Life.

Hurt And suffering can we feel If so Be not afraid For what proof Living Than this The touch and saturating deepness Of aliveness Life.

THEY TELL US BY J. LEECH

ILLUSTRATION BY L. BECHERVAISE

Once it was flowers and cut flower-pots. N o w it

was thistles and bottles. Not the bottle and the

dribbling candle, but the bottle for its shape, and

maybe its history which led to sentimentality and

goonish smiles and tears for the memory. What a

fool to keep bottles for past flings! What a fool to

feel sometimes sad or hungry or depressed, as every­

body else did. What an absolute clown to feel miser­

able and heartbroken as the songs sung about and

films wept about!

"I don't want to react to these things. W h y should

I? Must I persist in being humanistic about them?

W h y do they always scream that it's Human Nature?

That we are all basically the same? Must I have my

meals at the same time? Sleep when the moon is

high? Need a home and money?" "But it is Human

Nature". They smile. "And you can go on a diet,

and you can work on night shifts, and even spend

your time hitch-hiking next summer!"

"Rot, rot, rot."

" W e don't believe you could be completely happy

as a hermit, being as you are, a mere child, in a

peculiar world." Still smiling. "It is only Human

Nature to picture oneself some sort of nihilist, you

know." 'There is no such thing as complete and

eternal happiness, but I realise that. And as happiness

is rarely recognised I'm quite prepared to forego it."

"You really speak quite a lot of rubbish." They

patronise. " W e are quite happy."

"But look at you! The books you read, the films

you see, the people you speak to! Of course, you're

'happy', you have known nothing better!"

"How old are you?"

"This 'happiness' you speak of will not last. Happi­

ness is an intermediate state — 'before' and 'after'

are the ones that press. ..." O n e must keep up

the 'argument'. "I want to be me, and discover and

create the things you never discovered or created. I

don't want — I don't want to — "

" 'Conform' is the only word you people use, isn't

it? The trouble is that there are so many of you

non-conforming you are actually being conformists

to each other. You really make us smile!"

"You are always so quick to imagine that that word

forms our entire vocabulary. I've risen above all that

..." Surely they can see? "I merely feel that there

are so many things to do and see and find, and I

don't want to waste time experiencing such things

as sorrow and love and anxiety ... I want to rise

above them, until I've discovered and created as is

possible...."

"You're talking in circles."

30

'Discovered and created as is possible of

of.

"... Of someone who is young and talented, and

who claims to be a completely different and revolu­

tionary breed of animal to 'everybody else.' . . .

We're not laughing, w e proclaimed this ourselves

once, although we do laugh at ourselves then."

And somebody else will add, "It is Time that will

change you, and yet satisfy you. ..."

And "Never underestimate Love. ..."

However, we will never listen, and yet we will

arrive at the same years and conclusions and ex­

perience the same forms of happiness as the next

person. ... Or so they say. . . .

// /£.' *uUf:m •

\l 4 U*

\

A " ^ —

V. %

* >

8&

•>. •»"

JORDAN JUBILEE BY A. JORDAN

ILLUSTRATION BY S. HARVEY AND T. WARD

I little thought when, following some persistence

on m y part, m y father eventually accompanied me

for an interview with the art master, that I should be

associated with the College for the next fifty years as

both student and instructor. What prompted m e to

join the classes I am not sure; perhaps some encour­

agement of m y efforts at the primary school or my

desire to create something with my hands.

It was natural that I should join the Boys' Junior

School when it was formed in February, 1913. I

think w e started with an enrolment of some seventy

boys, and what a wild first six months it was! The

students arrived ahead of the permanent staff which

was not appointed until commencement of third term

(there were four terms of approximately ten weeks).

Up till then w e were "controlled" by two or three

inexperienced teachers. All the shouting and ruler-

banging on desks by harassed staff had little effect

in taming us raw recruits. It was an every-day occur­

rence, while a teacher was chasing an unruly cus­

tomer in or out of a classroom, for some bright

character to take the opportunity of altering the

hands of the teacher's watch, which was usually

sitting on the bench, or of setting a trap on his return

following the chase

Art classes were conducted in the two rooms over

the main office. . . . M y early recollections were of

walls lined with inanimate plaster casts, a few geo­

metric models and the art "library" which consisted

of half-a-dozen books on good old English plants,

applied design, historic ornament, leadlight windows,

perspective and geometrical drawings. Much of our

training consisted of working from casts of classic

ornament and figures. W e made meticulous drawings

in outline, tortured studies in light and shade; w e

painted them, modelled them and carved them. W e

rarely complained, for this was the traditional art

training based on a stolid English syllabus.

Stanley Tompkins, a bright product of the Ballarat

School of Mines, was Art Master. His enthusiasm and

skill as a teacher, designer and craftsman became

infectious and it was not long before I was endeavour­

ing to emulate him. I joined all the evening classes

available, which included metal work, drawing,

" leathercraft, modelling and so on. Even this did npt

satisfy m y hunger, for I joined a Saturday morning

cabinet-making class conducted by the late Alex

Consland. There are still some w h o will remember

33

this lusty Scot, and I well recall his sound advice

when I was making heavy weather of sawing a plank

of wood: "Stop, Mbn, Stop! Let the b . . . saw do

the work!"1 H o w I wish I could apply this principle

to my golf when ploughing around the course.

An additional studio was built between the Domes­

tic Economy and the then existing studio. This must

have been an important development, but it was not

until 1917 that the foundation stone was laid for the

present building known as the Art School. The

ground floor was occupied by the Boys' School

for many years Until the building was taken over

for Art. Full day classes were established with a

steady increase in the number of students and the

introduction of additional classes in pottery, life

drawing, graphic a.rts and painting.

Because of the rather vague but increasing de­

mands of industry for artists,, it became evident that

the rigid and unimaginative syllabus would have to

be drastically revised to meet the practical needs of

commerce.

A mild concession was made by the introduction of

what was then known as the Commercial Art Certi­

ficate. This change did not go far enough and it

was left to the Art School to take the bit in its teeth

and pioneer a course which incorporated the best

of the past with the practical needs of the future.

This must be recorded as a revolutionary move and

one which focussed much attention on the Art School.

While the new order did not have the blessing of

the Education Department, the gratifying results bore

ample evidence of its soundness and popularity

among the students and employers and laid the

foundation for further progress.

Our first Director, Mr. J. R. Tranthim-Fryer, a man

of fine intellect and lovable personality, was usually

to be found in his studio in the Art building absorbed

in his modelling, sculpture or experimental work in

the field of ceramics. These were leisurely days — no

telephone except in the office, no loudspeakers, no

cars, no complicated timetables, little or no form-

filling. What could have been a more fitting symbol

than the Director's bicycle, always to be seen against

the stairway in the main foyer? After his arrival it

would not be long before he donned a disreputable

coat bespattered with plaster, and retired to his

studio. The story goes that an important person who

had an appointment with Mr. Fryer was directed to

34

his studio. O n putting his head around the door he

returned in an irate manner to the office to complain

that the only person he saw was a workman doing

some plaster work. To work under Fryer as a modell­

ing student while he expounded words of wisdom

and encouragement spiced with good humour was

a privilege and a stimulating experience.

W e were fortunate in having as President and

Founder another gentleman of great personality and

drive, the late Honourable George Swinburne. A

vital man of great wisdom and energy, always in a

hurry yet with time to drop in and to shake you by

the hand, ask after your health and enquire whether

there was anything you wanted. The reply to the

latter question was usually in the negative, but "it

was not at all uncommon for a cheque to arrive

following one of these frequent visits, for the purchase

of some article of equipment or books. I do not think

it will ever be known how much financial aid came

to the college from this great and generous man.

During most of my early days at Swinburne I

lived in nearby boarding establishments, ̂ and for

quite a period had as stable-mates the late D. D.

Griffiths (later Head of Engineering and Vice-

Principal) and Stan Tompkins. W e lived under the

domination of a typical landlady with a husband

usually the worse for drink. A rough but kindly soul,

she would do anything for us; but she drew the line

when, on one occasion, Griff., well known for his

practical jokes, placed m y boots outside the bedroom

door. This resulted in much bad language and abuse

with near expulsion. Incidentally, I never saw the

boots again.

W e three spent much time on the College premises

and it was the usual thing to stroll around there of

a Sunday morning to find other members at work,

including the Director and the head of the plumbing

department, Charles Wright. Much reliance on each

other and on other departments was necessary to

35

get things done, for one did not have the luxury of

maintenance staff of any kind.

The Annual Art Ball and term dances were/the

highlight of the social activities. They were the only

social functions for many years -— and involved much

preparation in the way of decorations, hand-polish­

ing floors, and the "temporary" removal of furniture

and hundreds of casts still with us for many years

like a rash on the walls. It must be remembered that

all these functions were held in the art studios and

it is to the credit of the builders that our stairs stood

the regular strain of our coaxing a piano to the top

floor. Supper was the responsibility of the female

students and the dispensing of drinks was usually

36

feft in the capable hands of Griff. He enlisted the

services of more creative engineers and chemists

who designed elaborate contraptions of tubes and

demijohns, Heath-Robinson style, to distribute the

flow of grog to the thirsty. '

Mr. F. W. Green, who was appointed Director

following the death of Mr. Tranthim-Fryer in 1928,

must have enjoyed these functions for he was usually

to be seen mixing with the dancers and joining in

the fun.

The College was growing every year and bore

evidence of the wisdom and long-range vision of

our founder. The engineering school, under the

direction of F. W . Green, achieved a high reputation

and continued to expand under his exacting and

experienced administration. In looking through our

Jubilee "Open Door" to refresh my memory of some

past events I was interested to note that F. W . Green

kept an accurate diary covering his association with

the College.

As a Council-controlled school we have much to

be thankful for, and it was not until m y position

brought m e in closer contact with members of the

Council (as has been m y privilege for some years)

that I was able to fully appreciate their interest and

devotion to the College and the welfare of all con­

cerned. To this must be coupled the never-flagging

interest of the Swinburne family, whose practical

assistance and personal influence have contributed

something that cannot be assessed by mere words.

Out of this early period of self-reliance, do-it-

yourself and co-operation grew a wonderful fellow­

ship among the staff and there developed a great

pride in S.T.C.

To work under three Directors, all differing in

personality but all dedicated men, has been a unique

experience. While of necessity instruction and the

machinery of administration have undergone revolu-

tidnary changes, the old spirit still survives.

My life at the College has been a gratifying one,

punctuated with two breaks. The first came during

the last war when I was seconded to the Department

of H o m e Security as a camouflage officer for civil

work and, later, planned dispersal and camouflage

for the R.A.A.F. in outback Queensland. The second

occurred during 1955 when I was granted long-

service leave and took advantage of this to visit

England and the Continent.

37

While on holiday during term vacation, With the

late D. D. Griffiths, I met my first wife. Thirteen years

after her death, in 1947, I was to marry his widow,

to whom I originally gave instruction in drawing as

a student in the Art School. She had been awarded

a scholarship in Domestic Art (how glad I am now

that it was not for art) and was doing certain subjects

at Swinburne. The Art School has been responsible

for many romances which have led to the altar, but

little did I think that one of my students would be­

come my wife forty years later.

While these rambling notes spring from my first

and early association with the College, it would be

remiss of me not to pay high tribute to our present

Director, Mr. Tylee, who came to us during one of

our most difficult periods. War had not long ended

and much had to be done after a forced period of

lack of funds and development. Re-adjustment and

assessment for immediate and future development

to meet the demands of increasing population and

the unprecedented growth of secondary industry

have presented many formidable problems in traln-

38

ing and accommodation. There is ample evidence that

our Director has not let the grass grow under his

feet and I feel without doubt that both the present

and future generations will have much to thank him

for. Let's hope that he, like his predecessor, is

keeping a diary, for it should make interesting read­

ing for the future.

I feel sure that somebody will ask the question

whether, if I had my life over again, I would follow

the same course. A silly question — and the answer

is yes, but I should hope to go about it in a different

way. Some regrets? Yes, but I am comforted in the

words of Sir Irving Benson ... "A life without regret

is a life without growth or gain. ..."

In conclusion, I should like to say "Thank you" to

the many past and present students who have con­

tributed so much to making my life at Swinburne

such a pleasant and stimulating one. I trust that all

who eventually leave will be able to look back with

the same happiness and satisfaction that it has been

my good fortune to enjoy.

<K

Poems by J. Leech

LES FICELLES SIX

This guitar These fingers, Strings Tarnished Quivering Then taut. This melody These ears, Throbbing Thudding Tireless Then caught.

A ceaseless Drumming and Heedless Strumming Of copper Bound.

A

IV

M

Illustration by K. Jewell

THIS SWING

As a child's toy It rattles on. Horns And drum-beat. A muted squeal The grind Of some wheel. Hiccough Blare Strings in vibration Syncopation. Tips of Fingers Press Careless Silver valves And copper string. This Swing.

BY A. MAWSON

ILLUSTRATION BY L. BECHERVAISE

The world is a school. The students in the school are

individual people, as are animals and all life. The

teachers are nature and experience. The lessons are

knowledge, wisdom, work and love which are to be

learnt thoroughly. The goal is God, the Kingdom of

Heaven, Samadhi, Nirvana, Self-Realisation, fulfilment

in the highest sense of the term.

The students are many, the seekers few, and the

enlightened ones are extremely rare. However, few

though they may be, the graduates of this course

are to be found all over the world at some time and

have been present at some places at all times. Most

of them have lived in Asia and especially India. (Per­

haps I am biased here; I have a more than usual

interest in India.) Buddha, Rama, Krishna, Jesus, Mu­

hammad, Shankara, Ramanuja and Ramakrishna are

among the best known of the saints. Some of the

great prophets have been the originators of the

world's great religions. Many have lived their lives

quietly and are only occasionally heard of.

The teachings of these Buddhas (Buddha means

enlightened one, or simply "a wise man") agree on

many major aspects and differ in the less important

details. The differences are to be found mainly in

the variety of social rules and in the exact details of

worship. These apparently incompatible teachings are

often due to the different social conditions of the

times and countries where these Rabbis were edu­

cated and where they taught. For example, Christ

taught that a man may marry only once, Hindus can

marry only once, but Moslems are allowed to marry

several wives.

The greatest differences in religion are those of

ritual and worship. The early forms of worship were

often sacrificial offerings. Jewish, Indian and Arabian

early religious rites all included the killing of animals,

followed by burning on a sacrificial altar, as an offer­

ing to the particular God.

Modern ritual has evolved out of these early rites

and has been enriched with much variety and many

additions throughout the ages. Much Christian cere­

mony includes the Roman and Greek "pagan wor­

ship" in an altered form to suit the conquering re­

ligion. Similarly, Vedic practices have been absorbed

into Buddhism. The practice of church-going contrasts

sharply with "idol-worship" in India, but closer in­

spection shows that the idols are merely material

representations of different aspects of G o d or of

Avataras (Incarnations of God). Indeed, worship be­

fore a statue of the Buddha is in many ways not very

different from worship before a statue of Christ on

the Cross. Although external worships certainly' go

from one extreme to the other, all have some common

features.

Religious teachers agree in their fundamentals.

Love, wisdom, work and morality are found in all.

The proportion of each varies from teacher to teacher.

Another common point is the basic unity of all crea­

tion. Early in Vedic thought comes: "That which exists

is one. Sages call it by various names." In the Upani-

40

shads, which are later Indian scriptures, it is said:

"Self-luminous is that Being, and formless. He dwells

within ail and without all." And again, "Taught by a

teacher who knows the Self and Brahma (God) as

one, a man leaves vain theory behind and attains to

truth." "Believe m e that I am in the Father and the

Father in Me." The divine avatara, Lord Krishna, says

in the Bhagavad Gita: "I am the All, from which All

proceedeth. From M e floweth out the Soul of Souls

— the Universal Life — the O n e Life of the Uni­

verse." This is the unity of life upon which rest all

ideas of love, unselfishness, brotherhood of mankind

and morality. If I hate anyone I am really hating

myself. If I hurt anyone I am hurting myself." "Inas­

much as ye have done it unto the least of these M y

brethren ye have done it unto Me." Otherwise why

should I love m y brother or be unselfish?

Love |s truth. Love makes life worthwhile. Love

gives meaning to emptiness.

"Just as with her own life

a mother shields from hurt

her one, her only child,

let all-embracing thoughts

for all that lives be thine,

— an all-embracing love

for all the universe

in all its heights and-depths

•-• and breadth, unmarred by

hate within, unstinted love,

not rousing enmity. ,

Thus spake the Lord Buddha.

"Jesus said unto him Thou shalt love the Lord thy

G o d with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with

all thy might. This is the first and great commandment.

And the other is like unto it. Thou shalt love thy

neighbour as thyself. O n these two commandments

hang all the law and the prophets'." The Bhagavad

Gita also expounds the doctrine of love. "He of

w h o m I have just spoken, is of a steady and equable

mind, and devotion is ever manifested by him — he

verily loveth Me, and I him."

The common ground in religious teaching of un­

selfishness and morality is beautifully expressed in

one of Buddhism's central themes, namely, Buddha's

Eightfold Path. This consists of right views, right

intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood,

right effort and right mindfulness which lead to right

concentration (nirvana). Lord Krishna, a central pro­

phet in Hinduism says, "... he is Very dear and

near to Me, who harbours no malice or ill-will to

any being or thing; who is the friend and lover of

all Nature,,who is merciful, free from pride and vanity

and selfishness; who is undisturbed, by pleasure or

pain, being balanced in each, who is patient under

wrongs and injustice and is forgiving, contented, ever

devout, with mind, senses and passions ever under

control, and whose mind and understanding is ever

fixed on Me."-

Although I have not quoted from the Koran, it,

too, preaches fair play, worship of Allah (God), and

41

kindness and forgiveness to fellow men. In many

respects the Koran is like parts of the Old Testament.

Some of the stories — for example, that of Joseph

who was taken to Egypt and interpreted Pharaoh's

dreams — are retold in the Koran.

The real proof of the unity of religion, however,

lies not in the basic similarities in the important scrip­

tures, but in the practical evidence of the saints. Saints

of Christianity, Buddhism, all forms of Hinduism,

Jainism and Muhammadenism have all shown by their

lives the truth of their religious practices. Well is H

said that by their fruit shall you know them. For how

could these spiritual giants and saints of all religions

have attained enlightenment if only one of their many

religions leads to salvation?

"As the different streams having their sources in

different places all mingle their water in the sea,

so, O Lord, the different paths which men take

through different tendencies, various though they

appear, crooked or straight, all lead to Thee."

(Vedas)

"I am in every religion as the thread through a

string of pearls. Wherever thou seest extra­

ordinary power raising and purifying humanity,

know thou that I am there." (Bhagavad Gita)

These basic teachings of religious conduct follow

the Law of Karma. Karma is simply cause and effect.

The whole of science depends on cause and effect

for its logical consistency. If the same cause could

produce any effect whatsoever, scientists would be

completely at a loss in trying to give any explanation

of the phenomenon except that it was haphazard.

The word Karma comes from the Sanskrit root kri,

to do, and its meaning covers the work, cause and

effect, and fate.

Karma means that w e reap reward of every act w e

do, be it good or bad. There is no chance or luck

involved. If I win Tatt's, for example, it is because of

some good action I have done in the past. Thus m y

personality now is a result of m y past activities. Karma

is not fatalistic, although ft means fate. It gives m e

the opportunity to decide, because if m y present

personality is dependent on past activities, I can

determine m y future by m y present acts.

W e reap as w e sow. W e do the right things not

because w e will be rewarded or punished by some

God, but rather because these things are good.

To reach the ultimate goal of religion w e must there­

fore follow the actions that lead to that goal. And

this is true whatever path those actions may point to

in our time and place.

The Bhagavad offers the key to Karma. W e are

bound to the law of cause and effect only when

there is attachment to objects. 'To work yow have

the right, but not to the fruits thereof." Non-attach­

ment is found in nearly all great teachers. In Buddha's

four noble truths occurs: " N o w this, monks, is the

noble truth of the cause of pain: the craving, which

tends to rebirth, combined with pleasure and lust

42

finding pleasure here and there; namely, the craving

for passion, the craving for existence, the craving for

non-existence. N o w this, monks, is the noble truth of

the cessation of pain, the cessation without a re­

minder of craving, the abandonment, forsaking, re­

lease, non-attachment . . . this is the noble eightfold

way." In the Bible, one man would not follow Jesus

because of his attachment to wealth. "It is easier for

a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for

a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God." Mys­

ticism and miracles are affirmed by many, denied by

many, and practised by few. Spiritual exercises, if

improperly practised, can be very dangerous. They

may even lead to insanity. For this reason and be­

cause they can only be taught personally, these prac­

tices are not widely known and are not given in­

discriminately. They are transmitted through the age-

old method of Guru (teacher) and Chela (pupil).

Spiritual exercises and the miraculous are, however,

to be found in most religions and practised by most

saints.

Miracles are not supernatural. Although they may

appear to transcend natural laws they do operate on

natural laws. These laws may, however, be of mental

or spiritual nature and are little known. Some of the

"miraculous" phenomena are now being investigated

by Western scientists. Telepathy, clairvoyance and

other associated phenomena have been verified under

rigorous scientific checks.

Most teachers warn against seeking supernatural

powers. The person who devotes himself to develop­

ing levitation, for example, has really strayed off the

main path leading to the true goal.

The Kingdom of Heaven is not a land filled with

milk and honey. It is, more correctly, a state of being.

A state of conscientiousness, of bliss, of truth, of

being. By its very nature the "Goal" is above thought

and words and cannot be explained in words. Only

glimpses and analogies of it can be given and these

are wholly inadequate. The rough analogy of the

sun and a pool of water may be taken. The sun casts

myriads of reflections on the water. Each reflection

represents an individual and the sun represents the

Absolute. Thus the true nature of each reflection is

the same, namely, the sun. But, because of the water

being a little muddy and somewhat disturbed, each

reflection appears different from the sun and different

from all the other reflections. Lamadhi Nirvana or the

"Goal" is reached when the water is clear and still,

and the reflection becomes the sun. Really the reflec­

tion is the sun all the time, but there is no clear

realisation of it until it is still.

In this interesting if rather crude analogy the clear

reflection is the manifestation of the sun. This explains

the passage, which is much misunderstood, "No man

cometh to the Father (sun) but by the Son."

"ARISE! A W A K E ! and stop not until the Goal is

reached."

43

jr*.

I <» • > "

/

summer misfits BY J. LEECH

ILLUSTRATION BY F. DOCKING

It was funny when the sun went in yet the sky

was still clear blue. All blue except for the little

patch of sky behind the chair where Liza was lying.

Then the sun came out again, the garden regained

all its depth and contrast. Where Liza was she could

see the plum tree, all green, and moving only a bit

in the breeze. She could also see small pale-green

round shiny things that were going to be plums. But,

she thought, as some sort of bird dived past her in

the garden, they won't let them see many of them

this time. All year she forgot about the fruit-trees

and what they could produce, if looked after pro­

perly, but when summer came she immediately

thought about juicy plums and harder nectarines and

furry peaches and things. She thought about them

Indeed, but when she actually saw them, they were

laid out in rows in Italian people's fruit shops. So

there were the fruit frees, being completely normal

all three seasons, and completely wrong in the fourth,

because of the greedy birds. But, oh well, she

couldn't, do much, short of spraying the trees with

whatever people sprayed their orchards with. Nothing

like that this year, though, for Liza. Here she was,

actually sick in December. O n e lovely thing was that

"it" waited until Liza's exams were finished: and yet

not long enough for the very hot weather to set in.

So there she was, as I said, pushed outside in the

warm sun in cotton pyjamas and sunglasses.

Of course, there were lots of bad things over the

good things, about it all. N o parties till the N e w Year

was one ("this year every one'll have one, just wait

and see", said the pessimist), and no exciting Christ­

mas shopping was another. And, of course, no job

to earn money to buy the Christmas presents was

just awful. However, with willing servants around

her and a careful count of pocket-money, she'd man­

age somehow. It really was funny not using make-up

for two weeks, or back-combing your hair, or worry­

ing about shoes and laddered stockings and things.

Working in a shop she would definitely have worried;

This was a completely new way to spend all Decem­

ber. Really it was a bit of November, too, if you

counted "the hatching period". But there were so

many things to think about, there in bed, or out in

the old sun. And it was glorious, it really was, not to

think "I must get up", or "Surely there's some work

I should be doing?" It was pure heaven.

Many people, naturally, would hate the prospect

of a bed confinement. At first, yes, she had to admit,

she thought it sounded awful. But, then, it had been

45

dreary weather, and she really had felt terrible.

Perhaps it was just the pink pill she had to take to

get her to sleep. ("Ha, ha! It'll give you a hangover

and make you feel as if you've really been out! Ha,

ha!") Perhaps that was the only difference between

now and then. N o w she still felt a little uninterested

in food and her eyes became sore sometimes and

her glands still persisted in being swollen. Oh, what

did it matter? The doctor said she had glandular

fever and must rest, so there was no need to try to

ask herself each morning if she wasn't feeling quite

fit. It was that guilty conscience again, the one that

nagged "You must get up", and "Surely there's some

work you should be doing?" H o w funny, but how

marvellous to think that was how her mind worked

all year! Suddenly something "hit" her. M y gosh,

here she was (again) actually being like a fruit tree!

Normal all the year round, then in the fourth season,

which was the summer, absolutely bared of all nor-*

mality!

Liza sat straight up and really thought about it fill

she laughed. All the year she would keep asking

herself was she doing the right thing, being efficient

and keeping up with everybody else, then in summer

she would forget all these Elses and be Herself: do

what she wanted to do. Or "go along" without fuss

what-e'er happened to her, that was more correct

this time. The poor fruit trees couldn't do anything

else but let the birds dig their beaks into the unripe

fruit and destroy the crop, while Liza couldn't do

anything else but lie in bed and forget about the

struggles of the year, or what should be happening

working in the big store. And so the plum tree

forgot about what should be occurring, too, and Liza

felt glad she was out there, sifting in the backyard,

sort of smiling and green, and quite prepared to let

December (well, nearly all of it) pass, for this year,

in such a completely different way.

THOUGHTS OF AUTUMN

By J. Leech

Autumn tells of brown and gold,

Burnished, and crackling to the touch

Of the hand that knows of old

These joys that are but once a year.

If you lie 'mid the colours and try

To count, rearrange, or paint them,

How you'll strive! then ask yourself, why

Attempt to muddle God's own design?

Analysis would dull such beauty,

Love is not always to understand,

And Autumn's the time when the eyes must see

And drink in, without explanation.

46

TRENDS OF MODERN MUSIC BY J. BOWMAN

ILLUSTRATION BY T. WARD

It could be the first sign of old age but modern

music seems to be progressing without me. I search

for the strains of Berlin or Gershwin in vain. They

have disappeared from the hit parades. In their place

is the mysterious instrumental madness of the decade.

H o w I miss the Forties! I would lie in front of a

tuneful radio with text books ail around me. I prob­

ably learned a lot more about popular music than I

did about school subjects, but these were delightful

years. Every time I hear the soothing notes of a

Porter tune I remember m y unfinished French essays;

the gay abandon of Sylvester's dance band brings

back nostalgic memories of Midsummer Night's

Dream, while the musical confusion of Spike Jones

reminds m e of the science master's attitude when

the atom was split.

I often try to recall the time when tuneless noise

replaced melody. M y memory goes back no further

than a song entitled 'The Old Music Master". This

mentioned all kinds of weird revelations. Be-bop,

Swing, Jazz, Boogie-Woogie. "How wonderful" I

thought. " W e are on the verge of a N e w Musical

Age". So I jitterbugged to boogie-woogie; prac­

tically stood on m y head to swing music and managed

to look miserable when dancing to jazz. H o w excit­

ing and modern it all was! Gershwin and associates

faded into the uninteresting clouds of a bygone age.

It is only lately that I have begun humming their

tunes again. These days m y eighteen-year-old niece

worries me. Lyn is an intelligent girl; she recently

matriculated with a love for the classics and can

speak constructively on most subjects: I therefore

become alarmed when she lapses into a coma about

something she calls "trad jazz". She seems to float

in the air to this music, which, to me, is without

rhyme or rhythm. She stands listening, grasping her

partner in a manner which suggests she should

marry him; and, with fanatical looks in their eyes,

they stand on one foot, then on the other, while

their grappling and clasping hands beat up and

down. Lyn has tried to explain the hypnotic qualities

of this music, but I am too unintelligent. She now

treats me with the sympathy and understanding one

reserves for the mentally weak. I am sure she sus­

pects that I do not even "dig Elvis".

Of late, I have been amazed at the power of music.

This present Limbo Rock craze has people bending

over backwards trying to fit under a broomstick. Per­

sonally, I am convinced that the older one becomes

the safer he is. For the sake of comfort I do not mind

being called "Square, L7" or even "dad". I am

perfectly contented tapping m y foot to the melodious

strains of yesteryear and am never jealous when the

teenager next door wins Limbo Rock competitions. I

suppose I am just "not with it" any more.

47

THE CAPTIVE BY B. WOODHOUSE

ILLUSTRATION BY K. HOPWOOD

W a s it an eternal struggle he was faced with, or

would he be freed? Forever ... on and on and on

... in his world of green. A vast deceptive jungle,

devoid of all feeling but the ache of his body and

the hurt of his heart. The mists of time swirling before

him . . . the past and the future mingled with the

dreadful present . . . only now did he realise that

time was a relative thing, existing now, only to

disappear later, and be forgotten.

Only green, not a touch of blue, not a sign of

yellow, always green; for ever and ever it seemed.

No life but his own, the rhythmic beating of his

heart, echoed against the inpenetrable jungle of

green. Death!

The murmur of some unseen force creeping

through his thoughts in this lonely world . . . then

silence, as it seemed this very force was captured,

like himself. Even the thought of golden silence

seemed a change from the vastness of his green

existence.

A storm, tossing him about . . . turbulent and

angry. Punishing his weary limbs, beating the last

drops of precious life from his exhausted body. The

sharp green blades ripping into his torn wings. As

suddenly as it had come, the storm subsided into a

desolate calm, and he was left with a million and

one thoughts of escape. He must escape . . . some­

how.

Tomorrow ... if there were to be a tomorrow . . .

he would be dead. A lifeless soul in a grave of

eternal green. Solitude was his. He had time ... if

it could be measured ... to recover from the last

storm, to prepare for the next. A breath of fresh

air, a thought of escape, and then a million more,

probing his brain, a turmoil of thought. Waiting for

a fearful thing, the next storm was bound to come.

Still, he had hopes of survival ... a million of them,

and one. He must devise a plan; but what? He lay

in his thoughts for a while — he would never know

for how long it was he lay. There was no chance in

his world, or was it hell? A green hell, from which

there would be no escape. There was nothing, no

life but his own, no sunlight . . . yet not even dark­

ness . . . only green.

He must escape now . . . before the next storm

which would leave him surely helpless ... or dead.

Without warning, he impulsively thrust upwards with

the last ounces of energy left in his mutilated body.

The green jungle clung to him, cut his limbs once

more, laughed at him, mocked his attempt to escape

its own deadly clutches. O n he struggled; death was

a wall which tormented him from every angle. He

48

lui

6w,

ISSk

*tgm-

must defeat death ... or was he already dead?

Then he was free. He burst into a new wc

world of sunlight and warmth. A world of colour ar

life, and sweet music. Torment left him, and he had

ly a beautiful new world in which to exist. N o

orture, no pain, no ugh

He would rest for a while; maybe until tomorrow,

which was now his. He was free, eternally free; free T7// • • a

from death, and also free from the pains of life.

49

A TOTEM OF LOVE

Poem and illustration

by M. Stewart.

Mouth that is still

Eyes tkat stare,

Tattoo and trinket

All are there,

Carving of love

History of deeds

For The Maori to look on

And fill lost needs.

Fierce though it is,

It gives warmth to the heart

To him that wanes

When lovers depart.

'Tis only an idol

That will soon decay,

But the flame in his heart

Will ne'er wither away.

51

SPORTS REPORT OF SENIOR SCHOOL

This year has seen a diversification of sporting activity in the College, with a larger number of students taking part. There has been a small measure of victory our way, and a

large measure of interest in many fields.

The athletic sports saw an active Swinburne team, including a women's team, participating. Individual vic­tories went to L. Howatt, G. Waters, R. Hartnett and Robert Ward, who set a record time of 4 minutes 23.4 seconds for the mile. Swinburne finished in fifth place overall.

At^ last year's swimming sports, Geelong and Swinburne tied for first place; this year Swinburne won over Geelong by a comfortable margin. Although the win was partly due to individual successes, team work such as the training and arrangement of relay teams played an important part in our victory. Individual victories were L. Howatt, R. Elmore (3), A. Harman and J. Barker. Robert El­more's three victories included two records; as did Alan Harman's. T w o relay teams from Swinburne also won in record times. A women's team was also entered and gained second place among the women's teams.

Two football teams were fielded this year and enjoyed some measure of success. The teams were managed by a Student Committee of four, namely, John de Carteret, John Rivis,

Bob Stratton and Lindsay Thomas, who tackled the job with vigour and enthusiasm. These students are to be

congratulated on having done such a fine job. The first XVIII was vic­torious against Preston Technical Col­

lege, The Ballarat School of Mines, The Secondary Teachers' College,

Melbourne High School and The Police Cadets. Best and fairest player and leading goal-kicker were both

won easily by Rick Harding. Also prominent in the best and fairest scores were Laurie Vandenberg, John Morton and John Rivis.

The soccer team, reformed after abandonment last year, has grown in strength under the watchful eye of

Tony Watson. Tony has captained the team and won the best and fairest award for Soccer. Tony also gained

selection in the Victorian Under 17 Team to play in Adelaide during the second term vacation.

The baseball team, although

struggling for numbers this year, battled gamely through its matches, with just enough wins to keep the in­terest alive. Peter Dillon as captain did a wonderful job organising and controlling his charges.

The basketball team has grown in strength this year and some very high scores were recorded. At this stage it appears unlikely that our team will make the final four. Fergus Fricke was team captain.

The tennis team, captained by Ken Nichols, was moderately successful this year. Best players included John O'Toole and Michael Ede.

This year an inter-senior Technical Schools' cross-country run of three miles was staged. Swinburne won both the outright contest (Robert Ward) and team awards (Robert Ward, Gary Oldfield). Thanks are due to Robert Ward who very successfully organised the event.

Swinburne students were prominent in a poorly attended cyclists' road race, in which Swinburne provided two-thirds of the field. W e are hoping for more competition next year.

The table tennis championship at­tracted 24 entries, the winner being Andrew L a m with Daniel W o n g be­ing runner-up. Thanks go to Michael Yap for organising this event.

Finally, m y thanks as sportsmaster go to all members of staff and stu­dents who have so willingly and ably supported m e this year.

SPORTS AWARDS— 1963

Cricket: Keith Whitelegg.

Football: Henrique Harding. Soccer: Tony Watson.

Baseball: Peter Dillon.

Basketball: Fergus Fricke. Tennis: Michael Ede.

Swimming: Robert Elmore. Athletics: Robert Ward.

Sportsman of the Year: Lindsay Thomas.

52

COLLEGE ACTIVITIES

THEATRE OUTINGS GROUP

For too many of us the demands of study appear to be so strenuous that w e think we have little, if any,

time for the pursuit of pleasure. One very valuable, entertaining and en­lightening avenue m a y be found in

the parties that are arranged at in­tervals to some of the best current stage performances. By courtesy of the respective managements, and also in some instances through assistance

from the Australian Elizabethan

Theatre Trust, attractive concessions are granted so that actual prices of admission are reasonably within reach

of the majority of students.

By far the most popular outings

this year were those to the several presentations of the newly-formed Australian Ballet Company at Her

Majesty's Theatre, and all who were fortunate enough to go, thoroughly enjoyed the delightful programmes

on each occasion. Other theatres

patronised included the Union

Theatre (The M a n W h o Ca m e to

Dinner), Comedy Theatre (The

Miracle Worker), Princess Theatre

(The King and I), and the Russell

Street Theatre (And the Big M e n Fly).

The arrangements made to obtain

the concessions and bookings of seats

entail a considerable amount of time,

and the only reward asked for is the

pleasure of those who attend the

parties. The larger the party, the greater the pleasure and satisfaction for all.

SWINBURNE DRAMA GROUP

In an attempt to foster an interest in drama among staff and students and to make full use of the facilities

available in the Ethel Swinburne Centre, Ken Woodward gathered to­gether a small cast and presented a

full-length play, "The Paragon", for two performances in early December,

1962.

This was reasonably successful and enjoyed by (unfortunately) slender

audiences. The cast was drawn from: Beryl Coleman, Margaret Randies,

Carole Trenfieid, Robert Davie, Staf­ford Owen, Daphne Wells, Alan

Johns, Peter Spurrier, Ken Wood­ward. Backstage: Stafford Owen, Helen Munro, Elizabeth McConnell,

Graeme Luckie.

For 1963 a more ambitious project

was envisaged; it was decided to make

a choice of play from the Leaving Certificate Syllabus and endeavour to

draw an audience from students and teachers to w h o m this would be of special interest. The play chosen was Bernard Shaw's "The Devil's Dis­ciple". This called" for a cast of over thirty, but such numbers were beyond the membership capacity of the Theatre Group at that time. By

doubling up on smaller roles and cut­

ting down on crowd scenes, it proved

possible to offer a presentation which tied in reasonably well with the author's intention. The cast was

drawn from the following: William Beggs, George Dale, Margaret Jones, Edward McQueen-Mason, Tonnie Paetzold, Renee Small, Lynne. Wood­

ward, Walter Blake, John Cummings, Leslie Jones, Stafford Owen, Patricia

Penrose, Peter Spurrier, Ken Wood­ward, Beryl Coleman, Robert Davie, Betty Lilburne, Barrie O'Brien, Peter

Robinson, June Wood. Backstage: Helen Munro, Walter Blake, Angela Sabey, John Fraser, Keith Williams, Robert Petrie. Front of House: Judie

Maine and 24 assistants. Booking Office: Ken Goodman. Stage Decor: Bill Beggs, Peter Robinson, George Dale.

The play was presented for five nights, 7th to 11th M a y inclusive, and was seen by an audience of over eighteen hundred, from as far afield

as Mornington and Geelong North, and representing (in addition to Swin­

burne students) twenty-one Grammar, High, Technical and private schools.

It is of interest to note that the cast and backstage staff included stu­dents of Boys' School and Diploma classes, instructional and administra­tive staff. Thus all grades of College life were represented.

A further production, "The Ring

53

of Truth", a comedy by Wynyard

Browne, was produced mid-Septem­ber, 1963. The cast from this was drawn from the following: Robert Davie, Beryl Coleman, Margaret Jones, Walter Blake, Jim Gilevitis, Renee Small, Betty Lilburne, Kevin Davidson, Robert Isaacs, Ken Wood­ward, Angela Sabey, Marjorie Lid-dell, Stafford Owen, Edward Mc­Queen-Mason. Backstage: Stafford Owen, Helen Munro, Les Jones, Lynne Woodward, Peter Robinson, Keith WilUams, Robert Petrie.

As an off-shoot of the Theatre Group, a tape recording of "The One Day of the Year" was made. This was done at the request of the De­partment of Humanities, the play be­ing on the English Syllabus for 1963. Taping a play calls for actors of some experience and Ken Woodward

gathered together the following cast: Alan Johns, of the National Theatre

("Alf"); Barbara Langdon, from K e w Repertory ("Jan"); Peter Spurrier,

freelance actor ("Hughie"); Beryl

Coleman, Swinburne Theatre Group ("Mum"); Ken Woodward, Swin­

burne Theatre Group ("Wacka").

At the meeting held on 7th June,

1963, the following officers were ap­

pointed: President, Mr. B. R. Hames;

Secretary, Miss J. Maine; Treasurer,

Mr. S. B. Owen, Mr. Ken Woodward

is producer.

From the above it will be seen that

the Theatre Group has had an active season and can now be regarded as well established. In order to maintain standards, however, it is very neces­sary that membership should be kept at the highest possible level. All mem­bers of staff and students (full or part-time) are welcomed into the Group,

details of whose activities can always be found on the Group notice board in the passage by the main office.

THE SWINBURNE PUBLIC

SPEAKING GROUP

On 19th March a well-attended meeting, representative of students from all faculties, was held in R o o m W A 6 for the purpose of re-forming the Public Speaking Group for its second year. Several foundation members referred to the organisation of meetings, the activities of the Group, and the benefits derived by members through regular attendance.

During the year meetings have been held regularly each Tuesday during the luncheon hour, commenc­ing at noon. Although attendances have been small, members have en­joyed listening to each other deliver

short speeches upon a wide variety

of subjects, sharing in the valuable

experience of evaluating colleagues'

contributions, and, through the as­

sumption of the offices of chairman

and secretary from time to time,

learning the fundamentals of how to conduct a meeting of a small club

or society. This last aspect of the

affairs of the Group is of interest to

all intelligent students who desire to fit themselves to achieve their future role in society.

To enable members to experience actual meetings of some of our social institutions, excursions were arranged

to sessions of the Legislative Council and Legislative Assembly, to the M a y meeting of the Hawthorn City Coun­cil, and also to a regular meeting of Toast-masters' International, a world­wide organisation whose aims, are similar to ours, and upon whose prac­tices our own procedure has been modelled. These outings proved valu­able as practical demonstrations of the principles by which our own weekly meetings were being con­ducted.

During its first year the Group consisted entirely of male students. This year, however, we have been pleased to welcome some young ladies who have added colour and tone to our meetings. Members of both sexes are equally welcome, and we hope 1964 will see this truly student club with a greatly increased

number of active and enthusiastic members. The ability to speak effec­tively in public is an invaluable asset, may be easily developed, and can be fun. Try it at the Swinburne Public Speaking Group, and prove it

54

COLLEGE AWARDS

We congratulate the following people who have been awarded certi­ficates and diplomas since the last issue of the magazine was prepared:

CERTIFICATES IN ARTt

BEGGS, William BELL, Margaret , BISSETT, Andrew Eric BJERKING, Curt Eric CARR, Janet DALE, George Edward DELIANOV, John Risto GARDINER, Ian David GIRVAN, Malcolm James

GROSMAN, Barbara HINCE, John David HOLMES, David John '~~ HOW E , Irene Rose LAM, Donald LEECH, Judy Dale MacFARLANE, Robert Melville

MARKS,Rae Merle MARSDEN, Ralph Lawrence MARTIN, Maxwell John MONKHOUSE, Pamela

ONG, Siew Hong ROBINSON, Peter Alfred

ROCHE, Dennis Garrett TAYLOR, Ray Ernest TROUSDALE, Clifford

WATTS, Ray

CERTIFICATE IN BUILDING CONSTRVCTIONt

ANDERSON, Ronald Frederick

CERTIFICATE IN APPLIED CHEMISTRY:

MORLEY, June Gwenda

CERTIFICATES IN ACCOUNTANCY:

ANDERSON, Arthur John ALEXANDER, Philip William BROWN, Thomas Francis BARNARD, Paul Geoffrey D'ARCY, Lindsay Thomas GOODALL, Peter Frederick MONETTE, Leonard Mitchell POWLES, Richard Pennington ROFFEY, Stuart John SINCLAIR, Neil Louis STUART, Robert Gordon TAN, Kim Chiang W H A N , Douglas Bruce

COMMERCIAL CERTIFICATES:

AINSWORTH, Janet BARBOUR, Christine Elizabeth BARELLI, Janette May BEECH, Pamela Joy BOASE, Margaret Ann BRIGGS, Pamela Rose BROWN, Rosalie Agnes CAREY, Joan Therese CHAN, Siew Yoong CLARKE, Janice Shirley COLLIER, Janet CULEY, Kay Le-Neve EAST, Vahna Anne ELLIS, Adele Freda FORBES, Sally Roberta GOLOMB, Diane Leona

HOARE, Virginia Lynn HUME, Kerrin Gai JAMESON, Faye Elaine JOHNSON, Celia Margaret LAWLER,ValmaiAmy LORIMER, Thea Gwendoline LYNCH., Susan Margaret MORRISON, Kathryn Maree PLUMRIDGE, Elaine Jean i POLE, Dianne Rosalind SCHAFFER, Jill Ann SONG, Phek Moi TAYLOR, Lynette Florence THOMPSON, Beryl Jean TROTTER, Margaret Anne WALSH, Rosemary WHITE, Linda Doris

WILLIAMSON, Shirley Ellen WESSENDEN, Hazel Evelyn

SECRETARIAL CERTIFICATE:

AYERS, Joan

CERTIFICATES IN SUPERVISION:

CALDOW, Alan Charles (Industrial)

CLARK, Mervyn Robert (Commercial)

HULL, Guy Berwick (Commercial)

CERTIFICATES IN

DRESSMAKING:

BOUDEVILLE, Margaret Florence

LEUNG, Wai-Chung

55

CERTIFICATES IN CIVIL ENGINEERING:

GUEST, John Malcolm SEARLE, Ian Stewart WOODS, Wilfred Joseph

CERTIFICATES IN ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING:

GUJLFOYLE, Peter David HARRIS, William Robert MAYBUS, Edward Charles SEDIAK, Milan

CERTIFICATES IN MECHANICAL ENGINEERING:

BOUNDY, Stewart Fraser CAMERON, George Grasby HAESLER, Robert William KERR, George Rodger M c M A H O N , Laurence James SHUGG, Calvin John TAYLOR, Alan Reginald TURNER, Leonard Alexander WALSH, Alexander Joseph

CERTIFICATE IN HEATING, VENTILATING, AIR CONDITIONING AND REFRIGERATION:

SHEBLER, Kenneth James George

TECHNICIANS' CERTIFICATE IN HEATING, VENTILATING, AIR CONDITIONING AND REFRIGERATION:

OWEN, Norman William PETERS, John William PITTS, Brian William

TECHNICIANS' CERTIFICATE IN MECHANICAL ENGINEERING:

CLEVEN, Josephus M. HENSON, Henry Charles MELBOURNE, John Stanley MOLNAR, Imre RYAN, Paul Stewart

TECHNICIANS' CERTIFICATE IN PRODUCTION ENGINEERING:

REYNOLDS, Robert James ROBB, Peter Hugh

FREDERICK WILLIAM GREEN PRIZE:

Awarded to the best engineering stu­dent in the final year Civil Engineer­ing. SHERMAN, Douglas John

«, PRESENTATION OF DIPLOMAS DIPLOMAS IN ART:

ALLEN, Sandra Fay FRANCIS, Robert Alexander FRYER, Elizabeth Ann HOGG, Judith Myra LIM, Siew-Im ROBERTSON, Margaret Anne

DIPLOMAS IN APPLIED CHEMISTRY:

COVENTRY, Sydney Alfred CRAWFORD, Richard

DAVIES, John Loveluck DEVERSON, Rodney James HUXTABLE, Raymond Francis LAMBERT, Bruce Graeme LEVENS, Robert Ingmire LONG, John McKinley NESBITT, Bruce Arthur O'NEILL, Barry William O'SULLIVAN, Neil Patrick Joseph POON, Ping Ying ROSEBLADE, Reginald John RYALL, John Edwin THORP, William Howard

DIPLOMAS IN CHEMICAL ENGINEERING:

BULMER, Graeme Richard BULMER, John Howard D A L L A RTVA, Peter DENT, Denis Charles HART, Barry Thomas HEALEY, Rodney William LEVENS, Robert Ingmire POON, Ping Ying W A R E Ian Allan

DIPLOMAS IN COMMERCE:

BYSOUTH, Lorraine Gwenneth LAU, Tin Chor SAMBELL, Neil Burton TAN, Kim Chiang W H A N , Douglas Bruce

DIPLOMAS IN CIVIL ENGINEERING:

ANDERSON, John Wallace CHANG, Chong Ping

56

CROTTY, Jeffrey Victor DANCE, Ian Maxwell GAUDION, Ronald GLARE, Colin John GOWAN, Ronald Graeme HANDCOCK, Colin Reginald HOSE, Ronald Maxwell HOWARD, Neil Henry HURST, Peter KURZEME, Marcis MclNNES, Ian David MAH, Guan Seng MEGGS, Robert Charles NG, Bean Eng NG.Kean Chong PALMER, Robert Maxwell PRINCE, John William SIMPSON, Michael Robert STROUD, Stanley Allen STEMSON, fan Geoffrey TABART, Kenneth John TAYLOR, Terry William VONGVICHIEN, Sathien WESSEL, Ronald August WONG, Peng Hoe

DIPLOMAS IN ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING:

BAXTER, Peter James BRETT, Robert William DEERSON, Jonathan DYER, Garry Alan GEDDES, Douglas Glen KELLERMAN, Frederick William MACDONALD, Terence John MITCHELL, Andrew Martin Patterson

QUAIFE, Robin Edward

DIPLOMAS IN MECHANICAL ENGINEERING:

ANDREWS, Bruce Chester ARNDT, Guenter BRADBURY, Edgar Ronald CROWLEY, Daniel John CULLEN, Frank Sansom DAVIS, Christopher John DORAN, Kenneth John FENWICK, Robert Kenneth HEWITT, Thomas Donald William HOPE, Randal Alfred JOHNSON, Edward James K N O W L E S , Antony Gerald McINTOSH, Malcolm John PRITCHARD, William RUNCIMAN, Archibald James SHEPHERDSON, Peter Keith TIMMS, Donald Harold THOMAS, Geoffrey Raymond WILLIAMS, John Francis WILSON, John Alan YIM, Ming Kau

DIPLOMA IN PRODUCTION ENGINEERING:

ARNDT, Guenter

POST DIPLOMAS IN INDUSTRIAL MANAGEMENT:

ADAMS, James Vivian CAMERON, Ronald Oliver McKENNA, Robert Frederick

DIPLOMA SCHOOL PRIZES, 1963 CLASS PRIZES —

ART:

1st Year: DELANEY, Carolyn 2nd Year: ROBINSON, Peter Alfred 3rd Year: OWEN, Barry 4th Year: McMENOMY, Robert Keith

CHEMISTRY:

1st Year: SCHAFE, Lawrence Maxwell

2nd Year: PIDGEON, Kenneth John

APPLIED CHEMISTRY:

3rd Year: MORLEY, John Daryl 4th Year: NIEUWENHUIZEN, Keith Joseph

CHEMICAL ENGINEERING:

3rd Year: McKIRDY, Archibald John 4th Year: SUFFERN, Monty Clarke 5th Year: MOORE, Jesse Gordon

COMMERCE:

1st Year: LITTLE, Alison Ruth 2nd Year: AYLEN, Frank 3rd Year: BURN, David Edmund 4th Year: ROCALSKY, Maxwell John

COMMERCIAL PRACTICE:

1st Year: MORRISON, Maree Kathryn

COMMERCIAL CERTIFICATE:

WHITE, Linda Doris

ENGINEERING — CIVIL: 1st Year: ANDERSON, Peter 2nd Year: STACK, Lucien Joseph 3rd Year: WOODHOUSE, Robert McRae

4th Year: SHERMAN, Douglas John

ENGINEERING —

ELECTRICAL: 2nd Year: BARNES, Kenneth John 3rd Year: MAWSON, Alan James 4th Year: McDONALD, Peter Lynton

ENGINEERING — MECHANICAL:

1st Year: PLUMRIDGE, Jeffrey David

2nd Year: MOORE, Kerry John 3rd Year: FRICKE, Fergus Raymond 4th Year: BOYLES, Graeme Francis

PRODUCTION ENGINEERING: 2nd Year: COLLETT, Geoffrey Alan

SPECIAL PRIZES — ENGINEERING DRAWING:

DUNCAN, Charles William

HUMANITIES: HILL, Malcolm Haswell

MATHEMATICS (Top for State) SHERMAN, Douglas John

PHYSICS: MAWSON, Alan John

SOCIAL SCIENCE (A. F. TyUe Prize):

BULLER, Leonard

58

THE NATIONAL PRESS PTY. LTD., 34 LONSDALE ST., MELBOURNE