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The White Hat Guide to 7 Melbourne Events that were Bigger Than The Beatles

We sometimes hear people promoting Melbourne events as 'bigger than The Beatles visit', so we thought we might start our little list of seven events whose impact we feel was bigger than The Beatles tour. They might not always have had the short, sharp impact of that event but we have chosen some that we think that have had an ongoing impact influencing many people over a period of time.

No.1 - The Light of the World
No.2 – South Street
No.3 – The Melbourne Centenary
No.4 – The Herald Art Show
No.5 – The Return of Sir John Monash to Melbourne
No.6 - The Ballets Russes
No.7 - The Great Exhibition

(Two more to come in our weekly newsletters)

No.1 - The Light of the World

The Beatles came along at a propitious time. Copyright existed, royalties existed and they were able to reap their fair share of the earnings from their creative efforts. True, the cassette recorder was arriving on the scene but the sound quality was nothing like the real thing. Had they come along ten years later they would probably be out on the circuit again faking enthusiasm for a geriatric crowd who would not let them alter a note of what they created in the audience’s youth. That is because the mass media of the internet and pirate downloads dried up the royalties so you had to pull yourself out of a well-earned retirement to earn money from your creative work by ticket sales and merchandising. Copyright laws allowed creative people to earn a living from their work for a good part of last century. But things are much harder now.

Back in the nineteenth century, painters could do little to protect or earn from the images they created unless they also had some skills in marketing. Holman Hunt was a talented English painter working in the Pre-Raphaelite style. One of his paintings captured the public imagination in a big way. Called Light of the World it showed Jesus with a lantern in a dark landscape about to knock on a door. The image was soon copied by the mass image reproduction tool of the day – the black and white engraving - and in this form it spread across the world with no recompense to its original creator. There was something about this image that gave it both a high-culture and a mass-culture appeal. Before long there was hardly a vestry or Sunday School in the civilized world that didn’t have a bootleg copy of The Light of the World hanging on the wall. And, of course, as any good British subject of the time would tell you, the civilized world was restricted to those communities that had vestries. Holman Hunt reworked his painting and finally made a third version. It was this third version that was sent on a tour of the colonies. Canada was lukewarm, but Australia was different – and particularly Melbourne. Most people knew of the painting from pale reproductions but none had seen it in its full colours. Exhibitions were set up in a darkened room with a bright light emphasizing Christ’s lantern. Expectations were carefully built until the time of arrival. The viewing was subtly promoted as much as a spiritual experience as an artistic one.

In Melbourne people broke through the barriers and women fainted. That may sound familiar. However it is worth remembering that when The Beatles visited Melbourne, a tiny proportion of the population greeted them at the airport or cheered them in Exhibition Street. By the time ‘The Light of the World Tour’ had finished it is estimated that 4 million people had come to see it and most declared to have been profoundly affected by it At that stage, Australia’s population was 5 million which must give that tour some credentials as being bigger than The Beatles.

The ecstatic reception from Australia, but Melbourne in particular helped restore Holman Hunt’s waning status in Britain. In fact it could perhaps be argued that it is because of Melbourne that both the third version of The Light of the World and Holman Hunt himself can now be found in London’s St Paul’s Cathedral – one above ground, the other below.

No.2 – South Street

With the wealth of the gold rush, Ballarat became a thriving regional city. For a long time it was Australia’s largest inland city until overtaken for that title by Canberra. The good people of Ballarat were aware of the civilising effects of culture and it was expected that a good citizen could be expected to give a creditable rendition of a parlour song or maybe give a recitation or play an instrument. There is a good chance they would be the member of a choir or brass band. If they were more of a sporty type, they could at least be expected to participate in the more cultural forms such as calisthenics which was, after all, invented there on the gold fields.

Before long it was decided that a form of eisteddfod was in order as a showcase for local talent and as a setting and gradually raising standards in the area of performance. A group of public-minded citizens set up the South Street Eisteddfod. In the days before the relatively recent innovation of government arts grants, this committee knew they were undertaking to be personally liable for any losses incurred in the running of such an event. Before long this had become the premiere event of its kind in Australia. Some felt that the offering of cash prizes was not in the spirit of an eisteddfod so it was soon referred to as the South Street Competitions or more commonly – just plain South Street.

Competitors were starting to be attracted from all over Australia, and it wasn’t long before the good burghers of Ballarat realised they had inadvertently created a form of event tourism. The competition season stretched over a month and the competitors and their supporters would spend money on accommodation, food and other necessities while they were there. Ballarat and Melbourne music stores tendered for the right to publish the ‘official’ sheet music of the competition pieces. But why just individual competitors? Band and choir competitions would really boost the local economy. Then there were the families. Even though your daughter had a pretty soprano voice, was it really advisable to put her on a train to Ballarat with all those basses? Particularly once she understood what the words of those madrigals really mean. No, it was best that mother went too.

The finals of the choral competitions were huge events with crowds at The Coliseum (with two to three times the capacity of the currently closed-for-renovation Hamer Hall) spilling over into the streets and often finishing well past midnight. Late finishes were not a problem. It meant people had to stay an extra night in Ballarat. If only there was a way to create more large team events. I’ve got it – mouth organ bands. The mouth organ manufacturers will donate generous prizes.

But South Street was not just the domain of the gifted amateur. It launched many an international career. In 1920 a young bass-baritone from Geelong swept all before him winning every section of the men’s vocal competitions that he entered. His name was John Brownlee and this success propelled him to the concert stages of Europe where, with the help of Dame Nellie Melba, he quickly became accepted as one of the fine voices of his time.

For many citizens of Ballarat between the wars, South Street was the entertainment highlight of the year. Those who could bought seasons tickets and many a good Ballarat citizen learned a Mozart aria or Shakespeare scene verbatim by listening to repeated renditions of the set piece.

After WWII, things were changing. Radio, gramophones, cinema and eventually television were all leading to more passive forms of entertainment. The arrival of The Beatles in Melbourne underlined the fact that music was no longer the activity the average person participated in, it was something they consumed. The attraction of South Street was waning.

Never mind. A group of Ballarat citizens came up with the idea of a historic theme park based around the gold rush. Sure enough, hundreds of people a day came up to Sovereign Hill from Melbourne. “But they’re still not staying overnight. Remember the days when the band and choir competitions finished late?” “We’ll put on a sound and light show at night – we’ll call it ‘Blood on the Southern Cross’.”

Never underestimate the ingenuity of Ballarat people when it comes to event marketing. And never underestimate the impact South Street has had on the lives of hundreds of thousands of people and the international careers it has launched. That’s got be at least as big as The Beatles visit to Melbourne.

No.3 – The Melbourne Centenary

1934 was the centenary year of Melbourne. Since its glory days as ‘Marvellous Melbourne’ in the 1880s it had suffered a major financial crisis in the 1890s, the isolation and strictures imposed by WWI, a worldwide depression in 1930 and was clawing its way out of sombre times come centenary year. During this period, fiscal stimulus had been provided not so much by governments but by self-made businessmen from humble backgrounds who felt a duty to keep employing and offering back to the community during tough times provided they could keep their businesses afloat. People like Sid Myer and Mac Robertson.

Mac had started by making sweets in the family home and by a combination of astute business and brand marketing had done extremely well, still managing to employ a small army of workers in his ‘White City’ in Collingwood. For Melbourne’s centenary he could just sign a cheque and hand it over to the city fathers, but he felt he had more to offer than that.

First he set about organising and offer a grand prize for an air race from London to Melbourne. Fast aeroplanes were sure to raise the imaginations and make the front pages of newspapers around the world for a period of time – and all of these headlines would be mentioning Melbourne. And if they mentioned MacRobertson as well then that was a useful side effect. After all, the success of his sweets empire could produce more employment and more philanthropy in the future.

In addition, Mac sought to find out what local initiatives would benefit the people of Melbourne. He settled on three things. A fountain. Well, a fountain is nice and I sometimes sit by the MacRobertson Fountain at the southern end of The Shrine parklands and ponder the centenary year. A bridge. There was growing need for a bridge across the Yarra in the Toorak area, so Mac funded the MacRobertson Bridge. You can find more background on that bridge in our Seven Bridges of Melbourne series.

A girls high school. Mac was convinced that girls and women had more to contribute to Melbourne than just studying ‘home duties’ then leaving school at the earliest opportunity. MacRobertson Girls High School was build as a fine modern building in parkland surroundings and remains one of Melbourne’s best examples of restrained ‘Moderne’ architecture.

In the meantime, Melbourne had seen somewhat of a building Renaissance. Depression times are always good for escapist entertainment so the plaster of paris never-never lands of the Regent and the State Theatre were erected. These were great fun but not great architecture. However buildings such as Burley Griffin’s Capitol Theatre were particularly when supplemented by other buildings such as the T&G, the Manchester Unity, the Century and so on. Melbourne was again starting to boast architecture of which it could be proud. And for the centenary year, it was arranged that a number of Melbourne’s buildings should be floodlit at night. This may not seem particularly significant in 2010, but in 1934 the effect of seeing certain buildings in a different light for the first time prompted citizens to look in a new way at the city in which they lived.

Apart from the finish of the air race at Flemington Racecourse, there was probably no one event that generated huge crowds and wild euphoria, however I think it can be said that Melbourne entered its centenary year with dogged determination and left it with a newfound pride and optimism – a pride and optimism that was to influence the city for a number of years to come.

In an era when we now take our floodlit buildings for granted and have grown used to destination marketing campaigns promoting Brand Melbourne, it is useful to look back on the legacy of that centenary year,

No.4 – The Herald Art Show

Before WWI, a young journalist was employed by David Syme of The Age and part of his job was to help increase the circulation of The Age in the ‘establishment’ eastern suburbs. We have told the story in our 7 Journalists of Melbourne of how this young Keith Murdoch was by the 1930s to become proprietor of The Sun, The Herald, 3DB and as a result, one of the most powerful men in Australia.

This rich and powerful man then surprised everyone by marrying an attractive girl many years his junior. Of course nobody said anything publicly but you can imagine many thought it would never last. This young girl recently celebrated her 102nd birthday and still speaks with enormous respect and affection of their long and happy marriage. Keith always had an interest in the arts, but Elisabeth pushed this along a number of steps. The Herald became the arts newspaper rivalling and often surpassing his old employers at The Age. Keith sought out expert advice for his own art collection and then in the late 1930s put together an audacious project.

He arranged for over 200 ‘modern art’ works to be brought from Europe for a touring exhibition. These included works by the likes of Gauguin, van Gogh, Braque, Cezanne, Bonnard and others. The National Gallery of Victoria and the Art Gallery of New South Wales would have nothing to do with it, but that didn’t worry Keith. He hired the Melbourne Town Hall and in Sydney, horror of horrors, he used a department store – David Jones. Keith had deep pockets but a venture this size did require an admission charge. That was not a problem. On the whole artists and the public lapped it up and queued around the block. Some major gallery establish figures railed against it describing the art and artists in highly derogatory terms. That was just grist to Keith’s mill. He owned a major newspaper and instead of covering up their opinions he quoted them in large type. As his son Rupert was to do in later years, he relished taking ‘establishment pronouncements’ head on. The exhibition did not have to be confined to the public service hours of the time and for nigh on two weeks over 40,000 people of Melbourne queued until 10 o’clock at night to see these paintings in the flesh. Some conjectured that this was more than had passed through the doors of the establishment gallery in a year. It remains as one of the most influential arts events to occur in Melbourne’s short history and as such, we suspect deserves the label of ‘Bigger than the Beatles’.

No.5 – The Return of Sir John Monash to Melbourne

John Monash was born in West Melbourne, moved to Jerilderie for part of his childhood where it is possible he met Ned Kelly before returning to Melbourne to continue his studies in engineering. He soon became an expert in the construction methods of the new building material known as reinforced concrete or, more colloquially to Australians who loved to abbreviate everything, as ‘reo’. He was involved with the building of the Princes Bridge and the design of the Sandridge Bridge.

Come WWI he went off to Gallipoli. He was not a career soldier but had already achieved the rank of an officer in ‘the volunteers’. After Gallipoli he was sent to the Western Front. By this time his organising skill had been well recognised even though the influential journalist Keith Murdoch and war historian Bean lobbied against his promotion. He was not a populist-shake-everyone’s-hands-and- call-them-mate-and-look-out-for-the photo-opportunity sort of leader. The British generals were prepared to experiment with various strategies using the troops as cannon fodder. Monash had grown up designing bridges. You get only one chance to get it right. He planned his battles accordingly. Artillery, planes, infantry and tanks were planned as part of a co-ordinated project each playing their part at their pre-ordained time. This included American tanks, and to my knowledge Americans, who rightly pride themselves at never fighting under a foreign flag, have only ever once been led into battle by a foreign officer – John Monash.

As for the Australians, who at this stage had been sent over the parapets time and again into the teeth of deadly machine gun fire, officers didn’t occupy a place of high regard in their thinking. Except for Monash. Somehow in the middle of all this mayhem he was able to arrange for a hot meal to be sent to men in the front trenches. If he thought that was important and knew how to organise it maybe he was different. And he was.

His organising and tactical abilities led to him being knighted on the field of battle by the reigning King of England – the first time that had happened in hundreds of years. He had come a long way since his early childhood in Melbourne playing in the Flagstaff Gardens.

At the end of the war, various British and Australian officers were pushed (or pushed themselves) into the limelight, but not Monash. However ‘the men’ knew what was what and who they were prepared to march behind. During the long slow business of ‘demobbing’ Many Australian troops remained in Europe. They had a reputation as larrikins lacking in formal discipline and aplomb. Several marches of ‘the colonials’ were arranged through London. Sir John issued a message to his men:

“It is only four miles and will last an hour and a quarter. It is not too much to ask every man to grip himself. Remember you represent the great and immortal Australian Army Corps. Every man should try and look as he ought and feel proud of his division and the Australian Army.”

Londoners agreed that the ‘amateur’ volunteers of the Australian army could, when led by their own officer who shunned pomp, put professional career soldiers in the shade. When it suited them and when led by a man they utterly respected. Which wasn’t all that often.

Monash was feted in London and offers came from around the world for potentially prestigious positions but practically nothing from Australia and the government seemed intent on snubbing him. However, Monash declared that he was returning to Melbourne.

Boats travel slowly but word travels fast. Repatriated diggers from around Australia payed their way to Melbourne to welcome him home. They had left their lives as farmhands and bookkeepers and wharfies and teachers and seen things that no person should ever be forced to see and come in contact with what can happen in back lanes in Paris and done things that only a person who knows they will probably die a horrible death tomorrow can do and returned to a sheltered family life which knew nothing of these things and of which they probably divulge nothing for the rest of their lives except in part when they were back in that other dreadful, cheerful, sad heroic bunch of mates who understood. And Sir John was coming back. He might move in different circles now but he understood.

The ship docked in Port Melbourne on Boxing Day and Sir John was taken by lighter to St Kilda Pier. There he was mobbed by ‘the men’ who carried him shoulder high to the boulevard that now carries the name of a VC winner. In fact it was this VC winner, Albert Jacka, who said of Monash “As a soldier he’s like one of ourselves and doesn’t like swank.” The parade continued along Fitzroy Street, through South Melbourne and along Swanston Street where the crowds cheered him every block of the way. He had been greeted by various mayors, but the Federal Parliament, which at that time sat in Melbourne was conspicuously absent and there was no sign of Prime Minister Hughes.

There were two elephants in the room. The first was that John Monash was Jewish and that did not sit well with certain parts of the establishment. As to ‘the men’ they had left an Australia where they had been taught that Catholics and Protestant could perhaps be on speaking terms but those of the opposite persuasion had to be treated with suspicion. In the trenches they soon learned that it was of no concern whether the man next to you was Protestant, Catholic, Jewish or Kalathumpian. What mattered was could he be depended on, on the men knew John Monash could be depended on. The second elephant was more threatening. Monash was now clearly the most popular and respected man in Australia. Any job in Australia was his for the taking – including, possibly, prime minister. Politicians were anxious to recommend him for a job in the public service. Public servants were keen to recommend him for a job in the private sector. The magnates of the private sector were keen to recommend him for a permanent job in the military. The career military were keen to recommend him for a position of high honours overseas.

The day after his return, Sir John took off his military uniform, donned his civvies and returned to his job in his engineering company. It was a strong message to ‘the men’ that it was time for them to do the same. Offers continued to pour in but before long he surprised (and relieved) many by accepting a job heading up the newly formed State Electricity Commission which was then a small floundering organisation. He argued that the prosperity of Victoria (and therefore the employment prospects of ‘his men’) depended on a statewide electricity supply. He sat down and started to plan out a system that would see Victoria though the next 50 years. One expects if he was offered the job today he would look at all he could find out about climate change and renewable energies, investigate what changes various plans might have on individuals and organisations and start planning for the next 50 years.

Nowadays it is difficult to walk through central Melbourne without being reminded of the legacy of Sir John Monash. The dome in the grand reading room of the State Library was designed by him even though it was another company that eventually built it. The mural of Prometheus in John Monash House (now renamed). Princes Bridge and Sandridge Bridge where he cut his teeth as an engineer. The Shrine which wouldn’t have existed without his drive. The Anzac Day Parade of which he was the initiator as we have described in a previous newsletter.

But, you might say, that was all a long time ago. Even the house where he was born in West Melbourne has no plaque and has long functioned as a house of ill repute. Surely people have largely forgotten him.

Not so.

When decision makers meet at the peak body for engineers in Melbourne they sit at a board table. It would be difficult for them to make a decision without being influenced by the simple statement by Monash in large lettering which takes up most of one wall of that room.

“Adopt as your fundamental creed that you will equip yourself for life, not solely for your own benefit but for the benefit of the whole community.”

I think it is fair to say that Sir John Monash’s return to Melbourne has had an effect that was bigger than The Beatles.

No.6 – The Ballets Russes

In the early years of last century, Serge Diaghilev put together a ballet troupe that knocked the 19th century stuffing out of traditional white ballet. He brought together great modern composers, painters, designers and dancers to announce that the 20th century had arrived. Works like Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring still seem more modern than many a ‘grounbreaking arts council funded work’ today.

Diaghilev died in 1929 but with more twists and turns than a murder-mystery novel (and this is after all the arts where there is less sharing and caring and more blood on the floor than in a cut-throat multinational corporation) several companies carried on the tradition.

In the late 1930s, the Ballets Russes made three tours of Australia and the results were astounding – particularly in Melbourne. The dancers were treated with the celebrity status and theatres were full night after night with enthusiastic audiences. The (now) Forum Theatre commonly was a favourite venue and pit orchestras rose to the challenge of mastering some of the century’s most challenging music. The Australian public turned out in numbers that would have a present day promoter rubbing their hands with glee and to the delight of the better Australian artists and performers and artists of the times raised the public expectation of what to expect in those areas.

It was during the third tour that the Second World War erupted. Many of those involved with the Ballets Russes decided to stay on in Australia as dancers, teachers, artists and administrators – a decision which has had repercussions to the present day.

Some histories of Melbourne portray the city of the 1930s as a rather drab place with little or nothing that could be described as culture and which was only gradually turned around by the post-war immigration of the 1950s. Nothing could be further from the truth. The Melbourne public of the 1930s were hungry for the best that contemporary culture had to offer. Keith Murdoch’s Herald Art Show brought important 20th century paintings to Melbourne and the advent of the war saw most of them stay in Australia for a decade. The Vienna Boys Choir were stranded in Australia at the outbreak of the war and many of those involved with the tour took up Australian citizenship and made major contributions to the Australian cultural scene. Those of the Ballets Russes that stayed on are woven into the fabric of Australian dance. Most of them would probably be puzzled by present-day labels. They didn’t set out to create ‘multicultural’ art – they set out create the best possible art they could and were joined in the process by local Australians. Ventures such as the Herald Art Show and the Ballets Russes were attended by far more Australians than saw the Beatles and their lasting contribution to Australian culture can I think be truthfully called ‘Bigger than The Beatles’.

No.7 – The Great Exhibition

Or to be more precise, the great exhibitions.

Melbourne had started life as a small bedraggled settlement but gold was to change all that. Fortunately, the gold came at pretty much the right time and the right place. By the time the gold was running out a number of remarkable people, most of them starting from scratch, had taken the opportunities of the time to set up thriving and worthwhile industries and commercial enterprises. By the 1870s Melbourne was starting to create wealth through industries created mainly by self-made men and women of enterprise rather than those whose power came from inherited wealth or class. Unfortunately at the same time a number of people were accumulate temporary wealth through the unearned wealth of a land and property boom but by the 1890s that bubble burst and we had learned our lesson for ever – maybe.

Melbourne had held several exhibitions of its industries trades and arts at an exhibition building made substantially of glass standing diagonally opposite the Flagstaff Gardens. That building was later replaced by the Royal Mint.

Meanwhile, back in England, a queen who had named herself after this esteemed colony (or was it the other way around) had married a German gentleman who met the appropriate political and diplomatic requirements. The English did not warm quickly to Albert who was a cultured and scholarly man. He however had a firm belief in the civilising effects of industry and commerce arguing that if nations became mutually co-dependent through trade then there would less and less incentive to go to war with each other. As a result he became a great promoter of the world fair concept. People would come together in a city somewhere in the world for up to a year at a time and the arts, culture, industry and trades of various nations put on show. They had such an influence that they had major influence on the futures of many artists, musicians, designers, industrialists, engineers, thinkers and ordinary citizens of the time.

Melbourne held a grand exhibition in 1880 and commissioned a temporary building to house it. Local builder David Mitchell seemed to shape up well. They say his daughter Helen could sing a bit too. Many said the venture was too risky and the exhibition was an expensive experiment that would never work. Fortunately those sort of people have now disappeared from Melbourne. The Exhibition Building was erected together with a number of ancillary buildings and the 1880 exhibition was a great success. So much so that after this proof of concept a second grander exhibition was held in 1888. Fortunately the temporary Exhibition Building had not been knocked down so it could be re-used.

These two exhibitions left an indelible impression on Melbourne. Reading the correspondence of the time has certain parallels with the 2000 Sydney Olympics. Australians had half prepared themselves for a cringeworthy opening ceremony but eventually relaxed and exuded a certain pride when it did not turn out that way. Similarly the exhibitions of the 1880s led to a certain fear that Melbourne would be revealed to the world as a city of backwater hicks with a lot of money but not much culture. When it turned out that our local home grown industries and enterprises were being hailed as world class there was a silent sigh of relief. Matrons, regardless of whether their circumstances were well-heeled or modest, took a little extra care in their grooming before heading into the city and carried themselves with an air of dignity befitting residents of a well-regarded metropolis. International businessmen who had previously omitted their country of origin from their calling cards now proudly displayed the word ‘Melbourne’ together with a picture of the Exhibition Building.

It is difficult to go around Melbourne, or Victoria for that matter, without seeing reminders of the Great Exhibition. In Carlton you will see terraces that hastily had second or third storeys added to house the visitors. At the entry to the Treasury Gardens you will see the bust of Sir William John Clarke who was made an hereditary baronet for his services to her beloved Albert’s world fair ventures. In Docklands you will see the large railway goods shed erected there to handle goods for the exhibition. In a Warrnambool gallery you will see the Loch Ard Peacock which never quite made it to the exhibition. And so on.

However, the most permanent reminder is David Mitchell’s temporary building. All over Europe you will find impressive heritage buildings but most of them have been turned into museums or tourist venues. Melbourne is young enough for many of its most impressive heritage buildings to still operate as working buildings. Parliament House is still the home to Parliament. The Melbourne Club still operates as club rooms. The Old Treasury Building is still the office of the Governor. And David Mitchell’s temporary building has still continued to earn its keep for over a century despite a proposal for its demolition to Melbourne City Council which was defeated by one vote. The grand old dame has seen some less than salubrious times but continued to work and has served as a venue home shows, car shows, examinations, balls, gala occasions and of course – exhibitions. She knows that if she continues to work and earn her keep she will possibly escape being relegated to a home for the irrelevant. And like the matrons of 1888 she knows the most important thing is, no matter what, to retain your dignity.

I think it is fair to say that impact on Melbourne of the Great Exhibition was bigger than the Beatles.

These short articles are currently being published one at a time in the White Hat Melbourne Newsletter.