Many former Congregationalists especially remembered the church’s social activities. They singled out Pilots and CYF, concerts and plays, fairs, fancy dress, cricket and tennis as part of their special memories.
PILOTS
Pilots was a youth group for children aged from 8 to 12. Congregationalism’s answer to scouts and guides, the club was based on the structure of the navy.
Children met weekly in watches under Watch Leaders who reported to the Captain, for games, worship, and to work towards badges similar to those won by scouts.
The uniform was flexible; girls wore white blouses and navy skirts of different designs and navy berets. But Victoria’s Chief Pilot, youth worker John Ward, was resplendent in gold braid.
One former Pilot remembered:
Pilots extended what the wider church was giving to me in a practical way. It was like scouts. There were badges to do. Remember the Pilot’s Ticket, that exam? We only sat it twice. It was really hard. I just didn’t know the answers, so I wrote down what seemed sensible. I remember going to Prahran Congregational Church. John Ward, Chief Pilot, was there in his regalia; he was barking orders. They said they were going to present the certificate. Only one person had passed in the whole of Victoria. Then they said my name. I sat there, stunned; I couldn’t move. Uncle Keith said, ‘Well, go on.’ I’ve still got the certificate, among my precious possessions. I suppose that I was eight.
Doing badges. Learning knots. The reef knot has stayed with me the whole time, invaluable, because if it’s tied properly it won’t come undone. Flags. The Blue Peter. The uniform, the scarf, the Pilot badges. And the badges for levels too: Acting Able Seaman, Able Seaman, Midshipman.
Being a watch leader, and learning to look after others in the watch. Pilot Sports’ Day. The Pilot prayer: ‘Teach us Good Lord to serve Thee as Thou deservest. To give and not to count the cost. To fight and not to heed the wounds. To labour and not to ask for any reward, save that of knowing that we do Thy will.’ In the 1990’s someone used that prayer in a church service and it all came flooding back.
Pilot camps were held in the hall of country churches during May school holidays.
Going as trainee leader. Up to Kyneton and the Leaders’ Room with its big fireplace and big fire. Another fire in the extension to the dining-room. Giving people responsibility, learning to lead. Having that confidence given to you that you are ok to have this position. Bunk beds like cyclone gates and hessian palliasses filled with straw. I used to play the organ in the break, probably the same thing over and over again.
At Pilot camps we had a quiet time. Our own time to be with ourselves. We could read, or lie down, or sit on the bed. We could sleep. It may have been John Ward’s idea. He was a teacher-librarian. I remember the stories he used to read us. Inside the smaller room. Not the big dining-room. It could have been the room that became the leaders’ room. He told us that every time there was a rude word, he’d say ‘jolly.’ They all kept coming out. Once there was a ‘jolly jolly.’ He was a great story-teller or reader. He had a good sense about kids and how far they would go, about who was likely to push the boundaries. I think that now; at the time things just happened as they were supposed to.
Pilot camp, Kyneton 1956. Top: Rev Alf Blake, Camp Mother Jan Clack, Chief Pilot John Ward. Below: pilots
*
CYF: CONGREGATIONAL YOUTH FELLOWSHIP
From Pilots, young Congregationalists went on to the Congregational Youth Fellowship, Junior and Senior CYF. Many Congregationalist met their future marriage partners there.
I grew up in the Black Rock Church and became a member of the Congregational Youth Fellowship, eventually becoming State Secretary. I remember the Rev. Roy Alexander coming to Black Rock to speak to the C.Y.F. and then staying on into the late hours discussing the first two chapters of Genesis, explaining that these were Hebrew creation myths, not scientific accounts. This was the beginning of a healthy scepticism about the traditional teachings of Christianity.
*
After I turned 15, I was invited to attend the Kew CYF, and regularly attended the Youth Group, helped in the Sunday School in the mornings, and attended church services in the evening. As a very shy person, I was horrified to be elected ‘welcomer of new people’ in my second year of attending CYF. I later discovered—of course—that that was a new role that Doug Riley had specially tailored for my needs. I was well-accepted by the young people there, and became involved in the tennis teams, badminton, monthly dances, outings, study groups, participation in services etc. We all felt like part of the church family.
*
There were four churches in the Castlemaine circuit, Castlemaine, Walmer, Chewton and Maldon. Walmer is in dairy country. They had an old copper there, and they used to fill it up with milk, and throw in a handful of ground coffee. I can smell it now. They supplied dairy country food too, cream puffs and cream cakes for supper.
*
We waxed the floor for CYF dances. We’d tacked carpet onto a box, weighted it down with bricks and added ropes. We shaved candles onto the floor and pulled the box about. One year we decorated the hall for the Cup Eve dance on Saturday. The Sunday School superintendent didn’t like teaching in a hall decorated with streamers and horses.
*
One of the activities we had about 1950 with the Chewton Youth Club was a paper-trail hike, always held on moonlight nights. The treat at the end was always saveloys cooked on an open fire in an old kerosene tin, with a loaf of bread normally. We often cooked potatoes in the coals; they were quite a treat. There was one rule: no pairing off into the scrub.
*
Len Forward, Director of CYF in Victoria, had a station-wagon and formed the CYF Flying Squad. I and others went to rural churches like Wahgunyah to take ideas for CYF programmes. Len Forward was enthusiastic that young people should have a strong role in the church.
*
The highlight of CYF for most participants was Easter Camp.
At an Easter camp at Bendigo, a man from Croydon took the evening devotion leading out of Easter. As we left in silence, we walked through the beam of a projector, which threw our shadows onto the back wall. We seemed to be walking away from the cross.
Then, under a starlit sky, Syd Henshall took the evening devotion, reading from The Unknown Disciple. I thought, ‘How could you not believe?’
*
CONCERTS AND PLAYS
I remember Thursday evening rehearsals of one-act plays. Ena Sambell directing, wigs, furniture gathered from all and sundry, the red velvet curtains, the musty hall filled with appreciative audience. One year we put on The Mikado. Another year we did Ten Sixty-Six and All That. Most of the Church was in it.
*
I have fond memories of the original weatherboard church with its stage for concerts—boys dressed in tutus and gumboots ‘dancing’ Swan Lake . . .
*
FAIRS
Our church held an annual fair in the hall, and each organization was responsible for a decorated stall. There was the white elephant stall, jams and cakes, hand-knitted garments, books, and plants. Someone set up a trampoline behind the church. There were competitions too. I remember trying to guess which childhood photo belonged to which senior church member, and children decorating saucers with flowers. One year the Pilots bred white mice from a single pair and had plenty to sell.
*
For many years the White Elephant stall features the same tub of loose face powder, which was invariably purchased and then invariably donated back for resale the following year.
*
One man visited the fair late on Saturday afternoon. On the white elephant stall he found an ornament, and he bought it, thinking it would make a good pair to the one on the mantelpiece at home. His wife, who had always disliked the ornament and thought she had got rid of it, was not pleased.
*
CRICKET
To belong to the Williamstown Congregational Cricket Club, you needed to go to church twice a month. I went every week, but most went to two evening services. The minister used to organize a question and answer night when he knew the cricketers were coming. One night we asked him “Was Jonah really swallowed by a whale?” and “Are you pink? (a little bit communist?)” He said “Yes” and “No, I only have a mind of my own.” Like all Congregationalists.
*
Sir Dallas Brooks, the Governor of Victoria, attended worship for the 1956 church centenary. The cricketers took up the collection. They were told not to go to the governor in the front pew. They went there first. The aide-de-camp put an envelope into the plate. But they were chastised later by the minister.
*
TENNIS
I played in Wyclif’s tennis team from the age of 12; they had to get special permission. I remember standing outside our front gate in Florence Rd. I was still at school. Bob Holdaway arrived in his little grey Vauxhall to take us to an away match. When they got to me, the car already contained five adults. I would squeeze in.
Wyclif had two asphalt courts in Bona Vista Avenue, Surrey Hills, accessed by a narrow path. They had bumps caused by the roots of the surrounding poplar trees, a hut for a club-house, and permission to use the outside loo of the house next door. When Wyclif club folded, I went to Collins Street and timidly asked if I could come and play. It was 1954. Collins Street had 4 teams—a big club.
*
FANCY DRESS
One year I went as a bonbon, a Christmas cracker, a big orange-red one. I couldn’t sit down, and if I fell over, I was in strife. Another year I was a cricketer. Mum asked, ‘Who is she? Bradman or Keith Miller?’ We paraded around the hall. Then, when I was about eight and my sister about six, we went together as a bride and groom. She had a lacy shawl over her head. I had tails, a top hat and a cane. We had to walk around a circle while we were judged for prizes. One judge got the giggles, because I put on a limp.
*
Next: Chapter 6. Social Justice, Overseas and at Home
Back to index: Index
No comments:
Post a Comment