Tuesday, May 23, 2017

The Village Hampden





Belluga is Barmedman

Not everybody in Maher Cup Country loved rugby league.
E.O. Schlunke of Hope Vale, Reefton wrote prolifically about rural life in the Riverina.  The stories are not pastoral in the manner of John O’Brien’s Around the Boree Log. They are usually vignettes with a dark edge.
In 1956 he published a collection called The Village Hampden in which the eponymous story positions the Belluga Rugby League Club as the town’s central institution. Although the Club sees its role to foster community and local pride, it has become menacingly authoritarian, seeking to control many aspects of daily life.   The story goes….hampdenvsmall
Tom Matheson, a young school teacher, has arrived in town.
“It was a small town of only a thousand or so people. Normally one wouldn’t expect a town of that size to field a first-grade team that could put up a good showing against towns five to ten times its size, and even hold the group’s challenge cup at times for a significant part of the season” (p.203).

The committee has done their homework. They’ve found that Tom had been a useful half-back at teachers’ college. Their hope was that he would play again, or at the very least become a financial member. Now a golfer, and always an obstinate type, he refuses both requests. His stand finds no support among the cowering populace. Opposition proves futile. He eventually joins the Club rather than being sent to Coventry.
“Everybody in Belluga plays football, thinks football, works football”….
“As soon as a new baby is born, before it is even registered with the C.P.S., its parents make it a junior member of the football club. Then, as soon as they are a few years old, we teach them to save their pennies to pay their own subscriptions” (p.211).
Tom takes a interest in farming, befriending a local grazier, McDonald. Old McDonald may be the wealthiest person about, but he’s insecure, threatened by closer settlement whereby large grazing holdings are subdivided into smaller wheat producing farms. McDonald had donated £1000 to build new dressing rooms, as insurance.
Tom also takes an interest in McDonald’s daughter Daphne, the most eligible girl in town. However the Club has plans that Daphne will marry Johnny Payne, their arch-rival’s champion fullback. Belluga will thus have a winning player at no cost. Daphne has shown interest, but Tom starts getting in the way. I let you guess the ending.
Eric Schlunke
Eric Schlunke
Eric Otto Schlunke was primarily a farmer. His great passion was soil conservation for which a cup in his honor sits in the Temora Museum.  He was also a prolific, folksy, writer whose characters were clearly drawn from daily life. Belluga is clearly based on Barmedman. Schlunke’s Road runs from Reefton just 10 miles to the south to nearby Trungley Hall, where the Zion Lutheran Church still remains central to community life.
Barmedman was a village, dwarfed in size by its Maher Cup rivals. But it was never daunted.
Schlunke’s story can be dated to about 1955, when his nephews Clarrie and Noel were members of the ‘Clydesdales’. This was a very good year. Barmedman travelled over to Boorowa and brought back the holy grail. The first defence against Junee produced a score of 72 to 3, the biggest margin ever in Maher Cup football. West Wyalong, Gundagai, Cootamundra and Grenfell all came, and were all thwarted. But arch rivals Temora drove up the straight road past the newly sown wheat fields, through Gidginbung and Reefton, and on to Barmedman. The red and whites, toughed it out, 16-10,  and took the Maher Cup home.Gidginbung and Reefton, and on to Barmedman. The red and whites, toughed it out, 16-10,  and took the Maher Cup home.
With the Cup 1955
With the Cup 1955


Barmedman’s players were mostly local farmers and wheat lumpers.   But the club also attracted legendary players to their team, including Australian representatives Col Donohoe, and Ron Crowe, as well as Billy Bischoff, Keith Gittoes, Tom Kirk and Wally Towers.
Is there any kernel of truth in Schlunke’s story which explains how the village was able to punch above its weight in Maher Cup football for so long?
Perhaps there were special conditions operating in the village? One suspects that the club was in a relatively rare and powerful position where lack of size was overcome by an ability to extract extraordinary resources and commitment from the community.
I’d be most interested in your thoughts.
PS. Why Schlunke named his short story The Village Hampden, is a mystery – Hampden is mentioned nowhere.
Reference:
Schlunke, E.O. (1958). ‘The Village Hampden’, pages 202-240 in the Village Hampden: stories, Sydney, Angus and Robertson. The book contains 16 stories, only this one about football.
hotels
Barmedman Hotel, with the Queensland Hotel on the same intersection.  Image Source: Mattinbgn, licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

My Year in Belluga

Saturday, June 13, 2015


"Belluga is almost certainly based on Barmedman"

1956 was a year I shall never forget. If Schlunke's "Belluga" was in fact Barmedman (who could doubt it?) here was once the centre of my world, however briefly. A nineteen-year-old bank officer, I'd arrived in the town the year before but with no intention of playing anything. The football season had all but finished, but somehow this place and this culture just seeped into my veins. I was, one might say, "fast-tracked" into Barmedman's small community as one of only three bank employees in town. "The Barmedman" Hotel directly across the street from the bank's unimposing structure was where I spent my first couple of nights before being invited to board with a local family. It was the beginning of one of the most wonderful 18 months of my life, and I'm proud to say it was spent in Maher Cup Country.
Fortunately, I'd played both codes of Rugby at school and afterwards, and hailing from Balmain territory it was not long before the pressure was on to pull on the old boots and turn up to training. I'd had a slight conflict of interest, as one might say, being a churchy sort of lad with (un)natural inclinations to shun Sunday sports. That inhibition quickly faded as the 1956 season drew closer, and I was soon a regular member of the team, playing on the wing, as I'd always done.
My name might well have been included in the list of Maher Cup players were it not for being absent in Sydney on the weekend of Barmedman's first challenge match against West Wyalong, but I was just as happy to be a spectator at the August rematch and there were all the other regular season games that were simply unforgetable. Tom Kirk was, I think, the referee at one game where I came off second best in an attempted tackle: "don't ever try it that way again, son" was Tom's stern advice as I picked myself up, half stunned, off the turf. It was a particularly wet year, as I seem to recall, and the journey up the track to WW or South to Temora was fraught with flooded creek crossings often necessitating transport by truck. And the early morning coach trip to Murrumburrah-Harden is also hard to forget, the game where necessity brought Jim "Nipper" Lawrence out of retirement to kick a goal? I could be wrong about that. Is it also only my imagination that suggests I might have picked up an end of season award, "Best Improved Back, Reserve Grade"? Hell, it was great fun anyway!
Now approaching 80 years of age, I have few memories as vivid, or enjoyable, as my year in Barmedman nearly sixty years ago. To the wonderful "family" of friends that helped me celebrate my "coming-of-age" (perhaps in more ways than one) I have only the warmest, and deepest, gratitude. Wonderful, unique Barmedman!
Geoff Wellings