ROBYN FROM NARRABUNDAH

ROBYN FROM NARRABUNDAH
By Wayne Riley
  This true yarn was written by a mate named Wayne Riley, another Canberra boy.

Dave Wheeler 30/4/13

  It was a Friday night, probably in 1968, and I was 19 or 20 at the time. I was at the "Chapter One" nightclub in Civic, which was started in 1966 by the Hewsons. It was a dollar in and 25 cents a schooner back then and one of the few places where the number of female patrons was at least as many as the number of males.They also got Australia's best bands there at one time or another. 

  It was pretty dark inside though, apart from those strobe lights that seem to slow down everything. So people sat at tables or stood at the bar, but you couldn't tell exactly what people looked like till you got up close.
   I went up to two reasonably attractive girls sitting together at a table and asked one of them to dance. Her response was, "Fuck off!" I walked back to the bar dejected.
   I drowned my sorrows for a while but decided to have one more shot when I saw a very pretty girl who looked to be a couple of years younger than me sitting at a table by herself after her friend had headed off to the toilet. She was wearing a summer dress that was cut fairly low from her shoulders, revealing a shapely figure. She had long light brown hair and was in her prime. 
   My heart was pumping hard as I summoned up the courage to approach her, but my conversation skills were limited and as the music was loud I had to shout to be heard anyway, so it was not ideal.
    "Would you like to dance?" I asked. 
   "No thanks," she replied.
   "Can I buy you a drink?" I tried again. 
   "No thanks," she replied. 
   "Can I sit and talk to you?" I persisted. 
   "No thanks," she again replied. 
     I was as hard of thinking as I was of hearing, so I then said,"Would you go out with me next week for a meal and a drink?" 
  She looked at me and said "Okay," then took out a pen and paper from her handbag and wrote down her name and address and gave it to me.
 "I've got to go now," she said as her friend returned. 
  "I'll pick you up at 6 on Saturday then?" I asked.    
   "Okay," she replied as she walked out the door with her friend. 
    I looked at what she had written and could see that her name was Robyn and that she lived in one of the streets in Narrabundah which at the time had numbers as names. Other than the Causeway, the numbered streets of Narrabundah were the closest Canberra had to a slum. The area was renowned for its roughness and criminal element, although it also obviously contained many residents who were nice honest people, and I was hoping I'd picked a girl who fell into that category. 
    Driving down her street on Saturday I must have carried a worried look as I passed rundown houses and others with an occasional broken window with car wrecks on the front lawn. I drove to the house with the right number and pulled up next to the kerb, staring at the place. 
    On the front lawn was an old FX Holden with three very mean and unsavoury looking characters who looked as if they were on day leave from Goulburn Gaol working on it. I was wondering whether to risk it but thought, "No, she seemed sincere." So against all my instincts and common sense I got out of my car and strolled up to the house trying to put on the toughest voice I could use. 
   The bloke under the bonnet of the car saw me first and came out and stood there looking at me as if he was going to either talk to me or spit at me.
    "Yeah mate, what do yer want?" he muttered. 
  "Um gidday mate, I'm looking for Robyn," I replied.
  "Robin? Ya wanna see me brother Robin?" he replied. 

  Like a bolt of lightning I was made instantly aware that the girl who called herself Robyn had been having me on. I don't know if her real name was Robyn and she shared her name in pronunciation with a Narrabundah tough boy she knew or whether she had another name and just knew the name and address of a Narrabundah tough boy named Robin. She may have even been Robin's girlfriend. 
   Whatever the case, if Robin grew up in the numbered streets he would have been teased for having a name which could be pronounced like a girl's name and he would probably have been very sensitive about it.

  Robin's brother was at least friendly when he replied in a deep and rough voice, "Sorry mate; Robin's shot-through. He won't be back for a few hours."
   My heart sunk as I began fishing for my keys in my pockets so I could perform a quick exit.  
  "Thank Christ," I said under my breath, but instead said, "Oh, okay then, thanks."
   I started to walk back to my car when Robin's brother yelled out to me,"Who'll I say was lookin for im mate?" 
   "Um, just tell him it was Jack. See you mate," I replied. 
   I got back in my car and drove off very slowly as I  considered staying away from Chapter One for at least 6 months or until I could grow a beard. 

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A FIGHT TO THE DEATH AT THE QUEANBEYAN SHOWGROUND

A FIGHT TO THE DEATH AT THE QUEANBEYAN SHOWGROUND
by Dave Wheeler

   It was sometime in the 1960’s my grandmother, the late Vera Guard, told me about a fight to the death between two Aboriginal warriors during the 19^th century in an area of land which eventually became the Queanbeyan showground. 
   I had forgotten about it, but was inspired to get as much information as possible on the subject after visiting Dave Reid’s excellent blog, http://www.davesact.com, in which he has collected a large amount of literature and references to literature regarding Canberra’s early indigenous post invasion history, including a reference to the duel I have referred to.  

   Pictured above is my dear old long departed grandmother, the late Vera Guard, in 1975. She was born in 1895 and lived in Queanbeyan from the early 1920’s to 1939, prior to moving to Ainslie. She was a great talker with a keen interest in history who would readily chat to anyone. When she was a young and newly married Queanbeyan resident she got to know many of the old time Queanbeyan residents, including John Gale, and in doing so acquired much historical knowledge regarding the district’s early days. I wish I had taken in more information from her than I did when I was younger.

   As Dave’s blog has collected many documents and links associated with Canberra’s indigenous past it makes it easier to overview much of the recorded versions of history. It also highlights what is in real need of clarification; not only in relation to the duel in Queanbeyan, but other possible duels between indigenous Canberrans of the time and Canberra post invasion indigenous history in general.

HOLD IT!

     

    Since I first published this essay I have had strong agreement and disagreement on various points of the alleged history I wrote about, and have been told by various people claiming to represent the true local mob/s, who, (in their opinions), are and are not the genuine members and representatives of the local mob/s. And therefore I have been told whose version of history we should believe and whose version of history we should dismiss. 

   Therefore, because of the animosity and disagreement between some members who claim to represent the local mob/s I am deleting the rest of what I had to say in this essay as I don't wish to be the meat in the sandwich and get involved in local indigenous politics, particularly since I have never claimed to be an authority and I am not of local indigenous descent. I am doing this even though all I did in the essay was collect some old recorded versions of indigenous Canberra history and ask questions. 

   I have not however, discarded what I have deleted entirely to the extent that although it has not been published I have it stored on my computer. And if any serious students of indigenous post invasion Canberra history wish to read what I deleted eclectically please contact me via email and I will send it to you, with various caveats, as I do not claim to be an authority on the subject. 

Dave Wheeler 1/7/22 

    

SHE PUSHED HERSELF ONTO ME

SHE PUSHED HERSELF ONTO ME!  
by Dave Wheeler

   

   The title of this yarn is not about anything that has ever happened to me. I'll get to the guts of the story eventually.

   To begin, I had many jobs during my working life which varied in nature; too many to list. Most did not involve working for governments, but prior to my retirement from the full time workforce, which was at the end of 2005, I worked for the ACT Government. The work was not difficult as most positions at most levels within the various public services are unskilled or semi-skilled and require little more than basic computer skills and basic literacy.

   Even though I should have got out earlier than I did and got a more pleasant and less emasculating job,I often brightened my day by shit-stirring and cracking bad jokes. 

   I was to find many accomplices who were also fish out of water. One who comes to mind we called “Mental Mick.” Mick like me spent his formative years on building sites. He told me that being in the public service made him feel like he was in gaol.  I can recall while working with him, watching him yell out to himself as he walked along the petitions that surrounded the desks. 
   The public service is not the ideal workplace for non-snags, but unfortunately the same could be said for many other jobs within the Australian workforce. 
   Having said all this, at times some aspects of my work within the ACT Government were interesting and entertaining, and some could have been depressing had I let them get to me. 

   My last job was in the child protection area of the ACT Government where I occupied an admin position. I had no wish to become a child protection worker and continue to deal directly with the malfunctioning biological machines who abuse and neglect their kids, although  I could not avoid having some contact with them on matters of a practical nature. 
   There were some members of the public we dealt with (The system referred to members of the public as "clients." Why I don't know, because they purchased nothing from us.) who were nice-natured and responsible people but just down on their luck and in need of a helping hand, but most of those we dealt with for any length of time should have at least been sterilised, as they were a waste of space and oxygen. I find the idea of allowing people who have abused or neglected their kids to continue to reproduce grossly immoral. 
    In regard to extreme cases, such as those who sexually abuse kids or who are sadistically violent towards them, they should be rounded up and humanely euthanised to ensure no other kids suffer from their actions and that the cycle is stopped. 
    I would say to myself, “Why are we dealing with the symptoms and not doing what is required to prevent abuse and neglect occurring in the first place?"
   I will of course be compared to Hitler by advocating sterilisation and euthanasia, but Hitler's motivation was to build a super race, whereas my views are based primarily on a desire to protect kids from the actions of dangerous malfunctioning biological machines.
   Part of my duties for part of the day while working in the child protection area involved having my turn at answering the phone. It was not always as easy as most jobs within the public service, because our main line was used for emergency calls as well as general enquiries, which was ridiculous.

   

   It was the first point of contact for persons wanting to report the abuse or neglect of children, and sometimes callers would be in two minds as to whether they should make the report. I was supposed to put the call through to a child protection worker, but often no worker was available or the caller was on the verge of hanging up, and if I had have attempted to put them through to someone it would have been the last we heard from them. This put me in the position of being morally obliged to attempt to convince such callers they should go through with their allegation, even though I was not required to do so by way of my duty statement. Why I don’t know.
    (I had skills that enabled me to communicate with persons who were in two minds in regard to whether they should report child abuse or neglect. That however, was by no means always the case when other clerical workers were required to be the first to answer such calls. I found this an absolute disgrace, and I often wonder how many kids continued to suffer unnecessarily because indecisive callers hung up on the inexperienced clerical workers who were the first persons required to answer their calls. I don't know if ACT Child Protection has retained that policy or whether child protection workers are now the first persons to answer reports of abuse or neglect. I am also hoping they have a phone line which is not used for purposes other than the reporting of abuse or neglect).
   We often however, got calls unrelated to children being at immediate risk, and one I received along those lines was from a bloke I will call Eric, although he did not identify himself. He sounded as if he was in his late forties, which was a similar age to me at the time, and  it did not take long for us to find a rapport and go into “blokespeak.”

   Blokespeak is a more down-to-earth type of communication that is used between Aussie blokes of a certain type. It does not necessarily involve the use of particular language; it's more of an attitude and understanding which is experienced and shared through conversation. I am not saying it does not occur in other cultures, although Australia does have its unique form.      
    This is roughly how I recall our conversation, which I did my best to record in writing directly after it occurred:
Me- "Family Services; can I help you?"
Eric-"I’m not sure if I’m onto the right place mate; I need some advice." 
Me-"What sort of advice are you after mate? If I can’t help you I’ll see if I can redirect you to someone who can."
Eric-"Because you’re called Family Services I thought I'd try you first. My problem's of a very sensitive kind and I don’t know who to turn to, as it’ll affect the welfare of my kids. I've never discussed it with anyone before."
Me-"Does it involve any kids being at risk of abuse or neglect mate?"
Eric-"No mate, I don’t think they’ll ever be at risk of abuse or neglect, but it does involve their welfare. They’re happy at the moment, but I have some concerns for them in the longer term."
Me-"I doubt we'd be able to help you mate, but if you can briefly give me more details I can put you onto the appropriate people?"
Eric- "Well, I have a son to a woman I got pregnant a few years ago and my wife doesn’t know about it. The woman's now threatening to force me to pay maintenance through the government. I've been paying her plenty of maintenance without my wife's knowledge but she now wants to make it official even though she'd get less than what I've been paying her."
Me-"No, we definitely can’t help you on that one mate, particularly since no kids are in immediate danger or long term risk. Hold the line and I’ll see if I can find someone I can direct you to who may be able to give you some advice."
Eric- "I don’t want to see a counsellor mate; most of them are fucked in the head themselves and wouldn’t know if their arses were on fire. They usually get into the job because they’re fucked in the head. What do you reckon I should do mate?"
Me-"I’m not supposed to give advice mate; all I can do is try and steer you onto someone who can."
Eric-"That’s okay mate, just let me know what you think as another bloke. I realise it’s not part of your job and if you do advise me you’re not representing who you work for. I know the score; I work for the government. It's just that you're more likely to have some sort of clue than I have because of where you're working."
Me-"Okay mate. Run your problem past me in greater detail and I’ll see if I can help you."
Eric- "Well, I’m fairly high up in the public service, and a few years ago I had to go away for work with a younger woman I was working with. When we had to bunk down for the night she came to my motel room and came onto me. I swear it was all her. She pushed herself onto me!"
Me- "And a standing cock has no conscience!"

Eric- "Yeah that’s right mate. It was the biggest mistake of my life. I only gave it to her once and I knew I'd made a blue as soon as I’d done it. And she got pregnant from just that one session!" 

   "I would have left my wife years ago but because we've got kids I’d never mucked around on her until that night. If she ever finds out about it she’ll leave me and take the kids, and I love my kids. They also need me because she's a psycho at the best of times and not fit to bring up kids by herself, and nobody wants to see their kids suffer."
    "I can understand why those navy wives don't like their husbands going away to sea with female sailors. It's not natural for blokes to be put into situations like that. What would you do if you were in my position mate?”

Me-"The first thing I’d do if I were you would be to make sure it’s your kid, and you can do that with a DNA paternity test. If she’s not prepared to let you test the child I would be very suspicious about it being your kid, particularly if she only had one rogering from you." 

  "If it does turn out to be your kid you can try and appeal to the morality of the woman to do the right thing for the sake of the kids you have with your wife." 

  At that stage DNA paternity tests were not as common as they are now. Our work had begun using them and I had just had to code an invoice cover sheet and get approval for the payment of a test that had been done on one of the subhumans we were dealing with at the time. He was not sure if he was the father of the kid he and his wife had been neglecting and abusing. The test had cost about $800.00.

Eric- "I can try but I can’t see her caring as she's a bitch. How much is the test mate?"

Me-"It’s about $800.00 mate. It may be the best investment you make in your life. The only other advice I can give you is to seek advice from as many people as you can, including legal advisers, because so far you've only sought it from me, and you don't know what someone else may come up with. Maybe you can make some sort of confidential legal contract with the woman. I don't know."

Eric-"Thanks mate. I’ll take your advice on all counts, but I can’t see this having a happy ending." 

Me- "No worries mate; I hope it does have a happy ending for the sake of your kids. See you later."

Eric-"See you mate. Thanks again."

  
  I am not giving my personal opinion on the morality of anyone involved in this yarn and I am hoping I will not be thought to be doing so. I'm just reporting the conversation I had with Eric as I recorded it and attempting to give some sort of insight into the sorts of conversations I had while answering the phone during the time I worked in the child protection area of the ACT Government. 

Dave Wheeler 

THE ESTABLISHMENT OF THE TURNER PCYC

THE ESTABLISHMENT OF THE TURNER PCYC 

  by Dave Wheeler

   What are now known as "PCYC'S" (Police and Citizens Youth Clubs) began in NSW as Police and Citizens Boys' Clubs in 1937.They were usually just referred to as Police Boys' Clubs and their primary objective was to give direction to boys to assist them in avoiding lives of crime. Their title and function changed because they have for many years also assisted female youth. 
   I have previously written about the Turner PCYC in a book I wrote in 2011 entitled “TALES OF A CANBERRA BOY” which can be downloaded free of charge from this site above. In it I wrote an essay entitled “JACK DEALY AND THE TURNER PCYC” which describes how the late Jack Dealy was in charge of the Turner club during part of the early 60’s and how he saved it from financial ruin. Jack was a well-known and very tough Canberra policeman and wrestler who served in the ACT from 1949 to around 1973. He died in 2012 at the age of 94.
  This document however, is about the early history and establishment of the Turner Police Boys' Club (or PCYC), and in particular the building of the Turner club itself. I have not gone beyond the early sixties other than to describe the Turner club’s closure.

   The equivalent of today’s PCYC was founded in Canberra by the Canberra policeman the late Harry Luton, who in 1957 called for a public meeting to get the organisation established and a building erected. Unfortunately only five people showed up at the meeting, but it was enough to form a committee. Those who fronted were the previously mentioned Harry Luton, another policeman named Sergeant George Groves, Vic Sagacio who owned a gym in Queanbeyan, a Mrs Robinson and Dick Redman.

   Dick was the only living member of the original committee when I began gathering information for this document in August of 2012, and I thank him very much for the valuable information he gave me. I received much of the other information from Jack Dealy, old Canberra Times articles and PCYC newspapers.

A 2011 photo of the Turner PCYC

    Harry became the secretary of the committee, George became its chairman and all members set about the task of raising money for the club’s establishment. Within weeks they received £1000 in donations as well as offers of voluntary labour. The sum was to increase considerably in the next few years.

   Fundraising was initially done by the late Col Hillier, the late Ken Wood, the late Bill Lovejoy and the late Jack Dealy, who were all ACT policemen. They organised dances and boxing and wrestling tournaments. The boxing and wrestling was held at the Duntroon Gymnasium.

   Rotary also had a lot to do with the fundraising. More funds were raised by weekly housie held at the Services Club at Manuka, and committee members and many other persons set about organising an enormous garage sale covering at least half an acre in Ainslie Avenue where the Canberra Centre now stands.

   The club became an incorporated body in 1958 and the government granted the lease for the land in Turner. More donations came in from individuals, local businesses and other charities.   When work on the club commenced most of it was done by voluntary labour, with the volunteer adviser being a local architect, G.W. Dunlop. The building supervisor was Les Holland, who also became the vice president of the club.

  The building was completed in 1960 and officially opened on the 3^rd of December by Viscountess Dunrossil. According to Harry Luton in an 11/12/90 “The Chronicle” article, the task of constructing the building cost around £50,000 but it was officially valued at £70,000 due to so much money being saved by way of voluntary labour and donations of material.

    

   Above is a photo of “The Corvettes” playing at the PBC in 1961. They often shared the venue with “The Alpines.“ The Corvettes, as shown in the said photo, are from L to R Jim Miller, Ron Sankey, Ken Weaver, Ray Storey and George Lazenby. George Lazenby played James Bond in the 1969 film “On Her Majestry’s Secret Service.” He was able to get the lead role because he was from Queanbeyan. The Alpines were the first band to play at the club, on the 3/12/60. Other local bands, “The Casuals,” and “The Invaders,” also played at the club, and eventually “Bruce Lansley and The Presidents” became the regular band for the 50-50 dances.
   Thanks to Val Starr for providing me with this information and Jim Miller, who, through Val Starr, provided the above photo of his band.

  The former World Boxing Champion, Jimmy Carruthers, assisted the club by purchasing for it a boxing ring and associated equipment. I believe the current PCYC still possess that boxing ring.
   A minute from one of the first committee meetings after the completion of the club states:

  "Ladies Auxiliary - Without the Ladies Auxiliary we feel that the large numbers of voluntary tradesman and labourers at weekends could not otherwise have been properly catered for, and we feel that the meals supplied by the auxiliary was, in addition to the public spirited feeling that was present, a great enticement for volunteers to come along and work on the building, especially those who lived in hostels."

   Names I have received from the CT’s articles and other sources indicate that the following people were office bearers and committee members of that era and/or involved in the club's establishment, fundraising and construction. They are Harry Luton, Ken Wood, Bill Lovejoy, Col Hillier, G.W. Dunlop, R.L. Odlum, Frank Thornton, Dick Huckstepp, Bob Smith, Dick Redman, Mrs Robinson, Sgt G.H. Grove, JD Button, K Schreiner, S East, K Hardwicke, Les Holland, Mal Grace, M.McDonald, Bert Vest, K. Hatcher, Vic Sagacio, Mrs J.W. Ashton, Mr and Mrs Vincent, Mal Grace, Mr & Mrs BJ Donoghoe, Mr Gruzas, V. Ford, K. Batley, E.W. Waterman, W Osbourne, Jack Dealy and Bill Reichel. There were many more.    
   I had two interesting Canberra Times newspaper clippings dated 20/11/59 & 11/2/60 which showed the club being built and named those who were on the committee as well as businesses and individuals who donated labour and materials. Unfortunately a woman from the Canberra Times library informed me the Canberra Times could not give me permission to publish the articles and photos in “ Tales of a Canberra Boy,” as they did not know if they were done by CT’s staff. Maybe The Paparazzi travelled to Canberra specifically to cover the construction of the club. The CT’s library was also not prepared to guarantee the CT’s would not sue me if I published the articles and photos and at a later stage it was discovered that the CT’s did have copyright. What a nice corporation!
Below are the links.
http://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/103069912/11490261
http://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/105902321/11512017
   Another photo and article from the CT’s dated 5/4/63 I would have liked to have published in "Tales of a Canberra Boy,” showed the junior PBC Judo team, led by coaches Robert Carveth and Eric McCabe, prior to a trip to a tournament in Griffith, NSW. My mate, Spud Murphy, aged 13 at the time, is in the photo and remembers with fondness the sympathy and support he received from Eric McCabe after he (Spud; not Eric) vomited in the bus on the way to Griffith.
   One of the previously mentioned CT’’s photos shows the slab being poured with voluntary labour from the building firm “W.J.Campbell.” It indicates the cement was donated by “Portland Cement,” the metal was donated by “Australian Blue Metal” and the concrete was mixed with the voluntary labour of “Transit Mixed Concrete.” The floor of the club was laid by voluntary Scandinavian labour from the Ainslie Hostel and the builder, Karl Schreiner, and his employees, also spent many hours of their weekends building the club with their donated labour.
  I don’t know if any of these businesses still exist; nor do I know if there would be any Canberra businesses today who would be prepared to show the same degree of benevolence as the latter businesses should there ever be a call for assistance in restoring the Turner PCYC.

   The club struggled financially after its opening, but with a loan from Vic Sagacio, the hard work of committee members and volunteers, and eventually the enterprising skills of Jack Dealy, the club survived.

Immediately above is the club while it was being built some time in early 1960. The top photo is of it when it was near completion towards the end of 1960. Thanks to Jim Hosie and Neophytos Pertsinidis who rescued these photos and other documents just before they were about to be thrown out.

   Above is the opening of the Police Boys’ Club in 1960 by Kathy Morrison, the Mrs of the then Governor General, Bill Morrison, whose mates called him Viscount Dunrossil.
    A highly controversial decision to close the club was made by the 2006 PCYC Board of Directors who had other plans for the site which did not eventuate, and it was closed in that year. Part of the reason for its closure was because a structural report seemed to indicate it should be written off. The report, of which I have a copy, was publicly disputed by a top QLD builder who believed its repair would have been relatively easy and inexpensive, and the PCYC Board of Directors at the time was criticised for not having made a proper effort to call for input from users and the public before making its decision. 

   I was the secretary of ACT Wrestling at the time, which trained at the Turner PCYC, and I know nobody within our club who was asked for input prior to the decision to close the place being made. What a disgrace! Had they asked for assistance to fix the place (which I am led to believe the AFP were willing to do at the time) there would have been many tradies who were more than willing to donate their skills and many companies and individuals who would have been prepared to donate financially.

   In the above photo facing us is the late Bruce Vincent sparring an unidentified opponent. Bruce, who did much for the club and was a life member, was ACT's best heavyweight boxer of his era and an excellent judoka. The photo was taken in 1975. Bruce died from a heart attack on the 3/3/14. He was a very high quality human being who will be missed.

  The building did not have a problem with asbestos as has been reported, as that problem had been fixed several years before its closure. It does however, have some asbestos in it, as have most buildings of that age, but it is the type that is harmless unless it is disturbed. 
  I had previously attempted to have the building heritage listed, but, as expected, it was rejected without my being consulted. The ACT Heritage Council has a reputation of being very much pro-development and lacking true independence. They must have realised the building's heritage value, but it would seem they simply did not care. 

   I have had conversations with various persons who have told me certain things which leads me to believe that at times certain members of the latter Council may have been corrupt, but it is not something I can prove.

    So far nothing has been done with the site and the building appears to have been totally neglected. Even though it still stands the vandals and the elements are slowly destroying it. 

   Are the various Boards of Directors over the years deliberately neglecting it because they are hoping a fire, the elements or vandals will destroy the building to the extent that it is beyond repair, meaning that when what remains of the building is bulldozed the blame will not be directed to the PCYC Board of Directors that make that final decision?

   That is one of the oldest tricks in the book when it comes to the art of attempting to get rid of historic buildings in a way that will minimise public discontent. But, the public are now fully aware of that tactic and it can no longer be executed in a credible manner. I believe the phrase is "demolition through neglect." 

    If at some stage a Board of Directors contemplates demolishing the building it should not make the mistake of the 2006 Board which did not first call for community consultation to ensure the building was not so far gone it could not be saved.

   And contrary to what some Board members believe, they have a moral obligation to many individuals, charities and taxpayers to keep the building functioning, as all of the previously mentioned people gave time and/or money in order for the Turner club to be built. Had the past boards and committees accepted no public or private money or labour in establishing the Turner club it would be a different story.  

  Should the Turner PCYC succumb to fire, the elements or vandalism, to the extent that it is written off and bulldozed, the persons who have held office in the various PCYC Boards of Directors from 2006 onwards will be written into Canberra’s history for all the wrong reasons. 

UPDATE 15/5/24 

   I was sent a link tonight showing a part of a Canberra Times article by a journalist named Brittney Levinson, which announced that the Turner PCYC will be demolished. 

    I bet we hear more poor and inaccurate excuses for its demolition, such as it being contaminated by asbestos, even though the problem had been fixed years before its closure.

  But, maybe the current PCYC Board of Directors were thrown a hospital pass which originated from the 2006 Board, and although I am sure it was repairable in 2006 maybe the years of neglect since then really have ensured it should be written off. I don't know. 

   I would have preferred that the current Board, before deciding to demolish the place, had called for community consultation so the state of the building could have been independently inspected and assessed to ensure restoration really was not possible, as some people believe a full restoration is still entirely feasible. 

  It would seem that nowadays there is little appreciation of history and little empathy for kids who need a centrally located place to amuse themselves, as I once did at the Turner PCYC.

    An important part of Canberra's past will vanish.

  If anyone knows the names of the current PCYC Board of Directors, who presumably were responsible for deciding on the demolition of the Turner building, please let me know. I believe their names should be published in order to complete the history of the club, starting with its birth and ending with its death.

   Above is a 2014 photo of the Turner PCYC wrestling room showing the work of vandals.

FIRST WRITTEN BY DAVE WHEELER ON 2/4/13 

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