Flappers and fellas



Graduating from UNE, April 2013

Wow, I really have been under the radar for the past couple of months. Life has been busy for this genealogist. Finally graduating from the University of New England with my Advanced Diploma in Local, Family & Applied History, I had the urge to expand my knowledge and recently enrolled in the Bachelor of Historical Inquiry and Practice through UNE, which I will begin in a few short weeks. Fruitless job hunting efforts (anyone in need of a genealogist??), helping out at a friend’s cafe, archiving decade’s worth of accounting work, waitressing at the odd wedding and assisting with the overwhelming job of packing up and relocating the Geelong Heritage Centre. All the while trying to organise dinner party with a 1920s theme. It has been busy!!

Amuri's recipe books from
 throughout the 20th century

It’s all about The Great Gatsby. And hey, if Baz Luhrmann can pull it off, surely I can host the 1920s-esque dinner party of the century.  If truth be told, I have neither read, nor seen F. Scott Fitzgerald’s work about just how great Gatsby was, nor was it the pomp and pizzazz of the recent movie release that inspired me to host a dinner centred around this ostentatious decade. It actually came about during another cupboard clean out and the discovery of a couple of notebooks filed with newspaper clippings and handwritten recipes belonging to my great grandmother throughout the twentieth century. It seems that she and a friend, Mrs Shannon constantly exchanged recipes through that archaic form of correspondence – snail mail. These recipes consisted of everything from drop scones (pikelets), potted meats, jellied tongue and even ‘Wurrook Fluff’. It fascinated me. There is a published pamphlet of recipes compiled by Amuri and a Mrs Champ of recipes called ‘Barwon Heads: Favourite Recipes’, which raised and donated funds for the Barwon Heads Branch of the Red Cross Society and the Auxiliary for the Blind, two groups my great grandmother was a fanatical patriot for.



Amuri with Tom & Erica
outside 'Wurrook', c. 1927.

Amuri with Erica in the car, c. 1928.

Along with planning the menu, I have had the fascinating task of researching the fashion of the era, this inevitably started with the requisite Google search and found opulence and glamour in an era coming out of the devastation of the First World War and prior to the Great Depression of the 1930s. The Google search aside, I did a little personal research of my own and discovered some family photos of my great grandparents. Very fashionable in their fox furs, glamorous jewels and chauffeur driven cars, with and without two children in tow, the Russell’s were the epitome of 1920s (and beyond) opulence.

 

So in a few weeks time I will try and replicate my version of the 1920s with cuisine, cocktails and clothing of the decade. I will attempt to make the night as close as possible to the time, even pulling out some of the family silverware (Silvo come at me) for serving and the odd outfit from the archives (yes, items belonging to my great grandmother, possibly with a slight odour of moths).

 

1920s wedding party. Tom Russell at left, Eric & Amuri fifth from right.

I am off to plan the menu, test the Mint Juleps and Gin Rickeys before beginning Dry July and taking-on prohibition and fundraising for Geelong’s Andrew Love Cancer Centre.

Wish me luck!

 

Please feel free to support my Dry July bid, where proceeds raised will go to Andrew Love Cancer Centre, Geelong. Search for Phoebe Wilkens to directly donate to the cause.

It's a nice day for a white wedding

It seems that I have been on hiatus for a while. But no fear, I have returned!! I can feel the excitement and enthusiasm radiating through your computers right now as you read this (wishful thinking?).

 

The Taylor-Hughes’

Just yesterday my grandparents would have celebrated their 53^rd wedding anniversary. Sadly, my grandfather Lionel passed away in May last year, so he was missed, but remembered by all of his family yesterday. However, he did spend fifty-two married years with my grandmother Judy, plus a few more on top of that ‘courting’.


'Just Married': Lionel & Judy with their wedding party, 1960.

On 27 February 1960 Judith Heather Hughes walked down the aisle of Christ Church in Moorabool Street, Geelong followed by her bridesmaid, Dorothy Barnes. Judy was wearing a magnolia satin gown with a tulip neckline while Miss Barnes was wearing an avocado green satin sheath dress with an interesting back panel and a Dior bow.[1] Waiting at the other end of the aisle was Lionel Taylor accompanied by his best man and brother Arthur Taylor. The men were looking dapper in their black tuxedos and bow ties. After this happy affair and the ‘I do’s’ had been signed, sealed and delived, the couple went on a honeymoon to Sydney. Eventually driving to their final destination, they stopped in at the Savoy in Spencer Street for their first night as a married couple before making their way to New South Wales.

Cutting the cake: Lionel and Judy Taylor.

Once married and returned to reality the couple moved in to their first home in Herne Hill where they started a family and lived for nearly 30 years.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Wilkens-Russells

A few years earlier on 19 October 1957 at St Georges Presbyterian Church, Geelong, Eric Russell walked his only daughter Erica down the aisle to wed Hank Wilkens. Erica wore a gown of magnolia delustred brocade with a cowl neckline and long lily point sleeves. An orange blossom half circlet on the back of her hair held a lovely old Carrick Macross lace veil, which the bride’s mother [Amuri] had worn at her wedding.[2] After the lavish ceremony followed the even more extravagant reception which was held at the brides’ parents home in Barwon Heads in a large marquee adorned with flowers. The guests consisted of friends, family and ‘society’s’ glamorous couples eating and drinking in celebration of Erica and Hank’s marriage.

 

 

 

Above: The new Mr & Mrs Wilkens, 1957.

Left: Hank and Erica signing the registry.

 

However, it wouldn’t be worth talking about if there wasn’t some ‘skeleton’. Not spoken about so freely was the fact that Erica had previously been engaged in somewhat of a ‘society match’ before she met Hank who had emigrated from the Netherlands in the early 1950s. What was also never discussed was the fact that Hank had been married before in his native Netherlands. Ultimately that marriage ended in divorce not long before he left permanently for Australia. Regardless of these previous relationships Hank and Erica were happily married for over thirty years before Hank passed away in the early 1990s.

The next generation

A few decades later on Saturday 19 February 1983 Andrew Wilkens, younger son of Hank and Erica and Amanda Taylor, eldest daughter of Lionel and Judy were married at St Johns’ Church in West Geelong. In all things 80s, especially following the resplendent wedding of Prince Charles and Princess Diana a few years earlier, the Taylor-Wilkens wedding had undertones of the royals. Flanked with four bridesmaids draped in marshmallow pink chiffon and four groomsmen dressed in tuxedos and bow ties. Their wedding photos were posed in the Geelong Botanic Gardens draped on an empty water fountain surrounded by brown crunchy grass. The wedding date had fallen in the middle of an extremely hot summer and a few days after the devastating Ash Wednesday bushfires which engulfed parts of Victoria. Their wedding reception was held at Kirrewur Court in Geelong, the same place that Lionel and Judy celebrated their wedding. Amanda and Andrew left their reception and boarded a plane to the ultra ‘exotic’ Bali for their honeymoon for two weeks.

Above: Amanda & Andrew and wedding party, 1983.

 

 

Weddings are an exciting time and for my forbearers have been the start of a new chapter, the meshing of families and the beginning to new generations.

 

I could go on, and maybe I will make it a two-parter. Stay tuned for the sequel.

---

[1] Geelong Advertiser, 1960.

[2] Ibid., 1957.

Christmas cheer

This final blog post for the year is dedicated to those we have lost this year, and in particular Lionel, Mary and Kathrine.

This last year my family have done a lot of reminiscing and this in particular has helped to bring flesh and meaning to the stories I write about here. It makes what I write more personal and meaningful to be able to explain and explore traditions, myths, legends and questions brought about by my incessant and persistent inquiries.

And being the time of year I thought writing about past Christmas’ would be appropriate for my final blog post of 2012.

 

Christmas by the beach

Wilkens family Christmas at Barwon Heads, c. 1964

In the 1960s and 70s when my father was growing up, he and his family would make their way to ‘Wurrook’ in Barwon Heads where Amuri and Eric Russell, their grandparents, had retired. Christmas’ with the Russell and Wilkens clan was always a big deal. They would open presents either at home in Lara and then Meredith on the farm or when they arrived in Barwon Heads with their grandparents. Christmas lunch would see the family gathered around the large dining room table in the grand dining room. The table set with the best china and silverware collected over the years or passed down through the generations of Russell’s and Rutherford’s. Amuri and Eric would spoil their grandchildren Rob, Sue, Rick, Andrew and Kathrine with presents and Christmas treats. The call to hot Christmas lunch would be heard throughout the house with the sound of the dinner gong ringing out to summon the troops. Lunch with all the trimmings would be served up followed by plum pudding hiding silver coins in its flesh, a tradition passed down through my grandmother to us as children. The one thing that would have been missing was traditions my Dutch grandfather would have been used to. As a child my father does not remember having his Dutch ancestry play a part in his Christmas holiday traditions. Therefore, this year I am trying to integrate something Dutch into our traditional Australian Christmas lunch and dinner.

 

Santa Clause visits Herne Hill

For my mother Christmas started on Christmas Eve. Like a lot of families growing up in the 1960s and 70s they would attend the midnight service at St John’s in West Geelong before making their way home to try and clamp their eyes shut for the impending visit from Santa Clause. Christmas morning they would be up early to see what goodies would be stashed under the Christmas tree. After ripping the paper frantically to discover dolls, scooters, books and other prized possessions they would scurry over to the neighbours to check out their loot and compare gifts. Lunch for the Taylor family would be a table overloaded with several different meats and many, many veggies. Nanny Laura’s sago plum pudding would be drowned in homemade custard with a dollop of brandy butter. My mother and her family, including her cousins, aunt and uncle would stuff themselves silly with the festive feast before being excused from the table. The kids would go off and play with their newly received Christmas presents while the parents would have a sleep after lunch – a particularly boring thought for the young children.

Above: Mandy & Claire on Christmas day, c. 1963.

Above right: Mandy with Santa at St Johns, West Geelong.

Through the combination of both of these families and their traditions, my own family has brokered its own traditions and carried on those of my ancestors.

 

 

 

Above: Andrew & Mandy with Phoebe & Edwina. Christmas day 1989

 

So, to all of the readers out there I wish you a very merry Christmas and a safe and happy new year. Stuff yourselves with turkey, pudding and good cheer and I look forward to sharing more with you in 2013.

Phoebe

 

In the summertime when the weather is fine

The initial idea of this blog came from some inspiration from Inside History magazine, a gentle shove from an aunt, my great love and enthusiasm for all things genealogy and family history and the fascination I get from wading through old family photos. So the latter paired with my great love of the summer season and all it brings has led me to the inevitable – sharing family stories, myths and legends along with some sepia toned photos of family members past and present.

All Victorian’s will know that summer has already hit us before the official turning of the season. Yes, it seems it is going to be one mighty hot (and humid) summer for Victorians. So, this is a great introduction into this week’s post; warm days and summers spent with family and friends on beaches, farms and tropical far off places.

I have been extremely lucky to be able to spend summers by the seaside, running into crashing waves, squelching sand between my toes and lapping up my fair share of Vitamin D. And it seems that my ancestors have had the same inclination.

Barwon Heads

Above: Erica Russell (at left) with friends at Barwon Heads c. 1920s.

My great grandparents lived an affluent life being descendants of the Victorian ‘Squattocracy’. They lived and ran the property ‘Wurrook’, which was a part of the ‘Barunah Plains’ dynasty. Their affluence led to Eric, my great grandfather to retire early in his life, sell the farm and move to their holiday home in Barwon Heads, which they also named ‘Wurrook’. This large home on Flinders Parade, a few footsteps from the beach was the background for all summers for my great grandparents, grandmother and my father and his siblings. My grandmother Erica would ride her horses along the beach when she was growing up; my father, his brother and sister would spend days on end over their Christmas holidays swimming in the ocean and making sandcastles, just a stones’ throw from watchful eyes of their grandmother.

Above: Eric Russell and Erica Wilkens with Kathrine & Andrew, Barwon Heads c. 1964.

 

 

 

Anglesea & Torquay

 

About 40kms down the road my mother and her family would spend hot days on the beach at Anglesea. By the 1960s my great grandmother Laura Taylor had two grown sons and several grandchildren. In the late-60s Laura bought a small house in Camp Road, Anglesea where she and her family would spend weekends, holidays and summers. There are many happy, colourful (and very 70s inspired outfits) of their days gallivanting in the salt waters of Anglesea as well as Torquay.

 Above: Judy Taylor with Anthea & Mandy, Anglesea c. 1969.

Left: Lionel Taylor with baby Mandy on the beach c. 1961. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Java, Indonesia (formerly the Dutch East Indies)

My grandfather was born and raised in the Dutch East Indies, dark haired and olive skinned (passed down to some of his grandchildren, including me). His days were passed in the heat and humidity which was part and parcel of living in the tropics. Photos of sunny days show Hank and his brother Lou climbing trees and holding monkeys. Hank’s move to Australia (I will touch on this in upcoming blogs with new information just coming to hand) would have seen a different kind of heat. The dry heat that he would not have been used to in Indonesia or the Netherlands. His summer’s once in Australia would have been spent on the farm and at Barwon Heads with his children.

 

 

 

Above: Helena Wilkens with sons Hendrik & Louis,

Java, Dutch East Indies, 1920s.

 

Preparedness   

 

Preparation for the summer season isn’t all about having the right pair of bathers or having enough sunscreen, for many Australians and bush-dwellers in particular, summer brings the scary prospect of bushfires. Victoria saw the devastation of the Ash Wednesday fires in February 1983 and the Black Saturday fires in January 2009, but one summer that my father and his family will always remember but like to forget is January 1969. The Lara bushfires ripped through the township on 8 January 1969, properties, livestock, homes and livelihoods were lost in the face of a wall of fire. They had to face

evacuations and destruction in the wake of fierce northerly winds and soaring summer temperatures. They were lucky to walk away unscathed, but had lost a lot in the wake of the ferocious fire storm that ripped through the scorched land.

My ancestors may have instilled a love and history to summers spent on the beach, but they have also infused awareness for bushfire season and safety.

Left: Rick, Kathrine & Andrew Wilkens on the beach at
Barwon Heads shortly after the Lara bushfires, February 1969.

 

 

 

 

 

So, enjoy your summers, stay safe and cool in the impending heat and have a fire plan.

Phoebe

Fancy fillies

If you are an avid reader of my blog (yes, I know there must be at least a few of you), you might have noticed the propensity for me to have a general theme to my writings. And this blog post will be no different.

It is quickly come to the pointy end of year; the sun starts to shine, Christmas decorations start to adorn the shelves of shops and end of year festivities are planned. It is also a time when Victoria becomes immersed in all things horse-related. Yes, it’s the Spring Racing Carnival and apart from the oversized feathered hats, large consumption of champagne and men in suits; it is also a time when the horses shine. This then leads me to my topic for this week. I am a huge fan of the Spring Racing Carnival and love to have a bet on the horses, and when I was much younger I used to want my own pony to ride through the paddocks with the wind in my hair. Two things abated this dream. First, my father refused, point blank to have horses on the property, be around them or work with them; and second, I was overcome by sneezes and puffy eyes when I came within feet of a horse. There goes the dream of being the next Elizabeth Taylor in National Velvet.

Horses were a huge, if not the biggest part of my grandparents’ life. As a couple they held a well known and rather exclusive Dressage teaching school from their property in Lara and Meredith during the 1960s and 70s. However, as individuals they were mighty powerful in the horsing world.

Above: Erica Russell & friend on a horse, c. 1930.

My grandmother, Erica Russell grew up around horses, as did both of her parents, Eric and Amuri. However Erica was a whole different kettle of fish. It seems that she was comfortable on horseback from a very early age, I’m sure there were two factors to this narrative. The first being that she grew up on the land and it would have been a requirement that she be sturdy riding a horse, the second would be (and there is photographic evidence of this), she was probably put there under duress. Her brother Tom was 12 years her senior and there are many photos of him propping her up on a horse. So it is quite likely that she could ride before she could walk!!

From as early as the mid-1940s Erica was riding professionally. Pounding the ground at Royal shows throughout Victoria and even the country. Fairing more than well, and taking many top prizes and places along the way. She featured in newspaper pictorials throughout the 1950s for her placing in the Garryowen events, her winning the Equestrienne event and training for the 1956 Olympics.

 

Left: Erica on 'Flame', Geelong Show 1948.

Below: Erica on her favourite and most successful horse, 'Brown David, Colac Show 1949.

 

 

 

 

Erica, now in her mid-80s has dementia, however she remembers her time riding horses with great enthusiasm and in particular her favourite horse Brown David. She may not remember much these days, but she can tell you all about horses and could look at any rider and pick them apart (with vigour).

Hank was also an excellent horse rider, particularly when it came to Dressage. He competed in his native Netherlands in cross country events and was also very successful. I don’t know if his family also had an affinity with horses, but there are some photos which would lead any observer to the affirmative. When he came to Australia he continued to ride, teach and work with horses, he also wrote papers on the techniques of Dressage (which I don’t have the slightest bit of patience or interest to read).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Above: Hank riding in a cross country event, The Netherlands, 1949.

Left: Louis Wilkens on horseback, the Dutch East Indies, c. 1925.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As I said, horses were a huge part of their lives. And this is why they aren’t a huge part of mine. That said, I will put a bet on the odd race during the Spring Racing Carnival, but won’t get too close, save for sneezing all day.

Good luck and I hope you (and I) back a winner!!

Phoebe

Traditions

Looking for inspiration for my next blog post, I got to thinking about traditions. Traditions are events, elements of culture, beliefs and customs which are passed down through generations. Traditions, I suppose can go hand-in-hand with genealogy (or just this genealogist). Learning about the customs which your ancestors shared with other generations; who made the Christmas pudding every year (grandma)? How did that painting come to hang on our wall? Why do we have so many ribbons and photographs of showing sheep at the local show? The latter may not be a question posed by many people, but is definitely prevalent in our family.

It’s not just these shows which feature heavily throughout my ancestry, but livestock and sheep in particular. Both sides of the family tree have strong connections with sheep, and today, it is still a part of my family. Whether it be topping the markets in the wool sales for my Russell ancestors of Barunah Plains or Wurrook, and frequenting the local news of the time, detailing as much; or making a living through the sheep markets, which the Rutherford family would inevitably have done to help to amass their wealth and prominence.

 

 

 

 

 

Above: The Argus (Melbourne), 20 August 1927.

Right: The Argus (Melbourne) 18 November 1932

My maternal great grandfather was a sheep shearer by profession, travelling the country and living on the road going from one sheep shed to the next to make ends meet. Rumour has it that this side of the family was also one of the first to import merinos to Australia (a fact I am yet to verify). My sister and I were propositioned one school holidays to shovel sheep poo for a hefty (at the time) wage. We quickly tired of this and ate our whole days’ food within 2 hours of being left at the wool shed and were ready to retire from our shovelling duties soon after.

However, it was whilst I was moving the (precious/precarious) sheep into the shelter of the shed to prepare them for the upcoming Royal Geelong Show which got me thinking about our years showing sheep. We will be showing the finest of our flock of Ryland Merino’s at the local show, which is where I will be late next week (trusty assistant to my father). Why does he do it? Well, it’s tradition. Once a thing of great prestige, Dad would often frequent the rural shows with his own parents, who both showed and judged throughout the 1960s, 70s and 80s. Now, he is often one of the few showing in the Ryland category, and if he does win the prestige of a trophy and/or ribbon, it is usually adorned with his own name as he provides the prize under the ‘Malung Ryland’ banner.

 

Above: Erica & Hank Wilkens (at right) with their winning sheep at the Royal Melbourne Show 1962.

 

 

 

Left: Andrew Wilkens at the Baccus Marsh Show, circa. 1972.

Below: Erica Wilkens, 1969.

We have copious amounts of black and white photos of grubby men and women, (actually, more often than not dressed in their Sunday-best), holding a robust ram in front of the critical eye of the judges. This year, I will be one of those grubby women (much to the pride of my father), holding the tempestuous rams (I am quite convinced they hate me as they stamp their feet and butt their heads in my direction as I try to coax them into shelter for the night). It’s a tradition, I didn’t realise that was odd, because as traditions go, well, they’re traditional and just something you are used to. However, the more people I tell, the more they look at me with a puzzled look asking why we do it. It’s a tradition; just something that we’ve always done.

 Above: Starting them young. Phoebe & Andrew Wilkens at the Royal Geelong Show 1988.

So, wish us luck for the show next week, and let the tradition continue on.

 

Phoebe.

Wurrook featured in 'Country Style' Magazine in Winter this year. For the article see this link. 

Newspaper articles were sourced from Trove.

World travels for the Rutherford's

It's official. I have submitted my final assignments for uni and now I am a free agent (well, considering that I pass). Therefore, I am free to blog (and find a job). I can hear the thrill from here.

After completing my final assigment - a research proposal for anything I pleased (well, within in reason and the 'history' field), I am now eager to complete the proposed research. As I mentioned in an earlier blog it is a biographical study about my Great Grandmother Amuri Russell, and in particular her time serving as a volunteer in the Women's Auxiliary Australian Air Force (WAAAF) during the Second World War. After undertaking preliminary research about her life and her service in the WAAAF, it has made me even more interested in her life and achievements.
Apart from the fact that I feel that you are all so eager for me to write down my discoveries and interests in this blog for you (all) to read, the first thought of all of this came when I was rustling through artefacts and photos of my ancestors that we found in my grandmother's house. In the piles of documents and much junk we found photo albums and diaries of Amuri's travels abroad in 1909-1911. What fascinated me was that I had the exact same photos taken 100 years later. Here are some of the discoveries I have made along the way.

Travels abroad

In 1909 Andrew and Emily Rutherford, accompanied by three of their daughters, Emily, Ethel and Amuri left New Zealand for a grand adventure abroad. They first set off for Sydney to spend several months in Australia. Andrew and his siblings had been born in Australia after his parents George and Isabel migrated to Australia from Scotland in about 1839. After 17 years in Australia, the Rutherford family re-settled in the Canterbury region of New Zealand to the property 'Leslie Hills', which is today, still owned and occupied by the Rutherford family.
It was during this time in Australia when Amuri met her future husband, my great grandfather, Eric Russell.

From Australia the Rutherfords made their way to Europe on the Otranto liner. They toured widely through England, and visited Scotland so as Andrew could see the graves of his descendants. The family also visited France, Italy and Germany.

 

Doge's Palace, Venice, Italy c. 1910.

Doge's Palace, Venice, Italy, 2011.

Throughout their travels Andrew had regular published correspondace in the local New Zealand newspapers, where he wrote of the things they saw, the people the met and the disappointments they faced in several European cities, "the people in Italy were not clean; the German's ate too much". Andrew was not the only writer in the family with Amuri also having much of her writing published in the Domion Newspaper in New Zealand, as well as a small book publised called 'Observations' and letters sent home to her family. Family members would send the correspondance around town to her aunts, uncles and cousins boasting of the time they were having.









Nice, France, c. 1910 (left) and 2011 (below).

After galavanting around Europe the family sailed on to New York, and then to Montreal and caught the rail to Vancouver, before travelling home via Honolulu, Fanning Island, Fiji and Sydney.

The family had seen and experienced extraordinary things on their two year journey, including the Coronation of King George and Queen Mary in London and a Thanksgiving service at St Pauls Cathedral, where Andrew had a particularly good view of the Royal couple.
For Amuri the homecoming also coincided with the announcement of her engagament to Australian Eric Russell, whom she would marry in December the following year (1912). For Ethel, she had found love in Canada and opposition in her parents, for they did not approve of the match. It took 5 years before Andrew and Emily gave her their blessing.

To this day, a large majority of the Rutherford family still reside in New Zealand. And as far as I know, there are still descendants in Canada and, of course, Australia. For a large family, they have not ventured far.

It fascinates me to think about how extravegant the Rutherford's travels would have been in the early 20th Century and time it would have taken for them to venture so far from New Zealand. And luckily for me, we still hold the diaries and photographs of this time and can therefore try to begin to grasp what a wonderful adventure it must have been.

Phoebe.



Sources cited:
Holm, Janet, Nothing But Grass and Wind: The Rutherfords of Cantury, Hazard Press, Christchurch, 1992.

Papers Past, various.

Russell, Amuri, Observations, The Christchurch Press Company, Christchurch, 1912.