Category Archives: Uncategorized

Coral Lansbury, the PM’s mother

I think I’ve developed an unhealthy obsession with Malcolm Turnbull’s mother, not least because he was born in October 1954, more than a year before she married his father in December 1955. These things don’t matter a damn any more, but they probably cut quite deep for both mother and son back in the 1950s.

Most Australians know the general outline of the story, now covered in more detail in Paddy Manning’s new book, Born to Rule: The Unauthorised Biography of Malcolm TurnbullMalcolm Turnbull was the only child of Bruce Turnbull and Coral Lansbury. He was sent to boarding school when he was 8, in 1963, and ‘soon after’ – as her Australian Dictionary of Biography article discreetly puts it – the marriage fell apart. Coral left her son behind, but took the furniture. Turnbull talked a little bit about his mother on Annabel Crabb’s Kitchen Cabinet – an old program, repeated on ABC recently after the leadership spill. It’s available on iView until 23 December (in Australia only).

Image 6-12-2015 at 1.00 pm

From Trove Newspapers

From her teens, Coral  worked in radio as an actress and scriptwriter. She married 3 times. Her first marriage was to radio actor George Edwards, who played ‘Dad’ in the long-running radio series Dad and Dave. She was 23, while he was 64, and this was his fourth marriage. Two days after the wedding, Edwards was hospitalized with pneumonia, and died 6 months later in August 1953.

What interests me, though, is that Coral Lansbury was a historian. She was appointed a lecturer in History and Australian Studies at the University of New South Wales in 1963, and wrote articles for the Australian Dictionary of Biography, including one on her first husband, actor George Edwards, one on the trade unionist William Guthrie Spence (with her supervisor, Bede Nairn) and – oddly – one on Charles Dickens.

It is now more than 50 years since the original Australian Dictionary of Biography was conceived, and at present discussions are going on to work out how – and how much – to update the project, just as in the UK the original Dictionary of National Biography has been updated to the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Web publishing makes such an update possible, though it is still a massive undertaking. It also requires policy decisions about who does or does not get included. These days I don’t think Charles Dickens would get the cut, although the ADB has included other British figures who never came to Australia, mostly politicians and bureaucrats who had a more obvious influence on the Australian colonies.

In 1970, Coral Lansbury published Arcady in Australia: the evocation of Australia in nineteenth-century English literature (1970), in which she argued that Charles Dickens

invented the Australian Bush Legend. In 1850 he was concerned, like most English people, with a great problem: what to do with all those distressed and unemployed, the rising mob in England. Well, you know what Dickens did. He sent Micawber off to Australia, and there you have him perspiring in the sun. The most unemployable character in literature becomes a magistrate… And the Arcadian legend is born not in Australia but (because) a great many English people… wanted to impose it on Australia.
‘Mum of ‘Spycatcher’ lawyer has regrets’, Canberra Times, 23 October 1988

Coral Lansbury’s academic career followed a strange trajectory, even by the standards of clever women of her day, struggling to carve out a place in the university system during the 1950s and 1960s. She went to the University of Sydney and did a BA with first class honours, but according to her ADB entry, ‘as an unmatriculated student, she was ineligible to graduate’. Why? How could that happen? She won prizes – the George Arnold Wood prize for history, and the Henry Lawson prize for poetry – but it took 11 years from starting an MA in 1952 to appointment as a lecturer at UNSW in 1963, the year that her son Malcolm was sent off to boarding school at the age of 8.

At about that time, her second marriage began to fall apart. She began an affair with a fellow historian, J. H. M. (Jock) Salmon, and they married when both their divorces were finalized. They moved first to the University of Waikato, New Zealand, and then to America, where Coral was appointed Professor and later Dean of Graduate Studies at Rutgers University. Her later academic publications include The Reasonable Man: Trollope’s Legal Fiction (1981), and Elizabeth Gaskell (1984). She also wrote a number of novels. She might have had an even more stellar career, but in 1991 she died of bowel cancer, aged 62.

Two years ago, the Australian Dictionary of Biography produced The ADB’s Story (ed. Melanie Nolan and Christine Fernon) to mark the 50th anniversary of the ADB project. Melanie Nolan also wrote the ADB entry on Coral Lansbury, which may be why Malcolm Turnbull, then Minister for Communications, was invited to launch the book. The full speech is here – but this is how he began:

Can I say at the outset how incredibly moved I was – I nearly burst into tears at the end of this room when I came here – because you were kind enough to mention my Mother was a contributor, not a high-volume contributor, but a contributor to the ADB (Australian Dictionary of Biography). But I was extraordinarily moved talking to you three and to others here, because I was for the first time I can remember, since my Mother’s death, in the company of historians. And I had forgotten what that felt like. And it is actually very different. And I can’t quite put my finger on it but I was nearly overwhelmed by a wave of emotion. So don’t think I’m just a flinty-hearted politician!

Some months ago, Khaled al-Asaad, an 82-year-old archaeologist, was tortured and killed in Palmyra by ISIS thugs. Referring to this terrible event, Tony Abbott called al-Asaad an antiquarian. Now ISIS’s crime was so horrific that it seems churlish to mention in the same breath our former PM’s minor linguistic crime, but I must admit that it is a relief to have a new Prime Minister who knows the difference between an antiquarian and an archaeologist, and one who has expressed publicly his fondness for the company of historians.

Note: The original typescripts of Coral Lansbury’s radio plays are part of the Eunice Hanger Collection of Australian Playscripts in the Fryer Library, University of Queensland.

Anzac Memories

There has just been a brief flurry in the Twittersphere about an advertising campaign by Woolworths, featuring a photo of an Australian soldier, overlaid with the words ‘Fresh in our Memories’ and the Woolworths logo. Woolworths promote themselves as ‘the Fresh Food people’, so this was seen as more than usually blatant commercialism.

I confess that when I first saw the posters, in my local supermarket, my reaction was less: ‘How dare this grocery giant take in vain the sacred Anzac name for commercial purposes?’ and more ‘Oh God, not another haunting sepia image, just like all the others we’ve been seeing everywhere lately!’

Woolworths Anzac advertisement

Within hours of the advertisements appearing (or so they say, although at my store they were up days earlier) the Minister for Veterans Affairs had released a press statement and Woolworths pulled the campaign.

Since the media that ran with the story is the same media that has featured haunting sepia images for months, it all seemed a little hypocritical. The truth of it is, I think, that I’ve reached Peak Gallipoli. I’m not the only one. A major TV series on Gallipoli scored disappointingly low ratings, even though it was excellent – or so they say. I didn’t watch it either.

This year is the Centenary of the Gallipoli campaign, and of the landing of Australian and New Zealand troops at Anzac Cove on 25 April 1915 at the beginning of a long and disastrous campaign that killed a great many men on both sides. Turkey’s involvement with the Axis Powers was minimal, but there was a long history of commercial rivalry between Britain and Germany, both of whom bribed the Sultan’s court shamelessly for concessions to build railways. (Some of the more decorative bribes are now on display at the Topkapi Palace.)

topkapi palace jewel

Behind the veneer of patriotism, oil was important too. In the 19th century, steamships burned coal, but loading lumps of coal was messy and labour-intensive. Pumping liquid oil was cleaner and quicker, and the British Navy completed its conversion to oil at the beginning of 1914. Coal is very widely available, but oil is found in fewer locations. The main supplies in 1914, like today, lay in the Middle East, so the role of companies like Anglo-Persian Oil were important.

The landing at Gallipoli opened a new front in the Great War, but it achieved very little for the invaders. Its main impact was to further destabilise the Ottoman Empire, triggering various nationalisms within a multinational empire that had previously been reasonably stable. Ethnic cleansing followed, starting with the Armenians, but later spreading to the Pontic Greeks as well.

The Versailles Peace Conference in 1919 confirmed the break-up of the Ottoman Empire, which was carved up and parcelled out amongst the victorious allies. One book about Versailles has the memorable title A Peace to End All Peace: Creating the Modern Middle East, 1914-1922 (by David Fromkin, 1989).

While the media and the Twittersphere were busy baying for Woolworths’ blood, elsewhere a contingent of 330 soldiers quietly left Brisbane for a ‘training mission’ in Iraq. The ironies abound. A joint Australian-New Zealand force [check], is being sent to the crumbling carcass of the Ottoman Empire [check] at the request of a great and powerful friend [check]. And nobody talks about oil [check].

2014 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 42,000 times in 2014. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 16 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

Little Bags of Poison

Two weeks ago, my 88-year-old mother’s unit block was unroofed in a ‘supercell’ storm, and the residents were evacuated. I have been too preoccupied since then to post anything to my blog – so I’m taking the lazy way out, by reposting something I wrote 3 years ago. A day after the report on CIA torture was released, it seems appropriate.

Historians are Past Caring

The year was 1348, and terror haunted Europe.  An inexplicable, horrifying disease was spreading from city to city along the trade routes, killing as it went.  Within 4 years, perhaps a third of the population died, and nobody knew why.

In their fear, people looked for explanations – and scapegoats.  In Savoy, the authorities rounded up a number of Jews, men and women, and questioned them under torture.  One of them, Agimet of Geneva, had recently been to Venice to buy silk.  Before he left, according to his confession, he was approached by ‘a teacher of their law’, Rabbi Peyret, who gave him ‘a little package of half a span in size which contains some prepared poison and venom in a thin, sewed leather bag.’

‘Agimet took this package full of poison and carried it with him to Venice, and when he came there he threw and scattered a…

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Fluidity and the Pitch Drop Experiment

Forget the unforgettable drop. The Pitch Drop that I wrote about some time ago has finally dropped! http://www.smh.com.au/national/pitch-err-this-worlds-longestrunning-experiment-finally-drops-20140423-373s6.html

Historians are Past Caring

It’s probably not the most important scientific research project to come out of Queensland, but it may well be the most famous.  In 2005 the University of Queensland Physics Department’s ‘pitch drop experiment’ won the Ig Nobel Prize.  According to the 2002 Guinness Book of Records, it is the oldest continuously running scientific experiment in the world.  It has its own YouTube site .

What is the difference between a solid and a liquid?  For most materials, the answer is simple – water is a liquid, ice is a solid – but for some materials, the answer is less straightforward.  Which category does glass fit into, for instance?  It is often thought that it flows very slowly, so that gravity gradually distorts the shape of stained glass windows so that they are discernibly thicker at the bottom.  This seems to be disputed: hand-blown medieval glass panels are distorted, but it…

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Pecunia non olet

There has been a stoush going on in Sydney this week, because the Sydney Biennale has accepted funds from Transfield, and Transfield is one of the companies involved in running Australia’s highly controversial immigration facilities on Nauru and Manus Island. Since I’ve been too busy writing my book to write a blog post during the last week, I’m lazily re-blogging instead a post I wrote in 2011 that addressed the general issue of tainted money:

Historians are Past Caring

The Emperor Vespasian, a notorious tightwad, once introduced a tax on urine – it was used for washing togas, and other chemical purposes.  When his son Titus objected, he said, we are told by Suetonius, ‘Pecunia non olet’ – ‘money doesn’t stink’.  But does it?

The director of the London School of Economics, Sir Howard Davies, has just resigned because he accepted a donation of £1.5m for the university from a Gaddafi foundation, just shortly after Saif Gaddafi was awarded a PhD from the LSE.  As far as I know, no cause and effect has yet been proved, but it looks bad.

Universities have a long and dishonorable tradition of accepting money from rogues and ratbags, and the odd tyrant.  In a way, it’s the Robin Hood principle at work: there’s no point in robbing from the poor, but soliciting money from the rich means cosying up to…

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I think Jane Austen is stalking me

I haven’t been writing my blog lately because I’ve been busy writing my book.  At the moment I’m wrestling with chapters 6 and 7.  It’s 1822. Walter has arrived back in Britain, having made a fortune – over £100,000! – in China. I’m trying to set the scene for this transition point, and I keep tripping over Jane Austen.

In many ways, at this point in his life Walter Davidson was a quintessential ‘single man of good fortune…in want of a wife’. It’s a real phenomenon, and one that Jane Austen obviously knew: first, you make your fortune in some far off outpost of empire (or Yorkshire, in the case of the Bingleys), then you return to your local community, or a friend’s community, and shortly afterwards marry an appropriate girl within the extended family circle. Men like this are peppered throughout her novels. Continue reading

Alan Mathieson Turing: where does the Mathieson come from?

Alan Turing has just received a Royal Pardon – better late than never, I suppose, though I’ve never really understood the point of posthumous pardons. So, in the absence of a proper blog post (it’s Christmas, sorry), here’s the post I wrote about him 18 months ago.

Historians are Past Caring

2012 has been announced as the Alan Turing Year.  Next Saturday, 23 June, marks the 100th anniversary of the birth of Alan Mathieson Turing.  There have already been various events to mark the anniversary – on radio and television, and there will be a conference on Turing in Manchester this weekend. Turing was a mathematician, a very good one, possibly a genius – but nevertheless, most mathematicians don’t get this kind of celebrity treatment.

Turing’s fame depends on 2 periods of his life:

Firstly, during World War II, he led the team of cryptographers at Bletchley Park who cracked the German Enigma Code, thereby (according to Winston Churchill) shortening the war by 2 years.

Secondly, in 1952, the Manchester police charged him with ‘gross indecency’ for a consensual homosexual act.  He was given the choice of imprisonment, or a series of compulsory injections of oestrogen to cause ‘chemical castration’.  He…

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An archive to mark a milestone

One year ago this week, I began chemotherapy, following an operation for breast cancer that I alluded to here.  I managed to keep my blog going for another month or so, but eventually it was just too hard, and I gave it up in early December 2012.  After I finished radiotherapy in April, I started blogging again here in May this year. That means that there is a gap of nearly 5 months during which I wrote no posts, which made it awkward to start adding a ‘This time last year’ link to the bottom of posts, as I had done in 2012.

So I’ve been meaning for some time to put together links to all my blog posts in a single file. You can now find any of my posts through the ‘All Posts’ link above the header, which takes you to a drop down menu by year.

It has been interesting going through the whole run of posts.  I’ve found a few broken links, which I have/will fix, but please alert me to any others you may find.  I realise I have a terrible enthusiasm for puns in my titles, which seem hilarious at the time, but now just mean that readers will have no idea what the theme of the post was.  Can I recommend Her Dedication and Our Sedentary Ways as examples of this?

Some of the posts are dated – who cares about Sarah Palin any more? Others made depressingly accurate predictions about the decline of the Australian Labor Party or the rise of the military in Egypt. In general, I don’t make any claim for the predictive power of history, though I stand by the quote on my header:

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

My doctors, on the other hand, have been able to give a much less depressing prediction for my own future. I had various scans a fortnight ago and things are going well.

Cherries

Teredo – worms shall devour them

We’ve just heard officially that the Sandgate pier is going to be rebuilt, this time with concrete pilings, so I’m re blogging my post about the pier. As a historian, I’m not sure how I feel about a completely rebuilt object, but there’s probably no alternative. Details here.

Historians are Past Caring

Places matter to people.  In my suburb, one of our best-loved places is the Shorncliffe pier.  Throughout the day, it is a place for tai chi and joggers, crab pots and fishing.  In the early evening, it is full of friendly walkers, with or without dogs.  People sprinkle the ashes of those they love from its railings, or use it as a backdrop for wedding photos.  It was recently used in a UK television ad available on YouTube here.

They used to say that Sandgate is 12 miles from Brisbane – or 13 at low tide.  It is a long way out to deep water, so early settlers could not get their goods – or themselves – from ship to shore without wading.  As the community grew, in 1865 they made plans ‘for the construction of a PIER or LANDING STAGE at Sandgate’.  This pier opened to the public…

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