The Way We Were
Sequicentenary of Gunnedah 1856 - 2006

The way we were

Gunnedah was once a “straggling little town.”

That’s how the correspondent of the Town and Country Journal saw it in 1873 when the township comprised 500 “hardy souls.”

Running a critical pen over the town, the correspondent said Gunnedah was “in a state of lethargy.”

“The inhabitants of the town, although nearly all owners of land and houses, do not, with a few notable exceptions, appear to be endowed with energy or enterprise. Did they bestir themselves a little more, the town would be better known and their wants more readily attended to ...”

The only glimmer of optimism in the report was the comment ...”Gunnedah is the first town on the Namoi of any importance and though ... in a lethargic state, it is likely, from its position, to become ultimately the chief depot of the extensive pastoral district of the Liverpool Plains.”

In those early years, Gunnedah was a ragged collection of cypress pine slab homes, crude commercial buildings and a few more substantial brick and stone buildings, all confined to three ill-formed, rutted streets running parallel to the Namoi River.

Thirty years earlier, the fledgling township had been settled on the banks of the Namoi – too close in fact. In 1864, the Namoi burst through the tiny settlement, destroying homes, hotels and businesses. It was after 1864 that the limits of settlement started to spread – away from the river, onto higher ground.

In 1873 the Town and Country Journal claimed that Gunnedah had “no magnificent buildings,” suggesting that the most impressive structure was the police lock-up and residence.

Not much had changed, either, by 1901, when Australia took the bold step to national unity. Such a grand event as Federation hardly rated a mention in the Namoi Independent – certainly there was no report of any local celebrations in the issue of January 3, 1901.

The nationalist fervour fuelled by Federation was reflected in the Australian response to the Empire’s call for “men at the front” in World War 1. Young men, more than 300,000 of them, sailed away on their grand adventure to the other side of the world.

For large numbers, however, their adventure came to a shuddering halt – on the craggy slopes of Gallipoli, or in the mud, slush and unspeakable horror of the French Front. Sixty thousand Australians died – among them more than 100 from the Gunnedah district. Imagine what a devastating impact that

would have had on a small community of less than 3000.

And after the war, the survivors and their families endured a different kind of hell, through the Great Depression of the 1930s, when men humped swags around the countryside looking for work and wives kept the homes fires burning and waged a grim struggle to feed and clothe the family.

Twenty years after the guns fell silent on the war to end all wars, the world was again turned upside down by conflict. Another generation “did their duty” – and paid a high price. Seventy-seven Gunnedah and district service personnel did not return.

Once again, servicemen and women came home to pick up the threads of ordinary life.

It was in the post-war period that Gunnedah began to gather momentum. Soldier settlement schemes, such as the break-up of Goolhi station, brought new settlers to the district, wool prices boomed and a revitalised community, throwing off the grim shackles of war, began to exhibit the community spirit that was to become the town’s trademark.

This spirited community built a new aerodrome and established the war memorial baths, a massive project brilliantly co-ordinated which transformed a rock quarry and garbage dump into a matchless community asset.

It was also during the 1950s that the Gunnedah Abattoir was established and for many years it was the “jewel in the crown” of the processing industry, providing, at times, as many as 600 local jobs.

Good times, though, don’t last forever. The 1990s were marked by a series of reversals – the closure of the abattoir and the depletion of reserves which led to the wind-down and eventual close of the Preston, Vickery and Gunnedah coal mines. The domino effect of job losses and departures led to the closure of the Gunnedah RSL Sports Club, which had been the social hub of the town for years.

Through it all, though, the town’s spirit was undimmed.

Down through the years, Gunnedah has been a microcosm of the Australian way of life. Gunnedah people, in the collective sense, comprise a tiny corner of a giant canvas.

But each life is a unique event, each a kaleidoscope of triumph and tragedy, of good times and bad, of joy and heartbreak on the road to eternity.

That “straggling little township” has grown up and become a modern, progressive and vibrant centre, a town with spirit. What will Gunnedah be like in 150 years’ time?

RON McLEAN, Editor