This story was first published in 2018 while I was developing my play ‘The Hall Committee’. Commissioned by Wagga Civic Theatre with funding assistance from Create NSW, part of the process saw me meander through the Riverina interviewing hall committees to gather stories that would end up in the narrative. The Ganmain Hall Committee were the most loquacious and generous. Many of their stories were absorbed into the fictional world of the Rummage South Memorial Hall and there was much face palming from committee members when they saw the play in their own hall in late 2019. I’ve recently had pause to reflect on this time, as I begin another creative endeavour based on the places Australian communities gather.
The sun streaked into the hall from the side door illuminating the shining metal of the urn, which was slowly purring itself to the boil. Bernadette & Val busied themselves matching the cups to saucers.
‘Sorry it’s a bit dry Damian.’ Bernadette admonished herself as she opened the lid on the fruitcake tin. ‘Oi, what about your diabetes!’ she playfully snapped at Peter as he reached for a piece.
‘Can’t be much sugar in it if it’s dry’ he defended as he placed the cake on his saucer.
The table was strewn with local history pamphlets; photo albums and a copy of the ring bound 2011 Ganmain Hall Centenary Booklet they had brought for me to keep.
I was on a research tour of the Riverina meeting people to help develop a theatre piece entitled ‘The Hall Committee’ that I’m developing in association with Wagga Civic Theatre. Of all the towns I had visited, Ganmain had gone above and beyond and had flyers made up and put in every [occupied] shop window inviting people to come along and share their stories of their hall.
If you had lived in Ganmain as long as Peter [his real name is Leslie and he doesn’t know why people started calling him Peter] you’d have likely been to the hall to attend a Footy Club Wind-Up or Victory Banquet; partner a Deb; watch one of your mates in the Amateur Dramatic Society; find out who won Best Dahlia at the Flower Show; attend the Ganmain Scottish Ball or maybe even get married.
Ray from the Historical Society talked me through the history of the hall with Peter & Val chiming in with the anecdotes that made the walls of the hall talk. The hall was commissioned by revered Ganmain Hotel Publican LJ Cooney and as such was known as Cooney’s Hall in it’s early years as it played host to Balls, Big Bands and Bill Bartlett’s Moving Pictures.
Over time the town lost track of who owned it until they discovered in the early 60’s that it was in fact the property of Tooths Brewery. The council came to an arrangement with Tooths and they paid a yearly stipend of 1 shilling until the town finally acquired the hall outright for the princely sum of $1 in 1981. My offer of $5 bucks was soundly rejected by the committee.
The conversation became whispered when I brought up the halls near demise in 2001. Val, widely touted as the hall’s saviour, refused to accept that she was the primary reason the wrecking ball never made its way over Boggy Creek to knock down the now restored hall. She deflected the conversation back to the hall’s glory days: The Supper Dance Era!
‘We’d sometimes do 4 supper sittings on a big night.’ Gwen Brill says in her ‘Memories of The Hall. ‘120 a sitting! On cold frosty nights, the steam from the copper would hit the tin roof and then drip down onto whoever was working in the kitchen.’
‘To polish the floor for the dance.’ Peter explained. ‘We’d cover a wooden box with hessian soaked in wax and kerosene. Then they’d get a little bloke like me to sit in it to weigh it down. Then they’d tie a rope to it and drag it around the hall with a motorbike.’
It’s hard to imagine that the dance itself was any more entertaining than the set up.
One of Peter’s earliest memories of the hall was just after WW2. ‘I was the youngest member of the town band but when war broke out we donated our instruments to the local RAAF base out at Forest Hill so they’ve have something to use in their down time. So I gave them my cornet.’ You could see the sadness of the 11 year old in his eyes. ‘Towards the end of the war our band-leader paid the RAAF Base a visit and found the instruments weren’t being used and he gave them a bit of a talking to. Then just after the war ended the RAAF Band came and played a concert for the whole town and at the end of the show they gave us our instruments back … are you alright Damian?
‘Just got something in my eye Peter … More fruitcake?’
Peter and Ray both had to go to medical appointments, as is the way of the ageing ‘Supper Dance Generation.’ After they left the more sprightly Val & Bernadette gave me a walking tour. They proudly pointed out the ‘hand me down’ stage curtains donated by Wagga Civic Theatre, whose burgundy folds had parted to reveal their fair share of regional Gilbert and Sullivan performances. We entered the supper room and stepped over the Senior Citizen’s Club carpet bowls mat and past multiple portraits of the Queen before the door to the kitchen was opened with a flourish. The ‘Great Kitchen Reno’ had been funded by the town’s annual Christmas market that is curiously held in October. When I enquired about this calendar glitch, Bernadette explained … ‘other local towns like Narrandera, Ariah Park and Junee have copied us and started their own Christmas markets, so we keep moving the date to ensure we are the first cab off the rank.’
Val ran a finger across the steel bench tops as Bern talked me through the financial turn around since the hall could now properly cater for weddings, the October Christmas Market and the Biannual Quilt show.
As they walked me out, Bern pointed to the spot on the floor where she met her husband. ‘I wasn’t even meant to be here. I was living in Wagga and my friend dragged me out, but once the dance started she shot through with her new fella. I was standing on my own wondering how I could get back home when a bloke comes up and asks ‘and who might you be?’ so I tell him my name and then he says ‘and where are you from?’ So I tell him I’m from Wagga and he nods as if to say ‘that’s a manageable distance’ … and the rest is history.’
‘Did you get married in here to?’ I asked
‘Yes, on my *9th birthday.’
*Apologies to Bernadette for using artistic licence in fabricating her age of marriage. She assured me she was well into her early teens when she got hitched to Guy.
This is great Damian
What a delight! (Not too dry, just right.) ❤️