Music Master

On November 18^th 1929 the Concordia choral class and the orchestra staged a concert in the Adelaide Town Hall. The opening item was the orchestral selection entitled ‘Concordia’. This was conducted by the composer and singing master Hugh King who also played a group of three piano solos which were ‘appreciatively received.’
‘Captain King’, as he was known, became the college singing master in 1927. He built up a number of choirs, conducted the orchestra and was a popular teacher known for his enthusiasm, energy and good humour.
As a result of injuries suffered in the army during World War I, Captain King has lost three fingers. (This statistic is from the Brown and Gold magazine, while the history of Bethlehem Lutheran Church states that only one finger was missing!) His wrist was also partly disabled. Yet in spite of these handicaps, Captain King was a skilled pianist, having devised a completely new system of fingering. What is more, the loss of a leg and adapting to a wooden replacement did not prevent him from playing the organ.
In January 1933, while on holidays in Brisbane, he died after a short illness at the age of 39

Travelling Home

During the 1940s almost all Concordia students were boarders, with their family homes in other states and country South Australia. As a result, the long-awaited trip home at the end of term was often very drawn-out and far from straightforward.
These excerpts from two memoirs not only give an idea of what was involved, but also provide some insights into transport in the mid-20^th century.

‘Permits had to be obtained to travel during the war. To leave the hostel on a Thursday night – catch the tram in Duthy St to the city with luggage, walk to Adelaide Railway Station, board the boat train to Port Dock (Port Adelaide) and present tickets and permits to the officer on M.V. Minnippa which sailed at 7 pm for Port Lincoln – arriving Friday around 8am. The next step was to catch the 10.30am railcar at the Port Lincoln Railway Station, arriving at Minnipa at 6pm – then change to the steam train which would pick up or drop off carriages along the line and arrive at Ceduna between 8.30 and 9.30 Saturday morning.’
Val Kretschmer (Payne) Class of 1943.

‘In the early years we were in ‘dog-boxes’ in the trains: separate compartments, where passengers sat facing each other. The cases and other luggage were placed in the brass-mesh luggage rack above one's head. Obviously it was important to make sure they were firmly in place. We had more than one jerky start and blamed a novice driver. These were days of coal-powered engines, and it was a brave head which stuck out of the window in view of the flying cinders and smoke. We tried to get some sleep. There were foot-warmers on the floor, about two feet long and a foot wide and a couple of inches high. They acted like metal water-bottles.’ David Paech, Class of 1945.

By the early 1950s some students were travelling by plane. The photo shows girl boarders
at the Port Lincoln aerodrome in 1953.

Gift and Visiting Day

Concordia’s annual Gift and Visiting Day was one of the highlights of the college year and a valuable source of extra support for various projects.
The idea was proposed by Pastor Elmore Leske, a former headmaster, and although it was endorsed by the College Board of Management, there was one interesting proviso. The board believed that it would ‘not be a good move to conduct stalls for that day. This is a very controversial matter in our circles and to engage in such an activity at the central College would set the standard for the whole church.’
The first Gift and Visiting Day was organised by both the Old Boys and the Old Girls Associations and held on 20^th September 1958. Events included football and basketball competitions, organised tours of the college and a concert. There was just one stall, for refreshments only.

In the following years there were further developments, with stalls offering plants, cakes, sweets and even a lucky dip. In 1968 there was a cabaret on the Saturday evening and a special church service on Sunday morning.  The art exhibition in 1969 featured work by prominent Adelaide artists, and a piece of sculpture, ‘Born to Destroy’ (see photo), was bought for the college and displayed in the office foyer.

Major projects which benefited from the money raised on Gift and Visiting Days were the canteen and its equipment (1960-1962), basketball/tennis courts (1965), the kitchen and dining room complex (1964), the library, the college bus service (1966) and the former chapel pipe organ (1968-70).

The Croc

Many old collegians will remember the ‘croc’. This was the two-by-two procession (resembling a crocodile) of the girl boarders as they made their way between the hostel in Wattle St and Concordia. Since the college dining room was not large enough to accommodate all students, the girls walked back to the hostel for lunch before returning for afternoon classes.   At the end of the school day they made the final trip back to the hostel. The walk between the College and the hostel took around 10-12 minutes at a steady pace, and by the end of each school day the girls had covered 4 km by foot.

A boy student from the 1940s provides a personal perspective on the ‘croc.’ He remembers how the girls ‘came up the long pathway under the huge cedar trees. The senior students sat in their upstairs study windows….. and the girls displayed a casual nonchalance, knowing full well they were being watched. There is no doubt that college life was brightened considerably by the presence of girls.’

Although these walks may have helped them keep fit, the experience was not always pleasurable. A girl student from 1955 wrote that the ‘croc’ consisted of ‘seventy or eighty human automatons ….slowly but surely flattening the path between the hostel and the College three times a day. The way is hot and dusty in summer, wet and muddy in winter… In summer our shoes are brown with dust, in winter they are brown with mud, so really there is no sense in wearing black shoes. It is the unanimous opinion of the girls that the path should be bituminized.’

In 1958 another student wrote that it was ‘quite entertaining to see just how many cars and buses we can hold up whilst crossing the road, or seeing just how long we can manage to walk in ‘three’ before the prefects send the odd one to the back of the line.’

Playing Dirty

When the College introduced hockey for girls in 1960, the sport quickly grew in popularity.
Even though most of the players were raw novices, by 1974 there were four teams of girls competing with great enthusiasm.
Brown and Gold magazines for these years contain graphic reports. Hockey was described as a ‘game for the survival of the fittest’, but ‘worth the sore ankles, bluish-black bruised legs and muddy clothes that result from a hard-fought match …. ‘Hockey one, hockey two’ comes the cry from the girls playing hockey or more likely a cry of pain as someone is swiped by a stick on the ankle!’  (1968)

‘Once again this year, as winter arrived, the oval was filled with sticks and legs and little white balls. It was none other than the A hockey team, braving the wind, the rain and the mud. Success was not a key word in the A matches, and although we did not win a match, we were able to hold our opponents’ scores low. Miss Miller’s experienced coaching was much appreciated; so also was the umpiring of Paul Fielke.’ (1970)

Heat Wave Chronicle

During February and March 1940 a severe heat wave made daily life at Concordia close to unbearable, yet also very memorable. Comments in the Brown and Gold magazine record the experiences of students at a time when there was no air-conditioning and fans were considered an unnecessary luxury.

‘The Concordian divested himself of coat and tie and sought relief beneath the shadow of the old palm tree. Lying there he idly contemplated the possibility of being excused from work, and discussed with fellow students in distress the desirability of installing electric fans in all classrooms, studies and dormitories.  But he concludes that these are Utopian schemings. Dinner time brought with it a sight unprecedented in the history of Concordia – fifty students in the dining hall without a coat between them. The old rule regarding attire in the dining hall had been relaxed temporarily.’

On March 9^th, with a temperature of 110 degrees, cricket still went ahead. Teams and spectators drank six gallons of raspberry cordial. The following day compulsory study time was cancelled by order of the faculty. Permission was also granted for beds to be taken to the lawn or to the turf court so that boys could spend the night under the stars.
On Monday the tuck-shop broke all records with the sale of cool drinks and ice blocks; and by Tuesday those classrooms most affected by the heat were abandoned. Lessons took place on the lawns and cricket practice was replaced by a trip to the beach.

The photos show the outdoor sleeping arrangements.

Brown and Gold

Concordia’s first annual magazine appeared in 1924. The Brown and Gold was the work of the students, with practically everyone helping in one way or another. The 64 pages included photos of classes and teams, sports reports, poems, cartoons and photo collages. The jokes and riddles which make up the last nine pages are rather dated, and unlikely to appeal to today’s reader.

Interestingly enough, the cover illustration which features wattle entwining the college badge and logo, was drawn in less than an hour in Indian ink. This same cover was used each year until 1937.




The aims of the magazine were clearly stated in this first issue.
To present to you some inside glimpses of life at Concordia
To have you understand Concordia better, and to make you love her more
To provide a little healthful entertainment
To make members of Synod certain that we appreciate all that is done on our behalf
To give past students an opportunity to keep in touch with their Alma Mater.

The last Brown and Gold was the 2000 edition. The following year the annual school magazine was renamed Concordia College Review.

Autograph Albums

During the first half of the 20th century, many Concordia students regarded their autograph albums as prized possessions.
They asked friends, family and teachers to contribute pieces of verse, personal messages and drawings. In many cases a great deal of time and talent was poured into a single page entry. Contributions varied from the serious to the flippant, from the sentimental to the witty, and the albums were paged through and admired by many others. Until about 30 years ago many young people, particularly girls, owned an autograph album.
Our Heritage Centre has several complete examples.

Food Matters

In January 1926, the secretary of the College Board, the Rev J. G. Georg, appealed to members of the Lutheran Church to continue supplying gifts in kind to Concordia’s kitchen. The following requirements were listed as necessary to cater for the 62 boarders, all boys and young men.

90 tins (4 gallons) of jam, 14 tins of honey, 4 ¼ tons of potatoes, 44 pounds of butter per week, 200 pounds of meat per week, 200 pounds of flour, one 70-pound bag of sugar per week, 400 tins of preserved fruit (for serving once a week) and 40 tons of firewood.

This list did not include the required amount of fresh bread, vegetables and other necessary items. There was also a gentle reminder that gifts of tins of jam supplied in drums should not include any leftover kerosene!

The 1928 Brown and Gold magazine included a heartfelt tribute to the kitchen staff.
‘One of the most important organizations to be found at Concordia is the kitchen staff. This body daily carries out the big task of providing for the inner needs of vigorous healthy appetites.’ A decade or so later, during World War II, food coupons were introduced. The result was that not everyone was happy with the quality and quantity of the meals served.
In 1943 a student reported that:
‘Sometimes we seem to get much delight from comparing a piece of tough meat (the sheep’s fault!) to camel-hide or horse-saddle, but generally this topic is concluded by expressions of satisfaction that we are not in Britain where food coupons are exhausted all too soon. We know the kitchen staff will do their best to keep us marching, for we believe: We can live without friends, we can live without books,
But civilized man cannot live without cooks!’

The photo shows the 1924 domestic staff.

A Remarkable Woman

When Mrs Agnes Dorsch retired from Concordia in 1943 at the age of 70, her fine personal qualities and unstinting service were highlighted in an article in the Brown and Gold the following year.

‘She was ever a model example of piety, humility, generosity and devotion to duty. Her faithful and energetic teaching, her sympathetic interest in the welfare of her pupils, her quiet persistence and patience, her friendly encouragements, her unassuming and kind disposition, have won for her the honour, respect and sincere friendship of all who have studied under her.’

Agnes Dorsch was the second woman to graduate in arts from the University of Adelaide in 1891. With a first class honours degree in both classics and mathematics, her academic background was outstanding.  During 1923 to 1925, and then from 1927 to 1943, she taught both secondary and seminary students in subjects ranging from English, German, Latin, Greek and French to Physiology and Mathematics.

It seems that her personal life placed unusual pressures on Mrs Dorsch. Her family was far from pleased when she married Caspar Dorsch in 1893. He was a widower with three children, 13 years older than Agnes, and the pastor of Bethlehem Lutheran Church, Flinders St.  His narrow mindset  and his belief that dancing, picture theatres and card games were signs of the devil, cast a heavy shadow over the household.

During 1898 Pastor Dorsch suffered a breakdown and was granted leave to visit his relatives in America. He left Agnes behind with three step children and three of her own to care for, so she returned to teaching to support the family. This was something her husband did not particularly like, but clearly had to accept. When he returned two years later, Pastor Dorsch remained a semi-invalid and was forced to retire from his parish.  Five more children were born and Mrs Dorsch worked to support them as well. She often gave private tuition until 9 or 10 in the evening.

Although at the end of 1941, she had reached the age of ‘honorable retirement’ she willingly agreed to the Board’s urgent request to continue her work.  After her retirement, she continued coaching at home, even after she suffered a stroke at the age of 74. She died in 1958 at the age of 87.

War Casualty

The names of thirteen Concordia old collegians who served in the Vietnam War appear on the honour board in the Suaviter, previously the chapel. Errol Noack, a Concordia student in 1960 was the only casualty among them. Because he was also the first Australian soldier killed in the Vietnam War, he achieved instant fame on the front page of all Australian newspapers on 25^th May, 1966. Yet the true circumstances surrounding his death remain somewhat unclear.

Noack was among the first intake of national servicemen enlisted by ballot on June 30^th, 1965.After celebrating his 21st birthday with his family in Adelaide on May 8^th, 1966, he left for South Vietnam. A member of No.5 Platoon, 'B' Company, Noack flew in by helicopter on the morning of May 24^th. The weather was hot and the soldiers struggled to push through the dense scrub in single file. Late that afternoon, 'B' Company set up camp for the night. With 'A' Company operating close by, a forward listening post was set up to warn if anyone approached. Members of No.5 Platoon, including Noack, were chosen for this duty.
As they moved through the scrub, they came under sudden fire. Everyone immediately, went to ground and returned fire. During a pause, Noack moved to another position and was hit in the side by a bullet from a sub-machine gun. He died in a helicopter on the way to hospital at Vung Tau.
The first reports attributed his death to friendly fire, as it was quite apparent that 'A' Company and 'B' Company were shooting at each other.
Yet on May 25^th official reports stated that Noack had been killed by enemy gunfire. Nevertheless, the men of 'A' and 'B' companies remained firmly convinced that he had perished as a result of a tragic error.
Noack became a symbol of the small but growing anti-Vietnam War movement in Australia. On June 1^st a crowd of around 2000 gathered for his military funeral at Bethlehem Lutheran Church in Flinders St., Adelaide. He was buried in the Garden of Remembrance, Centennial Park Cemetery.

 

Concordia Rocks

At 3.40 am on March 1^st 1954 Adelaide experienced a 5.5 magnitude earthquake.

The strong shaking woke most residents, cracked walls and loosened plaster from many buildings.

In the Brown and Gold of that year a boy boarder described what he heard and felt.

‘When the earthquake was on I awoke and heard a roaring noise like the wind. I pulled the blankets over my head because the plaster was falling on me. When it was over I asked the boys what had happened. They said it was an earthquake.’

Along with many houses in Adelaide, Concordia buildings did not go unscathed.

During the May holidays Mr Harms repaired four of the bedrooms which had been damaged. This cost was estimated at 1000 pounds, with much more repair work to be done.
The total damage bill for Adelaide was $70 million.

 

Hail, Concordia!

On August 23^rd 1991, an exceptionally heavy hailstorm transformed the College campus into a ‘winter wonderland’!

Earlier in that same year, on 22^nd January, hail did not lead to the same delight and fun. One of the most damaging storms to strike Adelaide crossed the city about 7pm. Hailstones reached 10cm in diameter, and the damage bill was estimated at $25 million. Nearly half the damage claims were for motor vehicles, but the hail also broke roof tiles and windows, causing water damage in many houses.

Prefects

‘A state of chaos naturally exists where law and order do not prevail. To prevent disorder from gaining the upper hand, a number of students are appointed by the Director as prefects.’ Brown and Gold, 1931.

Class prefects at this time were responsible for behaviour during the absence of the teacher and for keeping the keep roll book. Each study and bedroom had a prefect to ensure that everything remained clean and neat, and prefects had the automatic right to the best bed in the room, usually by a window. The head prefect who rang the bells and locked up was often regarded by the younger boys as a tyrant.

By 1950, besides being responsible for the maintenance of good order and proper behaviour, prefects were expected to take an interest in the personal welfare of their fellow students and foster the College spirit. They were to set a good example and had the power to administer punishment for minor offences. In 1962 prefect Brian Schwarz wrote that ‘naturally it is not all smooth running. Occasionally some-one boldly challenges the authority of a prefect and there may be a row followed by an imposition or a job.’

By 1969 the prefect system began to place more emphasis on these office-holders as representatives of the student body. The photo shows the 1970 prefects.

Gender Rules

In 1924 there were only 29 students at the College, all of them boys and young men.
Rules and regulations were made very clear and strictly enforced. But with the influx of girls in 1927 it became necessary to spell out yet another rule for the boys to observe.

‘Correspondence with girls other than sisters is not allowed. The association with girls is permitted only in family circles or in public gatherings which have been approved of by the Faculty.’
Agnes Nagaorcka from the class of 1927 remembers that it was forbidden to talk to the boys both in class and at recess time, and that meeting in the street by arrangement was a very serious offence. Yet, she continues, ‘we still found ways of communicating with the boy we liked or who showed that he liked us by frequent looks and smiles… My diaries from 1929 and 1930 have frequent references to thrills received from being noticed in a special way by some boy I liked at the time.’

By the 1950s the attitude had relaxed just a little.
‘Since the College is a co-educational school, boys and girls associate with one another on many occasions. Normal association between boys and girls at the College is not discouraged; but excessive association with one particular person of the other sex is forbidden. Meetings outside of the College, except at approved gatherings, are not permitted.’
Note: The photo from 1927 shows Concordia's first girls in Sunday dress.

A Colourful Game

Concordia’s 1907 footballers stepped out in brown long-sleeved turtle-neck skivvies teamed with knickerbockers and long socks.
Some years later, however, the adoption of a distinctive jersey created some unforeseen ripples. In 1916 the headmaster of Queen’s School, North Adelaide (1890-1946) vented his extreme annoyance in a letter to Concordia’s headmaster Dr C. F. Graebner. He complained that Concordia had decided on ‘chocolate and gold’, the very colours he believed had been registered for his own school’s football team. Even worse, he discovered that Concordia had gone as far as ordering a supply of the same jerseys he had designed, and that they had even instructed the supplier not to sell them to anyone else!
His letter concludes: ‘I must beg to protest strongly against your infringement of the colours which we have worn for 26 years and especially of the conduct of your football club in an attempt to deprive us of our own colours and design.’
While there is no record of a response to this letter, Concordia continued to retain the colours of brown and gold. However, there were some further developments.  In 1920 footballers were wearing long loose white shorts and jerseys with pockets displaying a small gold cross; and by 1923 the jersey displayed a large gold monogram of two Cs linked together in a shape intended to resemble a cross. This was heralded as a marked improvement, and a special hand-coloured photo  of the First XVIII was produced.

Kicking up their Heels

In the late 1930s Miss Baker, the gymnasium instructor, undertook to teach the girls folk dances. Yet when it came to performance time the results were quite unpredictable.
For the Dutch dance at the 1938 concert the girls appeared in colourful green, blue and red costumes. The lighthearted report in the Brown and Gold magazine for 1939 has this to say:
 ‘As you know, Dutch girls are anything but graceful. Could this have been the reason why the steps suited us particularly well?’
But the audience loved the hornpipe at the 1939 break-up concert.  The costumes were sewn by the matron, Miss Oster, and the performance was hitch-free.

By 1940 there were 27 girl boarders. The usual initiation concert was held near the start of the year, with all new students expected to perform in some way. Yet several were so overcome with shyness that they refused to budge from their seats, even though they were threatened with a ‘ducking’! However, performances were called for, especially for the farewell concert in the Australia Hall. A gipsy dance was chosen for this end of year occasion, and once again the girls were brutally honest in their evaluation.
 ‘The costumes were bright and pretty, the music was attractive… but the dance steps were anything but accurate! Towards the end of the number our’ delighted’ audience could see nothing but a mass of brightly-dressed girls vainly trying to restore some order before the curtain fell.’ (Brown and Gold, 1941).

The Value of Sport

Over the long history of Concordia, sport has played an important role in the lives of students. Particularly during the early years of the College, boys lived, worked, studied and played together, almost as one big family. Games were always a highlight.
An article in the first issue of the Brown and Gold magazine in 1924 reminds readers of the importance of maintaining a balance between study and sport.

‘Who would deny a game of cricket or tennis or football to a young student whose head is ‘swimming’ after the long hours of mental toil, and whose face is pale and serious, when it is known that the fun and movement of the game will bring back colour to his cheek, smiles and laughter to his countenance, and brightness to his eye. The games are grand; they serve a most useful purpose at our College.’
‘But’, he continues, ‘there are boys who positively do not like sport. This is very remarkable. But it is no use quarrelling with people’s temperaments. There are some strange souls among us.’

The article concludes by pointing out that ‘sports are a danger if indulged in too much. Their very attractiveness, which makes them so useful as a tonic for a student’s mind, has drawn many a promising youth from his path of duty and made of him a worthless sports fiend.’

The 1905 tennis team is one of the oldest sports photos in the Heritage Centre archives.