IF IT were not for its eye-catching lolly pink exterior and matching burgundy roof, the Cathcart War Memorial Hall might go unnoticed by travellers to the historic grazing and timber town, nestled high on the NSW south-coast escarpment.
That failure would be a lost opportunity to experience one of the enduring but increasingly challenged notions of Australian bush life – the strength and power of shared community.
In contrast to many similar bush community halls, left stranded and forlornly awaiting patronage by rapidly changing rural demographics and a diminishing sense of common purpose, the Cathcart Hall stands as a monument to the pride and resilience of a community determined to not let the chill winds of change destroy one of the last legacies of its pioneering forebears.
For current generations, the hall is the town’s heart and focal point for a vibrant social calendar that includes weddings, wakes, birthday parties, balls, variety shows and much more. It also regularly hosts major district events, attracting visitors from across the county, providing the local community with the necessary funds to continually maintain and develop it’s most precious asset.
“It would be a very lonely, dark old town without the hall. I would hate to see Cathcart without it,” said committee president, Ryan “Fred” Simpson.
“The hall is the main focus of the community,” adds committee secretary for the past 20 years, Jennie Moreing.
“If we didn’t have the hall, people would go their own way and travel to surrounding towns.
“We would have no reason to get together,” Mrs Moreing said.
With her husband John, a local farmer and descendant of one of the earliest pioneer families, and son Scott, Jenni exudes pride and satisfaction in the achievements of her community as she explained its history and future plans to this writer.
Fred takes time out from his job as a timber feller to share his story, from a local kid helping out at working bees and social events to his recent elevation to the respected position of president at the relatively young age of 31.
Fred humbly rejects the idea that the position carries any status but accepts that “it is an honour to be nominated” by his more senior fellow citizens.
“Someone has to take it on and because I really love and enjoy the hall and all the things we do, I’m very happy to take my turn,” he said. Unlike some rural communities, where just a few volunteers seem to always carry the load, there is no hint of resentment or martyrdom among these willing workers, only a clear sense of purpose and achievement.
With a roughly estimated population of 60-70, including numerous farmers on smaller blocks surrounding the village, the committee happily reports a tally of 25 to 30 workers at regular working bees.
“Pretty much everyone in the town gets involved,” Fred said.
“Even the little kids (including his own) help out by setting tables and taking a turn at washing up.
“They are learning about their community responsibilities from early on.”
The conversation regularly references past stalwarts of community endeavours, often in near reverential tones, who toiled away to secure the fabric of the village as it progressively lost services and businesses to a declining population and the harsh reality of economic rationalism.
Their framed faces take pride of place inside the hall, beside historical photographs of early footballers, bullock teams and more contemporary depictions of horse and bicycle rides and family fun days.
Once served by three hotels, a school, post office, a police station, two blacksmith shops and numerous small retail businesses, Cathcart now hangs on to just one general store.
For everything else, it relies entirely on the hall and the plethora of activities generated by its determined and resilient citizens.
While future activities and hall development plans underpin a strong purpose for the Cathcart community, its roots in Australia’s pioneering history and the related tales of struggle, triumph and heroic persistence, provide on-going inspiration.
First settled in the 1820s and surveyed in 1857, Cathcart served as a final staging post for teamsters carting wool and produce from the Monaro before descending Big Jack Mountain on their way to Two Fold Bay at Eden. It was crucial to the development of the southeast grazing districts of Cooma, Bombala and Delegate and to the general trade links opened up by South Coast shipping routes.
Sitting at about 800 metres above sea level on well-watered, productive grazing land, the area attracted squatters, settlers and tradesmen keen to carve a niche in a land that both challenged and inspired men and women of ambition. In the early 20th century it became a major regional dairy hub and remains a source of timber for surrounding mills, although native hardwood has been largely replaced by plantation pine.
The strongly held association to that rich history by scores of local families is recorded in a spectacular rock wall outside the hall.
Atop the metre-high wall are around upwards of 40 plaques telling the story of a particular pioneering family.
John Moreing proudly points to the story of his own forebears as he explains how the wall was funded by each family buying a space and providing the plaque.
“The history used to be just inside the hall but, unless it was open, no-one could see it so we decided to make it a permanent record and available for all to see,” he said proudly.
- Ted O’Kane works for the Primary Industries Department’s rural resilience program. The program regards resilience as a “process” rather than an outcome or personality trait and acknowledges that levels of resilience among farmers and their families can be impacted by adverse events. The team works proactively in partnership with farming communities across NSW to help better people’s lives.
