“We all know the stories of the cedar cutters in our shire, the dairy farms, the meatworks in Byron Bay, and the mining of the beaches. I wanted to tell the story of what happened after these industries finished, and what took their place,” says Tricia.

“In the mid to late ’70s the music scene in Australia exploded,” she writes. “The stultifying conservative 1950s gave way to the swinging sixties and opened the door for Australian music in the 1970s and ’80s. It was the most influential time in Australian music. A wave of bands formed, touring by road the east coast of Australia from Melbourne to Sydney to Brisbane. Many of them stopped in at Byron Bay, Bangalow and Lismore, including the most notable Australian bands of that era.”

Music had been happening for decades before the first annual Byron Bay Bluesfest in 1990. It erupted as outdoor music festivals on various rundown dairy farms like Fowlers Lane, in the Norco Piggery (recycled as the Arts Factory), at Music Farm Studio, and at other key venues like the Bangalow Bowlo.

“Musicland is the follow-on to Neverland,” Tricia explains. “Neverland finished with the story of American surfer-musician, Dan Doeppel, who came to Australia in 1967 in a band called The Nutwood Rug. Dan came to Byron Bay and bought the old Norco Piggery in 1974, with the dream to turn it into the Arts Factory.”

In 1976, Melbourne musician Garry Deutsher created Music Farm Studio on an old dairy farm in Coorabell. Tricia and her partner, surfing legend Rusty Miller, lived next door to the studio for 33 years. “All the big names came here to Byron in the 1970s and 1980s: Midnight Oil, Cold Chisel, The Angels, Australian Crawl, Mental as Anything, Redgum, Goanna, Richard Clapton, Mondo Rock, Divinyls, Split Enz, Rose Tattoo, Kevin Borich, Eurogliders – and so many more.” These bands either recorded at the Music Farm and/or played at the Arts Factory.

From the 1980s, many other musicians also recorded at Music Farm, including Olivia Newton-John, Yothu Yindi, Mental as Anything and Jimmy Barnes (in Cold Chisel). Next month, Music Farm will have been operating as a working music studio for 50 years. “This is an amazing testament to all the people who were involved in building the studio, and the musicians who have recorded there. I wanted to acknowledge this, and pay homage to it,” says Tricia.

“Because I know many of the people involved in the making of the Arts Factory and Music Farm, I had access to their stories. However, for big, known bands that recorded at Music Farm, I relied on many musicians to share other musicians’ contacts. Rob Hirst, from Midnight Oil, was the first of 80 interviews for this book. Rob, who very sadly died recently, was most generous in assisting me with the phone numbers or emails of his musician friends. This opened doors for me. I am so appreciative of his generosity of spirit towards my book.”

Venues could be “make do”. Between 1976 and 1982, concerts were held on the 113-acre Fowlers Lane former dairy property of Harry Fowler. Many were organised by music promoter Roger Danne, sometimes with his business partner Denni Scott. Well-known Australian music promoter Michael Chugg, who knew Roger Danne in Sydney, was also involved.

In her book, Tricia quotes Roger Danne: “I was living at Music Farm Studios, and Chugg was the promoter from Sydney who would bring the bands. I did Fowlers Lane with him for two years. Split Enz played at Fowlers Lane. They were fantastic. They played on the back of a semi-trailer with no roof. It was a full moon, and when Tim Finn sang: ‘I hope I never, I hope I never have to cry again’, it was unbelievable. It was one of those moments – one of the best, ever.” In April,  Split Enz was due to perform at the now cancelled Bluesfest.

“There are glimmers that I remember about the Split Enz concert at Music Farm in 1979,” recollects Mark Pope, who promoted that event. “There are two things I remember about the concert. I remember speaking to Garry Deutsher about it and the table-top semi-trailer that was the stage that they played on. I don’t know how we rigged the lights because there was no stage or roof. I think we might have had close to 1500 or 2000 people. Tickets were around $5 a head.

There was no security. We made it up as we went along. I was staying in a caravan near where the stage was set up. I woke up the next morning after the concert. I had my thongs on, stepped out of the caravan, took two steps, and literally between my toes was a freshly made cow turd. I still remember to this day, this warm shit coming up between my toes.” Later, Mark Pope promoted INXS and Cold Chisel.

Roger Danne recalled a night when Cold Chisel played at the Bangalow Bowlo, which holds around 300 people. “The night Cold Chisel played there were 500 people. The place was packed; people were outside who couldn’t get in. Someone picked up a chair and smashed the glass window in the foyer. We had to stop the show. Jimmy Barnes came down and said, ‘Wake up to yourself!’ He sang acapella through the broken window for the people who couldn’t get in to see the show.”

Tricia also quotes INXS guitarist Tim Farriss, who recalls playing at the Bowlo in September 1980. “That would have been when we first became INXS, having only just changed our name from the Farriss Brothers. It would have been the first time we played the North Coast. It was a really great crowd and audience.”

Musician Barry Ferrier continues the recollections. “Innerspring was a five-piece band with two road crews when it included Michael Barnes. We were working solidly five nights a week. We supported Cold Chisel, who were the last gig at the Bowlo. Jimmy went out on the green and the girls followed him. It wasn’t just the greens, it was the door also. People were having sex under the pool table. It was a wild gig. It was packed.”

Tricia moved to the area in the early 1980s. Among her many other endeavours – ranging from social planning work, researching for a town planning company, 15 years in local government and 21 years teaching social science at Southern Cross University – she worked for a year researching and interviewing people on the history, development and activism on the Byron Shire coastline. “Again, it’s documenting the history of our place, and the people who have been cultural shapeshifters. We live in an area with such rich contemporary history that is not really documented. I feel compelled to explain how and why Byron Shire is what it is today: what, and who made it this way.”

Musicland: When the Music Came to Byron 1974 to 1995 will be launched in Byron Bay in August. Email triciashantz11@gmail.com to pre-order.

Feature image: New Zealand’s Mi-Sex playing at Fowlers Lane in the 70s

The evolution of Pearces Creek Hall into a “must play” venue in recent years is an extraordinary development, a resurrection largely due to the efforts of local resident Simon Winfield. The softly-spokenEnglishman doesn’t stand out as someone who has resolved to “go harder” in life – but that is exactly what he has chosen to do: dedicate himself to turning the tiny heritage hall into a vibrant, and sustainable, cultural hub.

Since 2019, Simon has raised funds, booked performers, MC’d shows and, as café loungers in Bangalow’s high street can testify, posted concert fliers wherever there’s a space.

He’s a ball of calm, can-do energy, committed not only to the hall but also to its natural and social environment. The hall’s presentations come mainly in the form of roots music – folk, country, bluegrass – but it is also building a solid track record as a centre for the dissemination of progressive ideas, everything from regen agriculture to the use of sound as a tool for healing.

An increasing awareness about health and longevity helped to concentrate Simon’s mind further, he says, “because you realise you don’t know what your life expectancy is, right? I’m not saying that negatively; it’s just a reminder that you’re not going to live forever, and a stimulus to live more fully.”

Born in England, Simon lived in Africa and Europe for his first 14 years, then went to boarding school in Britain, followed by a career in finance in London and New York. When he and his wife, Jen, and their three young children travelled the world in 2003 they came across Byron Shire. The memory stayed with them and four years later they came back.

They rented homes in Bexhill, then Clunes and Bangalow before settling in Pearces Creek. The children attended Bangalow PS and Byron High, and both parents got involved – “the usual things, like the P&C, the school canteen stuff,” Simon says.

“What I loved about the schools in this area was that you could get involved; it’s encouraged, and it’s part of your contribution, and a great way to meet people. The volunteer aspect of this country is incredible in whatever form it might take, whether you’re looking after Heritage House or, you know, working on the local paper.”

Volunteering seems part of his DNA: he has also signed up to help at the Writers Festival for the past eight years.

Their Pearces Creek home sits on 30 acres and as the “the house and child person” with a wife busy with full-time studies, Simon was keen to learn about how to best manage the land. “I hadn’t a clue about anything,” he says, so he set about finding out, at numerous field days, agricultural studies at SCU and Wollongbar TAFE and an “absolutely fascinating” trip to (Natural Sequence Farming movement founder) Peter Andrews’ place near Canberra.

Simon credits his commitment to reviving the hall to his interest in land management. He understood that as someone who was “basically an immigrant who’s worked in an office for 25 years” – he couldn’t lean over the fence and say to the third or fifth generation farmer ‘have you thought about doing it this way?’

“So we invited Brian Wehlberg, the holistic management and regenerative ag educator, to the hall to do a talk, and it was very well attended.” Since then, they have hosted 16 talks, with artists, foragers, farmers, nearly all of them connected with the land and environment, attended by about 1000 people altogether.

While his hopes of creating a viable alternative farm have not been realised (“because I haven’t put in the physical labour”) their property has seen a huge increase in biodiversity, and the hall has similarly thrived.

By 2019, the hall was in decline: there was no money in the kitty and the committee was looking for new people and new ideas. Simon felt the community needed a hall and had an obligation to make it viable.

They ran a raffle and raised $3000, applied for government grants, held craft markets and, when a speaker dropped out, invited Immortal Soils’ Bob Horan and Selena Murray to stage one of their large-scale botanical art installations, which opened up the possibilities for the space.

Musical events followed, and the confidence felt by the team of enthusiastic volunteers to stage such acts grew – as did the hall’s reputation among performers as a terrific venue. Musicians, it seems, love to play there: it’s intimate, a haven apart from the busy world. “They also love being welcomed; and so does the audience. They love the food, and having a cup of tea and a piece of homemade cake.”

Above all, it’s a true listening space, where the music is the focus, and the audiences are attentive, appreciative. World-class bluegrass band Midnight Chicken declined the offer of moving the benches out for the second half, so people could dance. “They go, ‘no, we don’t want dancing. We want listening audiences’.”

The hall best suits acoustic acts, with complex harmonies and a close connection with the audience: “We ask all our musicians to play at least one song with no electronic sound, and ideally down off the stage,” Simon says.

At the first gig in 2026, bluegrass quartet Charley Castle and the Boys in the Well did just that, closing their show with a four-part a cappella rendition of Goodnight Irene that had some in the audience reaching for their hankies.

Local musicians are encouraged too. Hootenanny Highway, Will Hearn and Tara-Lee Byrne have recently used the hall for rehearsals, recording and performances.

Honey and Silk play on the first Saturday of this month, and another country duo, Wicker Suite, appear the following weekend – part of a tour in which they’re just playing country halls. Interspersed with the music there is a launch of Ian Kirkland’s book Booyong and Pearces Creek District – Part of the Big Scrub and cellist and sonic alchemist Tara-Lee is returning with her CELLOFINITY – a cello sound bath, where participants lie on the floor to soak up the chakra-healing reverberation of the music.

To an audience member, it feels as if the hall’s growing success is not only due to Simon’s enthusiasm as a promoter but also to his passion for such concepts, and for this kind of music.

“There is a selfish side to it,” he admits. “The musicians I book are a reflection of my tastes. But I don’t want it to be just my taste. And the same with the talks. I want to have a product that people can take somewhere else or use. There’s no point in me doing it if it can’t … if it doesn’t have a life after me.”

While the formal listing process still has steps to complete, the motion marks an important public acknowledgment: the Bowlo is more than a building. It is a place of continuity and community.

For decades, the club has functioned as Bangalow’s common ground – a multi-purpose civic space where sport, celebration, music and everyday connection intersect. It is one of the few venues in town where a pensioner, a young family, a sporting committee and a touring musician could share the same floor.

The Heritage Assessment identified the building’s distinctive exposed metal ceiling trusses that define the main hall space as structural features that are characteristic of bowling club architecture from the era. Comparable trusses at Willoughby Bowling Club in Sydney, built in the same period, have already been heritage listed – demonstrating that such elements are recognised as architecturally and socially significant within NSW club heritage.

But heritage, in this case, extends beyond the walls.

The bowling greens facing Byron Street herald your arrival in Bangalow. They mark a physical threshold – from highway to village – but also signal something about identity and place. The greens speak of participation, sport and shared space.

“I believe the Bangalow Bowlers who originally selected and bought this land then constructed the clubhouse on which it sits alongside its picturesque lawn bowling green, would be thrilled that their efforts will possibly be enshrined in a heritage listing which would help to ensure the whole community get to enjoy the space – and the game they love – into the future,” says Shane Mahony, current Bangalow bowler and former greenkeeper.

Council’s unanimous vote does not immediately place the Bowlo on the Local Environmental Plan’s Schedule of Heritage Items. What it does is endorse the assessment and signal that the formal listing process will proceed. That process typically involves preparation of a planning proposal, a Gateway determination from the Department of Planning, public exhibition and, ultimately, gazettal.

When listed, demolition would be highly constrained, major external alterations would require heritage impact assessment, and any future development would need to respect the site’s recognised significance.

For many in the community, this news will be met with a collective sigh of relief.

The January 2026 community survey conducted by the Save Bangalow Bowlo Steering Committee found strong alignment on one core objective – that the Bowlo should return to genuine community ownership and control. The survey also confirmed that the club is valued as a social asset, not just a property, with respondents repeatedly referencing loss of access, routine and connection if the venue’s character were compromised.

Those themes surfaced again in council debate: heritage recognition is not about nostalgia. It is about continuity of use.

The Bowlo has hosted sporting competitions, local club meetings, fundraisers, weddings, wakes, live music and daily social rituals. It has provides an accessible venue in a village with limited multi-purpose, multi-generational spaces.

Heritage recognition in this context does not freeze the building in time. It regulates demolition and unsympathetic alteration, while still allowing ongoing operation, upgrades and maintenance.

Heritage listing, in effect, strengthens the likelihood that this site remains a sports and leisure venue into the future. It does not mandate bowls forever, nor does it prevent operational evolution required to keep the venue relevant and viable. But it makes large-scale redevelopment for any other purpose significantly more difficult, and strengthens the case for the site’s continued use as community infrastructure.

Of course, heritage status also carries responsibility. A listed building must be maintained appropriately. Works require careful documentation. Future operators – whether community-led or through amalgamation – would need to balance preservation with viability.

To the casual observer, the Bowlo’s greens, hall and modest façade may not shout architectural grandeur – although architect F.J. Board was described in the Northern Star as “possibly Lismore’s greatest architect”.

The significance of this site, inside and out, lies in the accumulation of social life and participation over decades.

Heritage protection recognises the importance of proactively safeguarding such spaces.

The next steps now lie in the formal planning pathway, including public exhibition. For now, however, Council’s decision on Thursday 19 February 2026, signals something clear: Bangalow’s bowling club is being recognised not just as a building, but a significant shared ‘third place’ space and a community asset worth protecting.

Sally Schofield

The Wiyabal people of the Bundjalung nation are said to be the original inhabitants of Coorabell, located on the tip of the ridge rising 156m above sea level. Some say the word ‘Coorabell’ means ‘many hoop pines’, but it’s more likely to mean ‘home of the winds’. Anywhere along the ridge, it’s rare to find a wind-free day.

Despite the incessant wind, the views from Coorabell Hall are spectacular. Early white settlers started arriving around here in the late 1800s, first to plunder the finest trees from the Big Scrub, like the valuable red cedar. Trees were dragged to the top of the ridge, stripped of their bark, and shoved down the slopes – known as the Shoots – from the ridge to waiting bullock trains below, which transported the logs to a wharf in Byron Bay. From there, they were shipped around the world.

Once the trees were out of the way, dairying was the next big thing. Just about every property along Coolamon Scenic Drive (originally Coorabell Road) in the 19th and 20th centuries was a 100-acre dairy – an industry which peaked in the 1930s.

By 1907, Coorabell had a general store, a blacksmith, a butcher, fruit shop, boarding house, church, school, and from 1906, a public hall set up as a School of Arts. As a centre for all community functions, the hall offered a chance for locals to meet neighbours and friends, for celebrations, weddings, dances, euchre tournaments and clearing sales – all helping to raise funds to keep the hall operating.

The hall’s first flower show was held in 1959, organised by the Ladies Auxiliary to raise funds towards lining and painting the hall’s interior. The annual flower show tradition has been revived by a modern-day version of the Ladies Auxiliary. Today, a diverse – and very active – handful of six volunteers keeps the lights on at the hall, keeping alive its origins as a community hub. The annual March Flower Show is still the hall’s highest profile event, held midway through the peak dahlia season, primarily to celebrate the amazing blooms of Bruce and Stephen Wedd from nearby Possum Creek.

Lissa Coote is the hall’s prime mover and shaker, inventively creating ways to keep useful and highly skilled background in the film industry, she prides herself on “making something out of nothing”. It helps to have a lawyer on board, and Adele Smout is her ‘right hand’ in creating countless activities for this very active community hub.

A glance at the hall’s September newsletter, put together by Lissa and Adele, lists everything from a live ‘Magical Evening of Cabaret Theatre’, to the fortnightly Sunday Crop Swap (useful to share your excess produce with other locals for free), and ongoing raffles. On the first Wednesday of the month, the Coorabell Film Club screens a classic movie, while the work of talented local artists is exhibited in the Artspace.

Regular weekly events include both a coffee cart – a big hit with passing tradies – and the Hilltop Café, selling toasties and juices from a kitchen with surely one of the best views in the district. Monday night is pizza night; the first Wednesday of the month there’s Thai food from 6–7.30pm; while on Friday nights it’s Fun Friday, with Kamal Singh’s Punjabi curry and games (such as Scrabble, ping pong, mahjong and foosball); and on Sundays, enjoy the Trusty Dumpling or El Polaco Latin fusion food depending on the week. Needless to say, the hall is available to rent for weddings or other celebrations.

The next major event is billed as an Epic Fundraiser on 25 October, with a sculpture show planned pre-Christmas.

The hall receives no federal, state or local council funding, so it’s up to the innovative team to find ways to cover its costs. Lissa meets with volunteers from other local halls – Newrybar, Marvell Street, Eureka, Federal and Ewingsdale – to share ideas on ways to keep the doors open. In Lissa’s view, obtaining a liquor licence has been a “huge step up” (and very popular on Fridays from 5–7.30pm). Lissa and the team found $65,000 to build a very popular outside deck, well used at every event, and she’s already dreaming of relocating the toilet block and creating a “proper” bar, once she works out how to raise the cash.

coorabellhall.net

565 Coolamon Scenic Drive, Coorabell

Historical information sourced – and gratefully acknowledged – from Coorabell School and District – the first 100 years, compiled by Ellenor Wadsworth, published by The Coorabell School Centenary Committee, June 1991.

Feature image the original Coorabell Hall All photos supplied by Lissa Coote

The School of Arts movement

The School of Arts movement in New South Wales, particularly in Sydney, played a transformative role in shaping adult education, community life and cultural development throughout the 19th and early 20th centuries.

Beginning in Scotland in the early 1800s, it was driven by Enlightenment ideals of scientific education, self-improvement and social reform. The aim was to educate artisans and mechanics in practical sciences, with the belief that this would uplift individuals and benefit society.

The School of Arts concept reached Sydney in 1831 via a group of Scottish tradesmen and educators. In 1833, the Sydney Mechanics School of Arts was established to spread scientific and useful knowledge through the new colony. Public lectures were held in School of Arts halls, alongside libraries and classes in science, art and political economy.

Over the next century, around 750 Schools of Arts or Mechanics Institutes were established across NSW, becoming hubs of community life, education and culture. Their legacy includes the establishment of public libraries, community centres and adult and technical education systems. The Sydney Mechanics School of Arts directly influenced the creation of institutions such as the University of Sydney and Sydney Technical College – which later became the University of Technology Sydney (UTS).

There’s more than one way to skin a cat, they say. In the past few months, Bangalow Heritage House Museum has started receiving requests from teachers for their students to explore the museum and neighbouring Piccabeen Park. What’s the story?

The Living School in Lismore wanted their teenagers to visit the museum “as part of a unit on civilisation”. A busload of 18 students – 14- and 15-year-old young learners – visited in August, keen to see how life was lived from the 1930s to 1950s. Of particular interest to them was the old classroom set-up with its ‘quaint’ wooden school desk, plus the textbooks of that era. The teenagers were also interested to find out how to get involved in their local community, and a visit to the CWA followed.

For Emmanuel Anglican College, Ballina, the incentive to bring along 45 seven- and eight-year-old kids (plus a few teachers and parents) is a program called Mini Coastal College. It forms part of an Integrated Studies course that includes science, history, geography, mathematics, English and visual arts.

Roxanne Kent, the leader of Foundational Learning at Emmanuel Anglican College, explained their interest. “Inspired by the Reggio Emilia educational approach and the Forest Schools of Scandinavia, the aim of our Mini Coastal College program is to introduce students to new, engaging, challenging and fun opportunities to learn, play and grow.

The program is delivered by highly skilled educators whose purpose is to equip and support students to investigate, explore, discover, apply, practise and master new concepts, skills and understandings, whilst also meeting the syllabus requirements in a natural outdoor environment.”

The “natural outdoor environment” Roxanne selected was Piccabeen Park and the Bangalow Museum. Though their school is located in Ballina, teacher Alyssa Marshall explained: “Many of our students also live in and around the Bangalow area, so it is part of their community. The motive was to deepen the students’ understanding of the town’s history, culture and environment while building a stronger connection to their local community. The exploration also encouraged curiosity, respect for the environment and a sense of responsibility in caring for the area, helping students appreciate both the past and the importance of protecting Bangalow’s future.”

But what did the kids themselves think about the experience? Leo said, “I love Coastal College because we get to go out into nature and experience lots of things.” For Max, it was “because you get to be out of school and in the sunshine.” For Rachael, “The thing I love most about Coastal College is that we got to learn about the park’s heritage and explore nature.” From the teachers’ perspective, “It was a valuable learning experience for all students. Outdoor learning allows children to explore, discover, and learn in hands-on ways,” added Mel McClelland.

Though the Emmanuel College students who visited were from Year 2 in a Coastal College program that runs over eight Thursdays during Term 3, their Year 3 students go to Seven Mile Beach and Lake Ainsworth in Ballina, while Year 4 students visit Ballina’s Lighthouse Beach. The program will happen again every year.

And what was the experience like for the Bangalow Historical Society? “When the students visited Heritage House, they discovered a wealth of new things which piqued their curiosity – so important for learning,” commented Historical Society Secretary and former teacher, Heather West. “Coming here also exposed them to a diversity of ideas and information about different people, places and time periods, all contributing to broadening their horizons of knowledge. Handling Aboriginal artefacts and understanding their use helped contribute to their appreciation and respect of our Indigenous culture.

“There’s no doubt about it, their visit was a win all round. Our volunteers loved it, the teachers enjoyed observing their students being engaged and communicating with others, and the kids left with a head full of new knowledge and an understanding about our collective past. There are huge benefits for kids of all ages getting out of the classroom and into an informal learning environment where they’re invited to explore and understand new concepts. The museum displays helped develop critical thinking skills and gave the kids an understanding of the past and how it compares with the present.”

To enquire about a school learning experience, call 02 6687 2183

It’s a story familiar to many regional towns across New South Wales, where historic pubs are increasingly being gutted, refitted and rebranded to match an urban aesthetic. Think grey walls, exposed bulbs and pale wood stools – venues that feel more slick than historic. Residents are rightly concerned that historic buildings may be lost beneath a shiny modern renovation. But recent work by Bangalow architect Duncan Sproul is proof that there is another way. Just an hour down the road, the Argyle Hotel in Maclean offers a masterclass in how to restore a heritage pub with care and integrity.

First settled by Europeans in the 1830s, Maclean is the traditional land of the Yaegl people. As with the Bangalow area, cedargetting and dairy were key industries at this time, alongside sugar, coffee, tobacco and more. A single-storey wooden pub – the first Argyle Hotel – was built in 1867. In 1887, work commenced on a new two-storey, 14-room hotel, made of stone with a concrete foundation, and seemingly no expense spared on the grand Late Victorian details. The Argyle Hotel opened in 1894.

Tooth & Co. operated the pub from the early 20th century until the 1970s, and the 1980s saw the first of several alterations aimed at increasing commercial space at the expense of heritage. Significant architectural features were obscured with paint and panelling, resulting in a façade that bore little resemblance to the building once described as “the best finished hotel north of Sydney.”

Fast-forward 40-odd years, and the historic pub was purchased and painstakingly brought back to life in collaboration with Duncan and his partner. The brief from Sally and Dhugal was clear: rather than gutting the space, they chose to celebrate its history.

“The original building had been desecrated in the 1970s by not having a heritage order on it – and basically, a beautiful old 1894 pub had been turned into a concrete block. It was ugly,” says Duncan. “Previous owners had filled in all the verandas and crammed in as many rooms as they could upstairs.”

But it wasn’t just an under-utilised eyesore. Built at a time when there was little regulation regarding safety in public buildings, the old hotel needed to be brought into the 21st century in terms of access, fire safety compliance, electrical and plumbing. “It wasn’t just a makeover – it was quite a big undertaking,” says Duncan.

Coincidentally, Duncan’s grandmother was born and raised in Maclean, so the old pub – known then as the Middle Pub and later as Cane Cutters – was a vague memory for him. Getting to work on the unlovely, criminally bland building revealed some remarkable charms. “We had a lot of historic photos to work from, but it’s pretty clear once you start peeling things back how it had all been laid out, and the craftsmanship,” says Duncan.

One of the pub’s most striking features is its honey-coloured chiselled sandstone blocks, which had been painted over in a previous ‘renovation’. Sodablasted back to their original state, they became the cornerstone of the restoration, with new blocks –sourced locally and used to re-instate a section of wall that had unfortunately been removed decades earlier – such a close match to the original that it’s possible they came from the same quarry. “Honestly, it’s hard to tell the difference – except that the new wall is just a bit cleaner, a bit straighter,” he laughs.

Upstairs, the grand wraparound verandas (boarded over in some previous incarnation) were carefully re-instated and are now the perfect place to relax and enjoy views of the town and glimpses of the nearby Clarence River.

Duncan describes the project as a balancing act – respecting the past while making space for the present. “The only real point of difference with the veranda was that we couldn’t reinstate the iron lacework – it just wasn’t financially feasible,” he says. Nor, would it have been compliant to current standards given the great height of the veranda. “But the approach to fine timber detailing was a very close match, and it really returned the building to its original beauty.”

These days, hospitality venues tend to focus on maximising floor space and gaming as a formula for success. We know the devastating impact problem gambling has on the community, so it’s refreshing to see a project that embraces a different approach.

“Sally and Dhugal actually reduced the floor space ratio, which is unusual in commercial developments,” says Duncan. “The locals were genuinely excited about the old pub being restored to its former glory. The buzz in town was incredible.”

The Argyle now boasts a popular dining spot serving restaurant quality meals alongside favourite pub classics with an emphasis on fresh produce and quality meats (including Barcoo Beef, Sally and Dhugal’s other venture). Upstairs comprises four boutique accommodation suites – thoughtfully styled and designed by Sally (an interior designer).

“The value of old buildings just can’t be underestimated. You see it happening now in Sydney with Chris Minns’ proposals to increase high density in what is ‘old Sydney’,” says Duncan, who worked with his partner on a major refurbishment of the Teachers Federation headquarters in the former 1920s Silk Knit House industrial building in Surry Hills.

“When you look at the Argyle, it really fits the context of the town. You don’t have to build a booze barn. When it’s full, it has a great vibe – it’s comfortable, it suits the town, and it just feels right.”

The result? A Hotel? that looks and feels like it belongs – not just to Maclean’s history, but to its community.

argylehotel.com.au

Feature image

The Argyle Hotel in Maclean, restored to its former glory Photo Adam Woodleigh

When we bought the property, Harry Fowler had been dead six years.

It seems he wasn’t any great shakes as a farmer, devoting so much of his time, enthusiasm and energy into countless worthy Bangalow community activities. Though he hadn’t kept the land looking like a workable farm, his niece and nephew, who inherited the property, spent a few years cleaning it up to make it presentable to market.

As a cattle grazing property – which is how it was marketed – it was too small for a single family to make a living from. But for our purposes, it was perfect.

It was generations since it had been a workable dairy. The land, though recently spritzed up – paddocks all slashed of weeds and the countless tonnes of rocks all gathered up and shovelled neatly out of the way and into the gulleys – looked as good as it could. But with streaks of erosion slicing through bare hillsides, to us, it seemed lifeless and unloved: it felt bleak.

Apart from the original Fowler family farmhouse, 11 additional houses have been built over the years. Our 12 houses stand on around two acres of land per lot – each private individual bubble hanging off the internal road – and together, we care and manage the other 90 communally-owned rural acres.

Inspired by the countless consultants’ reports we had commissioned, covering every possible aspect of life on a potential community, the minute we could, we set to, to transform the land. As well as creating all the infrastructure needed before houses could be built – 1.7km of internal paved road, underground power, fencing, and heaps more – we quickly leapt in, keen to bring our dry paddocks back to life.

Setting the scene for us was an ‘Environmental Enhancement and Management Plan’ (EEMP) that we had prepared by Firewheel Rainforest Services early on. It outlined how we could potentially transform the worn-out land through environmental repair, indicating where and what we could plant: species lists tailored to select the ideal plant for every nook and cranny, whether up on the high, windswept ‘Jindibah Heights’, where nine of our houses were built, or along the frost-prone creek flats.

Our first aim was to create a fertile, thriving environment into which we could build our houses. We created privacy for each one through appropriate native plantings; these also reduced the impact of new houses on neighbouring properties. We wanted to restore rainforest along the Sleepy Creek riparian corridor, and (dare I say) “beef up” the two acres of Big Scrub we found on the far side of the causeway over the creek. We also wanted to protect and enhance the habitat of any endangered or vulnerable threatened species on site.

With the property sectioned off – on maps, at first – into zones labelled ‘Rural Living’, ‘Habitat/Regeneration’ and ‘Agricultural’ – we got planting.

In the early days, there was a rough bush track round the property, requiring four-wheel drive. As soon as construction started on the internal road, we utilised the scraped-off topsoil to plant visual screenings along the roadside, giving each potential house a thick privacy screen. These trees are now 20 to 30m high. An agricultural buffer zone was planted along our eastern border, to prevent any spray drift coming onto our land from the neighbouring macadamia plantation to our east.

Over a decade or so, each year we would aim to plant another 1,000 rainforest trees, appropriate for the site – per our EEMP. Some years, we’d attempt to plant more, and organised working bees where as many people as possible living on the land, would join with our contractor to plant that year’s quota. Today it is immediately apparent how much life all our plantings – nearly 12,000 native trees – have restored to the land. And of course we found out that controlling environmental weeds is both imperative and an ongoing, costly challenge.

A big point of difference from any other communities being established at the time, was our wish to potentially farm parts of the land, or take up any emerging agricultural possibilities. Most of the other communities at the time focussed exclusively on rainforest regeneration. We wanted to retain the option to graze cattle or whatever horticultural pursuits might work well here: we didn’t want to preclude any possibility.

On each of our house lots, owners have landscaped and planted what suited them. Some have created flat areas for kids to play on, with room for veggie plots, swings and trampolines. For others, a stunning seaview from the terraced pool, with a few strategic easily-managed feature plants, has been what’s important. To me, it’s been creating a densely planted garden which supplies food: an orchard, bush tucker, flowers, fruit.

While this property could easily have ended up as an unprofitable farm running beef cattle (as often happens when city people relocate to the country and don’t know what to do with the land), we’ve found a way that 12 households can each care for their own lot, so each garden is loved and flourishing. The trees we’ve planted on the remaining common land have brought the rest of the land back to life, attracting lush flora and abundant fauna in the wildlife sanctuary it’s become, while providing shade for the agisted cattle and horses. The creek, now shaded by mature trees, attracts us to sit, or swim, or simply enjoy nature’s bounty.

At night, I hear possums, bandicoots or echidnas, shuffling about in the jungle outside my bedroom window. Driving home in the dusk, wallabies can be seen leaping across the fields, and snakes and reptiles of all kinds, lurk throughout. On the other side of the house facing east, looking towards the sea, I watch goshawks and huge eagles, floating on the thermals. Bands of raucous yellowtailed black cockatoos, screech across the skyline on summer evenings. When I open my curtains in the morning, there’s usually a few kookaburras checking out their potential breakfast, perched high up on the stalk of the giant Mauritius Hemp.

At ground level, as I walk through the orchard to feed the chooks, past my native bee hives, blue-tongue lizards, or tiny skinks freeze for a moment, then slink on about their lives. When the chooks have left grain, the roundeared bush rats arrive for the left-overs. A series of snakes, all named Monty Python, regularly check out the rat situation from the roof of the nesting boxes in my chicken coop, conveniently taking care of excess numbers. Other snakes have found their safe and happy place in the 300 metres of rock wall, built along a section of our internal road. Everyone’s happy.

It’s been an interesting 30-year transformation.

*This is an extract from a book Christobel is writing on the conversion of the former dairy farm into an intentional Community Title property.

Cricket was originally played at the show grounds, sharing the arena with the Hockey club and grazing cows. The cricket club would mow the infield around the wicket but the outfield was a mix of long grass and cow poo, not ideal for a game of cricket.

So by 1977 realising it was not fit for purpose, Shultzy, with the help of the Lions Club, called a public meeting in the RSL hall on Station Street and formed the Bangalow Sports Association.

The Holmes family owned a couple of paddocks behind the Bowlo. So Shultzy approached them about buying the paddocks in order to build a cricket field. So around the kitchen table over some tea and biscuits a deal was struck to purchase 12 acres for $40,000.

The Club secured a loan from the local bank manager, who was a cricket fan, and with the Lions Club guaranteeing the loan, the land was purchased.

Over the next year Shultzy, his wife Jan, her best friend Jan Hulbert and a cast of local identities held raffles, progressive dinners, debutante balls and even a couple of walkathons between Byron and Bangalow to raise money to pay back the loan.

Around this time Shultzy and a few mates got wind that the then Premier of NSW ‘Nifty’ Neville Wran was at a golf tournament in the Tweed Valley. So they jumped in their cars and headed up for an impromptu meeting. After a few beers and handshakes they left with a $24,000 grant!

With Shultzy being the local police sergeant, he had his ear to the ground and heard that Ballina council had some large earthmoving machinery arriving from Brisbane and managed to divert the drivers to Bangalow to practice on the machines before delivering them to Ballina. Over the course of a few weeks they cleared all the camphor laurel trees and levelled the paddocks.

A large pile of trees started to form where the tennis courts now are and as they were too large to burn they became a place of shade for all the locals who were helping clear rocks off the cleared land. Eventually this pile of trees turned into ‘The Camphor Laurel Club’ where a cleansing ale could be had at the end of the day for the workers.

The ground held its first cricket match on 8 June 1981 between Bangalow and Tintenbar. The large pine tree that is along the tree line in the north east corner of the field was donated by Alstonville Cricket Club on their first visit to the grounds. Shultzy was an opening batsman and wicket keeper. His batting average was around 40 with a top score of 124 N.O. in a game against Ballina. He retired from the police force in 1981 and still lives in Bangalow with Jan.

Howard Zatt

He’s not sure exactly when he began announcing the Bangalow Show, but believes it must be at least 40 years ago. While the town itself has grown and gone through some major transformations during that time, Peter’s view from the ring has remained pretty unchanged. “It is one of my favourite towns, and it always has been.”

Asked if he has a preferred event, he says he loves them all. “To me it’s the best little show that I’ve come across because they don’t just do a show, they do entertainment.” His wife Libby – also involved in agricultural shows through her love of horse riding – adds it’s the meeting of the diverse Byron Bay influence with the more traditional rural component that pulls the crowds. Peter agrees, “they go because they don’t know what they’re going to get, or what’s going to happen.”

While Libby is from the area, Peter was born in Moree and grew up in nearby Gunnedah. When the local radio station, 2MO, relocated to premises directly across the road from his childhood home, he began hanging out at the studio, his interest indulged by the evening announcer at the time, Neville Grey. He left school at 15, without aspirations of a career in radio on account of his ‘thin’ voice, instead working in the grocery section of the local department store.

That all changed after his voice broke quite dramatically during a family caravanning holiday in Ballina. Neville suggested he and his new voice apply for Bryson Taylor’s radio coaching program, and in 1957 at age 16, he caught the train down to Sydney to stay with his grandmother. Bryson Taylor’s training studios were located in the historic AWA (Amalgamated Wireless Australasia) building in York Street, which was also home to the biggest radio network in Australia at the time.

Amongst this thriving hub of broadcasting activity, Peter learnt how to write copy, read commercials and the news, and host a radio show, and was sent away at the end of the month’s course with instructions to buy the newspaper every day and practice reading stories out loud.

Upon his return to Gunnedah he went to see 2MO about a job, but was told he was still a little too young. Peter “didn’t disagree,” and continued working in the grocery department. A few months later, to his surprise while playing cricket in his side yard, the station manager popped his head over the hedge and told him to come in on Sunday and have a go on air.

Peter arrived at the station, only to have the manager announce he was leaving him to it and heading out. He had half an hour to work out the daunting array of turntables, reel-to-reel tapes and gongs to play at the introduction of the news. Three hours later the manager returned and said he and his wife had been listening over their lunch and she had told him to hire him.

He gave notice at the department store, and just three months shy of his 17th birthday, Peter’s career in radio began. He stayed at 2MO for nearly three years, and then began working around the country. “In those days announcers moved a lot. If someone offered you an extra five pound, you went.” During a stint in Newcastle his manager suggested a name change – not a fan of his birth name, Cecil Went.

By this stage Libby was on the scene, and he asked her to choose one, having never liked Cecil himself. She suggested Peter, which he has answered to ever since. When he later started at Sydney’s 2UW he decided to “go the whole hog” and again, asked Libby to choose a new surname. Peter Crawford was born – albeit to the confusion of Libby’s students. “Are you living in sin, Mrs Went?” she was asked at school after a picture of the couple was published in the paper using Peter’s stage name.

Peter began work at Lismore’s 2LM, where he became program manager for 10 years. Each year 2LM would broadcast live from the Lismore Show, and in 1980, during his third or fourth time there, he was approached by one of the organisers and asked if he could fill in immediately for the announcer who was “a little bit on the tippy side.” He knew little about the goings on apart from what he had witnessed both at the Show and through Libby’s involvement with horse competitions, and had to be talked through it.

He was soon contacted by the Kyogle Show, “and before I realised it, I was doing Lismore, Kyogle and Casino. It just grew from there.” In 1982 he left radio, although continued to provide voice overs for what is now WIN television, and embarked on a busy schedule of shows, and calling rodeos and the trots. After 30 years he stepped back from rodeos after being knocked down twice in 12 months. “A bull had an argument with me, and a horse had an argument with me. They both won. I thought I’m getting too old for this.” With the death of his cousin, Bruce Green, at the Tamworth Rodeo under similar circumstances in 2021, it seems to be a wise move.

As much as Peter loves working the local show circuit of Nimbin, Kyogle, Bangalow, Casino, Lismore, Alstonville, Bonalbo, Maclean and Grafton, he admits it’s tough being out in the arena on his feet for so many hours. “As long as I can do a show, I’ll do it,” he says. “I’m getting a bit slow with my hips. I find it very difficult to walk sometimes, but I’m never short of breath. I can talk all day,” he laughs.

Volunteers operating the Bangalow Historical Society rooms are often asked who lived around here before white settlement, and where they lived. While it is well known that there were seaside camps around Byron Bay and inland in the Lismore area, far less is known about the area we now know as Bangalow 2479.

An article by geographer and academic D.N. Jeans, from The University of Sydney, describes what was going on before 1861, when Sir John Robertson’s Crown Lands Alienation Act came into being. ‘When a piece of country was wanted for private ownership and alienation from the Crown, a government surveyor made a plan of the portion to be alienated,’ it explains in his chapter in the NSW National Parks and Wildlife Service book, Rainforest Remnants.

So the Crown owned everything, until the land was surveyed and could be purchased from the Crown, a process called “alienation”. The original “portion plans” are kept in the Plan Room at the Lands Department in Sydney, appropriately numbered. Not only do these portion plans refer to land of a particular size, they also ‘contain information about vegetation at the time of alienation’, D.N. Jeans explained. (Before the land was officially documented in this way, it may well have been settled by squatters – but that’s another story.)

By 1864 the Crown issued new instructions to its surveyors. Not only did they have to mark the corner trees around each plan they identified, they also had to mark ‘the boundaries of swamps, forests, plains, lands liable to inundations…the geological and mineralogical character of lands surveyed, the suitability for towns, for cultivation and building purposes, the supply of water and indigenous produce as timber, grass etc’, the same chapter reveals. After 1864, the surveyors’ descriptions included the names of tree species, and commented on soils.

You may have heard that at the time of settlement, the Big Scrub covered 75,000 hectares. In The Big Scrub Rainforest – a Journey Through Time, there’s a description of this land of the Bundjalung people, who ‘held a belief that the land belonged to them, and they belonged to it’.

‘The Big Scrub was a unique feature of the Bundjalung Country, which stretches south to the Clarence River, north to Beaudesert, and west to the Great Dividing Range’, it reads in that book. ‘The natural features and landforms that formed their Country, including the Big Scrub, were understood to be the creation of their Dreamtime ancestors. Bundjalung people’s relationship with the landscape was cyclical, shaped in accordance with seasonal changes and renewal. This contrasted with the thinking of the Europeans, who believed that mankind was on a forward trajectory of linear progress’.

While we may not have found out specifically where in 2479 the Bundjalung people of this time lived, writings of early European surveyors and settlers clearly documented what food was available. ‘The Big Scrub harboured an incredible diversity of plant and animal life that was hunted and gathered, by Bundjalung people for food and other needs’, it continues in that book. ‘This comprised nuts and berries, roots and fruit. Forestdwelling animals included snakes and birds. Possums provided pelts for body coverings, and vines, rushes and grasses the material for bindings, baskets and bags. Creeks and streams were a critical source of fresh water, as well as sustaining tortoises and other creatures, also hunted. Waterfalls, highpoints and other landforms and features scattered throughout the Big Scrub landscape embodied cultural stories that tell of the interconnectedness of the landscape and all that lived upon it.’

The Bangalow Historical Society is producing a short film with Delta Kay, from Explore Byron Bay. Delta takes tours of the land around the Bangalow Museum, Piccabeen Park, in which she points out edible bush tucker plants, and plants used for natural medicine, jewellery, fibre, tools and weapons. The film will reflect information shared in her tours.

The Uncovering our Past exhibition opens 21 September at the Bangalow Historical Society Museum, corner Ashton and Deacon Streets, Bangalow. It will feature beautiful line drawings of native plants and animals found in the area, drawn by Andy Erskine and Dailan Pugh, some of which will be for sale. Check out Bangalow Historical Society Facebook page for details.