One October day in 1967 I was waiting at the bus stop just outside the Frankston Train Station. A dignified gentleman approached me from the Station. He was in his fifties and lugging a large suitcase. Although I had never met him, I knew who he was. His ‘dog collar’ identified him as Anglican bishop Felix Arnott.
The following Sunday I was to be confined by him. At the final catechism class in preparation for the event, the Vicar of St Paul’s in Frankston, Rev. A. G. Church had told the group; ‘I want you to tell me what colour his eyes are’.
Arnott asked me: ‘When does your bus come?’ I told him it was some time yet. He then asked me to look after his suitcase while he went across the road to the Post Office. I was happy to undertake the task and he quickly made his way across the road – being sure to cross at the pedestrian crossing. (The Station and bus stop were much the same when Gregory Peck visited in 1959.) I saw Bishop Arnott again that Sunday and double-checked his eye colour.
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| My confirmation certificate, though my middle name is not as 'given'. |
I was the youngest catechist in the small group which had met weekly at Mrs Palmer’s home on Fortescue Avenue, Seaford, and two years before had been the oldest baptism at St Paul’s for the year. I didn’t attend St Paul’s regularly as we lived in Seaford, five miles north of Frankston. I attended St Silas Church, also on Fortescue Avenue, which was a 'daughter' church of St Paul's. The services were initially held in a renovated garage at Norman Rae's home. The panelling was Masonite and the group of about 40 filled the room. Norman and Margaret Rae were the driving forces of the fledgeling congregation; he was Honorary Secretary and she was President of the Ladies Guild. The Church was presumably named in recognition that the original Silas supported the work of Paul the Apostle.
I had decided to attend after becoming a CEB - a member of the Church of England Boy’s Society. The CEBS handbook introduced me to several religious concepts and emphasised the benefits of attending a church service. All this was new to me. I had joined the CEBS in part because a hospital visit the previous year had alerted me to the world of religion. I considered joining the scouts but settled on the CEBS because it was different, the uniform was blue - and there were some scouts I didn’t like. Meetings were held in the Seaford Hall - once a picture theatre and now replaced with grass in front of the community centre.
The congregation had outgrown the garage which was uncomfortable in the summer. And so, a proper church hall was built. It was designed in 1964 by leading ecclesiastical architect Blyth Johnson (1928-2018). The foundation stone was laid on 15 November 1964 by the Right Reverend Geoffrey Tremayne Sambell (1914-1980). Norman and Margaret drove the project and the building was dedicated - probably - on 1 March 1966. Services were held every Sunday with a variety of celebrants including Albert Church. The others who I remember are; Rev. Strickland, Rev. Bruce Clark who was chaplain at the Peninsular Boys School (now Peninsular Grammar) and lay-preacher Keith Stanley (who was later ordained and served in the Ballarat Diocese).
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| The inside cover of Mum's hymn book. |
The choir was led by a stentorian-voiced Welshman, Sid Jones, who was also a regular lay preacher from St Paul’s. My mother was one of several people to play the piano for practice and services. I sang soprano and was expecting to become a tenor. The choir was large though only had one bass voice – Norman Rae – whose resonating murmur added a comfortable musical balance and a familiar consistency to practice and services.
I remember some of the congregation – Hosking, Gooding, Palmer, Cole, Nicholls (who we often visited after services) and a Yorkshire woman who wore a fur coat and a purple felt-hat and spoke to my mother in French and Hindi. Norman Rae made a big impression on everyone; he was regularly farewelled to return to the Overflow in winter but was always back in the autumn. There were many others including a large Sunday School group supported by Greg Davies and ‘postie’ Arthur Turner - who had moderate success teaching me to ride a bicycle.
For several years the church held an annual picnic at Devilbend Reservoir, which my mother thought amusing. I recall one fund-raising event in the Hall; a ‘housie-housie’ evening. This was my first such event and, as a boy, I couldn’t work out how playing a game could raise money. The name was a mouthful - especially when you had to call it out in order to win a round. Mum, who knew a bit about Presbyterian things, explained that it was usually called ‘bingo’. I thought this was a much better word to call out than what seemed to be the Anglican custom. I asked one of the organisers why he called it ‘housie-housie’ instead of ‘bingo’. His answer was; ‘Well, bingo is illegal’. This was too subtle for me but Mum smiled knowingly. This was significant as she usually didn’t do subtle.
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| Albert Church presented me with an Altar Book, inscribing it in the vestry room at St Silas. |
By 1970 we had left Seaford and lost contact with the group, though I continued as a server at St James the Less in Mount Eliza. In 1974 I met Norman who was a visitor to Manyung Gallery in Mount Eliza where I worked. He remembered me and we had a good chat. After that, I moved further away but was disappointed to hear that after Norman’s death in 1977 and Albert Church's tenure ended in 1984, the building was demolished and replaced with units.
The building itself was, unfortunately, uninteresting from the outside, with utility rooms facing the unfinished crushed-rock car park, so it is unsurprising that no photographs seem to have been taken. Inside, however, it was bright with the floor and sanctuary furniture of light-coloured Australian hardwood brightened further with the morning sun through yellow, blue and un-coloured opaque glass triangles. The walls were mid-grey concrete bricks and the bench seating was made of thin black piping with crimson artificial leather.
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| A plan showing the main features of the building. Public Building Files, Victorian Pubic Records Office. |
Now, some five decades later, the St Silas stories should be told – including the many parts I don’t yet know about. It seems little has survived and of course the original organisers are no longer with us. Perhaps you have a story, a photo or a memory that adds to the picture.
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| Commonwealth Youth Sunday, St Silas, South Seaford, 9 June 1968. I'm not in 'uniform', standing next to local MP Phillip Lynch. Does anyone have a copy of the program? |
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| Unfortunately, its gold letters have faded. I have a nice photo of a rectangular piece of grey granite. |
