The Archives of Wilfred J Prest and Michelle de Kretser’s The Lost Dog

Gwynneth Thomas

On an autumn evening in the city, Tom looked sideways at other people’s lives
–The Lost Dog, p. 8

During this first year of my PhD candidature, I am learning how to ‘do’ graduate research. My peers and I frequently complain that this is a disorienting experience: we are each performing acts of intellectual dislocation as we learn to become better scholars. Many of us, including myself, are also experiencing a physical dislocation as we learn how to be in the University campus, the city of Melbourne, or the country of Australia.

My introduction to the University Archives through the papers of Wilfred J Prest has confronted me with both types of dislocation. First, the steep learning curve presented by unfamiliar methods of archival research. Second, the sense of physical displacement encountered when reaching back through the past via the archive to glimpse the city’s changing face.

To meet these challenges, I find myself looking inward – to the imagined spaces of my favourite novels – and outward – as I walk from an unfamiliar shared flat on the edges of Parkville to campus and start to place myself within the city of Melbourne.

Australian writer Michelle de Kretser’s The Lost Dog is perhaps the digital humanist novel par excellence to aid me with this process of dis- and re-location. Its protagonist, Tom, is a scholar at an unnamed but unmistakeably Melbournian university. Tom walks the urban landscape:

From time to time, when he should have been at school, Tom wandered [the city’s] ruled streets: King, William, Queen, Elizabeth. Within a familiar history he was finding his place in a new geography. Sometimes he thought, No one in the whole world knows where I am.
– The Lost Dog, p. 59

Searching for an item in the Wilfred J Prest collection to hook me, I decide to focus my research on the Social Survey forms gathered from my new home of Parkville.

Tom avoided microfilm wherever possible; was grateful for the digital imaging that had replaced it […] Blurred columns of newsprint rolled towards him, the past advancing with speedy, futuristic menace as he tried to locate what he needed
–The Lost Dog, pp. 54-55

I skim 761 digitised pages of cursive scrawl from the Melbourne 15 series containing surveys from the municipality of Melbourne (today’s suburbs of Melbourne City, East, West, and North Melbourne, Carlton, Carlton North, Parkville, Flemington, Kensington, and Newport) to locate the forms I require.

While John Lack’s 1981 re-coding of a sample of Prest’s survey data identifies nine ‘cases’ from Parkville, I am only able to locate forms for seven households (Lack 1981). Three addresses are less than 500 metres from my own home.

In 1941, in a detached wooden house at 8 Church Street, there was a family of seven. Their 21-year-old son was a trainee with the RAAF. The house at 128 Flemington Road was owned by a 73-year-old widow who earned her income by renting the house next door: the interviewer notes that the widow ‘probably has other source of unearned income but [is] very vague’. Two ‘spinster’ sisters in their fifties lived at 15 Manningham Street. The eldest was a nurse and worked in Sunbury Mental Hospital.

I wonder if any of these homes exist unchanged since 1941 or if they have been demolished to make way for flats or high-rise apartments. Which have been included in other archives through heritage listing? Which have faded into obscurity?

Figure 1: Map of the Parkville area showing residences surveyed in the University of Melbourne Social Survey and locations listed on the Victorian Heritage Database.

The simple map shown in Figure 1, generated with Google MyMaps, brings archival records from the Social Survey into dialogue with the Victorian Heritage Database (VHD). None of the Parkville dwellings surveyed by Prest (indicated by red markers) are recognised as a place of ‘state-level cultural heritage significance’ by the Victorian Heritage Register, indicated by blue markers. However, Google Earth indicates that at least four, potentially six, of the original buildings remain. At two addresses, 53 Morrah Street and 38 Story Street, Prest’s interviewers stopped tantalisingly close to an address now listed by the VHD.

The memorials were puzzling in their arbitrariness, offering no indication why these places, dates and citizens had been singled out. Tom discerned the willed creation of a sense of the past: a municipal mythmaking […] They displaced history with heritage, plastering over trauma with a picturesque frieze. A spectator might have their detail by heart and no inkling of the chasm that separated bark canoes and William Merton, bootmaker. The unofficial past flared more vividly, illuminated in matchlit glimpses.
–The Lost Dog pp. 53-54

The absence of duplicate addresses in these databases illustrates an essential truth of archival studies: “every archive is partial, and every partial archive has its anxieties’ (Jardine and Kelty 2016). It also demonstrates the advantages of cross-referencing digital archives to generate more complex understandings of our shared history. And the ‘unofficial past’ of the anonymous families who shared their lives through the University of Melbourne Social Survey suggests new ways by which to locate myself in relation to past and present.

References

De Kretser, Michelle. (2008). The Lost Dog. Allen & Unwin.

Lack, John. (1981). University of Melbourne Social Survey, 1941-1943: A 1981 Sample (Version V3) [dataset]. ADA Dataverse. https://doi.org/10.26193/0URT1Q

Prest, Wilfred, Melbourne 15 (1941-1942), [UMA-ITE-1973000200026]. University of Melbourne Archives, accessed 09/05/2024, https://uma.recollectcms.com/nodes/view/216437

‘Criteria for Inclusion in the Victorian Heritage Register,’ Heritage Council of Victoria. (n.d.). Retrieved 9 May 2024, from https://heritagecouncil.vic.gov.au/heritage-protection/criteria-and-thresholds-for-inclusion/

Jardine, Boris and Christopher Kelty (eds.). (2016). ‘The total archive’. Limn, 6: 2-3.

Modern living was for sale in Second World War Melbourne – but only in the right streets

Patrick Gigacz

‘Paid £120 extra for H.W.S. [hot water service], electric stove and extras … W.C. [water closet – toilet] will be inside when sewerage put in.’ These comments to an interviewer for the University of Melbourne Social Survey in 1941 provide a glimpse of the decisions, frustrations and complexities that accompanied the expansion of modern infrastructure in the city in the mid-twentieth century.

Using a sample of the digitised Social Survey forms from houses in Sunshine, Braybrook and Maribyrnong, this blog post explores how enhancing the rudimentary geographical metadata of this archive can provoke interesting questions about the social and physical geography of the city, and facilitate further research.

Mapping the Data

To create this interactive Google map, each of the forms in the sample used for this blog post was geocoded using the Time Layered Cultural Map toolset. Alongside the geodata, a selection of structured information about the bathing, toilet, cooking and food storage facilities was manually extracted from the forms.

Geolocating archival datasets can require further research, paying attention to unstructured data in the archive, and cross-referencing information from multiple archival sources. For example, the address of the house in the introduction to this blog post was given as 6 Gordon St, Maribyrnong. On a modern map, this address is between Monash and Mitchell streets – but a Melbourne and Metropolitan Board of Works (MMBW) map shows that this block already had a sewer installed in 1926. A 1945 Sands & McDougall directory shows that, at this time, 6 Gordon St referred instead to a block further north, between Macedon and River streets. An MMBW plan for this block confirms that it was unsewered as of 1940.

This demonstrates one challenge of adding structured metadata to archival sources. Indeed, for many of the forms in this sample, no street number was recorded, and so geocoding required a ‘best guess’ position based on known features. To reflect this, the metadata includes a field for ‘location certainty’: ‘N’ for number- or lot-level, and ‘S’ for street-level.

Urban Networks

What further questions can this geodata raise about the Social Survey archive? The sewerage status and toilet location of houses in this sample provides interesting context to the Gordon St household’s comments (Figure 1). Unsewered blocks were widespread in this sample. As suburbia stretched rapidly, the MMBW felt that ‘people could do without sewers but not without water’ (Dingle 1991, 210). Of the known sewered properties, none had an inside toilet – so 6 Gordon Street’s readiness was unusual, and suggests the possibility of research into how household affluence affected homeowners’ ability to take advantage of hygienic infrastructure.

Figure 1: Toilets layer.

Far more residents were able to have a bath inside (Figure 2). For hot water, many depended on the chip heaters or coppers used by their neighbours with outhouses, even when gas or electricity was available nearby. The map shows a nuanced picture: even as baths moved inside and reticulated energy became available, residents continued to use labour-intensive water heating. It offers the potential for new conclusions about how social ideals of ‘modern’ living changed housing conditions.

Figure 2: Bath layer.

Many of the houses with solid-fuel hot water had a gas or electric stove – but often, they operated a wood stove as well (Figure 3). Gas companies had struggled to capture the market from fire stoves, because the latter provided a source of warmth (Clendinning 2004, 40-1). This map shows that ‘modern’ houses connected to gas and electricity were clustered around town centres, but it also shows a reluctance to let go of older ways of cooking, which further research might explore.

Figure 3: Stoves layer.

Cold food storage, finally, complicates the picture of ‘modernisation’ (Figure 4). Only one house had electric refrigeration – because the residents lived behind the general store they owned! Other houses marked as ‘modern’ by their cooking or hot water arrangements remained dependent on older networks: regular deliveries of ice, close access to suppliers of perishables like the general store, or both. Further research might explore how these networks changed and eventually disappeared.

Figure 4: Cold Storage layer.

The most striking impression offered by mapping this data is its diversity. Every house in the sample depended on multiple, overlapping networks of urban services, many competing directly against each other. Expanding the digital archive, reveals a rich tapestry of visual insights into how Melbourne functions as a city, and the exciting possibilities of future research.

Patrick Gigacz is a PhD candidate in the School of Historical and Philosophical Studies, researching the cultural history of electricity in Melbourne in the early 20th century.

References

Dingle, Tony. (1991). Vital Connections: Melbourne and Its Board of Works, 1891-1991. Ringwood, Vic: McPhee Gribble.

Clendinning, Anne. (2004). Demons of Domesticity: Women and the English Gas Industry, 1889-1939. Aldershot; Burlington, VT: Ashgate.

George Paton Gallery AV Experimental Art Collection

When picturing working on the audiovisual (AV) component of the George Paton Gallery Collection, I imagined watching and listening to buried gems from the Melbourne 1970s and 1980s contemporary art scene. The reality of the project has offered me a glimpse into the significant and rewarding task which comes prior to watching and listening – the preparation of AV items for digitisation.   

University of Melbourne Archives (UMA) AV collection spans over 11,000 items, meaning AV makes up a portion of most major collections at UMA. UMA’s AV holdings captures a diverse range of content, while also serving as an interesting record of the rapidly evolving AV technologies that were in use throughout the 19th and 20th centuries (1). AV archiving presents a unique set of challenges, including the fact that playback technology for analogue formats is often obsolete and therefore difficult to access. Further, the skills and knowledge required to operate and maintain playback technology are increasingly rare, while each play of an AV item is risky – as analogue formats are highly unstable and prone to damage or loss (8).  Aside from considerations about the physical storage and preservation of AV items, there are other factors to consider such as the textual record which relates to the contents and access history of an AV item.  

Ewing Gallery AV featuring Kiffy Rubbo UM_IT_1990014400579

The George Paton Gallery collection metadata is rife with the names of influential figures and iconic works from Australia’s early contemporary and avant-garde art scene (a couple of examples that were recognisable to me include Earthworks, 1975 by Burt Flugelman, and Murray River Punch, 1980 by Bonita Ely). There were some items which were lacking in detailed metadata, rendering their content somewhat of a mystery. This highlights the digitisation of AV archives not only as a crucial step in making these items accessible and preservable, but also sometimes as the only available method of uncovering their contents. Much of the Paton Gallery AV collection is housed on magnetic media (compact cassette tapes and U-Matic tapes) which the National Film and Sound Archive (NFSA) [2017] highlighted as a format particularly at risk of permanent damage or loss of content (2).  

In preparing the collection for digitisation we first located and audited the materials, updating information and labelling as required. This involved some joyous discoveries, such as finding hand printed cassette tape artwork for a compilation record released by label rash(DECISIONS). The next step was creating data about the items, some of which will be embedded into digital preservation copies and some of which will be used in tracking the items throughout their digitisation journey. The items are now accounted for, safely boxed up and ready to travel to Crystal Mastering where they will be digitised.  

Throughout this preparatory work, it became increasingly clear that the AV portion of the George Paton Gallery archives involves a rare collection of records, from experimental sound recording to lectures given at the gallery, to documentation of performance art and events. This collection holds a particularly significant glimpse into the “alternative” kind of art which was emerging during the early days of the Gallery. Being one of the first Australian venues to support and show “alternative” art, the George Paton Gallery was an important space for installation art, mixed media works, experimental film and video works, performance art, and “women’s” art (3). By supporting and regularly showing experimental work which fell outside the scope of many institutions at the time, the Paton Gallery fostered a valuable space for contemporary art and artists (4).  

There is a distinct gap in the documentation and collection of early examples of Australian video art, evidenced by the lack of currently accessible records of this nature (5). This gap, either in terms of AV access or textual information, creates a degree of “cultural amnesia” (Galimberti, Perkins, 2008) (6) surrounding early examples of Australian video art, sound, film and performance work. The digitisation of AV items in the George Paton Gallery collection has the potential to be a valuable step in bridging this gap, making more of our heritage AV material accessible.  

It feels exciting to have been a small part in making this unique content accessible for current and future researchers, and to be a part of working towards preserving AV history which is at risk of being lost. I’m looking forward to being able to watch and listen! 

Isabel Wengert,

Project Archivist

 

1.Emma Hyde, “From audit to sound practice: Audio visual collections at the university of Melbourne Archives,” The Australasian Sound Archive, 40 (2015): 24-31, https://search.informit.org/doi/10.3316/informit.969622576495002 

 2. “Deadline 2025: Collections at Risk,” National Film and Sound Archive, published August 2017,    National Film and Sound Archive: Deadline 2025 (nfsa.gov.au) 

3. C. Barnes, “Art world change in the 1970s”, in When You Think About Art: The Ewing & George Paton Galleries 1971-2008, ed. Helen Vivian (South Yarra: Macmillan Art Publishing, 2008), 148-162. 

4.J. Annear, “Not careful? the Ewing and George Paton Galleries, 1979-1982”, in When you Think About A rt: The Ewing & George Paton Galleries 1971-2008, ed. Helen Vivian (South Yarra: Macmillan Art Publishing, 2008), 64-81 

5. E. Galimberti, M. Perkins, “Historical continuums: video art at the George Paton Gallery”, in When you Think About A rt: The Ewing & George Paton Galleries 1971-2008, ed. Helen Vivian (South Yarra: Macmillan Art Publishing, 2008), 210-223 

6. E. Galimberti, M. Perkins, “Historical continuums: video art at the George Paton Gallery”, in When you Think About A rt: The Ewing & George Paton Galleries 1971-2008, ed. Helen Vivian (South Yarra: Macmillan Art Publishing, 2008), 210-223 

 7. J. Annear, “Not careful? the Ewing and George Paton Galleries, 1979-1982”, in When you Think About A rt: The Ewing & George Paton Galleries 1971-2008, ed. Helen Vivian (South Yarra: Macmillan Art Publishing, 2008), 64-81 

 8. “Digitisation Strategy 2018-2025,” National Film and Sound Archive, published May 2018, nfsa_digitisation_strategy_2018-2025.pdf 

The Rise of Chinese Australians’ Box Hill: A Comparative History Review

Shouyue Zhang

Today’s Box Hill in Greater Melbourne is widely recognised as a vibrant Asian community and the most populous Chinese-Australian enclave in Victoria. In 2021, around 30 percent of Box Hill residents were born in China (Whitehorse City Council, 2021). But it wasn’t always that way. In this article I explore how Box Hill transformed from a train town into a suburban Chinatown. Why did Chinese Australians move from the Chinatown on Little Bourke Street in Melbourne’s CBD to Box Hill? What was the demographic landscape of Box Hill in the 1940s? And how did Chinese immigrants reshape the suburb? By examining data in the University of Melbourne Social Survey, conducted by Professor Wilfred Prest in 1942, I compare today’s multicultural community with Box Hill as it was in the years immediately before Arthur Calwell, the Chifley government’s immigration minister from 1945 to 1949, began the long processes of winding back the White Australia policy.

Early History and Development

Box Hill’s early history revolved around its geographical advantages and its status as a transportation hub. The rail network across Melbourne’s north and the construction of the Box Hill and Doncaster tramway in 1889, the first electric tramway in the southern hemisphere, played crucial roles in its early development. By 1927, Box Hill had acquired the status of a municipal city, and by the early 1940s, it was already undergoing urbanisation.

Figure 1: Finlay and Morgan, The Days Before Yesterday, courtesy of The Box Hill Historical Society.

The Pacific War accelerated urbanisation in Box Hill, with many residents engaged in white-collar jobs and a few in train-related industries. However, the survey did not record interviewees’ races, possibly assuming all respondents were white, as Box Hill was not as diverse as it is today.

Figure 2: based on a selection of 30 forms in Wilfred Prest, Box Hill 00 (November 1942-December 1942), University of Melbourne Archives.

Demographic Changes and Migration

The final termination of the White Australia policy and China’s internal upheaval in 1989 were turning points for Box Hill’s demographics. Gradual relaxation of restrictions on Asian immigrants in the late 1950s and 1960s, combined with the gentrification of Chinatown on Little Bourke Street, led Chinese newcomers to seek more affordable areas. The 1989 Tiananmen Square Massacre further spurred Chinese immigration to Australia.

Chinese immigrants were drawn to Box Hill for its convenient transportation and business facilities. The opening of Whitehorse Plaza Shopping Centre (now Box Hill Central) in 1974 and the relocation of Box Hill Station underground in 1983 facilitated the area’s development into a bustling commercial hub (Finlay and Morgan 1995, 1-2, 5). This attracted Chinese businesspeople and residents, reshaping the city’s demographics.

Community and Cultural Transformation

The Evangelical Chinese Church Melbourne, established in 1978, and other Chinese businesses and services marked the growing Chinese community in Box Hill. Class photos from local schools between 1930 and 1994 illustrate the shift from an almost all-white student body to a more multicultural one, reflecting the suburb’s transformation into a diverse community (see Figure 4). In a photograph from 1994 (Figure 4), which was published in Finlay and Morgan’s history of Box Hill, a Chinese-language sign advertising travel services can be observed in the background, showing how demographic changes began to impact the urban streetscape.

Figure 3: A Chinese Travel Service’s sign. Originally published in Finlay and Morgan, The Days We Remember, 1995, p.25. Republished with permission from The Box Hill Historical Society.

Conclusion

The suburbanisation of Chinese communities in Box Hill mirrors global trends seen in the United States post-World War II. Federal investments in urban renewal led to gentrification in historical Chinatowns, pushing Chinese immigrants to suburban areas with modern facilities (Wilson 2016; Yee 2012; Zhang 2021). In cities like Manhattan, Boston and Philadelphia, just as in Melbourne, newcomers had to find suburban municipalities to rebuild their communities.

Most Chinese immigrants to the United States in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were from Southern China, particularly Guangdong and Fujian provinces. However, the postwar Chinese immigrants had more diverse backgrounds in terms of education and occupation, as well as their cultural origins. They did not adapt to historical Chinatown’s ‘outdated’ lifestyle, preferring more modern facilities in suburban Chinatowns like Flushing and Sunset Park in New York State (Zhao 2010). Could the same be true of the wave Chinese immigrants who made a home for themselves in Box Hill?

The rise of the Chinese Australian community in Box Hill resulted from gentrification and consumerism, consistent with global postwar trends of Chinese immigrant suburbanisation. Future research could explore how white residents took advantage of racial policies during the White Australia era and the subsequent transformation of Little Bourke Street Chinatown to cater to white consumers’ oriental imaginations.

Figure 4: Originally published in Finlay and Morgan, The Days We Remember, 1995, p.71. Republished with permission from The Box Hill Historical Society.

Shouyue Zhang is a PhD student at the University of Melbourne’s School of Historical and Philosophical Studies. His research focuses on immigration and gender history in the early 20th-century United States. He appreciates the generous approval of the Box Hill Historical Society for using the images.

References

Finlay, Eleanor and Morgan, Marjorie. (1995). The Days We Remember: Box Hill in Pictures 1960-1994. Box Hill, Vic.: Box Hill Historical Society.

Whitehorse City Council. (2021). ‘Demographic Snapshot’. https://www.whitehorse.vic.gov.au/about-council/facts-maps/demographic-snapshot. Accessed 8 May 2024.

Wilson, Kathryn. (2016). ‘”Same Struggle, Same Fight”: Yellow Seeds and the Asian American Movement in Philadelphia’s Chinatown’. The Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography 140(3): 423–25

Yee, Mary. (2012). ‘The Save Chinatown Movement: Surviving against All Odds’. Pennsylvania Legacies 12(1): 24–31

Zhang, Shouyue. (2021). ‘We Won’t Move’. New York Archive 20(3): 30-33

Zhao, Xiaojian. (2010). The New Chinese America: Class, Economy, and Social Hierarchy. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press.

From Below: Working-Class Perceptions of Post-War Australia

Jacobin Bosman

Picture Footscray. What comes to mind? The answer, at least for Melbournians, is probably some variation on the setting for 1992’s Romper Stomper with gentrification threatening from all sides. In the 1940s, however, Footscray was the eighth largest municipality in Greater Melbourne, a significant industrial hub and a centre for munitions manufacturing.

In 1943, the economist Wilfred Prest chose Footscray as the site of a supplementary inquiry to the University of Melbourne Social Survey, concentrating on the ‘extent and magnitude’ of wartime social and economic change.

By mapping responses to a single question in the supplemental survey – titled ‘Attitude to Post-War’ – we can see the diversity of this storied suburb in terms of the uneven distribution of wartime sentiment. What is revealed is that in this large and economically important municipality, there was no geographical uniformity of feeling about the war and the future: a fact that reflects the anxieties of that particular historical moment.

Working-Class Political Diversity

The 1940s press depicted Footscray as a hotbed of communist activity. And there is some truth to this: there were well-attended communist meetings in the suburb, ‘uproarious’ disruptions of Liberal Party events and calls for blocking industrial expansion in residential areas. Indeed, mass walkouts were staged by workers over conditions on the shop floor throughout World War II.

However, a more complex picture emerged through data mapping. Most households made no direct mention of political affiliations, while others supported leaders rather than parties. Some respondents identified as unionists first and foremost, while only a small number of households declared affiliation to the Communist and Labor Parties, or the New World Reconstruction Movement.

Figure 1: Sunshine Advocate “Footscray Election” 9 April 1943, Trove.

Survey responses did not correlate political alignment with attitudes toward post-war reconstruction. Instead, individuals or households with conspiratorial theories about the political system in general tended towards negative perceptions of the future. Left- and right-leaning households expressed concerns that the vested interests of a political or economic elite would counteract national progress and the improvement of workers’ lives. Footscray thus emerges as a politically engaged, vibrant community in which conflicting political views and perspectives on the future coexisted.

Figure 2: A screenshot of mapped data showing the spread of positive (green), neutral (yellow), and negative (red) survey responses.

Women’s Political Beliefs

Prest’s data for the supplemental survey offers insights into working-class women’s political beliefs. The majority of responses came from women, not due to a wartime absence of men. Many Footscray households retained male members employed in essential industries. Rather, women not only had the authority to answer questions of household management, but to represent the household’s social and political perspectives.

Figure 3: Weekly Times, “Miss Victoria Makes Munitions,” 12 July, 1941, Trove.

Prest’s data allows us to reconsider the 1940s homemaker and her level of engagement with social and political issues. Although women were a highly visible presence in the workforce during World War II, selecting the purple ‘female’ icon we can see that most interviewees were homemakers. These women demonstrated a proactive interest in post-war Australia’s future.

Figure 4: A screenshot showing the houses where women offered survey responses.

Future Possibilities

This mapping project offers a limited insight into the potential for exploring Wilfred Prest’s digitised survey documents. However, it also highlights possibilities for future expansion. Disaggregating the collection of digitised surveys would, for instance, allow individual records to be linked directly to their mapped representations. Similarly, new patterns may emerge from adding different layers, such as household structure or average income.

In its present state, mapping the attitudes of Footscray’s working-class community to the post-War period allows us to imagine Footscray as a living community. By looking beyond Footscray’s flattened representation, we glimpse a socially, politically and intellectually diverse community with sincere beliefs in, and questions about, their future.

Jacobin Bosman is a PhD candidate in the School of Historical and Philosophical Studies. His research explores sexual and gender transgression’s role in defining the body politic in pre-Federation Australia.

References

‘1800 Workers on Strike at Footscray’. (1942, 2 June). Herald, p.5. https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/245193951. Accessed 21 June 2024.

‘Uproarious Footscray Meeting’. (1943, 23 October). Argus, p.3. https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/22515421. Accessed 21 June 2024.

Davison, Graeme. (2012). ‘Prest, Wilfred (1907-1985)’. Australian Dictionary of Biography. National Centre of Biography, Australian National University. https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/prest-wilfred-14866. Accessed 21 June 2024.

Land Values Research Group. (1945). Report on Social Effects of Municipal Rating: A Study Conducted in Footscray. Melbourne: Land Values Research Group. https://nla.gov.au/nla.obj-446314296/view?partId=nla.obj-446332091. Accessed 21 June 2024.

Sharpley, Cecil. (1943, 12 March). ‘To the Editor’. Sunshine Advocate, p.2. https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/74731853. Accessed 21 June 2024.

‘Munition Men Plan 24 Hours Strike’. (1941, 18 January). Sun News-Pictorial, p.10. https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/page/31382184. Accessed 21 June 2024 .

‘Footscray Election: Another Large Communist Meeting’. (1943, 9 April). Sunshine Advocate, p.4. https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/74731853. Accessed 21 June 2024.

‘Miss Victoria Makes Munitions’. (1941, 12 July). Weekly Times. https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/224831812. Access 21 June 2024.

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