B ased in sydney, I’ve worked as a historian for approximately twenty years. My scholarly background is in modern British and Australian political history (particularly Chartism and its influence in Australia); however, a good part of my post-doctoral employment has been in the heritage industry (primarily consultancy work for the New South Wales National Parks and Wildlife Service). I’ve also helped teach a wide range of History units at the University of New England. This site is a portfolio of some current research interests. Please use the contact form below if you’d like to get in touch.
The New England region of northern New South Wales has an interesting history of hydroelectric generation dating from the late 1880s. A number of historic photographs relating to two early schemes built at the Gara and Styx Rivers (in 1894 and 1907 respectively) are featured in this piece. Both installations were built to power machinery at Hillgrove’s gold and antimony mines although the Gara River scheme also provided power for town lighting at Hillgrove until about 1918. Most of the images are held at the University of New England Archives and Regional Heritage Centre at Armidale (and I thank staff members for their assistance).
This long essay is an updated chapter from my PhD thesis (University of New England, 2000). It examines the rhetoric and symbolism of the radical propaganda mobilised around Chartist leader Feargus O’Connor at his trial for seditious libel at York in 1840, his imprisonment at York Castle and the extensive celebrations that followed his release from prison (dressed in a fustian suit) in 1841. Chartism’s political fortunes traditionally have been attributed to material deprivation and, more recently, the first revival of the movement in 1841–42 to the organisational innovation that accompanied the formation of the National Charter Association in 1840. I argue that the ‘romance of the “Whig dungeon”’ constructed around O’Connor’s travails was also a significant factor of renewal in this instance.
If you’ve ever tried to accompany Beatles songs with an instrument tuned to standard ‘concert’ pitch (long defined by the International Organisation for Standardisation as A above middle C=440 Hz) you’ll soon find that many don’t conform to this convention. ‘Ticket to Ride’, for example, is almost half a semitone flat of concert pitch while ‘Here Comes the Sun’ is about a third of a semitone sharp: accompaniment of either with an instrument tuned to standard pitch will sound awful, as will many other Beatles tracks. In this article I look at some of the reasons why nearly all the songs on the the Beatles’ first album, Please Please Me, fall noticeably flat of concert pitch (as well as identifying their approximate mastered pitches). You can use this information to retune the songs to concert pitch in software or, alternatively, set your tuner’s master pitch to match each song.
This article is a companion piece to the one above on Please Please Me, identifying the mastered pitch of songs on the Beatles’ third album A Hard Day’s Night. Unlike the first two Beatles albums, a number of songs on A Hard Day’s Night end up mastered slightly sharp of concert pitch. While the divergences are less noticeable than the first album, you will still often need to retune your instrument or the song to achieve good accompaniment consonance.
On 25 May 1870 the bushranger Frederick Ward (popularly known as ‘Thunderbolt’ or ‘Captain Thunderbolt’) was shot and killed by a police trooper named Alexander Walker at Kentucky Creek, near Uralla, in northern New South Wales. In the following days an Armidale photographer named Andrew Cunningham captured at least ten photographs pertaining to Ward’s death. Some of these photos (particularly three of Ward’s cadaver) are well known; however, virtually no investigation of at least four other photos of the site of Ward’s death has been undertaken. I also look at the visual representation of Ward’s ‘capture’ in the colonial illustrated press, noting the ways in which these images diverge from reported reality.
The All England cricket team’s tour of 1861–62 generated unprecedented interest and excitement in the Australian colonies. In this article I discuss the visual documentation of one of the matches held at Sydney’s Outer Domain in early 1862, near the Royal Botanical Gardens and Sydney’s Central Business District. While an enormous panorama of the match captured by Thomas Glaister doesn’t appear to have survived, reportedly ‘instantaneous’ photographs of the match were also taken representing very early steps in the evolution of sports photography.
Naming children after radical radical political heroes was something of a tradition in England in the nineteenth century. In particular, during the early 1840s thousands of working-class parents gave their children the names of imprisoned Chartist leaders such as Feargus O’Connor or exiled counterparts such as John Frost. This essay looks at the phenomenon at the national and local levels and features a database and heatmap of identifiably ‘Chartist’ names drawn from state birth registration records for the period 1840 to 1842.
Remarkably, a pioneering and quite detailed photographic record survives of the culmination of one of the most significant days in English nineteenth-century political history—William Kilburn’s fascinating Daguerreotypes of the Chartist mass meeting held at Kennington Common (now Kennington Park), London on 10 April 1848. In this essay I look at Kilburn, his relationship with the Royal family and some of the potential reasons why he captured these very early images of mass political action. The essay concludes with a short discussion of whether Kilburn’s Chartist images were the first of a crowd.
Australia’s hydroelectric history began in 1883 when the ore dressing sheds at the Mount Bischoff Tin mine at Waratah in Northern Tasmania were lit by electric light. Over the course of the 1880s five other pioneering electric lighting installations were opened in Tasmania, Victoria and New South Wales. Presently, a substantial amount of misinformation surrounds some of the installations while others have not been given proper recognition and this overview presents each in chronological order. Like my other research articles, wherever possible digitised primary source evidence is directly linked in the footnotes.