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Robyn Mayes

Localising National Identity: Albany's Anzacs

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Local representations of the significance of Albany, Western Australia, in the first world war and of the city’s part in the birth of Anzac register substantial points of departure from national histories. While both the Anzac mythos and official renderings of Australia’s wars are vigorously contested, Albany’s reformulation offers a clear example of the ways in which communities actively inflect national narratives to create expressions of differentiated local identity. This article explores the relationship between the national and the local by focusing on the local narrative of the massing and departure of ‘The Great Anzac Convoy’ in King George Sound in 1914. Particular attention is given to the way Albany has been able to appropriate and localise this event and the origins of Anzac, consequently promoting itself as an important element of the national identity, from which it nevertheless remains distinct. This localisation of an important element of national identity confers cultural standing and a potentially empowered position in relation to this national identity.

Locating cultural identity: from nation to local community

The concept of nation as an overarching framework of social and cultural identity is increasingly being challenged. As a monoglossic structure, the nation is built upon the extensive repression of difference necessary to create the pretence of a stable and homogenous national group.1 Zygmunt Bauman suggests that the universalism that enabled the nation-state also made identities too ‘nebulous, immaterial and weightless for comfort, not to mention security’.2 Similarly, Desmond Morris takes the position that national groupings are too large for ‘meaningful’ identification.3 Nation as a primary frame of collective identity is eroded by a contemporary strengthening of smaller-scale allegiances and local identities. Indeed, such smaller-scale loyalties are seen to be replacing nation as the central organising structure of cultural identity. One explanation commonly offered for this trend is that the local is able to recognise and articulate difference in a way that national constructions of place and identity cannot.4

The construction (or ‘branding’) of local place identities is becoming increasingly important in a range of cultural and economic contexts. This trend is related to the contemporary global (re)distribution of capital and an attendant drive on the part of local communities to ‘actively differentiate themselves’ in order to compete successfully with other communities and places for a share of this capital.5 The nation-state is also eroded through a decline in national economic sovereignty and the strengthening of transnational allegiances brought about by global capital flows.6 At the same time, the decline of the nation is seen to promote global frameworks in the organisation of everyday life and the production and consumption of identity.7 The rise of ‘the global’ does not, however, signify a simple dichotomy between ‘the local’ and ‘the global’. Stuart Hall notes that ‘local and regional economies’ have been opened up to ‘new dislocations and new relationships’.8 He argues:

Paradoxically, globalisation seems to have led to a strengthening of ‘local’ allegiances and identities within nation-states; though this may be deceptive, since the strengthening of ‘the local’ is probably less the revival of stable identities of ‘locally settled communities’ of the past, and more that tricky version of ‘the local’ which operates within, and has been thoroughly reshaped by ‘the global’ and operates largely within its logic.9
Tourism is a significant element of ‘the global’ in terms of the cultural and economic reshaping of ‘the local’. With its tendency to commodify place, tourism is one of the driving forces behind the contemporary heightened demand for highly differentiated local communities.10

Local community identity is here understood as the product of an ongoing, cumulative representation of events, landmarks, characteristics and values, which become naturalised signifiers of a distinct and coherent community. In general terms, locality functions as a context for the above practices, rather than as a prior cause or straightforward site of community identity. Local community is certainly not sovereign in the sense that a nation is, just as local community boundaries are often open and fluid. Nevertheless, boundaries of locality provide a measure and marker of difference and ownership. The precise extent of local community refers here to a coherent and intimately knowable location on a scale far smaller than that of the nation.

Despite their sometimes amplified importance, local communities need to be understood as in dialogue with the overarching national identity. Referring to the findings of the majority of ethnographic works on national identification, Ghassan Hage points out that ‘national identity is always mediated by local experience at the level of home, family, village or neighbourhood’.11 Furthermore, as Paula Hamilton has observed, ‘local communities may appropriate the material forms of national commemoration such as war memorials but not necessarily the content, bending the expression of memory to local concerns’.12 While there are significant differences between nation and local community, both are imagined in similar ways. Nationhood, as defined by the sharing of historical territory and common myths, offers a naturalised way of conceiving collective identity. Local communities invent themselves in much the same manner – in order to maintain group cohesion, they need to create and maintain a clear, convincing and authentic public identity. Bauman argues that the ‘self-gestation of a community’ is a selfconscious and actively pursued process.13 Imagining and representing a community identity is significantly undertaken through community-based projects — that is, projects initiated, controlled, and maintained by or on behalf of the local community — which encode a shared historical territory and common myths. Not surprisingly, the sense of a distinct community identity is powerfully produced and circulated in and through the national, if not global, discourse of heritage. Heritage sites not only foreground distinct local identities, they also ground them in valorised locations and events. As central ways of producing and consuming collective identities, both heritage and tourism practices and discourses are increasingly deployed by local communities in the process of configuring viable local community identities, particularly in the struggle for capital, status and security outlined here. While the decisions of shire councils should not be conflated with community, local public tourism and heritage sites are, nonetheless, pivotal projects in the production of an empowered community identity.

Localising national sites

The Princess Royal Fortress (hereafter ‘the Fortress’) in Albany, Western Australia, as it is known today is a heritage and tourism site of great significance to its local community. It was originally an imperial naval defence base completed in 1893. After the coastal defence force was closed down in 1956, the site passed into private ownership. Following several failed attempts to build a tourist resort on the site, the Fortress was vested in the Town of Albany. Vesting the Fortress in the Town of Albany brought it under local council and community control; it transformed a national, out-of-bounds and, for a short while, private site into a local and public place. Acquisition of the Fortress constitutes a turning point in the history of the Fortress and also in the relationship with Albany. Following vestment an ambitious program involving numerous local volunteers was undertaken to restore, develop and manage the site. Today the site offers museum displays, restored gun battery, lookouts, memorials and underground magazine along with restaurant, tea room and recreational parkland.14 Local ownership and development of the site has enabled not only the addition of new features but also the production of an official history of the site published by the local council, A Sound Defence: The Story of Princess Royal Fortress King George III Sound Western Australia, which, together with other local publications, orchestrates and broadcasts the local appropriation and interpretation of a range of historic events. One of the most evocative of these events was the rendezvous in Albany of the ships of the first Australian Imperial Force between 24 and 28 October 1914 carrying ‘30,000 Australian and New Zealand troops’.15 Having loaded up at various ports, the ships were seen together only at Albany,16 an event later locally named ‘The Great Anzac Convoy’. Though the fleet gathered in King George Sound for a mere four days before leaving Australian waters, this event is a significant element in the contemporary local official narrative of Albany and is closely linked to and grounded in the Fortress.

The event is represented locally as having two distinct elements: the massing of the fleet which, then and now, bore ‘eloquent testimony to the natural resources of the port’17 and the departure of the Anzac soldiers. The departure is constructed in recent Albany publications as a powerful symbolic moment — the ‘last sight of home’ — within the larger Anzac narrative. Of particular importance here, is the contemporary emphasis local texts place on Albany, and the Fortress’ role in the rendezvous. The relationship established locally between the Fortress and the Anzac Convoy is strikingly recent. Though it stresses the role of the port in providing ‘perfect security’, an editorial published in the Albany Advertiser as soon after the departure of the fleet as wartime censorship allowed does not mention the Fortress.18 Reprinted in 1999 directly from the original 1915 publication, The Australian and New Zealand Expeditionary Forces: Assemblage and Departure from Albany Western Australia consists largely of photographs of troops marching in the town and describes Albany as ‘fortified’ — however, it does not directly refer to the Fortress. A 1977 locally-commissioned professional history of Albany not only omits the Fortress but describes the town as feeling ‘open and vulnerable, her only shield of protection being the obsolete and almost unmanned fort on Mt Adelaide’.19 In contrast, current local interpretations represent a battle-ready Fortress ably protecting the convoy: ‘It was under cover of the guns that the fleet carrying the soldiers gathered in King George Sound’.20 The official history cites an eyewitness account: ‘“We stared until our eyes hurt”, wrote a gunner called Fred Harris, but the Forts saw no enemies to threaten the convoy’.21


'Victorians Marching, with Transport Fleet in background', The Australian and New Zealand Expeditionary Forces: Assemblage at and Departure from Albany, Western Australia (1915), Albany Advertiser, Albany, 1999, np. Courtesy of Albany Advertiser, Pty Ltd.

The contemporary representation thus establishes Albany as central to the rendezvous and the departure through the provision of a sufficient harbour and as guardian of the Anzac Convoy, enabling Albany to claim a unique, active role in a large-scale, highly valorised, national undertaking. Albany’s role is confidently presented as much more than the passive contribution of soldiers and other everyday local contributions widely generated by the general war-effort. Indeed, this claim has been locally extended in the description of Albany as, for example, a ‘key point in the British Empire as the departure point for Australian troops during World War I’.22 Importantly, at the time the convoy passed through, even though Albany may have been locally thought of as a fortified town, the Fortress was ‘unavailable’ to the community. In the present, however, the Fortress is ‘owned’ by and thus available to the local community, which has a vested interest in promoting its importance. Through the discourses and practices of heritage and tourism the Fortress has become a valuable and versatile resource the local community can use in ways not available immediately after its de-commissioning. The particular value of the Fortress is dependent on the continued circulation of ‘Anzac’ as a cluster of culturally significant meanings. The timeliness and method of appropriating and reinterpreting the gathering of the convoy and its departure is a corollary of a rising, popular interest in the Anzac tradition and legend following a decline in the 1960s and early 1970s.23 Occurring on a national scale through a range of highly successful film and print texts,24 this recent popularisation is marked by a resurgence in participation in Anzac Day ceremonies and marches.25 Though the meaning of Anzac is subject to change and is certainly neither homogeneous nor uncontested, this popular revival of Anzac has involved a rejection of earlier critiques as misguided, if not erroneous,26 in effect promoting a substantively uncritical understanding of Anzac.27 Despite ongoing vigorous criticisms of the selective ideal encoded in the Anzac legend,28 and though its popular meanings may have shifted somewhat — for example in terms of the representation of the imperial alliance — ‘Anzac’ continues in popular circulation as a sacred symbol of a fundamental Australian character based on egalitarianism, endurance, loyalty, initiative and sacrifice. Albany’s claim to an intimate relationship to the first Anzacs (and the Anzac tradition) is supported and strengthened by this broader cultural interest in and reaffirmation of the traditional meaning and ongoing relevance of Anzac. Foregrounding Albany as the site of the first Anzac Convoy not only draws on but also claims a significant place in this ‘common heritage’29 and defining element of what it means to be Australian.

Localising a national myth

A further manifestation of the resurgence of interest in Anzac has been the community building of new war memorials.30 As part of the Town of Albany and Australian Bicentennial Project, the ANZAC Convoy Memorial was built outside the fenced area at the Fortress at the summit of Mt Adelaide. A high point with sweeping views of the harbour, this area is often referred to as the Anzac Convoy Memorial Lookout.31 The memorial is composed of a chest-high pedestal supporting a large information tablet titled ‘The First ‘Anzac’ Convoy Assembles at King George III Sound October 1914’ and featuring a bronze schematic map of the fleet at anchor in the harbour. This map shows the position and name of each of the ships which assembled as part of the first convoy: ‘The ships were anchored in three lines of Australian ships, two lines of New Zealand ships. Each ship was numbered and positioned as shown on the picture’.32 Oriented so that the representation of the islands line up with the real islands clearly visible from this vantage point, the map enables the viewer to easily and accurately superimpose the convoy upon the contemporary landscape. Building this memorial to the ‘first Anzac Convoy’ at the Fortress makes Albany’s role in ‘harbouring’ and ‘guarding’ the fleet highly visible. The presence of the memorial and the foregrounded map of the convoy incorporates the gathering of the fleet not only into the story of the Fortress but also into its landscape and physical experience. The memorial thus ‘grounds’ the ephemeral gathering of the convoy in King George Sound in a tangible, local artefact and site. At the same time, the erection of this pedestal monument identifies and marks the site as an authentic part of, and authenticating factor in, the larger set of cultural evidences, relics and meanings clustered around Anzac.

The particular framing image offered by the bronze map is ubiquitous and virtually unavoidable not only at the Fortress but also in other local, public sites. On display at the Fortress, in a range of buildings and collections, are seven very large panoramic photographs and paintings of the convoy lined up at anchor in King George Sound. A map of the convoy is also reproduced on information leaflets available from the Albany Tourist Bureau and The Princess Royal Fortress Centre for Military History. The assembly and departure of the fleet is thus made part of, and consequently sustained as, the contemporary knowledge and experience of both locals and visitors.33 Through the memorial and also these other reproductions of the convoy at anchor in the harbour a fleeting historical moment continues to frame the view of the harbour along with the perception and experience of Albany.

The memorial offers a point of view only recently available in terms of physical access and location and also in relation to a narrative framework and knowledges available only in the present. According to local texts such as The First Settlement Heritage Trail:
For many of the troops who sailed from King George III Sound during the First World War the views that can be seen from this, and the other First Settlement Trails, were their last glimpses of Australia.34
While Albany is the site of this emotive last and final glimpse of Australia for the soldiers, it is not Albany but Australia that the Anzacs are represented as seeing. In this manner the ‘Australianness’ of Albany is asserted; Albany comes to stand for all that is great and typical about Australia, and all that is worth fighting for. The memorial, however, is not only or even primarily about what those departing soldiers saw; rather, it is about what is seen by those left behind. The memorial constitutes a looking back to a looking back. Albany is represented as the last glimpse of Australia that the departing soldiers looked back and saw, and also as offering a view of the departing Anzacs. The plaque, for example, informs its readers that ‘From 24 October to 28 October the ships of the 1st Convoy assembled here in the waters before you’. Tourist brochures invite visitors, including members of the local community, to take advantage of the ‘commanding’ position on Mt Adelaide and to ‘envisage the Anzac fleet massing before departing for Gallipoli’.35 Visitors are encouraged to see this particular event as a significant moment in Australian history, as the moment the Anzacs came together and thus as the birth of Anzac tradition and the start of an enduring and active element of the Australian national identity. Though the fleet did not travel directly to Gallipoli, this ‘error’ establishes a direct link between Albany, as birthplace of Anzac, and Gallipoli, place of baptism by fire. The gathering and departure of the fleet is the epitome of the ‘Anzac period’ — defined as when the soldiers sailed, as opposed to the landing and retreat at Gallipoli and the increasing disenchantment with the war — which is widely interpreted as a period of harmony and unity, and a high point of Australian community spirit.36


'Victorian Troops passing along the Main Street', The Australian and New Zealand Expeditionary Forces: Assemblage at and Departure from Albany, Western Australia (1915), Albany Advertiser, Albany, 1999, np. Courtesy of Albany Advertiser, Pty Ltd.

This emphasis on the assembly and departure of the Anzac convoy is clearly a commodification of the event, especially in relation to tourism and local status. The first task of the Anzac Convoy Memorial was explicitly ‘to recognise the role of King George III Sound in Australian History’.37 Albany’s valorisation of the event at the same time provides an opportunity to rewrite the widely disseminated national history as produced, for example, by C E W Bean. The Albany rewrite is necessary in order for Albany to have a commodity in the first instance. After all, the fleet merely gathered in King George Sound for four days before leaving Australian waters; this means little until motivated through specific subsequent discourses and contexts. The local perspective articulated through the discourses of heritage and tourism is what marks it as an event worthy of narration in detail in the first instance, just as the contemporary local narrative, itself a commodity, marks the event as significant in the experience of Albany and the formation of a significant and distinct local community identity. The comparative analysis undertaken here is not concerned with the historical or factual truth of the representations discussed, nor is it intended to suggest there are only two versions of this event. Rather, the focus is on differences between local and national narratives in order to examine the specificities and extent of Albany’s appropriation of the event.

The arrival and departure of the fleet is locally narrated to promote the local(ised) experience; Bean’s entry regarding this rendezvous, as it appears in his opus The Story of Anzac, interprets the event rather differently from this local Albany version.38 For instance he describes the arrival and departure of the ‘transport fleet’39 as opposed to ‘The Great ANZAC convoy’ favoured by local texts. Bean’s narrative draws attention to the ‘deep and wide harbour’40 but does not dwell on its uniqueness. Instead, King George Sound is dismissed as ‘better known to travellers in the years before it was supplanted by Fremantle as their regular port of call’.41 Albany is referred to as a ‘small town’ and the bay itself is described as ‘lonely’.42 Bean’s narrative views this ‘smallness’ as a disadvantage and draws attention to the insufficient number of tugboats and the communication difficulties produced by a dearth of facilities at the port.43

Most importantly, The Story of Anzac does not attach any special significance to the assemblage in the Sound; rather, the moment when the Orvieto ‘pulled out from Port Melbourne pier, where the crowd had broken through the sentries and was waving from the wharf’ is hailed as the moment at which ‘The Australian Imperial Force was launched upon its separate career’.44 Bean does not remark upon the special character of this convoy until it has left Albany and is safely in the Indian Ocean: ‘So through the Indian Ocean moved this convoy on a voyage such as was never undertaken before or since’.45 In contrast to the photographs featured throughout the Fortress, the images Bean includes in his text to represent the occasion show the convoy crossing the Indian Ocean. The voyage is foregrounded, just as the Port Melbourne Pier is identified as the place from which this voyage along with the national project it encoded was ‘launched’. It should not be forgotten that these national moments are themselves privileged local experiences in which locality and any attendant specificity are elided in the service of a representative centre.46

The experience of Albany as represented in the local narrative is one of space and the generous hosting of the troops who could rest easy under Albany’s guardianship provided by the Fortress. From Bean’s official national history perspective, the town of Albany was little more than an unimportant, mostly inadequate accessory to the rendezvous point provided by King George Sound. The possibility of interaction between Albany and the troop ships is minimised in Bean’s version: ‘the vessels watered two by two’;47 ‘there was little communication between ships, three or four small tugs and motor launches being all that the port possessed’;48 and ‘No leave had been given to the men in Albany, and General Bridges had therefore on principle refused it to officers’.49 Albany publications, on the other hand, feature photographs of troops marching through Albany and discuss the shore leave and health of the soldiers waiting to ship out.50

Reprinting the 1915 The Australian and New Zealand Expeditionary Forces Assemblage at and Departure from Albany Western Australia allows the ongoing circulation of a sense of local involvement with the troops:
From the first, numbers of troops were landed in detachments of for marching exercise, as many as 1500 coming ashore at one time. With the men came bands and regimental mascots in the form of all conceivable breeds of dogs, and in some instances a march of 10 miles was made. There was a little leave, not much, and really only officers and men with business to transact spent any time in the town. Night and day the scene was one pulsating with life.51
Summed up as ‘the port of concentration’,52 Albany’s role is downplayed in Bean’s national version of the event. This is far removed from the status of ‘birthplace’ of Anzac, as constructed in local accounts.

Though local claims such as those regarding shore leave may be incorrect, the ability to display and broadcast the local version through heritage and tourism documentation and artefacts enables Albany to challenge and compete with the overarching national account. Albany’s rendition of its role in history has attained national legitimation in The Register of Heritage Places: ‘During World War One, Albany Forts was the principal rendezvous for Australian and New Zealand troops departing on overseas service’.53 The massing of the fleet has also been recognised and reported beyond the district in other tourism brochures. The Royal Automobile Club Road Patrol magazine, for example, in its April/May 1999 issue celebrates and promotes this history in an article titled ‘Albany’s Anzac Connections’.54

The importance of local accounts is nationally recognised; the travelling Bicentennial exhibition gave over part of the exhibition area at each town to the local community for the presentation of local exhibits and performances.55 This strategy, however, ensured that local perspectives remained subsumed, or at least framed, by the ‘Sydney view’, the continuing basis and point of origin of the exhibition. Though it derives its importance in dialogue with the larger national Anzac narrative, the Albany version of the massing and departure of the Anzac convoy functions as an independent narrative in that the relationship to the nation is locally determined as one of equality. Albany’s localised rendition serves to empower the local community and anchor its identity in relation to a significant nationalised event, while retaining local independence both as privileged site and context, and as agent in this narrative. This local narrative of the massing and departure of ‘The Great Anzac Convoy’ firmly privileges a specific local view of the event, and of Albany, over the national view.


'Queenslanders returning to Ship after March', The Australian and New Zealand Expeditionary Forces: Assemblage at and Departure from Albany, Western Australia (1915), Albany Advertiser, Albany, 1999, np. Courtesy of Albany Advertiser, Pty Ltd.

Re-inventing tradition

This local appropriation of a significant element of the ‘grand national narrative’, and the privleging of a new originary moment, has empowered Albany to be part of what could be termed the re-invention of the Anzac tradition. In 2001, Albany hosted a ‘Federation Festival’ featuring a nationally televised Anzac Day dawn service. According to an externally produced, evaluative report, the week-long event was ‘an outstanding success’ with an aggregate attendance of over 80,000 people.56 The report argues that an annual ‘icon event’ should be ‘themed’ around Albany as ‘the birth place of ANZAC — being the place where Australians and New Zealanders came together for the first time and went to War together’.57

Albany is thus externally acknowledged as significant place in relation to the formation of this corp and, as a consequence, the Anzacs. In turn, Albany is recognised in the festival report as an ‘Anzac Icon location’. The report stresses that this aspect ‘must’ be developed, ‘planned and built over time leading up to major milestones such as 2014 but with mini highlights on the way’. Albany is thereby invited to participate further in the commodification of this event. The local narrative of ‘The Great Anzac Convoy’ has been effective in that Albany is not only able to participate in and profit from the rising interest in the Anzac tradition, but is also able to stake a claim concerning the tradition itself. The festival report argues that ‘Many new witnesses have no store of internal images to connect to ANZAC — they have to be shown and told and be able to see and hear and be emotionally affected’.58 This draws attention to the current transitional status of the Anzac tradition and myth in terms of their relevance to present and future generations. The insistence on an explicit ‘content’ created through the blending of new concepts with tradition and designed to tell that which can no longer be remembered is an important call for the reinvention of tradition for future audiences. Albany is seen, at least potentially, as a prime contributor of a content (and affective framework) intended to keep Anzac relevant. Moreover, the report specifically encourages the revision of content for ‘youth interest’.59

Albany is thus exhorted to be substantively active in a key moment in the future production and consumption/celebration of Australian national identity (via, for example, the centenary of Anzac in 2014). At the same time, Albany is presented as a site from which to produce a ‘grounded’ experience of Anzac in the present, as a continuation of past experiences through a commemoration located in a distinct landscape figured as birthplace. These are significant, if limited, opportunities. Though ‘the Anzac spirit’ has been likened to ‘an empty box’ which it may be possible to fill with ’new and even radical meanings’,60 the re-invention of the tradition, however and in particular, is constrained by a range of factors. Most obviously, Albany has a vested interest in maintaining the Anzac tradition and myth at the heart of national identity; that is, the reinvention must continue to place Anzac at the heart of what it is to be Australian. Though it cannot be predicted how the significance of Anzac may evolve, it is in Albany’s interests to keep Anzac prominent in what it means to be Australian. Similarly, it will be difficult to make substantial changes to the myth; Anzac must continue to be recognisable to the broad public. In other words, with this opportunity Albany also acquires a duty to uphold the ‘essential truth’ of the Anzac mythos.

While Albany has inflected national myth to forge an empowered and discrete identity, this identity is profoundly dependent on and significantly interrelated with the larger national mythos and identity. The mediation of national identity and reconfiguration of local memory recently undertaken at Albany are best approached as elements of a dialogic process of localisation informing both local and national identity. The local community identity thus produced, however, privileges a national event and myth over local community experience of the site; indeed, local experience is elided in the emphasis on the national connections and relevance. Albany’s production and circulation of a local narrative counters the notion that such narratives inevitably signal what many see as ‘the voice of all those suppressed and marginalised’.61 The official Albany version is, after all, a conservative reproduction of central and dominant aspects of the Anzac narrative, replete with gender inequalities and the comprehensive elision of questions concerning whose land is being defended in the first instance. The visitor to the ANZAC Convoy memorial, in looking back to the Anzacs’ looking back, is positioned at a point of idealised community which precedes later challenges to the Anzac myth itself. Given Albany’s conservative appropriation of this national myth, it could be argued that the rise of local community identity may encode not so much a new inclusive recognition and articulation of difference as a reimagining of broad elements of the existing national identity in new local contexts.


'Departure of the Transports. Picture taken from Breaksea looking west. Ships can be seen disappearing in the distance', The Australian and New Zealand Expeditionary Forces: Assemblage at and Departure from Albany, Western Australia (1915), Albany Advertiser, Albany, 1999, np. Courtesy of Albany Advertiser, Pty Ltd.

Notes

1 Jon Stratton and Ien Ang, ‘Multicultural Imagined Communities: Cultural Difference and National Identity in Australia and the USA’, Continuum, 1994.
2 Zygmunt Bauman, ‘Searching for a Centre that Holds’in Mike Featherstone, Scott Lash and Roland Robertson (eds), Global Modernities, Sage, London,1995, p 153.
3 Cited in Priscilla Boniface and Peter J Fowler, Heritage and Tourism in the Global Village, Routledge, London, 1993, p 193.
4 Bauman, op. cit.
5 David Harvey, ‘From Space to Place and Back Again: Reflections on the Condition of Postmodernity’ in John Bird et al (eds), Mapping the Futures: Local Cultures, Global Change, Routledge, London, 1993, p 8.
6 Stuart Hall, ‘Culture, Community, Nation’, Cultural Studies, no 7, vol 3, 1993, p 354.
7 Mike Featherstone and Scott Lash, ‘Globalisation, Modernity and the Spatialization of Social Theory: An Introduction’ in Mike Featherstone, Scott Lash and Roland Robertson (eds), Global Modernities, Sage, London, 1995.
8 Hall, op. cit.
9 ibid.
10 Marie Lanfant, et al, (ed), International Tourism: Identity and Change, Sage, London, 1995, p 32.
11 Ghassan Hage, ‘Nation-building Dwelling Being’, Communal/Plural, no 1, 1993, p 80.
12 Paula Hamilton, ‘The Knife Edge: Debates about Memory and History’ in Kate Darian-Smith and Paula Hamilton (eds), Memory and History in Twentieth-Century Australia, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, 1994, p 24.
13 Bauman, op. cit.
14 Roger Martin, A Sound Defence: The Story of Princess Royal Fortress King George III Sound Western Australia, Scott and Scott, Alfred Cove, Western Australia, nd, p 37.
15 Town of Albany, The Princess Royal Fortress: The Great Anzac Convoy, Albany, (leaflet).
16 Editorial, Albany Advertiser, Albany, 1914, np; Douglas R G Sellick, ‘The Australian and New Zealand Expeditionary Forces Assemblage at Albany — 1914: The Great Convoy’, Listening Post, vol 17, no1, 1994. This is not entirely accurate; two Western Australian ships were already at Fremantle and joined the fleet after it had left Albany.
17 ‘The Australian and New Zealand Expeditionary Forces: Assemblage and Departure from Albany, Western Australia’, Albany Advertiser, Albany, 1999; Sellick, op. cit.
18 Editorial, op. cit.
19 Donald Garden, Albany: A Panorama of the Sound from 1827, Nelson, West Melbourne, 1977, p 286.
20 Town of Albany, Conservation, Development and Management Programme for the Albany Forts: Final Report, 1984, p 53.
21 Martin, op. cit., p 13.
22 Malcolm Traill, ‘Built to Last (foreword)’ in Built to Last: A History of the Anglican Church of St John the Evangelist, Albany, Western Australia 1848–1998, Albany Advertiser, Albany, 1998, p 9.
23 Alistair Thomson, Anzac Memories: Living with the Legend, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, 1994.
24 K S Inglis, Sacred Places: War Memorials in the Australian Landscape, Miegunyah Press, Carlton South, Victoria, 1998, p 331.
25 Inglis, op. cit.
26 Thomson, op. cit.
27 K S Inglis, ‘Anzac Revisited: Australia, New Zealand and the Anzac Tradition’, Alan Seymour and Richard Nile (eds), Anzac: Meaning, Memory and Myth, University of London, Sir Robert Menzies Centre for Australian Studies, London, 1991, pp 13–20.
28 See Graham Seal, Inventing Anzac, University of Queensland Press, forthcoming 2004, for one such critique.
29 Inglis, Sacred Places, op. cit.
30 ibid.
31 Town of Albany, 1996 Submission.
32 The two ships which left from Fremantle and joined the convoy at sea, one of which carried troops from Western Australia, are not honoured on this map.
33 In 1991 there were plans for an annual celebration of the gathering of the fleet. ‘Forts Fun Day Likely to be First of Many’, Albany Advertiser, May 21 1991, p 5.
34 Town of Albany, First Settlement Heritage Trail: Settlement and Development of the Albany District, Albany, Town of Albany, nd, p 38.
35 Albany Western Australia: Albany Visitors Guide, The Albany Visitor Centre, 2000, p 1.
36 F G Clarke, Australia: A Concise Political and Social History, Sydney, Harcourt, 1992, p 193.
37 Plaque on site at the Fortress.
38 There are of course other national, widely circulated descriptions of this event. Patsy Adam- Smith, for example, in her popular text The Anzacs also describes the gathering of the transport fleet in Albany. She uses the descriptors ‘small’ and ‘lonely’ in relation to the town, though she is flattering in her description of the sound as ‘one of the finest anchorages in the world’ (Patsy Adam-Smith, The Anzacs, Penguin, Ringwood, Victoria, 1978, p 45).
39 C E WBean, The Story of ANZAC from the Outbreak of War to the End of the First Phase of the Gallipoli Campaign, May 4, 1915, Angus and Robertson, Sydney, 1942, p 94.
40 ibid.
41 ibid.
42 ibid.
43 ibid., p 99.
44 ibid., p 95. The AIF is only one half of the fleet assembled in King George Sound in 1914; Bean makes no claim concerning the formation of the ANZAC. According to Bean, the Orvieto was ‘headquarters office of the new army’ (ibid.). It should also be kept in mind that these national moments are themselves privileged local experiences in which locality and any attendant specificity is elided in the service of a representative centre. Chilla Bulbeck notes something similar when she cites ‘Albert Moran (1988) and Peter Spearritt (1980: 148–9) argue[ing] that Sydney has become the cultural capital of Australia, so that “local” content means Sydney content’ (Chilla Bulbeck, ‘A Nation at Last’, Social Sciences in Australia: An Introduction, 1993, p 251).
45 ibid., p 99. He does, however, describe the departing fleet as moving ‘out between the sun-bathed hills to sea’ (ibid., p 98).
46 See Bulbeck, op. cit., p 251.
47 Bean, op. cit., p 96.
48 ibid., p 99.
49 ibid., p 98.
50 There may be some (local) confusion about, or slippage between, the first and second convoys, so the photographs may in fact be of the second convoy.
51 ‘The Australian and New Zealand Expeditionary Forces: Assemblage and Departure from Albany Western Australia’, Albany Advertiser, Albany, 1999, np.
52 Bean, op. cit., p 94.
53 Australian Heritage Commission, National Register:Albany Forts, p 1.
54 Ron Crittall, ‘Albany’s Anzac Connections’, RAC Road Patrol, 1999.
55 Peter Cochrane and David Goodman, ‘The Great Australian Journey: Cultural Logic and Nationalism in the Postmodern Era’, Tony Bennett, Pat Buckridge, David Carter and Colin Mercer (eds), Celebrating the Nation: A Critical Study of Australia’s Bicentenary, Allen and Unwin, St Leonards, NSW, 1992, p 184.
56 Jay McDaniell, Final Report: Federation Festival Albany and Albany Anzac Day 2001, City of Albany, 2001, np. Figures calculated from ticket sales and the distribution of numbered programs.
57 ibid.
58 ibid.
59 ibid.
60 Thomson, op. cit., p 201.
61 Peter Dunn and Lorraine Leeson, ‘The Art of Change in Docklands’ in Jon Bird et al, Mapping the Futures: Local Cultures, Global Change, 1993, p 143.

Originally published in Richard Nile (ed), Rezoning Australia: Journal of Australian Studies no 79, St Lucia, UQP, 2004.

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