John Cleverley’s Long March

In memoriam for our old friend, scholar, wise man, and neighbour of 20 Watkin Street.

John Cleverley was a stalwart of many battles with Council, and indeed, with any overbearing and presumptuous authority. At his funeral service, his brother told the story of how his dad sent him to participate in the school nativity play dressed not in shepherd garb, but in the white shirt and red scarf of Mao’s little pioneers.

Adele and I first met John during one of those numerous stoushes we had with the now defunct South Sydney Council, and were good friends ever since. For many years, I would entertain his many Chinese visitors with a formal presentation on accounting in a publishing company. Whenever I would encounter John in the street, we would have a good yack about Australian politics, the doings of the Tories, and the manipulations of the Murdoch empire.

John lived a full and colourful life and left a very large footprint. The obituary tells a great story.

John Cleverley

JOHN CLEVERLEY 1931-2014    

Education Academic Reached Out To China

John Cleverley, formerly pro dean of the Faculty of Education at the University of Sydney, first visited China in 1972. He was an organising member of the first study tour led by Australian UNESCO education chairman, Professor of education Bill Connell. This group, the first delegation of Australian educators to visit China, was there when the Whitlam government recognised the People’s Republic of China. China was an abiding interest for the rest of Cleverley’s life.

John Farquhar Cleverley was born on June 4, 1931, in an England at peace, but ravished by the Depression. His early years were at Lime Grove in London, from which he was evacuated in 1939 at the outbreak of war. His education started at Lime Grove Preschool, which was followed by Canon Lane Elementary School and later the John Lyon School in Harrow, an endowed grammar school.

Cleverley began work in a cottage industry and progressed to be an office boy in publishing. His decision to migrate to Australia in 1949 with a £10 berth (halved as he was under 18), was fired by his reaction to post-war Britain. He once posed the question: “Why should the accident of status and birth accord status and arrogance?” He believed people should be their own masters, was uninterested in army service to uphold the Empire and hoped for a reconstructed world after the horrors of the war.

In Australia he became a grocery assistant, Commonwealth public servant and a sales representative in publishing. Although unaligned politically he actively opposed the Communist Dissolution Act Referendum in 1951. He wanted a better, fairer more just society based on social inclusion and the free exchange of ideas.

UIn 1951 Cleverley set out on a program of “self-improvement” which continued throughout his life. He took classes at Sydney Technical College, took the NSW Leaving Certificate, matriculated for university entry in 1954, and supported himself by working in a printing foundry at night.

He entered primary teacher training at Balmain Teachers College in 1952 and became president of the Student Representative Council in 1953. He taught at Randwick, Balmain Demonstration and Woollahra Public Schools (in the latter teaching the opportunity class) while he pursued part-time studies at the University of Sydney. In 1958, he married Cecily Kearney.

Work in teacher education followed at Wagga Wagga Teachers College, where the family moved in 1960, before a stint in the Commonwealth Department of Education supporting Colombo Plan students.

At the University of Sydney he systematically pursued his undergraduate and post-graduate studies – a BA, MEd (Hons), and PhD. He moved to Monash University in 1965 then back to Sydney in 1972 to teach international and comparative studies in education and to help Connell to organise the now famous China education study tour of 1972.

Another tour followed in 1976, then many others, as well as many personal visits, often instigated by the Chinese. As a result, Cleverley developed a prodigious network of institutional and personal contacts from which a sustained program of outreach and exchange grew.

With the establishment of the pioneering Sydney University China Education Society (SUCES) in 1972 and under Cleverley’s careful guidance, educational and cultural exchange between China and Australia flourished.

SUCES morphed into the University of Sydney China Education Centre (Australia) in 1986. Cleverley imprinted his view that the society/centre was an apolitical grouping that saw cultural exchange as a public good. Much of what the group did was enlivened by Cleverley’s commitment to “people to people” contact and exchange. This gave the group strong capacity to reach out and host Chinese students and visitors in Australian homes and help them to engage with the Australian community.

Cleverley saw this as a different but successful “relational” approach for sustained success, antithetical to the current “transactional” norm focused on short-term dollar returns. The benefits and value of such exchange have been recognised by successive Chinese ambassadors to Australia.

SUCES received its first guest “worker, peasant, soldier” Chinese students who were studying in Canberra in 1973/4. Then a famous group came in 1979. It was known in China as “Aobang” (The Australian Gang) and in Australia as the “Gang of 9” and the members primarily studied literature or linguistics.

When the group returned to China, six of them established Australian Studies Centres in their home universities. In 2009 there was a 30-year celebration in China of this group and Cleverley was invited and honoured there. Over the years he was appointed an honorary professor at East China Normal University, Jiangxi Agricultural University, Shanpou University and South China Normal University, positions he held until his death.

The education centre, led by Cleverley (who was promoted to professor and married Margaret Teo in 1986) until his retirement, became well-known in educational circles in China and Australia, in Commonwealth and state education departments and by the Chinese Ministry of Education and the consulate in Sydney. It brought prestigious visiting scholars to speak at the University of Sydney, ran cultural exhibitions and displays, obtained grants for cultural exchange, published books and newsletters, held conferences, and was supported by a loyal following of Australian and Chinese associates.

As well as his work with China, Cleverley developed a national social studies curriculum in Papua New Guinea with Gerald Johnston and Roger Hunter. He also did some educational consultancy work in Thailand.

When a new building was proposed and planned for the Faculty of Education at the University of Sydney, Cleverley was called on to oversee the project. The outcome (opened in 1993) gave the faculty excellent facilities, but this was not without rancour. Access to some of the building space was fiercely coveted by some outside the faculty. The battle was won but not without challenge but the Faculty of Education’s position was ably carried by Cleverley.

Cleverley was also active in supporting opportunity for indigenous Australians at the University of Sydney, especially through the Aboriginal Teachers Aides (ATA) program offered through the Koori Centre. In 1983 he was invited to take management responsibility for this program which, though 10 years old, had been poorly funded and was barely viable, running heavily on goodwill and dedication.

His view was that the “disadvantages and disabilities facing Aboriginal people were historic and continuing, and this was indisputable”. For Cleverley the ATA program represented a major social equity initiative. He championed the Koori Centre before and after Commonwealth funding was forthcoming in 1990, and led it until his retirement in 1993.

Cleverley contributed significantly to teaching, scholarship and research in a number of education fields especially in comparative and international studies, particularly Chinese education. At the time of his death two additional works on China were approaching completion. These will be carried to publication by his close colleagues.

John Cleverley is survived by Margaret, children Anne, Helen, Jane, David and Elizabeth, seven grandchildren and his many students, colleagues and friends.

John Barclay

Sydney Morning Herald December 17th 2014

http://www.smh.com.au/comment/obituaries/obituary-education-academic-john-cleverley-reached-out-to-china-20141216-1261wn.html

Yuri The Storyteller … we’ll sure miss the old bastard!

No man could kill him – but his heart did. Anon

My old friend and Huldrefolk founder member, George Hofsteters, Yuri The Storyteller, passed away peacefully in his sleep yesterday morning, 9th July 2014.

Passing strangest is Yuri’s passing. He had such a life force. He was a force of nature, even, the kind of person you’d think would outlive us all. And it was ironic that he who raged so long against the establishment should go so quietly into the night. I would have expected a contrarian like Yuri to have been lynched by a mob of irate god-botherers.

Yuri’s departure brought me back to the dying decades of the last century, when the shadowy and iconoclastic HuldreFolk appeared out of nowhere with their unique combination of stories and songs, and then almost as suddenly, disappeared into the mists of memory.

I was playing at the celebrated Three Weeds Folk Club in Rozelle in the spring of 1983, performing a cover of Roman poet Meniscus Diabetes‘ popular song Roman Holiday.  I was distracted by a cackling in the front row; and there was Yuri, laughing his head off. After my set, we got together and swapped notes on life, the universe and everything. Fate would have it that celebrated bandurist Victor Mishalow was also on the bill that night. And Yuri and I were enthralled by the magic of the Carlingford Cossack’s grand instrument.

Yuri told us he was a Russian Storyteller, and that he was performing at the Humanist Society the following Tuesday. “Come along and play some songs and tunes”, he said. And so we did. Yuri enthralled us with his spirited rendering of Alfred Noyes’ The Highwayman.  And it was there, in Shepherd Street, Surrey Hills, that HuldreFolk was born. Over the next two years, HuldreFolk, named for the mythical and mystical ‘hidden people’ of Icelandic legend, played throughout Australia.

One such occasion was the very first time I visited Coffs Harbour, a seaside graveyard with lights on the mid north holiday coast of New South Wales, sometimes known as the Costa Geriatrica (as fate would have it, we now live in the forest some forty clicks away from there). Looking for a parking space outside the venue, Yuri cut into a space ahead of a car that had already bagged that spot. A few minutes later, the occupants of the car approached us, looking mean and moody. Tall, broad and hairy, they looked like bad news. Yuri was unperturbed. “My mate Paul is a black belt in karate”, he chirped …

On a return visit to Coffs Harbour, he and Victor Mishalow got a gig performing on the back of a flatbed truck in the mall for a smattering of disinterested passers-by. When they’d finished, the organiser asked Yuri how much they wanted, “Two hundred dollars”, Yuri said. Before the paymaster could reply, Yuri added: “Each!” And they got it.

Yuri could be a proper bastard sometimes.

Although HuldreFolk pursued their own paths and projects, during the following decades, they would pop up in unexpected places, like their namesakes, in ones, twos, threes, and on occasions with guest HuldreFolkies. Their last outing as a trio was in October 2007 at the North By Northwest Poetry And Folk Club. Google the videos on YouTube.

Such was his energy, after a series of concerts, I’d need several months away from him to recover. Whenever we had to do a road trip, Yuri would tell jokes non-stop – it was as if they were on a loop. Once he’d finished his repertoire, he’d automatically start again.

Whenever HuldreFolk worked together, their collaborations were creative and at times, crazy.

Listen to Victor’s haunting bandura arrangements behind many of Yuri’s stories, the bravado of ‘The Ballad of Boreslav’ and the wackiness of ‘The Song Of The Volga Shearers’. Back in the day when I was performing ‘I Still Call Mongolia Home’, ‘Brave Goliath’, and ‘Roman Holiday’, Yuri would say: “There has never been as song about the Spanish Inquisition. Why don’t you write one”. Or, “How about a song about the Vikings?” The rest, of course, is hysterical.

We would always introduce George as “The One And Only Yuri The Storyteller”. Watch him on You Tube reciting the epical ‘McArthur’s Fart’ or the poignant ‘Claudy’, and telling the magical story of ‘The Algonquin Cinderella’ or the faerie ‘Green Lady’, and you will see that he really was.

Goodbye old friend.

Blast from the past

On 28th October 2013, Yuri posted on the HuldreFolk Facebook page:

Hi, Amigo!

You’ve done a great job on the Huldrefolk page, I’m with you 100% and will support at every opportunity. Could not be on your side more if I was Eddie Obeid. Now here comes the ‘but’. It’s only a tiny elephant in a big room.

It’s been quite a while since we’ve trod the boards together. Obviously neither of us will get the applause or the audiences we once had and sensibly, we should be content to let someone else drive the celebrity bus. We once had the opportunity to be bigger than the Kingston Trio and Tiny Tim together, but the choices that were made ensured we would never be plagued by the paparazzi. Yet I do believe we have influenced others with the idea we once spearheaded. Story, song, music are being metamorphosed in countless variations. I’m glad we had something to do with that.

Today, however, I’m puzzled at why one would go to the trouble of going to the ‘Pet Cemetary’ of entertainment to resurrect on social media a tired old dinosaur that is hardly remembered, let alone noticed by all but a small coterie of moth eaten folkies whose perception of “Macarthur’ is deemed akin to ‘high culture’. Traditional folktales, I’m afraid, will always belong in the musty archives and forgotten bookshops. They are a relic. Fossils belong in museums. But then, being the sentimental bastard that my nature dictates me to be, I hope you get something nice and rewarding for your efforts. If it’s sentiment before oblivion, light the fuse. Cheers!

Yuri’s race had less than a year to run when he penned this piece.

In many ways, he was right – a cruel man but fair, as they say.

But what times we had!