“Known from its inception as the Queanbeyan and District Soldiers’ Memorial, as country town monuments go, at 11 metres high, it’s an impressive one,” writes “Yesterdays” columnist NICHOLE OVERALL. 

WHEN the towering column of polished volcanic stone was revealed a 100 years ago it was almost one-of-a-kind in the nation.

In 1923, a decade after the declaration of Canberra as the national capital, its almost century-old neighbour Queanbeyan claimed a population of 2632.

The town’s new war memorial, funded through the collective efforts of its community, bore testament to the 524 locals who gave of themselves, including the 66 who died, in the catastrophic cauldron of World War I.

That significant summer Saturday occasion, on December 15, 1923, with the Acting Prime Minister, leader of the Country Party and returned serviceman, Dr Earle (middle name, Christmas) Page performing the honours, also marked the birth of another local icon.

Dawn Calthorpe’s arrival was acknowledged by her proud dad, Harry, to the large crowd gathered around their hometown’s latest centrepiece and which included his business partner, WG Woodger, secretary of the organising committee. The duo would make it into the history books as the first agents to market land leases in Canberra from 1924.

In celebrating her own centenary, Dawn shared with me that she has fond memories of watching the wider area evolve around the “valuable and beautiful” addition that initially stood alone at the very top of the regional centre’s civic heart.

Known from its inception as the Queanbeyan and District Soldiers’ Memorial, as country town monuments go, at 11 metres (36 feet) high, it’s an impressive one.

It was among the earliest to be erected, just five years on from the official conclusion of the scarring conflict (the first, a simple granite obelisk, was in Adelaide in September, 1915).

Given their various incarnations – from statues to honour rolls, parks to halls – estimates suggest there’s one for approximately every 40 Australians who died (more than 62,000 fatalities in total).

Though each is unique in their own form of commemoration, many of the monuments bear similar designs: one of the most familiar, the lone Digger atop a plinth, often with head bowed, others looking with hope towards the rising sun.

Some of the notably distinctive include the 243km Great Ocean Road built by returned soldiers and referred to as “the world’s largest war memorial”, while Berridale in the Snowy Mountains features a relatively rare crucified Christ, unique for the feet being side-by-side rather than crossed.

It was the grieving townsfolk who decided – and paid for – their own memorialisations.

There was much debate among Queanbeyanites about how best to offer tribute: a hospital wing, an agricultural hall, perhaps even “swimming baths”? (There’d similarly be discussions following World War II, a swimming pool eventually agreed upon, opened in 1966).

The appointed committee wanted to “make it something really worthy of the town and district… and in deference to the wishes of the mothers and next-of-kin”.

The elaborateness and scale of memorials also offered an indication of local prosperity. In Queanbeyan’s case, the almost 1000-pound cost (more than $90,000 in today’s terms) confirmed its position at the turn of the 20th century as “the wealthiest district in the colony”.

Fundraising efforts included a “monster procession, sports meeting in the park and a big concert” as well as a fancy dress carnival, declared “one of the biggest days Queanbeyan has known”.

In a moment of much anticipation and another first for the town, the foundation stone was laid on April 14, 1923, by Governor-General Lord Henry Forster, who’d himself lost two sons to the war.

Thereafter, on the solitary site selected for its prominent position (now a “memorial precinct”) – and another year before it would also host the first purpose-built Council Chambers – there arose “one of the finest of its kind in the state”.

Dawn Calthorpe (Waterhouse) is one of the many people who have asked me about our regional version’s “unfinished” appearance and if anything was intended to sit upon it. 

While others, such as those at Cronulla, Manly and Burra in SA do have features at their peak, for Queanbeyan it seems simple elegance was always the intention.

In the end, whether grand or intimate, in recognising there was no pocket of our nation left untouched, each acts as a personalised marker to memories and patriotism, often serving as substitute graves, and an acknowledgement of the sacrifice and tragedy of war.

And 100 years on, these poignant reminders of “lest we forget” remain timeless.

There are more of Nichole’s columns at citynews.com.au and more of her historical writing at anoverallview.wixsite.com/blog