A Life To Live...

by Israel Kipen

  Part of the crowd at the opening ceremony of the SMORGON FAMILY HOUSE. Sitting from left; Mr. W. Jona M.P., Mrs. & Mr. Victor Smorgon, Mrs. L. Kipen, Sir Zelman Cowen, the author, Lady Cowen, Mr. & Mrs. D. Goldsmith, the Mayor of Hawthorn Councilor Wunderlich and Mrs. Wunderlich, Mr & Mrs. Sam Smorgon.

  At the school’s Annual General Meeting held in November 1981, I gave public notice of my intention to retire, agreeing, however, to accept the Presidency for one more year. I had by then been involved with the school for eighteen years, fifteen of them as President. The time had come for me to withdraw. Had the Wantirna venture succeeded, I would have retired earlier, but I felt morally obliged to resolve the impasse. By the time I did resolve it and saw, as well, a new magnificent property secure in the hands of the College, I felt I would be handing over to new blood an established and well-regarded school.

  In 1982, the College invited a team of educational experts from Monash University headed by Dr Paul Gardner to assess and report on all aspects of the school’s activities. The three-man panel probed deeply into the whole structure and functioning of the institution and presented the School Council with a wide-ranging report that contained both criticisms and recommendations.

  The Annual General Meeting in 1982 elected John Serry to the College Presidency at the head of a newly-elected Council on my assurance that I would not walk out of the school upon his doing so. At that meeting I delivered my final report and a supplementary address which was received with a standing ovation. I had by then completed nineteen years of uninterrupted involvement with the College.

  With the school’s presidency lifted from my shoulders, I enjoyed that year’s summer vacation at our Mt. Martha home. John Serry, however, found the burdens of office overwhelming and after three months, he unfortunately resigned. The action was a serious blow to the new executive and threw it into chaos. Lionel Krongold, as the senior Vice-President, had to stand in as Acting President and deal, among other matters, with the painful issue of the Principal’s continuing employment. Serry’s resignation led, in turn, to David Goldsmith’s retirement in March 1983.

  As a consequence of Goldsmith’s departure, the credibility of the new administration was called into serious question. Each Council member recognised that steps had to be taken to restore public trust and confidence in the school. With this consideration uppermost, I was approached to resume again the leadership of the Council. I was thus placed in an unenviable position. I recognised that if I declined the request to return, I would be blamed for any further unpredictable, and possibly regrettable sequence of events. After considerable agonising, I acceded to the executive’s request on the clear understanding that I would, under no circumstances, stay in office beyond the end of 1983. The condition was accepted, and Lionel Krongold, heaving a sigh of relief, handed over “the ship of state”, himself resigning from the executive shortly after.

  The task that faced me was daunting. Menachem Zimet, Director of Jewish Studies, had, on Goldsmith’s departure, been prevailed upon to step in as Acting Principal. My own first act on resuming the Presidency was to contact Abe Feiglin, former Headmaster of Mount Scopus College, inviting him to come out of retirement and take on the management of the College as interim School Administrator. Within forty-eight hours of my resumption of office, Abe Feiglin was installed. He, too, confronted an unenviable task. But the very fact that a man of his calibre and experience was at the helm of the College gave staff and parents some comfort about the immediate future. Abe Feiglin, in turn, gave of himself unstintingly to restore an atmosphere of calm and confidence to the daily running of the school.

  Having secured Abe Feiglin for the school, I turned next to the delicate task of renegotiating terms and conditions with Michael Pincus who was due to assume the role of Vice-Principal in July 1983. I knew only too well that the events of February and March 1983 might well have decided him against coming. It took much patience and calm persuasion to restore his confidence in his decision and purpose in the steps he had already taken to organise his family’s departure. At the same time, I knew, too, that the installation of a third person within six months as Principal of the College would renew difficulties of adjustment for the staff and uncertainty among parents, but the appointment of a permanent head was a necessity I had to see through. Abe Feiglin stood by the school magnanimously, giving to it all of his accumulated experience, authority and teacher support, these contributing greatly to staff satisfaction. He was equally accommodating when Michael Pincus arrived in early July, stepping back graciously into the shadows to permit the new Principal to establish his authority and style. By common consensus, which incorporated a request by Pincus himself, Abe Feiglin remained at the College until the end of the 1983 school year.

  That same year had been a time of considerable anxiety for all private schools in Australia and for Jewish school in particular. In that year, a federal Labor government was returned under the Prime Ministership of Bob Hawke, while Labor under Premier John Cain also consolidated itself in Victoria. The Federal Minister for Education was Susan Ryan who, as a former spokesperson arguing in favour of the state school system, was not expected to have any particular political or emotional sympathy for private schools. While private schools in general had cause for concern, Jewish school had still more, for, over and above the staff required for the teaching of regular subjects, these also needed substantial numbers of extra teachers for the teaching of Jewish subjects. Categories of schools in terms of entitlement to government assistance were determined by means of a computer-model based on a staff-student ratio. According to the model, most Jewish school, by virtue of their extra staff, thus fell into Category A, in company with the richest and most endowed school. What the model did not allow for, apart from the extra financial demands made by the provision of Jewish studies, was the fact that Jewish school, without exception, were open to every child who wished to attend, irrespective of whether or not the parents could afford to pay. Thus, about 20% of children in all Jewish schools were either given free tuition or received very substantial concessions. These factors in combination imposed severe financial strains upon Jewish schools. When, therefore, Senator Ryan in 1983 announced a 50% cut in subsidies to Category A schools, it augured financial disaster for Jewish schools in particular. As if that action, at a federal level, was insufficient, the State Labor government, too, which shared the federal purse on a dollar-for-dollar basis in subsiding schools’ recurring expenses, began at the same time to cut its subsidies to kindergartens by 75%. Jewish day-schools faced ruin. In response, the Organisation of Jewish Day-Schools in Australia, headed jointly by Professor Ron Sackville in Sydney and Arnold Bloch in Melbourne, geared into concerted action. The Melbourne committee, which consisted of representatives of all Jewish schools of which I was a member, worked hard at the highest levels to persuade the authorities of the specific disadvantages faced by Jewish schools. The issue of subsidies to private schools had become a political issue in the community at large, and, with about 28% of all Australian children attending private schools, the cut-back in those subsidies carried major political and electoral implications for the Hawke Government. It took almost two years for the Ministry of Education to accept our argument supported by exhaustively detailed submissions to keep expenditure in Hebrew studies separate from the school’s general administration costs, so that an equitable comparison of income and expenditure and staff-student ratio could be made for purposes of categorisation of Jewish schools within the broader framework.

  Until the argument was accepted, however, Bialik College in 1983 faced a shortfall in government subsidies for 1984 of $130,000, this amount representing 10% of its annual budget. This was not the only shortfall that confronted it. As the year drew to a close, it became apparent that, as a consequence of the disruptions earlier in the year, 1984 would see a sharp and larger than expected decline in student enrolments. The ensuing loss of revenue from this source combined with the reduction in subsidies foreshadow
ed a deficit for 1984 of $250,000.

  Bearing in mind that, at the end of 1983, I would be handing over the reins to a new management, I wanted to ensure that I was not leaving it with an insupportable burden. Also, Bialik College could ill afford to accept a deficit of a quarter-million dollars. Hence, I called for a detailed review of existing and projected staff-student and class-pupil ratios, and, on analysing the information received, I saw that there was room for economy. When, however, I called the executive together to discuss the budgetary forecasts for 1984 and presented Michael Pincus with my figures, he flatly refused to put my recommendations into effect. Pincus had by then been in Australia only a few months and did not yet appreciate the particular conditions under which we functioned. He believed that if he stood firm and defended his staff, the executive would in time find the ways and means to bridge the enormous financial gap which stared at us from our documents. That meeting ended in deadlock. When we convened again – I had meanwhile talked in private with both Pincus and Zimet – Pincus conceded to reducing staff by one and a half teachers, but no more. Further explanation, reasoning and pleading with him at both this meeting and at a third held in November on the eve of my retirement failed to budge him. While there was not a shadow of doubt in my mind that at least four or five teachers could be stood down through a re-organisation of classes in 1984, he refused to countenance even this compromise. In the end, after much debate, a motion was moved to accept the Principal’s staffing figures. It passed with my sole dissenting vote. With that decision, I told the executive, it had that day bankrupted the school. Most of the members there knew in their heart of hearts that I was right, while I left the meeting with a sense of doom. My twenty years of service to the College left me with no illusions of the ultimate implications of that decision.

  The Annual General Meeting that year was a muted affair. I stepped down and the Presidency passed to Jeff Mahemoff. He had by then had a long association with Bialik College as a member both of the Council and the executive. It must be stated that he had not been a member of the executive in the latter half of 1983 and that, therefore, he had played no part in the decisions of the out-going committee. He thus inherited a burden resulting from a vote taken by others, the consequences of which they would not need to shoulder.

  In the attempt to raise funds, an early effort was indeed made by the new executive. A specific chairman to plan and launch an appeal was appointed and elaborate plans were outlined. But little eventuated. This failure seemed to seal the financial fate of the school. What was more, my predictions made in 1983 materialised in 1984 with accelerated speed. When I left, the school’s overdraft on existing accounts stood at $150,000. A further sum of $120,000 was kept in a separate account to cover teachers’ holiday pay. The $300,000 put aside from the sale of the Wantirna land and ear-marked for the building of a sports pavilion was safely invested and brought $35,000 per annum. The picture 12 months later at the end of 1984 was different. The College now owed the bank $427,000, and by the time the executive presented its forecast for 1985, it faced a further deficit of more than $400,000. With every month that passed in 1985, the situation grew more desperate, and, to resolve it, Bialik College had only two viable options. These were either to close the school altogether or to amalgamate with the only other school that could absorb its financial troubles. As total closure was unthinkable, delicate and covert negotiations were undertaken over a period of three months with Mount Scopus College. The proposed amalgamation of the two schools was made public by Mr Phil Symons, President of Mount Scopus College, on July 1, 1985, at a monthly meeting of the Victorian Jewish Board of Deputies.

  Resigned to the inevitability of the situation, Bialik’s executive and Council had to face the parents and reveal the well-kept secret of the school’s financial straits and, in addition, the prospect of its proposed amalgamation with Mount Scopus College. The president’s report fell like a bombshell upon the parents. They were dismayed at the news but, to the executive’s surprise, did not accept the amalgamation as inevitable. Some parents rejected the notion altogether and chided the executive for not taken them into its confidence much earlier. Three parents in particular stood out against amalgamation. They were Mark Blankfield, Leigh Goldbloom and Steve Horton, who urged that any action on amalgamation be postponed, pending discussion by a group of parent volunteers and elaboration of a possible solution. At this, a committee consisting of 25 parents was formed with the express purpose of saving the school’s identity and independence. They undertook to return with alternative proposals within one month. They proved as good as their word and subsequently presented an elaborate, complex and foolproof scheme of solving the school’s financial troubles. The scheme was based on a two-pronged action. They proposed, first, that a minimum of 171 parents commit themselves to a five-year advance payment of fees in co-ordination with a bank, and, second, that an appeal be set in train to raise one million dollars over the same period. The scheme was ingenious, the arithmetic correct and the commitment to it highly enthusiastic. While the scheme was being devised, this new volunteer committee prepared the ground to gain from the parents a positive response, while the executive kept Mount Scopus College abreast with developments. Much to everybody’s surprise, the required number of parents promptly signed the new fee arrangement, thereby putting new heart into the dispirited and dejected executive. With one leg of the rescue operation so successfully attained, the College decided to turn to the community for funds. Buoyed by parent backing and with excellent and open publicity, it set itself a timetable of four weeks to raise the required one million dollars. Within that month, the appeal committee, headed by Goldbloom, raised $1.2 million from less than 200 donors. The College was saved.

  This remarkable drama played out in full public view, through the pages of the weekly Australian Jewish News, thrilled parents, School Council and the Jewish community alike. Contained within the story were more than one lesson for the Melbourne Jewish community which has never failed any worthwhile cause directed towards its self-preservation and advancement. The most important lesson of all, as I saw it, was the existence within the younger generation of a wealth of talent and sense of public responsibility that could with such élan and dedication galvanise it to action in an hour of need. Ability, coupled with sincerity, and topped with youthful energy created a heady brew to inspire in any community a belief in its self-worth and capacity for continuity and renewal. For communal workers of my age, this was the greatest gift I could ever have wished to receive.

  The finale to the Bialik saga to this stage proves the old Hebrew adage that “there is nothing that stands in the way of the will”. It must be recorded that Jeff Mahemoff as College President was the decisive factor in the last-minute turn-around in the school’s fortunes. He found in himself the strength and endurance to lead under very demanding circumstances and to him is due to a large degree the credit for the success of the communal appeal.

  16

  1961-86

  As is clear from the previous chapter, my main communal preoccupation between 1963 and 1983 revolved around Bialik College. Also, in 1963, at the behest of Lily Solvey, I served as President of the United Jewish Education Board’s Annual Appeal. The Board then had greater communal validity and a much wider body of adherents and supporters than today. The Appeal was launched in the presence of the Victorian Minister of Education, Mr Bloomfield, and set a record in the moneys raised. Midway through the Appeal, I took ill and was compelled to withdraw.

  With regard to my business concerns, the 1960s were a time of intense activity and readjustment. As anticipated, my involvement with Coles progressively declined and I set to manufacturing men’s and boys’ knitwear for the wider Australian market. The nature of business at large also changed. Emphasis on mass production of a few basic lines was giving way to a more specific market orientation which required an awareness both of trends in fashions and of the technical ability to produce the required merchandise at the right t
ime. This, in turn, involved a constant investment in new machinery to satisfy the particular demands of the market, the establishment of a distribution network with representatives in all states and in country areas, and a new assertiveness. Having by then been so steeped in the production of basic merchandise, and having little artistic flair for fashion, I continued to produce basic lines in men’s wear. In favour of this approach was the fact that such merchandise did not tend to date. However, if one had the flair and was attuned and ready with the right product to the call of the market, the remunerative rewards were usually greater, provided one knew also when to withdraw a given line. My goods received a good reception, their reputation for quality became firmly established and their penetration into the market was rapid. Being free, between 1960 and 1963, of any communal leadership responsibilities, I was able to concentrate on building up the new arm of my business. I travelled a great deal, met major buyers and assisted sales agents wherever they were. With Sydney accounting for the largest market, I visited the city often and established sound relations with leading people in the knitwear trade. It was gratifying to me that, during the ‘sixties, my productive potential was pushed to capacity to meet demand and that throughout that decade I did not know a single slack period, and this despite the fact that 1961 was a year of recession.