Capturing old milk bar memories
A FAMED Australian creature is facing extinction. I’m not championing the cause of the mountain pygmy possum nor the northern hairy-nosed wombat, however important ecologically they may be.
For most of the second half of last century, it dominated the suburban street corner, the outskirts of regional cities and the centre of small towns.
But like any threatened species, larger predators encroached on its habitat, fraying its supply chain and wiping it from the landscape.
Some survive but they are no longer in plentiful supply. This retail thylacine is the great Australian milk bar.
For many, it was the first encounter with economic independence. Loose change cobbled together from car con- soles and biscuit tins was gathered up by young hands and exchanged for a bag of mixed lollies.
Licorice bullets, freckles, caramel buds, black cats, fruit sticks, jaffas, clinkers, jelly beans, aniseed balls, spearmint leaves and red frogs were displayed in glass jars or plastic containers. The cornucopia of sugary treats was then hand-picked into white or brown paper bags, a practice almost extinct due to modern health regulations. The sights and delights of the corner shop changed with the seasons. In summer, the whirr of the milkshake maker kicked into gear and the mechanical hum of the ice cream cabinet grew that little bit louder as it coped with the duress of Cornettos and Splices constantly plucked from its subzero compartments. In winter, steam from the tea urn was ubiquitous, blending with the aroma of party pies and sausage rolls slowly drying out in the pie warmer.
Geelong-raised photographer Eamon Donnelly has spent the past decade travelling the length and breadth of Australia, snapping images of milk bars struggling to keep the plastic-flapped doors open and those that have long closed for business,
His corner shop odyssey started when he attempted to return to his childhood milk bar in East Geelong after his family relocated to Highton, only to find it had closed.
Donnelly found the demise of the milk bar was not a Geelong-specific phenomenon. Much like those grainy blackand-white images of the Tasmanian tiger from the 1930s, Donnelly’s work may be the time capsule for a beloved part of Australia slowly fading away.