Changing name, losing history
The Wanganui RSA Club as an independent venue will soon be no more. Even the name will be gone.
Under the roof of the Cosmopolitan Club, the two organisations will share the name Club Metro. Someone’s joking, right? Google Club Metro and see how many thousands of pages appear, to the point where it’s more than just common, it’s boring and ubiquitous. The name is a cliche´ .
Apparently an in-house competition was held via suggestion boxes and Club Metro was the winner. Whoever judged the competition obviously doesn’t get out much.
And what relevance does Club Metro have to the purpose and tradition of the RSA?
The RSA was created for a noble and lasting purpose. Some people have decided that purpose no longer applies and will give their club a name that evokes images of disco balls, gay bars, designer stubble and fitness equipment. Where is the concession to the men and women who have served overseas for their country?
Were the rank and file asked what they thought? Was there real and transparent consultation? Did anyone outside this “Working Together Committee” know what was going on? And are any of the committee members veterans who have seen active service? I bet the answer to all of these is — no. I know that to many of the members this Club Metro thing comes as a complete surprise.
The RSA has dumped its ideals to please a generic crowd and has traded in its vision and values for convenience. Its core function has its roots in a tradition forged on battlefields. There will always be a need for what the RSA stood for, and to delegate that responsibility to its Welfare Trust alone will eventually be to the detriment of the club.
The RSA is selling out so it can still call itself a “club”, even though its primary function has shifted from veterans to bar takings.
It’s a kick in the face to the people who have kept the RSA solvent over decades. It won’t be long before the RSA regulars will cease to patronise Club Metro if they haven’t drifted away already, sensing the demise of the place where they found comrades and a lot in common. Where they could talk about things your average civilian would not understand, believe or even care about. Where old (and young) service men and women could feel at ease. There are those who found emotional support at a crucial time with their like-minded comrades: people who knew what they were going through and could help. Could they could do that in a place called Club Metro?
Obviously it’s time to move on. World Wars, Korea, Vietnam, Malaya, Borneo, East Timor, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan — it’s old news. Let’s have a drink with our new buddies and talk about other things.
Lest we forget? It’s already forgotten.