CRANKS and TINKERERS, ST MARYS
photographers CRAIG SEARLE and ROB SHAW
I was born and raised in Westbury. In the 1960s, trips to the big smoke – Launceston – were infrequent but often involved a visit to the Queen Victoria Museum and Art Gallery. These visits taught me that museums were quiet, reverential places with an inordinate amount of space compared to the number of exhibits and with conservatively dressed men and women curators constantly on the prowl to ensure nothing was touched.
Not all museums are like that. In fact, to my delight, there is one in the Fingal Valley that is the complete opposite.
Walking in the door of the Cranks and Tinkerers Museum in St Marys, one is immediately struck with how little empty space there is and how much is crammed in. The museum is full of fascinating and interesting old stuff and, rather than silence, you are likely to hear the curator enjoying a joke and a belly laugh with a visitor or, if you are very lucky, playing his banjo.
The owner, creator and curator of this wonderful establishment is 74-year-old retired teacher Ian Summers. I first met him in 1980 when I was sent to Winnaleah District High School to begin my teaching career. While his wife Rita taught at the school, Ian was building their house and filling the role of house husband – in those days a very unusual thing for a man to do. From my first meeting with Ian Summers, his warm, friendly and jovial personality shone through.
I hadn’t known Ian very long when I received a strange call from him. It was 1am when I answered the phone in my Education Department house and heard Ian excitedly imploring me to come to his place straight away. If it had been anyone else, I might have just returned to bed and put the call down to someone affected by alcohol or some other stimulant. But Ian is a teetotaller, doesn’t smoke and is a man of deep faith. This was an unusual invitation but one to take seriously.
I threw on some clothes, jumped into the car and drove the 10 minutes or so to the Summers’ property. As I turned into the driveway, the headlights of the car picked out Ian standing in his backyard next to a small telescope. I parked and walked over to where he stood. “Take a look,” he said, indicating the telescope. I bent down and looked through the eyepiece and have never forgotten the sight that greeted me, Saturn with its rings resplendent.
For someone with an interest in science and astronomy, that first sight of Saturn was wondrous, and the memory of that night has stayed with me. I have never forgotten the moment, or the man who made it possible.
That encounter revealed something of the personality of Ian Summers. Slightly eccentric and extremely passionate, he is a big-hearted man with an unruly, bushy beard, a twinkle in his eye and a smile never far from his lips. He has a prodigious memory for facts, figures and Gilbert and Sullivan lyrics, and is a gifted and engaging storyteller.
Ian likes to greet people with a hug, and when you have been hugged by Ian Summers, you know you have been hugged. He is a difficult man to categorise: artist, musician, raconteur, builder, jack of all trades – all terms that sit comfortably. But it was as a collector that Ian really caught my attention.
He had (and still has) a large collection of classic cars, with old Rovers his favourite, and he can talk to you for hours about the various models and the design features. But Ian did not restrict himself to cars. He collected everything: books, comics, model cars, cameras, pedal organs. I only ever saw a fraction of his collection of old stuff when we climbed into the attic or went looking for something in one of his many sheds. It was all there, but packed away in boxes, cupboards and old suitcases. Waiting.
Ian’s journey eventually saw him end up teaching on the east coast of Tasmania, and it was the village of St Marys that the Summers family decided to call home. An old supermarket was the first and brief home of the St Marys Cranks and Tinkerers Museum in 2008, before the collection was packed up in November 2011 and moved to its present home in the St Marys Railway Station.
The disused station was just the place Ian had been searching for. Finally, all of the old stuff could come out of the boxes and have a home. More importantly, a life’s work of collecting could now be on display for others to enjoy.
. . .
To walk through the doors of this museum is to walk into Ian’s world. He loves old things, and the quirkier the better. This is not a traditional museum with exhibits neatly displayed and categorised. Whilst it may appear haphazard and disordered, Ian can put his hands on any part of it at a minute’s notice. He knows the provenance of every item. His breadth of knowledge is astounding – mention a picture on the wall of a steam locomotive and he will be able to talk knowledgably about the Tasmanian Rail System.
The extent of the collection is staggering. There are Airfix model aircraft, matchbox cars, cameras, typewriters, comics, books, musical instruments. Ian shows me around, and accompanies the tour with a constant, often hilarious commentary. I stumbled upon an “autographed” picture of the Phantom that I had given him many years before. “I’ve got a signed picture of ‘The Last Supper’ here somewhere too,” he says. While I am pondering on who could have signed such a picture, he pulls out some old books that perfectly demonstrate his quirky sense of humour with titles such as Golf Carts of the Third Reich, Why Cats Paint and 1001 Dalmatians Colouring Book.
A group of motor cyclists roar into the carpark and are milling about uncertainly outside the door. Ian breaks off our tour to greet and reassure them. “Come in, it’s all free. I have nothing for sale so I won’t hassle you!” The group come inside and within minutes are gathered around the wooden model of an old Indian motorbike, captivated, while Ian explains how it was made.
Ian specialises in constructing model wooden ships, many of which are now on display in other museums. On the day we visited he was putting the finishing touches to the Lady Nelson. Others sit in various stages of completion in the back room along with still more that have been given to him to finish or repair. The detail in these models is breathtaking.
My journalist friend, Rob Shaw, wanted to get some pictures of Ian with his favourite thing and asked him, “If there was a fire and you could only save one thing, what would it be?”
Ian’s face, normally bright and smiling, clouded over. This was a scenario too awful to contemplate and far too hard a question. He loved everything in the place. So much stuff, what to choose? Eventually he settled on his beloved double bass, an instrument he played in the popular folk group The Shoestring Band for many years. He wandered over to pose with the bass while pictures were taken and the moment he took hold of it he started to play old television theme songs for us to guess the names of: The Flintstones, The Wombles, F Troop. The tunes tripped off his fingers.
This museum is a place where the curator is not there to police the visitors, but to enhance the visit. Be prepared to spend more than a few minutes in the Cranks and Tinkerers Museum; there is much to see and much to recommend it. And particularly for those of my generation, there are so many things that will transport you back to your childhood.
As we were leaving, I mentioned to Ian that I hadn’t noticed any advertising for the museum around St Marys. His response was typically self-effacing. “I don’t like self-promotion. I like people to find me.”
My advice is to take a drive into the Fingal Valley. Go to St Marys. Find him.
Craig Searle is an eighth-generation Tasmanian who proudly hails from convict stock. A teacher for 31 years, he retired in 2011, having spent the last part of his career as an outdoor education specialist. He has a passion for wilderness, remote places and lighthouses and has spent two winters on Maatsuyker Island. He lives in Scottsdale with Debbie, his wife and partner in a lifetime of adventures.
