The Army in Silverton

History: How the Army came to Silverton.

Captain George Phillips came to the booming settlement of Silverton in the year 1884. He trudged the dusty miles from Wallaroo in the springtime, doubtless dreaming of the green vales and hills of his Welsh homeland. Captain Phillips was only 17 years old when he was appointed to evangelise the “Silver-town”, and there was much work for the young Captain to do.

These were the days before Charles Rasp had made his historic and lucrative find on the “broken hill” some 20km south-east of Silverton. Small mining communities had sprung up at Umberumberka, Day Dream, Purna-moota and other places, producing a stream of wealth not yet surpassed by that which was to be found on the “broken hill”.

Not long after his arrival, Captain Phillips drew attention to his presence in town by holding an open air meeting on 16 October, 1884. Not everyone was happy about this, and the local newspaper, the Silver Age contained scathing condemnation for this apparent irreverent body of “believers” from one of its contributors. It appears that The Salvation Army’s first attempts at evangelism in Silverton were rather unprofessional and crude, with the result that the community considered it to be a vulgar and blaspheming body of people who crudely referred to holy things in a language way too familiar for Divine purposes. The writer in the Silver Age makes the point that if the Army’s “exhibitions” were to be recognised as religion, then it would be better for all if the community was allowed to “glide into free thought or unobtrusive atheism ... as quietly and as quickly as possible.”

These scathing attacks, however, did not deter Captain Phillips from his mission. The open-air meetings continued, and the patrons of the Nevada, the Royal and De Baun’s Silverton Hotel had much to talk about in the public bars. 

The Salvation Army did not just talk about their faith – they demonstrated it, too. Life in a water-starved town like Silverton meant that typhoid fever was an ever-present threat. Most who succumbed to the disease were buried in shallow graves and covered with pieces of iron to stop the dingoes and wild dogs from digging them up. When the wife of a local publican died from typhoid, Captain Phillips ignored the strained relationship he had with the man and offered to help in any way he could. The distraught publican asked if the Captain could make a coffin for his deceased wife, and having had experience in carpentry, the Captain promptly made the casket and afforded the woman a decent burial. 

From then on the Captain enjoyed a more friendly relationship with the publican, and I’m sure with many others who had previously been narky towards him. In fact, the community was beginning to notice that this particular and peculiar band of Christians were actually practising what they preached, and doing good works that other “... practitioners (of religion) did not like to meddle with for fear of soiling their hands.” And so a kind of semi-toleration for The Salvation Army developed in and around Silverton. The Silver Age even kept the locals informed about the developments within The Salvation Army on the other side of the world, often reporting events of controversy involving the Army, its General, William Booth, and his son, Bramwell, in London.

Captain George Phillips left Silverton in 1885. Captains James Lee, Jean Sim, Margaret Reardon and Eva Messner followed in quick succession, and by 1888-89 fellow Salvationists from Broken Hill (having had their corps officially opened in 1887), began to join with the Silverton Salvos for special occasions. One such occasion was New Year 1889, and the local newspaper made this report:

“The Salvation Army assembled at about 11pm and judging by their shouts and the wild playing of the band, (consisting of a drum and euphonium), one could not imagine but that they were heralding the approach of the infant year with feelings of great joy and gladness. The other religious bodies had not arranged any special services. As 12 o’clock was announced, hand shakings and appropriate wishes were indulged in and from several quarters came the sound of the old chorus ‘Auld Lang Syne,’ whilst fireworks were also frequently let off by some of the juveniles. It is satisfactory to record the almost complete absence of the ‘rough’ element.”

An army Barracks was built on the corner of Thackaringa and Gipps Sts, and was later removed to Broken Hill by jinker in 1900 by A.F. Pincombe. The site is now covered by drift sand and saltbush, but in its time was a prime piece of real estate which boasted one of the few corner street lamps scattered around the township. 

Future officers included Captain Agnes Hoare, Lieutenant Allpress, Captains Ella Simpson, Harriett Wilby, Millie Hyslop, Martha Latta and Ed Shanheen up until 1893. They may have each expressed the following sentiment:

We’ve go no velvet cushioned pews – 

Our Soldiers don’t require them; 

Our hearers always keep awake because we never tire them!

With the rapid expansion of the community at Broken Hill and the increased work opportunities available at the bigger mine there, coupled with the decline of mining in Silverton, many of the Salvationists packed up and headed for Broken Hill, linking with the corps there. The history book may have closed on the corps in Silverton, but today we honour those early Salvationist who, with zeal and endeavour, ensured that the work of God through The Salvation Army would continue on throughout successive generations, and we stand here today as a testimony to their dedication and commitment to God and to The Salvation Army. Much of what The Army has been and is now in Broken Hill is a result of their honest witness.