Farrago is one of the University’s most well-known student publications. However, when it started just over 100 years ago, it was the new kid on the block, standing with literary mainstays like the Melbourne University Magazine. How did it make a name for itself? Well, they got into the middle of a massive campus wide controversy. In its end of year reflection in 1925, Farrago stated ‘we have had to face a great deal of criticism in this, our first year of publication—more, perhaps, than our share. But the last laugh is ours. We know that if the University criticises, it reads’.

Now, it’s a little unclear, but it seems that before 1913, formal academic gowns (like those worn by colleges and people graduating) were required when attending lectures and going to libraries. The statute requiring them to be worn had been suspended for 12 years before 1925, for an unspecified reason.

In the middle of May 1925, the Committee of Melbourne University Women came to the decision ‘that the wearing gowns by undergraduates at the University was desirable’. The Student Representative Council (SRC) was to vote on it early in the next semester, which was expected to represent more of the student body. 

Attended by 600, the ‘turbulent meeting’resulted in a five to three majority against gowns. This meeting was inconclusive because of the many fervent supporters both for and against gowns who kept writing passionate letters to University admin. A Special General Meeting of Students was called to ‘finally’ answer the gown question.

On 12 June, an unnamed reporter wrote an article in favour of wearing formal gowns. This reporter claimed, ‘there is a strong body of opinion favouring the resumption of the old custom’, and they listed many reasons why it would be okay if the rule were once again enforced. Two weeks later, an anonymous letter to the editor was published in Farrago, stating ‘we wish to draw attention to those University students who are using the press to voice their own views on university affairs. During the recent gown controversy, columns … gave the opinions of the particular reporter as being those of the majority of students … Surely the true facts of the case should be presented’. A division between the Farrago editors and the majority of the student body was becoming evident. 

The Farrago editors began to publish both pro and anti-gown content in the next issue: ‘A prominent Ormond student has obstinately persisted in wearing his gown at lectures. It is assumed that he wishes to identify himself with the women students’. They published a pro-gown poem suggesting banning the gown would be throwing away an ancient tradition, students would become so focused on fashion that no work would be done, and the decision would be regretted. While obviously hyperbolic, the argument was valid: if you throw away the ancient traditions of a sandstone university, will it still be prestigious? The answer today is obviously yes. The materials used to make the buildings and their age now determines the prestige.

However, when all the buildings were new in 1925 (Old Arts hadn’t even been built yet), it was a difficult question. Was it worth throwing away a meaningless yet symbolic centuries-old tradition? Could a group of men accept something a group of women had proposed? What was Farrago’s role supposed to be in all this, an unbiased news source or a platform for amplifying the voice of its writers?  

The Special General Meeting was attended by over 1000 students. The question of Farrago’s bias was at one point brought forth, to which Randall Heymanson, Farrago’s first editor, replied they were ‘students and were entitled to express their views’. After the ‘disorderly’ meeting that ‘reflected little credit on the open-mindedness and fairness of a considerable section of students’, gowns were once again voted against by the student body.

That issue of Farrago featured many student letters discussing the meeting and gowns. One student, claiming to be ‘a visitor from Timbucktu’, said ‘so god-like were the intelligence of those at the meeting that no words were necessary… a low growl that my noble friend told me was called ‘booing’ was all that was required’. Another student stated the wearing of gowns was ‘both antiquated and effeminate’.

Over the next few issues, the SRC secretary and the president of the Trinity College social club, Mr. Mayman, began arguing about the validity of the SRC’s reports regarding student opinion on gowns sent to the University Council. Where did they argue? Pretty much exclusively through letters sent into Farrago. Mayman accused the SRC secretary, Mr Sublet (his actual last name, believe it or not), of ‘misrepresenting the student attitude’ towards gowns, denigrating ‘the unbalanced presentation of the pros and cons’, and stated they told the University Council that the ‘majority of members [in the SRC Council] were in favor of wearing gowns’, even though the ‘question had never been submitted’ formally.

The President of the SRC, Mr White, responded in the next issue of Farrago, where he admitted ‘though no formal vote was taken, I gathered that a large majority … of the members present favoured the adoption of the gown’, and he noted Mr Mayman ‘seems to display a remarkable tolerance to a considerable disturbance of his own vision’. These two student representatives were verbosely fighting on the broadsheet battlefield. 

In September, after the winter break, the University Council officially removed the clause from the student statutes requiring gowns to be worn. As Farrago put it: ‘The relentless march of evolution has left the Melbourne undergraduate’s gown behind it’.

So, what did this whole gown situation mean for a fledgling Farrago? It really solidified its role as not just a place for news, but a platform for students to use to express their views to the University community. Farrago’s central role in the unfolding drama is implied to have resulted in its increased readership. Maybe without the gown controversy, Farrago wouldn’t have lasted the year and would not exist today.