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IMPORTANT JOBS: Volunteers deal with fights, offer refuge from the cold and hand out coffee and rubber thongs Photos: Andrew Perryman
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For a Saturday night smack bang in the middle of Bendigo’s nightclub district, everything is relatively calm.
Night owls patiently queue for taxis, a pair of burly security guards – paid to keep them in an orderly line – look, and probably feel, a little superfluous.
The Bendigo Weekly had been reliably informed “this is where the action is”, but apart from a brief spot of planking in the middle of McCrae Street, there’s little going on.
Perhaps inevitably however, around 1.30am, on the doorstep of the Black Swan, a seemingly innocuous push and shove quickly descends into a bona fide box-on.
You could argue a degree of order has been restored in the heart of a city that has a reputation (to some, largely overstated) for late-night fisticuffs.
The incident is all terribly cliched, and equally, unavoidable.
You can spend all the money in the world on new facilities, extra police, forums and PR spin, but at this time of night, nothing can come between the eons-old beef of two drunk men fighting over a woman.
While the incident reminds you some things don’t change, it then becomes apparent that others do.
Perhaps a year ago, one of the men who later emerges from the dust up bleeding profusely from his forehead, would have at the very least caught a taxi home.
But tonight, he’s led straight to the new Bendigo Chill Out Space for first aid, only metres away.
To those who think this new initiative set up on the not-so-mean-streets of Bendigo – the first of its kind in Australia it’s believed – does little more than just distribute warm drinks, lollies and good humour, think again.
In operation since November, the BCOS, has a mood-altering presence right beside the controversial Bridge Street supervised taxi rank. And it’s been welcomed by all involved, from punters, police and cabbies to late night hospital staff.
An initiative of the Bendigo Safe Community Forum and run by the Salvation Army, the BCOS is a refuge, a sounding board, and just as importantly, a great advertisement for the city.
“This is a fantastic service, I’ve never heard or seen anything like this before,” a tourist from Lakes Entrance tells the Bendigo Weekly.
In a city sometimes criticised for a lack of foresight, we should be beating our chest about this innovation.
For some of the small team of volunteers who give their time every weekend, when they could easily be home wrapped up on the couch with their families, it’s an unlikely highlight of their week.
“It’s not hard, it’s not hard to care for people,” BCOS ringleader Peter Baker tells the Weekly.
“We don’t do anything magic here, it’s pretty simple.
“The Salvos is about being where people are at. This is somewhere we can care for people.”
His team differs greatly in age and background, from retirees, a court chaplain to a Bendigo Health nurse. But all of them share a common desire to help others.
Peter, a Bendigo lawyer, moved to the city in 2002 and joined The Salvos almost straight away. You can find him at the BCOS most weekends.
However, he’s relatively uncommitted compared to 19-year-old civil engineering student Abe, who apparently never misses one.
“It’s great fun. I’m not a massive fan of clubbing and pubbing so it’s a way of catching up with my friends and hanging out with these awesome people,” he says.
Abe is as determined to help as he is to change perceptions of people his age.
“It really annoys me the stereotype for teenagers these days is that this is all we do (cause trouble after dark),” he said.
“It’s such a small minority who makes it bad for the rest of us.
“I helped an old lady with her groceries the other day.
She actually looked really scared and worried that I’d approached her.
“The big judgement about teenagers is we’re up to no good.”
The Weekly was given a tour of BCOS HQ, which is basically a large container on wheels, parked alongside the taxi rank, boasting a couch, wide screen television, a shed- load of coffee, tea and Milo, and enough lollypops to ruin the teeth of an entire preschool in one semester.
To get there you have to dart between two towering heaters, which create almost as big an attraction as the kebab shop just around the corner.
As the name suggests, the BCOS lightens the mood of the area; complementing a space traditionally exclusive to late-night hedonism and short skirts, with an air of safety.
Basically, it provides a level of care the police and the cabbies cannot provide, and goes a long way to explaining why the interaction between punter and volunteer is so warm.
Apart from good vibes, the volunteers deliver blankets to those in the taxi queue – which stretches from the kerb of Bridge Street to almost the front door of the Black Swan – mostly to women in skimpy dresses, or blokes in just as revealing singlet tops.
Rubber thongs are also handed out for the tiring high heel brigade.
Don’t think for a minute these volunteers are entirely selfless however. They get us much out of it all as the punters do. A lot more, actually.
“I love looking after people who can’t look after themselves,” Shirralee tells the Weekly.
“It’s a non-judgemental place to come... we don’t judge them.”
While some are full to the brim with grog, most are aware of the important job the volunteers are doing.
“People are really appreciative,” Peter says.
“Particularly people who are in distress, there’s nobody here to look after you if you have difficulties,” he says.
“There was a big fight out there between half a dozen people over January, and one bloke had his tooth knocked out.
“We hunted for the tooth but we couldn’t find it.”
The Weekly overheard one patron has donated a $20 note. It was greatly appreciated by the BCOS, which relies on donations and sponsorship to keep the space available.
Burke has seen the BCOS become a refuge for vulnerable women.
On one infamous occasion, the BCOS crew had to repair a young girl’s dress that had come apart, with safety pins. Another was fearful.
“Somebody from the taxi rank brought over a woman one night and she said some guys had tried to crack onto her,” he said.
“She was really vulnerable and we sat her in here and rang her mum and she came down and picked her up.
“She probably wouldn’t have got in a cab because the cabbies won’t take people who are really drunk.
“The cops are good people but their options are really either move people along or put them in the back of a van.
“They’re not there to provide first aid, but it’s not their role, so they appreciate us being here.”
Peter believes violence in Bendigo’s CBD after dark has been exaggerated.
“Most people go out and have a great night, they’re in a good mood and there’s not problem,” he said.
“There are always people who cause trouble.”
As another night draws to an end, one young patron grabs a couple of bottles of water on his way out of the chill out space, quietly thanking Peter and Abe for their help.
“This is awesome, he just gave us a blanket and a lollypop,” he says.
“I love this place. If you’re in desperate need, you can get help anytime.”
“That’s a typical response,” Peter says.
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