By Bob Gentleman and Kathy Evans. Review printed with kind permission from the Middlesex Banner.
In July of this year, family and friends gathered at Arrowwood Farm, a beautiful property in Riverside, just south of Melbourne, to celebrate the publishing of a book written by my uncle, Bob Gentleman. The farm that is now called Arrowwood Farm (6460 Riverside Drive) has sentimental value to our family, as it was once owned by the Gentlemans, purchased in 1870.
Bob’s book, titled “They Settled in Riverside,” is largely a family history, documenting the arrival of our ancestors in the Riverside area and describing their family branches. But Bob also captures an era now decades past as he shares stories of early Riverside neighbours and of growing up in Melbourne in the 1930s. He recalls his paper route, the school, town merchants and businesses, the railroad, and the neighbours and friends who were important in his life.
As part of an annual commemoration of area cemeteries, Glencoe & District Historical Society (G&DHS) organized a presentation and community walk at the Appin Cemetery. Prayers, dedications, singing, and community conversation were key parts of the afternoon.
Film industry pros sweat the possibility that many digital files will eventually become unusable — an archival tragedy reminiscent of the celluloid era.
Martin Scorsese: “The preservation of every art form is fundamental.”
For the movie business, these are valuable studio assets — to use one example, the MGM Library (roughly 4,000 film titles including the James Bond franchise and 17,000 series episodes) is worth an estimated $3.4 billion to Amazon — but there’s a misconception that digital files are safe forever. In fact, files end up corrupted, data is improperly transferred, hard drives fail, formats change, work simply vanishes. “It’s a silent fire,” says Linda Tadic, CEO of Digital Bedrock, an archiving servicer that works with studios and indie producers. “We find issues with every single show or film that we try to preserve.” So, what exactly has gone missing? “I could tell you stories — but I can’t, because of confidentiality.”
Specialists across the space don’t publicly speak about specific lost works, citing confidentiality issues. So, only disquieting rumors circulate — along with rare, heart-stopping lore that breaches public consciousness. One infamous example: In 1998, a Pixar employee accidentally typed a fatal command function, instructing the computer system to delete Toy Story 2, which was then almost complete. Luckily, a supervising technical director who’d been working from home (she’d just had a baby) had a 2-week-old backup file.
Experts note that indie filmmakers, operating under constrained financial circumstances, are most at risk of seeing their art disappear. “You have an entire era of cinema that’s in severe danger of being lost,” contends screenwriter Larry Karaszewski, a board member of the National Film Preservation Foundation. His cohort on the board, historian Leonard Maltin, notes that this era could suffer the same fate as has befallen so many silent pictures and midcentury B movies. “Those films were not attended to at the time — not archived properly because they weren’t the products of major studios,” he says.
Can you imagine digitising the Mona Lisa painting and destroying the original? The Magna Carta? The British North America Act? 1798 Act of Parliament to create London District? The answer to maintaining records is not paper or digital – it is both!
Committee To Establish a Middlesex County Archives
