Reading the columns of the local newspapers for the last few years makes it appear as though every town in the country has decided to build a Community Centre. Cynics may suggest that this sudden eagerness is stimulated by the pound-for-pound subsidy which War Memorials in the form of Community Centres will receive from Government grants. But even then it is evident that the most vocal sponsors are some local enthusiasts—an enlightened minority so to speak—and the question still remains of who really wants, who rally would make use of a group of fairly large and expensive buildings.

What is more disturbing is that there are as many definitions of a ‘Community Centre’ as there are individual sponsors and enthusiasts. The only common ingredient which would justify the acceptance of the term ‘Community Centre’ is found in a hazy mystical fervour which would have it that now the time has come when people are ready to become brethren and to weld themselves into this beautiful something—the Community.

What basis is there in reality for such belief? Surely, if this were true there would have emerged before today, before the need for buildings, a strong sign of a living community spirit—a spirit which inevitably would have found its forms of congregation regardless of the lack of solid buildings. After all, the Christian faith and many others gained their vital strength in catacombs. Surely none would suggest that our little suburban houses are worse hide-outs? But let us not be too destructive. Planners and designers, we are sure, would welcome the existence of such a spirit—strong enough to develop them as members of this community so that they could give full, and maybe beautiful, expression to it in the buildings they may be asked to design.

Unfortunately it is at this stage of having to give concrete form to the myth that the designer fails to conjure up more than a village hall. Maybe, to be critical, many enthusiastic planners and designers themselves have spread this romantic conception dreamed up from history books. Their excuse may be that rather than sensing a positive existing demand, they have felt the lack of a centre—of a focal point in our towns and suburbs. True enough, but the danger is that instead of nursing it along they will kill a tender shoot of community spirit by forced premature birth.

For we do believe that there is a growing desire for community life and activity. From where does it come? Maybe from a feeling of frustration after having achieved in New Zealand many material needs. We have, most of us, reasonably good houses; we have, many of us, cars and wireless sets and so on. These things are necessary no doubt, but are they giving us true happiness?

We have holidays with pay, but do we know how to use our leisure time? Maybe this is the root of the desire for more ‘community’—it is no more than a guess. Maybe it is the soldiers returning from the war after the comradeship of the camps—who knows?

Needs and Dangers

We do not know yet.

In these circumstances the best that can be done in each town is to analyse and find out the requirements of organizations already established, such as sports clubs, gardeners' clubs, and women's organizations, and provide the necessary rooms and facilities which even those still lack.

One may take the risk of providing some additional rooms for so-called ‘cultural’ activities such as drama and music, for which there is a very small demand, but which we may agree to be desirable pursuits. But do such rooms and buildings constitute anything new at all? Will they make a Community Centre? We have always had some sort of a town hall and a library in any case.

Are Adult Education and study groups the key?

Here, with this concept of ‘education’, a danger starts and an excellent idea may be killed by presenting itself in a pretentious way. We suggest that the sure way of putting New Zealanders off is to erect a precious little temple in the centre of a somewhat inaccessible ring of tulip beds, this entrance banked by sombre cyprusses, and with the words ‘Community Centre’ incised in Roman letters above the bronzed doors.

Yet this is what many of the earnest protagonists have in mind. They will be content to have given dignified expression to ‘Civic Pride’ and will be peevishly surprised at the ingratitude of the rising generation who will make no use of it. We suggest that vandalism in such places would be the natural result of frustrated vitality.

Because who is to tell us that we are not educated enough at the age of 25? Are we likely to go back to school after the day's work? Will we respond readily to education which is handed to us from such a forbidding altar?

What's wrong with watching ‘rugger’ in the week-end?

To put it bluntly, is not the shop, the pub, and the billiard-room our community centre?

What then do we do?

Some Sample Schemes

We show in this issue projected schemes for the centres of two rapidly growing towns—Upper Hutt and Mangakino. Both provide for group activities already organized in most New Zealand communities, but which have so far had inadequate and poorly-designed accommodation.

They are unpretentious, simple buildings that do not try to imitate Roman temples or Renaissance palaces. Their dignity, if any is desired, will derive largely from their honest appearance through the sound use of good materials, from their sympathetic blending with their surroundings. They are merely designed to fulfil their purpose as best they can with present-day means.

Their appearance is friendly and can be colourful. Most important of all, they are placed in a position where people meet in any case, in the pursuit of their daily tasks or pleasures. They are situated close to shops, close to the cinema, close to the pub, and the playing fields.

Maybe, when Bill Smith waits for his turn on the tennis courts, he will hear the voices of members rehearsing the repertory play. Maybe if Mrs. Jones goes shopping past the clubroom doors she will spot the announcement of a discussion evening on child psychology. Maybe when Jim Brown has a handle at the pub he will hear the rehearsal of the local orchestra and discover his inclination for blowing the trumpet.

This is the planner's contribution.
Maybe there will be community centres.