It was a warm, late-summer Sunday in Sydney on 28 February 1965. The sky was a bright blue, the sort of weather that encouraged people to be outdoors. Across the harbour, the skeletal white sails of the Sydney Opera House were beginning to take shape, rising slowly from Bennelong Point, promising the cultural figurehead it would become. In recent weeks, the city hosted the likes of the Rolling Stones and the Bee Gees, who were still teenagers at the time, beginning to make their mark.
For many Australians, it was a moment of optimism and cultural momentum—modern, outward-looking, and increasingly self-assured. Against this backdrop of warmth and promise, something quietly extraordinary happened that day.
Amid this mood of optimism, a quiet but extraordinary event was unfolding. Thousands of Australians were taking part in a national door-knock appeal to honour the life and legacy of Sir Winston Churchill.
One of them was Richard Gilbert, then just 15 years old. Alongside him was his 17-year-old brother.
My father was involved in the RSL, and his connections to state leaders like Warren Osmond OBE, then Secretary or Assistant Secretary of the New South Wales RSL, played a role in mobilising the community. “That enthusiasm rubbed off on us in spades,” Richard says. “It wasn’t just another collection—it felt like we were part of something important.”
“We were just kids,” Richard recalls. “We lived in Chester Hill, and someone from the RSL drove us down to Villawood to collect. He still remembers the streets clearly. “There were probably only ten streets in Villawood at that time. We just walked up and down them. It was hot, but I didn’t care—I was young and proud to be doing something.”
And the response from the community? Unforgettable. “People just handed over money,” Richard says. “No one said no. No one turned us away. Everyone knew who Churchill was, and they understood what the appeal was about. I don’t recall any negativity. People felt good giving to something that mattered.”
At the time, Richard didn’t fully grasp the long-term purpose of the fundraiser. But years later, its significance became crystal clear. “It wasn’t until my now son-in-law received a Churchill Fellowship that I understood the real impact,” he reflects. “It made his career. It broke the nexus between doing nothing and being something.”
Now in Canberra and active in community organisations like his local Community Fire Unit and Neighbour Watch, Richard often reflects on that day and the legacy it sparked. “Without that door-knock, without the generosity of everyday Australians, there wouldn’t be a trust today. The trustees have done an incredible job managing it over the past 60 years. It speaks volumes about the culture of the organisation—and our society.”
What impresses him most is how the Churchill Fellowships have evolved. “You look at the recipients today—they come from all walks of life. They’re not just Anglo-Saxon. It’s pleasing to see the diversity, the spread across cultures, sectors, and communities. That’s what Australia should be about.”
His message for anyone considering applying?
“Never underestimate what you can do with a boost like this,” Richard says. “Have a go. Put in an application. You never know what it might unlock.”