My only surviving substantial photo of the club. Some of the MASC club members at a solar eclipse excursion, Beveridge (central Victoria), 23 October 1976. (No, we were NOT looking at the Sun through a telescope, we were using pinhole cameras and other forms of technology to observe the eclipse indirectly.)
I remember this 1976 eclipse. Even the cows in the paddocks around us knew to seek shelter when the sky dimmed, but they returned when the light came back. That day, while the rest of the world was going about its business, we looked up — not just at the eclipse, but at a future that was calling us.
Genesis: From Primary School to the Paddock
They say “show me the child and I’ll show you the adult,” but that’s only half the story…
As children, we sometimes begin something small that echoes across decades, shaping lives in ways we never imagined. I had that chance – or perhaps I created it with friends – and half a century later, I can look back with astonishment at the outcomes.
It all began with a group of free spirits in primary school, role-playing “Thunderbirds” and “Lost in Space” and “H.R. Pufnstuf” while other boys were learning to kick footballs and the girls were playing elastics. While the popular kids were modelling themselves on footballers or beauty pageant queens or whatever gender binary norms were being presented in the 1960s, we looked up to Apollo Moonwalkers, the space family Robinson, and Lady Penelope – bold, confident figures who shaped their worlds. Will Robinson (a child our own age) thrived in alien landscapes, and SHADO’s own Commander Straker built the teams to face them. These weren’t just TV characters. They were our blueprint for adulthood. Later, as an adult, I can see in hindsight that the original club members grew into diverse, independent, self-empowered (sometimes bohemian) agents of their own destiny.
I was jealous of one of the girls – Annie – because she not only had a telescope but she was subscribed to a weekly comic/magazine called “Countdown” that featured graphic art stories of everything from “Thunderbirds” and “UFO” to other British science fiction (which may have inspired one of my earliest efforts at creating a fanzine). I even remember that at the tender age of 10, she filked the song “Blowin’ in the Wind”, rewriting the words to be space-aged:
The answer my friend, is in the vacuum of space
The answer is in the vacuum of space…
My recollection of her song reveals the potential for creativity that we unknowingly captured in those early days. Our gang – our club, simply known as “the club” in those times – would expand and grow as we did. In 1972, the last year of the Apollo Moon landings, we began to develop a fanzine, The Space Age – our own voice.
Drafting the Future
As we drifted off to different high schools, I eventually lost touch with some of those early friends, but made others. Two of my new friends – Peter and Russell – joined the Astronomical Society of Victoria with me in 1973. Becoming inspired by that group’s organisational structure (its general meetings and committee meetings, its Constitution and activities), we decided to remodel our little club to copy this format.
Inspired by the organisation name SHADO (Supreme Headquarters, Alien Defence Organisation) from the early-1970s TV show “UFO”, we named our club CATSMILK (the Celestial and Terrestrial Scientific Melbourne Interplanetary Link Kommission – “yes with a K” – forgive the juvenile idea, we were only 12 years old!) A couple of years later, hitting puberty, we decided that this name was a bit childish, so we renamed it as MASC (the Melbourne Amateur Science Club) and expanded our club membership to around 13 school kids across two or three schools.
The Melbourne Amateur Science Club (MASC) became a more “mainstream” (ie. “respectable”) and informal group of late primary school and lower secondary school students who ran their own science and technology-based activities. Club meetings were held on a rotating basis at private homes.
From 1973 to 1977, MASC published Club News and The Space Age — this latter being our launch-sequence zine inspired by Countdown magazine and named in part-homage to The Age newspaper. Its spirit-duplicated pages, supplemented by parental photocopies, carried our voices into the great unknown. Few copies survive, but the legacy endures.
MASC was composed of a series of subsections, each run by teenager with a particular interest in that field, for example: Physics, Astronomy, Archaeology, Chemistry, Electronics, even including Astrology and UFOlogy (these last two were intended to scientifically investigate these pseudosciences), with aligned subjects including Music and Photography. Each MASC subsection aimed to produce a report for club meetings, or the newsletter or zine.
Ignition: A Fandom Takes Flight
From CATSMILK (also eventually known as CATSMILC) to MASC, our club evolved from backyard experiments to a fandom that shaped lives.
One of our aligned interests — science fiction — quietly inspired the formation of a new subsection that would become Austrek in October 1975, sparked by Star Trek’s return to Australian television with the advent of colour TV. Teachers supported us: Mr D gave us access to duplicating machines, Mr M offered scientific guidance, and David A (who became more than just a teacher, but also a friend and colleague) stayed on as an Austrek member.
After distributing Austrek flyers at the Melbourne Star Trek Marathon in November 1976, the subsection grew so rapidly it absorbed MASC’s limited resources and became a standalone club. From there, the legacy unfolded.
Austrek touched thousands: inspiring careers, forging marriages, and offering community to those who felt alienated. It seeded other clubs, nurtured lifelong friendships, and — long before it was fashionable — embraced diversity, equity, and inclusion as core values.
Most school clubs are teacher-led, curriculum-bound, and short-lived. MASC was none of those things. It was self-organised, cross-disciplinary, and sustained across years and schools. Where most school clubs dissolve with the end of an academic year, ours evolved, absorbed, and ignited.
From Sneakers to Starships
Saint Ignatius of Loyola apparently once said, ‘Show me the child and I’ll show you the adult.’ But in fandom, the child is already the architect: documenting, designing, and dreaming in real time.
While Fanlore and Fancyclopedia trace a broader pattern (teenagers founding clubs, publishing zines, shaping conventions), MASC stood apart for its sustained life, cross-disciplinary visions, and its transformation into Austrek, a fan institution that has contributed to the future. Jin-Shiow Chen reminds us that adolescent authorship is not a phase, but a blueprint. MASC didn’t just imagine a future; it built one – adapted, evolved, but always true to its founding spirit. What began as youthful imagination became lasting reality.
Role-playing Will Robinson on an alien world, or Jimmy on the somewhat fantastical Living Island (home of Pufnstuf), was more than childhood fantasy. It was rehearsal for adulthood in a wondrous world, and it helped a group of schoolkids build something that continues to resonate today. Decades later, the idea remains powerful: dreams can inspire our world and shape the stories still to come.
Sic itur ad astra.
Thus we can journey to the stars — and sometimes, we bring others with us.
Legacy: To Boldly Care
The club didn’t just shape others — it changed my life.
In more than a metaphorical way, I was adopting the heroic qualities I admired in others. I met scientist and explorer astronaut David Scott — commander of Apollo 15 — as a teenager, and later encountered Ed Bishop, the actor who portrayed resilient and determined Commander Straker in UFO. These weren’t just distant icons; they were role models for how I chose to live, lead, and contribute to the community.
Austrek wasn’t just a fandom; it became an extended family. For many of us, it was the first place they felt truly seen, supported, and safe to be themselves. It offered belonging to those who felt alienated, and care to those navigating hardship. Through shared stories, mutual aid, and empowerment to develop their confidence and life skills, Austrek changed lives. It was a sanctuary disguised as a science fiction club.
Even Thunderbirds, with its ethos of rescue and humanitarian action, helped shape my sense of responsibility. The idea that helping others could be a mission — not just a story — stayed with me.
That same spirit of aspiration led me beyond fandom. As well as helping launch Austrek, I volunteered with Amnesty International Australia, where we literally saved lives and helped shape humane laws. After that and most recently, I have worked to assist LGBT+ refugees, some of the most disadvantaged people on Earth.
CATSMILK may be a silly acronym, but it provided sustenance for the growth of ideas that changed lives. The blueprint we drafted as children became a framework for action — not only for others, but also for me.
This blog ©2025 Geoff Allshorn, with some editorial and layout assistance from CoPilot AI. I show my respect for Elders past and present and acknowledge the Wurundjeri-Willam people, the Traditional Custodians of the Land on which this blog was prepared.