Step into a world where the past comes alive in the most unexpected ways—a collection so unique, it’s taken over seven decades to curate. Imagine a fertility mask whispered to bring pregnancy to anyone who dares touch it, tribal tools shrouded in dark legends, and a room filled with dolls that seem to watch your every move. But here’s where it gets controversial: is this a treasure trove of history or a cabinet of curiosities that blurs the line between fascination and unease? Let’s dive in.
These are just a glimpse into Kevin Green’s extraordinary collection, tucked away in sheds and buildings across Donnybrook, a quaint town 200 kilometers south of Perth. For Kevin, this isn’t just a hobby—it’s a lifelong passion rooted in his childhood in Western Australia’s Goldfields, where resourcefulness was a way of life. “I was raised to cherish the old,” he reflects. “Everything had value when we were young.” Picture this: young Kevin and his siblings earning pocket money by collecting discarded bottles along the road in Kalgoorlie. It’s a memory that shaped his appreciation for the past.
But this collection isn’t just about nostalgia. It’s a sprawling, eclectic mix that spans decades and cultures. From West Coast Eagles AFL memorabilia and hundreds of toy cars to a vast Coca-Cola collection and Titanic artifacts from a Boyanup auction, Kevin’s treasures are as diverse as they are captivating. And this is the part most people miss: his military memorabilia, a nod to his navy background, holds a special place in his heart. “Anything military, I’m 100% behind,” he says, pointing to a clock that plays The Last Post, sending shivers down his spine.
What makes this collection truly unique is its deep connection to regional Western Australia. Old stairs from a Bunbury hotel, a telephone booth from Karridale, and antique whale spears found beneath the Albany jetty—each piece tells a story of the region’s rich history. One shed is entirely dedicated to dolls, while another houses a foosball table from Tom’s Snack Bar in Scarborough Beach, circa 1981. “People walk in and think they’ve seen it all,” Kevin chuckles. “Then I tell them, ‘You haven’t even scratched the surface.’ They’re in awe—or shock.”
Most items come from op shops, auctions, and garage sales, and Kevin remembers the story behind every single one. Take the tribal knife, for instance. “They’d flip the head back and use the fork to extract the brain—a delicacy,” he jokes, adding with a grin, “Some nationalities left them disappointed, though. Sometimes there was a note saying, ‘We owe you some [brains].’” And the fertility mask? “I always warn ladies, ‘Don’t touch that shield. The last woman who did was pregnant before she left the room.’” It’s all in good fun, but it sparks a question: Do we laugh it off, or does it cross a line?
Kevin’s collection isn’t open to the public, but he’s shared it with friends, family, and now, the ABC. For him, it’s not about profit—it’s about joy and connection. “I love seeing people’s faces light up when they say, ‘I remember that! I had one of those!’” he explains. Yet, he laments how often older items are discarded. “We’re tired of hearing, ‘Nan passed away, so the kids hired a skip bin,’” he says. “I just want people to appreciate their past.”
As the jukebox plays and Kevin sits back with a beer, he reflects, “Not bad.” But here’s the real question for you: Is this collection a celebration of history, a quirky obsession, or something that makes you uncomfortable? Let us know in the comments—we’d love to hear your thoughts!
