Reflections on Leadership: Yesterday & tomorrow
Published on 07 August 2025
From Cherbourg to Carpentaria, two leaders, past and present reflect on the power of representation and the paths that led them to serve.
“You just do not forget where you came from.”
For Cherbourg elder Aunty Ada Simpson, leadership runs in the family—but it also runs deep into the history of her community. Now 82, Aunty Ada reflects on her time as a councillor, her lifelong passion for preserving culture and the legacy that continues through her son, Bruce Simpson, now Mayor of Cherbourg Aboriginal Shire Council.
In the quiet heart of Cherbourg stands a place that holds memories. Aunty Ada says, “We need a keeping place… somewhere we can just give some of the photos. It’s just about photos at the time.”
She speaks softly beneath the eaves of the old ration shed—a building she helped save, restore and repurpose into a cultural museum that tells Cherbourg’s story. It is a story often marked by hardship but emblematic of hard-fought justice.
As a former councillor, Aunty Ada discusses the challenges of her time on council. “I was happy in that role, you know, because, well, you tried to push forward women’s issues, you know, and children’s issues… Health was one of the main things I’d say.”
Aunty Ada served multiple terms, beginning in the 1980s and returning after the formal handover of the council in the early 1990s. Those years were tough—not just for the council, but for the community. Aunty Ada reflects, “We stand on the shoulders of those before us, because they paved the way for us… and they were hard fighters. And we have to say so. They paved the way for us.”
Cherbourg Elder Aunty Ada Simpson and her son Cr bruce Simpson, now Mayor of Cherbourg Aboriginal Shire Council.
That intergenerational pride carries through when Aunty Ada reflects on today’s council. “It has come a long way. The community. And that’s why we’re so proud of the fact that we’ve got a lot of young people on the council,” she says. “It’s the youths’ perspective, you know, to the fore—because, like I said, we’re living in the world of technology now. I’m just so proud that… even the council before, they did a lot. All of the councils—like I said—we were standing on the shoulders of others, going before us. A lot of challenges there.” Aunty Ada’s pride in the precinct is just as clear. “This building tells the story itself… and I’m very proud of the rest of the historic buildings that tell the story.”
She is equally proud of her son Bruce, though she keeps her praise grounded. "Oh yeah, I’m proud of him. Yeah. But I just try to keep him down to it, you know. And say, you just don’t forget where you came from.”
It’s easy to get wrapped up in the ordinary business, but the future’s a huge part of council. If you want to see change, you’ve got to be part of it.
Of her nine children, Bruce is the only one who has served on council. “I’ve got a couple of them that are in government jobs… but [Bruce] is the only one that’s been on council.” Reflecting on what has changed in her lifetime, Aunty Ada sees growth—but also the need for cultural continuity.
It is why she continues to support truth-telling and the recording of local stories, even through sewing and art projects in the old dormitories. For Aunty Ada, council was never about politics. It was—and still is—about people, place and memory.
Carpentaria Shire Councillor Johnty O'Brien and hi mum, former councillor Brenda Schneekloth.
“The best outcomes come from different points of view sitting in the chambers.”
When Johnty O’Brien ran for Carpentaria Shire Council, it was not just about carrying on a legacy— it was about bringing something new to the table. Elected in only his early 20s, Councillor O’Brien has always believed that strong leadership needs a diversity of perspectives—and it was that belief that drove him to put his own name on the ballot.
“The main thing for me was the diversity around the council table,” he says. “The best outcomes come from different points of view sitting in the chambers.
“There’s definitely an age gap between myself and some of the other councillors,” he says. “And I think that’s a good thing. Everyone’s at different stages of life, they’ve had different experiences—and when you’re making decisions for the community, that matters.” He’s quick to acknowledge the influence of his upbringing—his mum, Brenda Schneekloth, who previously served as a councillor too—but says it was more about exposure than expectation. “Obviously I grew up around the council, and I saw my mum as a councillor when I was younger,” he says.
“So, it’s definitely always sparked my interest. But in small communities, council is such a central part of everything—it’s where people go when something needs to change.”
Having that early window into how local government works helped him hit the ground running, but it was his own ideas about the future that pushed him forward. “I wanted to be part of the decision making for the future—not just the day-to-day,” he says. “It’s easy to get wrapped up in the ordinary business, but the future’s a huge part of council. If you want to see change, you’ve got to be part of it.
“There’s no point in sitting back and complaining. I wanted to be involved and to be part of the decision-making—not just for today, but for the future.” That long-term thinking continues to shape how he approaches the role: grounded, communityminded and focused on broad representation.
His mum, Brenda Schneekloth, remains a powerful influence—known for her strength, her values and the way she continues to stand up for what she believes in, long after her time on council. “Council should reflect the people who live in the community. That’s the whole point,” he says. For Councillor O’Brien, leadership is not about age or background—it is about showing up, listening well and making sure every voice has a seat at the table.
By Zach Finlayson | LGAQ, Digital Communications Officer