Leafing through Linda's Tree

My Bucket List

2012-01-29T12:46:00.000+11:00

Jill Ball, better known as Geniaus, set a task in motion just before she jetted off the RootsTech. The weather has been hot, I have been spending time with my family and at the beach, so better late than never, I have completed Jill's challenge and the results are as follows:

The Bucket List GeneaMeme

The list should be annotated inthe following manner:
Things you would like to do orfind: Bold Type
Things you haven’t done or foundand don’t care to: plain type
You are encouraged to add extra comments after each item

1. Thegenealogy conference I would most like to attend is the 13th Australasian Congresson Genealogy and Heraldry 2012, however I won’t be in Oz at that time. Oh well, nextyear!

2. Thegenealogy speaker I would most like to hear and see isChris Patonto learn all things Scottish and Irish

3. Thegeneablogger I would most like to meet in person is Thomas MacEntee – what agreat smile he has and what a lot I could learn, but as he lives in the USA,and I live down under, perhaps Sharon from the Tree of Me or Carole Riley who both haveexpertise in areas I am interested in and sound like interesting people as well

4. Thegenealogy writer I would most like to have dinner with is Dan Lynch – dream on!

5. Thegenealogy lecture I would most like to present is none, ever or maybe onconvicts

6. I would like to go on a genealogy cruisethat visits dry land (I get very seasick) - how about a genealogy train trip!

7. Thephoto I would most like to find is that of the wedding of my paternalgrandparents - I have only one photo ofeach of them, and they are being a grooms man and a bridesmaid at one of theirsiblings weddings

8. Therepositories in a foreign land I would most like to visit are TNA and the National Archives of Scotland

9. Theplace of worship I would most like to visit is St Martin in the Fields –lots of ancestors were married there and it is such a famous church

10. Thecemetery I would most like to visit is Rookwood in Sydney, I have so manyancestors, from so many lines buried there

11. Theancestral towns or villages I would most like to visit are in Co. Clare,Ireland, The Isle of Skye, Glasgow……

12. Thebrick wall I most want to smash is my Great, Great Grandfather, Owen Smith –where did he come from and where did he go?

13. Thepiece of software I most want to buy is the full suite of Adobe Products

14. Thetech toy I want to purchase next is an android tablet – Hello Galaxy Girls!

15. Theexpensive book I would most like to buy at this point in time from my “book wants”list is “Historyof Glasgow”- Three Volumes by Robert Renwick and Sir John Lindsay, Volume1- George Eyre-Todd, Volumes 2 & 3, at about $300. I have been known to paymore though for a rare(ish) book when I was working.

16. Thelibrary I would most like to visit is the BritishLibrary and the Bodleian Library in Oxford – such history – LC wason the top of my list until a few years ago, when I had the pleasure to beblown away

17. Thegenealogy related book I would most like to write is swirling around in theback of my mind, probably about the life of my mother who set me on this path

18. The genealogy blog I would most like tostart would be about, something I haven’t thought of yet

19. Thejournal article I would most like to write would be about one of a thousandthings

20. Theancestor I most want to meet in the afterlife is Christiana Matheson, to findout why a single woman of 30 emigrated from the Isle of Skye to the New EnglandTablelands of NSW on her own, and perhaps she could fill me in on her husbandOwen Smith as well.

Wealth for Toil : a Lament

2012-01-26T12:45:00.000+11:00

I have already created a post for the Australia Day 2012 Challenge, set by Shelley of Twigs of Yore; but sometime through the night I remembered a poem written in 1888 by Henry Wilson, a pioneer of Long Bay, better known as Malabar, a seaside suburb of Sydney, and though he seems a bitter man and the rhyme forced, I thought it was a fitting addition on this day, given its title, "The Toiler's Lament" It is unlikely Henry gained any wealth from his toil.

Henry is related to me indirectly in two ways; he was the grandfather of my Great Aunt Vera Morgan's husband another Henry Wilson, and also the Great Grandfather of my mother's cousin, Sheryl, through two different paths. A copy was sent to me by Sheryl's son Nathan.

The poem, as transcribed by Nathan goes like this:

The Toiler’s Lament

By Henry Wilson

Written 1888

"Why should the wealth of this Earth

In scattered heaps be placed, for the Human Race

To those whom revel in wealth and ease

Are given the fruits of the earth and seas

While from early morn till set of sun

The labourer’s task is never done

One ceaseless round of care and toil

He battles bravely with the soil

Small joys he has, One of Heaven

Life’s dark hours withsomething leaven

As he looks on those he has given life

It nerves his arm for future strife

But when his Earthly task is O’er

When hand and brain will wrought no more

No power he had in the past to save

His resting place, a pauper’s grave

And those who fattened on his toil

Base usurpers of the soil

What care they have for Human Life

For orphan born or stricken wife

Their only aim is power and place

Vampires of the Human Race"

I haven't researched Henry Wilson's life, but an entry by another of my mother's cousins, Darcy, published in the book "Maroubra & District Pioneer's Register" by the Cape Banks Family History Society has this to say about Henry.

"Great Great Grandfather was granted a parcel of land in the 1850's by the Queen [Victoria] which was on the South side of the Rifle Range. The Wilson name is on the plaque twice on the oval opposite Malabar Public School gates in Franklin Street"

Plaque in Pioneers Park, Malabar

Australia Day 2012 - Wealth for Toiling in the Tobacco Fields

2012-01-26T00:29:00.000+11:00

This year, my first year of trying to complete challenges and memes set by the Geneablogging community, I decided to take part in the "Australia Day Theme" for 2012 of "Work for Toil", set by Shelley from "Twigs of Yore"
The outline was simple (or so I thought) and excited me to do some research
Australia Day 2012: Wealth for Toil

To participate, choose someone who lived in Australia (preferably one of your ancestors) and tell us how they toiled. Your post should include:

What was their occupation?
What information do you have about the individual’s work, or about the occupation in general?
The story of the person, focussing on their occupation; or
The story of the occupation, using the person as an example.

Here is my contribution:

It was a difficult decision trying to pick an interesting ancestor who "toiled" for his daily bread, if not "wealth". However I noticed a pattern in my maternal line, in that many people, through many generations followed in their parents footsteps and worked in the one industry, so I decided to look at the industry rather than the individual.

Tobaccois a dirty topic in these modern times and I will not debate the rights and wrongs of this difficult to research topic. However without the Tobacco Industry inNew South Wales, at least three or more generations of my direct ancestors, (I am unsure of the work my mother's many cousins undertook) their spouses and siblings, children and grandchildren; in fact nearly all the men, andin one case I found, an aunt from my Roberts family line, worked in the TobaccoIndustry in NSW; from the mid 1800 until the early 1970’s. So for about 120years the Tobacco industry employed and sustained my family.

A Tobacco Twist

MyGreat, Great Grandfather, John Thomas Roberts (1845-1921), the son of two transported convicts, JohnRoberts (1817-1849) and Sophia Lawrence(1815-1903 nee Chapman), along with his brother-in-law JohnClifton (1845-1912), husband of John Thomas’ sister Mary Ann Roberts (1849-1917), who were all born inMaitland NSW, worked as Tobacco Twisters in the Hunter Valley. John Roberts himself, who was assigned to John Stephen Ferriter in 1837, worked on his property "Drayton" near Singleton in the Hunter Valley; perhaps the crop grown on Ferriter's property was Tobacco, thus the beginning of a family tradition.

A description of processing Tobacco leaf appears in the "Illustrated Sydney News" published on September 16, 1864 under the title "Colonial Industries - Dixon's Tobacco Manufactory" The article has this to say:

"... leaves being separated are dampened with water to render them pliable for working; they are then left in this state till the moisture has permeated every leaf, which is then said to to be cured. The manipulators.... [then] receives it, and it passes through these hands:- The first, the stripper who opens the leaves completely picking off the detached small pieces; the Strandmaker next receiving it, rolling the leaf round and round, and working the small pieces or fillers inside. The scrapper, forms it into a rope about eighteen inches long, and passes it onto the twister, who cutting of the fags, tucks in the end very carefully and the [completed] fig makes its appearance..."

Maitland, in the Hunter Valley, seemed to be one of the ideal places for the growing of Tobacco. The site, Tobacco in Australia quotes that "Tobacco growing commenced during Australia's early years of settlement. Governor Macquarie experimented with plantings at Emu Plains in New South Wales in 1818, and by the 1820's tobacco was cultivated by farmers in the Hunter Valley. During the 1850's growing extended to Victoria and Queensland."

The history of Tobacco growing in New South Wales is sketchy and hard to come by, however the W.D & H.O Wills website has this to say:

“By 1840, about 160 hectares of tobacco were under cultivation within 160 kilometres of Sydney; mainly in the Hunter Valley. Manufacturing activity goes as far back as the 1820s and, by 1901 Australian manufactured tobacco products supplied 40 per cent of the local market.

Domestic manufacturing boomed during the early 20th century, expanding to supply more than 90 per cent of the Australian market by the 1920s”

One reason for the burgeoning of the Tobacco industry in Australia during the 1860's was the advent of the American Civil War. Naval blockades by the Union forces, prevented much "Virginia leaf" being exported. Previous to that event, much of the tobacco used as snuff, chewed or smoked in Australia had been imported, with the local industry supplying only a small quantity of the colony's needs.

In searching Trove (Australian newspapers online from the National Library of Australia), there are many articles detailing how much tobacco, by tonnage, was shipped from the Hunter Valley to other destinations, and a great debate went on for many years regarding the duties attached to the export of tobacco to other states. Other debates raged over the quality of Australian grown Tobacco over imported Virginian tobacco, but very little is said of the industry and how it worked.

A couple of examples I did come across include the following "snippets" from articles found in the Sydney Morning Herald

Sydney Morning Herald, 21 September 1860

Sydney Morning Herald, Friday 21 March 1845, p. 2

Note: The Maitland Mercury of July 29, 1843 mentions a visitmade by the editors of the Mercury to Mr. Walthall's Tobacco Manufactory. Itemployed 35 (of whom 14 were children 8-14 years old) and produced 1800 to 2000lbs of tobacco per week.

In searching my family database by looking at occupations from birth, death and marriage certificates, as well as checking occupations from the Australian Electoral rolls, I found nearly 50 Tobacco workers in my family, and this was nowhere near a comprehensive search!

When my direct and extended family moved to Sydney around 1890, the families settled in Surry Hills untilmy Great Grandfather moved to Long Bay in 1911, (renamed Malabar in 1933)

From the very beginning, mostof the family living in Sydney worked for various Tobacco companies, then on its completion, almost exclusively for W.D & H.O. Wills in Kensington. By then the work would have changed from being agricultural or small scale skill based manufacturing, to a large workforce using mechanised, production line type manufacturing. An example from the Australian Electoral Rolls during the 1930’s shows theoccupation of two of my great uncles and an aunt as being a Tobacco Worker.

Two of my Tobacco working Great Uncles,
Tommy and Harry (Henry) Roberts, c. 1930

Australian ElectoralRolls, 1903-1954

New South Wales >1930 > South Sydney > Maroubra

Roberts, ElizabethOlive, Austral Street, Long Bay, Maroubra - home duties

Roberts,Myrtle Elizabeth, Austral Street, Long Bay, Maroubra - tobacco worker

Australian ElectoralRolls, 1903-1954

New South Wales >1933 > South Sydney > Maroubra

Roberts, ElizabethOlive, Austral Street, Long Bay, Maroubra - home duties

Roberts,Thomas Herbert, Austral Street, Long Bay, Maroubra - tobacco worker

Australian ElectoralRolls, 1903-1954

New South Wales >1936 > Cook > La Perouse

Roberts, ElizabethOlive, Austral Street, Malabar - home duties

Roberts,Henry Francis, Austral Street, Malabar - tobacco worker

Note:– Elizabeth Olive was their mother.

W.D. & H.O. Willsfirst built their factory “Raleigh Park” at Todman Avenue in Kensington in 1911, beginningoperation in 1913. The picture collection of the State Library of NSW and the Randwick City Library Service, Photo Gallery, apart from showing the manufacturing process, includes images showing the many social activities that were provided for employees. Clubs included, Lawn bowls, Basketball [Netball] team, a Cricket team, a large general recreation area, a first aid dispensary and rest area, and a large canteen. It seemed that they were very good to their employees, and a good company to work for, which perhaps accounted for the loyalty shown by family towards this company. My search terms included "Raleigh Park" and "W.D. & H.O Wills", however these images have a copyright attached, and as such I am unable to include them here. I have also found out that British American Tobacco (who took over WD & HO Wills) has an archivist, whom I have been told would be able to help trace the working lives of my family members, though I am still waiting for a reply to my weekly messages - 'tis the holiday season after all!

Women at Work. W.D. & H.O. Wills, Kensington NSW

Another Tobacco worker was my mother’s Great Grand Uncle, John Grey Clifton. Below is a Funeral Notice placed in TheSydney Morning Herald, Saturday 19, January 1895 - p. 16

The archives relating to the NSWTobacco Operative's Trade Association mentioned in the notice above, are held atthe University of Melbourne, but the 68 boxes held, have restricted access. Soquite a bit of research needs to be done if I want to delve further into theworking lives of my ancestors.

Not many of my ancestors smoked; I have vague memories of jokes being made at Christmas and family gatherings about cigarettes "... wouldn't touch the things - they're made from sweepings off the floor, you know..."; and I guess with so much involvement they would know.

Walter John Clifton

Even the more notorious members of the family worked in this trade. My mother's first cousin twice removed, Walter John Clifton's Police report notes his occupation as a Cigar maker.

New South Wales Police Gaol Records
No. 10586
Name: Walter Clifton alias Walter J. Clifton
Date and When Portrait was taken: 4-3-1908
Native Place: West Maitland
Year of Birth: 16 June 1868
Trade or occupation: Cigar maker

CONVICTIONS OFFENCE SENTENCE

Water P.C. (Police Court) - 5/6/93 Riotous behavior 45/- or 7 days Impris. served

Central P.C. - 8/2/94 Assault 24 hours impris. served

Central P.C. - 6/11/00 Drunk and disorderly 1 pound or 7 days impris.

So for better or worse; the good and the bad, tobacco has been a mainstay and the life blood of my family for a very long time, and Tobacco is not such a dirty word after all.

Sources:
Australian Electoral Rolls from ancestry.com.au
British American Tobacco
Illustrated Sydney News
Maitland Mercury
Personal papers and photographs held by myself
Sydney Morning Herald
Trove

Lavinia Ann Roberts : an addition but no relation

2012-01-15T20:09:00.001+11:00

I have noticed that many online trees, linked to my family have recorded a LaviniaAnn Roberts, as a daughter of John Thomas Roberts and Emma Clifton (my Great, Great Grandparents), born in Hartley NSW on the 8^th July 1870. Lavinia married Thomas Veal Lawry inOrange in 1895, and died in Auburn (a Sydney suburb) in 1949. There are many records on Ancestry that verify these details; and only one tree that gives her different parents.

However,another child of John Thomas Roberts and Emma Clifton, Edward John Roberts was alsoborn in 1870 - on August 25, in Maitland!

I was confused! Hartley is near Lithgow in NSW, almost 300km SW of Maitland where our family lived. How could Emma give birth to two children with in months of each other, in towns so far apart? Something was definitely wrong.

Maitland to Hartley NSW; from Google Maps

A cousin of mine, who has been doing research into our Roberts Family for many years, had previously sent me a CD with all his research notes, certificates and photographs - Thanks Mark! My main line of interest however lay in my own line, so I had previously not taken time to check the details of my Great Grandfather's siblings and their families. As I am currently "tidying up" my own tree off line, I finally came to Lavinia and the dilemma noted above became an obsession.

So out came Mark's CD, which I had decided to check more thoroughly and low and behold an absolute gem was staring me in the face - scans of pages from the Family Bible, which has come down through my Great Grandfather's sister's Line - Edith Roberts who married Percival Weeden. A brilliant find from an item I didn't know existed, but now know is the safe hands of my newly found cousin Stuart.

The first page details the marriage of John Thomas Roberts and Emma Clifton in 1865. The second page details the birth of all their children. It was from this evidence that my suspicions were confirmed - no mention of Lavinia Ann!

Cropped image from the Family Bible detailing the births of the 11 Roberts children

This was not really proof enough though. Why had Lavinia been added in the first place? Why had no one bothered to question the births? Why do people just COPY information from tree to tree without ANY evaluation of the information they are adding? Just duplicating mistakes!

I eventually found a copy of the birth certificate for Lavinina Ann Roberts, born in Hartley in 1870. Her parents were John Roberts and Emma Jane Williams - not Clifton if she belonged to our family.

Birth Certificate of Lavinia Ann Roberts, showing parents as John ROBERTS and Emma Jane WILLIAMS

So please, when you think you have found someone who you think belongs to your family, do some checking first. John Roberts is a common name as was Emma - that does not mean that they are the same John and Emma that belongs to your family tree.

My Genealogy Goals and Resolutions for 2012

2012-01-01T14:10:00.000+11:00

After reading Jenifer Alison Jones’ post regarding her “2012 –Genealogical Goals & Resolutions”, I found that the majority ofthem rang strong bells and were true for me as well. So based on her responsesto this question, I have kept many of her answers, and adapted them to my owncircumstances

At GeneaBloggers the question was asked on Open ThreadThursday – What Are Your Genealogy Goals andResolutions for 2012?

· Keep up to date with other bloggers more than I have this year.The few that I follow, I really enjoy, and learn a lot from, but wouldlike to extend that out to getting to know more bloggers

· Get my office turned into a "den of genealogy". Lotsof tidying, organising and sorting to be done yet to achieve that aim, AND stopusing the spare bed as a storage / sorting table!

· Start the Certificate of Genealogy

· Continue to scan documents and get them organised

· Continue to scan photos and organised them

· Write articles about some of my “Brick Wall” ancestors andsubmit for publication to AustralianFamily Tree Connections

· Write articles regarding my research into my Tasmanian Convict ancestorsand submit for publication to the Foundersand Survivor’s group’s newsletter “Chain Letter” or Inside History Magazine

· Join the Inverell District FamilyHistory Group, The Glen Innesand District Historical Society and the Armidale Family History Society – Can I really afford all these as well as the Genealogical and HistoricalSocieties I already belong to? These are the ones that would be able to help methe most in breaking down my main brick wall though!

· Read all I can about Scottish and Irish history and research

· Visit cemeteries at Rookwood, Randwick, Glen Innes & Inverellto photograph and record grave sites – all these are in New South Wales andwill require some travelling

· Upload photos and certificates to Family Tree Maker andBACKUP

· Learn more about Family Tree Maker 2012 and decide whether toupgrade

· Ensure that all sources in Family Tree Maker are clearly citedand uniform

· Keep in contact with family members who I have met recently throughmy online family tree

· Do a “Research Trip” around New South Wales”, visiting all thelocal societies, small townships and relevant cemeteries where my ancestors livedand were buried.

· Continue to search for my brick-wall, the elusive Owen Smith, ashoemaker at the Station, “Boorolong” near Armidale, NSW

· Keep in contact with familywho are living now, as they are more important than all of the above,especially as I only have a few cousins, close and distant left. I am now partof the older generation, with all Aunts, Uncles and Parents passed away.

Thanks Jenifer for articulatingmy goals so clearly.

I do tend to get side-trackedquite a bit – as do I.

Why were the Keough children were admitted to the Randwick Asylum for Destitute Children?

2011-12-30T18:19:00.000+11:00

Annie Nicholson was the third child of Fanny Norman and Henry Nicholls, two convicts who had been transported to Hobart in Van Diemen's Land (Tasmania, Australia); and a younger sister of my Great, Great Grandmother, Louisa Nicholls.

Note: Some of Anne's siblings were given the "real" surname of her father, Henry Nicholls, and other's had their name given as Nicholson. It seems ex-convicts commonly changed their names to remove the stigma of being a transported criminal.

Anne was born on the 16 March 1858 in Maitland, after her parents had left Tasmania and resettled in New South Wales. In December of 1874, Anne married William Keough aged 18 in Elizabeth Street Sydney, at the residence of James Fullerton L.L.D., a minister in the Presbyterian Church, who was occasionally sanctioned for performing "Quick" marriages.

Four children were born to this couple:

William Henry Albert George Keogh in 1975
Florence Annie Matilda Keogh in 1977
Victoria Ellen May Keogh, aka May in 1880
Annie Louisa Keogh, aka Louisa in 1882

In September of 1885, three of the children, William, Florence and Victoria were admitted to the Randwick Asylum for Destitute Children by their father, William. The reason recorded by the asylum was that "[Their] Mother deserted. Father cannot look after them" William had to pay 7/6 (7 shillings and 6 pence) for the board of his children.

From the records of the Randwick Asylum of Destitute Children

The children stayed for many years in the Asylum until they were old enough (around 13 years of age) to be "Be Transferred" to wealthy households as servants, having done one years apprenticeship to the Asylum, training for their new duties.

My question however is why the youngest daughter was not sent to the asylum? Did her mother take her with her? Or was it because their mother was very ill? Anne died 8 years later in 1893, aged only 36 of "Chronic Brights Disease", a kidney disease, and described in terms of the day at the link provided.

I have the records, but not necessarily the real reasons or answers. I have a theory that the children were sent to the asylum as Anne was too ill to look after her children, rather than deserting her family, or so I would like to think!

Sources:

New South Wales, Australia, Registers for the Randwick Asylum for Destitute Children, 1852 - 1915; NSW State Records
Certificates from the NSW Register of Births Deaths and Marriages held by self

William Clarence Morgan : Christmas in waiting

2011-12-22T19:34:00.000+11:00

My Great Grandfather's brother, William Clarence Morgan, a member of the 20th Battalion A.I.F. was wounded in France during WWI, on the 27th July 1918, suffering a gunshot wound to the stomach. Many letters were exchanged between my Great, Great Grandparents and the War Office as they were justifiably concerned about the welfare of their son. Below is a sample of the correspondence Will sent to family members during his convalescence and in anticipation of getting home in time for Christmas.

Will is in the last bed on the left

The verso reads:
Dear Niece, (26.9.18)

Just a P.C. to let you know I am getting on well now, and that I received your parcel which pleased me very well indeed. I suppose by now you have all heard the news of me being wounded. I am presently in our own [Australian] Hospital at Harefield Park, having being shifted from Bath Hospital on Saturday last. Well, I hope to be on my way home before Christmas. I have been marked for home, but don't know when I will be leaving here. I hope you are a good girl & getting on well at school, and that [your] Mother and Father are well & that you visit Grandma & Grandpa often. No more this time, so I will close now

With love & Kisses from Uncle Will

"Christmas Compliments"
from wounded Australian Soldiers, UK, 1918

However, Will was a very resilient young man, who after being transferred through many hospitals, both in France and the UK, was eventually deemed fit to return to Australia. This card sends his Christmas Greetings to his family. He was a prolific letter and postcard writer, and seemed very fond of his nieces, including my Grandmother and her sister, as I still have many of the cards he sent.

This photograph was sent to my Great Grandfather, Thomas Morgan, and it reads:

My Dear Brother, (9.11.18)

I am doing A.1. at Lloyds now & looking forward to getting home. We should have left here yesterday, but once again the boat was postponed. Never mind, we will all be home shortly & peace will be signed before XMAS. Keep a pint of Tooths XXX [brand of beer] should I be late in arriving old boy. Last word I had from Bert [another brother], he was doing O.K. You will pick yours truly out in this Photo; doesn't look as if I have just done 14 weeks in bed. Takes more than a hard headed "Fritz" [slang for a German soldier] to kill a Morgan, although I had a narrow squeak. Love to Fran [my Great Grandmother] and children.

Your affectionate Bro, Will

Will eventually returned home to Sydney and was discharged as "Medically Unfit" on the 19 July 1919, He had travelled from Weymouth, UK aboard the Hospital Transport Ship "Czar" which firstly arrived in Melbourne on the 16th May 1919.

From the photograph below, it seems the whole family turned out to greet him and I'm pretty sure that there was more than one cold beer put aside for him!

Morgan Family gathered to welcome home William Clarence, Lidcombe NSW, 1919
Surrounded by flags of the World

Tombstone Tuesday : Carol Judkins and her Headstone Photograph Collection

2011-11-30T09:09:00.001+11:00

I have been doing a small amount of research into my husband's family - why he doesn't do it himself, I don't know - he is always interested in what results I find! But I digress. Being limited in our mobility, travelling to cemeteries, either near or far can be a difficult prospect for us. My husband grew up in rural Victoria, Australia and luckily for us there is a wonderful person named Carol Judkins who spends her weekends roaming Victoria, photographing and the adding pictures and names to her database at "Carol's Headstone Photographs" which can be searched by Cemetery name.

I'm unsure as to whether this fabulous resource, one that is provided free, and carried out as a labour of love has been written about before, but for those of us who are less mobile, and have ancestors who lived in rural Australia, this site is a must!

When I emailed regarding some photos listed for my husband's Jesser Family (His Paternal Great Grandparents) who are buried at Chewton Cemetery, I had a reply within the hour!

These are the results of my two minute search plus an email.

Charles and Mary Jesser (Sands) and their daughter Faney

Leonard Herbert Jesser and his wife Francis Louise Fraser

Hilda and William Douglas Jesser

Michael Dillon from Ireland : Origins lost in transcription

2011-11-24T20:51:00.001+11:00

My 3x Great Grandfather, Michael Dillon whom I had previously listed as one of my "Most Wanted" ancestors, along with his wife Mary and son Michael, my Great, Great Grandfather, arrived in Australia on the 12 April 1848, aboard the barque "Subroan", carrying 209 Bounty Immigrants. According to the transcription of the ships arrival into Sydney by Ancestry, they had departed from Scarriff in County Clare, and the family's place of origin was Baher, County Galway in Ireland.

Ancestry.com.au records

Place of origin from the original record hosted by ancestry

Looking at the original record from the New South Wales, Assisted Immigrant Passenger Lists, 1828-1896 collection, it still states that the family's place of origin was Baher, Galway. Ireland.

Scarriff (A) to Barna (B) from Google Maps

However, searching Google Maps, no such place existed. The closest I could find is Barna (Baher), Co. Galway which is a coastal town, while Scarriff, Co. Clare is an inland town, 80 kilometres away.

I believe that the family must have had a very strong brogue, as Michael's daughter's surname was written as Denham on her birth certificate. The record shows that Michael's parents could neither read nor write, thus the possible misinterpretation of the place of origin

This discrepancy of place names and misspellings, put beside the evidence of the map, leaves me wondering just how wrong the transcriptions can be, and how vigilant we must be in checking out just what is the reality of our history, and what is meant by such terms as "place of origin".

I have had to change many of my original assumptions as to where Michael Dillon was born; Instead of being born in Barna / Baher in Co. Galway, he was born in Scarriff in Co. Clare, while the ship, (spelt Subraon on the record and Sobraon on the transcription) departed from Barna / Baher. If I had done this simple check it may have saved me quite a few Euro's, searching Irish databases for birth and marriage certificates.

Michael Dillon, 1843-1906, Memorial Card

Names, Places and Most Wanted Faces

2011-11-14T12:19:00.001+11:00

Following Geniaus' suggestion about adding our "most wanted" ancestors from Australia and their homeland, adapted from Thomas MacEntee's Surname Saturday blog post, I have created a new blog. Here are the (public) answers to my very first meme regarding my most elusive ancestors.

Format:

1. List your surnames in alphabetical order as follows:

[SURNAME]: State/Province (county/subdivision), date range
as in:

AUSTIN surname: New York (Jefferson County, Lewis County, St. Lawrence County), 1830-present; Rhode Island (Kent County, Washington County), 1638-1830

2. At the end, list your Most Wanted Ancestor with details!

Aston, Mary:Armagh, Ireland, ?-1903; Emigrating to Australia at some unknown time

Cook, WilliamHenry or Henry William: Shoreditch, Middlesex, England, 1819-1869, Emigrating to Australia at some unknown time

Dillon ,Michael: Baher, Galway, Ireland, 1811-?
Michael Dillon arrived in NSW, Australia in 1848 aboard the "Subroan"with his son Michael and wife Mary.

Jones, Mary: Tredegar, Wales 1831-1889

Mary Jones married Thomas Pugh Morgan in Abergavenny in 1851. Together withtheir children, they immigrated to Queensland, later settling in Wallsend NSW

King, Olive: Brighton, Sussex, England, 1820?-1898
Convict, Olive King was transported to NSW for 7 years aboard the “Mary Anne”.

Lefroy, James: Ireland? 1804-1884
Convict, James Lefroy was transported to Australia aboard the “Eliza” in 1832for 7 years.

Matheson, Christiana: Isle of Skye, Scotland, 1815?-1895; Emigrating to Australia at some unknown time

Morgan, ThomasPugh: Monmouthshire, Wales 1827-1881.
Thomas Pugh Morgan married Mary Jones in Abergavenny in 1851. Together withtheir children, they immigrated to Queensland, later settling in Wallsend NSW

Nicholls Henry: Rochester, Kent, England, 1818-?
Convict, Henry Nicholls was transported to Tasmania for 15 years, arrivingaboard the “Gilmore” in 1843. There he met and married another convict, FannyNorman in 1852. Sometime after 1854, the family moved to, and settled in SydneyNSW. Henry then disappears from the records

O’Connor, James: Ballinalack, Westmeath, Ireland 1837-1902; Emigrating to Australia at some unknown time

O’Sullivan / Sullivan, Julia: Boherbue, County Cork, Ireland, 1833-?; Emigrating to Australia at some unknown time

Smith, Owen – total brick wall – only named on son’s baptismcertificate as a shoemaker, at Boorolong Station near Armidale NSW, Australia

Wotton, William: Bridford, Devon, England 1830-1870; Emigrating to Australia at some unknown time

My Most Wanted? Owen Smith (see above) and his wife Christiana Matheson by a long shot. My Mother started her search for this couple over 40 years ago, and it was only recently that Christiana's surname and place of birth were discovered. But even contacting a researcher on the Isle of Skye, nothing can identify her parents or when she would have arrived in Australia!

Counting our Blessings : Living with Parkinson's Disease

2011-11-06T08:36:00.000+11:00

This is not really a genealogy blog about ancestors; It is about the life my husband and I have lived over the past years and will serve as a story for generations to come.

A few months ago, I was approached by Parkinson's Victoria, wanting to know if I would be willing to be interviewed for an article, describing life as a carer for someone who has had PD for 25 years. The article was used as part of Parkinson's Victoria's Christmas Appeal, 2011. This morning, without notice, I received the actual copy, sent to all Parkinson's Victoria members. It was a slight shock, to see your words on such a personal matter in print.

I was interviewed by a wonderful lady named Indira Kennedy. A half hour interview turned into a two hour chat. I described the problems we have faced, warts and all, and she came up with a wonderfully sensitive take on the difficulties we face on a daily basis. I have added some details to round out the story in italicized type.

Here is how she worked a terrible tale into a blessed life:

Counting Our Blessings

I may not have the man I married but I do have much to be grateful for

Living with Parkinson’s takes courage and strength, dedication and patience. It can also take the things you love - if you let it.

My husband Paul has lived with this challenging illness for over 25 years. He was only 30 years old when he was diagnosed, but probably had developed the disease a few years prior to diagnosis. It was so early in life and such early days in understanding how to manage it and live well with an ‘older person’s disease’.

I met Paul as a father of two girls. I have three boys. My own health is challenging, having a mental illness and rheumatoid arthritis as well as back problems, and sometimes I wonder who is looking after whom! Between us, as a second marriage for both, you could say we had a lot on our plate.

At first Parkinson’s wasn't so noticeable. Paul had a lot of coping skills and hid the symptoms well. As a scientist he knows everything there is to know about the physiology of disease. Paul was a senior research scientist at CSIRO for 22 years, specializing in Molecular Biology. He also won many awards including the prestigious "Chairman's Medal". He loves history and immersed himself in the thousands of books lining our home; Seriously! He has an amazing sense of humour and a wonderful way with language. But at an emotional level, it’s another thing altogether.

You could say Paul doesn't want to know, to face up to what has gradually taken so much of him. But what I have learned is that Paul hates confrontations, always looks for peace and doesn’t allow his condition to rob him of his good nature.

At Cross Country, Benalla

For example, Paul was fabulous with the children when they were young. He took them to Little Athletics every Saturday during summer, and cross country during winter, despite his condition. When he could no longer drive, he took a taxi. He quietly soldiered on.

As for me, I have learned to express the emotion for both of us. I know what it is to go through the stages of grief, having lost both my parents around the same time Paul's health began to worsen, to feel robbed of the spritely man I married, to have our children struggle to confront the reality of a dad who was ill.

Many times I have fallen into total exasperation, burdened by the dependency on me. At times it was like looking after my father in the last months of his life - Paul had become an "old man". Sometimes it feels like I’m flying blind dealing with how Paul is feeling or what he needs to be comfortable. I’ve come home to find him frozen in muscle spasms on the floor, or in the full throes of tremors. I had to give up work, in 2008 just as he did, aged 49 two years previously, to try to live better with the progression of this demanding disease.

My saving grace was contacting Parkinson’s Victoria when I just didn’t know how to go on. Their useful tips about simple things like shirts with press studs, tracksuits with no elastic in the ankles, slip on shoes, all gave me a new view of daily life. Getting dressed and doing up buttons on a shirt or tying shoelaces was beginning to take half an hour for each task, so I was dressing him, an embarrassing proposition for a man in his prime!

But more importantly, I learned what side effects to expect from the many drugs Paul needed to control his spasms, to know what stages to expect as the disease took its path, got referrals to other services, and I learnt what our options were. One of those options was a change in his drug regime which included a 24 hour infusion pump of the dopamine agonist of Apomine, changed daily, until there was nowhere to put the butterfly needle as he was so skinny, and finally, Deep Brain Stimulation in May of 2010. Note: The solutions that suited Paul are not for everyone. Please talk to your neurologist!

Infusion pump and needle

Even more so, I was grateful to have a time to cry and let go when no-one else could truly understand. I’ve needed to speakup and have someone support us. Parkinson’s Victoria got us on the right track when another track wasn’t working. They referred us to the right agencies who arranged for easy access to the bathroom and install hand rails, and find respite care. They helped us to bring the whole emotional experience into one that became, ‘This is how it goes.’ I learned to accept and keep fighting on.

Charging across a Southern US battle field

We travelled to America for three months, driving 2500 miles, mainly looking at Civil war sites in the Southern states - one of his passions while it was possible, and had the trip of a lifetime together. And we can still holiday in places where we are still able to meet Paul’s needs.

These days Paul snoozes a lot during the day, and seems slower. But his mind is just as sharpand his love is just as powerful.

Thankfully, Parkinson's will not shorten Paul’s life - he can expect to live as long as any averageAustralian male. But Parkinson’s will continue to challenge us, and sometimesin unpleasant ways. We will still need Parkinson’s Victoria to help us, every step of the way.

There is no doubt Parkinson's has changed Paul a lot. I might not have the man I married, but I do have the man who in his own way keeps on fighting along side me, in the best way he knows how. And we constantly count our blessings.

Everyone has their own story, and their own journey. Parkinson’s Victoria remains dedicated to taking those steps with us all.

Please give generously to this appeal. We know, as most likely you do, the incredible difference this service makes to so many lives.

Thank you and please have a safe and joyful festive season.

Linda

The Death of William Smith : A PITIFUL STORY

2011-10-14T19:13:00.001+11:00

William Smith, my paternal Great Grandfather born in 1854, was the son of Owen Smith and Christiana Matheson (from the Isle of Skye). Owen disappeared from the records, however in 1857, Christiana went on to marry Jabez Smith, a shepard then later a store-keeper on the station "Boorolong" near Armidale. Jabez and Christiana had three children, Eliza and Catherine - twin girls, born in 1858 and Charles born 1860.

Jabez wrote his will in 1885, and died in 1888. His will states that "My stepson William to have all my horses and 1 dray & harness". The probate papers for Jabez' will describes these items as " 1 harness (old) worth £1, 10/- and 1 dray (old) worth £6". When in total his whole estate was valued at probate for just under £1000; it seems step-sons were not very important in the scheme of things.

In 1881 William married Agnes Jane Johnson. I do not know why William and his family left the thriving Boorolong station, and moved to such a remote area. I might assume that he was no longer welcome at Boorolong after the death of his mother in 1894 and perhaps they thought he might "Make his Fortune" carting goods to the miners whom had flocked to the area because of the gold rush that was happening along Swamp Oak Creek during that time, but those reasons are now lost to time. Together William and Agnes Jane had 4 sons and 4 daughters; William Thomas; Ernest Jabez; Albert James; Henry Owen; Eliza Pearl; Janet Christina; Ethel May; and Vida F. Smith

However in 1895 tragedy struck. I was recently reading a book called Three of a kind : a history of Niangla, Weabonga & Ingelba by Claire Brazel et al. There was no mention of the Smith family in the index, although, from NSW death certificates held by me, I already knew that William had died at "Swamp Oak" - later renamed Weabonga in 1917. I was casually reading some of the small inserts of newspaper clippings that illustrate chapters in this book, when I was came across this passage on page 161 which rocked me to my core:

A PITIFUL STORY:- A sad story of destitutionreaches us from Swamp Oak (writes the Walcha “Witness”) A Mr [William] Smith, acarter by occupation, has been living with his wife [Agnes Jane Johnson] andfamily near the school there. One boy got injured and was taken to TamworthHospital with a broken leg. From inquiries made by Constable Payne it appearsthe rest of the family were sleeping in the house without one blanket betweenthem. Sickness set in, in the shape of inflammation of the lungs. The residentsof Swamp Oak subscribed a little money and sent the father to Tamworth formedical advice. He reached Tamworth, but appears to have got no advice and nomedicine for the children. On his return, although he did not complain, it wasnoticed that he was bad. Now the father and two boys have died, and the motherand remaining two [four] children are in a bad state. Constable Payne came into thetown – having ridden through from Tamworth and made arrangements for the admissionof the mother and two children to the Walcha Hospital. Mr W. Moore has gone outfor them.

Tamworth Observer, 24th August 1895

This trip, done either on horseback, by dray or by foot would have been no mean feat. The distance between Weabonga and Tamworth is about 45.5 miles, and the terrain is steep and wild and the tracks at that time, rough.

from Google Maps 2011

I had previously found a plaque inscribed with the name "W. Smith and his two sons" from their burial place at the Weabonga Cemetery, with only minimal details listed. I wrote to the Tamworth Historical Society filling them in with the missing details and asked if they had any information regarding an outbreak of diphtheria - the offical cause of death given on the NSW Death certifcates of William and his two sons, Henry Owen (aged 10) and Albert James (aged 6) - in the area during July and August (the months of their death) of 1895, but they could not give me any answer.

Weabonga Cemetery plaque - from Australian Cemeteries Index

Information on Diphtheria:

"Diphtheria is aninfectious disease which primarily affects the mucous membranes of therespiratory tract (respiratory diphtheria).

Throughouthistory, diphtheria was a leading cause of death among children, and it wasonce referred to as the "strangling angel of children." Thediphtheria bacterium was first identified in the 1880s. In the 1890s, theantitoxin against diphtheria was developed, with the first vaccine beingdeveloped in the 1920s.

The signs andsymptoms of respiratory diphtheria are caused by the bacterium's ability tocause a localized inflammatory reaction of the cells lining the upperrespiratory tract. In certain cases, the disease can become more severe andwidespread, and it can involve other organs of the body as well.

Diphtheria is transmitted to closecontacts via airborne respiratory droplets. Overcrowding and poor livingconditions can further contribute to the spread of diphtheria."

Family lore always had William and the two children dying, after his horse and dray were broken up and washed away while trying to cross a flooded and swollen creek.

It is a story worthy of more investigation, but no matter what the circumstances, the idea of my Great Grandparents and their children "living without a blanket between them" will always send a shiver down my spine.

Sources:

NSW BDM Certificates
Australian Cemeteries Index
Three of a kind : a history of Niangla, Weabonga & Ingelba / Claire Brazel et al, 1991
Google Maps
MedicineNet.com

Arthur Roberts : From Boyhood to Fatherhood : The Making of a Good Man

2011-08-30T22:41:00.001+10:00

The Life and Times of Arthur Thomas Herbert Roberts, as told by his daughter Marjorie Roberts : edited by his Granddaughter, Linda Smith.

Arthur Thomas Herbert Roberts, as he always called himself, on official occasions or Arthur, on formal occasions and Artie to friends, was born on the 21^st ofJanuary 1898, at his parent’s home in Riley Street, Surry Hills; an inner city suburb of Sydney, which at that time was well known as a slum area. A good description of the area and times can be found in the novels “The Harp in the South” and a “Poor Man’s Orange” by Ruth Park.

He was the 2^ndeldest of eight children born to Thomas Roberts and Elizabeth Olive Dillon.The grandparents of both his parents were convicts, sent from Britain to New South Wales between 1830 and 1850. John Roberts and Sophia Chapman were his paternal Great grandparents, while his maternal Great Grandparents were Olive King and James Lefroy. Arthur's eldest sibling, Olive was born in Surry Hills in 1896, while his youngest, Mavis, was bornin 1914 at their new home "Olveena" in Austral Street, Long Bay, where she lived the whole 91 years of her life.

As a child he used to walkthe 8 miles out to Long Bay with his father Thomas, to visit his aunt, Hannah Roberts, his father’s sister. Hannah had married Lawrence better known as “Larry” Burns in 1896, and had moved to Long Bay around 1900. In 1910 Arthur’s family alsodecided to move from the inner city to the almost unknown suburb of Long Bay,with its fresh air, clean drinking water, seaside and space. Long Bay had been “settled” less than 25 years earlier. But for many thousands of years had been home to the local Aboriginal people, many who still resided there, while the newcomers built around them.

ATH Roberts, 1915

By this time, at the age of 12, Arthur had finished his schooling, eventually training as a tinsmith, making travelling trunks.

At the age of 17 and 10months, on the 8^th of November 1915, he joined the AustralianImperial Force and was enlisted into the 2^nd battalion.

Records showthat he lied about his age, which is listed as being 18 years and 9 months. TheArmy records also show that he was 5’ 2” and weighed 8 stone, 3 pounds, when heleft Australia on the 12 December from Sydney, New South Wales, on board HMAT Berrima.

HMAT Berrima

After stopping over in Alexandria, he arrived in Marseilles, France in March of 1916, and by late July 1916, waswounded in a battle at Pozieres, when up on a church wall, a shell exploded and a piece of shrapnel was lodged in his temple. Athur was one ofonly a handful of men to survive such an injury, but he always claimed thathe survived because he was ordered to walk from the front line to find medicalassistance, as the battalion was in retreat. In his words, “the circulation from walking helped me survive”. He was eventually sent to the Third West General Hospital near Cardiff, Wales in August of 1916 forrecovery, but by October of 1917, he was back in France. Put on cooking duties,he spilt a large pot of boiling water on his right arm, and was again sent formedical treatment.

He returned to Australia on His Majesty’s Troop Ship, “City of Poona”; leaving Southampton in England onthe 28^th March 1919, and arriving in Melbourne in Victoria on the 14^thMay 1919, from where he had to make his way home to Sydney by train; a distance of some 600 miles.

On his return home, he was presented with a special 9 carat gold medal inscribed “Pres TO, A.T.H. Roberts,from his friends A. & AE SUMNER, on his return from the, GREAT WAR, 17. 5.19” ; Mr Sumner being another well known and respected local resident

Once home, even the peaceful, sleepy suburb of Long Baycould not settle his nerves. He left Sydney and “went bush” down the southcoast of New South Wales near Shoalhaven, staying away for four years. On his return home around 1923, he bought a horse and cart and went around the local area selling fruit and vegetables, many of which he bought from the local Chinese market gardeners at Matraville. When a green grocer’s shop opened in Long Bay, it was Arthur who supplied them with their produce.

In 1924 he bought a Ford truck to carry on his old business more effectively. In the year before he passed away, John Anderson, a pioneer of Long Bay who had had a long running carting business, sold it to Arthur, whom he thought was a dependable character, thus the truck was named "Dependable". The goods Arthur now carted included Coal, coke and wood which households burnt for heating and cooking, and ice to keep food cold, as electricity was connected to only a very few of the houses in the area, and refrigerators were not yet on the market; it took his wife Doris until the 1970's to give up her “Ice Chest” for such a new and in her opinion, useless Electric Refrigerator!

Newly weds, Arthur and Doris,
leaving All Souls Church

1924 was an eventful year for Arthur, as he also methis future wife, Doris Louisa Morgan, at one of the many dances that were regularly held at Anderson's Hall in Victoria St. In June 1926, they were married at AllSouls Church of England in Petersham, back near where they had both been born.

Arthur and Doris in their new home

The newlyweds rented a cottage named “Longhaven” in Prince Edward St. Their first daughter, Doreen Lorraine was bornin 1927. Business remained promising, and Arthur bought a number of housingblocks to ensure his family’s future.

When in 1929, the world was hit by an economic depression, Arthur continued to give service to clients even if they could notpay. The couple began to argue, as Doris believed that many families whom had pleaded poor, could in reality, afford to pay as many husbands worked on thequite or QT as it is said in Australian slang, while her family went without.Arthur however, kept up his charitable attitudes by giving a lift to men he saw walking to Moore Park for food handouts, even though he could barely afford thepetrol. He continued to struggle economically, and the blocks of land he had purchased against such an eventuality had to be sold. He would never considersigning up for “The Dole” nor accept handouts himself, but continued to struggle financially, while maintaining his compassionate work. However, soon all his assets were gone and he was left with nothing.

Long Bay Fire Station, Raglan St., Malabar

In 1929 Arthur became a notable member of the local Volunteer Fire Brigade, located in Raglan St, opposite to where he lived with his new family. Arthur was an active member until 1965, just over 35 years, being given life long membership and a medal for long and outstanding service.

Arthur was also a founding member of the “Long Bay Social Club”, set up to assist, and provide sustenance and entertainment for those unfortunates who had settled at Long Bay after losing their livelihoods, homes and sometimes families during the "Great Depression"

By this time, Arthur and Doris had another daughter to feed; Beverley Frances born in late 1928. Doris had also had stillborn child during this period, and the family must have been in turmoil. His health began to suffer, and on doctor’s orders, he moved withhis family to Shoalhaven Heads; his old stomping grounds of the South coast of NSW. The family lived in the back of his truck until he found somewhere to rent.

Baby Beverley being Bathed

After six months respite, he returned to Malabar renting a house in Raglan Street, while building a new house for his family, next to his parent’s home in Austral St. Many friends aided him in his building work; the blueprints were donated to, and are now held by the Randwick and District Historical Society.

One boon for this period was the wreck of the ship"The Malabar" in 1931. Despite the official efforts in trying to stop the public taking home the the cargo that had washed ashore, or floated in the bay, the temptation was too much for many Long Bayresidents; with barrels of butter, nails, wood and many more useful and evenlife-saving items being there for the taking. Items were hidden when Custom's Officers came to investigate the missing cargo. The SS Malabar contributed to the suburb in one more very important way, and that was its name; In 1933, Long Bay was officially renamed "Malabar"

Life went on relatively smoothly,for Arthur and Doris, though busy working, dancing and raising three daughters; Marjorie had been born in 1933. The beginning of World WarII began to impose hardship on the population once more. Being good at his business served him well, and he soon gained employment with the Royal Australian Naval Dockyards as a carrier of goods. Many of the invoices from this period show that he was indeed a very busy man. He continued his work with the dockyards until 1954; well after the war had ended.

Dances were an integral part of their lives as well as other social activities like organising cricket matches between the warders of Long Bay and Emu Plains Prisons. All the players would load themselves on the back of "Dependable" and Arthur would drive the many miles out past Penrith for the game

Arthur, along with his father and other family members was a member of the Long Bay Masonic Lodge which is still operating strongly today

Arthur passed away in 1985, aged 87, with 8 grandchildren, and 15 great grandchildren, loved by all, he was not just a family man, but an integral part of the whole community


Arthur and Doris with Great Grandson, Patrick, 1981

Sources:
National Archives of Australia, WWI personnel record
Family papers, diaries and photographs
NSW Registry for Births, Deaths and Marriages
Archives of NSW photos on Flicka and the National Library of Australia
Notes taken by his daughter, Marjorie Roberts from talking to her father
Australian Electoral Rolls
Randwick : a social history

Memories of my early school years

2010-01-16T17:09:00.000+11:00

In 2009, Malabar Public School, enjoyed 100 years of being a local school with a very close knit community. Alison Jones put together a book to celebrate this Centenary, containing history and anecdotes from pupils and staff, past and present. As a past pupil, this was my contribution, although what was published in the book, "The history of Malabar Public School : celebrating over 100 years" was an unedited version of my story which appears in full below.

School Begins!

My first day of school, January 1960

Malabar Public School, NSW
1960-1967

I began my education at Malabar Public School aged four and a half in 1960. My mother, Marjorie Roberts (1938-43) and her sisters, Doreen (1932-37) & Beverley had all attended the same school during the 30’s and 40’s. My mother’s strongest recollection of primary school was during the period of WWII, when the students were taught how to hide under the school desk, whenever an air raid siren sounded. This, and learning how to use a gas mask, must have been both fun and scary for a young girl. Her other memory was of being rapped over the knuckles with a ruler as she wrote with her left hand which was unacceptable in those days – everyone should write with their right hand! Many of my great aunts and uncles, born between 1896 and 1916 also attended Malabar after the Roberts family arrived in the area in 1911. Many of my second cousins were also students there – one was even in my class! And I believe that another generation of the original Roberts clan still attends this great school.

Malabar Public School, 1940, 1st class

Marjorie Roberts, mother of Linda Smith, is seated 6th from Left in second row

On my first day, my mother walked me to school, with a banana and a vegemite sandwich wrapped in grease-proof paper rolling around in my large (to me) cardboard school case. We walked along the middle of Austral Street, which in the 60’s had no street guttering and had beautiful coral trees all along the road. Houses were built only on one side of the road; the rest was heath-land, all the way to Little Bay. I wasn’t scared, nor excited, just full of wonder.

The Kindergarten classroom was in a new building. Looking back it was probably the best year of my schooling. The classroom was light and bright. There was an aquarium and shells and many different sea objects; rocks, sponges, fish skeletons on display, and I knew I would feel at home there as the beach had always been a part of my young life. I didn’t know much about music, but I was always pleased and delighted when I was chosen to play the triangle – no other instrument interested me. We learnt our arithmetic using brightly coloured Cuisenaire rods, which were always fun to play with and made the early subjects of addition & subtraction, very easy to understand.

As I progressed, school became much harder. Being one of the youngest children in my year, I was put into a class then known as “Transition” – a composite class of 1A & 2B. Many of the children I had started with ended up in the year ahead of me and I ended up with pupils who had started the year after me. The school was very strict and I remember the whole of the Infants school sitting in an old, cold large and dark room, where we had to learn how to tie our shoe laces. No one was allowed to leave for playtime until they had accomplished this (then) almost impossible task. But learn we did – and very quickly as well.

Malabar Public School class photo 1A/2B 1962

Linda Smith 2nd from Right, Bottom Row; 2nd cousin Kenny, 5th from Right, Bottom Row

We learnt to spell by repetition – all the children reciting the letters out loud after the teacher. We could not move on to a new word until the whole class could spell the word correctly. From Second class till this day, I have never forgotten how to spell CAULIFLOWER! The same method was used for learning our times tables; 2x2=4. 2x3=6… but only up to 12x12=144! When it came to multiplying numbers greater than 13, this method caused many difficulties in later years as gadgets like calculators did not exist then.

My strongest memories come from Third class onward. Our teacher, Mrs. Helen Strath, seemed very strict. During those years, both girls and boys were allowed to be caned for misbehaviour, and Mrs. Strath did not tolerate bad or silly behaviour. At one time I was in trouble for something, probably daydreaming, and was told to go to the Headmaster and be given three strokes of the cane. Instead I told him that Mrs. Strath wanted the cane for someone else and I was to take it to her. He gave me the cane and I hid in the bushes for 10 minutes or so, then I returned it to the Headmaster. I was eventually caught out and received five, very painful, strokes across the hand. However one lesson I have never forgotten, was once when Mrs. Strath asked me what I was doing, and I, being smart, answered “nothing” – day dreaming again probably! She would not take that for an answer and I was made to stand in front of the class and demonstrate how a person “Did Nothing”. As I stood there, she asked the rest of the class what I was doing. Class mates called out that I was standing, breathing, blinking, shaking probably as well! So no matter what you may think, you are always doing Something!

The move from the Infants school to the Primary school was a big step. We had never been allowed to interact with the “big kids” and now I was one of them. We were allowed to play on the steel monkey bars and house frame, which were erected on bumpy asphalt down the hill from the Infants school. No one minded if we hurt ourselves, it was all part of the fun of school. Friends would pick each other up to walk to school together and sometimes we would arrive at school early, so we could play without interruption or supervision. We would hide in the coal bin, which was at the end of the toilet block and get up to many stupid things, but no one, so far as I know, was ever seriously hurt; just lots of gravel rash and skinned knees.

Saluting the Flag at morning assembly

However, being in Primary school brought to us all kinds of other activities and duties where you had no choice but to participate. Every morning we would line up in our class, one behind the other, in a straight line while the flag was raised and we sang “God save the Queen”. We had to play games like tunnel ball and other really boring ones that I can’t even remember. We had to learn dances like the “Pride of Erin” where all the girls would sit along the benches while the boys were allowed to choose their preferred partner, and then we would slowly and numbly go round and round listening to dull music, which was played on an old portable stereo set, up in the bottom playground.

The girls liked to play Elastics or Jacks at playtime and lunch. Sometimes we played marbles with the boys, but they had their own games and somehow the areas of play were clearly defined.

One of the horrible rules of my days, was that each child was given a small bottle of milk to drink at morning playtime. The milk would arrive early and be left in crates just inside the gates on Franklin St. No matter how warm or awful the milk tasted, we had to drink it in front of a teacher. You were not allowed to take it away in case you threw it away. Milk at that time was not homogenized as it is today, so there was always a layer of cream at the top which was hard to swallow. The best way of downing this foul stuff was to have a flavoured straw to drink through. The straws were made of paper and had swirls of either chocolate or strawberry powder running up the inside, so when you drank though them, the milk became flavoured – what a great invention they were. The shiny foil lids did come in handy for making interesting things such as Christmas decorations, or we would save them for a “Foil drive”, an early recycling scheme for aluminium.

In Fourth class, 1965, our teacher was named Mr. Savage, but despite his name, he was a very patient teacher. On the 14th of February of the following year, 1966, Australia’s monetary system was to change from pounds, shillings and pence, to decimal currency, and it was Mr. Savage’s job to teach us how to calculate how much a penny, a pound or two shillings was worth in dollars and cents. Now it is part of everyday life, but then it seemed very complicated. There was a song to help us remember the change over that I can still remember; and it goes like this, sung to the tune of “Click Goes the Shears”

“In come the dollars and in come the cents

out go the pounds and the shillings and the pence.

Be prepared folks when the money starts to mix

on the 14th of February 1966.

Clink go the cents folks

clink, clink, clink. Changeover day is closer than you think.

Learn the value of the coins and the way that they appear

and things will be much smoother when the decimal point is here.

In come the dollars and in come the cents

out gp the pounds and the shillings and the pence.

Be prepared folks when the money starts to mix

on the 14th of February 1966”

The change from the Imperial System of Measurement was also gradually changing to the Metric System, so we also had to learn things like how to change miles travelled into kilometers, how tall we were in feet and inches into centimeters, a pint (600 ml) of milk into a litre, and how much we weighed from stones, pounds and ounces into kilograms and that was very difficult. After 40 or more years, I still don’t know how tall I am in centimeters, only what my height is in feet and inches!

In Primary school, each week we had a religious lesson from either an Anglican Minister or a Catholic Priest, for children of the two different faiths. A couple of children in my class, including me, had been Christened in either the Presbyterian or Baptist Church, and we made the argument that, as we were neither part of the Church of England, nor Catholic, we should not have to attend these lessons. It was a pretty weak argument in reality, but we got away with it. Instead we were given (what we thought) the exciting tasks of going to the cake shop to buy morning tea for the teachers, or making copies of new work sheets using what was known as a Roneo machine or mimeograph. This was an early form of photocopying, but much more complicated. The task was accomplished by feeding individual sheets of foolscap sized paper through a roller that copied the image from a stencil, using methylated spirits and ink, which was poured into the machine, so that blue and blurry images and words would appear on the new pages.

By Fifth class we were beginning to be the “big kids” of the primary school, and the teacher that I loved and respected most of all teachers I have ever encountered, taught us that responsibility went hand in hand with being more senior. His name was Mr. Beath. Fifth class was when we gave up writing in lead pencil, and learnt “running writing” using pen and ink. Each desk had a hole where the inkwell was placed, and our pens were made from plastic and had replaceable metal nibs, for an easy change over when the nibs became bent, broken or split. If our writing was passable, we received our “pen license”, which meant we were now able to do our work using a pen, such as a Bic or Biro.

The Senior School was forming a choir, and each child had to try out for it by singing alone, in front of all our class mates, and be judged by the teachers as to whether we would be accepted or not. It was a very frightening experience and I remember how frustrated the teachers became when we were singing a Gilbert and Sullivan song with the lyrics “…Tit willow, tit willow….” – we would all burst out giggling as this was basically a forbidden word for children to say, then we would have to start the song all over again. Even after the explanation that a “Tit” was a type of bird, we could not stop giggling!

Mr. Beath also taught us a degree of religious tolerance and understanding, in days when many children, began to skip Sunday School, and instead go to the beach. But on Ash Wednesday in1966, which in the Christian Calendar is the first day of Lent, in the lead up to Easter, Mr. Beath came to school with an ash cross marked on his forehead. Many of us were confused, but he calmly explained the religious symbolism of the cross and why he chose to appear publicly with his beliefs so visible, as well as why we did not have to if we didn’t believe in the church. Each person was entitled to their own beliefs, and no one should condemn or chastise another because of those beliefs, or non beliefs. If kindergarten was the best year of my schooling, Mr. Beath was by far the very best teacher in all my years of ongoing learning.

By far the most exciting time at school for me, was the beginning of each year when you bought your new exercise books and covered them with brown paper and cut out specially produced pictures from magazines where spaces were provided for you to put your name, class and school. Before each new school year began I was allowed a new pen and lead pencils, but the most important luxury for me was being allowed to buy a new coloured pencil – a “Derwent ©” coloured pencil! During school holidays, my mother would take me into the city to a specialist stationary shop, and each term I was allowed one new coloured pencil. The range of colours available amazed and astonished me. Each time, it probably took me an hour to decide which colour I would like. These pencils were never wasted, and I still have the stub, about an inch long, of a bright purple one, which was (and still is) one of my favourite colours. Our pencil cases were important too. We had wooden ones that had a sliding lid, and compartments for your rubber and lead pencils, and it would then swing out to reveal your coloured pencils underneath.

School Badge

Malabar Public School always took sport seriously, after all, the school motto is “Play the Game”. In summer the girls played softball and we played basketball (now known as Netball) in the winter. There was an A and B team, with fierce competition to be chosen for the “A” team. Every Friday afternoon we played against the other local primary schools, including Soldiers Settlement, La Perouse, Chifley, Matraville, Maroubra Bay and Botany.

One year, both basketball teams from our class went to Queanbyean, near Canberra for a weekend of competition against their school team. This was organized by Miss Hallam. I can’t remember who won, but it was fun, even though we had never really experienced such cold weather. We each stayed, or were “billeted” at the home of one of the girls from the opposing team. This in effect, made us all friends, and was a very interesting learning, sporting and socializing experience.

Basketball B Team with billets at Queanbeyan

Playing sport amongst other local schools, and becoming friends with them, was a great asset when we went to the Schools Camp at Broken Bay during 4th and 5th class. We already knew some of the other pupils, so it was not as intimidating as it might have been if we had had no contact with our new bunk mates beforehand.

“Broken Bay National Fitness Camp” was a real adventure for those of us that attended. We had to catch a train to Brooklyn, located on the Hawkesbury River, and then we were taken across to the camp by boat. With our suitcases, it was a steep climb up to the camp itself. When we were all assembled, we were allocated huts or lodges for 6 students share and sleep. It was a mixture of fun and responsibility at all times. We explored aboriginal caves and rock art on bush walks, we learnt how to use a bow and arrows, build camp fires, learn new songs, how to make a bull-roarer and do wood work…. all sorts of activities that I had not participated in before. On the other hand, every morning we had “Bunk inspection” and our beds had to be made perfectly. We also had a daily roster of camp duties, in which everyone had to take a turn. These included cleaning the ablutions (toilet - shower blocks), being put on “slops duty” at mealtimes, which meant that all plates were handed to you, and you had to scrape the remains of the mostly inedible food into a great bin, then wash the dishes. But all the same it was a fabulous experience being able to mix with others, as well as learning and exploring places outside of the experiences of our small community at Malabar – a time to see other possibilities in the world.

During my years at Malabar Public School, there was no school library, nor was the present branch of the Randwick Library yet built. I have always loved reading, and I looked forward to the monthly arrival of the “Mobile Library” – a bus that could only handle two or three students at a time, as shelves lined each wall and we only had a narrow isle in which to search for new treasures. So we had to wait patiently in line for our turn to scrounge the well known shelves for something new to read. This was another place where I had trouble making up my mind in what to choose, but always came away with a load of books to see me through to its next visit.

In 1967, Sixth class was my final year and the study became serious, as our marks would determine which grade we would be put into at high school (1A, for the brightest students, down to 1E). What we studied is hard to remember. Some lessons were done with the aid of an ABC schools radio program, to which we had to listen attentively, in order to complete projects. Discipline was still very strict, and sports taken just as seriously, and somehow we survived. However it was also a very uncertain period as we were transforming once again; this time from being the “Big Kids” in a small school, to the ‘little kids” in a Big School. There was no orientation program, or opportunity to look at what our future (for most of us) at Matraville High would be like. So with a sense of pride at completing the last year of Primary School, I also felt a tinge of fear as to what the future would bring.

The end of school brought about one extraordinary event though, which I can’t pass up telling. Exams finished, we were allowed a party in the storage room under the Infants class rooms. Our parents prepared lots of cakes, fruit salads and sandwiches as well as soft drinks, which we brought along especially for the big celebration. Being our last day at Malabar Public School, we did not have to wear our uniform, so all dressed up, ready for the next stage of our life, we had an explosion of silliness which ended up in a massive food fight. We had cream and drinks and all sorts of gunk staining our clothes and sticking in our hair – what a way to go!

6th class farewell - dancing like dags (Left) while the School Captain gives a speech (right)

Owen Smith: An Eternal Casualty

2009-11-24T16:36:00.001+11:00

The Short Life of Owen Smith

My Paternal Uncle, Private Owen Smith from Glen Innes, was a member of the 2/18 Battalion A.I.F. He was taken prisoner at the fall of Singapore in mid February 1942. After spending a few months at Changi, he was transported to Sandakan, Borneo. In a show of extraordinary will to live, Owen actually made it to the 110 mile peg, Ranau Jungle Camp 2 on the second (forced) march, but died the next day, on 27 June 1945.

The death of Uncle Owen deeply affected the dynamics of my family life - he was the only brother of my father. After Dad's passing, I found a letter from Owen that Dad had carried in his wallet for 64 years - very faint and barely readable. It was written in October 1941, before the fall of Singapore, sharing what his days were like and giving my Dad advice on how to conduct himself (at that time Dad was too young to join the forces and was in the Citizen's Militia).

Owen was the eldest of 5 children, born to William Thomas and Gertrude “Olive” Smith (nee Wotton) in Glen Innes in 1920. His siblings were Coral (1922-1934), who died of “chronic valvular disease”, my father Geoffrey (1923-2005), his sister Joan (1925-2004), and Nola (1926-1986), who was born intellectually disabled and needed institutional care her whole life. Their mother, Olive died in childbirth with Nola in 1926, leaving her young children motherless.

Their father William, was a drover, and often away from home. After their mother’s death, the children lived with their Grandmother, Agnes Jane Smith (nee Johnson), at Wentworth St. Glen Innes, until her death in 1933. After their Grandmother’s death, the 3 remaining children were split up, and sent to live with various Aunts and Uncles, who gave priority to their own brood of children during the difficult Depression years of 1929-1939. Money was scarce as they grew up, and life was hard, and winters cold, on the New England Tablelands. However the last straw came when their father passed away from a heart condition in 1938, leaving Owen, Geoff and Joan orphaned. Owen, as the eldest, took over the welfare of his brother and sister. Both brothers worked as farm labourers to help support themselves and Joan; schooling was not an option.

When WWII broke out, Owen along with many other men from the New England area, was quick to join the 2/18 Battalion, who were recruiting in that area. Eventually Dad joined the AIF, and served in New Guinea and Southern Borneo.

However he was not notified that Owen was listed as a POW until July 1944, although Owen’s army records have notations indicating that he was a known POW as early as April 1943. Dad was told of his death in September 1945 and was discharged from the AIF on compassionate grounds.

It was in 1948 that he was finally informed by telegram that, according to Japanese POW records, Owen had died of Malaria. Malnutrition and exhaustion would have been a contributing factor. How he survived for so long under those atrocious conditions is any body’s guess, especially given the complaints he had written about, just being stationed in Malaya! In the end, only six men survived the years in Northern Borneo, by escaping and being cared for by local villagers.

A provisional surrender by Japan was accepted on the 15th August 1945. The terms of this surrender included "...the prompt cessation of hostilities by the Japanese forces". These conditions were accepted by Emperor Hirohito who issued an Imperial receipt to the Allied Powers accepting these terms, It was reported in The Herald newspaper that "The Emperor undertook to to issue commands to the Japanese naval and air forces and all forces under their control, wherever they were located, to cease active operations and to surrender their arms...." The Japanese commanders in Borneo were aware of the surrender and its conditions, as 3 days later, the RAAF dropped leaflets over Ranau, informing these remote forces. However, no POW's were left alive at Ranau after this declaration. I believe the Japanese were hoping there would be no one left to tell of the atrocities inflicted upon the prisoners in their care, being unaware of the six escapees.

Those years must have been long and torturous for Dad and Auntie Joan; the not knowing, and full of worry. Along with the death of so many other family members, the death of Owen left Dad and his sister Joan totally alone and lost, with no real idea of what family life, as most know it, was like; with no one to guide or help them along life’s path.

Owen's official Army details are:

Pte. Owen Smith NX26029

Born: 3 February 1920 (Glen Innes, NSW)

Attested: Glen Innes Showground 1 June 1940

Enlisted: 14 June 1940 (Paddington, NSW)

2/18 Battalion B Coy.

Embarked on board HMT “Queen Mary” on 2 February 1941 Sydney

Disembarked Singapore 18 Feb. 1941

POW Changi, Singapore 16 February 1942

Transported to Sandakan 7 July 1942 aboard the Yubi Maru [B Force]

Arrived Sandakan Harbour on 18 July 1942

Was part of the Second Death March to Ranau

Died: 27 June 1945, Ranau, Number 2 Jungle Camp, Borneo

He is commemorated on the Labuan Memorial, Panel number 11

Many of the details of Owen’s life as a Japanese POW would never have been known except for the hard work and dedication of Lynette Silver, who as an historian has spent many, many years, dedicating her time to find out what really happened at Sandakan, the Death Marches and the camps at Ranau, as well as leading pilgrimages for family members each year.

Taken for the family by a participant at the 2002 Sandakan Anzac Day Memorial Service

Owen’s picture is first on right, bottom row

I have one other treasure from Owen which is in very poor condition, and that is the photo below.

On reverse of this “Carte Postale” is written:

“This is a snap of some of the boys from my Division [8th], and myself, not a very good one!

Owen"

There is no stamp to indicate date or place this was taken.

I think Owen is the first man on the left, kneeling down

Sometimes I feel that had those 2,428 men been saved, with the guidance of Owen to aid my Dad, my upbringing would have been very different, but we must accept things as they are and go on.

Although we can forgive, we must never forget the brutality these men suffered. We can but admire the bravery of all those soldiers who joined the Australian Military Forces in the name of God, King and Country or just for the adventure, but never expected their lives to be cut so short under such excruciating conditions.

Lest we forget

References:

Australian War Memorial
Australian War Graves Commission
Lynette Ramsay Silver – Sandakan : a conspiracy of silence, 1998
Lynette Ramsay Silver – http://lynettesilver.com
NSW BDM Registry
Personal papers held by myself
The Herald; No. 21293, Melbourne, Wednesday Evening August 15, 1945

Arthur Thomas Herbert Roberts : Thoughts in Rhyme

2009-11-11T19:27:00.001+11:00

I am beginning to sort the boxes of papers and photographs that my Mother had accumulated over the years from various family cleanups. What surprises awaited me! My Grandfather, a man of few words, and strict with his children and grandchildren, was at heart a rebel and a poet. Scribbled on bits of paper, torn and tattered, I found four pieces of writing. If these are the words of someone else, my apologies, as all efforts to verify their originality have been taken. I have taken the liberty to illustrate his words, otherwise all credit goes to A.T.H. Roberts.(1898-1984)

To our Pals the “Red Caps"

ON LEAVE IN LONDON 1916

I landed in London and straight away strolled

To have a clean-up down at Horseferry Road

When a buckshee Lance Corporal

Said Pardon me Please

You have blood on your tunic

And mud on your knees!

As a soldier I gave him a murderous glance

And said I have come from the trenches in France

Where shrapnel and bullets and comforts are few

And brave men are dying for “Bastards” like you

BETTER LUCK IN PARIS

I am here with a woman of vice tonight

Whom I chanced to meet in a Paris Street

Her eyes so challenging whispered come

Though her red luscious lips were dumb

And wrong was victor, I murdered right

I slept with that woman of vice that night

And I’d do the same thing a thousand times o’er

Although the world called me a fool

Note on the slang used: from Australian National Dictionary Centre

1. Red Cap: A Military Policeman

B&P provide the following expanded definition of ‘red cap’ as used in World War I: ‘So called because they wore a sort of lid of red flannel over the top of their khaki caps. The most hated and despised men in France. Employed sometimes for the regulation of traffic, but chiefly to walk about the streets, examine passes, bully private soldiers, arrest absentees and generally exhibit truculence and self-satisfaction. They were also employed to staff military prisons and by all accounts revelled in the secret opportunities for cruelty which the job gave them. Red Caps were not voluntary and no decent man would undertake it if he realized what it implied.’

2. Horseferry Rd: Where A.I.F headquarters were situated
3. Buckshee: A prize, a catch, a windfall, something for nothing

After WWI, Granddad who had been Totally and Permanently Injured with a piece of shrapnel lodged in his temple, received a Government Pension. However Granddad was not to be stopped! He caught and sold fish, carted coal, was a Volunteer Fireman for more than 25 years, grew his own fruit and vegetables, kept chickens for meat and eggs, cows for milk and bees for honey; nothing was wasted - he would collect and sell scrap metal, involved himself in community events and committees - never an idle moment, except to listen to the radio news at 6pm. But Granddad was a thinker, and though these thoughts were never verbalized to family members, for posterity, or his own peace of mind, he scribbled those thoughts in moments of reflection. Below are two more examples of his views on the way society was headed, firstly during WWII (when he carted goods to the Naval Yards) and another, later in life, as he saw his beautiful home suburb of Malabar changing because of people's indifferent attitudes.

NATIONAL NOT RATIONAL

The worlds all topsy

This country’s gone real mad

Its worse than in depression time

And god knows they were bad

For then we had no money

To buy our daily bread

Now we all have cash to burn

But we may as well be dead

Our working hours are twice as long

We work till fit to drop

The government’s got the tax craze

And don’t know when to stop

First they ration water

Then they started on the beer

Even kids have rationed milk

There’s something very queer

They blame the manpower shortage

Well they must have some excuse

If you growl you’re not fair dinkum

So what’s the blooming use?

They tell you there’s a war on

And each must play their part

I have just begun to wonder

When They are going to start

LITTER BUGS

Imagine what it would be like to see

This beauty spot without a tree

A leaf of grass or flower bud

Or bee

But only litter

Left by you or me