Читать книгу Our World did not Create Itself - P.J. O'Brien - Страница 3

One of my very first memories was a trip Pa and I took together to Ensay, the tiny town in eastern Victoria where Pa grew up. I won’t forget it because he entertained me with stories and tales of the history of the region all the way. In this chapter, Pa discusses that history, from our Irish ancestry through to now.

When did your ancestors arrive in Australia?

John William O'Brien was born in Limerick, Ireland, in 1842. Like many of the Irish, he was forced to leave Ireland by harsh British rulers in 1859. He spent some time in Ballarat where he met his future bride, Bridget Leonard. She was also born in Limerick in 1844 and arrived in Australia at the age of 18.They were married at St Alipius' Church, Ballarat on February 20, 1867.

After their marriage, they settled in the Barnawartha district, growing mainly wheat. While at Barnawartha, Con (my Grandfather), Tom, Hattie, Dan, Jack, and Maggie, were born. Jim, Bridget, and William were born after they moved to Negoura. However, at that time new areas were being offered for settlement and in 1877 John set out to explore possibilities. After looking at parts of Southern New South Wales, he then journeyed to the Omeo district where he met John Hayward, a pioneer in the district. Mr Hayward took him to inspect a property then known as 'Kangaroo Ground’, near Swifts Creek.

He liked what he saw, and later in 1877 applied for 5000 acres of sheep and cattle grazing land. The application was granted and thus began the famous holding of “Negoura.” In 1879, John set out from Barnawartha in a wagon drawn by three draught horses, taking most of the family possessions. His second son, Tom, then aged eight, accompanied him on horseback. It took four weeks to reach Bairnsdale. Leaving the wagon there, the twosome returned to Sale to meet the rest of the family, who had travelled by train. The family then travelled by boat through the Gippsland Lakes and the Mitchell River to Bairnsdale.

The harrowing journey up the rough tracks of the Tambo Valley where there were no roads, took two and a half weeks. Some years later, the wife of one of the boys had just returned from Melbourne after giving birth and complaining of being tired. “Tired,” Grandma retorted.“What ails ye woman? “When this one, pointing to Maggie, was six-weeks old, I travelled in a tilted wagon from Barnawartha to Swifts Creek, and all I had to sit on was a set of harrows.”

Not surprisingly, Bridget remembered that trip all her life. Apparently, during the journey, she had bathed Maggie in Shady Creek. Just before her death, she was bedridden at Maggie's home in Dandenong, and thanking Maggie for sponging and settling her comfortably, said “God bless you Maggie. I'm glad I didn't drown you in Shady Creek.” Bridget died in 1943, while John had predeceased her in 1906.

Bridget, the eighth born, was the last to die in 1975, only two years before the grand centenary reunion, which was held at Swifts Creek in 1977. It was a memorable event with Mass in the Swifts Creek Church, and a giant barbeque at the local football ground. I thoroughly enjoyed the stories and hilarious company, and the giggling of so many women. The O'Brien's were great storytellers, even if truth was stretched a little at times.

The older boys, Con, Tom, Dan, Jack, and Jim moved to their own property in subsequent years. Con acquired a property at Bald Hill Creek, a few miles out of Swifts Creek, Tom a property on the Benambra side of Omeo, Dan had ‘Croom’ on the Tambo River at Tongio, Jack had ‘Gourenalla’ on the Tambo at Swifts Creek, and Jim had ‘Fernlea’ on the Tambo at Ensay. Will, the youngest son, remained on Negoura until his death in 1956. Sadly, Negoura was sold in 1970, almost one hundred years after its selection.

The eldest girl, Hattie, married Alf McManus. They settled on an undeveloped block at Cornelia Creek, near Strathallan, but eventually returned to the family holding “Mantua” at Kilmore. Maggie married Jim Rice who had entered business in the general store in Cowwarr, later purchasing the Swifts Creek Club. In 1925, they moved to Dandenong and both died there. Bridget married Billy Ruth, who had come to the district as a teacher. They retired to Essendon after producing nine children, with eldest son, Frank, the only Priest of all the family. In all, John and Bridget had thirty seven grandchildren.

My grandfather, Con, developed severe asthma and was advised to seek a warmer climate, so in 1898 moved with his wife, Julie Mary (nee White), his son Jack (my father), and daughter Eileen, to Deniliquin in the Riverina district of Southern New South Wales. I do not know much of the history of Con at Deniliquin, but I do know that he was a Rabbit Inspector. In 1905, he returned to his Bald Hill Creek property until 1917, when his health gave way again. He again went north to Kyabram where he was employed by an auctioneering firm, and while there purchased the small farm that later caused probate problems (probate was a tax on estates.) My father went to secondary school at St. Patrick’s, College, Ballarat. Mum was educated by the Brigidine Sisters at Echuca. I am not aware of how they met, but after they married in 1929 they lived on the farm at Kyabram, where Con, Terry, myself, and Noreen were born.

Because of the Depression, and the fact that probate had to be paid twice, when Con and Julie died within two years of each other, the farm had to be sold. Dad obtained a position with a Bairnsdale Stock and Station Firm, A MacArthur & Co, as the Swifts Creek representative. So in 1937, our family returned to Swifts Creek where we lived in the school house for twelve months. When the Principal of the school decided to marry, he required the house, so we moved to Ensay. In 1940, Dad rented a property from a widow, Mrs Fraser, at Ensay South.

In 1947, Jim O’Brien had serious health problems and decided to sell Fernlea. Dad was able to purchase it from his Uncle Jim, and so Fernlea stayed in the O’Brien name for another fifty years. After Dad died on January 21, 1994, Con continued to rent the farm. Mum remained there until 1998. During the 1990’s, Con’s sheep became infected with a wasting disease, Johnnies, and the flock had to be sold. By this time Con was 68 and could not envisage starting again from scratch, so the decision was made to sell Fernlea. Brian had died in 1997, and Mum required care, so moved into an elderly citizens home in Bairnsdale. So the sixty-year connection with Ensay was broken when Con moved to Bairnsdale. While there is no reason to go back, a small part of my heart is still in Ensay.

Did you know any of the original family?

Oh yes! I saw Bridget in Dandenong when I was staying with Auntie Ditt Ruth to make my first Communion in 1942. She was then an old lady of ninety-eight lying in a bed. She died in 1943. I also met Tom, Dan, Hattie, Jack, Maggie, Jim, Bridget (Ditt) and Will. The only one I didn’t meet was my grandfather, Con.

It was a tradition that the family, and whatever descendants were available, should gather at Negoura for Christmas night tea. At lunch, a gathering of over fifty was the rule rather than the exception. I remember tearing around the Negoura garden with many other cousins in the dark. I suppose I thought this sort of activity was the norm, but I now realise that the O’Brien family was not the norm. At the reunion of 1977, there were some 250 descendants, and by the second reunion in 1987, the number had grown to 420. A fair contribution to John and Bridget O’Brien’s new nation, Australia.

My parents and siblings.

Whilst I met my great-grandfather, I don’t remember much of him. I was however lucky enough to remember my great-grandmother, Clare Marie O'Brien, and many of Pa’s siblings. Pa was the third-born, after Con and Terry, then Noreen, Brian and Greg followed. In this section we talk about Pa’s parents and his relationship with his siblings.

You included a chapter about your Dad in your first book about his story-telling ability and relating some of the stories he told. You mentioned to me that after he died, you realised that you had never really talked to either of them about their life before you came along. So you made sure to ask your Mum?

Yes, we talked about a lot of things. For instance, I didn’t know that she trained as a milliner before she married. She also told me of the tough times during the Great Depression and the War. She did say that Dad was lucky to have work at the Cream Factory in Kyabram. They also had a small farm and were able to grow much of their own produce.

As mentioned earlier, probate tax had a serious effect on their finances. Dad’s father, Con O’Brien, died in July, 1927, and left half the farm to his wife, and half to Dad. Of course, probate had to be paid. Then in November 1929, Dad’s mother died, with probate to be paid again. So two lots of probate had to be paid within two years. It was a terrible curse to farming families. While they were asset rich in the land they owned, probate had to be paid in cash, of which they had very little. So this burden meant they eventually had to sell the farm, and in 1937 they came back to Swifts Creek.

What was your Mother like?

She was a typical farmer’s wife, very much about family, church, and community. She was a hard task-master and expected obedience. She was very efficient, but was a worrier. She worried about things that she couldn’t alter which taught me a good lesson. It made me realise that there is no point in worrying. But that was the way she was.

She was like most country wives. If there was a crisis in the district, the first thing she did was turn the stove on. She would just start cooking, and food would appear in copious amounts for someone in need. To Mum, if there was a fire or someone had died, the first thing you did was take food around.

Did she have a good sense of humor like you?

Yes, she did, but she didn’t talk as much nonsense as I do. But what Mum said, she meant. Brian used to tell us "do as your mother tells you." But that did not always apply to him.

Your brother Brian was Down Syndrome, he and your mother must have been very close, were they?

Oh yes. When I discussed it with her, I realised how shocked she was about Brian being Down Syndrome. She realised, before the doctor, that there was something wrong. I suppose it was a mother’s instinct, but she knew something was not right with him, so was not surprised when the doctors told her he had Down Syndrome.

That must've been very hard for her. But anyway, she brought him home, where he lived a pretty happy life on the farm at Fernlea. He had his chores, like filling the wood box from the wood heap, feeding the chooks, and sweeping the back verandah each morning. Woe betide us, if we were home and the wood supply at the wood heap was low. We would get the rounds of the kitchen from Brian, by telling us we were “bugger useless.” He also delivered the morning and afternoon tea when we were shearing and sometimes helped by sweeping the board in the shed. Economically, he was of no great value, but he was the cement in our family, and loved by the Ensay community. He could be very stubborn. Dad informed him one day that Con would be crutching sheep the next day, and would need him to sweep the board. Brian’s response was emphatic. “I’m not going.” Dad eventually stopped arguing with him and said “Why not?” To which Brian replied,“Con didn’t ask me.”

In later years, I was visiting Fernlea and having lunch. As Brian finished he left the table, and was sneaking out, when Mum shouted “Don’t go out, Brian. You have to dry the dishes.” Without breaking stride, Brian’s response was “No, it’s my day off. Pat can do it.” We both laughed, and I said “I’ll pay that one,” and did his job for him.

Mum was always ready to accept her responsibilities without demanding her rights. She was very generous with her time and talents, but never had much money, so was pretty thrifty.

Was she happy?

I would say most of the time... It’s funny you should ask that. In those days you didn't really think about "am I happy or not?" You mostly just got on with life. You know, she was married with a family and that was her job. But she wouldn’t buy a dress unless Dad liked it.

What was your Dad like? Were they a good team?

Pretty much. I suppose Dad was a lot like me. He was a bit selfish. He could be a bit gruff at times. But we all got on pretty well. In June 1958, when we decided to get engaged, Ann (your Nana) was at home for the weekend. We were having breakfast on the Monday morning and I was pretty shy about talking about it but wanted to get it over with so I blurted out “Ann and I have decided to get married.” He was taken aback and asked “when?” which was what I probably deserved. But he was pretty pleased.

Did your parents know Nana and her family?

Oh yes. They came to Bindi in 1946 and we got to know them through the Church, football, and in small communities, everybody knows everybody. They were there for about six years until her mother got very ill. Like us years later, they had to move to be near a hospital, so they sold out, and went to Maffra. Ann’s father coached the Swifts Creek football team, and her brothers Terry and Peter played for them. Terry was a good player but did his knee when he was 16 and couldn't play anymore. There were no knee reconstructions in those days.

What was the order of your family in age?

Con was the eldest, then Terry, myself, Noreen, Brian and Greg.

Were you close with them?

Yes, we had our moments but mostly got on well together. I remember one incident when I was about 15. Terry was a bit of a larrikin and he pushed the envelope a bit. With the great wisdom of a 15 year-old, I told him he was drinking and going to the pub a bit too much!

Coming from a younger sibling, that wouldn't have gone down well would it?

No. He took no notice of such good advice. Terry was a good sportsman, tennis, football etc. Tragically, Terry was killed in a car accident in unusual circumstances. Along with cousin Bill O’Brien from Swifts Creek, and a local roustabout, George Merrifield, he had attended the 1956 Melbourne Cup. Returning home the next day, he was driving out of Dandenong along the Princes Highway, passing the large industrial complex, and moved out to pass a car when he saw a truck advancing from the opposite direction but decided there was not enough room. As he pulled in behind the car he had intended to pass, the front bumper bar of his car hooked onto the rear bumper of the other car, his car was spun around and he was thrown onto the road just as the truck came. He was killed instantly while Bill and George were unhurt.. At that time the Princes Highway was just a two-lane road and of course there were no seat belts. His untimely death sent shockwaves through the whole community. While we were all devastated, I don’t think my parents, particularly my father, ever really got over this family tragedy.

At his funeral, Reg Tomkins, a very good player with Benambra, told me that he admired Terry’s commitment and courage. He said he remembered one particular day when Terry came at him like a bull at a gate,“I saw him coming and just moved out of the road.” It was a nice compliment but I know that Reg would not have shirked the issue. So Terry meant it when he was playing. Con was pretty fast, Greg and I could take a good mark, and to use a famous Jack Dyer quote, we were “good handy” players who did our best. The four of us played a few games together before Terry died. He was only 23.

Terry and I and Bill McLarty had been shearing at Leonards, which was next to what had been my grandfather’s farm at Bald Hill Creek. We had finished that shed but Bill and I came back on the day before the Melbourne Cup to shear Alan Nicholson’s flock in the same shed. We finished about lunch time on the Wednesday and I had intended to go to the Omeo Show which was on that day. However, I did not have a car and decided to help Alan finish baling his wool and then went into Swifts Creek with him. After a few beers with Alan, I walked across the road to the local cafe, when good friends Max and Heather Duggan from Ensay pulled up in front of me. Large as life, I began to chat to them but it took me a short while to realise that they were feeling very uncomfortable. They had been at the Show and had heard the news that Terry had been killed. They soon realised that I had no idea about the accident, and I don’t remember how they told me, but I will never forget poor Max and Heather’s dilemma. They reacted like good neighbours and drove me home to Fernlea to a very sombre household.

What was the age difference between you?

Con was born in 1930, Terry 1933, me in 1935, Noreen in 1936, Brian in 1938 and Greg in 1940. In 1960, we won a premiership in which Con, Greg and I all played. Kate, I must tell you the story about Con and his running prowess. Con was a handy runner and they used to hold two meetings at Omeo on the ANA weekend in January each year. This weekend was later replaced by Australia Day. Con won the St.Patrick’s Gift one year, when our Aunty Nell and husband Charlie Keating were staying with us. Charlie and Nell didn’t have children of their own. Charlie was very proud of his nephews and was full of praise for Con’s effort. That night, after celebrating with a few drinks, Charlie excitedly invited Con to come to Bendigo in March. “You should come and win the Bendigo 10000!”

“Oh. I am not good enough to win the Bendigo feature race. There are some very good runners competing. No, I couldn’t win it,” Con replied. “Of course you could! What’s to stop you?” exploded our beloved Uncle.

Con didn’t go to Bendigo, so didn’t win the big race.

What was Noreen up to during all of this? She was obviously a character.

Oh yes! She was worse than Mum. If we were going to a function at say 8pm, Noreen believed everyone should be ready by around 6.30pm. Or going to the football starting at 2.30pm, all had to be ready by 1pm. She played basketball which began at 2pm, before the football. It was called that in those days, but it was much the same as netball is today. Anyhow, I used to get the hurry up from Noreen if I didn’t move fast enough. But she was very useful by cleaning our boots and getting our gear ready. She was also a great help to Mum.

Your Mum died on June 27, 2001. Is there anything else you wanted to add, that you learned from her?

Not really! We would hear bits and pieces about the farm and friends and her school life with the Brigidine Sisters in Echuca. She was pleased that they were in Traralgon teaching our girls. She told me that Con got the rounds of the kitchen one day when he was supposed to be watching me. He apparently became distracted, and I fell into a water channel, and could have drowned. Also, the day Con and Terry and some friends were having a puff. When quizzed by Dad, Con vehemently denied that he had been smoking, but Terry, only a little tacker, spoiled that story when he boasted “I had a puff, Dad.”

Which reminds me that Con and Noreen smoked, but Terry, Greg and I never did. When Doctors have asked me if I ever smoked, my reply has been “Not since I had to start buying my own.” I suppose I had no more than about half a dozen smokes in my life. I couldn’t see the sense in spending money, of which I had little, and then setting fire to it. I smile in irony when I hear people criticizing tobacco companies ‘because they didn’t tell us that smoking was bad for us.’ If anyone didn’t know that pouring smoke down your neck and into your lungs wouldn’t do harm, then they’re kidding themselves. I am no genius but it was pretty obvious to me.

I assume that as far as support for raising Brian, there wouldn't have been such a thing as any sort of government assistance?

I think there possibly was, but they just never investigated. I know they received assistance towards the end of Brian’s life.

But that's some fifty years later?

Yes, so it is. There may have been some assistance available, but it would not have been very much. People in those days were very self-supporting. They didn't rush to ask for Government assistance the moment something happened. It wasn’t natural to ask for help, if the family could take care of it. And it would not have made a lot of difference. He was just another child in the family, and had to be clothed and fed. If you have six children and another visitor comes, all you do is put another spud in the pot, and all is well. Whereas if you've got no children and three visitors come, it’s a bloody disaster! I mean you are not set up like my mum or your mother was, so if four people walk in you would not be prepared and would have to go to the pub or restaurant and that's understandable. But that was never an issue at home because we lived off the land a lot. We always grew things, and we had chooks. We often had a pig, who was fed by the skim milk from the separator, which separates the milk from the cream.

Would you cook the pig on the spit?

No, we didn't know anything about that. We would mostly get it cured. Once cured, it doesn’t need to be in a refrigerator. We also killed our own sheep, so we lived off the land pretty much. We had a veggie garden and everybody had a house cow. Remember there was no shop where you could buy milk, because the shop didn't have a refrigerator either.

Which reminds me of another ‘farmer’ story. Fred Margetts was a farmer at Reedy Flat. It is said that as he was milking the cow he would muse ‘that’s enough for Mum’, a little more and ‘that’s enough for John and Maberley’, and ‘damn it all, I don’t want any today, so that will do.’ He wasn’t the best farmer in the district. One year when they were shearing, Fred went missing one morning and the shearers were running out of sheep, which is a no-no, as shearers hate hot sheep to shear. It was getting later and later, but finally Fred appeared. One of the shearers, Tom Cooper, berated him, “Where have you been? We are going to have hot sheep if you don’t get some more here in a hurry. ”

Fred replied,"Oh hell, I am sorry, but I can't find my cow! I milked her yesterday, and I can't find her."

Shortly after, they were walking to the house for lunch when Tom looked up at the yard and said, "Fred, isn’t that a cow in the bail up there?”

Oh! Hell. I must have forgotten to let her out after milking yesterday,” Fred replied.

I have deviated from talking about my Mother. There is not much more to say about Mum, except that she was a very caring person, but not overly affectionate. She wasn't cold but it wasn’t normal to give her a cuddle. She loved us dearly and became a mother to Ann after we married. Ann always appreciated her help and wise advice.

So your Dad died in 1994 aged 90 and your Mum in 2000, so she had six years without him?

More than that! He was in hospital in Omeo for four years before he died. He died mostly from old age but from a combination of other things as well. All of us bar Con had left the district. He lived just down the road from Fernlea and used to take Mum to the Hospital every day to see him, a distance of about forty miles. That was hard on both of them, so I will be forever grateful to Con for what he did for them.

And Con died some time ago?

Yes he died on May 13, 2009, three days after our son Danny and daughter in-law, Vicki, lost their second baby, Finn. Their twins had a genetic condition and Riley had died only an hour after birth, while Finn was with us for eight months. Con was in hospital with multiple problems by that stage. He told me a few weeks earlier that after playing bowls at Bruthen he didn't feel well at all. He had Type 2 diabetes and after arriving home, checked his sugar level. It was a very high 22.

It was pretty traumatic all round because we were in Canberra and intended to return home on the Sunday, which was Mother's Day. Danny came in about 1:30am and said an ambulance was taking Finn to the hospital. He tearfully told us he didn’t think there was much hope. He died that very night. So, naturally we stayed with them. He only lasted for eight months because of the love and care they both gave him. Then on the Monday, Noreen rang me in a state of shock. She said that Con had been told he only had a couple of weeks to live.

So for the second time in two days I was also in a state of shock. Finn’s funeral hadn't been arranged, but I wanted to see Con. Naturally Ann didn't want to leave Danny and Vicki, but I felt I should try to get to see him as soon as possible. I didn't feel like driving by myself all the way so we made enquiries and found there was a bus going to Bairnsdale on the Tuesday. So I took that, and saw Con in the afternoon, and again the next morning. I was grateful for that, because he died on the Wednesday afternoon. By then I knew that Finn’s funeral was to be on the Friday. So I went back to Canberra with Leo, my other son, on the Thursday, and to Finn's funeral on the Friday. We were then told that Con’s funeral was to be on the following Monday.