A special dress for a special day

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 23 | Wedding

Harold Thomas Jory and Ellen Priscilla
Westendorf, wedding portrait, 1913

The wedding of my great-grandparents Harry and Ellen Jory was reported thus by The Horsham Times (Victoria, Australia) on 22 April 1913:

A quiet but pretty wedding was celebrated at Miram when Mr Harry Jory, manager of the Lawloit Times was united in holy wedlock to Miss Ellen Westendorf, daughter of Mr and Mrs Westendorf of Miram. The ceremony was performed by the Rev. Allen of Kaniva in the presence of the young couple’s most intimate friends and relations. After the wedding breakfast had been partaken of and the young couple had received the congratulations of their friends, they took their departure by the evening train to their home at Kaniva.

Many years later, Ellen’s youngest sister Else told me the story of Ellen’s bridal dress.  Apparently, Ellen had told her parents that she would be married in a dress from her current wardrobe.  However, her father Jack didn’t think this was good enough and went to town and purchased the oyster satin gown shown in the bridal photograph as a surprise.  “She was always the favourite”, added Else.

Harry and Ellen enjoyed 43 years of marriage, before Harry died in 1956 at age 70 years.  They had two daughters and three grandchildren.

Frederick McKinlay: a lifetime of service to teaching

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 19 | Service

  

Frederick McKinlay, circa 1890s

This week’s theme makes me think of the public service, an over-arching term used to describe employment in the government sector, including public schools, and one in which many of my family have worked.

My great-grandfather was the first of our McKinlay family to be born in Australia and was the first in what has become a long line of teachers in the family.  His entire working life, starting at age 13 years, was spent in the service of the Queensland Education Department; a teaching career that spanned over 40 years.

Our teachers have been under an enormous amount of pressure in recent months, which makes it even more fitting that this week I shine a light on the amazing work they do, through the story of Frederick McKinlay.

Frederick McKinlay, born 24 July 1879 in Rockhampton, was a first-generation Australian.  His father John McKinlay was a ship’s engineer from Scotland and his mother Margaret Ann Stewart a domestic servant from Ireland.  Purportedly, both arrived in Australia on the same ship, the Scottish Bard, in 1868 (although evidence of John’s arrival has not been found to date). John and Margaret married in Rockhampton in 1878 (23 September).

The couple moved between Rockhampton and the seaside town of Emu Park for many years. The first evidence of Fred’s own education is his admission to Rockhampton Primary School at the age of 8 years and 3 months in 1887.  The following year, his father was working at the Tranganbar Gold Mine where John secured the services of a retired school master purchased a large tent for use as a makeshift school for the children at the mine.  From there the family went back to Emu Park, where Margaret ran a boarding house and Fred and his siblings continued their education at Emu Park School. 

In 1893, at the age of 13 years, Fred began his teaching career, when he was admitted by the Education Department as a pupil teacher at the Emu Park State School. The pupil-teacher system was essentially an apprenticeship scheme, with training provided on the job in schools by the head teacher of the school.  Fred trained under the supervision of Benjamin Long and qualified as a teacher on 31 December 1897.

During the early years of his career, Fred underwent regular observation by the District Inspector.   The Inspectors’ comments are brief and recorded in cramped hand-writing in Fred’s teaching record but he is generally described as a fair classroom teacher, who kept good order in the classroom, was intelligent and industrious and achieved satisfactory results.  Although, one inspector was less impressed, noting that Fred had fair disciplinary powers of the repressive order, does work in a vigorous but superficial way, and very unwilling to do work outside specified school hours.  This last report was by District Inspector Brown who features in another chapter in the life of Fred in a rather negative way so one wonders whether DI Brown was an inherently critical man or just had something against Fred. But I digress.  Newspaper reports and reminiscences of former students suggest that he was a successful, valued and kindly teacher with a genuine appreciation of his students and commitment to their education.

Fred was steadily promoted during the early years of his career, rising through the various levels to Head Teacher by 1908.    Over the forty years of his career, Fred taught at a dozen  schools around Central Queensland and was Head Teacher at four of these:  Emu Park, Georgetown, Rockhampton Central (Boys), Leichardt Ward, Mt Chalmers, Stanwell, Marmor, Brandon, Hamilton Creek, Mt Morgan Boys School, Maryborough Central, and Albert State School (Maryborough).

Francia Dow and Frederick McKinlay
Wedding portrait, January 1908

When Fred was transferred from Leichardt Ward School to Mount Chalmers Provisional School at the end of 1907, Head Master Benjamin Long expressed sorrow that the school was losing Fred, who had been with them almost since the opening of the school and felt they could not allow him to go without a small memento of their esteem.  Mr. Long indicated that Fred would be very much missed as he had been a thoroughly good teacher, a most loyal assistant, and always ready to help in all those ‘hundred and one things’ a teacher had to do out of school.  He wished Fred well with the transfer and his impending marriage to Francia Dow (also a teacher) and hoped the important step he was taking would lead to the further advancement of his career.  He felt that Leichardt Ward’s loss was Mount Chalmers gain.  Fred was presented with gifts from the teachers and children – a silver teapot and biscuit barrel.  Fred expressed his sincere thanks for the beautiful presents and to Mr. Long for his kind words, attributing ‘most of his success in life’ to Mr Long, by whom he had been taught both as a student and as a trainee teacher. 

Mt Chalmers was his first posting as a Head Teacher.  The prior Head Teacher was his new wife (who was required to resign from teaching when she married) which must have been an interesting transition.  Fred spent just one year at Mt Chalmers, but was remembered warmly by one student 75 years later.  Violet Armstrong recalls the day when she was eight years old and some mineworkers came to the school and took Fred outside to talk to him.  Upon returning to the classroom, Fred said, “Lillie, Darry and Violet, your mother wants you at home as there has been an accident at the mine”.   He then put on his trademark white helmet, took the children by the hands and led them out to collect their hats and bags from where they hung on the veranda.  He accompanied the children on their walk through the scrub and it was only as they neared their home that he informed them that their father had been killed.  Hearing this news, Violet recalls that she panicked and fled into the bushland but years later appreciated the kindness of Mr McKinlay walking her and her siblings home.

Stanwell State School was bounded by a creek, which regularly flooded in heavy rains, rendering the children unable to cross and attend school.  Rather than have the children miss school, Fred purchased a boat at his own expense and rowed the children across the creek each morning and afternoon.   Fred’s ferrying services rapidly expanded to the general public and in representations to the Fitzroy Shire Council for the construction of a footbridge across the creek, he described  having made over 100 trips across the creek to oblige dairymen, travellers and stockmen, even carrying a cyclist and his motorcycle on one occasion. 

In his roles as Head Teacher, Fred regularly advocated for improvements to the school facilities for the benefit of teachers and students alike.  While at Stanwell School, another significant infrastructure problem was that of the latrines, which apparently filled with water during heavy rains and emitted a ‘most awful stench’.  In correspondence to the Department, he describes having to ‘rush from the ‘office’ with disarranged garments (fortunately ‘twas dark) the stench was so bad.  Mrs McKinlay is quite unable to use the ‘office’ and has to make arrangements neither convenient nor agreeable’.  He also expressed concern that these conditions were making children ill and cited the genuine risk of typhoid.  At Marmor School, he was successful in efforts to have a new school building erected and improvements made to the teacher’s residence.

As Head Teacher Fred was also responsible for facilitating the many extra-curricular activities of these small rural schools.  At Stanwell School many successful Arbour Day events were held, raising money through Sports Days and dances. At Hamilton Creek school the end of the school year was regularly celebrated with large picnics.  Upon his move south to schools in the Maryborough District, he was involved with various sporting bodies, especially in swimming carnivals and as secretary of the combined District State School Sports Association.

The school buildings in rural schools were regularly used by community groups such as the Ambulance Brigade and Progress Association for social and civic activities.  This required Fred to write tedious memos to the Department seeking permission each and every time a community group requested use of the facilities.   

Fred was also active in professional networks and held several committee roles with the Teachers’ Association (Mount Morgan and Dawson).  A particularly vexed topic was homework, which Fred asserted was a nuisance for teachers but argued was invaluable to those children who regularly requested it but did not believe it needed to be mandatory and advocated for an approach that gave students some involvement in the choice of task.   His professional activities also involved him supervising pupil teachers.

Fred also had an interest in what we now call ‘adult education’ or ‘lifelong learning’ and was a member of the public lecture sub-committee of the Mount Morgan Technical College which organised talks and lectures on a variety of topics for the broader community.

Hamilton Creek School, circa 1920s

The longest posting of Fred’s career was to Hamilton Creek State School, outside Mt. Morgan.  This was when Mt. Morgan was in its heyday and there were numerous state schools serving the township.  It was here that Fred’s three children grew up and attended school.  Fred appreciated a nice garden and the prolonged period he spent at Hamilton Creek provided an opportunity to see his plantings established and flourishing.   A rose bush was planted for every child along the lane down to the road.  Tall sprinklers were installed to spray the garden.  A lush quisqualis rambled on the veranda rails of the teacher’s residence. 

 During his years in Hamilton Creek Fred purchased a Model T Ford.  A former fellow student of his daughter Mavis McKinlay, at the age of 103 years, recalled Fred as follows: ‘Oh yes! McKinlay! He was the school teacher chap. Drove his daughters to school every day in his Model T Ford’.  [See Week 2’s post for more on this story].

In May 1927, Fred was transferred to the Mt Morgan Boys School.  The locals gathered in the school on a Saturday night to farewell him.  Mr. F. Toppenberg, an engineer with the Main Roads and President of the Progress Association, presided and in his remarks eulogised Fred’s qualities, both as a teacher and as a resident among them.  Fred was presented with a gold pencil and Francia with a silver memento cup as a token of affection and esteem.  Mr. Campion also spoke of Fred in glowing terms.  Fred offered the appropriate responses.  The speeches were followed by musical items (including some performed by Fred’s own daughters), dancing, and supper.

In 1936, Fred took substantial sick leave during July and August. Unfortunately, in December that year, he was admitted to the Nundah Private Hospital and passed away on Boxing Day from complications following emergency surgery for bowel cancer.  This was only three week after the death of his mother.

Fred’s obituary describes him as “very popular with the scholars”, which is a short statement for forty years of work, but a lovely way to be remembered.

There was obviously much more to Fred than his role as a teacher.  He was a son, brother, cousin, husband, father, uncle, grandfather and friend, but that, as they say, is a story for another day.  This week was all about service and Fred definitely put in many good years with the education department, starting a tradition of teaching in the family – his brother also trained as a teacher (although only worked in this profession for a few brief years), both his daughters trained as teachers, and at least six of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren are or have been involved in education.

Here’s to Fred and all the wonderful teachers out there, continuing this tradition of service to education.

Stanislaw Slobodian and his three sons

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 18 | Where there's a will...

This week’s story isn't about an ancestor; rather it’s about long-term neighbours who feature in our family story.  I don’t know all the details of the Slobodians’ family story but their broader narrative leaves no room for doubt that they faced great sadness, untold horrors and overcame significant challenges in order to take up farming next door to my Davey family in Eight Mile Plains (Queensland, Australia).  

This is their story as compiled from recollections told to me by my mother, Irene Davey, and publicly available sources.

Zenowij Slobodian, circa 1949

On 20 April 1949, former Ukraine national Stanislaw Slobodian and his three sons, Wolodoymyr, Zenowij, and Omelan stepped off the immigrant ship Svalbard and onto Station Pier in Melbourne.  It was Omelan’s 19^th birthday.  This was their first day in Australia.  They had boarded the ship a month earlier in Genoa, Italy, along with 896 other displaced persons, all seeking a new life in Australia following World War II.  

At the end of World War II, there was no recognized Ukrainian state and there were approximately two million Ukrainians amongst the twenty million ‘foreigners’ who found themselves stranded in Germany when the fighting ceased. All but approximately 200,000 of the Ukrainians returned either willingly or by force to what was by then the USSR.  The majority of those who remained in Germany subsisted in approximately 80 (out of a total of 700) displaced persons camps which were for Ukrainians, awaiting resettlement in countries such as Australia, the United States, and Canada.  The Slobodians had been in Amberg, a camp in US occupied area of Germany, until the International Refugee Organization arranged their immigration to Australia.[1]  In exchange for free passage and help on arrival, they agreed to work for the government for two years.[2]

Frightened by the near invasion of Australia by the Japanese, Prime Minister Ben Chifley had decreed that Australia must grow its population as rapidly as possible.[3]   In 1949, the Minister for Immigration, Mr A A Callwell anticipated the year would be “the most vigorous Australian migration year since the gold rushes of the 1850's”.^[4]  An estimated 25,000 immigrants were expected to arrive in the month of April alone.  Displaced persons from camps in Europe were expected to make up 11,299 of the immigrants.[5]   The Slobodians were four of this number.

Soon after disembarking the Svalbard in Melbourne, the immigrants boarded a train for the seven-hour journey to Bonegilla migrant reception camp in Wodonga on the Victorian/New South Wales border. It was intended that newly arrived immigrants would spend several weeks in the camp receiving education on life in Australia and then be dispatched around Australia to industries such as hydro-electric schemes, cane-cutting, timber-cutting, brick-making and harbour construction.  It wasn’t always this easy, however, and some stayed months, if not years, in the reception camps. [6]

The details of how long the Slobodian men stayed in Bonegilla has not yet been determined but it would seem they found work and completed their two year obligation quite quickly as by 1951, Stanislaw, Omelan and Zenowij were in Queensland. Stanislaw purchased part of my grandparents’ farm in Eight Mile Plains, thus becoming our neighbours. Pop Davey sold Stanislaw the already established part of his 40 acre block. While he was constructing a new house for his family on the portion he retained, the Slobodians lived in one of the sheds while the Daveys continued to occupy the ‘old house’. After the Daveys moved to their new house, Stanislaw built a new house to replace the Daveys’ old one. The Slobodians named the property ‘Liliana’.

Although Stanislaw was listed as ‘single’ on the passenger list for the Svalbard, he had been married to Liliana, mother to his sons, but had lost track of her during the turbulent years of the war. Presumably unable to determine her fate or whereabouts, he immigrated without her. Irene recalls that many years later (possibly in the early 1960s), she was located and brought out to Australia. Irene remembers that Liliana couldn’t believe the freedom of Australia. She used to walk down to the catch the bus, saying in wonderment, ‘I go shopping’; amazed that she had money to buy things, that there were things in the shops to buy, and that no-one was stopping her.[7]

Prior to arriving in Eight Mile Plains, Omelan had been working in the forestry somewhere around Kilcoy. In April 1951, he was one of six men injured when a timber truck collided with a utility on the Jimna-Goomeri Road.[8] Omelan suffered compound fractures of both legs and was transported to the Brisbane Hospital.[9] Unfortunately, both legs had to be amputated and he was fitted with artificial legs. However, Irene recalls him dancing and riding a bike with ease.

Omelan subsequently moved to Adelaide where he was heavily involved with the Ukrainian Scouting movement, Plast, and the Ukrainian Philatelic society. He married and had two sons. Omelan died in 2015. In 1966, Irene was working in a fruit canning factory in the Riverina for the summer where she made friends with a girl who was Russian Orthodox. One weekend they travelled to Adelaide to attend church, and Irene was amazed to find Omelan, her one-time neighbour from Eight Mile Plains sitting in the front row.[10]

Zen also worked in Jimna, presumably with the forestry, but later was able to resume his profession as an electrician. His alien registration card indicates that he also went to Adelaide for a short time but subsequently returned to Eight Mile Plains where he built another house on the far back section of the block Stanislaw purchased. Zen married and had three children. He died in 2019.

From Bonegilla, Wolodymyr appears to have gone to Adelaide but also to have lived in Wodonga for a period of time. Wolodymyr married, but how many children he had, if any, is unknown for now.

Today, the Slobodians are recognized with several street namings in Eight Mile Plains – Slobodian Avenue, Lilywood Street (named for the family’s wife and mother), and possibly Stanley Place[11] – and their descendants continue to live in various parts of Australia, some having forged very successful careers.

Along their journey, Stanislaw (and his sons) no doubt asked 'will?' many times:  Will we survive the war? Will we see each other again? Will we get out of the displaced persons camp? Will we find a new life? Will we like Australia?  Will we fit in? Will we find jobs? Will I walk again?  Will I see my wife again?  But their story proves that where there's a 'will', there is hope and possibility.

NOTE: I’m far from an expert (in fact, I know barely anything) on Ukrainian history, the fate of Ukrainians during World War II, displaced persons camps or immigrant resettlement, and I haven’t met any Slobodian family members (yet).  There is much more to the story of this family than is contained here (although my wish is that I might have an opportunity to learn more one day). In piecing together this brief account of our neighbours of twenty-plus years, the Slobodians, I hope I have not only acknowledged their part in our family's story, but have respectfully paid tribute to their part in Australia’s story.

---

[1] Summary drawn from information contained in the notes from a lecture presented by Professor Orest Subtelny, Friday March 7, 2003 at the Ukrainian Museum in New York City, http://www.brama.com/news/press/030311subtelny_DPcamps.html

[2] ‘Migration in Australia, https://www.bonegilla.org.au/about-us/Migration-in-Australia

[3] Ibid

[4] ‘Great Migrant Armada’, The Scone Advocate, 1 April 1949, p. 7

[5] Migration in Australia, op cit

[6] Migration in Australia, op cit

[7] Pers comm., Irene Davey, April 2020

[8] ‘6 Injured in Collision’, Brisbane Telegraph, 7 April 1951, p. 4

[9] Ibid.

[10] Pers. Comm., Irene Davey, April 2020

[11] Stanislaw later went by the name Stanley

Up, up and away

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks (2020)

Week 16 | Air

John and Margaret McKinlay with their four
Frederick, Helena, Jeanette and Stewart

The theme for this week is air.  Amy[1] always encourages creative interpretation of the weekly themes and in her email this week observed “most of us don't have pilots in our family tree”.  I have two pilots (plus another ancestor who had a non-flying role in the RAAF) so plenty of air-y ancestors. However, the stories of these three men are a little sombre and the current times call for something lighter (slight pun) so I’m going to share this flighty memory from my great-great-grand aunt Helena ‘Lena’ Wix (nee McKinlay).

Lena was born in 1883, the third of four children of John and Margaret (nee Stewart) McKinlay.  She spent much of her childhood in the seaside town of Emu Park (on the Keppel Coast, Queensland, Australia).  In 1965, Lena documented some of her memories, including this description of the time her brother made a kite.

“Another incident that happened was when my brother made a huge kite of calico. We had run out of string and it was quite high in the sky. He asked me to hold it while he ran home for more twine. But soon after he left a breeze sprang up and started the kite to go higher and further along the hill. I hung on and it lifted my feet three or four feet off the ground and down again. I began to scream. My brother came running and calling “don’t let go”.  He then made it fast and it stayed up in the air for several weeks and the folk would watch it each day. But the wind dropped and it fell over amongst the trees near Mt. Gillfillan.”

Lena doesn’t name which brother, but it was most likely her older brother, Fred McKinlay (my gr-gr-grandfather) who was four years her senior.  I’m sure many children have wished the kite they were flying would lift them off the ground, but judging by Lena’s experience, perhaps this is a case of being careful what you wish for.  Unfortunately, we don’t know exactly how old they were at the time and Lena doesn’t describe what kind of kite it was or just how big it was and there are no photos in our family collections.  They say a picture is worth a thousand words – in this case we there are 130 words that create a lovely picture in my mind of these ancestral siblings playing together on the hill above Emu Park beach, enjoying happy (and airy) childhood pursuits.

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[1] Amy Johnson Crow, the instigator of this challenge

Farm, fire, frogs

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks (2020)

Week 15 | Fire

Stewart, Lilian, Jack, Bob and Jean McKinlay

Over the past summer, nearly every part of Australia was impacted by extreme bushfires, which indiscriminately took lives and destroyed homes, livelihoods, and tens of thousands of acres of farmland and native forests.   Fire has been an ever-present threat in Australia, and throughout the period of European settlement lives have been altered and fortunes changed as a result of fire, including those of my great-grand-uncle Stewart McKinlay (1887-1959).

Stewart,  grew up in Rockhampton and Emu Park in Central Queensland and commenced his working life first as a teacher and then in a series of Queensland public service positions in Brisbane and Mt Morgan.  His role as the Clerk of Petty Sessions in Mt Morgan was multi-faceted and extremely busy and placed him under a lot of pressure.  He was advised to give it up and purchase a farm to reduce stress.

So, in 1921 he purchased a farm in Tanawha, near Buderim, on the Sunshine Coast and moved with wife Lillian (nee Bowser), and children Bob, Jack and Jean. His daughter Jean was three years old at the time but in her late eighties had very clear memories of the property.  She told of five acres of pineapples, bananas and strawberries and one cow.  She described a creek running through the bottom of the property that had a wooden bridge across it and opened out into Palm Grove, an area of lots of palm trees where the creek spread out across a sandy base, only about 6 inches deep and crystal clear.  She recalled the stump of a large gum tree that she would sit on while her father milked the cow.  There was a packing shed where the bananas were boxed for market.  And a house high on stumps nearer to the road, with one or two bedrooms, a kitchen where Jean and her older brothers Bob and Jack bathed in a galvanised tub, and a veranda along the front.  Much of the property consisted of thick forest – “absolutely thick forest, jam packed together” (Jean McKinlay 2009).

Unfortunately, the family’s life in this idyllic locale and Stewart’s time as a farmer was to be short-lived.  In March 1923, the family set off for Brisbane (60 miles to the south) in the horse and sulky, possibly for the birthday of grandma or an aunt.  Upon their return, they were greeted with devastation.  A bushfire had been through destroying everything except the packing shed.  Despite the property having been insured, the family walked away from the farm.  They lived in a corrugated iron shed belonging to friends in Nudgee until Stewart found a job and was able to build a new home for the family on Scott Street in Northgate, which they moved into in 1924.

Stewart, as a husband and father, would likely have borne the weight of responsibility for overcoming this blow and creating another new life for his family, but perhaps also feeling thankful that the family had been away at the time of the fire and only possessions, not lives, were lost.  For Jean, who was only a toddler at the time, she remembered the fire as the reason she lived in a tin shed with a dirt floor and frogs that created music in the kitchen jumping between the saucepans that hung from nails on the wall and the explanation for why there are no baby photos of her.

[Story based on memories of Jean Mitchell (nee McKinlay) and newspaper reports.]

Divine In(ter)vention

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks (2020)

Week 14 | Water

Pop Davey working the cultivation

My grandfather Ernest Frank Davey (Pop Davey) bought 50 acres of land at Eight Mile Plains on the then outskirts of Brisbane (Queensland) in 1932 for £5 an acre.  He began by establishing a poultry farming operation for egg production, followed by a small crops’ cultivation.  An essential ingredient for any farming venture, big or small, is water.

Fortunately for Pop Davey, one boundary of the property was delimited by Bulimba Creek which provided a supply of water for the farming activities.   Pop had a Ronaldson Tippett engine that pumped water up a quarter mile long pipe from the creek to the cultivation, connected to a series of spray lines.  This set-up might have been considered ‘state of the art’ for the time.

There was a bore on the property down near Miles Platting Road in the early days.  Initially, Granny Davey had to walk down the long driveway from the ‘old house’ and fill a four gallon kerosene tin from the well using a hand pump and carry it back to the house.

Pop Davey

Later the new house and chook (chicken) sheds were serviced by rainwater tanks – three near the house (2 x 1000 gallon, 1 x 500 gallon), plus several near the chook sheds.  These could be topped up with creek water if they ran low by means of a long hose running from the end of one of the spray lines to the tanks.   One of the house tanks was used only for laundry, the other fed the bathroom.  The two 1000 gallon tanks were connected underneath by a pipe so they always stayed the same level but a tap between them allowed for water to be kept separate (i.e. if the laundry tank was topped off with creek water it wouldn’t mingle with the rainwater still in the house tank). There was also a small dam on the property that was possibly fed by a spring.

To supplement these water supplies, Pop Davey also discovered he had a talent for water divining (or perhaps he learnt the skill from an expert) and he claimed he could find water underground.  His daughter Irene used to watch him doing this as a child and sometimes assisted him.

Chook sheds, Eight Mile Plains

He would select a forked stick and holding one fork in each hand walk around the paddocks until the stick vibrated, giving a signal that water might be found below that spot.  When Irene helped him, she would hold one fork and Pop Davey the other and they would hold hands in between to complete the connection and the technique would still work.  They would feel the stick twitching when there was underground water in the vicinity.  Having identified a likely spot in the paddock (although never the paddock under cultivation), Pop proceeded to dig a well, assisted by Irene, and about 12 feet down they found water.  On this occasion the location was alongside the dam.   

Pop Davey needed water – for his family’s daily needs, for his chooks, and for his crops.  Through intelligent purchasing, inventive and ingenious irrigation practices, and an iota of divining intervention, he was able to tap into multiple water sources to keep his farm supplied with rainwater, creek water, dam water, well water and underground water and limit the chances of his farm running dry.  The farm, in turn, provided a home and income for Pop and Granny Davey and their six children for over 50 years.

Aerial view of property in 1936.  Blue line very roughly describes property boundary [Image courtesy of QImagery]

Aerial view of property in 1966 clearly showing house, chook sheds and cultivation areas. [Image courtesy of QImagery]

[This story based on the memories of Irene Davey]

Closer than I imagined

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks (2020)

Week 7 | Favourite Discovery

Visiting the Colin Thiele monument in Eudunda
(South Australia) in 2013

My favourite author features in my post this week about my favourite discovery during my family history research.  And there have been many but Amy’s suggestion was to think about something you’ve found out that still makes you smile.

So, Colin Thiele. My all-time favourite author.  Introduced to me by my Dad.  I still treasure and re-read copies of his books that I was given as a child and continue to add to my collection of his works and read ones I have somehow missed.  I doubly treasure the one he autographed for me when I was 11 years old and my grandma took me to a signing.

Not only is he a great storyteller, but a master of the written word.  Colin was born in Eudunda, South Australia in 1920 to a family of German descent. He was educated at Kapunda High School; the same school my grandmother attended, although a few years after her.  He then taught in high schools and colleges in Adelaide and served in the RAAF in World War II.  As I read his biography Can I call you Colin? there were so many parallels to my paternal grandparents’ family history that I couldn’t help wondering if they had ever crossed paths or known each other. 

Some years ago, I was leafing through a copy of a family history that had been compiled about one of the branches of my paternal grandfather’s family.  In the interests of full disclosure, I’ll admit that my perusing was accompanied by some opinions on the merits of the work.  Then all of a sudden, a name caught my eye!  Wait!  Did I see Colin Thiele’s name in my family tree?  The Colin Thiele. Flipping back a few pages and reading carefully, sure enough, there it was. 

Okay. So not actually related to us by blood. But his wife Rhonda was a second cousin to my paternal grandfather.  Did they know each other?  Had they been at the same family gatherings in their youth?  They grew up in similar parts of Adelaide so it’s possible.  Sadly, I didn’t get a chance to ask any of the parties who may have had the answer, as my grandfather died in 1958 and I, busy with family life, work and study, I didn’t find the time to track down Rhonda before she passed away, although she lived only an hour from me.

Nonetheless, it is a discovery that never ceases to bring me a warm glow that not only did Colin’s life parallel that of my grandparents, he did actually marry into our family. Even in my wildest speculations about possible connections, I hadn't imagined that.

A life lived in 5km

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks (2020)

Week 4 | Close to Home

A short and poignant response to this week’s theme that tells the story of Annie Davey, sister of my maternal grandfather and niece of Susan Betts, the subject of last week’s post. 

The only surviving photo of Annie Davey, circa 1960

As a toddler, Annie lived with her parents Henry and Elizabeth (nee Betts) and older brother, Ernest Frank, on Ada Street, in the Stoneleigh Estate in Lutwyche where Henry had purchased two lots in 1891.  As she neared the end of her school days, the family moved to King Street, Lutwyche (now Maygar Street, Windsor), a distance of only about 500 metres from the home on Ada Street.  Annie and her parents lived in this home until the end of World War I, when they moved to Union Street, Nundah, about 5km away.

It is likely that Annie attended Bowen Bridge school, but this has not been confirmed.  Social life for the family appear to have centred on the activities of the Independent Order of Rechabites, a temperance organisation of which Henry was a member and which had a junior group and possibly the Salvation Army.

Annie came of age during the turbulent years of the First World War.  At a time when her thoughts would likely have been turning to courtship and marriage, life would instead have been a series of farewells as her brother and other young men in her social circle enlisted in the AIF and left Australia to fight in the Middle East and Europe; her daily routine punctuated with the appearance of familiar names in casualty lists in the daily newspapers.

As for numerous women of this generation, Annie did not marry.  For many it was because they lost a beau in the war; for others it was the simple (and sad) fact that the war significantly reduced the number of eligible men.   There is family folklore that Annie lost a beau, however, no evidence has been found (yet) to confirm that this is the reason she didn’t marry or who the young man might have been.

Instead, continued to live at home with her parents, Henry and Elizabeth (nee Betts) Davey.  After her mother passed away in 1926, she continued to care for her father until his death in 1945.   A few years before Henry’s death, Henry and Annie made one last move, to 52 Buckland Road, Nundah, again a move of less than 500 metres (and still within 5km of her first home on Ada Street).

Upon Henry’s death, Annie inherited the home and lived there for almost another 40 years.  In her last few years, she moved into a nursing home, across the river in the Redland Shire, the biggest move she had made in the 90 odd years of her life.  She died in the Princess Alexandra Hospital in July 1985, aged 92 years and was cremated at Mt Thompson. 

The Davey home at 52 Buckland Road, Nundah, Qld

Although she remained physically close to home (in fact, in a series of family homes within a 5km circle) for the majority of her life, she unfortunately did not remain emotionally close to home. A connection to her surviving family members, the children of her brother, was largely lost and her nieces and nephews did not become aware of her passing until well after the funeral and were unable to mark the occasion.  As a consequence, she bequeathed her home (and estate) to Annie’s “dear friend Edna Irene Brumpton … in appreciation and grateful thanks for all the kindness and help she has bestowed on me during our years of Happy Friendship”.  Edna sold the home to developers and it has long since been replaced by a ubiquitous brick ‘six-pack’ unit block.  A sad ending both for this home and for my great-aunt Annie, whose life had stayed close to it (and its predecessors) for so many years.

Who was Great Aunt Susan?

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks (2020)

Week 3 | Long Line

In reflecting on this topic in its most literal sense (as in ‘a long line of butchers’), I was a bit stuck for options. We have a tradition of teaching going back four generations from my generation.  And there’s at least a few generations of cordwainers on another branch but I haven’t done enough research to write about those ancestors yet.  So I’m going to take an alternate interpretation of the topic and write about a long line of inquiry I undertook that ultimately paid dividends in identifying a mystery photo brickwall.

Some years ago (probably around 2003), my mother entrusted me with my maternal Granny’s photo album. Most of the photos were no longer in their mounts and there was no apparent order to where they nestled in between the leaves of the album.  I began a process of sorting, scanning and identifying.  The majority could be linked to my Granny’s family.  There were only two clearly linked to her husband (my Pop).  And there was this one that was a complete mystery.

The photo was badly deteriorated and I really wanted to know who this lady was and if she was significant enough in our family tree for me to invest in having the image restored.  The only clue on the photograph was the name and location of the photographer – H. W. Pell, Kadina.  Kadina is on the Yorke Peninsula in South Australia, originally a mining settlement of mainly Cornish immigrants employed in the copper mines.  My maternal line is almost exclusively Queensland-based (back to the point of immigration to Australia) so this posed an immediate conundrum. 

I was able to establish that H.W. Pell had a studio in Kadina between 1906-1915, giving me a date range for the photo.  At the time I started this inquiry, the Pells still operated a studio in Kadina but they indicated that they did not have any records old enough to assist with this query.  Mum thought the image was related to her father (my Pop) but had no basis for this ‘feeling’.

I started by sending a copy of the photo to all of Mum’s siblings and cousins which failed to net any information.

From that point, each time I made contact with a newly discovered cousin in any maternal branch of my family, I would send them a copy of the photo and ask if they recognized the subject.  Each time the response was an apologetic ‘no’.  Continued research connected me with a cousin on the Betts line in 2009 and together we found a connection in our Betts family line to Wallaroo, South Australia, which is very close to Kadina.   It was a clue.

Three years later, in 2012, I made contact with additional Betts family members in South Australia and duly emailed a scanned copy of the photo.  Within a day and a half I had a reply back to say ‘yes, that photo was in his collection of Betts image’.  Notations in his mother’s hand on the back indicated that it was “Great Aunt Susan, spinster sister of Thomas Betts—lived in Queensland”.  Hallelujah!  This mystery lady now had a name. And, not only that, I knew exactly who she was.  And included a digital copy of his version of the photo, which was in much better condition than the one in my possession.

Susan Betts was my Pop’s mother, Annie Davey’s, sister and, as noted by my contact’s mother, was a spinster.  As an unmarried woman it has been challenging to find sufficient information to build her story.  

Susan was born in 1849 in Brill, Buckinghamshire to parents Richard John DeVere and Tracey (nee Goodgame) Betts.  By the age of 12 years, in 1861, she was working as a nursemaid for her uncle and aunt Edward and Susan Hyde (nee Betts).  Edward was a cordwainer and the couple had three daughters ages 5, 4, and 1 year.

Like many of her seven siblings, she immigrated to Australia although. Based on her death certificate this was round 1891 but identifying when and where she arrived has not been established. She settled in Queensland and from 1903 she appears in electoral rolls living in the Lutwyche and Nundah areas, which was close to her sister Elizabeth, and the Beaudesert area, which was close to her brother John.  Her brother Mark was also living in Brisbane, while other siblings had settled in South Australia.  The portrait of her taken in Kadina suggests that she visited family in South Australia at least once. For a few years, she worked as a nurse.

In her later years, Susan was living at the Aged Christian Women’s Home in New Farm.  Susan died in the Salvation Army Home on Morgan Street, in May 1933 from heart disease and a throat infection at the age of 83 years.

Susan is buried in Lutwyche Cemetery (Brisbane, Queensland) in a grave shared with her sister Elizabeth.

Siblings

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks (2020)

Week 2 | Favourite Photo

Is it possible to have just one favourite photo? I’m fortunate to have a large collection of photos of my ancestral families and many are favourites for different reasons.  So I thought I’d treat this week’s challenge like a question in a Myers Briggs test and go with the first photo that popped into my mind when I read the topic. 

This photo features my granny, Mavis McKinlay, age 12 years, with her younger sister Rae and brother Jock, posed in their father’s Model T Ford.  The three siblings, the children of school teachers Frederick and Francia (nee Dow) McKinlay, were frequently photographed as a trio and generally appeared to be the best of friends, enjoying being photographed together.  When I revisited this photo to write this post, I was surprised to find that they don’t quite look their usual chipper selves.  Mavis is staring down the camera in a very direct way, almost glaring (which, in fact, is quite characteristic of her) and Jock looks a bit sceptical altogether. 

The photo was taken in January 1922 in Hamilton Creek (an outlying community of Mt Morgan in central Queensland) and, given this timing and the badge on Mavis’ hat ribbon, may have been taken on the first day of school for the year.   By this time, Mavis had commenced her secondary school education at Mt Morgan High School, while Rae and Jock would have still been attending Hamilton Creek State School, where their father Fred was head teacher.

This photo is made more of a favourite due to some snippets of priceless information I received a few years ago that adds a dimension to the story that the photo tells.  Mt Morgan High School celebrated its centenary in 2012 and I obtained a copy of the book published for the anniversary.  In it was an article about a former student, who I calculated would have attended the school at the same time as Mavis, who, somewhat surprisingly,  was still alive.  This seemed pretty remarkable and I was immediately keen to see if I could meet him and if he would remember my Granny.  Remember, family history is all about the long shot.  I contacted the school centenary committee who put me in touch with his daughter (who had submitted the article) and discovered that this gentleman was residing in an aged care facility only an hour’s drive from my home. I arranged to visit despite the daughter indicating that she didn’t think he’d remember much.  And I’m so glad that I did.  Not only was it an absolute treat to meet 103 year-old Lyle, but once I was there in person and mentioned the McKinlay name, he immediately said ‘Oh yes! McKinlay! He was the school teacher chap. Drove his daughters to school every day in his Model T Ford’.  He couldn’t add much more detail than this but I was thrilled.

It’s a seemingly tiny detail but a lovely qualitative piece of information, obtained firsthand, to add to the family story and to the context of this photo.  I feel quite pleased to know that my gr-grandfather drove my granny to school every day and that he was an involved and presumably kind father.  And, given that Lyle remembered this detail  90 years later, suggests that getting driven to school was not a very common occurrence in Mt Morgan at that time.

So what did life hold in store for this trio? Here’s their very brief bios.

Mavis (1909-1984), academically talented and a competitive swimmer, followed family tradition and trained as a teacher.  After a few years doing relief teaching, she married World War I veteran Ernest Frank Davey and raised six children on a small crops farm in Eight Mile Plains, near Brisbane.

Rae (1909-1991) also trained as a teacher and worked briefly prior to her engagement and marriage to Leslie Lyon Bell.  The couple lived in Brisbane and had one daughter. 

Jock (1915-1954) trained as a pilot in the RAAF and received a commission to the RAF in 1937 which found him in England when World War II broke out.  After several years’ active duty with the RAF in Bomber Command and as an instructor in the Empire Air Training Scheme, Jock returned to Australia and continued serving the war effort flying Catalinas for the RAAF.  After the war, he married his childhood sweetheart (and first cousin) Jean McKinlay.  He died tragically in 1954 in an industrial accident, leaving his devastated wife with four children under the age of seven years.

Accentuate the positive: a reflection on my 2019 genealogy year

Jill Ball, GeniAus, has thrown out this challenge  (thanks for sharing Judy Webster) and I thought I’d give it a go.

The goal is to reflect on genealogical ventures over the past year, with the tag line ‘Accentuate the Positive’. I’m pretty sure this is a line from a song, and the next line is ‘eliminate the negative’ (I’ve googled, it’s Bing Crosby).   But, of course, when I read Jill’s challenge my thoughts were immediately along the lines of ‘I didn’t do anything last year’, ‘I achieved nothing’, ‘I wasted time’. It’s human nature to focus on what we didn’t achieve and berate ourselves for the undone things still on our list, rather than the things that we did cross off. Or the things that we did that weren’t even on a list but that were equally or more important or rewarding. So thanks Jill and Judy for making me really stop and reflect on what genealogy adventures I did have last year (even if it was a year that was a bit research-lite).

1. An elusive ancestor I found was… Well, I can’t take credit for the finding but I connected with a previously un-met cousin who, via a blog post of mine, connected with a French researcher who helped unravel the mystery of the origins of our mutual ancestor Mathurin Charles Leon DeLaine and met up with a distant cousin in France who took her to the village from which our ancestor originated (See post from 8 February 2018).

2. A great newspaper article I found was…an obituary of James Buckley that was sufficiently interesting to inspire me to do more research into this gentleman. He’s not family but lies in the grave beside my gr-gr-grandparents in Maryborough – always good to know your neighbours 😊

3. A geneajourney I took was… to Maryborough, several times. I go there regularly, it’s only two hours up the road and so filled with both Queensland history and my family’s history, it never fails to delight. This year was special because I spent time with my cousin George and his wife Denise, both passionate family historians, who inspired me to revisit research and collaborate with them on our common ancestry.

4. I located an important record. Maybe not located, but accessed. The store accounts of my gr-gr-grandmother Catherine Elizabeth Dow at Brennan & Gerraghty’s store in Maryborough. Mundane, perhaps, but how fascinating to find out what your ancestors bought on what day and for how much over 100 years ago. Not just a contextual idea based on trends at a point in time, but the exact details.

5. A newly found family member shared the story of her trip to France during which she met up with a distant cousin on our shared French line who took her to the villages from which that line of our family originated.

6. A geneasurprise I received was… finding six month old comments on a blog post that included links to original vital records in France and the email address of an unmet cousin. Extra bonus I found these comments just a few weeks before a planned trip to Adelaide, where the cousin lives. Serendipity for sure. (Note to self: always make sure the ‘receive alerts’ setting is active on your blog.)

7. My 2019 social media post that I was particularly proud of was … my blog post on James Buckley (see #2 above). It didn’t necessarily get great views or hits, but I was proud to have stuck with the research into this unrelated man and complete a story on him. 

8. I made a new genimate who is also a distant cousin who had made significant inroads on a stubborn branch of the family. 

9. A new piece of technology or skill I mastered was how to tinker with (some might call it ‘customizing’) my blog to improve its look and feel, make it something I felt more proud of, and re-inspire me to post more actively (thanks Carmel). Although perhaps the ‘post more regularly part’ didn’t quite come to fruition.

10. I joined more family history groups on Facebook for a constant flow of new ideas, interesting stories, and handy hints.

11. A genealogy education session or event from which I learnt something new was…each one that I attended but standouts were Blaine Bettinger (DNA) and Eric Kopittke (German research).

12. A blog post that taught me something new was…I think it was a journal article not a blog post, but tips for uploading personal/family photos to Flickr so that they feed to Trove.

13. A DNA discovery I made was… that I have a LOT to learn in area of using DNA for family history research.

14. I taught a genimate how to… I host a program of family history workshops at work each year – hopefully at least some of the attendees were inspired to start or pursue their research.

15. A brick wall I demolished was … see #1. Not demolished and I didn’t do it but a stubborn branch unravelled through teamwork.

16. A great site I visited was.. Brennan & Gerraghty’s Store. (I’m sure this question meant website, but visiting physical sites is a key part of family history research).

17. A new genealogy/history book I enjoyed was…A letter from Paris: a true story of hidden art, lost romance, and family reclaimed by Louisa Deasey

18. It was exciting fascinating to finally meet… Jack Charles, Australian actor, musician, potter, and Aboriginal elder. He wasn’t on a list of ‘people I’d like to meet’ but the opportunity arose and it was quite an experience.

19. I am excited for 2020 because every day of every year is an opportunity to research and discover who knows what. And maybe, just maybe, this is the year when work stays on an even keel and I can research regularly.

20. Another positive I would like to share is ... the absolute joy and satisfaction I felt at following through on my longheld plan of restoring the grave of my gr-gr-granpdarents (that houses a few other family members as well) in Maryborough Cemetery and holding a small rededication ceremony which was attended not only by family members but representatives from Maryborough (Qld) District Family History Society and Mayor George Seymour, complete with a piper to honour our Scottish heritage.