#52 Ancestors 2020 - Week 35 - Unforgettable

#52 Ancestors 2020

Week 35 Unforgettable

The children who die young are often the forgotten members of our family trees.  They don’t grow up enough to make any mark on the world and they don’t marry and have children and grandchildren.

I have often thought about these forgotten children but the one who is truly unforgettable is this one:

Dulcie Eunice McCann was born on 26 December 1913, the 7^th child of Charles and Alma McCann, Paul’s paternal grandparents.  Two years before her birth, her parents had lost their 5^th child, a boy called Percival Alfred.  He was only three years old.  The Coroner’s Report states that he died of septicaemia as a consequence of an abscess in the pleural cavity – a condition easily treatable these days with penicillin.

We don’t know when this photo of Dulcie was taken but it must have been shortly before her death.  She died on 31 July 1915, when she was only 18 months old and the awful irony is that she died from injuries she received when she was kicked by a horse.

I have never been able to find the Coroner’s report and we don’t know where she is buried but this little photo is a poignant reminder of her short life.

#52 Ancestors 2020 Week 34 - Chosen Family

#52 Ancestors 2020

Week 34 - Chosen Family.

My siblings and I had plenty of aunts and uncles but there were two women who were constant in our lives who were not related to each other or to us.

Mum and Dad's 25th wedding anniversary with children and the "two Margies" either side of my mother.

When my parents were first married, they moved to the small south-western town of Young, in NSW. My father was a teacher on the staff at the Young High School and my mother was busy at home with babies – four of us born between 1945-1952.  The teachers at the school were mostly young and living in boarding house accommodation so Mum and Dad’s house became a meeting place. Several became lifelong friends of my parents including two of the young women, who were both named Margaret.  They became known in the family as “the two Margies”.

For the next 60 years they were present at every significant family event, but they also enriched our lives in other ways.  I decided to write about one of them – Margie Beavis – because I realise that as she remained single and had no children, there is nobody to write her story.

I know very little about her early life.  She was born in 1923, one of three children.  She alluded to a father whose life was forever changed by WWI.  I’ve looked at his war record and found that he enlisted almost as soon as war broke out and was sent to Gallipoli.  Here he was rapidly promoted through the ranks and had become a Captain by the end of 1915, when he was sent to France.  By 1916, after being involved in the fighting at Pozieres,  he was being repeatedly admitted to hospital with “Neurasthenia” and he was invalided home at the end of 1917.  “Neurasthenia” was the common term for shell shock - what we now call PTSD.  Although he married in 1919, and returned to his job as a teacher, he never really recovered and there were times when he lived apart from the family.

Margie was a clever girl who attended Sydney Girls’ High School at a time when it was “the” school for bright girls in Sydney.  She got a good pass in the Leaving Certificate in 1940 with Honours in Mathematics and won a scholarship to the University of Sydney to study science.

Margie would have graduated with her B. Sc Dip Ed at the beginning of 1945.  She came to Young either that year or the following one.  I don’t know how long she stayed but she was back in Sydney by the time I was born (1949) and then she went overseas.  In England she taught in a rough school in the East End of London, then hitchhiked around Europe with a friend from Australia.

On her return home, in the mid 50s, she decided that she didn’t want to teach any more, and she got a job with the CSIRO (Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation) in their National Standards Laboratory at the University of Sydney.  She remained there for the rest of her working life.

Margie always had time for us, and she created some great memories.  My younger sister and I remember one visit she made to us when we were probably aged about 9 and 7.  She spent the morning with us, creating a kite, and then the afternoon tearing up and down the street outside trying to get it to catch the wind.  I don’t think it worked very well but it was great fun.

When we were older, she made sure that we had some city experiences on our visits from the country.  One by one she took each of us to see the Australian Ballet.  When Libby started at Sydney University, she bought her a sleeping bag and took her to the snow for her first skiing trip.  She loved the bush and was knowledgeable about plants and rocks – she took me one day on a perilous walk around West Head (north of Sydney) which involved getting far too close to the top of a waterfall.  She took me to Jenolan Caves, too.

My older sister Jenny was mad about swimming and swimmers and desperately wanted to go to the Australian Swimming Championships at the famous North Sydney Pool.  This was about 1962, a golden era of Australian world record holders.  I seem to recall that the other Margie came too and they both braved the night sitting in the stands while Jenny and I watched our heroes.

When I announced my engagement to the young man who became my first husband, Margie was a little horrified that I had no engagement ring (it was the '70s and we had no money).  She gave me an opal from her collection of precious stones and had it set for me as a gift.

All of us remember Margie’s involvement in one of the most notorious murder mysteries in Australian history – the infamous “Bogle-Chandler” case.

Dr Gilbert Bogle and Mrs Margaret Chandler were found dead on New Years morning 1963 beside the Lane Cove River in the Lane Cove National Park.  Bogle was a physicist at the CSIRO; Margaret Chandler was the wife of another CSIRO scientist, and they had both been at a New Year’s Eve party the night before.  So had Margie.  She gave evidence that she had seen Bogle leave the party, and believed him to be alone.*

The inquest was the biggest story in Australia in 1963.  One night my parents opened the door to a distraught Margie, who had driven the 250 miles to our place to escape the press attention.  She rested and recovered with us.

When she retired Margie pursued her interest in Aboriginal culture by taking herself off to Central Australia to study the Pitjantjatjara language of the Western Desert people.  Most white Australians know nothing about aboriginal languages, so this was a very unusual thing to do.  When she returned to Sydney she became involved in the teaching of the language through the WEA (an adult education organisation).

She also travelled in Asia long before it was fashionable and she learned Mandarin.  She was an enthusiastic and dedicated bush regenerator, working with the National Trust on various bush regeneration projects around Sydney.  She was a passionate supporter of anti-war and anti-nuclear causes – I found her name on a petition published in the Sydney Morning Herald in 1988 urging the Prime Minister not to allow American nuclear armed warships to dock in Sydney.

Like many liberated women of her age, Margie was a smoker, and although she finally gave up – in her 50s, I think- there was enough damage to give her a difficult time as she aged.  By her 70s, she had emphysema and she must have had some intimations of mortality because she decided to give away the jewellery she had inherited from her mother and aunts.  All of us were given a piece of jewellery.  I have always treasured this Victorian piece and worn it often. It had been owned by Margie’s aunt, and I think was probably never worn by Margie.  It’s still in the original box.

Margie died aged 86 in January 2010.  My sister Libby spoke at her funeral about her special place in our family.  Not an aunt, not a godmother, but a significant and loving influence.

*. The case became famous because of the circumstances in which the bodies were found and because the cause of death could not be established. In 2006 a filmmaker discovered evidence to suggest the cause of death was hydrogen sulphide gas. In the early hours of 1 January an eruption of gas from the polluted river bed may have occurred, causing the noxious fumes to pool in deadly quantities in the grove.

#52 Ancestors 2020 Week 33 Troublemaker

#52 Ancestors 2020

Week 33 - Troublemaker.

When my youngest brother was born and my parents decided to call him Michael, my grandmother was not happy.  “Uncle Mick” (her brother in law) was a drunken no-hoper, and she thought it was a mistake to give the new baby the same name.

Not believing that naming him Michael would doom him, my parents went ahead.  But when I began my research into the family, I was curious about the origin of my grandmother’s hostility to my great uncle Michael and determined to find out more.

Sadly, lots of it was true.  Michael was trouble.

Michael Garrard Gleeson was born in 1892, the second of five children born to James Patrick and Mary Gleeson (nee Crummy.)  He was born In Lismore, NSW where his father worked for some years on the railways and then in the construction industry.  With his partner Jeremiah Finn (his mother-in-law’s third husband), James formed the company Gleeson & Finn, who were responsible for building many of the early streets of Lismore, and three of the reservoirs.

In about 1903, when Michael was 11, the family moved to Brisbane.  It’s not clear what they were doing for the next few years but by 1916, my great grandfather had a new career as a publican. He worked at a succession of Brisbane hotels, including the famous Regatta at Toowong and the Alliance (at Spring Hill).  In both of these places Michael worked as a barman.

In 1914, when WWI broke out, Michael enlisted in the Australian Army. He served for exactly one month before he was discharged for health reasons – “bad elbow” was the written excuse.

In 1916, with Australia desperate for new recruits, he tried again and was accepted.  On his admission sheet for this enlistment, he records one brush with the law – a conviction for drunkenness*.1  He is described as being 5’6” tall with fair complexion, blue eyes and brown hair.  He weighs only 133 lbs (about 52kilograms)

Michael sailed on 24 January 1917 on the troop ship “Ayrshire”.  By April he was in France with the 15^th AIF who fought on the Somme, by July he was in trouble.  His war record states that on 7 July he was charged with “hesitating to obey an order” and “violently resisting arrest”.  In September he was absent without leave for 24 hours and had his pay docked, then he was hospitalized with trench fever and sent back to hospital in England.

This seems to have been the end of Michael’s tour of duty – he remained in England for several months, during which he was constantly recorded as ‘Absent without Leave” and “Absent from Parade.”  In May of 1917 he was shipped home.

Once home, Michael resumed work as a barman at his parents’ hotel.  This was perhaps the worst imaginable place for him to be.

The first newspaper report I can find is dated November 1918.  Michael was charged with stealing a sum of nine pounds and a few shillings, which was the change left on the bar when another soldier paid for their drinks.  He then refused to give it back.  The case was reported extensively in the Brisbane papers, but in the end the Judge concluded that all the men were drunk, and as Michael had agreed to return the money, the case was closed.

In 1919, Michael was charged with stealing a bicycle.  The policeman who brought the charge explained to the magistrate that he would not proceed on the grounds that “the accused was too drunk at the time of the alleged offence to be capable of knowing what he did.” In discharging him, the magistrate said, “My advice to you is to leave the drink alone.”

He didn’t.  There is a string of offences throughout the 1920s.  In 1921 he was charged with stealing some boots while drunk, and in 1922 with breaking into a warehouse with another man and stealing some beer and stout.  In that year, a prohibition order was taken out against him, forbidding anyone from selling alcohol to him.  In 1926, when he was arrested again for breaking a glass shop door while under the influence, he was remanded on the basis that he be admitted “to Dunwich”*2

According to Wikipedia, “The Dunwich Benevolent Asylum was a benevolent asylum for the aged, infirm and destitute operated by the Queensland Government in Australia. It was located at Dunwich on North Stradbroke Island in Moreton Bay and operated from 1865 to 1946."

One of the reasons for his admission may have been evidence given of an apparent attempt on his own life in 1921.  There is a newspaper report of him being admitted to hospital after being discovered with a wound to his throat “recently inflicted” and with blood flowing.

When James and Mary Gleeson bought the freehold of the Club Hotel in Warwick, Queensland in 1926, it may have been partly an attempt to remove Michael from Brisbane, but his problems didn’t go away.  There are a few arrests for drunkenness through the 1930s and in 1938 a more serious attempt on his life.  Again, he cut his throat, but this time inflicted worse damage, with a razor, and was admitted to hospital in a serious condition.  The newspaper reported that he was not living at home at this time but was found in the vicinity of his parents’ hotel - I wonder if his parents had given up on him?

Surprisingly, Michael married in 1944, when he was 51.  Nothing is known about his wife, May Austin.  Was she a drinking companion or a positive influence in his life?

If the latter, it was really too late.  Michael died aged 54 in 1947.  His death certificate records “chronic alcoholism” as a major cause of death.

Michael's grave at Lutwych cemetery in Brisbane

I felt incredibly sad reading the trajectory of Michael’s life through the numerous police reports on “Trove”.  While the police, and perhaps his family, saw him as a troublemaker, he was clearly a very troubled soul. 

There are so many unanswered questions.  Was his problem with alcohol already beginning to manifest itself in 1914, when he was first arrested?  Did his time in France during the War make everything worse, or would it all have happened anyway?  Was there something in his childhood or his family relationships which sowed the seed?  There is no one left to ask.

*1October 1914.  Charged 5 shillings or 6 hours in the lock up.

*2 see clipping

#52 Ancestors 2020 Week 32 Small

#52 Ancestors 2020

Week 32 - Small

This small album came to us recently from Paul’s cousin.  It belonged to her father, Charles Leslie (Les) McCann who was the second child and first son born to Charles and Alma McCann. Paul’father Cecil Eric (always known as Pat) was the eighth of the family of nine children.

The album measures 3’ x 5”.

This is the inside cover:

So it’s a gift from Stan to Les (Mac), in 1917, when Les was 17.  Who was Stan?

There are 24 small photos in the album.  It consists mostly of photos of boys and men with bikes – mostly motorbikes of the period, although there is one of a pushbike and another of a very early touring car fording a flooded causeway. 

All the McCanns were keen on wheels.

Here is Charlie McCann. Les’ father, driving a very fancy motorbike with a sidecar.  Charlie seems to be wearing a “duster” coat of the kind popular at the time for such outings as they were designed to keep the dust and dirt off the clothes underneath. 

The first photo in the album is of Les sitting in the same sidecar with a beach behind him, there’s one of Les leaning nonchalantly against the bike and another photo further in of the same bike disappearing down a dusty road.

 Two photos are of a large group of men and women with an array of bikes – it looks like the beginning of a race or a rally.

There are several beach photos.  As we live in this area, we have tried to match them up with the beaches we know, but so much has changed since 1917 that it’s all guesswork.  There are more buildings now,  and there has been coastal erosion so it’s difficult to be sure.

There are also photos of the river – we assume it’s either the Richmond or Wilson River at Lismore where the family lived.  One shows a cream boat, a sight not seen now since at least the end of WWII.

 Its job was to deliver empty cans and collect full cans of cream from the dairy farms on the river for conveyance to the Norco Factory in Lismore, but the cream boats also carried other goods and occasional passengers.  Improvements in roads and road transport put an end to this leisurely passage up the river by the cream boats.

There is no one alive now who can truly identify these photos.  We can speculate, but we will never know the full story behind the pictures, or the friendship between Les and the mysterious Stan.

Maybe this is him?

#52Ancestors 2020 Week 31 Large

#52 Ancestors 2020

Week 31 - Large

Growing up, I was one of six children, which was regarded as a large family in the 50s and 60s. More typically of the early years of the 20^th century, my father was also one of 6 and my mother one of 8.  Going back another generation, families were much larger.  Here are my maternal great grandparents, who had 13 children and 24 grandchildren.

Anthony and Charlotte (Mason) married in Muswellbrook in 1865, when he was 25, and she 22.  Their “honeymoon” was spent riding their horses and several head of cattle over the Liverpool Range to the land Anthony had taken up at Gaspard, near Quirindi.  Their property, called Lowestoft, became their lifelong home and the birthplace of all their children.

Lowestoft in 1914 - the centre of family life

 Robert Whitten was born on 17 January 1866.  He was known as “Bob” or “Fernie”.  He married Marion McGregor in 1896 and they had two daughters, Iris and Eileen.  The family spent many years in New Zealand, but Bob returned to Quirindi on his retirement and died there on 3 September 1951.

 

Robert "Fernie" Whitten

Jane “Jennie” was born on 3 Feb 1868. She married Samuel Betts in 1903, and they had two daughters called Winice and Mavis.  She died on 11 April 1962.

Jenny and Sam on their wedding day

 Edward “Ted” born 12 July 1869.  Ted did not marry and spent all his life on the land at Lowestoft.  He developed a passion for astronomy and enjoyed educating his nephews about the night sky.  He died on 24 July 1938 and is buried beside his parents at Wallabadah.

Ted with his telescope - his mother and nephew Lawrence Betts

 Frederick “Fred” was born 21 January 1871.  He married his childhood sweetheart Annie Newcombe in 1902 but she died the following year shortly after the birth of their daughter. Nine years later he married Josephine Morgan, and they had 7 children together – Keith, Jackie, Ruth, Connie, Royce, Gwynne (my mother) and Joan.

Fred and Josie with Keith, Ruth, Connie and baby Royce in 1921

 Henry “Harry” was born on 23 October 1872.  Like Ted, he never married and stayed on the farm all his life.  My mother remembered him as a shy man, who always had a lolly in his pocket for the children.  He died on 3 October 1943.

Harry and his dog, Roger

 Anthony “Tony” was born 6 July 1874.  He married Hilda Dawson in 1913 and they had 3 children, Victor, Doris and Beryl.  Like his brothers, Tony was also a farmer.

Tony and Hilda on their wedding day

Eliza, known as Lucie, was born on 6 November 1876.  She never married.  She died in Sydney on 13 April 1937. Little is known about her – it would be good to know why she lived away from home as a single woman.  Perhaps she had a profession?

Lucie Whitten

Richard  and

Joseph were born on 18 May 1878.  Richard died aged one month, on 6 Jun 1878.  Joseph lived until 5 September 1880.  They are buried in the orchard at Lowestoft.

Charlotte “Lottie” was born 21 August 1879.  She fell in love with her cousin, Albert Moore, but her parents didn’t approve and sent her away.  She killed herself by hanging from her bedpost on 9 December 1906.

Charlotte "Lottie" Whitten

 Albert was born 25 April 1881 and he trained as a Methodist Minister.  While he was studying in the United States he met and married Caroline Steere on 10 April 1918 in Maine. They had a daughter, Winice, who died at birth, and a son, Maurice.  Albert died on 2 April 1949 and is buried in Limerick, Maine.

 

Albert and Caroline on their wedding day

Alfred was born on 5 March 1883.  He also trained as a Methodist Minister and went travelling with his brother Albert to Europe and the USA.  In his case, it seems that his parents were also interfering in his love life, trying to keep him from Ethel Cock, whom he married on his return in 1914.  They had five children, Phyllis, Lloyd, Wesley, Beth and Olwen.  Alf died on 5 Aug 1958.

Alf and Ethel on their wedding day

Beatrice was born on 7 October 1885, twenty years after her parent’s marriage.  She married Charles Betts, known as Bill (brother to her sister Jennie’s husband) on 7 November 1911.  They had two children, Daphne and Lawrence.

Beatrice Whitten

This was a large and tight-knit family.  Except for Albert and Alf, all the men were farmers on this land or nearby, and Lowestoft was the centre of family activity.  The grandchildren who lived elsewhere came for holidays and they stayed close all of their long lives.