Tragedy strikes

Inquest file held at PROV VPRS 24/P0/1005 1921/390

 

 

 

 

There's always an element of sadness in death. Yes, that may be the most obvious statement one could make. However, hear me out. People often say that they don't want their passing to be mourned, that they would like a celebration worthy of the life they lead.
So, quite a while ago when a story was passed on to me that my great grandfathers twin brother died due to an accident as a child, I didn't think much of it. Yes, it was an incredibly sad thought that a child could die, a twin could be taken away by an accident and the fact that a child had pre-deceased their parents, however it was long ago and really did not affect me in the present.
 

VPRS 24/P0/1005 1921/390

Last week I decided to look further into the Taylor side of my tree and inevitably not far up in the branches came upon my great grandfather. I thought I would look at him more thoroughly, but without a will and not much else to go on except stories and/or myths which have flitted down like leaves, I bypassed and went onto the other members of his family. Here, Arthur Rossmore Taylor re-appeared. Starting from the end of his life I ordered the inquest into his death to view at the Public Record Office Victoria (PROV) reading room. Arthur was my great grandfather Henry's twin brother and from what I can gather from his birth registration number, it was likely he was the younger of the two. Henry and Arthur were born in 1908 to George and Eva Taylor, a grazing family who resided in Victoria's Western district, in places such as Bambra and Birregurra.
Being such a long time ago, I assumed I'd be immune to the effects an inquest would have on me. Boy, was I mistaken. 

In 1921, at the age of 12 years and 11 months old Arthur was riding on his pony accompanied by Mr McLaughlin, a partner of his father's on the farm.

Lionel with his grandmother Eva 'Ning' Taylor

Casually riding bareback and with no more than a canter in his stride Arthur fell from the horse, hitting his head. Mr McLaughlin proceeded to carry an injured and dazed Arthur to the house where his mother tended to his injured head and put him to bed. Arthur was restless, fever-some and had a lack of appetite, however by the next day he seemed to have improved and asked for some food. It was shortly after this he lost consciousness and subsequently passed away. Dr Hope was summoned, and regrettably had to pronounce the young boy dead on arrival.
What struck me most about this inquest, was apart from the utter devastation the family must have felt that their son and brother had passed away and the fact that maybe they should have called for the doctor earlier, was the fact that the inquest reports included handwritten reports from Arthur's father George and Mr McLaughlin. George had just lost his son and had to sit down and write out minute by minute in detail the events of the day and the circumstances leading to his death. They would then have to go and bury their son and brother. 

Baby Mandy with Eva Taylor, mother of Arthur & Henry, c. 1961

So when I say that there is always an element of sadness in death, what I am referring to, is that regardless of the time that has passed, and in this case, close to a century, most people would be affected by the death of someone so young and the circumstances surrounding his passing.

Lionel with his father Henry. Henry's twin brother Arthur died of an accident in 1921.

Walking for a cause

Sorry for the hiatus, but life has been busy the last few months. I have returned to study and am neck high in historical matter. Attending the Family History Feast at the State Library of Victoria in conjunction with National Family History Month. I have also started my first real full-time historian job, which I absolutely LOVE! So life is busy.



1920s glamour

I can hear you all asking how the 1920s dinner party went. Well, wonder no more. The soiree went off without a hitch; all guests were gussied up to the nines and looked spectacular. We were suitably fed and watered and danced the Charleston to the wee hours. All in all it was a wonderful night.

 

A worthy cause

Anyway, I am not here to detail the night’s events. However, I am here to share another story with you.



My family. Walking for Parkinson's disease.

Tomorrow will be a special and significant day for my family. Tomorrow is the annual 'A Walk in the Park'; a fundraising event to help raise funds to provide support services for people affected by Parkinson’s disease. The event, which is run by Parkinson's Victoria is a leisurely 4km walk from Federation Square in Melbourne and will hopefully raise much needed funds.

There are hundreds, thousands of charities doing great work around Australia and the world, and it can be an overwhelming thing to be faced with a plethora of different organisations asking for money for the work they do. But Parkinson’s is close to my heart.

Sadly, in May last year my grandfather Lionel passed away. Lionel was a gentle and kind soul. He was also living with Parkinson’s disease. In life and death people have spoken fondly of my grandfather, of his gentle nature and kind heart. It’s a wonder the poor man didn’t go mad, surrounded by women his whole life, three daughters and three granddaughters, who all loved and adored him. Luckily for him, the numbers began to balance with the inclusion of two sons-in-law.

Lionel was born in Winchelsea, western Victoria in 1931. The first child for Laura and Harry Taylor, he was then closely followed by his younger brother Arthur. The two boys were best friends and got up to great amounts of mischief together on the land. Harry was away for long periods of time, working as a shearer throughout parts of Victoria and New South Wales. It was up to Laura to raise the two boys as a single mother through the 1930s and 40s Australia. By about the age of four, Laura moved with her two sons to Bambra to live with her sister and brother-in-law on their property. The boys attended Bambra School and were so close in age that they were in the same class. By 1944 the family had moved back to Winchelsea and then on to Terang where both Lionel and Arthur attended secondary school. It was then on to a tertiary education for both boys, Lionel going on to do a shearing machine course and Arthur to teachers college.

Lionel was a car and motor enthusiast. He spent much of his younger years involved with the Western District Car Club in Geelong. Through his passion and talent he started an apprenticeship at Winkler’s Motors in Geelong. It was from Mr Winkler that many years later Lionel took over ‘S. G. Winklers’ in Star Street, Geelong and spent his years realising his passion of fixing and selling anything from Fiat’s to whipper snippers, anything with a motor. Always dressed in his blue greasy overalls, he would appear every morning and afternoon wheeling his motor mowers to and from the workshop for people to peruse.

In retirement, my grandparents Lionel and Judy would travel. Overseas, around Australia and up the highway, the pair would travel far and wide to explore the world and always come back to see their children and grandchildren. As well as travel the pair was involved in a number of groups. Amongst other things Lionel was a committed Masonic Lodge man, as well as volunteering his time and services to the Andrew Love Cancer Centre in Geelong. He was a devoted family (and car) man and will always be remembered fondly for his love of a good whisky, the sounds of Acker Bilk and tinkering with anything that required fixing (or not).

So, tomorrow we will be walking in memory of Pa and hoping to raise awareness and funds for Parkinson's Victoria and the amazing work that they undertake.

If you would like to know more about Parkinson's Victoria or donate to the cause.

It's a nice day for a white wedding

It seems that I have been on hiatus for a while. But no fear, I have returned!! I can feel the excitement and enthusiasm radiating through your computers right now as you read this (wishful thinking?).

 

The Taylor-Hughes’

Just yesterday my grandparents would have celebrated their 53^rd wedding anniversary. Sadly, my grandfather Lionel passed away in May last year, so he was missed, but remembered by all of his family yesterday. However, he did spend fifty-two married years with my grandmother Judy, plus a few more on top of that ‘courting’.


'Just Married': Lionel & Judy with their wedding party, 1960.

On 27 February 1960 Judith Heather Hughes walked down the aisle of Christ Church in Moorabool Street, Geelong followed by her bridesmaid, Dorothy Barnes. Judy was wearing a magnolia satin gown with a tulip neckline while Miss Barnes was wearing an avocado green satin sheath dress with an interesting back panel and a Dior bow.[1] Waiting at the other end of the aisle was Lionel Taylor accompanied by his best man and brother Arthur Taylor. The men were looking dapper in their black tuxedos and bow ties. After this happy affair and the ‘I do’s’ had been signed, sealed and delived, the couple went on a honeymoon to Sydney. Eventually driving to their final destination, they stopped in at the Savoy in Spencer Street for their first night as a married couple before making their way to New South Wales.

Cutting the cake: Lionel and Judy Taylor.

Once married and returned to reality the couple moved in to their first home in Herne Hill where they started a family and lived for nearly 30 years.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Wilkens-Russells

A few years earlier on 19 October 1957 at St Georges Presbyterian Church, Geelong, Eric Russell walked his only daughter Erica down the aisle to wed Hank Wilkens. Erica wore a gown of magnolia delustred brocade with a cowl neckline and long lily point sleeves. An orange blossom half circlet on the back of her hair held a lovely old Carrick Macross lace veil, which the bride’s mother [Amuri] had worn at her wedding.[2] After the lavish ceremony followed the even more extravagant reception which was held at the brides’ parents home in Barwon Heads in a large marquee adorned with flowers. The guests consisted of friends, family and ‘society’s’ glamorous couples eating and drinking in celebration of Erica and Hank’s marriage.

 

 

 

Above: The new Mr & Mrs Wilkens, 1957.

Left: Hank and Erica signing the registry.

 

However, it wouldn’t be worth talking about if there wasn’t some ‘skeleton’. Not spoken about so freely was the fact that Erica had previously been engaged in somewhat of a ‘society match’ before she met Hank who had emigrated from the Netherlands in the early 1950s. What was also never discussed was the fact that Hank had been married before in his native Netherlands. Ultimately that marriage ended in divorce not long before he left permanently for Australia. Regardless of these previous relationships Hank and Erica were happily married for over thirty years before Hank passed away in the early 1990s.

The next generation

A few decades later on Saturday 19 February 1983 Andrew Wilkens, younger son of Hank and Erica and Amanda Taylor, eldest daughter of Lionel and Judy were married at St Johns’ Church in West Geelong. In all things 80s, especially following the resplendent wedding of Prince Charles and Princess Diana a few years earlier, the Taylor-Wilkens wedding had undertones of the royals. Flanked with four bridesmaids draped in marshmallow pink chiffon and four groomsmen dressed in tuxedos and bow ties. Their wedding photos were posed in the Geelong Botanic Gardens draped on an empty water fountain surrounded by brown crunchy grass. The wedding date had fallen in the middle of an extremely hot summer and a few days after the devastating Ash Wednesday bushfires which engulfed parts of Victoria. Their wedding reception was held at Kirrewur Court in Geelong, the same place that Lionel and Judy celebrated their wedding. Amanda and Andrew left their reception and boarded a plane to the ultra ‘exotic’ Bali for their honeymoon for two weeks.

Above: Amanda & Andrew and wedding party, 1983.

 

 

Weddings are an exciting time and for my forbearers have been the start of a new chapter, the meshing of families and the beginning to new generations.

 

I could go on, and maybe I will make it a two-parter. Stay tuned for the sequel.

---

[1] Geelong Advertiser, 1960.

[2] Ibid., 1957.

Christmas cheer

This final blog post for the year is dedicated to those we have lost this year, and in particular Lionel, Mary and Kathrine.

This last year my family have done a lot of reminiscing and this in particular has helped to bring flesh and meaning to the stories I write about here. It makes what I write more personal and meaningful to be able to explain and explore traditions, myths, legends and questions brought about by my incessant and persistent inquiries.

And being the time of year I thought writing about past Christmas’ would be appropriate for my final blog post of 2012.

 

Christmas by the beach

Wilkens family Christmas at Barwon Heads, c. 1964

In the 1960s and 70s when my father was growing up, he and his family would make their way to ‘Wurrook’ in Barwon Heads where Amuri and Eric Russell, their grandparents, had retired. Christmas’ with the Russell and Wilkens clan was always a big deal. They would open presents either at home in Lara and then Meredith on the farm or when they arrived in Barwon Heads with their grandparents. Christmas lunch would see the family gathered around the large dining room table in the grand dining room. The table set with the best china and silverware collected over the years or passed down through the generations of Russell’s and Rutherford’s. Amuri and Eric would spoil their grandchildren Rob, Sue, Rick, Andrew and Kathrine with presents and Christmas treats. The call to hot Christmas lunch would be heard throughout the house with the sound of the dinner gong ringing out to summon the troops. Lunch with all the trimmings would be served up followed by plum pudding hiding silver coins in its flesh, a tradition passed down through my grandmother to us as children. The one thing that would have been missing was traditions my Dutch grandfather would have been used to. As a child my father does not remember having his Dutch ancestry play a part in his Christmas holiday traditions. Therefore, this year I am trying to integrate something Dutch into our traditional Australian Christmas lunch and dinner.

 

Santa Clause visits Herne Hill

For my mother Christmas started on Christmas Eve. Like a lot of families growing up in the 1960s and 70s they would attend the midnight service at St John’s in West Geelong before making their way home to try and clamp their eyes shut for the impending visit from Santa Clause. Christmas morning they would be up early to see what goodies would be stashed under the Christmas tree. After ripping the paper frantically to discover dolls, scooters, books and other prized possessions they would scurry over to the neighbours to check out their loot and compare gifts. Lunch for the Taylor family would be a table overloaded with several different meats and many, many veggies. Nanny Laura’s sago plum pudding would be drowned in homemade custard with a dollop of brandy butter. My mother and her family, including her cousins, aunt and uncle would stuff themselves silly with the festive feast before being excused from the table. The kids would go off and play with their newly received Christmas presents while the parents would have a sleep after lunch – a particularly boring thought for the young children.

Above: Mandy & Claire on Christmas day, c. 1963.

Above right: Mandy with Santa at St Johns, West Geelong.

Through the combination of both of these families and their traditions, my own family has brokered its own traditions and carried on those of my ancestors.

 

 

 

Above: Andrew & Mandy with Phoebe & Edwina. Christmas day 1989

 

So, to all of the readers out there I wish you a very merry Christmas and a safe and happy new year. Stuff yourselves with turkey, pudding and good cheer and I look forward to sharing more with you in 2013.

Phoebe

 

In the summertime when the weather is fine

The initial idea of this blog came from some inspiration from Inside History magazine, a gentle shove from an aunt, my great love and enthusiasm for all things genealogy and family history and the fascination I get from wading through old family photos. So the latter paired with my great love of the summer season and all it brings has led me to the inevitable – sharing family stories, myths and legends along with some sepia toned photos of family members past and present.

All Victorian’s will know that summer has already hit us before the official turning of the season. Yes, it seems it is going to be one mighty hot (and humid) summer for Victorians. So, this is a great introduction into this week’s post; warm days and summers spent with family and friends on beaches, farms and tropical far off places.

I have been extremely lucky to be able to spend summers by the seaside, running into crashing waves, squelching sand between my toes and lapping up my fair share of Vitamin D. And it seems that my ancestors have had the same inclination.

Barwon Heads

Above: Erica Russell (at left) with friends at Barwon Heads c. 1920s.

My great grandparents lived an affluent life being descendants of the Victorian ‘Squattocracy’. They lived and ran the property ‘Wurrook’, which was a part of the ‘Barunah Plains’ dynasty. Their affluence led to Eric, my great grandfather to retire early in his life, sell the farm and move to their holiday home in Barwon Heads, which they also named ‘Wurrook’. This large home on Flinders Parade, a few footsteps from the beach was the background for all summers for my great grandparents, grandmother and my father and his siblings. My grandmother Erica would ride her horses along the beach when she was growing up; my father, his brother and sister would spend days on end over their Christmas holidays swimming in the ocean and making sandcastles, just a stones’ throw from watchful eyes of their grandmother.

Above: Eric Russell and Erica Wilkens with Kathrine & Andrew, Barwon Heads c. 1964.

 

 

 

Anglesea & Torquay

 

About 40kms down the road my mother and her family would spend hot days on the beach at Anglesea. By the 1960s my great grandmother Laura Taylor had two grown sons and several grandchildren. In the late-60s Laura bought a small house in Camp Road, Anglesea where she and her family would spend weekends, holidays and summers. There are many happy, colourful (and very 70s inspired outfits) of their days gallivanting in the salt waters of Anglesea as well as Torquay.

 Above: Judy Taylor with Anthea & Mandy, Anglesea c. 1969.

Left: Lionel Taylor with baby Mandy on the beach c. 1961. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Java, Indonesia (formerly the Dutch East Indies)

My grandfather was born and raised in the Dutch East Indies, dark haired and olive skinned (passed down to some of his grandchildren, including me). His days were passed in the heat and humidity which was part and parcel of living in the tropics. Photos of sunny days show Hank and his brother Lou climbing trees and holding monkeys. Hank’s move to Australia (I will touch on this in upcoming blogs with new information just coming to hand) would have seen a different kind of heat. The dry heat that he would not have been used to in Indonesia or the Netherlands. His summer’s once in Australia would have been spent on the farm and at Barwon Heads with his children.

 

 

 

Above: Helena Wilkens with sons Hendrik & Louis,

Java, Dutch East Indies, 1920s.

 

Preparedness   

 

Preparation for the summer season isn’t all about having the right pair of bathers or having enough sunscreen, for many Australians and bush-dwellers in particular, summer brings the scary prospect of bushfires. Victoria saw the devastation of the Ash Wednesday fires in February 1983 and the Black Saturday fires in January 2009, but one summer that my father and his family will always remember but like to forget is January 1969. The Lara bushfires ripped through the township on 8 January 1969, properties, livestock, homes and livelihoods were lost in the face of a wall of fire. They had to face

evacuations and destruction in the wake of fierce northerly winds and soaring summer temperatures. They were lucky to walk away unscathed, but had lost a lot in the wake of the ferocious fire storm that ripped through the scorched land.

My ancestors may have instilled a love and history to summers spent on the beach, but they have also infused awareness for bushfire season and safety.

Left: Rick, Kathrine & Andrew Wilkens on the beach at
Barwon Heads shortly after the Lara bushfires, February 1969.

 

 

 

 

 

So, enjoy your summers, stay safe and cool in the impending heat and have a fire plan.

Phoebe