EX LIBRIS : "JOAN OF ARC IN HER OWN WORDS"

ALL SAINTS DAY - OGNISANTI - TOUSSAINT

Saint Joan of Arc in her armour and mounted on her steed in heroic gilt statuary in Paris ( Photo by my wife Robyn Dixon.)

It is a great Feast Day and to-day's "Ex Libris"brings to our attention a great and most extraordinary Saint : Jeanne D'Arc  - Joan of Arc. She is also known as the Maid of Orleans, but mostly referred to herself as Jehanne the Maid.
Her "voices"which spoke to her the will of God for her, Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret and Saint Michael the Archangel caused her to change the history of France- in effect to bring France into being. The reaction of English occupiers and compliant Church authorities to her claims of a Divinely instructed Mission, brought her finally to a heroic death - burnt at the stake.


The same fate, in equally discreditable circumstances befell another who claimed Divine inspiration - Fra Girolamo Savanarola -who also was burned at the stake with his companion Friars by the Florentine authorities. Like Joan,he too cracked under torture and mistreatment. But Joan corrected her error and went on to die heroically. Savanarola's case is too complex to deal with summarily.


Let us hear Saint Joan's own words , when learned Inquisitors and a Bishop tried to break her down at her trial:


"In what form was Saint Michael when he appeared to you?"


I saw no crown upon him. I know nothing of his garments".


"Was he naked?"


"Do you think God has not wherewith to clothe him? "


"Had he hair?"


"Why should it have been cut off?? I have not seen Blessed Michael since I left the Castle of Crotoy;I do not see him very often."


"Had he his scales?"


I do not know. I feel great joy when I see him; I think that, when I see him, I am not in mortal sin.


"When you confess,do you believe you are in mortal sin?"


I do not know if I have been in mortal sin:I do not believe that I have done the works thereof. Please God I have not been!Please God I shall not do,and that I have not done,things by which my soul shall be burdened!"


"What sign did you give to your King that you came from God?"


"I have always answered you that you shall not draw that from my lips. Go and ask him!"


"Do you not know the sign that you gave your King?"


"You shall not learn that from me."


"It concerns this trial."


"As to what I have"promised to keep secret,that I will not tell you.I promised in such a place that I cannot tell you without perjury."


We marvel at the "simple" peasant girl, harried by these educated clerics, endeavouring to trap her, yet even when she discloses some ignorance of Moral Theology ( it is not possible to commit mortal sin if you do not know it) her absolute candour confounds them. Yet when they get too smart, she puts them down firmly as with their attempts to make fun of her reference to Saint Michael, his clothing or his hair!


There have to my knowledge, been at least three films about Joan of Arc, the oldest starring Ingrid Bergman was badly flawed, the last starring Mila Jovovich was apparently rubbish, but in the middle in time, though only a few years ago was the one starring Lee Lee Sobieski. I loved it! She made an excellent Joan and dear old Peter O'Toole as the haunted Bishop Cauchon and Maximillian Schell as the Inquisitor, completed an excellent cast and a good script.It is movie length, made for TV in 1999 with excellent production values and is available on DVD. It doesn't hurt that Lee Lee Sobieski is quite beautiful and has the same surname as the great Polish hero King Jan III who stopped the advance of the Mohammedan invaders on Europe on 12th September, 1683.

The great church of Ste. Genevieve in Paris, consecrated,desecrated,re-consecrated,desecrated and now called the "Pantheon"still retains several grand paintings of Saint Joan of Arc. (Which I have pics of, but they are temporarily "lost"amongst the thousands of images on my computer.

Saint Joan of Arc was an inspiration in her life ,action, simplicity, resolution and fidelity. It is a neat little book.

*1954,55 & 56 FIRST EXPERIENCE OF WORKING FOR MONEY Part i

"The hub of the district's social life - Lidcombe's "ARCADIA" Picture Show
in 1954 I worked regularly at the Milk Bar just showing on the left of the photo.

My first experience of paid work was serving in a Milk Bar next to Lidcombe's "ARCADIA" Picture Show, about twenty minutes walk from home. (N.B. It was here that my Mum and Dad met in 1926/27) The Milk Bar was owned by the parents of my good friend Wallace Simpson ( it didn't occur to me until much later that this was one of those cute namings that have become so popular to-day). Mr. & Mrs Simpson were very pleasant and friendly people, but appropriately business-like.The Milk Bar lived on the Picture Show business and especially on Friday and Saturday nights and Saturday Matinees, there were of course, no movies on Sundays.

I served behind the counter during the pre-show period and intervals for the Saturday Matinees, and I think for occasional Saturday nights and Friday nights during the School Holidays. The shop was fitted out originally in the 1930s and little had been changed except perhaps the ice cream refrigerator cabinets which were at counter height  with six or eight deep circular recesses to receive the ice cream cylinders in various flavours. The non-refrigerated display cabinets were typical 1930s stuff  with a flat glass front up to counter height and then a further glass section sloping back away from the customer, not very high , so that we could easily reach across to provide the goods and take the money. On the wall behind us were shallow cabinets up to counter height and then glass shelves with a mirrored background.

Many of the product names are still around, some appear occasionally from some corporate attic and many are gone forever. But nearly everything was Australian made and I believe very many were Australian owned. Among those seemingly gone forever were Mastercraft Chocolates, Nestles "Winning Post"brand with its characteristic apple green box and oval picture of a winning horse and jockey crossing the winning post) and many others.

The feverish crowds as showtime approached, and even worse at the 15 minutes interval made for a frantic burst of activity. This required a lot of preparation if sales potential was to be maximised ( although we didn't talk like that). Milk shake containers were lined up with milk and the scoop of ice cream , awaiting only the flavour selection - these would only handle the initial "attack"by the hordes and after that the ladles into the refrigerated milk canisters would be flying with the occasional flying spill. Ice cream cones had to be dipped in chocolate well in advance to get the dipped chocolate to freeze. Soft drink cabinets had to be stocked hours before to chill the drinks. The till was checked for change. And we were ready Then , with gathering pace, seemingly in waves the assault came! Buses timed to arrive for the pictures would drop groups of 50 and 60 at a time and because of our location, we were the first Milk Bar of the three around the Picture Show that they encountered. It was hectic. Then it was over and we had to tidy up and set-up for interval. That was bedlam, as everyone was desperate to maximise their relaxation time by being first. It is great the way our minds go into "automatic"mode in such situations . They protect us from working through each transaction in detail, which would be exhausting. As it was, by the end of it all we were pretty well spent.

I enjoyed the work , and I think got to be pretty competent. The money could not have been huge, but I saved most of it ,as did Wallace, and by the end of the year we had enough to travel to Melbourne by train for a few days with my Mum acting as the responsible adult. All in all it was good experience well rewarded.

The Simpsons were very kind to me and I occasionally went with the family on "Sunday Drives". Their car was a 1934 Ford V8, which had belonged to Mrs Simpson's father I believe, but he- a former steam locomotive driver- could no longer drive. He suffered from senile dementia, poor man, and sat most of the day on the lounge looking straight ahead his lips trembling slightly, apparently having no more mental ability than to co-operate with those helping him up and to the table in response to the call "Daddy, Lunch/Dinner is ready..."

When I finished Third Year and was about to move from Lidcombe to Marist Brothers Darlinghurst next year(1955) Mum and Dad were keen that I should not be idle through the holidays and it was suggested that I should call on Father Lloyd the retired Parish Priest of Lidcombe who still lived in the Parish there.So I made an appointment and went to see this man who was a legend not only in the Parish but also in the Boxing fraternity of Sydney as its Chaplain ( I wonder if they still have one?)

Now a very old man, he was kind and thoughtful in receiving me and because of his many connection later was able to provide a contact with a Windscreen Wiper manufacturer in Wentworth Avenue near Central Station. I have always felt guilty that I did not take up the contact - I wasn't attracted to the idea of manufacturing work - sounds snobbish and unattractive but that was it - best to be honest.

"THE OLD SCHOOL TIE"

Sub- titled "A story of a survival in the tensions of the Catholic Church", it has obviously been written " con amore ". I can say that with gold-plated certainty, because I count Father as a friend and I know his ardent love for the Church, even if the evidence of his life's work did not already demonstrate the fact.

The book is a novel, but everything in it happened in one way or another, even though the names have been changed, and some characters are the "telescoped" product of two personalities. Anyone who lived through the period the book re-creates will, as I did, immediately see through the delightfully altered names of people and places to recognize the Archdiocese of Sydney, St.Patrick's Seminary Manly that was, St. Columba's Minor Seminary, Springwood etc., etc. Anyone who loves the Catholic Church and it's Priesthood will quickly come to read the book "con amore" also.It traces the journey to Priesthood of two best mates and schoolmates , and their encounter with the post-Conciliar false "spirit of the Council" rogues.the book is very special for me, not only because I know the author, but because I knew or knew of, many of the real characters.

Let us "taste and see":

Father Mark O'Brien has just arrived in Rome to commence post-graduate studies and comes to meet his best friend Father Harry Stuart whose studies are more advanced due to his arrival in Rome a couple of years earlier.Harry is talking to the Queensland Priest Father Harry Jenkins. The Second Vatican Council is continuing............"Greg Jenkins took great interest in the newcomer. Harry had spoken so so much of his life-long friend, but always in glowing terms, and Jenkins wondered whether or not this Mark O'Brien was a candidate for canonization.

One free afternoon, Father Jenkins invited Father O'Brien to accompany him on a walking tour. They went across the Tiber and had spent a good while examining the Roman Forum, when Jenkins decided it was coffee time. They found a nice place near the Colosseum. Mark was somewhat disappointed at the break in the tour- he was getting immersed in the history.

They settled at one of the little tables on the wide footpath, looking out across the ancient amphitheatre, Constantine's Arch and other surrounding remnants of past grandeur.

"What do you think of Rome?"asked Jenkins.

Mark smiled,"That hardly matters-I'm sure Rome won't be concerned what I think of her; but I love the place anyway."

"Anything in particular?"

"Well, of course, Peter and Paul are here, plus some other apostles-catacombs, remnants of the Empire. The Pope - should have mentioned him first"he laughed. Then there's the Council -biggest event in the Church for centuries."

"How are you going on the Council documents? "

"Read everything that,s released so far."

"You don't muck around , do you ,Mark.

"Didn't come here to muck around , Greg."

Jenkins took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He offered Mark one. It was refused. But Mark told him to go ahead and have one.

Jenkins blew out the first cloud of smoke, then looked at Mark squarely. An enticing smile came over his face. Mark thought it looked too deliberate.

If I may say so Mark, you and Harry are going to be quite a force back home."

Mark lowered his cup a little. "What makes you think so?"

"I've never met anyone like you two- you've got all the gifts. I think you're going to be a pair of giants."

Mark laughed once more. " Then we'd better make sure we don't put our feet in it," he said looking straight into Jenkins' eyes.

Jenkins' smooth smile re-appeared." That's very good " he said. I'd say each of you is going to make quite a splash."

" As long as what we do helps people, and the church," said Mark.

"The people are the Church" said Jenkins.

" Now that's a revelation - I thought the Church was just buildings " said Mark, looking at him squarely.

That smile was there again on Jenkins's face. "Sorry", he said, " I shouldn't be trying to teach you. It's just that I think the Church hasn't been taking enough notice of what the people are thinking. This Council's not going far enough."

"it's certainly going long enough", said Mark.

Jenkins gave a laugh, " Then you're getting a bit tired of all these Bishops around the place,eh?"

" I didn't,t say that. It's a tremendous event- I just think it could be a lot simpler."

" Everything's black and white with you, isn't it , Mark" said Jenkins through his smile.

Father John O'Neill - Tried and True

"If that means everything's clear, then yes."

"So we have all the answers , then."

"In the necessary things, yes."Jenkins' smile changed to a smirk. Mark's inherited Irish brow hardened. "If we haven't the basic answers to man's questions, then Christ is pointless," he said, almost glaring at Jenkins. " What's the use of God becoming man if He leaves us in our confusion, and our weakness.".........

The story continues and the divide between those seeing in the Church and the Council the hermeneutic of continuity as the only possibility, and those who chose a hermeneutic of rupture to secure their New Church opens before our eyes. Just as it happened. Jenkins by the way - the real man became a Queensland suffragan Bishop. But by the force of his personality, he became the "Godfather" of the Queensland bishops - and the wreckage of "Jenkins'" activity persists from Brisbane to Cairns.

Father John O'Neill is Parish Priest of Doonside in Parramatta Diocese, having survived the Episcopates of Cardinals Freeman and Clancy in Sydney, and then the all too vulnerable Bishop Bede Heather (resigned) and Bishop Kevin Manning (Emeritus, and now out of retirement to act as Apostolic Administrator of Wilcannia Forbes). Doonside is fortunate indeed.

Father's latest work is "BENJAMIN"available at http://www.connorcourt.com/catalog1/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=128

IDENTITY : HOW OTHERS SEE US AND HOW WE SEE OURSELVES

First Holy Communion - Front Row Second on Left 1947

In some ways, I suppose we are most ourselves in the eyes of others when we are little children.We are just little  - whoever. It is that simple. But within our own being we are then not yet fully ourselves, because we are not free to say whatever we wish , and in fact we do not yet have ideas or opinions on many, even most subjects. Later as teenagers we have strongly felt opinions or prejudices , sometimes ill-informed, but not at all times freely expressed. Our identity is gradually unfolding to the world like a  flower.Our sense of our own identity is powerful at this time. Others sénse of our identity will then depend on how successfully or completely we have negotiated the shoals of puberty. Most of our peers , being in just the same stage of confusion as we are at some stages, will think we are great or a drag. Older folk will see the forming personality more readily and begin to react accordingly, but often they will react to the projected personality which at this stage may be somewhat at odds with the authentic personality now formed.

                                                      1958 On ferry leaving Circular Quay

As we reach the stage of being a young man or woman,our identity just completed, begins to be moulded by strong external influences,our equally mature peers, our studies, our vocation and or, employment.This effect works on how we see ourselves and how we are seen by others.To take exceptional cases, the young Sailor sees himself as just that and is likewise perceived as a sailor. In the employment sphere  the young man or woman can come to identify themselves with the corporation which employs them. The Sailor is a NAVY man and affects to have no time for Soldiers/ the Army or Airmen/the Air Force. The Commonwealth Banker will affect to look down on The Westpac man.Others will come to identify the individual with that employment. "Here comes the NAVY!"as he enters a social gathering. Or, "What has the Commonwealth Bank got to say for himself??"This phenomenon has even been publicly acknowledged in St.George Bank's TV Commercials, distinguishing its man as socially acceptable whereas a mere "banker"was not.

THE FRENCH BANKER 1986

More important than all of these for a man is his identity as a husband, father and grandfather, this is an enduring underpinning of the superstructure.And it is itself ideally resting on the foundation of his relationship with God.

Magnetic Island with my beautiful family - that is me behind the camera -the Paterfamilias.1986

So, where am I going with this?

Well, in my time I have been:
the Catholic Schoolboy
the Steam Locomotive Buff
the aspiring Seminarian
the Seminarian
the ex-Seminarian
the young Commonwealth Public Servant
the Solicitor for Railways young man
Mr Commonwealth Bank
the Naval Reservist
the Man from United Dominions
The Man from the Banque Nationale de Paris
The Man from the Archdiocese of Brisbane
The Man from Ignatius Press
The Publisher of Foundation
The Queenslander
and always, through it all The Catholic

But all the employment identities are long since gone,and the question arises
then, what is my identity now?

                                                                       FLORENCE, 2009

 At 71 years I am still The Catholic, The Husband, Father, Grandfather, the Publisher of FOUNDATION .the Queenslander at heart, the Blogger of "VEXILLA REGIS"http://vexilla-regis.blogspot.com/, of" EDWARD BECKMANN "  http://edwardbeckmann.blogspot.com/                                                                                  of  "CONRAD BECKMANN "http://conradbeckmann.blogspot.com/ of "CARL DOPMEYER "http://carldopmeyer.blogspot.com/ and most recently of " PORTA FIDEI - DOOR OF FAITH "http://portafidei.blogspot.com/ , not to mention this Blog.

I once heard a mature man address another in the middle of a formal meeting saying : "Stripped to the core M...... I am a PATRIOT"to the considerable embarrassment of everyone else in the room. Not that we didn't all consider ourselves PATRIOTS, but in Australia we don't go about saying such things to colleagues - it seems absurdly pretentious. Happily, though there were suppressed smirks ,no-one actually laughed .But it was a close-run thing. Due allowance was made for the fact that he was in the Advertising business. But, at the heart of it , it was a pretty sad statement : stripped to the core of our being, patriotism though admirable in every way, comes nowhere near the fundamental importance of our relationship with God. 

So, when it all falls away, "stripped to the core"I am a Catholic.

 I have been through all my life, and with God's Grace I shall be, through all my life and beyond. That is what Jesus Christ wanted for everyone.All else that really matters in my life is my wife , children and grandchildren all my family and friends and yes,I am also a Patriot.

TONY DIXON

EX LIBRIS: "THE FABER BOOK OF REPORTAGE"

One of the most delightful books I own/have read.

Some books are simply full of delight! As are some ( a much smaller percentage) movies.

The Faber Book of Reportage is just such a book. I had not heard of it at all when my wife Robyn gave me a copy among my Christmas gifts several years ago. We have since given copies as gifts to several relatives including my son Matt and my Brother-in-Law Tony. It is a handsomely produced 706 page soft cover book, collecting 300 obviously carefully chosen writings from 430 B.C. to 1986. It is edited by John Carey  who is Merton Professor of English at Oxford University. There are one or two pieces I would not have chosen, for example one by John Pilger for whom I have not one bit of good regard. But that is nothing in the context of the whole. Each contribution is preceded by a succinct introduction.

Here is a partial extract to whet your appetite ( I have include photos which are not in the book to give you a mental image to work with).

"THE BATTLE OF JUTLAND : "X" TURRET, BATTLECRUISER QUEEN MARY , 31 MAY 1916
Ernest  FRANCIS 

Jutland, the only major encounter between the British and German Fleets in World WarI, was claimed a victory by both sides - by the Germans because they destroyed many more ships and men; by the British because they retained control of the North Sea.

                                         Actual photo of the explosion of H.M.S. Queen Mary

"........... 

I put my head through the hole in the roof of the turret and nearly fell through again. The after 4-inch battery was smashed out of all recognition, and then I noticed that the ship had got an awful list to port. I dropped back again into the turret and told Lieutenant Ewert the state of affairs. He said, "Francis, we can do no more than give them a chance, clear the turret."

"Clear the turret," I said, and out they went. PO Stares was the last I saw coming up from the Working Chamber, and I asked him whether he had passed the order to the Magazine and Shell Room, and he told me it was no use as the water was right up to the trunk leading to the shell room, so the bottom of the ship must have been torn out of her. Then I said, "Why didn't you come up?" He simply said, "There was no order to leave the turret."

I went through the Cabinet and out on top and Lieutenant Ewert was following me; suddenly he stopped and went back into the turret. I believe he went back because he thought someone was inside.

I was halfway down the ladder at the back of the turret when Lieutenant Ewert went back. The ship had an awful list to port by this time, so much so that men getting off the ladder went sliding down to port. I got to the bottom rung of the ladder and could not, by my own efforts, reach the stanchions lying on the deck from the ship's side, starboard side. I knew if I let go I should go sliding down to port like some of the others must have done, and probably get smashed up sliding down. Two of my turret's crew, seeing my difficulty, came to my assistance. They were AB Long, Turret Trainer, and AB Lane, left gun No 4. Lane held Long at full length from the ship's side and I dropped from the ladder, caught Long's legs and so gained the starboard side. These two men had no thought for their own safety; they knew I wanted assistance and that was good enough for them. They were both worth a VC twice over.

When I got to the ship's side, there seemed to be quite a fair crowd, and they didn't appear to be very anxious to take to the water. I called out to them, "Come on you chaps, who's coming for a swim?" Someone answered, "She will float for a long time yet," but something, I don't pretend to know what it was, seemed to be urging me to get away, so I clambered over the slimy bilge keel and fell off into the water, followed I should think by about five more men. I struck away from the ship as hard as I could and must have covered nearly fifty yards when there was a big smash, and stopping and looking round, the air seemed to be full of fragments and flying pieces.

A large piece seemed to be right above my head, and acting on impulse, I dipped under to avoid being struck, and stayed under as long as I could, and then came to the top again, and coming behind me I heard a rush of water, which looked very like surf breaking on a beach and I realized it was the suction or backwash from the ship which had just gone. I hardly had time to fill my lungs with air when it was on me. I felt it was no use struggling against it, so I let myself go for a moment or two, then I struck out, but I felt it was a losing game and remarked to myself, "What's the use of you struggling, you're done," and I actually ceased my efforts to reach the top, when a small voice seemed to say, "Dig out."

I started afresh, and something bumped against me. I grasped it and afterwards found it was a large hammock, but I felt I was getting very weak and roused myself sufficiently to look around for something more substantial to support me. Floating right in front of me was what I believe to be the centre bulk of our Pattern 4 target. I managed to push myself on the hammock close to the timber and grasped a piece of rope hanging over the side. My next difficulty was to get on top and with a small amount of exertion I kept on. I managed to reeve my arms through a strop and I must have become unconscious.

When I came to my senses again I was halfway off the spar but I managed to get back again. I was very sick and seemed to be full of oil fuel. My eyes were blocked up completely with it and I could not see. I suppose the oil had got a bit crusted and dry. I managed by turning back the sleeve of my jersey, which was thick with oil, to expose a part of the sleeve of my flannel, and thus managed to get the thick oil off my face and eyes, which were aching awfully. Then I looked and I believed I was the only one left of that fine Ship's Company. What had really happened was the Laurel had come and picked up the remainder and not seeing me got away out of the zone of fire, so how long I was in the water I do not know. I was miserably cold, but not without hope of being picked up, as it seemed to me that I had only to keep quiet and a ship would come for me.

After what seemed ages to me, some destroyers came racing along, and I got up on the spar, steadied myself for the moment, and waved my arms. The Petard, one of our big destroyers, saw me and came over, but when I got on the spar to wave to them, the swell rolled the spar over and I rolled off. I was nearly exhausted again getting back. The destroyer came up and a line was thrown to me, which, needless to say, I grabbed hold of for all I was worth, and was quickly hauled up on to the deck of the destroyer."

H.M.S. QUEEN MARY

1,266 Men died when she exploded and Ernest Francis was among the 12 who survived.She was the most effective British ship in gunnery during the Battle. The loss of so many ships and men was to Churchill, then First Lord of the Admiralty a cause for grave concern and investigation.

*1955-1956 TRAVELLING TO SCHOOL

It must have been about a 16 miles journey from my home in Berala in the Western Suburbs to Marist Brothers Darlinghurst on the Eastern side of the City. I walked to Berala Station most days (10 minutes) or occasionally to Lidcombe (20-25 minutes)  to catch the suburban electric train to Sydney  Central Station.

There were still a few of these sad-faced ""Bradfield "cars in service - the only advantage they offered was a front passenger window -fun for kids to get a driver's eye view (a few of the more modern trains were similarly equipped at the time.)

The typical electric train of the day is shown in the photo below. Occasionally one of the Bradfield Driving Cars shown above would form part of the train, and more often, there were wooden trailer cars in the consist. However, after the Berala and Sydenham (I think) electric train crashes, the shattering of the wooden cars and increased casualties, meant that they were quickly phased out.

Standard electric train of my school days - to me they ere the iconic "face "of Sydney.Most were built in the U.K. as the brass plates I had to step over on boarding the train announced

.

There were still then, and for years to come, regular daily peak hour steam trains from Riverstone to Central stopping at Parramatta, Lidcombe and Strathfield,and Redfern where the zealots would hop off and RUN up and across the overbridge to catch an earlier City  underground electric train)  and there were always good crowds  on Lidcombe's No.1 Platform   
to take advantage of the express run to Central ( or Redfern as we have seen).

This is the "best"picture I could come up with of a C32 pulling a train of American corridor and end platforms, suburban cars , but I'm still looking!

These steam trains were hauled by C32 Class 4-6-0s dating from 1891 and they hauled American designed central corridor carriages with open entry platforms at either end. These carriages were also products of the 1880's. So the whole train was an operating Museum piece. There had been 191 0f the C32 Class locomotives built and all were still in service up to the time I left School, but the very next year, 1957 the first casualty came : 3264 was derailed and very badly damaged at Otford in January,1957. Four of the Class  survive in preservation and 2 are operational.

Arriving at Central, I would hurry off down the stairs and out to the ramp leading down to Eddy Avenue which crosses the Northern frontage of the huge Station. There, I would hop aboard a Tram for the trip left into Elizabeth Street up the hill to Mark Foy's magnificent Department Store , then a grinding 90 degrees turn into Liverpool Street and at the College Street intersection a brief glimpse of the College perched high on its hill at the top of the continuation of Liverpool Street and the Tramlines curved away to the right for the run up Oxford Street to Taylor Square. Oxford Street was the still in decline as the 1926 Underground Railway into the City had caused the CBD to flourish whilst all the pre 1926 fashionable places -Broadway Railway Square, Oxford Street slowly died back.

My favourite Trams were the type seen just entering the picture below from the Left they were the oldest around and by far the most numerous.

Trams at Eddy Avenue in front of Sydney's great Central Station

At Taylor Square I began the walk North East ish to the College past the High Court on the right along what I later learned was the notorious" Wall" where at night, perverts picked up their "rent boys".Some of those using their services have been reported in later years as a member of the Police Commision and a High Court Judge . Ignorance was bliss. On the other side of the Wall was the old Darlinghurst Jail - now an Art School - I never went in.

And so I got to School.

Coming home the process was reversed, except that at Taylor Square I used to catch a Double Decker Bus down to Central - I guess because they may have run more frequently than the Trams at that time of day to Central.

I can't resist recounting a little anecdote that has stuck in my mind. One afternoon I was crossing Oxford Street to catch the Bus to Central at the Taylor Square stop, and had just passed a little old lady, dressed in a tired black cloth coat and wearing a small black hat, thinking to myself "poor little old thing"when a car suddenly surged by coming rather close to her . My Lol rounded on it swinging her handbag and screaming lustily "You f......B......!" I was gobsmacked! I have always been more cautious in awarding the title Little Old Lady ever since!

A heavily re-touched 1947 photo of Double decker buses at Taylor Square
where I used to catch them in the afternoon on way home from school.

N.B. "re-touching"was a manual process in the days before PHOTOSHOP.

*STRUCK WITH THE SILLY STICK - RUGBY RULERS

Vive La France !

Soaring to new heights of Politically Correct idiocy, the governing body of International Rugby Union has fined the French Team $ 15,000 for walking toward the HAKA hysterics of the All Blacks.

How precious these little PC Fascists are! Those naughty Frenchmen walking toward the heroic HAKA makers! Get a life Rugby administrators ( how many are NZers one wonders?).

*HAKAS, ALLSTARS AND THE IDEA OF SPORT

Maori performing HAKA

Recent events on the end of season football calendar in the South-West Pacific, have inflicted on us a heap of Hakas. The Western world's American caught PC infection has led to everyone accepting the endurance of this bit of effrontery from New Zealand. We couldn't be seen not to accept something done by native people could we? It doesn't matter that no one else could get away with any other time consuming activity. Or is it tolerated because the "powers that be " in TV's wonderland think it is a colourful image? "Good vision"? 

Some of the bros. lookin' mighty pale 

Whatever New Zealanders do amongst themselves is their business - accepting Maori cloaks and rubbing noses etc. - good luck to them. But I don't reckon they have the right to seek to inflict it on others. Especially when the Haka is so compromised by the inclusion of non-Maori players , whose culture it is totally alien to, joining in the primitive ritual. And it is further compromised by the inclusion of modern vulgar gestures that belong in dirty back alleys rather than in front of crowds including many children.

Of course things are more proper here on the world's biggest island, Australia. But wait....The "Indigenous Allstars"  are to play in Rugby League their Annual Game. An all indigenous team  ...but is this not RACISM? 

Oh! What is that the PC Lords rule... its not racism if black people do it!! So.... if I'm BLACK I can form a team EXCLUDING non- blacks by definition. BUT if I am White I MAY NOT form a team excluding non-white people. THAT IS HOW IT SHOULD BE ...FOR EVERY AUSTRALIAN.

INDIGENOUS ALLSTARS

How patronising it is to make an exception for indigenous people! And what a classic bit of hypocrisy produced by our unprincipled Aussie pragmatism. And it makes good TV vision of course,
for these guys are some of our very best Rugby League players, and we all love to watch their talent on display in ordinary team games.

The idea of SPORT seems to be under increasing threat from onfield violence - the shoulder charge, the stiff elbow , the knee to the head etc, or in cricket to cheating by ball tampering etc. In almost every case money and or drugs lie behind the problems I'm sure.And that is compounded by some of the team psyching that goes on in a moronically "professional"way. Scenes from Dressing Rooms give evidence of this idiocy and hype all too often.

Australian Captain and NRL Legend Darren Lockyer
attacked with an elbow to the jaw by a cowardly Kiwi "cousin".

Congratulations to our Kiwi cousins across the "dutch"for their victory against the French - a thrilling game thanks to the French attacking with such style and vigour.24 Years is a long time between World Cup drinks! Well done!

I suppose all these problems have gone too far, and there are too many vested interests, for things to change, but Oh  children, things have been better.. "Shut up Dad!""  Hmmm better indeed!

EX LIBRIS ; "1066 AND ALL THAT" ZANY HUMOUR

Only four shillings ( 40 Cents) as the cover shows , but it was the best four bob I ever spent. First published in 1930, "1066 And All That"in this Penguin Edition of 1960 came thundering out of my pre-history and reduced me to a helpless, incapacitated state. Helpless with gales of scarcely suppressed laughter and eyes blinded by the tears of laughter.


I was quaking so much in my efforts to stop laughing out loud, that fellow passengers on the early Saturday afternoon train from Town Hall to Lidcombe were glaring at this 20 yrs old Bank officer with intense disapproval. The central compartment of the single deck electric train could not handle unrestrainable mirth! I had to slip the book back into its brown paper bag and strive to regain my composure. I have re-read the book several times - always with the same result. I cannot guarantee that it will work for every reader of this Blog. For those unaffected, please look carefully in the mirror and commiserate with yourself. Perhaps a useful prior step would be to check your pulse looking for signs of life!
Here are a few excerpts to lighten you day:


Chapter 16
THE AGE OF PIETY
The Chapters between William I (1066) and the Tudors (Henry VIII, etc.) are always called the 
M iddle Ages , on account of their coming at the beginning; this was also The Age of Piety , since Religious fervor was then at its height, people being (1) burnt alive with faggots(The Steak), (2) bricked up in the walls of Convents (Religious Foundations), and (3) tortured in dungeons (The Confessional).


All this was not only pious but a Good Thing, as many of the people who were burnt, bricked, tortured, etc., became quite otherworldly.


Nowadays people are not so pious, even sinners being denied the benefits of fervent Religion.


Chapter 31 
THE MONASTERIES
One of the strongest things about Henry VIII did was about the Monasteries. It was pointed out to him that no-one in the monasteries was married, as the monks all thought it was still the Middle Ages. So Henry, who, of course, considered marrying a Good Thing, told Cromwell to pass a very strong Act saying that the Middle Ages were all over and the monasteries were all to be dissolved. This was called the Disillusion of the Monasteries




If you recognise some of your own exam answers in the above, it is too late to claim breach of copyright! 


Go and get your own copy and throw all your anti-depressants in the garbage!

*1955-1956 MARIST BROTHERS DARLINGHURST - BLUE AND BLUE PART III THE BROTHERS AND THE BUILDINGS

I apologise for the poor quality of this image. The top Floor Classroom at this end was our Fifth Year Classroom and the one next to it away from the camera was our 4th Year Classroom. The fine building on the right was used for the Tuck Shop ( Is there an American equivalent for something so basic?) and a Sports Kit storage.area.The spiral staircase was quite a feature of the school building and relieved pressure on the enclosed stairway on the Southern (left hand side in this picture)

The heart of the School was provided by the Marist Brothers. Marist Brothers had educated me at Lidcombe and it was grand to have them again at Darlo. They had operated the School since it opened in the 1890's I believe. They are an Order of French origin, founded by Saint Marcellin Champagnat who was Beatified in May, 1955 by Pope Pius XII when I was in Fifth Year, and Canonised in April, 1999 by Blessed  Pope John Paul II in April, 1999. The Order seemed to attract and develop well- balanced men , though of course not free of the human foibles we all share. We became familiar with the French terminology used in the Order - the Mother House ( Maison Mere) was the worldwide headquarters. Interestingly, I was to encounter the same terminology many years later in the Banque Nationale De Paris - but that is another story.

The Principal at the time was Brother Fergus ( family name : McCann) whom I liked and admired immensely. He was an intelligent gentleman and a good teacher. He was a gentle soul who would try to see the good in everyone present and historical. He was, I am afraid too good a man for the likes of some of the students in our Class. As I have said, a number had repeated 5th year and were really, physically at least ,young men and he treated them and all of us accordingly. Regrettably some lagged in maturity of character and caused him a lot of unnecessary difficulty - he was too good for the likes of them. The next most senior teacher was Brother Cloman who was dubbed "Trigger"because the top of one of his fingers was missing. He was the ultimate in low key operating style. But the same feral oafs who sensed vulnerability in Brother Fergus and worked on it, were totally under Brother Cloman's thumb! Without histrionics, or raised voice, or physical gestures - with no seeming communication by sound or sight he seemed to exude an aura that affected them and shut down their "stirring"tendencies. It was wonderful to see, and all the more so because he was in no way pre-possessing in appearance! He was universally well liked.

The Internet never ceases to amaze. Here is the grave of Brother Fergus, died at 90 yrs in 2003 -
God rest his gentle soul.

Two other teachers were Brother Cassian and Brother Patrick. Brother Cassian had the nickname "Skull"( how merciless we were!) since he was thin and his skull was very evident. He taught Physics and Maths and was not popular - it was generally said of him that he must have lain awake at night thinking up his carefully crafted "impromptu"remarks! Brother Patrick was far more down to earth than the others, with a short fuse and a no nonsense manner. In 1955 he was the first person EVER to publicly call me ""Tony", when going around the Class putting faces to the list of names he had. It stuck well and truly! I had never liked it, and had always been called "Ant"or "Anth"in the family and at Marist Brothers Lidcombe it was "Dicko" as for many other boys Surname contraction or embellishment was used e.g. "Walshie". 

Brother Samuel who had taught me in Sixth Class at Lidcombe came to Darlo in 1956 but since he was teaching Primary School I did not have much to do with him. The last of the Brothers I recall was a young chap Brother Athanasius( a mighty Patron to live up to!) He took our Latin Class and had great trouble with one young fellow, whose name I had better not mention in case I might be deemed to sully his reputation, but he was a little terror and beyond rational control.

For the first time I encountered Lay Teachers here at Darlo. Mr. Connolly and Mr. Everingham were both good men, Mr.Connolly the younger ( perhaps 50) and the more likeable. He had lost a son due to illness I believe, and the trauma was reputed to be the cause of his virtual baldness save for a few irregular tufts of hair. He was also given a rough time by the usual suspects. Mr. Everingham was much older (60 Plus) and seemed rather crabby  and was not popular. The arrival of Lay Teachers into Catholic Schools may have been necessary as the number of religious vocations declined in the face of post-War prosperity and growing materialism, but it was quite adverse in its effect on the authentic Catholic spirit of our schools and the quality of Religious education.

Our Darlo years came to an end after we sat for the State Leaving Certificate examinations. To do this, we Darlinghurst Catholic School Students were required to go for several days to Cranbrook College (Anglican I think) a very expensive and snobby place which had a reputation for rather "limp-wristed boys"which was carefully nurtured by a ditty to the tune of the Sailors Hornpipe tune. It must not have been a reputation given only by our students because in later years I heard the same thing referred to on Radio National. Anyway we were set at some psychological disadvantage by the requirement. The reputation of the "Cranbrook"students was re-inforced in our eyes when we found most of them falling in with their own "fashion"of getting about with their shirt collars turned up! We did not regard such affectations well!

The years of High School culminate in the Leaving Certificate results which have become a much more frenzied pre-occupation in recent decades. After a short period they fade quickly in importance as the real world takes over our lives. I did quite well in the exam and my now Brother-in law did somewhat better and Darlo acquitted itself quite well overall as I remember. Tony went on to University in the Arts Faculty , and I went on to St. Columba's Minor Seminary at Springwood. And that is another story!

*EX LIBRIS :: "WOMEN IN THE DAYS OF THE CATHEDRALS" A MARVELLOUS WOMAN IN A.D. 841

Revealing surprisingly attractive personalities in dark and distant times.

We are often left with an absolutely false and depressing view of Medieval times, and in fact, the word itself has become a pejorative term, doing a great injustice to the people of those times and their achievements in the face of barbarian Viking, Mohammedan (from North Africa) and Magyar (from Hungary) raiders. 

Some 650 years before Rabelais, and later Montaigne wrote their treatises on Education, a laywoman, wife and mother named Dhouda wrote "A Manual for My Son " which was published in French in 1975.

Charlemagne had been crowned Emperor by the Pope in the year 800. But upon his death, in 814, his three sons began to fight among themselves over who should rule. Dhouda was of noble birth and began to write her work at age 40 years in 841 . The times were troubled indeed and it must have been hard to know where to stand. Dhouda's husband was Bernard of Septimania who was executed for treason in 844 for supporting Pepin of Aquitaine in the struggle against his brother Charles the Bald. Dhouda's son William was also executed for treason five years  later in 849.  

But, in 841, all of that lay in the future. Before we read somethings she wrote, we need to know something about her. She was, like all educated Catholics of her time totally immersed in knowledge and love of Sacred Scripture - both New and Old Testament were her daily points of reference, as they were for her sons. So she could confidently write to them making allusions to details of Sacred Scripture with no doubt that they would understand. She was a prayerful person, praying the Divine Office every day. She was a very down to earth, practical achiever, managing the family estates whilst her husband and sons were away for extended periods on military campaigns. This practicality of hers even extended to negotiating loans when extra funds were needed for the estates. She was a devoted wife and mother as will become plain, and in so  many ways she was a model of Christian living. Let us hear her words, from this work which occupies 370 pages in the modern translation,   the first of which to Son William was "Lege"("Read") :
First she urges him "to read and to pray ". "" In your involvement in the preoccupations of this world, do not neglect buying yourself many books with which you can, through the teaching of the holy Fathers and masters, discover and learn about God the Creator more than you can find here........you have and will have  books to read, to leaf through, to meditate, to deepen, to understand, and you will even very easily find scholars to teach you.They will provide you with examples of the good you can do to comply with your double duty( no doubt to his father and to his lord.)..She later went on.."People who apparently succeed in the world and are rich in possessions and who nevertheless, with dark malice, never cease to  envy and to tear apart their neighbour as much as they can, and this under  cover of honesty  ..... those I invite you to watch, to flee from  , to avoid" Perhaps surprisingly, only 10 of the 370 pages are taken up with issues of morality. Dhouda is always humble and tenderly respectful in addressing her Son :  "I pray and suggest humbly to you..", "I exhort you my son....", "I , your mother, however lowly I am according to my smallness and the limits of my understanding...."                                           

This was a labour of love and that is a key feature of her writing : "Love God, seek God, love your younger brother, love your friends and the companions among whom you live at the royal or Imperial Court, love the poor and the unhappy, love everyone so that you may be loved by all, cherish them so as to be cherished by them."

If the above book were to be purchased for the full story of Dhouda alone , it would be worthwhile. The lengthy account of Dhouda from pp 45 to 54  is a joy to read and I have only been able to give my readers a brief taste here. I urge you to track down the Book and get to know more about this dear lady from 1,200 years ago! 

A final, fitting consequence of her life: Her Grandson William the Pious was instrumental in the founding of the great Abbey of Cluny which led the reform of the monastic movement and truly flourished for centuries to the greater glory of God.

*EX LIBRIS : "A HISTORY OF PRIVATE LIFE" : Speadeagled at the Crossroad

I love Roman portraits of this style . They usually seem to be young couples -
perhaps  it was "chic"to have one done. 

This is certainly a handsome book, a 670 page larger format softcover, published by Harvard's Belknap Press in 1992. But like the Church of England Curate's egg it is "good in parts".  It is made up of a series of chapters by different authors and at times their writings are somewhat contradictory, and at other times disclose a degree of anti-Christian prejudice. But those parts are minor and , for the most part it is an interesting and rewarding read.

I wanted to bring to your notice a really interesting piece from the book, which for the life of me I can't find at present, despite three careful skimmings ! I am sure you have had the experience - you KNOW roughly where it is in the book, you KNOW it is on the left hand page starting in the lower half etc., but the more you look, the more the text seems to conceal itself. So, I am simply asking you to let me tell you.

 The author is dealing with aspects of law in the period of late Antiquity, recounting some surprising oddities. The example is given of a law that provided the death penalty for anyone who, coming upon a man spreadeagled and staked to the ground at his feet and ankles at a cross-road, attempted to cut him loose. Weird, we might think - what was going on?

Further research showed that the penalty for rape at the time was to be thus spreadeagled at the crossroad and left there to die!! Obviously family or tribal sympathies - if not Charity - might have tempted someone to remove the wretched fellow from his agony. But the death penalty was a strong deterrent! The good old days.

The motive may not have been "women's rights"- rightsspeak lay many hundreds of years in the future, but concern for family honour worked in this time to protect women from harm as far as practicable. The same result is sought to-day but dressed up in different verbiage.

*1955-1956 MARIST BROTHERS DARLINGHURST _ BLUE AND BLUE PART TWO

ZEROING IN 1955 - MY BEST FRIEND AND FUTURE BROTHER-IN - LAW TONY HANNON EXTREME LEFT BACK ROW 

ZEROING IN 1956 TONY HAS MOVED TO THE RIGHT A LITTLE IN THE BACK ROW, WHILST YOUR SCRIBE HAS MOVED DOWN TO THE FOURTH ROW DOWN THIRD FROM THE RIGHT - AND HAS OBVIOUSLY BEEN WATCHING TOO MUCH LENI RIEFENSTAHL!

The photos above are now 56 and 55 years old respectively. It is interesting that what they do in my mind is summon up a series of brief thumb-nail sketches of a remarkably diverse range of rapidly forming personalities.  I can't share them all in full and one or two might be deemed libellous in any case, so I shall confine myself to a very few.

 It needs to be borne in mind, that the majority of the Class were longtime students of "Darlo"as it was affectionately known, but in the year I transferred in on my own, a group of boys from Marist Brothers Bondi, which had closed in an Archdiocesan Schools rationalisation, came to Darlo. I think about 10 were in our class, including Tony Hannon ( now my Brother-in-Law) . Tony and I shared many interests in common, but especially History and movies and Goon Show humour. We frequently  went to the movies and bushwalking and in later years .Each of us had a bewildering succession of cameras and cars, perhaps I led the race in the "bewildering range"area. Zany humor was the order of the day and the Goon Show was the ideal grist for our mental mills. Here was a friendship that was to last through the decades and I would still, anytime, trust my life to Tony.

I guess I was rather reserved in those days with most people so I did not form close friendships with other students - living 12-14 miles away to the West didn't help in that regard, I was always coming from or going to a different place to everyone else. I got to know a little and to like the irrepressible Roger Constable, an incorrigible wag who delighted in "stirring". There were several students who repeated 5th Year for their personal reasons. Whilst I didn't "hate"school I was impatient to be out in the world and independent of the regimented routine of school.

I particularly admired, but was not close to, several students for various  reasons : Bill Allport for his ultra modest manner and politeness coupled with academic ability and athletic success, Brian Wyndham for his manly bearing and good humour and outgoing personality - he was also accomplished as Drum Major in the School Cadets and Paul Langford for his quiet but friendly manner and genuine openness. The Class had varied outcomes in our lives one  student became a successful lawyer, another a doctor, another a dentist, another went into the Army , at least one a teacher ( my Brother-in- Law Tony with great distinction as a much admired Rugby Coach of Sydney Boys High and longtime enthusiastic and accomplished History Teacher) . Another was Bob Vagg who became media  famous for a time in the Financial Press as an "expert"executive of a major American Merchant Bank. But, several financial crises later that is not the sort of "darling"the media cultivates. 

I joined the Cadet Corps in 4th Year and saw the year out without distinction and did not sign up again for 5th Year. Interestingly, whilst re-reading the book "The Old School Tie"by Father John O'Neill the well-known Parish Priest of Doonside in Sydney's western suburbs, I came across a description that immediately brought to mind a Cadet Corps figure with outstanding clarity. The book is based on Father O'Neill's life together with that of another Priest friend. Names are fictionalised and some characters are "telescoped"for the purpose of the book, but it is all based solidly on fact.The hero and his friend and fellow Priest to be are both students at the Cathedral School and are members of the Cadet Corps.  The Permanent Army supervisor of the Cadet Unit at the School is "a World War Two and Korean War veteran, Sergeant Peter Irwin". When the two friends are at a mixed Schools Cadet Camp at Singleton and attendance at Sunday Mass makes them a tad late for breakfast in the Mess Hut the cook abuses them and won't serve them. The story goes on :
"He did not notice Sergeant Irwin standing near.
  Get breakfast for these men Cookie", said Irwin, They've been to Church Parade, I don't think we'll penalise them for being Christians."
The cook grumbled as he sloshed porridge into bowls, and slapped rounds of toast onto cold plates.
"Thank you Cookie", said Irwin. "Enjoy your breakfast gentlemen."
'Thank you Sir, they replied.
"If you can't enjoy it, offer it up"laughed the Sergeant as he walked away, and from that remark, the boys knew they had a fellow Catholic in high places."

Our Cadet Unit at Darlinghurst - just up the hill from St.Mary's Cathedral College was obviously supervised by the same man as the Cathedral College :- the smiling, manly Warrant Officer Sam Irwin who exuded an admirable competence, efficiency and self - possession that made him universally admired. He was every inch the professional soldier, and a great fellow.