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| My dear Mum & Dad on the right, but one of the heroes of this post is Father Cornelius "Con"Donovan a true son of Ireland and graduate of All Hallows Seminary. |
He had been instructed to build a Presbytery. Many years later he recalled "I was ordered to build a presbytery when I came here but, you see, the numbers of children wanting to come to school increased so much that we were forced to build a Parish School first." so, Father Donovan came to live for 12 years under the care of the McLean family in the Regents Park Hotel...."the most difficult time of my life"he later recalled whilst praising the McLean family.
On 28th January, 1940 the new Archbishop, Norman Gilroy blessed the foundation stone of the new Church/School on Regents Street, where I was to be schooled from 1946 to 1949 - 1st Class to 4th Class. The day is recorded as being extremely hot at over 40 Degrees Celsius.The new building was opened less than 5 months later on 9th June, 1940.The old wooden Church/School up on Kingsland Road, which had originally been sited in Fourth Avenue behind Grandma Dixon's house in Third Avenue, would become the Parish Hall. It was in this aged building that the First Communion Breakfast for my classmates and me was set up in 1947.
The Church/School was a great success. At the Eastern end was the Sacristy, Sanctuary Confessional and three rows of pews.Here Father Donovan said Holy Mass each morning and, on Friday evenings after school was finished, we kids had immense fun opening the huge folding doors between the classrooms and the final one to the Sanctuary. Then there was the best fun , racing the seats down the length of the building to turn the whole into a Church for Sunday Masses.
None of your wimpy 9.00am Post Conciliar Masses then - morning Mass, winter through to Summer was at 6.00 am.- up the hill I would go on First Fridays , always beaten by the old gents and ladies who in these pathetic times are "too frail"for Mass before 9.00 a.m. There were good numbers of us kids. And the Nuns were there en bloc - an example to everyone . And then there was dear Father Donovan.The vestments we have come to know as "Roman"were always perfect, the Maniple from time to time a minor problem.we had a Gong struck by the Altar Boy, rather than a Bell. However, there was a small silver bell kept in the Nun's pews in case the designated Altar Boy failed to appear for any reason.Then one of the Sisters could do the necessary without entering the Sanctuary - it was rarely necessary.
Several memories are stirred by this account. One morning after the 6.00 a.m.Mass Father Donovan beckoned to me and asked if I would take the Mass Kit Box up to the Convent on Kingsland Road. "Yes Father was the keen reply". Father brought the Box with its sacred contents of Chalice , Paten etc. and passed it to me , impressing on me its sacred character. Off I went up the grassed acreage toward the Convent full of devout concentration - too much so it seems, for I tripped and the box fell to the ground. I picked myself up, and the Box , which had not opened, and - grateful for my good fortune, delivered it to the Sisters who cared for it until the following day. That was that - I thought.
About ten days later, from his great height , Father Donovan called to me " Antonny!" - "Good Morning Father" "Antonny, when you took the Mass Kit Box to the Convent , was there a problem?"A benign look down from his great height....""Ummmmm, Yes Father, I tripped and the box fell to the ground ......But it didn't open!!" "Don't worry, it caused a little dint in the Chalice , but I have had it repaired and its OK - I just wanted to know. Don't worry now!"And that was that!
On another occasion a mate and I went into the chapel which the Sanctuary end of the building became during the week to pay a visit to the Blessed Sacrament. Somehow our devotion must have lapsed, and his eyes lit onto the silver Bell used by the Nuns when the Altar Boy wasn't present.He dared me to ring it. Evidently I was more daring at 6/7 years of age than later, because I did and then swiftly returned to my kneeler in the pew. But the tinkle of the silver Bell did not go unheard. To our horror we heard the rustle of a Religious Habit and the jangle of Rosary Beads as one of the Nuns came swiftly along the Verandah
About a year later, after Mass one morning Father Donovan asked me to be an Altar Boy - my head was full of wild confusion - I really was delighted to be asked and desperately wanted to be an Altar Boy. BUT I was painfully shy, and I found myself saying against my real wishes "No thank you Father ". Father Donovan was obviously perplexed and once more urged me to accept but my embarrassment only grew - I said "No thank you"again - and that was that. There was no reason Father should understand my decision, Heaven knows I was so conflicted in my head I didn't understand!!The subject was never raised again, and I was free of the risk of embarrassing myself by making a fool of myself on the Altar.
Father Donovan was far from being eloquent, in fact in one to one discussion he was a little awkward as became obvious when he made his Parish visitation and called at our home. My Father was even more awkward in any difficult situation, and Father sought to get him back to attending Mass. No luck....that would not happen until years later when Mum had been terribly ill.But we all loved Father very much and appreciated how much he had given up to leave family and friends and his beloved Ireland to come and look after our spiritual welfare. He was a good and faithful and true Priest whom I would love to be able to thank in Heaven.He completed a remarkable building programme Convent, Presbytery,several School expansion projects up to High School and a fine new Church - built before the Pizza Hut design era.Father Donovan died at age 78 on 30th December, 1975- Requiescat in Pace.
We had another gift from Ireland , in the person of Sister Austin . I have no photograph of her, but she was the Superior of the little community of Sisters of Saint Joseph who taught at our Convent School in St. Peter Chanel's Parish. Sister Austin was kind and concerned for our well-being in every way. I loved the way, in her Irish lilt she called me "Ant'ny". She made our Primary schooling a very special experience along with Sister Alan, Sister Christina and others. They were devout and selfless women, kind and gentle and dedicated to our well-being. Nothing "I gotta be me" about them.Saint Mary Mackillop of the Cross would have no trouble recognising them - unlike some to-day in Country Road clothes , bangle and necklaces and footy scarves!
Thank you Father Donovan, Sister Austin and companions AND THANK YOU IRELAND!
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