CHILDHOOD 1947/48 THANK YOU IRELAND

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.

Father Con Donovan was a big man by any measure.He was born in Araglen, County Cloyne on 2nd December, 1897. His education began at the National School, and he went on to Mt. Melleray College. In due course he graduated from the National University in Dublin in 1920 as a Bachelor of Arts.He was ordained Priest on 15th June, 1924 at All Hallows College the famed Seminary in Dublin. He very soon left for Australia, arriving on Melbourne Cup Day, 1924.He served as Assistant Priest in Camperdown, Bondi, Annandale, Mt.Carmel, Gosford, Broadway and Enfield. He was briefly Administrator of Lawson Parish and on 14th July, 1938 he was appointed Parish Priest of Berala by Archbishop Kelly to replace another Irishman Father Carmody who was terminally ill.

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!

1957 THOUGHTS OF ENTERING THE SEMINARY

This Post first appeared on 23rd November, 2011. I am repeating it to give some depth to my FB Cover Picture for this week, and further Posts will deepen that.

YOURS TRULY WEARING HOLY NAME SOCIETY BADGE
READY FOR THE SEMINARY - NEEDS A BLACK TIE
CAN A BIRETTA BE MADE TO FIT SIZE 6 7/8ths?

1957. -  TO THE SEMINARY

For a very long time, I had hoped to become a Priest. It was not a casually, or even easily, formed idea. Rather, it was one that I struggled with. I have very clear recollections of a long period in which sermons on the need for Priestly vocations used to really upset my peace of mind, and cause pangs of conscience because I had put the idea out of my head for a time.

I suppose the preparation of the "ground" to receive the seed of the idea, dated back to my very early childhood and the time of my First Holy Communion at age 7. From that time on Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament has captured my heart, soul and mind, and has, mercifully, never let go even in times of very great distress. Naturally, loving Our Lord, I loved the Catholic Church in which we are one with Him as He has intended. So, it seems to me, it would not have been a large leap to be attracted to the idea of Priesthood.

But the decision is not that simple, and one must always be open to what God wants us to do, not simply what we might want to do. And this balance is worked out in many and various ways, not always predictable.

I believe it was in Second Year of High School in 1953, at Marist Brothers High School Lidcombe that the idea of becoming a Priest first crystallized in my mind. The Archdiocesan Vocations Director visited the School and spoke to the senior classes. I don't recall his name - it may have been Father Enright (? - probably not). Anyway, he was a good and sincere Priest, not at all pre-possessing or charismatic - just your ordinary meat and potatoes sort of Aussie. He spoke to those of us interested, individually. No conclusions were reached of course, but I was a contact to be followed and glad to be such.

In 1954 there was a new Vocations Director, Father Kevin McGovern a short man with reddish hair. I admired him very much. He was a typical hard-working Aussie Priest of that time, and Chaplain to the large migrant community in the Chullora/Greenacre area. Chullora's principal claim to fame was the massive Railway Workshops located on the large triangle of land bounded on the North by the Regents Park to Enfield Marshalling Yards goods line, and on the South-East by Liverpool Road. Across the railway to the North lay the immense Rookwood Cemetery, one of the largest in the world.

Father McGovern lived an austere, tough life. From time to time small groups of prospective Seminary entrants visited him for a few hours in his home. It was either a demountable or a large caravan (I can't focus my mental picture closely enough to say which, but there was scarcely room to move).It was very cramped. He had no real privacy. Since his "home" was sited on Workshops land, he had a steady stream of those in his care coming to the door. It was an excellent introduction to the unglamorous aspects of the life of a Priest. It certainly gave the lie to the later glib jeers of false "spirit of the Council" types about "Sacristy Priests “ in their imagined pre Conciliar Church! His was a tough life, but with his strong Faith, he was the man for it. He obviously loved it. Father spoke some Italian and, through various multilingual workers this gave him the ability to communicate with workers from many countries. These were the days of almost exclusively European migration. I vividly recall him relating how one of his co-operants had complained to him that "it is impossible to teach some of these people English - they don't even speak their own language properly!"

St Patrick's College Manly
(the flags show it is a post Seminary days photo)

Father McGovern arranged for groups of us to attend open days at great Saint Patrick's College Manly, the Major Seminary. It's massive sandstone pile dominated the scene above Manly Beach - the building still does but, on a long term lease, it is now a Catering College (thanks? To Cardinal Clancy).Its very beautiful Chapel with seating arranged in Choir is still impressive ( though to turn a buck as the Americans say, it is hired out for weddings, as in the case of Nicole Kidman etc.)

Then, in 1956, Father took us on a tour of the Minor Seminary, Saint Columba's at Springwood on the Blue Mountains. We went up by car and entered the Seminary through the formal gateway and up the curved driveway. We were greeted at the entrance by the gregarious Dr George Joyner whose deep booming voice would become very familiar. Although not built on the heroic lines of Manly, the Minor Seminary was impressive and ordered around a quadrangle with a fine Chapel off it's Western side. Once again, the Chapel seating was arranged in Choir and this was quite a novelty for most of us. Before we were shown around the Seminary the formidable Rector, Monsignor "Charlie" Dunne joined us and cast a critical eye over his prospective charges.

St.Columba's Minor Seminary Springwood
(the Sign behind the car was not there when it was a Seminary- a "sign of the (bad) times I guess)

Many tales are told of the legendary Monsignor Dunne. One I enjoy, which comes out of a long gone tradition of spiritual rigor and testing, involved calling a student to his office. As the student entered, he would inevitably be confronted by a letter "dropped" on the floor. If he chose to helpfully pick it up, he would be challenged for suggesting that the Rector kept an untidy office! If he ignored it he would be berated for being thoughtless and sloppy!

At least he would always treat the Rector with greater caution!

Monsignor Dunne had a habit of holding the bottom corner of the cape like lapel of his cassock with his left hand, which became a cypher for those mimicking him to show who their intended target was. But that lay in the future.

Toward the end of 1956 the time arrived to make a formal application for admission to the Seminary. This brought to a head the question of my parents' attitude to what I had intended. Both my Mum and Dad were opposed. I am sure that it was a matter of genuine concern for what they believed was in my best interest. But, in time, first Mum and then Dad came to reluctantly agree to my seeking entry to the Seminary. This meant that I needed to obtain a reference from our Parish Priest the Irish born Father Con Donovan, whom I had known since my childhood.

A giant of a gift from Ireland
Parish Priest Father Con Donovan
and at his feet LH Corner of pic -Yours Truly
after First Holy Communion 1947

But, as a family we were not "Churchy" people, and certainly not ones to have close relations to the Clergy or Religious - or, for that matter, to anyone else outside of family! So that contacts with our PP were always at the formal level.

When I was about 7 or 8 Father had asked me after Mass one weekday if I would be an Altar Server. I desperately wanted to say "Yes!", but I was painfully shy and had always had it drummed into me not to be pushy. So I said "No thank you." Father tried once more to convince me, but when I again said "No" he put no pressure on me and let the matter drop. I can recall sometime later the School Principal Sister Austin, whose favourite I believe I was, expressing disappointment at my decision - I think she had been the promoter of the idea. She was always very kind to me and I loved her soft Irish accent and the lilting way she call led me "An'tny" . God rest her Soul.

Then after a year or so, Father entrusted me one morning after Mass to carry the Mass Kit up to the Presbytery. Such was the state of my excitement at this Sacred Trust, that I stumbled unseen as I crossed the grassy paddock, and the box fell to the ground. It appeared undamaged so I said nothing. a week or so later, Father asked me one morning after Mass, if anything had happened to the box when I carried it. I had to tell him. "Ah well, that's it!" Said he. "There is a small dent in the Chalice, but I shall be able to get it fixed -don't worry. Thanks!" And that was that. No recriminations, not even a grim look - Pastor Bonus!

So I made an appointment and at the due time went to the Presbytery where Father Donovan told me he would be happy to provide me with a recommendation. We spoke about the fact that another young Parishoner was about to enter another Seminary and then Father reminisced about his own time at All Hallows Seminary in Ireland. I recall him saying that the Rector there had forced the abandonment of Gaelic Football because the violence it provoked was contrary to Christian Charity. When the time came to leave, I found great difficulty in getting up out of the Lounge Chair in the Presbytery Study. It was so constructed that the seat was very close to the floor. It was very comfortable to sit in but left one flailing around like a maniac trying to get up!

First Australian born Archbishop of Sydney __ Norman Thomas Cardinal Gilroy who enlisted in WWI by lowering his age, with Father Con Donovan
at the Blessing and opening of one of the many Church buildings erected in Father's hard working , self-effacing time.

In due course I received a letter from the Seminary requiring me to present myself  at Saint Mary's Cathedral for interview. I arrived in good time on the appointed day, and found that the interviews were to be conducted in the Sacristy area . There was a large number of us, and we gathered in a passageway off the Sacristy sitting on long pews.I recall one of the students was greatly excited about his forthcoming visit to the Melbourne Olympic Games. He is now a Priest in Sydney's West.

Finally I was ushered into the Sacristy where the interviewing panel was headed by no less a person than the Archbishop, Cardinal Norman Gilroy. Monsignor Dunne was also there and Dr. Joyner I believe , but I couldn't vouch for the rest. But I think there were five in all.The word SILENCE in large red letters dominated the Sacristy.

His Eminence did almost all the talking, perhaps after a brief introduction by the Rector. He was the soul of kindness and generosity of spirit. He understood that I had gone to Marist Brothers Darlinghurst (about 14 miles from my home)to preserve my Latin and knew that was a token of my earnest intention. But he was concerned at the "great difficulty" such lengthy travel to and fro each day must have been. I had never thought much about it. But I was mightily impressed that a Cardinal could think of my personal difficulties.

 In the end I was thanked for attending and told that I would receive a letter in due course. I walked out greatly relieved and joyful, and yet wondering how things would be. A visit to the Blessed Sacrament followed before I went out - into the world it was all about saving.

*1957 TO THE SEMINARY

YOURS TRULY WEARING HOLY NAME SOCIETY BADGE
READY FOR THE SEMINARY - NEEDS A BLACK TIE
CAN A BIRETTA BE MADE TO FIT SIZE 6 7/8ths?

1957. -  TO THE SEMINARY

For a very long time, I had hoped to become a Priest. It was not a casually, or even easily, formed idea. Rather, it was one that I struggled with. I have very clear recollections of a long period in which sermons on the need for Priestly vocations used to really upset my peace of mind, and cause pangs of conscience because I had put the idea out of my head for a time.

I suppose the preparation of the "ground" to receive the seed of the idea, dated back to my very early childhood and the time of my First Holy Communion at age 7. From that time on Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament has captured my heart, soul and mind, and has, mercifully, never let go even in times of very great distress. Naturally, loving Our Lord, I loved the Catholic Church in which we are one with Him as He has intended. So, it seems to me, it would not have been a large leap to be attracted to the idea of Priesthood.

But the decision is not that simple, and one must always be open to what God wants us to do, not simply what we might want to do. And this balance is worked out in many and various ways, not always predictable.

I believe it was in Second Year of High School in 1953, at Marist Brothers High School Lidcombe that the idea of becoming a Priest first crystallized in my mind. The Archdiocesan Vocations Director visited the School and spoke to the senior classes. I don't recall his name - it may have been Father Enright (? - probably not). Anyway, he was a good and sincere Priest, not at all pre-possessing or charismatic - just your ordinary meat and potatoes sort of Aussie. He spoke to those of us interested, individually. No conclusions were reached of course, but I was a contact to be followed and glad to be such.

In 1954 there was a new Vocations Director, Father Kevin McGovern a short man with reddish hair. I admired him very much. He was a typical hard-working Aussie Priest of that time, and Chaplain to the large migrant community in the Chullora/Greenacre area. Chullora's principal claim to fame was the massive Railway Workshops located on the large triangle of land bounded on the North by the Regents Park to Enfield Marshalling Yards goods line, and on the South-East by Liverpool Road. Across the railway to the North lay the immense Rookwood Cemetery, one of the largest in the world.

Father McGovern lived an austere, tough life. From time to time small groups of prospective Seminary entrants visited him for a few hours in his home. It was either a demountable or a large caravan (I can't focus my mental picture closely enough to say which, but there was scarcely room to move).It was very cramped. He had no real privacy. Since his "home" was sited on Workshops land, he had a steady stream of those in his care coming to the door. It was an excellent introduction to the unglamorous aspects of the life of a Priest. It certainly gave the lie to the later glib jeers of false "spirit of the Council" types about "Sacristy Priests “ in their imagined pre Conciliar Church! His was a tough life, but with his strong Faith, he was the man for it. He obviously loved it. Father spoke some Italian and, through various multilingual workers this gave him the ability to communicate with workers from many countries. These were the days of almost exclusively European migration. I vividly recall him relating how one of his co-operants had complained to him that "it is impossible to teach some of these people English - they don't even speak their own language properly!"

St Patrick's College Manly
(the flags show it is a post Seminary days photo)

Father McGovern arranged for groups of us to attend open days at great Saint Patrick's College Manly, the Major Seminary. It's massive sandstone pile dominated the scene above Manly Beach - the building still does but, on a long term lease, it is now a Catering College (thanks? To Cardinal Clancy).Its very beautiful Chapel with seating arranged in Choir is still impressive ( though to turn a buck as the Americans say, it is hired out for weddings, as in the case of Nicole Kidman etc.)

Then, in 1956, Father took us on a tour of the Minor Seminary, Saint Columba's at Springwood on the Blue Mountains. We went up by car and entered the Seminary through the formal gateway and up the curved driveway. We were greeted at the entrance by the gregarious Dr George Joyner whose deep booming voice would become very familiar. Although not built on the heroic lines of Manly, the Minor Seminary was impressive and ordered around a quadrangle with a fine Chapel off it's Western side. Once again, the Chapel seating was arranged in Choir and this was quite a novelty for most of us. Before we were shown around the Seminary the formidable Rector, Monsignor "Charlie" Dunne joined us and cast a critical eye over his prospective charges.

St.Columba's Minor Seminary Springwood
(the Sign behind the car was not there when it was a Seminary- a "sign of the (bad) times I guess)

Many tales are told of the legendary Monsignor Dunne. One I enjoy, which comes out of a long gone tradition of spiritual rigor and testing, involved calling a student to his office. As the student entered, he would inevitably be confronted by a letter "dropped" on the floor. If he chose to helpfully pick it up, he would be challenged for suggesting that the Rector kept an untidy office! If he ignored it he would be berated for being thoughtless and sloppy!

At least he would always treat the Rector with greater caution!

Monsignor Dunne had a habit of holding the bottom corner of the cape like lapel of his cassock with his left hand, which became a cypher for those mimicking him to show who their intended target was. But that lay in the future.

Toward the end of 1956 the time arrived to make a formal application for admission to the Seminary. This brought to a head the question of my parents' attitude to what I had intended. Both my Mum and Dad were opposed. I am sure that it was a matter of genuine concern for what they believed was in my best interest. But, in time, first Mum and then Dad came to reluctantly agree to my seeking entry to the Seminary. This meant that I needed to obtain a reference from our Parish Priest the Irish born Father Con Donovan, whom I had known since my childhood.

A giant of a gift from Ireland
Parish Priest Father Con Donovan
and at his feet LH Corner of pic -Yours Truly
after First Holy Communion 1947

But, as a family we were not "Churchy" people, and certainly not ones to have close relations to the Clergy or Religious - or, for that matter, to anyone else outside of family! So that contacts with our PP were always at the formal level.

When I was about 7 or 8 Father had asked me after Mass one weekday if I would be an Altar Server. I desperately wanted to say "Yes!", but I was painfully shy and had always had it drummed into me not to be pushy. So I said "No thank you." Father tried once more to convince me, but when I again said "No" he put no pressure on me and let the matter drop. I can recall sometime later the School Principal Sister Austin, whose favourite I believe I was, expressing disappointment at my decision - I think she had been the promoter of the idea. She was always very kind to me and I loved her soft Irish accent and the lilting way she call led me "An'tny" . God rest her Soul.

Then after a year or so, Father entrusted me one morning after Mass to carry the Mass Kit up to the Presbytery. Such was the state of my excitement at this Sacred Trust, that I stumbled unseen as I crossed the grassy paddock, and the box fell to the ground. It appeared undamaged so I said nothing. a week or so later, Father asked me one morning after Mass, if anything had happened to the box when I carried it. I had to tell him. "Ah well, that's it!" Said he. "There is a small dent in the Chalice, but I shall be able to get it fixed -don't worry. Thanks!" And that was that. No recriminations, not even a grim look - Pastor Bonus!

So I made an appointment and at the due time went to the Presbytery where Father Donovan told me he would be happy to provide me with a recommendation. We spoke about the fact that another young Parishoner was about to enter another Seminary and then Father reminisced about his own time at All Hallows Seminary in Ireland. I recall him saying that the Rector there had forced the abandonment of Gaelic Football because the violence it provoked was contrary to Christian Charity. When the time came to leave, I found great difficulty in getting up out of the Lounge Chair in the Presbytery Study. It was so constructed that the seat was very close to the floor. It was very comfortable to sit in but left one flailing around like a maniac trying to get up!

First Australian born Archbishop of Sydney __ Norman Thomas Cardinal Gilroy who enlisted in WWI by lowering his age, with Father Con Donovan
at the Blessing and opening of one of the many Church buildings erected in Father's hard working , self-effacing time.

In due course I received a letter from the Seminary requiring me to present myself  at Saint Mary's Cathedral for interview. I arrived in good time on the appointed day, and found that the interviews were to be conducted in the Sacristy area . There was a large number of us, and we gathered in a passageway off the Sacristy sitting on long pews.I recall one of the students was greatly excited about his forthcoming visit to the Melbourne Olympic Games. He is now a Priest in Sydney's West.

Finally I was ushered into the Sacristy where the interviewing panel was headed by no less a person than the Archbishop, Cardinal Norman Gilroy. Monsignor Dunne was also there and Dr. Joyner I believe , but I couldn't vouch for the rest. But I think there were five in all.The word SILENCE in large red letters dominated the Sacristy.

His Eminence did almost all the talking, perhaps after a brief introduction by the Rector. He was the soul of kindness and generosity of spirit. He understood that I had gone to Marist Brothers Darlinghurst (about 14 miles from my home)to preserve my Latin and knew that was a token of my earnest intention. But he was concerned at the "great difficulty" such lengthy travel to and fro each day must have been. I had never thought much about it. But I was mightily impressed that a Cardinal could think of my personal difficulties.

 In the end I was thanked for attending and told that I would receive a letter in due course. I walked out greatly relieved and joyful, and yet wondering how things would be. A visit to the Blessed Sacrament followed before I went out into the world it was all about saving.

*THANK YOU IRELAND !

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.

Father Con Donovan was a big man by any measure.He was born in Araglen, County Cloyne on 2nd December, 1897 .His education began at the National School, and he went on to Mt. Melleray College. In due course he graduated from the National University in Dublin in 1920 as a Bachelor of Arts.He was ordained Priest on 15th June, 1924 at All Hallows College the famed Seminary in Dublin. He very soon left for Australia, arriving on Melbourne Cup Day, 1924.He served as Assistant Priest in Camperdown, Bondi, Annandale, Mt.Carmel, Gosford, Broadway and Enfield. He was briefly Administrator of Lawson Parish and on 14th July, 1938 he was appointed Parish Priest of Berala by Archbishop Kelly to replace another Irishman Father Carmody who was terminally ill.
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 communty 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!