1947 RELAXATION - MANLY BEACH AND A CULTURAL ICON PEEPING OUT

WITH MY DAD IN PITT STREET,SYDNEY 
OUTSIDE THE WATER BOARD HEAD OFFICE

 It may seem bizarre, but here I am with my Dad, going to the beach! Yes that was the way we and most others dressed for a casual day out! Did you spot the "Cultural Icon "peeping out? Take a close look at my beach bucket - made in good sturdy tinware - no plastics then. (There was Bakelite - widely used in the ever more popular mantel radios, but it was brittle and far from suitable for any knockabout purposes.) On the bucket you will see the reproduction of the bow of R.M.S. Queen Mary whose image wrapped around the bucket - what more could a boy want! 

"The beach", for us almost invariably meant Manly -"7 Miles from Sydney and 1,000 miles from care!"as the signs inside the stately, steam powered ferries used to say. I loved the trip! The ferries themselves were impressive to me with beach names like "Barrenjoey", "Dee Why", "North Head"and the latest and greatest was "South Steyne"- stories of her sailing out from England ( where else!) were listened to in awe, including the tales of the seating having been burnt when fuel ran low!!These steam ferries had engine rooms that were visible from the passenger decks - looking down onto the tops of the cylinders with glimpses of the great piston rods and the cranks of the driveshaft. Scent of steam, oil, grease, sounds of the engineroom telegraph bell, the hiss of steam and the mechanical throb of the thrusting pistons and turning cranks were all come together most powerfully and enchantingly for this little boy.

As is still the case, nature being what it is, the matter of boarding the ferry was always a changing task as the tides at Circular Quay or at Manly ebbed and flowed. There were pairs of short , simple wooden planks with guard rails on one side only - for the lower or main deck, and very large and heavy steel framed ramps on wheels which the wharfhands moved into place for the Upper Deck.

The scent of the sea water at the Quay was complemented by the salt on the "Smiths Crisps" which were an inevitable complement to the journey.I can taste them now. Calls of "Stand Clear!"and the boarding ramps were withdrawn, the faces of disappointed late arrivers littered the wharf.The engineroom telegraph gave its double ring and gracefully we began to move away as the last of the mooring ropes were being coiled down. Generally we stayed on the Starboard or right side, the better to see the naval vessels at Garden Island Dockyard which is still the largest Naval Dockyard in the Southern Hemisphere, and had and still has, the largest heavy lift crane in the Southern Hemisphere.

As we turned out of Circular Quay and headed East down the Harbour we passed on our right the red brick pile of Fort Macquarie which, its name not withstanding, was a large tram depot.( Someone later had the idea that this would make a fine site for an Opera House....and you know the rest!)

For all my later and continuing interest in the Navy and Naval Vessels, it is a cruel truth that I have no memory at all of the many USN, RAN and even RN ships of all sizes that I must have seen there. However I have a very clear memory of the Hospital Ship "MANUNDA" beautifully white with a green band around her hull and emblazoned with the Red Cross on her sides, passing our ferry on her way back to the war. I can still recall the appalled reaction of my parents when, having heard that "MANUNDA"was her name I, very pleased with my rhyme announced "The "MANUNDA"went under"!.Perhaps it was this audience reaction that led to my disinterest in poetry for very many years.

S.S. SOUTH STEYNE Just past the Heads and running in to Manly Wharf

We swept past the homes of the rich and famous and the next point of interest was the Rose Bay Flying Boat Base - the Flying Boats themselves were sometimes to be seen at their moorings, and joy of joys, very occasionally taking off or landing - quite a show!

Some of the older ferries- still quite large, had internally an opening from the midships section of the Main Deck from which we could look down into the Engine Room and see and hear the  great steam piston engines driving the swiftly turning cranked propeller shafts! Sights , sounds and smells to win a young boy's heart! O how I loved it! And I was continually torn between this great drama and the colourful and varied scenes we were passing and the scent of the sea itself!


A gentle turn to Port (left) around Bradley's Head where I was taught to observe the masthead of HMAS SYDNEY ( I ) and reminded that "the SYDNEY sank the (German) EMDEN"in WW I. No-one mentioned the too-painful mystery of the loss of HMAS SYDNEY ( II ), still unexplained at that time.

Then , by degrees we began to feel the influence of the sea as we ran by the Heads. At times this was almost a non event - a mere tummy tickle, but, at other times the effect could be challenging - everyone looking for a handhold and the occasional person being ill. As the ferry headed some of the heavier waves, water would spray on board , what fun!Sometimes it was necessary to cancel the services due to rough seas. Later, as a teenager, I used to wait for days when the seas were reported rough at the Heads, and go into town (the City) with a friend to make the exciting crossing of the Heads - "exciting"- but safe otherwise the Ferries would be cancelled!

But "all good things must come to an end"and all too soon we were past the Heads and gliding into Manly wharf.Then we walked off down the Corso past the intriguing string of Milk Bars, Fish and Chip shops etc. etc. to the Promenade which gave onto the beach backed by the tall and pleasant Norfolk Island Pines. Looking up to the right we saw the imposing sandstone bulk of St.Patrick's Seminary. There are several points of departure from this point - but I shall take them up on later occasions.

*FATHERS DAY i MY DAD

JOHN JOSEPH DIXON (L of Photo) around 1911
WITH HIS MOTHER        & ALBERT (R)
AND BABY BROTHER BILL WHOM DAD GREATLY ADMIRED

 11th May, 2016 was the Twenty Fourth Anniversary of my Father's death just three weeks short of his 85th Birthday. He survived the death of my Mother by almost 21 years .

Sent to work at age 11 years in a metal foundry, he had a pretty tough life.

HERE, IN 1927 DAD LOOKS LIKE THE TYPICAL YOUNG BANKER OR CIVIL SERVANT
WHICH HE WAS NOT, HE ALWAYS WORKED IN BLUE COLLAR OCCUPATIONS

His life experience together with his local social network, made him a lifelong Labor Party voter. He persevered in this even after he said he was convinced that the Labor Party was riddled with Communists whom he despised - he just could not bring himself to desert the "working class party". And in fact he did see the world and the nation in those Victorian era Class terms.

My Dad was born a Catholic and educated in a Convent School, but for long periods did not practise his religion. Yet when his "kind eyes"won the heart of Miss Elsie Georgina Beckmann a petite and beautiful,modest girl from a devout Evangelical Protestant family , he required that they be properly married in the Catholic Church. Miss Beckmann was instructed in the Faith and duly became a Catholic, and they were married in 1927.

To-day's cynicism might suggest that he was being hypocritical. But in those days people were honest about doing wrong  - he knew it was wrong not to practise his religion, but he also knew that there are absolutes of such importance that you don't abuse them : he would not betray his Religion, even if he did not practise it - that Truth was bound to him for life.

When I was born, Dad was 32 years old ,he was never unkind to me, but not outgoing or physically demonstrative of his love. ( The Poet James Macauley writes powerfully of his own Father's inability to physically express any affection.) He worked on the construction of the great Garden Island Graving Dock, for the Navy. This was a protected employment category, which stopped him being sent on labour battalions to Darwin when he received the call-up. He could not be in the regular forces because of faulty eyesight resulting from an accident at the Foundry when he was about 13 yrs old.

As I grew up, all my interests were largely alien to my Dad except Politics, and even then we were on opposite sides of the fence!Only after many years did  I hear that Dad was very proud of my progress in Banking  and in other areas and used to regale his regular drinking mates at the hotel in Lidcombe with my latest efforts. We almost never got to talk at any length on  any subject , conversation being limited to brief exchanges of statements never pressed too far lest the heavy crunch of disagreement should wreck things.

Dad worked hard all through his life, and for most of my life after the War, he worked in the hot dirty atmosphere of Potts Hill Water Pumping Station , which he rode to and from on a bicycle in light and dark ( for he was a shift worker) and in summer heat and driving rain.It was about a twenty minutes bike ride each way.

In my twenties and thirties , I could of course, perceive all my Father's faults with clinical efficiency, whilst making every allowance for any tendency  to deficiency on my own part. As the years went by my Dad evolved, particularly after he came to see the devastating effect on my Mum's fragile mental health following a Hysterectomy. He came to see in time how cruel was the effect of stubborn,sullen silences - sometimes lasting 3 days - over some exaggerated "offence", on someone so vulnerable. He was transformed.

He also returned to the practise of the Faith which was very pleasing to see and took great delight in his three grandchildren, Marianne, Justine and Matthew and never ceased urging me to look after my wife!

But still he could not freely and easily communicate either emotions or ideas.Whether or not this disability stemmed from the treatment he received from his brutish and drunkard Father, I cannot say for sure, but if I were a betting man......

Dad's later years were plagued by troubles with his heart - suffering from an "enlarged heart"which caused recurring build-ups of fluid around the heart, these required repeated hospitalisation to relieve them but there could be no cure.

In fact he had just successfully completed one such routine and was about to be released when he suffered a heart attack and died. The Catholic Chaplain to the Auburn Hospital where Dad died was quickly on the spot to minister to  his poor body and pray for his soul. His name was Father Stephen Swift and I was most impressed by the card he left endorsed with all that needed to be done to ensure a proper Catholic burial - for he knew nothing of the family.

We were living in Brisbane at the time and I received a call from my Brother Pat telling me of Dad's death and saying that the Hospital  wanted to perform an autopsy. I was on the first plane down next morning and went straight to see the Doctor in Charge -  a young Asian gent. He was prompt to offer condolences and almost as prompt to proffer a form authorising an autopsy for signature. When I objected that they clearly knew the cause of death, and that  this was unnecessary, the form quickly disappeared into the pocket of his white coat. I informed him that after the long periods of my Dad's health problems, I did not want his body used for training purposes. This is a matter which I believe the Hospital handled very badly to say the least.

1947 WITH MY DAD IN PITT STREET SYDNEY

So John Joseph "Jack"Dixon I love you dearly and hope we have the opportunity to understand each other far better in Paradise.My prayers for the repose of your soul and of Mum's are daily made, because time is irrelevant in eternity.

*1945 -IMPRESSED? - IT KNOCKED MY SOCKS OFF!



H.M.S. ILLUSTRIOUS 23,500 tons WW II Aircraft Carrier.



The great Graving Dock at Sydney's Garden Island Dockyard - largest in the Southern Hemisphere.

In mid -1945, H.M.S.ILLUSTRIOUS was in Sydney's Garden Island Graving Dock for repairs after being hit by two Kamikaze suicide bombers off Okinawa.(Thank you internet.) The planes had caused damage deep below the waterline after penetrating her armoured flight deck with their bomb loads. The damage must have been severe, because she had initial repairs in the Phillipines , these repairs in Sydney and then again more repairs at Rosyth when she got home to England.

My Dad  worked at the Dockyard during the War, being unfit for military service due to an eye injury sustained in Newlands Iron Foundry near Central Station where he had commenced work when he was 11 years old (those were the days!). Now, in the declining days of the War, Dad was able to take me into the Dockyard on one of his days off. I have never forgotten the sight of the biggest hole I had EVER seen with a vast Aircraft Carrier sitting high and dry within it!

There are not too many details you recall from age 5, but the name ÏLLUSTRIOUS"was seared on my memory by that truly awesome sight for this little blond haired boy. It is probably there and then that the seeds of my love of ships and the sea were planted.

*JANUARY 1947 - A "CULTURAL ICON" (peeping out!) MANLY BEACH

WITH MY DAD IN PITT STREET,SYDNEY OUTSIDE THE WATER BOARD HEAD OFFICE

 It may seem bizarre, but here I am with my Dad, going to the beach! Yes that was the way we and most others dressed for a casual day out! Did you spot the "Cultural Icon "peeping out? Take a close look at my beach bucket - made in good sturdy tinware - no plastics then. (There was Bakelite - widely used in the ever more popular mantel radios, but it was brittle and far from suitable for any knockabout purposes.) On the bucket you will see the reproduction of the bow of R.M.S. Queen Mary whose image wrapped around the bucket - what more could a boy want! 

"The beach", for us almost invariably meant Manly -"7 Miles from Sydney and 1,000 miles from care!"as the signs inside the stately, steam powered ferries used to say. I loved the trip! The ferries themselves were impressive to me with beach names like "Barrenjoey", "Dee Why", "North Head"and the latest and greatest was "South Steyne"- stories of her sailing out from England ( where else!) were listened to in awe, including the tales of the seating having been burnt when fuel ran low!!These steam ferries had engine rooms that were visible from the passenger decks - looking down onto the tops of the cylinders with glimpses of the great piston rods and the cranks of the driveshaft. Scent of steam, oil, grease, sounds of the engineroom telegraph bell, the hiss of steam and the mechanical throb of the thrusting pistons and turning cranks were all come together most powerfully and enchantingly for this little boy.

As is still the case, nature being what it is, the matter of boarding the ferry was always a changing task as the tides at Circular Quay or at Manly ebbed and flowed. There were pairs of short , simple wooden planks with guard rails on one side only - for the lower or main deck, and very large and heavy steel framed ramps on wheels which the wharfhands moved into place for the Upper Deck.

The scent of the sea water at the Quay was complemented by the salt on the "Smiths Crisps" which were an inevitable complement to the journey.I can taste them now. Calls of "Stand Clear!"and the boarding ramps were withdrawn, the faces of disappointed late arrivers littered the wharf.The engineroom telegraph gave its double ring and gracefully we began to move away as the last of the mooring ropes were being coiled down. Generally we stayed on the Starboard or right side, the better to see the naval vessels at Garden Island Dockyard which is still the largest Naval Dockyard in the Southern Hemisphere, and had and still has, the largest heavy lift crane in the Southern Hemisphere.
As we turned out of Circular Quay and headed East down the Harbour we passed on our right the red brick pile of Fort Macquarie which, its name not withstanding, was a large tram depot.( Someone later had the idea that this would make a fine site for an Opera House....and you know the rest!)

For all my later and continuing interest in the Navy and Naval Vessels, it is a cruel truth that I have no memory at all of the many USN, RAN and even RN ships of all sizes that I must have seen there. However I have a very clear memory of the Hospital Ship "MANUNDA" beautifully white with a green band around her hull and emblazoned with the Red Cross on her sides, passing our ferry on her way back to the war. I can still recall the appalled reaction of my parents when, having heard that "MANUNDA"was her name I, very pleased with my rhyme announced "The "MANUNDA"went under"!.Perhaps it was this audience reaction that led to my disinterest in poetry for very many years.

We swept past the homes of the rich and famous and the next point of interest was the Rose Bay Flying Boat Base - the Flying Boats themselves were sometimes to be seen at their moorings, and joy of joys, very occasionally taking off or landing - quite a show!


A gentle turn to Port (left) around Bradley's Head where I was taught to observe the masthead of HMAS SYDNEY ( I ) and reminded that "the SYDNEY sank the EMDEN"in WW I. No-one mentioned the too-painful mystery of the loss of HMAS SYDNEY ( II ), still unexplained at that time.

Then , by degrees we began to feel the influence of the sea as we ran by the Heads. At times this was almost a non event - a mere tummy tickle, but, at other times the effect could be challenging - everyone looking for a handhold and the occasional person being ill. As the ferry headed some of the heavier waves, water would spray on board , what fun!Sometimes it was necessary to cancel the services due to rough seas.

But "all good things must come to an end"and all too soon we were past the Heads and gliding into Manly wharf.Then we walked off down the Corso past the intriguing string of Milk Bars, Fish and Chip shops etc. etc. to the Promenade which gave onto the beach backed by the tall and pleasant Norfolk Island Pines. Looking up to the right we saw the imposing sandstone bulk of St.Patrick's Seminary. There are several points of departure from this point - but I shall take them up on later occasions.