 
### A Happy Life

by Michael Taylor
Copyright 2018 Michael Taylor

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

Formatting by Caligraphics

# ORIGINS

By 1pm on Saturday 10th October, 1903, the warm waters of the Pacific Ocean had flowed through the mouth of the Bellinger River and slowly made their way twelve miles upstream to the town of Bellingen. It was a good time to be launching a ship.

Horsemen, pedestrians and the occasional vehicle streamed into the sleepy town from all directions to get a view of the newly built, 'Alma Doepel', a magnificent three masted topsail schooner more than 115 feet long. A crowd of 500, almost the entire population, had gathered on the river-bank waiting for the high tide. Then, Carl Doepel's wife would ceremoniously smash a bottle of champagne across her bow, sending the vessel down the wooden skids into the calm waters of the Bellinger River. After more than a year of construction using locally sourced timbers and a full-length keel cut from a tree that had no branches for 100 feet, there was about to be a very public demonstration of Carl's ship-building skills.

Time would clearly show the 'Alma Doepel's grace, resilience and long, productive life – all qualities that would be mirrored by her builder's future grand-daughter, Margaret. But, there was a lot of water to pass under the bridge before then.

Born on the shores of the Bothnian Sea in Kristnestad, Finland, forty-nine years earlier to Carl, a tailor, and Greta, Carl junior was orphaned as a nine year old and destined for a life on the ocean. After spending five years living on a farm and being looked after in return for his labour, his uncle from Sweden, who was a sailor, picked him up and took him to sea.

For many years young Carl served a hard life before the mast, sailing the seven seas before landing in Sydney and deciding to jump ship with a couple of mates. The three men hid themselves until their ship, the classically named, 'Mermaid', cleared Sydney Heads. It was the early 1870's when the trio set out to seek their fortune in the developing colony of New South Wales.

Carl ended up joining a timber cutting gang who were making their way up the coast and eventually found himself in the newly established town of Bellingen, mid-way between Sydney and Brisbane, where he decided to settle in the late 1870's. The Bellinger River, on whose banks the town sat, was named only as a result of a draughtsman's error in reading the final letter as an 'r' and not an 'n' when compiling colony maps from an original document. It was the river that appealed to Carl though, with its access to the ocean and a fledgling marine industry. He was a big, strong young man who wasn't afraid of hard work and soon found himself a job salvaging a shipwrecked sailing vessel near the mouth of the river. He then moved on to building a wharf further upstream at Fernmount before the enterprising Carl decided to go into business for himself.

He was assisted by a friend who had jumped ship with him. Michael Leconnen was also a big, strong Finn and it would be 'Big Mick', as he became known, who would fell the giant tree and cut the keel for the 'Alma Doepel'. Big Mick would work beside Carl for all their working lives before passing away in Sydney at the age of eighty, having never owned property or a home of his own.

Sea-going vessels could not navigate through the Bellinger river mouth, so Carl would load flat bottomed punts with 50 tons of produce and manually pole them twelve miles downriver to meet the vessels. Farmers on the river were desperate for a more reliable means of getting their produce to the market in Sydney and in 1884, with 50,000 bags of maize rotting on the banks at Bellinger Heads Carl found a solution. He turned his biggest punt into an ocean-going craft by removing the bow and stern, adding sections including sideboards and fitted it with a full set of sails. The 97 foot long 'Surprise' continued a regular run to Sydney, much to the delight of the farmers, and so Carl built a second boat called 'The Bellinger', a 98 foot long ketch that would achieve fame as the fastest sailing vessel on the New South Wales Coast, before being wrecked off Queensland's Stradbroke Island in 1892. She was valued at 14,000 pounds, and was uninsured.

In 1898, a third vessel, the 114 ton, two masted topsail schooner, 'Violet Doepel', was especially designed and built for the timber trade with a shallow draft in order to navigate the Bellinger River mouth. Unfortunately, she would take on water in heavy conditions and sink seven years later. Luckily, she didn't catch fire as her cargo at the time included coal, gunpowder and dynamite. The Captain and six crew were saved and this time Carl had her insured for 1200 pounds.

In 1900, Carl and his wife, Mary Anne had a new home built on part of her father, Henry McNally's property. It was described at the time as '...one of the roomiest, most complete and well finished residences in Bellingen with orchard, flower garden, lawns and a tennis court. It still stands today.

Along with his ship building interests the entrepreneurial Finn also operated sawmills, at one time having three in the area between Dorrigo, Thora and East Bellingen. The Dorrigo mill would be destroyed by a bushfire in 1912, and after a slump in the timber industry only the Bellingen mill would remain, but it would be operated by the Doepel family until 1952.

His fourth vessel, the 'Alma Doepel' - named after his newly arrived four month old daughter - would be described by competent shipwrights of the time as one of the best and most faithfully built wooden vessels ever launched on the coast. Their assessment would be proven correct as the majestic square rigger would still be sailing over one hundred years later.

Carl Frederick Doepel – Margaret's paternal Grandfather

As thirty-seven year old Mary Anne Doepel swung the bottle of champagne on that fine Saturday afternoon in 1903 and launched the long and eventful nautical career of her husband's pride and joy, her parents looked on with their own pride.

The 'Alma Doepel' afloat on the Bellinger River

Family legend had it that Irish born Henry McNally went to Sydney in 1864 for a week, from his home in Kempsey, and came back with a thirty year old wife named Rosa. Whether he had met her previously, possibly on the ship from Ireland, or was just a smooth talker who got lucky, the union would result in a daughter, Mary Anne. Before her birth, the couple left Kempsey and walked to the mouth of the Macleay River then headed north along the beach. They were accompanied by a pig, a cow, a hen and a basket of eggs.

The young couple and their menagerie were on the lookout for suitable farming land and, after a sixty mile walk, they discovered the rich, lush valleys around the Bellinger River. Their new home would soon become the town of Bellingen. Mary Anne would be born in 1866, four years before the town was surveyed and allotments were sold and would quite possibly be the first white child born there. The difficulties that beset the early pioneers were formidable but after years of hard work, courage and determined effort, the McNally's had built a home and acquired a considerable amount of property. Henry and Rosa would have five more children and their farm would stay in the family until 1983.

At the launch of the 'Alma Doepel', Henry was a healthy seventy-three year old and would live another eight years. Rosa would pass away four years before him, in 1907. Their eldest daughter, Mary Anne, had married Carl Frederick Doepel in 1886. The married couple sailed to Sydney on board his vessel, 'The Bellinger' for their honeymoon, and then set about producing four sons and five daughters together.

Their second child, born in 1889, was a boy they named Frederick.

As warm champagne dripped from the stem of the 'Alma Doepel', sledgehammers could be heard knocking away the blocks which held the ninety-six ton vessel on the skids. Fourteen year old Frederick watched with excitement as the hull started to move and she slowly slid into the water with the grace of a swan. She ran a fair way across the river before being held up with the attached lines and as her head turned downstream and her full beam was presented to the assembled crowd, a mighty cheer echoed across the water.

The grand occasion was reported in the local newspaper, The Raleigh Sun, the following week – '... _We trust the Alma Doepel will have a long and prosperous career, and if good wishes for her success could be utilised for the purpose, Mr. Doepel could rely upon a full cargo every trip. We want a few more go-ahead men like Mr. Doepel in all the coast districts. Refreshments were liberally provided by the progressive ship owner, and later in the day the young people indulged in dancing with Mr. Hanly supplying good music.'_

The reporter of the day could not have imagined just how long and prosperous the career of the 'Alma Doepel' would be.

She first went to sea two months after launching, under full sail down to Sydney with Carl on board. Her first few trips were spent carrying timber from northern New South Wales across the Tasman to New Zealand. A regular run was then established on the coastal route to Sydney sailing ten trips a year.

The advent of steamships and railways soon made this business uneconomical and, reluctantly, the vessel was sold for two thousand pounds to Henry Jones and Company, jam makers of Tasmania. The year was 1916 and thirteen year old Alma Doepel, after whom the vessel had been named, wrote to Henry Jones asking him to please retain the name. He agreed. For the next twenty-seven years the vessel would ply Bass Strait, setting a speed record of 58 hours in 1937 – the fastest for any vessel over that route. She would also hold speed records for her class of vessel between Australia and New Zealand before being requisitioned by the Army, in 1943, for the war effort. The versatile and resilient schooner would serve with distinction carrying supplies and men between Darwin and New Guinea - once the Army had removed two of her three masts and replaced her single engine with three bus motors.

At war's end the Army converted her back to pre-war configuration and the vessel navigated Bass Strait for another twelve years. In 1959, after safely completing an amazing 578 Bass Strait crossings, she was shamelessly stripped to a bare hull and used as a motor barge around Tasmania until 1975. Her future then looked bleak until two Melbourne men bought the 'Alma Doepel' for the scrap value of her two engines and set about restoring the ship.

The Alma Doepel Supporters Club was founded and lovingly restored the old girl to her former glory. The magnificent tall ship was a sight to behold in January, 1988 as she accompanied some of the world's great sailing vessels into Sydney Harbour to celebrate Bicentenary Day. Carl Frederick Doepel would have been a proud man if he could have been there and would have rejoiced in her new occupation as a youth sail training vessel.

On Sydney Harbour

Ten years later, the 'Alma Doepel' celebrated her 95th birthday in Melbourne. The guest of honour had a very close connection to the vessel's history, and to the fourteen year old Frederick Cecil Doepel who had been cheering so loudly at her launch. The guest was Margaret Bacon and seventy-one years prior, young Frederick would end up being her Dad.

But, there was still a lot of water to flow under that bridge before Margaret came smiling into the world. First of all, Frederick needed to find himself a wife. By the time he was nineteen, his Dad's Bellingen sawmill was cutting 25,000 feet a week of hardwood timbers and employing dozens of local men, and Carl's son was quite the man about town.

Through his ship-building and timber businesses, Carl Frederick had become a prominent businessman in the district. He was also very socially aware and generous as well as being the largest employer in town. For his mill workers who were married he built simple, but sturdy houses for their accommodation, and for the single men, a two storey boarding house. The east end of Bellingen became known as Doepelton and had a butter factory, a bakehouse and even its own sports teams. Carl also built a grand dance hall for social occasions which would eventually be moved in to town and become a landmark in the main street into the 21st century.

Carl took in many of his countrymen, from Finland, who found themselves in the district. Some were elderly and some had returned from the war but all were in need of a home, a job and food.

In 1920, at the age of sixty-seven, he was described in the Lismore Northern Star newspaper as a man '... who has no small opinion of the future of both Dorrigo and Bellingen districts. He launched his new boat, 'The Doepel' last week...a twin screw steamer capable of carrying 150,000 feet of local pine. This is the largest capacity of all boats trading in timber along the coast. Her estimated cost is 22,000 pounds.' It would be the sixth, and final, of Carl's vessels.

Railways were impacting on local shipping businesses all around Australia, and the North Coast rail line would bypass Bellingen. The business owners in town had been lobbying the State Government for many years for a rail connection but the closest it came was Coffs harbour, 35 miles away in 1915, and then Urunga, 13 miles away in 1923.

It wasn't long before Carl found himself focussing more on his sawmilling interests and his sons, including Frederick, were closely involved. That industry was not without its hazards, though. The Bellingen sawmill was located on the riverbank and in 1921 a flood would see 90,000 feet of timber, valued at 4,000 pounds, washed down the river.

There was an emerging holiday settlement nestled between the Bellinger River and the ocean referred to locally as North Beach. Carl, and later his son Harry, would occasionally run excursions there from Bellingen on board a large river lighter, departing at 9am and returning at 10pm. With a band on board it was a very social affair and all money raised from fares and stalls on board went directly to the upkeep of the Bellingen Hospital. Carl would eventually move the boarding house to North Beach and build simple timber holiday shacks there for each of his sons to use when they married. For Frederick, it would be 1925 before he was eligible for a shack after meeting a young Irish woman called Annie Rose Egan, who would eventually become Margaret's mother.

During his many bachelor years before Annie Rose stole his heart, Frederick could be seen cruising around the district in his imported Studebaker Tourer canvas top convertible. He worked hard for this piece of motoring luxury and as a young man showed the enterprise and initiative of his father. The town of Dorrigo was 35 miles from Bellingen, and 2,400 feet above sea level. As well as working in the sawmill, Frederick ran goods between the two towns with a horse team and covered wagon. It was a two day trip and he would stop overnight near a waterfall and sleep under the wagon. On one return trip, in 1918, he was being followed down by another team of horses when they came upon a broken down motor lorry at the 14 mile mark.

There was a steep drop on one side but Frederick negotiated the obstacle safely and continued on his way. The other teamster wasn't so lucky when the bank of the cutting gave way and his whole team, including the wagon, plunged over the edge. Five horses died and three others were injured so badly they had to be destroyed. It was not a journey for the faint-hearted but, luckily, Frederick's bachelor days came to an end at the same time as horse drawn wagons.

Annie Rose Egan had been born in 1899, ten years after Frederick. Her parents, Michael and Polly, both from Ireland, had arrived separately in Australia and only met by chance. Michael was working for NSW Railways when a mate introduced him to his sister, recently arrived on a holiday, and love blossomed. Annie would finish up with two older sisters, a mother who loved real estate and three older brothers who loved sailing which resulted in a long lasting and profitable acquisition.

The brothers had a sailing boat called 'My Polly' and sailing down the Georges River into Botany Bay with their Mum one day in 1902, they stopped for a picnic. Polly noticed a waterfront home for sale. She liked it, and Margaret's future grandmother decided to buy it.

The Egan family in the backyard of Riverside Drive. Margaret's Mum, Rose, in the swing.

Number thirty-four Riverside Drive, Sans Souci, would play an important part in Margaret's life for another eighty years – even though she hadn't been born yet.

Michael and Polly died within six months of each other when Annie Rose was only a teenager and the young girl was sent to a boarding school in Gunnedah, outback NSW, where her cousins were school-teacher nuns. Annie did well at school and achieved her Intermediate Certificate not long after the outbreak of World War One – around the same time that Frederick was negotiating mountain passes with a team of horses.

The war had drained Australia of men and one of the professions to suffer a shortage was school-teaching. As a result, the New South Wales Education Department was looking for suitable female applicants to train as teachers.

Annie Rose applied, was accepted and when qualified she was posted to a school in a NSW country town called (ironically) Frederickton. This small town on the Macleay River was four miles from Kempsey - where the McNally's had settled back in the 1860's. In a stroke of good fortune, the local boarding house where Annie would stay was run by their descendants – and those of Frederick Cecil's.

Frederick's sister, Alma, was visiting her relatives in Kempsey one day and met Annie Rose. Alma was a music teacher who taught piano, violin and singing and Annie was an accomplished singer. It is no surprise that the two women became friends and twenty-seven year old Annie was invited back to Bellingen one school holidays – where she fell for the charms of Frederick, nine years her senior. After a suitable courting period, the Egan family from Ireland and the Doepel family from Finland were united when the two love-birds were married in the Sacred Heart Church, Randwick, in 1926.

The waterfront house on the western shore of Botany Bay that Annie Rose's Mum had bought in 1902 was no longer in the family. When their parents died, the three sisters and three brothers sold the property and while Annie was training to be a school-teacher, her siblings moved to Katoomba, in the Blue Mountains, sixty miles west of Sydney.

Her brothers were builders and they decided to build a boarding house, St. Elmo's, which the two sisters could run. Annie Rose also invested in the enterprise until a couple of years later when the Egan children received a letter from their old neighbour at 34 Riverside Drive. He was the Shire Clerk and informed them that their old family home was back on the market, due to unpaid rates. Whether from emotional attachment or wise planning for the future, the three sisters sold their share in the boarding house to their brothers, and bought back the family home.

Back in Bellingen, the Finnish migrant who had emigrated to Australia as a young man and ultimately created a unique place for himself in this country's maritime history, was retiring. Carl Frederick was seventy-one years old and together with Mary Anne, his wife of nearly forty years, a decision was made to leave the district and move to Sydney. The couple had a garage sale in May 1925, advertising the whole of their valuable household furniture including a drawing room suite in plush and silk tapestry, a dressmaker's model, a violin and a tennis net.

The following month, a valedictory was held for them in the Memorial Hall attended by no less than 250 local citizens. Carl was presented with a gold watch and chain – a chain that sits proudly around Margaret's neck. There were many speakers that night including one who stated, '...the name Doepel has been closely associated with every movement of Bellingen and the district generally and it was only fitting that worthy public acknowledgement of the part they played should be recorded.' Another proclaimed, '...there is no family better respected in the district. Mr. Doepel is a wonderful man and had performed work which many would regard as impossible and the brains of Mr. Doepel could have made more money in an area where greater scope was offered.'

Carl Frederick, resident of forty-five years, major contributor and life member of the Bellingen Hospital and the largest and most generous employer in the town replied in his heavily accented English, " ...you may have me confused with someone else."

The pioneering couple bought a home in Maroubra, a beachside suburb in the east of Sydney, but continued to spend summers at their shack on North Beach.

The Doepel family home, Bellingen

Two years later, on Thursday 7th April, 1927, Frederick Cecil and Annie Rose were overjoyed at the arrival of their first born - a happy and healthy baby daughter, Margaret Mary. She would be a child of Finland, Ireland and Australia, of pioneers, shipbuilders, saw –millers and school-teachers and she would have a life filled with laughter, love, loss...... and a lot of different addresses.

# EAST END HOUSE

In 1927, Australia's population of six million was increased and improved not only by Margaret but also by the birth of future Australian icons, Slim Dusty and Bart Cummings. Margaret was in esteemed company and shared a bond with Slim, given he was born in Kempsey, the home of her paternal grandmother. Also born that year, in Bavaria, was Joseph Ratzinger, who would go on to become Pope Benedict XVI and share a much more important bond with Margaret – that of the Catholic faith. It was a faith that would support and nurture Margaret through her whole life.

Margaret would also have the support of three Uncles and five Aunts on her father's side of the family. And, there were two Aunts and three Uncles on her mother's side – the Egans – who would play an important role in Margaret's future.

About one mile east from the centre of Bellingen, along a straight flat road flanked by fields of corn, was the mill manager's house. It was a squarely built house with verandah's all around and sat among a hub of activity, including the timber mill, a bakery, and a bacon factory. It was in that house, surrounded by all that enterprise in the area known as Doepelton that Margaret would spend the first four years of her life.

To add further to the commercial activity, three months after Margaret was born, a newly erected butter factory in east Bellingen was officially opened by Mrs. McDougall, wife of the Chairman of Directors. There was a large turnout for the occasion and the event was reported in the local Don Dorrigo Gazette, '...so far as the factory itself is concerned, the building and machinery are the last word in up-to-dateness. All that science and human inventiveness have been able to bring to the aid of the dairying industry has been installed and butter will now be manufactured in surroundings that are hygienic as well as conducive to the comfort of employees. We congratulate the Bellinger River folk upon their enterprise in establishing such a modern factory.'

Maize crops had been a staple crop of the area for decades, and the prize winning cobs at the 1927 Bellinger River Agricultural Society Exhibition had averaged an impressive size of fifteen inches long with a six inch circumference. But, dairy farming was booming in the Bellinger Valley and the industry's needs were being met by the construction of new factories. Unfortunately, Margaret's birth had heralded the arrival of a six month dry spell with old-timers in the district saying it was the driest for fifty years. Paddocks were bare and brown, fodder crops were exhausted and farmers were having to purchase feed for their hungry stock.

Good rain finally fell in October and the Bellingen Butter and Bacon factory reported an output for the month of 41,000 pounds of butter and 52,000 pounds of pork. The district's good fortunes were represented by the report of a local motor dealer who had sold forty-five new cars and trucks in a six month period, including four Buicks, seven Pontiacs and twenty-one Chevrolets. Frederick's Studebaker Tourer was getting some serious competition in town.

Margaret's Dad had taken over the operations of the Bellinger sawmill with his brothers once their father had retired. His specialty was to inspect the logs and determine how they should be cut to yield the most amount of useable timber. He would carefully assess each one and make chalk-marks to guide the cutters. One of his largest fallen trees delivered to the sawmill was from a property near Thora which contained an amazing 25,000 feet of splendid quality hardwood. Carl was a regular visitor from his home in Sydney to see family and check on the mill and many of them believed he was not adjusting well to life in the city.

In December, 1928, eighteen month old Margaret was joined in the family by a baby sister, Patricia. Fred and Rose's second child would not be their last. For the next twelve years the Doepel family would continue to grow with three more sisters for Margaret and four brothers. There would be a fifth brother, born in Sydney in 1932 who would die at five weeks old – an early case of cot death. Frederick was working in Bellingen at the time and never saw his first born son.

Whenever Rose was in Sydney she would stay with her two older sisters in their Sans Souci home on Riverside Drive, Botany Bay. Alphonse and Maisie had been living there ever since buying back the family home, along with Rose, and leaving the Katoomba guest-house.

Neither had married, both having seen their sweethearts head off to the horrors of World War One, never to return.

Baby Margaret testing the waters of Botany Bay with her Mum.

Meanwhile, back in Bellingen, two year old Margaret was growing up and enjoying all the town had to offer. Across the street from their house was the wood-fired bakery, run by Mr. And Mrs. Ross and she was as enthralled by the warm smell of freshly baked bread as much as she was by the long whiskers poking defiantly from Mrs. Ross's chin. Her tentative wanderings would take her past the bakery and the unique smells and sounds of the butter and bacon factory. The sawmill was forbidden for young girls, though, despite being close-by it was far too dangerous.

Margaret clearly remembers one day in late July having lunch with her Grandfather, Carl, who was on one of his regular visits. After lunch, Carl took his young grand-daughter by the hand and wandered over to an adjoining paddock where there was an old horse munching on the grass. He had brought a piece of bread and carefully placed it in Margaret's tiny hand, showing her how to feed the horse without losing any fingers in the process. It is a valuable memory to have because Margaret would never see her Grandfather again.

Possibly that same afternoon, seventy-five year old Carl had strolled over to the sawmill where his two sons, Frederick and Harry, along with other members of the staff were busily engaged in operations. While some of the men were preparing a plank of timber to be cut, Carl was seen to stagger, and fall towards the saw. Before anything could be done, he had sustained a mortal injury and died almost immediately.

Charles Frederick Doepel had survived a difficult childhood as an orphan and dangerous years at sea to lead a full life of timber cutting, shipbuilding and successful business. He had been credited with saving the town of Bellingen through his cargo carrying vessels and ensured the continuation of the Doepel name through his four sons and an extensive family through his five daughters. His loving wife of forty-three years, Mary Ann, would remain in Bellingen until her death in 1953, at age eighty-seven. She would regularly visit family in Sydney over the years, having first visited the city by ship on her honeymoon. As time went on she would make the journey by train, then car, and finally by plane.

The decade that followed the end of World War One had been one of prosperity and growth for most western industrialised countries, including Australia. In late October, 1929, that was about to change with an event that would signal the beginning of twelve long years spent in economic darkness. Over a two day period, the American Stock Market effectively crashed. On what became known as 'Black Tuesday' there was mass panic with sixteen million shares being traded, although many stocks had no buyers at any price. By the end of that day, the market had lost a staggering USD$30 billion in forty-eight hours.

The misery soon spread worldwide and began a period known as the Great Depression. Australia would not escape its effects, suffering years of high unemployment, poverty, low economic growth and the associated personal hardships. Falling export demand on major industries such as wool, wheat and coal resulted in a domino effect that few Australians would be immune from.

For three year old Margaret, living in an idyllic town on the banks of a beautiful river, the Great Depression was a non-event. She has no recollection of any hardship, food shortages or having to go without. Life just was what it was, and for her it was always happy. For Rose and Fred, though, the economic effects of the Depression did finally reach their home town.

Although the Doepel sawmill continued to operate, demand for hardwood timber had decreased to the point where Fred was looking for alternatives in order to support his family. Bullockies would regularly knock on Fred's front door with a load of freshly cut logs outside, looking to sell for whatever price they could get, but the building industry had slowed to a crawl.

The Doepel estate had a farm selection just out of town that needed to be worked in order to retain ownership. The property straddled the road that led to an area called The Promised land, so called by early pioneers because of its lush, rolling pastures and clear mountain waterfalls. It was a land ideally suited to dairy farming and the growing of produce – a self sufficient oasis of calm in a country that was struggling to employ and feed its population. It would prove to be a fortuitous move for the Doepel's – Rose, Fred, Margaret, Patricia and Philomena, born in 1930.

# THE FARM

When they first moved to the farm there were already two men living there. Billy was an old Finnish man who slept in the dairy and Soldier, a returned soldier from World War One. Carl Doepel had allowed the men to live there as they had nowhere else to go. Soldier was an Englishman and he slept in the galley which was separate from the main house, in case of fire.

Fred started a milking herd and between the morning and afternoon milking he would ride his horse the five miles into the sawmill and work there all day. Eventually, both the elderly Finn and Soldier moved on, but Fred still needed help around the farm during the day – especially to keep the encroaching bushland at bay, so he employed two young lads whose fathers had worked at the sawmill.

The farm supplied nearly everything the family needed during those lean times. They had plenty of milk, cream and butter, thanks to the herd, and there was always pork and bacon on the table. Fred would sell any excess cream to buy meat and there was always a side of well smoked bacon hanging behind the kitchen door.

Despite life continuing as reasonably normal, the spectre of economic depression constantly loomed. A number of agricultural societies in New South Wales had decided in 1931 that due to The Depression, they would be abandoning their show fixtures that year. Bellingen, however, was not among them and was determined not to let 'Old Man Depression' put them down.

It was during this time that Rose went to Sydney to give birth to their first son, which resulted in a tragic loss. She must have felt like she was living in a permanent state of pregnancy for this period in her life because four months after losing her child, she fell pregnant again. In March, 1933, Rose gave birth to a son, Gregory and the three girls finally had a brother. Margaret had started correspondence school, but would eventually attend the same historic Bellingen school-house as her father, aunts and uncles – some of whom were making news.

Uncle Harry was on the Board of Directors at the Bellingen Hospital and was in the local paper reporting on patient numbers for the month of May – thirty-seven males and thirty-one females had been treated with two males and three females, unfortunately, dying.

Uncle Eric was in the news after discovering his ornamental aeroplane radiator cap had been stolen from his Studebaker. This was on the same night a Willy's Whippet motor car was stolen from outside the picture theatre in the main street of the usually crime-free Bellingen. Locals put it down to the Depression.

And Margaret's talented Aunt, thirty year old Alma whose namesake sailing ship was still sailing back and forth across Bass Strait and who was responsible for introducing Fred and Rose, was also in the newspaper. The NSW regional Muswellbrook Chronicle proudly reported her performances as a soprano soloist and first violin in the orchestra playing at the local Musical Society Concert. She was also gaining a reputation as a winning player in the local tennis competition – no doubt helped by her childhood home having a tennis court attached.

What seemed inconsequential at the time but would become a decisive moment in Margaret's life happened one Sunday in 1934, after church. The parish priest, Dean Hennessy, approached Fred with a request. It seemed there was a nice young fellow in town who had, by no fault of his own, fallen down on his luck. This amenable young man had come to town some time ago to work for the local stock and station agent. Unfortunately, the agent had died and with the onset of The Depression, the business had folded. Eddie had been boarding with the Field family in town, but could no longer afford the rent. Father Hennessy wondered if Fred might be able to provide board and lodging for Eddie, in return for his labour.

As it turned out, the timing was perfect. The two young boys who had been helping on the Doepel farm had moved on and the bush, aided by the rich soil and the ideal climate, was growing so quickly it could be seen moving. The land had to be constantly brushed, manually with a brush hook, and the stock needed to be looked after so Eddie found himself with a new home – living in a room at the back of the house.

Edward Arthur Bacon was an educated English gentleman and he needed to be in order to gain entry to Australia. As a young man, he was given assisted passage to emigrate as part of the Big Brother Movement – established in 1927. The basis of the movement was a set of conditions that would attract a better class of boy to Australia -a boy who had been brought up in a better class of home and who had, up to the moment, not been induced to leave Britain in any numbers.

The critical factor limiting youth migration was understandably the natural reluctance of parents to permit the migration of their sons so far from the British Isles when they were so young and inexperienced. The 'Big Brother' provision was intended to respond to parents fears. Its basic idea was simple enough: each youth emigrating would be given an adult person in Australia who would provide encouragement, advice and support during the young migrant's early adjustment period in the new country.

The Big Brothers were usually recruited from service organisations such as the Royal Agricultural Societies, Rotary, the RSL and the Chambers of Commerce. They were usually city business and professional men and of the same religion as the 'Little Brother' whom they promised to assist.

The 'Little Brother' was intended to be a physically fit, upright, clean cut, well mannered British young man who was determined to work hard on the land in Australia. His application to Australia House was to be accompanied by references as to ability and character from his school, a minister of his church and another leading citizen.

Before sailing to Australia, the 'Little Brother' signed a statement containing the following undertakings:

• to follow the advice of his 'Big Brother'

• not to leave the employer to whom he was allotted without his 'Big Bother's permission

• not to drink spirits or gamble

• to open an account at a Savings Bank and save at least half his wages

• to write to his parents and to 'Big Brother' at least once a month

These conditions, voluntarily accepted, enshrined middle-class virtues of sobriety, thrift and respect for social superiors and were intended to appeal to middle class parents, although the conditions were not legally binding. Between 1926 and 1929, 1,515 'Little Brothers' were brought to Australia and the single women of Australia rejoiced.

Born in 1909, Eddie would turn out to be an ideal candidate for the scheme with a Jesuit education and a military family background. His father had been an Infantry Sergeant-Major in the Lancaster Regiment and saw service in the Boer War of 1899 – 1902. Eddie's parents met in India and, as a true child of the military, Eddie was born in the Lancaster Regiment Barracks Infirmary. To add credence to his application, his Uncle Arthur, whose name Eddie took, was a Governor of the Bank of England.

Eddie's Mum, Rachel, was the daughter of a Colonel – a Beefeater no less. The Yeoman Warders were the ceremonial guardians of the Tower of London, responsible for looking after any prisoners and safeguarding the Crown Jewels. Rachel had been born in the Tower.

From a breeding and educational perspective it didn't get much better than that and young Eddie Bacon was accepted by the Big Brother Movement and set sail for Australia on 20th April, 1926. He was passenger number 14566, a junior clerk ten days into his 17th year when he boarded the 550' long migrant ship, Largs Bay, with his eighteen year old brother, Cyril and 708 other third class passengers. They had left their home at 57 Osborne Road, Levenshulme, Manchester leaving behind their Mum, two sisters, Evelyn and Maude and three brothers, Herbert, Frank and Raymond.

The separation of the family would continue with Evelyn marrying an Irishman, Maude marrying later in life and the youngest, Raymond, joining the priesthood. Herbert was a shell-shocked returned soldier from World War One who remained living with his Mum. Frank also took the trip to Australia before chasing his true love, Katie, to Canada before taking her back to England and marrying her.

The ship that brought Eddie Bacon to Australia.

Eddie had always wanted to be a farmer and he had kept rabbits and other pets as a child. His Dad had died when Eddie was a seven year old but he had no inclination to follow a military career. Australia was a land of opportunity with plenty of farming land and this young man was keen to be a part of it. The fresh-faced Englishman arrived in Sydney on Monday, 31st May, 1926, to be welcomed by his 'Big Brother' family the Dwyers and, still chasing his dream of being a farmer, found himself in Bellingen a few years later.

Despite being a fulltime mother, Rose was a qualified school teacher and immediately recognised Eddie's intellect and good manners. His movie star looks didn't do him any harm either and he was often compared to a young Bing Crosby (although only six years younger).

With four young children and Fred away all day, Rose appreciated the intelligent conversation and class the twenty-four year old brought to the house.

Shortly after Eddie moved in with the Doepels, Margaret celebrated her seventh birthday. Being a Saturday, Rose invited Eddie to join the family, now with five year old Pat, three year old Phil and their one year old brother, Greg for afternoon tea and a birthday cake.

It was at this modest family celebration that Eddie told Margaret the startling news that the 7th April was also his birthday.

Whether it was childhood innocence or astounding foresight, Margaret replied,

" Well, we will have to get married, won't we?"

Whether Eddie shared a similar foresight or was simply being his amenable self, he responded with,

I'll wait for you."

Fred and Rose became very fond of Eddie and treated him as a member of the family. They would attend Mass together on Sundays, travelling in Fred's beloved Studebaker Tourer and continue on for Sunday drives with Eddie sitting in the back seat singing Gene Autry songs.

For the next couple of years Fred continued his long days between the sawmill and the dairy herd, while Eddie continued to work for his board and keep doing his best to keep the encroaching bush at bay.

# THE TOWN HOUSE

In 1936, it became clear to Margaret's Dad that things needed to change and when his brother, Harry, offered him a job in town, he decided to take it. Their Mum, Mary Ann, had moved back into the Doepel home after Carl's death and was being supported by her sons. She celebrated her 70th birthday that year and had a surprise party at the holiday shack on North Beach where she was presented with a pair of crystal glass rose bowls. But, Mary Ann had been used to a life of reasonable standards and her boys struggled to maintain her as they worked through the lean years of The Depression. Her youngest son, thirty-one year old Eric, finally married that year and began a family of his own.

Older brother, Harry owned a garage in town and had a contract to cart fuel but was too busy to do it himself so Fred became a truck driver. The Doepel family moved into the last house on the main street of town, next to the dance hall built by Carl, that still stands today.

For nine year old Margaret, living in town meant attending Primary School. Another brother, Terrence, had been born and, for the tireless Rose, the next five years would see four more children added to the family – giving Margaret eight younger siblings by the time she was a teenager.

Before Margaret and her ever increasing family moved in to town, Eddie had left the farm and started a paid job as a wardsman at the Bellingen hospital, moving back in with the Field family. One of the two doctors in town, Doctor Ewart, was a keen horticulturist and had started populating the hospital gardens with exotic trees. Eddie was also a keen gardener and helped the Doctor whenever he could. The doctor was well known in horticultural circles and was of the belief that Eddie's skills were too valuable to be wasted as a hospital wardsman. Through his contacts in Sydney, Doctor Ewart secured Eddie a job with Yates Seed Company in Sydney which led to Eddie leaving Bellingen.

Attending school wasn't the only change for Margaret. Moving to the house in town meant an almost endless supply of town water – no more relying on the weather – and the wonder and convenience of electricity. There were electric lights in every room, two power points in the kitchen and one in the lounge-room for the all important radio.

The Depression was still dragging on and money was tight in the Doepel household, but Margaret never felt poor, in fact quite the opposite. The Doepels were well regarded in Bellingen as were the Egans on her Mother's side. The two families represented a major part of the Bellingen history from settlement through to business involvement and the establishment of the hospital. The sawmill was still in business but was quiet enough for Fred to also work for Harry, while Rose had her hands full in a house bursting with children.

Margaret's Primary School was sandwiched between the convent and the church and had few trees in the playground. It faced the town park, though, which had magnificent shady trees of banyan and camphor laurel so that is where Margaret and her friends would spend their playtime.

After a quick run home for lunch there would be time for a game of 'jacks' under the trees, using marbles instead of knuckle bones – due to the lack of sheep in the area.

The climate in northern NSW was not conducive to sheep farming – too much moisture in the ground led to footrot. Those who enjoyed a good lamb roast, like Margaret's Mum, usually had to go without due to a lack of refrigeration. The Dorrigo butcher would occasionally bring some lamb down to Bellingen on the back of an unrefrigerated truck, which made a change from the staples of beef and pork, but it was a rare treat.

Another advantage of living in town was that Margaret had a lot more friends to play with. Uncle Harry had a big family so there were cousins of a similar age as well as the kids from school – although there was a divide between the students of the Catholic School and the Public School. This was a division in every town and city and given there had been a separation of the two since the sixteenth century, it had become an accepted part of life that wasn't going to change anytime soon.

In Bellingen, it simply meant the Catholic folks socialised among themselves, although after school in summer the river was full of kids laughing and playing together, regardless of their faith. Margaret, her parents and even her grandparents had always been devoted water people who loved a swim whether it was in the river or the ocean. When Margaret's brother, Greg, was young she took it upon herself to teach him how to swim. He was a blonde, fair skinned boy, six years her junior and when Margaret was sure he had the hang of it, she encouraged him to jump off the diving board into the enclosed river baths, where she was treading water. Which he did.

Unfortunately, young Greg didn't quite have the hang of it and panicked, grabbing onto Margaret around her neck and holding her underwater in an attempt to keep his own head above it. After being submerged many times and gasping for air, Margaret let out a cry for help. Her two sisters, Pat and Phil also yelled out and luckily there was a man sitting on the riverbank reading a newspaper who heard them calling. He immediately went to the water's edge, removed his shoes, waded out to the stricken couple and dragged them into shallow water. What could have been a family disaster was averted and Margaret and her brother decided not to tell their parents of the incident. They never saw their rescuer again. Being the oldest child, Margaret would eventually teach all her siblings how to swim, ride bikes and climb trees and that day was the closest she ever came to having a bad accident.

On weekends, she would lead a group of children on adventures like Peter Pan on his way to Never Never Land, the fictional island of J.M Barrie's famous story. And she even had her own island – well, almost. There was a large section of land jutting into the river covered in thick rainforest and maidenhair fern with a huge moreton bay fig tree that was perfect for climbing. The kids would scamper up its thick branches and feast on a treat of lemons mixed with vinegar and salt they had brought from home or slyly share a cigarette, although it was never enticing enough for Margaret to become a regular smoker.

The gang would make swings out of heavy vines and launch themselves between trees like Tarzan, or over the water and let go at just the right moment. Once they had enough of the island, there was always the grounds of the butter factory to explore or the sawmill, closed on weekends, where the crane hook made for a good swing. Trudging wearily home at the end of the day, Margaret and a few others would always find the energy to drag out a couple of long skipping ropes onto the side street, where cars were as rare as a comet, and exhaust themselves before dinner time and bed, where they would fall asleep to the sound of a howling dingo.

During the summer school holidays, the whole family would spend time at their shack on North Beach, built by Margaret's grandfather. The two storey boarding house had been moved there from the mill for his own use and other business people had holiday houses too, some grander than others. The main attraction was the ninety miles of unpatrolled beach where the whole family would swim every day. The start of every summer would see Margaret getting sunburned, followed by blisters before tanning up, and the effects of those years are still being felt by her, eighty years later. A safe area of ocean would be identified by Margaret's grandmother, Mary Ann. The open, exposed stretch of water could be treacherous but her many years of local knowledge ensured trouble-free swimming. The same couldn't be said for everybody however.

Uncle Harry's eldest son, eighteen year old Jack, was swimming at North Beach on the afternoon of 27th December, 1938 with two friends. A twenty year old from Dorrigo, Stanley Braham, who was known to Jack, also went into the water. Unfortunately, Stanley was a non-swimmer and soon got into difficulties in the heavy surf and strong undercurrents. Despite efforts by the other young men in the water, Stanley disappeared beneath the waves and was never seen again. Margaret remembers walking up and down the beach for with others for a week, looking for his body that was never found.

It was always a large family gathering at the North Beach shacks over Christmas, including aunts, uncles and cousins from Sydney and other parts of the state. All the children looked forward to putting on a concert for the adults each year – charging sixpence for a ticket. One of the young cousins from Sydney, Bobby, played the ukulele and Margaret will never forget the time he played and sang 'My Bonnie Lies Over The Ocean'....'my bonnie lies over the sea'...which turned out to be an unfortunate, but humorous choice for a boy with a pronounced lisp.

She also recalls the time her skinny brother, Greg, sang 'Popeye The Sailor Man', flexing his non-existent muscles as he sang. He brought the house down. There was a piano in Grandma Doepel's house and Margaret's Mum, Rose, would lead sing-alongs around the piano being played by Fred's young sister, Alma.

Margaret began a new school year in 1939, about to turn twelve years old. The church continued to play an important part in her childhood, not just religiously, but socially as well. She was able to walk everywhere in Bellingen to attend church or any functions with no concern for her safety-almost. Running home from Benediction in the dark one night, Margaret had a head on collision – with a cow. There was some damage to Margaret's pride, and no damage to the cow.

The only time young Margaret felt a need for anything in her childhood was the time the nuns from the convent invited her on a picnic. The school had some boarding students and on public holidays they would be taken on a picnic, along with a few selected local students their own age. Margaret had only three outfits – her school uniform, a shirt and raggedy pair of shorts to play in, and her good Mass dress. Rose decided the school uniform was the only option so off

Margaret went, slightly embarrassed, only to be sent home by the nuns with instructions to wear something more suitable. Out came the good Mass dress with firm instructions from Rose to not get it dirty – or else. She had a very subdued picnic.

Over the preceding few years, Eddie Bacon had kept in touch with the Doepel family, and occasionally visited. He had been a popular young man in the town and had plenty of friends to catch up with having spent a few years living there. His gardening career had progressed to the stage where he was employed to develop a golf course in the NSW town of Bathurst, which is where he was until that fateful day in September.

On Sunday night, 3rd September, just after 9pm, the Doepel family, like so many other Australian families, gathered around the radio in their lounge-room. They listened quietly as the Prime Minister, Robert Menzies gave a very controlled and sombre speech beginning with, " Fellow Australians, it is my melancholy duty to inform you officially that, in consequence of the persistence of Germany in her invasion of Poland, Great Britain has declared war upon her, and that, as a result, Australia is also at war."

Eddie joined up immediately and, after training at Singleton, visited Bellingen on his final leave before being deployed overseas. Twelve year old Margaret said good-bye and would not see him again for nearly six years.

Eddie, shortly after enlisting

As the war began, Margaret moved on to her high school years. The convent school taught from first grade up to the third year of high school. The secondary students were taught in a glassed enclosure at the end of the school verandah under the tutelage of one teacher. Their numbers were not high as most teenagers left school around the age of fourteen.

There were predictable shortages as the war progressed – in food, clothing and manpower. School uniforms were hard to come by so there was a lot of sewing done by the Doepel girls. There was a farm plot on a flat area of the river-front near town that had been planted with potatoes for the war effort. During one summer school holidays the crop was ready to be picked but there was a distinct lack of manpower in town. Margaret and her gang spent six weeks picking potatoes and filling bags that were as big as the kids themselves for two shillings a bag. The farm out of town where Margaret had spent her young years had been left unattended and uncared for and was slowly but surely being overtaken by the bush.

There were still mandarins to be found on the trees after a long walk, though, and Margaret would make the trek for the taste of fresh fruit. Many years later, the house would burn to the ground in a bushfire and the forest would reclaim the property.

During Rose's pregnancies and often after the birth, the family would make the trip to Sydney and stay with Rose's sisters at Sans Souci. These periods away could sometimes last up to a month, while Fred remained working in Bellingen. Margaret remembers her mother as being the disciplinarian of the family, and her dad being the easy-going one with a well developed sense of humour. But she also remembers their love for each other and their children and the wonderful childhood she had under their care.

The war years continued into Margaret's early teenage years and sleepy Bellingen seemed blissfully untouched. Eddie Bacon's experience, however, was not going as quietly.

Thirty year old Eddie had been shipped to North Africa. He was soon selected for Officer Training and completed his course at the Middle East Training School before landing in Italy.

His officer status had not yet been ratified when he found himself out of ammunition one day and separated from his unit while fighting in Greece. So, it was as Private NX19586 when Eddie found himself at the wrong end of a German rifle with its owner telling him, " Englander, your war is over."

The transit camp at Salonika, in northern Greece would be remembered by all who passed through it for its starvation diet, filthy conditions and heavy labour. In 1941, Eddie was one of the first fifty men to arrive at the camp, whose numbers would soon increase by the thousands. Their daily ration consisted of one weevil ridden Greek Army biscuit and a dish of horse flesh soup which tasted so foul and resulted in so many cases of vomiting that many existed on just the biscuit. Dysentery ran rife in the camp and there would be scores of deaths resulting from malnutrition and starvation.

Eddie's weight dropped from 11 stone (70 kg) to 6 stone (38 kg) but prisoners were forced to work ten hour days loading timber onto trucks and drays and then haul them through town. On one day, Eddie was so hungry he gave two cigarettes to a German guard in exchange for a newly hatched swallow, which he promptly ate. He saw a fellow prisoner exchange an expensive gold wrist-watch for a loaf of bread. The prisoner was so hungry he wolfed down the whole lot and that night his stomach burst and he died. Some prisoners were envious.

As the camp became overcrowded, 2000 men were herded into railway wagons for a trip north to Wolfsberg, Austria, home to Stalag XVIII-A. Eddie was one of them but his relief at escaping the appalling conditions was short-lived. Each man was given a ration of ½ tin of German Bully Beef and a Greek Army biscuit. It was the only food provided for an horrific journey that would last five days and six nights.

There were fifty men to a wagon with one small barred window at each end. No water was supplied. There was no disembarking for the whole trip which at times had the men sitting motionless at railway sidings, the hot summer sun beating onto the metal roof. Sanitation was non-existent and the men, most suffering with dysentery, would have to wallow and swelter among the filth and stench. And yet, there was comradeship, camaraderie and a common spirit that carried them through. On the second day of the trip, some of the men had managed to force open the heavy double doors a few inches to provide a small amount of fresh air for their mates. Once the German guards noticed, they opened up with their machine guns, killing two prisoners whose bodies remained in the wagon for the rest of the journey.

The food in Stalag XVIII-A was a great improvement. There was a loaf of black bread issued to every fifteen men and a cup of mint tea. At night there would be a ladle of potato soup which sometimes included the added flavour of a piece of horse flesh.

The men were also de-loused which provided great relief, but after six weeks, having been assigned the POW number 5756, Eddie and 200 other men were moved out of the camp and transported in railway trucks to a new camp in the district of Mallnitz. Six months later, a typhus epidemic would sweep through Stalag XVIII-A, killing many prisoners. On the day they left, the men were issued with their first Red Cross parcel and fifty Gold Flake cigarettes. They would not receive another parcel for six months.

The new camp had much improved accommodation for the men, but the working conditions and food supplies were, at times, inhumane. Their work consisted of stone-breaking, loading skips with stone and other labouring jobs consistent with the making of roads and was carried out regardless of season, weather or terrain. It was during this time that Eddie was exposed to two unpleasant German customs. The first was the German dish of sauerkraut – cabbage fermented by bacteria with a distinctively sour taste – that became the staple diet of the men in the camp. Occasionally, the repetitious meal would be relieved by the serving of a few boiled potatoes. The other German habit Eddie came to hate with as much intensity was their method of discipline known as collective punishment.

Any slight misdemeanour was an excuse for the Commandant to punish the entire camp. It usually took the form of a cut in their already meagre rations, withholding of Red Cross parcels or the beating of an unfortunate individual. On one occasion, work was abandoned due to a snow blizzard but when the men arrived back at camp the Commandant refused to let them in, instead making them march up and down a mountainside for four hours. The reason for the punishment was because one man had not made up his bunk that morning.

There was no Medical Officer attached to the camp and Eddie contracted a skin disease on his chest and shoulders. The condition became so severe, three inches of his collarbone was exposed and yet he was still forced to work every day. Eventually, he was treated by the village doctor, but he would carry the scars from that disease for the rest of his life.

After surviving for eighteen months, Eddie was sent to another camp to work in the construction of a canal. Sometimes the temperature could be well below zero, but the men were still forced to work.

While at that camp, Eddie was punished with one week of solitary confinement. It was winter and he was given one piece of bread and one cup of water each day. After that experience, Eddie decided that, in future, whenever he was tempted to tell the Commandant how he really felt about the Germans, he would hold his tongue.

Eddie's final move was to the Austrian city of Graz and, along with twelve other men, he was assigned to work in a Child Welfare home. This provided many opportunities to steal food and he took advantage of every one, which helped him to survive. His accommodation was in an evacuated school, which would have been alright except it was right next to the railway marshalling yards which were a constant target for Allied bombers.

Eddie had become fluent in German and his ability to befriend strangers along with his positive attitude and infectious personality no doubt helped him in being chosen for this final stage of his capture. That he survived at all is truly remarkable. The camp at Mallnitz became known as a 'Death Camp'. In 1945 the War Crimes Commission would hear reports of 150 prisoners who were beaten, executed or starved to death there.

Eddie was resourceful enough and lucky enough to endure the privations and horrors that were his constant companions for four years. He was an English gentleman and all he had wanted was a simple life in Australia with a farm and a loving wife. Perhaps the prospect of both those still being possible is what helped him through those dark years.

Eddie, left, being able to enjoy a game of chess in the final stage of his life as a POW

# 34 RIVERSIDE DRIVE

Around the same time that Eddie was being captured and beginning to lose faith in his fellow man, Margaret's faith was growing and developing – within the Catholic Church. By the age of fourteen she had been through First Communion and was about to strengthen her belief by taking part in the Catholic Sacrament of Confirmation. This would complete her initiation into the Catholic community and establish her as a fully fledged member of the faith.

Margaret enjoyed the protocols and rituals associated with the church and the Parish Priest, Dean Hennessy, set a fine example. Mass would be said in Latin in front of a highly decorated altar and the priest would wear full vestments for every important religious celebration – purple for Lent, white for Easter and green for other occasions. Church was a family affair as both the Egans and Doepels had always been staunch Catholics as well as being keen swimmers so it is no wonder Margaret spent so much of her childhood in the water. For many other children in town the water in the bath was as adventurous as they would get. Margaret's Aunts would regularly swim in the ocean in their 'beach pyjamas' under the watchful eye of Grandma Doepel, as would her Mum and Dad.

As the war progressed, Rose made the decision to move to Sydney. Aged in her early forties and with her child bearing days finally over, Margaret's Mum planned to return to school-teaching. Just as she had done in World War One as a young woman, Rose would answer the call again and fill the many gaps left by men marching off to war. Although still qualified, it had been more than twenty years since she had stood in a classroom, so there was a period of re-training to be done.

Rose, fifteen year old Margaret and her eight younger siblings all boarded the train and headed for Fonce and Maisie's home at Sans Souci. For as long as Margaret could remember she had been making trips to her Aunts at number thirty-four Riverside Drive. Until 1939, it had been number thirty-four Cook Park as there was no road in between the house and Botany Bay – just a tramline. The trolley bus that replaced the tram ran from the street behind the house, so the tram lines were pulled up and a paved road put in their place – which became Riverside Drive.

It was a large house with expansive views directly over the waters of the famous bay and while Rose was doing a probationary term as a school-teacher, Margaret briefly returned to school herself and gained the Intermediate Certificate. Not surprisingly, Rose requested a posting to Bellingen on completion of her training and it was granted.

Once back in their home-town, Margaret was in a position where both her parents were working full-time. As the oldest child, the responsibility fell on her young shoulders to manage the home and look after her four sisters and four brothers. This situation continued for a year until it became necessary for the boys to expand their educational options and, once again, the family returned to Riverside Drive. Due to his work commitments, Fred would not follow for another year but he would regularly take the train down to visit and he and Rose wrote to each other every week like a couple of newly-weds.

Margaret's dad had spent almost his entire life in Bellingen – more than fifty years – living within a population of a few thousand people. He was about to join 1.5 million people, in Sydney.

Luckily, Fred had always been an adaptable man and he soon found work in the city, spending an hour each way on a trolley bus and a train to travel to his job. The sprawling house at Sans Souci was now home to thirteen members of the Doepel and Egan families. Aunties Fonce and Maisie Egan took in their sister, Annie Rose, her husband Fred and their nine children. Four boys shared one room, four sisters another, while Margaret slept in the lounge-room.

Aunt Maisie was a dressmaker and had her own business, just a few miles away, in the suburb of Rockdale. Fonce was able to look after the young ones, so sixteen year old Margaret returned to school and completed her secondary education. St Vincent's College is one of Australia's oldest Catholic girls schools, founded by the Sisters of Charity in 1858. It is located in Potts Point, an inner city suburb of Sydney and it would be here that Margaret would achieve her Leaving Certificate. Each school day for two years she would spend thirty minutes on a trolley bus and thirty minutes on a train into the city. Then, there would be another trolley bus to Kings Cross before walking down Victoria Street to the College, and then repeating the journey to get home.

In 1945, as a newly graduated eighteen year old, Margaret found a job working in the office at the long established department store, Farmer & Co. in the city and continued with a long commute. One particular day that year will be forever in Margaret's memory, for a number of reasons – Wednesday, August 15th. Around 10 am that morning, Margaret was busily working when news came through that Japan had officially surrendered to the Allies, effectively putting an end to the six long years of World War Two.

Farmer & Co. decided to close their doors to celebrate and gave all their staff the rest of the day off – on double pay. Margaret remembers receiving a five pound note which was the first time she had owned one. The whole city was in a mood of frenzied festivity – a spontaneous party of singing, dancing, hugging and kissing and normal inhibitions being momentarily forgotten in a mass demonstration of relief and triumph. And Margaret was there. Torn up paper had been thrown from office building windows in a premature ticker tape parade as soldiers, sailors and civilians waded through it, sharing the joy.

A picture that would become famous around the world was taken in Elizabeth Street of one man dancing that epitomised the mood of the day. Caught in that moment of time are two women, glancing back and smiling. He would become known as 'The Dancing Man' but the two women were not identified. Could one of them have been Margaret?

As the festivities cooled down, reality began to hit home. Nearly one million Australians had answered the call and served their country during the war. Most survived but many would never recover from their experience. Twenty seven thousand soldiers, sailors and airmen would not return home to their families. Over the six years of conflict, 30,000 men were captured and kept captive as prisoners of war and only 22,000 would survive their ordeal. Eddie Bacon was one of the survivors but his journey home would be a long one.

The city of Graz had been evacuated following Germany's surrender on May 7th and Eddie became one of 2000 prisoners in the area who would march nearly two hundred miles to the city of Salzburg, Mozart's birthplace, and a base for American troops. The trek would take over a month, sleeping in the open, often in the snow line as they crossed mountain ranges of 10,000 feet. Their food supplies were minimal and it was only the knowledge that the war was over that kept them going. Eddie remembered passing the carcass of a horse at one stage of the journey. Well before the last of the line had passed by, the horse had been completely stripped of its flesh.

Eddie would eventually be repatriated to England, to a small town he knew little of. In one of those extraordinary quirks of fate he was standing on a bridge one night having a cigarette when he noticed another man doing the same. The two got talking and it didn't take long before Eddie realised he was talking to his young brother, Raymond. He had followed his dream of becoming a Jesuit priest and told Eddie the good news that their Mum, Rachel, was still alive. Reunited for the first time since Eddie had left England as a seventeen year old and spending years not knowing if he was even alive, Rachel was overjoyed. The two spent valuable time together before Eddie was able to board a ship and return to his chosen country and to his destiny.

He hoped that destiny would involve farming and he was pinning his hopes on being allocated rural land through the Soldiers Settlement Scheme. The NSW Government had introduced the Returned Soldiers Settlement Act in 1916, to help those men, and women, returning from World War One to live a life off the land. Forty thousand returned soldiers took up the offer but many encountered difficulties due to their unsuitability, drought and falling prices for agricultural produce. By 1929, more than a quarter had left their blocks behind and returned to the cities.

The Scheme was reintroduced following the end of World War Two. Applicants were required to place a tender with the Department of Lands with successful applications being decided by ballot. The land was available on affordable terms and the settlers could also receive advances of money to make improvements or buy equipment. The Scheme was more successful the second time around due to better choice of land and a booming economy helping the price of produce.

By the time Eddie arrived back in Australia, Margaret had left her job at Farmer & Co. and had begun work as an apprentice milliner in the fashionable, three storey Strand Arcade in the city.

It would have come as a very pleasant surprise for him to see the young woman Margaret had grown in to since leaving her behind as a twelve year old girl. Their age difference did not seem so apparent now as it had been then and Eddie soon re-acquainted himself with the Doepel family, especially Margaret. He would pick her up from the milliner's shop in the city and take her to lunch during the week and on weekends they would go to the movies.

They became good friends but following one lunch date, Eddie kissed Margaret goodbye and it definitely was not as a friend. Things had changed. Eddie's desire to work on the land took precedence though, and he returned to the Bathurst area where he had worked before the war, to gain experience on a sheep farm.

After spending twelve months as an apprentice milliner, Margaret attended a St. Vincent's College reunion. The nuns were mortified when they heard of Margaret's chosen profession and considered her current vocation to be a serious waste of talent. They immediately offered her a position on their staff as an untrained teacher for the young children in grades one and two. The seventeen students were the younger sisters of the older boarding girls and Margaret's subjects would be the necessary staples of education – reading, writing and arithmetic.

Whether Margaret may have gone on to a successful career as a dressmaker and fashion designer will never be known. But, her natural ability as a teacher soon became evident, helped in no small part by her childhood as the eldest of nine children and her own educational experience through correspondence and in a classroom. Margaret was well educated, well suited and well liked so her new career began.

There was, however, the long and tedious journey to be endured twice a day in returning to her old school. During one school holidays, Margaret saw a job advertisement for a teacher at a Catholic Primary School at South Hurstville. The school was also run by the Sisters of Charity and the nun in charge, Sister Perpetua, had been one of Margaret's teachers at St. Vincent's. This connection was a piece of good fortune and Margaret was soon employed at the school which was only a five mile bicycle ride from her home at Riverside Drive. Her students were once again in grade two but this was a bigger class with a more formal structure. Adding to the challenge was having to teach in the same room as two other teachers with their own classes – although they each had their own blackboard.

By this time, Eddie had proven the adage that absence makes the heart grow fonder and returned to Sydney and to Margaret. He remained unsuccessful in his bid for a soldier's settlement block and had little experience in anything other than rural work so a job was proving difficult to find. Ironically, his work experience as a prisoner of war helped him find work on a new pipeline being built from Warragamba dam, forty miles west of Sydney. The workers would camp in tents during their working week, which could be easily moved as the pipeline progressed. On weekends they would clamber onto the back of trucks for a return to the city.

Around this time Margaret had become involved with the local Catholic Youth Organisation and became President. Eddie joined as well, and the pair of them would organise dances and tennis matches on Saturdays. On Sundays there would be picnics to the National Park or the Nepean River where they would hire boats and go rowing. As well as being a great social outing it also served as a courtship period for Eddie and Margaret.

It was on the long Easter weekend of 1947 that Eddie approached Fred and Rose while they were in the laundry at Riverside Drive, plucking chickens for the Easter meal. He very nervously and politely asked Fred for Margaret's hand in marriage. Fred and Rose had known Eddie for many years and had always liked him and they were happy to welcome him into the family.

They still had reservations about Margaret's young age, though, so they agreed the two could become engaged but for twelve months there would be no public announcement and no ring – in case Margaret changed her mind.

Twelve months later, there was a public announcement and Margaret wore a ring.

Fred, Rose and the nine Doepel children following Margaret's engagement announcement

The sisters at South Hurstville were not quite so supportive and once they found out about Margaret's engagement and upcoming wedding they suggested there was no point starting a new year if she was unable to finish it.

The feisty young Margaret saw no point in being unemployed, even for part of a year, so she temporarily turned her back on school teaching and found a job in a plastics factory in nearby Rockdale – making brush and comb sets alongside the other factory girls.

As it was going to be impractical for the newly-weds to live in the lounge-room at Riverside Drive, a new home needed to be found. Luckily, there was an adjoining block to the house, which the sisters also owned, so Eddie and Margaret set about building a little house on the allotment, which would become known as 'the little house.' Eddie had little building expertise and building materials were hard to come by and, as a result, the wedding had to be constantly postponed as construction continued to take longer than expected. There would be three postponements before the two roomed dwelling was, almost, finished and that was only due to the help of one of Eddie's friends from the pipeline job who was a carpenter.

The two had become good friends and carpenter Ben would attend the wedding. He would take along a wedding present of a heart-shaped jewellery box made from a 100 year old cedar tree that had been cut down during the pipeline construction. The jewellery box would sit on Margaret's dressing table for the next sixty years before being handed on at her grand-daughters own wedding.

On a Saturday afternoon in July, 1948, at St. Finbars Catholic Church on The Promenade at Sans Souci, Frederick Cecil Doepel escorted his daughter, Margaret to the altar where Father Mullen officiated. Standing there was Eddie Bacon with a smile on his face. He had remained true to his word for fourteen years and had indeed waited for Margaret.

Margaret had three bridesmaids – sisters Patricia and Philomena and cousin, Mary Egan. Her two younger sisters, nine year old Mary and eight year old Josephine were flower girls, and while the register was being signed, Aunt Alma Doepel sang 'Ave Maria.'

The bridal party – Eddies best man and groomsmen were all cousins of Margaret – J.Byrnes, E. Bleakley and M. Egan

The happy couple – destined to marry after first meeting 14 years earlier.

Following the ceremony, a reception was held for 100 guests under a large marquee that was erected in the back garden at 34 Riverside Drive.

The next day, twenty-one year old Margaret had her first flight in an aeroplane as they headed north to Brisbane for a honeymoon. The couple took in all the sights of the Queensland city, including a trip to an undeveloped Surfers Paradise before returning to Sydney on a coach.

While they had been away, one of Rose's brothers had lined and wall-papered their small bedroom to make it more homely so all Eddie and Margaret had to do was buy some crockery and furniture and begin their married life together.

# THE LITTLE HOUSE

Their two roomed home with an adjoining lean-to bathroom was classed as a temporary dwelling and if they had a cat they could not have swung it without causing considerable damage. The bedroom was just big enough for a bed and a chest of drawers and Margaret shared the laundry with Maisie and Fonce in the big house. But, it was home and a major improvement from living in a lounge-room.

As a result of his pipeline work, Eddie had found a job at the head office of the NSW Water Board in the city. His education and intellect had been recognised and rewarded with a clerical role as a paymaster. As a result, Margaret took on the role of housewife which was new to her but there was no point in returning to work if there was the possibility of falling pregnant.

Due to their diligence and enthusiasm it only took four months for that to happen.

Margaret, shortly after moving into the 'little house'

Fred and Rose had also decided it was time to move out of 34 Riverside Drive and began constructing their own three bedroom home on the same large block as Margaret and Eddie's. They still had five children attending school, getting older and needing their own space. After years of generously sharing their home, Maisie and Fonce had it to themselves once more.

In August, 1949, Margaret and Eddie began their own family with the birth of their daughter, Anne, and a prouder father could not have been found in all of Sydney. Eddie would rush home from work each day to take his baby daughter for a walk in her pram and show her off to anyone he could find. As a first grandchild, Anne also received plenty of attention from Fred and Rose as well as her four uncles, four aunts, two great aunts and a doting mother so there was an abundance of love filling the 'little house.'

Soon after Anne's first birthday, Eddie bought a car. Not just any old car, but an Austin A40 Tourer soft top convertible he ordered from England. After a few months the car was finally delivered and was promptly named Liz – due to her number plate being LZ-083. An auto tent was bought along with a couple of li-lo mattresses and the intrepid couple set out to make the most of Eddie's three weeks of holidays a year.

On one trip the young family had ventured to the Snowy Mountains in the Kosciuszko National Park. Construction had begun the previous year of what would eventually be sixteen dams, seven power stations and 140 miles of tunnels and pipelines. The project would take twenty-five years to complete and employ 100,000 men from thirty different countries in that time, with 121 losing their lives on the job.

While sleeping in their tent, they were woken one morning by the sound of a nearby car that was having trouble starting. Eddie went out to help and soon realised the car owner was from Germany. Having become fluent in the language as a prisoner of war, he was able to have a conversation in German as well as helping to get the car started. That night there was a thunderstorm and the driver, Hans, returned to offer shelter in his cabin for Eddie, Margaret and two year old Anne.

Hans also had a wife, Gretel and a four year old daughter, Ushi. He had been a plumber in Germany and was working on the Snowy Mountains Scheme. The two families became lifelong friends after Eddie helped Hans with his Australian plumber's qualification and was typical of how easily Eddie made friends. Ushi is now in her seventies and still sends Margaret a Christmas card every year.

Eddie and Liz in the Snowy Mountains

Earlier, Eddie had also befriended an Italian named Luigi who had a wife and two children in Italy. Due to his poor English, Luigi was having trouble arranging their emigration so Eddie helped him with the application papers and did such a good job the whole family was able to attend Margaret and Eddie's wedding.

The little Austin would take the family on trips all through NSW, from Bathurst to Parkes, Dubbo and dozens of towns in between – sometimes visiting the farm properties that Eddie had applied for through the ballot. It would also take Maisie and Fonce to Mass on Sundays in return for babysitting duties when Eddie and Margaret had a night out.

As Anne got older she outgrew her cot and there wasn't any spare room for another bed so the 'little house' was becoming too little. Eddie was still hoping to be successful with a Soldiers Settlement ballot, but he had been waiting a long time and was starting to lose hope. At one stage there was a farm available on remote Flinders Island in Bass Strait. Margaret was so confident she bought a new overcoat in preparation, but it never eventuated. Instead, the couple decided to buy a block of land at nearby Taren Point.

The plan was to build a bigger house, but development was increasing in the area and it was leaning towards industrial. The block they had bought for two hundred pounds was facing this new industrial area so they sold it for a good profit and bought a block in the newly developing residential Sutherland Shire at Gymea, sixteen miles south of the city. The block of land measured 200 feet by sixty feet and would give Eddie plenty of room to exercise his green thumbs.

The house would take twelve months to build and as completion came nearer, the 'little house' was put on the market as a removal. Their first home together sold immediately and was removed before their new one was ready so Eddie, Margaret and Anne were temporarily homeless.

When Margaret was an eighteen year old and involved with the Catholic Youth Organisation, her sister, Patricia, also attended the social outings. It was there that she met her future husband, Ted Kenny, and it was Pat and Ted who offered accommodation to the Bacon family. Pat had just given birth to a son, so Margaret was able to pass on her cot and bassinet as Anne was now almost six years old. It would become known in the family as the 'red hot cot' as it was swapped many times back and forth between the sisters as their respective families grew.

Lifelong friends – Hans, Gretel and Ushi

# 9 FIRST AVENUE, GYMEA

The year was 1955 and the average annual wage for a clerk in Sydney was 450 pounds. A new house would cost nearly ten times that amount but at least a loaf of bread was only the equivalent of eighteen cents. Anne had started school at Sans Souci where her grandmother, Rose was still teaching and Eddie had started work on his garden which was a bare canvas.

He would begin in the back yard with a variety of exotic fruit trees – Santa Rosa plums and Lisbon lemons from California, peaches, persimmons ( Latin for 'food of the gods') and oranges. He would make expeditions into the bush to forage for sandstone to build garden edging for his roses and would plant gum trees, liquid ambers, lemon scented gums and silky oaks – all growing successfully. Some mornings, Eddie would quietly get out of bed at 5am and spend an hour in the garden before climbing back in next to his slowly awakening wife. Then they would both get up and spend time together in their backyard. He would plant vegetables, build a chicken coop and host countless family get-togethers around his sandstone barbeque.

Margaret enjoyed the time at home but was an independent woman at heart and suggested to Eddie that if she had a job they could afford to tile the bathroom with real tiles instead of fake masonite ones. Being a traditionalist, and this was the 1950's after all, Eddie only reluctantly agreed. When Margaret found a job with the Census department of the government, he became more agreeable as it was the public service.

The two rarely disagreed or argued, never carried a grudge and were always quick to make up. On one of those rare occasions, when Margaret was becoming quite vocal, Eddie suggested she quieten down or the neighbours would hear her. Margaret promptly marched outside and yelled out, "...are you listening neighbours, the Bacons are having a row!"

Luckily, they had made friends with their neighbours, a young English couple named Laurie and Win. The Ward family, headed by Jack, an old Army mate of Eddie's had also moved closeby.

Margaret's job enabled them to not only get a tiled bathroom but also carpet in the lounge and hallway. Her Census duties were for a limited time but her income had proven very useful so Margaret applied for another job - with the Sutherland Shire Council - and was employed in the council library. It involved some work on Saturday mornings and while she was away, Eddie would polish the kitchen floor and vacuum the carpets. They shared all the tasks at home – not just in the garden – and for a man of those times it was very unusual. But Eddie was not a usual man and that is why Margaret loved him and married him.

Margaret and eight year old Anne in their growing garden at First Avenue, Gymea.

The family still went touring in their beloved 'Liz' but as Anne got older she began to tire of the long car journeys. On one trip she refused to get back in the car and marched off down the road. When her dad asked her where she was going she simply replied, "...to Grandma's house.", which was 500 miles away. There would be other memorable holidays, though. As a nine year old, Anne and her parents took a ship from Sydney to Tasmania, where the 'Alma Doepel' was completing her last year of Bass Strait crossings. They returned via Adelaide and then caught a train to Sydney, via Broken Hill. Another trip away as a family was in a caravan to Queensland – adding valuable memories to a happy childhood. At home, Anne would sit on her Dad's knee after dinner as he smoked his pipe and watched the news on their black and white television.

Eddie's mum had died before he married Margaret and his dad had died when Eddie was a seven year old, so it is no wonder his own family was so important to him. He still corresponded with his sister, Maud, and occasionally with his brothers but was devoted to Margaret and his daughter, Anne. He had been patiently and happily trying to grow his family and the couple's passion for each other was finally rewarded at the beginning of 1960, when Margaret fell pregnant.

It was not fashionable or encouraged for pregnant women to work at the time, so in April, after four years with the library, Margaret finished working, focussed on being pregnant and reclaimed the 'red hot cot' from her sister, Pat.

Kate's christening

Six months later, Eddie and Margaret's second daughter, Catherine (Kate), arrived in the world at the aptly named St. Margaret's Hospital and eleven year old Anne had a baby sister.

Eddie was still working for the Water Board in the city and had an hour long commute each way. At the end of each working day, Anne would carefully tuck young Kate into her pram and walk her up the street to the bus stop to meet their Dad and walk home with him.

When Kate was only four months old, the Bacon family rented a holiday house at Culburra Beach, just over 100 miles south of Sydney. Surrounded by the sparkling waters of the southern Pacific Ocean on one side and Curleys Bay on the other, it was an ideal destination for the water loving family. Fred and Rose made the drive down to visit as did most of Margaret's many siblings. It was a wonderful family time and Eddie liked the location so much that when he spied a vacant block of land for sale, he wanted to buy it and build a holiday house.

Thursday nights at First Avenue were set aside for Margaret to attend the local Tech College where she was taking dressmaking lessons with her neighbour, Win. Her twelve months as an apprentice milliner nearly half a lifetime ago had given her a taste for design and she was keen to develop it further. By the time she returned home on this particular Thursday, Eddie had put the girls to bed and was waiting up for her, as usual.

The next morning Margaret woke up knowing, as only a woman can. She nudged Eddie awake and whispered to him, "I think we made a baby last night." He replied, not knowing as only men can't, "We will have to wait and see." Time would prove Margaret's intuition correct but what Margaret couldn't know was how the unpredictability of life, the fickle hand of fate and the cruel winds of misfortune would all combine to affect her life that very day.

It was Friday 9th June,1961, and a long weekend was ahead thanks to the Queen having a birthday. Anne was excited at the prospect of having her dad home for three days when they could head to the beach and go on a picnic in the National Park. Instead of catching the bus that morning, Margaret drove Eddie to the Gymea train station as Anne had an early piano lesson. With baby Kate safely strapped in, the four of them took the five minute drive together.

At the station, Eddie kissed his wife and daughters goodbye and walked up the steps to the entrance where he stopped, turned around and waved good-bye.

That evening, Anne pushed Kate along in the pram to meet their dad at the bus stop, as usual. As the bus pulled away from the stop, Anne realised that her dad had not been on board. She was only two months away from her twelfth birthday and although a quiet child she was mature enough to not panic and calmly waited for the next bus. When Eddie didn't arrive on that one, a feeling of unease came upon her and she hurried home to tell her mum.

Margaret was surprised as it was uncommon for Eddie not to stick to his routine but there was no telephone in the house so there was no way for him to call them about a change of plans. Mother and daughter both tried to appear unworried, but they both were. While Anne fed Kate, Margaret went out into the rainy night and found a public telephone where her first call was to her parents at Sans Souci. She then called the railways to see if there had been any delays and, as a last resort, the hospitals and police.

No-one had any news about delayed trains or missing husbands so Margaret drove by the train station, just in case, and then returned home to share a quiet dinner with Anne. Soon after, there was a knock at the door and Margaret opened it to see her neighbour, Win, standing next to a policeman.

Not much was said. Margaret knew why they were there. She sat down heavily in a lounge chair, put Anne on her knee and quietly prayed...

'O sacred heart of Jesus I place my trust in thee, whatever may befall me, Lord, though dark the hour may be; in all my woes, in all my joys, though nought but grief I see, O sacred heart of Jesus I place my trust in thee. When those I love have passed away, and I am sore distressed, O sacred heart of Jesus, I fly to thee for rest...'

It was a prayer that Anne would never forget.

The rest of the evening passed by in a painful blur for Margaret. Fred and Rose arrived along with two of Margaret's sisters, and later, Jack Ward came by for support. Anne remembers going into the kitchen some time later to clear the table and still recalls the colour of the tablecloth. She then did the hardest thing for an eleven year old girl – clearing away her dad's unused dinner place, knowing she would never be setting it for him again.

The report finally came out that Eddie had been feeling unwell at work that day. He had boarded the wrong train in the city to go home and disembarked only two stations later. He sat down on a bench in the Redfern station and slumped over as his heart gave way.

Margaret was thirty-four years old with an eleven year old daughter and a nine month old baby. And, she was pregnant.

Eddie had been a part of Margaret's life for twenty-seven years. What started out as infatuation matured into true love and now, she was lost. Fortunately, the support of her close family and the love for her children helped Margaret push through what would be the lowest point of her life as it moved from shock to anger, then sadness and eventually, acceptance.

The funeral service at St. Catherine's Catholic Church on Gymea Bay Road was attended by a huge crowd – befitting a man who had made friends so easily and so often through his whole life. There were mourners from Eddie and Margaret's church, from his workplace at the Water Board and from Margaret's large and extended family.

The RSL took charge of the burial and Eddie was laid to rest in a flag draped coffin in a war grave in Woronora Memorial Park, Sutherland. Margaret delayed the headstone inscription for nine months because, although not yet confirmed, she trusted her woman's intuition and wanted Eddie's third child to have its name alongside the rest of his family.

There was a hole in Margaret's life, where Eddie used to be. She walked around it in the daytime and fell into it at night because every night Eddie would tell her before sleep, " God bless you, angels guard you and remember always darling that I love you."

Margaret was making the bed a couple of months later, now definitely pregnant, and thought she could just lie down and cry for a week. But, if she did the only result would be a dreadful headache and upset kids - and Eddie would still have died. Motherhood was now her anchor and that, combined with Margaret's strong character, held her life in place.

Christmas, 1961, was always going to be a difficult time so Margaret, Anne and fifteen month old Kate stayed with Fred and Rose at Sans Souci. Margaret's Dad was only seventy-two and Rose a sprightly sixty-two and most of their children had finally left home, so there was plenty of room for a pregnant mother and her two children.

On Tuesday, 20th February, 1962, Margaret checked in to hospital – sure her time was near. Remarkably, there were no beds available, even for a woman about to give birth so she had to wait – but her body had different ideas. Finally, the nurses found a vacant bed around nine pm, tucked Margaret into it, turned the light off and left.

Five minutes later, Margaret had given birth to a very impatient son who had no intentions of waiting for assistance from the nurses to bring him into the world. By the time Margaret was able to summon them, baby Edward Bacon was wriggling about, crying his eyes out and probably wondering what the heck was going on. In one of those life moments that young Edward had no control over but would stay with him the rest of his life, young sister Kate had trouble saying Edward and found Woody to be much easier. And so, Woody he became.

As if the emotional and physical loss wasn't hard enough to bear, Margaret had also lost the main bread-winner of the family. From a practical perspective, she was now a single mother of three, with a mortgage and no job. Anne had moved on to high school, but with a two year old and a baby at home, going out to work was not an option.

Then, Margaret's teaching experience came to the notice of the staff at Anne's convent school. Realising a valuable resource was sitting at home in need of an income, they enlisted Margaret to help their heavy workload by marking student's essays – from home. So, Margaret found herself on most days sitting in her lush back garden, in the shade of the trees that Eddie had planted, correcting essays. Woody was content, sleeping in his pram and young Kate was happy to run around and play while her mum worked.

Two year old Kate, following in her Mum's footsteps on the beach

When Woody was around two years old, his Auntie Pat and Uncle Ted returned from a holiday at Culburra Beach and suggested to Margaret they should invest in a holiday block. It was an easy sell – Margaret and Eddie had come close to buying their own block at the picturesque seaside hideaway four years previously. The idea took off like a wildfire among Margaret's extended family so Margaret, her brother, Greg, and brother-in-law, Ted took a drive down one weekend to find a suitable vacant block.

The land needed to be of a size big enough to eventually build a substantial holiday home and be close to the beach so the ever growing tribe of kids could walk there safely. In 1964, that tribe already numbered nine children between Margaret, her sister Pat and brother, Greg. By 1970, her sister, Phil, would add another four and before the end of that decade the other siblings would contribute an incredible twenty children between them. By the time Woody was fifteen, he and his sisters would have thirty cousins.

It was a little like winding the clock back forty years to North Beach, and the Doepel's holiday shacks at the mouth of the Bellinger River where Margaret enjoyed many happy family summers. For Culburra Beach, the siblings all contributed twenty pounds, as did Fred and Rose, to become equal partners in what would be a thirty-eight year investment in similar family memories.

Initially, it was a camping site as there was no building on the block. With the help of one of Margaret's brothers-in-law, the first structure was an outside toilet, before a framework went up followed in stages by a roof and some outside walls. The interior was unlined and the two bedrooms were packed with noisy children and patient parents. As the tribe grew, the families would take it in turns to spend weekends at the shack or all bunk in together during school holidays, chatting like magpies and laughing like kookaburras well into the night. Over time, the shack turned into a home.

The neighbours became good friends and there would be many social occasions with the ladies playing scrabble while the men played poker and the kids were doing whatever it is that kids do on holidays. In the evenings there would be table tennis games, barbeques and dancing on top of the septic tank which became a dance floor. How Eddie would have loved it.

Culburra, before and after

By the time Woody started at pre-school, Kate was also at school and Margaret was in a position to take on some more work. When Sister Benedicta from Anne's school offered her a fulltime position as a teacher she enthusiastically threw herself into it. For the next couple of years, Margaret would teach English, Mathematics, Book-keeping, History and Geography to 1st, 2nd and 3rd year students. The pay of $30 a week was about half that of State School teachers, so to supplement her income Margaret would correct exam papers during school holidays.

But, by having a teaching job, it meant that Margaret could be home for her three kids during those seemingly endless school breaks. When she had been working at the library, Fred and Rose were able to look after Anne during the holidays, but now that her family had grown and her parents were older, it was no longer an option.

Despite having worked as a school-teacher for many years, Margaret was unqualified. Her valuable Leaving Certificate had helped her with employment in the Catholic Schools, but to join the State School system and be rewarded accordingly, she would need to be qualified. Tired of the increasing workload and poor remuneration, forty year old Margaret decided to apply for Teachers College.

Mature aged students were not common in the late 1960's, but Margaret would always have a go at something if she thought it worthwhile. It was a character trait that would be passed onto her children.

She marched in to the Education Department, stated her intentions and the clerk looked up her details from twenty-two years prior, to see if she did indeed qualify. Happily, her marks were good enough, so the friendly clerk put Margaret down for a scholarship and told her to wait by her letterbox.

Woody and Kate, 1967

The good news arrived a short time later, telling Margaret she had been admitted to Wollongong Teachers College. The bad news was that it was thirty-seven miles away. Undeterred, Margaret presented herself at the College to find that classes had begun a week earlier, and Principal McGrath had no idea she was enrolled. He was a little miffed that his authority had been bypassed and sternly told Margaret to report back at nine am Monday morning. Which she did.

There was not a huge intake in 1967 for universities or colleges as it was the first year that secondary school had been pushed out to six years, so there were no high school graduates. This meant that, by Margaret's description, the class was a mixed bunch of male and female odd-bods.

Among the intake were several males in their early twenties who had given up a banking job or a university degree, a woman in her thirties and to Margaret's great surprise – a female student who was older than she was. Peggy Matthews was forty-three and had always wanted to be a teacher. She lived next door to the college with her husband who was dying of cancer and he wanted Peg to secure a career for herself while he was still alive.

The two women would become friends almost immediately and Peg would play a big part in Margaret's life for the next forty years.

The drive from Gymea to Wollongong would get to the stage where Margaret could do it with her eyes closed – although, thankfully, she never tried. For two years she would make the trek up and down the Princes Highway battling bushfires and smoke in summer and pea-soup fog in winter. Some of the Sydney students would stay locally during the week and Margaret would pick a few up in her car on the way down on a Monday morning and take them back on a Friday afternoon.

Without the help of her parents, though, it may not have been possible. While Anne was old enough to get herself to her final year of high school, Woody was just starting his education and Kate was only seven years old. Margaret's days were extremely long so she would drop her two youngest at Fred and Rose's place on a Sunday night and pick them up on the Friday night after sharing a fish and chips dinner with her parents. Her Uncle Clete had recently died and left Margaret $1300 and that inheritance played a big part in her ability to study full-time.

The Teachers College sat in the shadow of the imposing Mt. Keira and had only been established for five years. In 1974 it would change its name to the more impressive Wollongong Institute of Education, before being absorbed by the University of Wollongong eight years later.

Margaret had more than a head-start on her fellow students at the college. Having worked for years as a teacher already, she was almost at the finish line before the rest of them had left the blocks. But, the all important Teachers Certificate was the goal and Margaret remained focussed on it as she accumulated her frequent driving miles. The trainees had to choose a science subject and an arts subject and Margaret chose geology and drama. The latter choice would see her performing a Patrick White play in front of 500 people at the Wollongong Town Hall.

During their training an option became available to spend a month teaching in Papua New Guinea. Both Margaret and her good friend Peg decided to accept the challenge, even though it required them to pay their own way. It would prove to be a memorable time for the two teachers and they both left with an appreciation for the country and the helpful, happy, colourful, always singing locals.

A good example of their helpfulness happened one afternoon after Margaret and Peg returned from a swim at a local beach. They were being billeted at PNG's own teacher's college, and the two women decided to have a quick shower before dinner. Soon after entering the shower cubicle, Margaret realised she had forgotten her soap and called out for Peggy to pass her some. Soon after, her soap was passed over the door on the end of a large, hairy, black arm. Surprised, but undeterred, Margaret accepted the offering without a word. Later that evening she was more surprised when the same large, hairy, black arm passed her the salt at the dinner table and she realised it was connected to the local Bishop.

The graduation ceremony was held on Thursday, 12th December, 1968 at the Wollongong Town Hall. After two years of study, Margaret was officially a qualified school-teacher, just like her Mum.

Wollongong Teachers College

After a brief posting at a school to fill a position for an absent teacher, Margaret finished up at Miranda North Primary School on The Boulevarde, which was a handy ten minute drive from First Avenue. She would have three years at the school spending her week days not only as a teacher but as a counsellor and confidante, a psychic and psychologist, a decorator and a dietician. Because that is what school teachers do. Bringing up three children of her own had given Margaret plenty of first-hand experience, and she would play similar roles as a mother on the weekends.

In 1955, when Margaret and Eddie were having their house built at First Avenue, they would drive there of an evening to see how construction was progressing. The young couple were excited about moving in and on one visit were disappointed to see a week's progress had resulted in nothing but a hills-hoist pole being cemented into the ground. To finally have their own real home, with plenty of room and a backyard was a memorable time of their life together. The backyard had played witness to young children playing and laughing, Christmas parties, birthday parties, cracker nights, noisy family barbeques, and quiet gardening times side by side with Eddie.

Seventeen years later, the family home needed some serious maintenance and spare time for the garden was becoming hard to come by for Margaret. With a full-time teaching job and Kate heading for high school, her thoughts turned to a change of address, and one that would require less upkeep.

Her eldest child, Anne, had left high school and begun studies at university by the time Margaret began teaching at Miranda. Anne was aiming to be a third generation school teacher and had met a good looking young chap called Bill, at a school dance when she was a sixteen year old.

That high school romance would blossom into a relationship and then a marriage that would last a lifetime and produce seven grand-children for Margaret. Uncle Ted, Patricia's husband who had been a pillar of strength and support for the family when Eddie died, would proudly walk Anne down the aisle in 1972.

Margaret remembered heading to the beach at Cronulla one day with the kids in her trusty Volkswagen Beetle. Woody was only five years old at the time and he said to his mother, "...if ever I would leave you it wouldn't be in the summertime because you take us to the beach."

Normally, that would be quite an original and profound statement for a five year old to make, but Woody had stolen it. Margaret had quite a liking for the music from 'Camelot' at the time and regularly played the LP on their home record player. Sir Lancelot had sung the line to his beloved Queen Guinevere in the musical, although to give Woody some credit, he did make up the line about the beach.

They had always been a beach-loving family, and while Margaret's initial thoughts were to move back to Sans Souci to be near her parents and Patricia and Ted, Kate and Woody were keen to be closer to the surf. Margaret had changed schools and was teaching at South Cronulla, so the popular beach-side suburb, sixteen miles south of the city seemed like a good idea.

# 62 KURNELL ROAD, CRONULLA

In December, 1972, Margaret was manning a polling booth at Miranda High School for the Federal Election. It would result in Labor's Gough Whitlam becoming Australia's 21st Prime Minister after booting out William McMahon who had only been in the job for just over a year. It ended twenty-three years of Coalition Government and marked the beginning of Margaret's time living in Cronulla.

Cronulla, 'place of the pink seashells' in the dialect of the area's first Aboriginal inhabitants would become home for Margaret for the next twenty years.

She had found a three bedroom unit in a newly built block of six within walking distance of the beach. The unit would cost her $30,000 and would turn a handsome profit when sold in 1992 for $190,000. Today, it is valued close to one million dollars.

There was no garden to maintain, though, and ten year old Woody and twelve year old Kate could walk to the long stretches of white sand, the warm clear waters and the ice-cream shops of Cronulla Beach. They were all owner-occupied units and Margaret had continued her life-long habit of living in a new, non-rented home.

While the lack of maintenance was a welcome aspect of unit living, having no backyard was a limiting one, especially for teenagers.

Kurnell Road, Cronulla

There was only one other family living in the units, the remainder occupied by older couples or childless people. Some of the residents didn't understand the boundless energy and lack of noise restraint that teenagers, usually boys, carry as a natural condition.

Margaret was well aware of it though, and sacrificed her single car garage to convert the space into a rumpus room. Woody and his mates no longer had to bustle up and down the stairs to the unit a dozen times a day talking loudly to each other with the casual indifference of youth. They had a space of their own to hang out in and store their surfboards – when they weren't hanging out at the beach. There were occasional differences of opinion between Margaret and other residents regarding children's behaviour, but she was a formidable opponent and did not suffer fools.

Kate, meanwhile, was making her way through the minefield that was a Sydney beachside suburb in the 1970's. Teenage girls usually had their dad as a mine detector, but sadly she had never known hers.

Fortunately, she had plenty of loving and caring uncles, especially Ted. These men, along with her aunts, gave true meaning to the African proverb, 'It takes a village to raise a child.' In the times when Margaret could be uncompromising, Kate's extended family was always there to talk to and support her and without them growing up may have been more difficult.

Margaret was a single mother who, by this time, had been raising her three children alone for twelve years. She also worked full-time as a school teacher which was more than a full-time job. It is no wonder that Kate remembers her mum having a bad headache every Saturday morning. It was as if the stress of the whole week had been stored away because there was no time, and then allowed to release and overwhelm once the working week was over. Kate would take her mum a cup of tea in bed and wait quietly for it to pass.

Margaret was still good friends with Peggy, from Teachers College, and in 1974, they decided to go on a holiday together, which would be the first of many. It would be so memorable, it would forever be known as 'The Trip.'

On Boxing Day, the two women, along with Woody and Kate, set out from Sydney on a coach to explore Australia. There were actually two coaches, with forty-five passengers in each, and they would all be camping out. The company was privately owned by a man named Duncan, and the itinerary was flexible, but the first destination was Adelaide, via Murray River country. From there they headed north to Alice Springs, climbing Uluru and sleeping in their two man tents. There was another teenage boy and girl on the trip, so Peggy and Margaret shared a tent while the two boys and two girls shared in their own tent. All the passengers pitched in to help prepare meals, cook and clean up.

From Central Australia the coaches tackled the unforgiving Gunbarrel Highway. This was a desert track spanning South Australia, Northern Territory and Western Australia consisting of washaways, stone, sand, flood plains and the dreaded heavy corrugations. It had been constructed in the 1950's through the Gibson Desert in preparation for the Woomera weapons research establishment, and had not been improved upon since.

After five days in the desert with no other signs of human civilisation, they had to be totally self sufficient and Margaret found herself longing to be in a less barren place like... the moon. There were no showers or toilets, only constant heat, enthusiastic mosquitoes and a desire for small luxuries like a pool of muddy water or a flat concrete floor and a smooth stone for a pillow.

They eventually arrived in Warburton, at the centre of a very large and very isolated Aboriginal reserve before making their way further west to the mining camp of Laverton, 1600 kilometres from Alice Springs. The coaches drove quietly into the camp at 4am and the passengers, especially the women, were delighted to discover hot and cold running water in the showers. They were making good use of them when a siren sounded very loudly. It was the wake-up call for the miners who all made their way to the showers for an unexpected, but rather pleasant, surprise. After much scurrying and many apologies the intrepid travellers headed south to the civilised comforts of the gold-mining town, Kalgoorlie. Further south to Esperance, on the coast and west to Albany, and the dusty coaches finally arrived safely among the traffic and crowds of Perth.

They were still a long way from home. Ahead of them was the mind-numbing journey across the Nullarbor, before arriving back in Sydney, via Canberra. While stopped over there, Margaret and the kids caught up with Anne who was living in the capital with Bill and just about to deliver Margaret her first grandchild. It had been a magnificent adventure for the four of them through parts of Australia that few people had seen and it would whet the appetite of Peggy and Margaret for more travel experiences.

Being resourceful and independent women, they realised they were fully capable of undertaking similar journeys themselves. Over the next few years, the pair would take Peggy's big old Humber motor car through New South Wales and Victoria, both inland and coastal, exploring on a whim. Sometimes, the kids would tag along and they would cook outdoors and camp in tents, just as they had all done on 'The Trip.' Margaret and Peggy, Kate and Woody would also do another coach trip with Duncan, spending a month exploring New Zealand from north to south.

On 7th April, 1977, Margaret celebrated her 50th birthday. It was a Thursday, so the merry-making and revelry had to wait for the weekend, but the milestone was shared by her brothers, sisters, parents, aunts and three grandchildren, thanks to Anne and Bill's diligent efforts.

Three weeks later, Margaret's Mum, Annie Rose, passed away. The seventy-eight year old had been born an Egan, in the previous century. It was her Mum, Polly, who had bought the waterfront Sans Souci house in 1902 which had played such a big part in Margaret's life. Rose had trained and worked as a school-teacher before marrying Fred Doepel and giving birth to ten children over fifteen years, before resuming her career. In her later years she had been a constant source of support for Margaret and Margaret's children and once again, Margaret was grieving.

Annie Rose and Frederick Doepel

The following year, Margaret and Peggy were both due long service leave from the Education department, so they sat down and planned another trip away. This time it would be without Kate and Woody, but Peg's sister, Moira and her twelve year old daughter, Jackie would be accompanying them.

At the age of seven, after successfully cooking baked beans on toast for himself, Woody had decided to become a chef. He was a little young then, but by the time he was sixteen the desire was still there and he began an apprenticeship. Kate had managed to navigate the teenage minefield with only some slight shrapnel wounds after half a dozen summers of sand, sunburn, Skyhooks and Sherbet. The two of them were now old enough to be left home alone while Margaret conquered the world.

With the benefit of hindsight and the insight that only parenthood can bring, they would look back on their years at Cronulla under the watchful gaze of their mother as being tough \- but fair. After years of negotiations that ended with, " ...because I'm your mother and I said so," they would find their own way in the world and see their mother in a different light. They would come to appreciate her kindness, her ability in a crisis, her community spirit, her leadership skills and they would learn the most important life lesson – never play scrabble with an ex school-teacher – because she knows words you have never heard of.

Before leaving on her expedition, Margaret stocked the Kurnell Road unit's freezer with food that had some nutritional value, organised a regular fortnightly cleaning lady, left her car keys on the bench, hoped for the best and didn't return for sixteen weeks.

The women had planned to tour Europe and found themselves a good travel agent to help with the itinerary. They were on a school teacher's budget and quickly discovered it was going to take a big hit just with the airfare to London. Margaret said to Peg, "We are going to spend half our money before we have even seen anything," and Peg agreed.

The travel agent scratched his head, looked at the atlas, sharpened his pencil and suggested the Trans Siberian Railway. This rail network stretched for nearly 10,000 kilometres from Moscow to Russia's Far East with branch lines into Mongolia, China and North Korea. He then suggested they travel overland to Siberia via Asia which would avoid a long and expensive flight to England. After Margaret and Peg's heads had stopped spinning they thought it was a wonderful plan and Moira was happy too as her husband had already been to Russia on a work trip, without her, and she had wanted to visit there ever since.

Margaret and Peggy flew to Singapore – a comfortable and affordable eight hour hop – and spent a week there taking in the sights while they waited for Moira and Jackie to join them. The four women then hired a car and headed north, to Russia. Well, almost. Firstly, they had to get to Japan and that meant driving 350 kilometres to Malaysia's capital, Kuala Lumpur. Hoping to arrive in the city before nightfall, the girls took a wrong turn and finished up near the airport. As they searched for an exit, darkness descended like someone had just turned all the lights out. The four women were now lost in the middle of the Malaysian jungle that was as black as the inside of a whale.

They stopped the car to decide on their next move and sharp-eyed Moira noticed two pin pricks of light on the side of the road. She hopped out of the car and walked towards them to immediately disappear down a large hole in the ground. Up she bobbed again like it was a trampoline and was pleased to find two men sitting in a truck, smoking a cigarette and speaking no English. They had been digging the hole that day for a pylon and through much sign language and female charm Moira was able to get directions to the city. Once there, Margaret was able to navigate through the notoriously suicidal traffic, narrowly avoiding a collision or two, and find their hotel for a well deserved sleep.

Their driving took them further north and inland to the unique ecosystem and vegetation of the Cameron Highlands, sitting 1000 metres above sea level and home to a wide variety of flora and fauna not seen elsewhere in Malaysia. The women followed jungle trails to waterfalls and rivers and soaked up the fresh air and tranquillity.

They drove the entire 800 kilometre length of Malaysia, stopping in Penang to visit friends who lived there, before arriving at the Thailand border. Their overland route took them through Thailand, then east to the shores of the South China Sea where they cruised across to Hong Kong, followed by a visit to Taiwan before arriving at their stepping off point in the country of Japan. The superfast bullet train took the group from Osaka to Tokyo at 300 kilometres an hour and from there they climbed aboard a boat that would take them to the Russian port city of Nakhodka.

It would be from here, eighty-five kilometres east of Vladivostok, that Margaret, Peg, Moira and Jackie would catch a train and stay on it for a week – passing through eight time zones – before arriving in Moscow, 9,300 kilometres away. The whole journey would end up taking sixteen days as they disembarked and visited other cities en route.

The iconic railway line had taken 62,000 men twenty-five years to build, finishing in 1916. It would take the travellers across southern Siberia and west through Khabarovsk, on the Amur River, Omsk on the Irtysh River and Kirov on the Vyatka River before pulling into Moscow's Rail Terminal.

The women were met in Moscow by a guide – this was the 1970's and the Iron Curtain was still hanging heavily over many countries. He issued strict travel guidelines and accompanied them to most places. Their accommodation was in the unoriginally named Hotel Russia in Red Square opposite the sixty-five acres of The Kremlin, and they took in the sights of Leningrad and St. Petersburg before travelling west for two days on a train to Berlin.

The Berlin Wall would not come down until 1989, so they had a good look at that before heading to the more relaxed surroundings of Denmark, Sweden and Norway. The tireless explorers hired a car in Scotland and toured that country before doing the same in neighbouring England. They would then spend a month in Europe, visiting Paris, Spain, Italy, Venice and Greece and waltzing to Strauss in a dance hall in the Viennese Woods with a man whose wife wouldn't dance with him. While in Austria, Margaret saw a signpost to the city of Graz, where Eddie had been during the war, but she didn't visit.

After sixteen weeks away, Margaret arrived back in Sydney, and returned to work the next day.

Landing back in the real world with a thud, Margaret's head was still spinning when she stood in her bathroom looking for tell-tale signs of mould after leaving her two teenagers in charge for four months. It was actually three teenagers as one of Margaret's many nephews, Dominic Doepel, had moved to Sydney from Gunnedah for an apprenticeship and shared with Woody and Kate while Margaret was away.

But, she had little to worry about, as it turned out. Except, maybe for the piece of news that her sister, Phil, passed on - Kate has a boy in her life, and it looks serious. Kate had completed a fulltime twelve month clerical course and landed a job working for a solicitor in Martin Place, in the city. At work one day, probably in her lunch hour, she was typing out application letters for her brother who was trying to secure a chef's apprenticeship.

Her boss couldn't help but notice and just happened to have a contact at a hotel in the city. He passed on Woody's application and it was successful. Woody's future as a successful chef began and it would see him working from the snowfields to the Barrier Reef in Cairns cooking for celebrities on luxurious charter boats. He would take a trip around Australia, getting as far as Perth where he would be captivated by the charms of a beautiful woman and remain there.

Kate, meanwhile, had met a boy and it was serious. Mick Fulton would sweep her off her feet and Kate walked down the aisle as a nineteen year old, in 1980, with Woody by her side. Unfortunately, her grandfather, Fred Doepel had died the year before after reaching his 90th birthday.

Inevitably, the time came when all three of Margaret's children had moved on to find their own way in life. Even Woody, the youngest and last to go who had told his mum 'if ever I leave you it wouldn't be in the summertime,' did leave and it was in the summertime.

Margaret had her friends, though, and in the school holidays she would drive to Canberra to visit Bill and Anne and their children. She would always break the trip each way for a Mediterranean lunch of cinnamon spiced lamb moussaka with aubergines and a delicious creamy sauce at her favourite Greek restaurant in Goulburn.

Full-time work still took up most of Margaret's week and she was now employed as a teacher/librarian at a couple of different schools. She rarely had time to get lonely, though, as she continued the family tradition set by her Aunts, Fonce and Maisie. These two ladies had constantly opened up their home at Sans Souci for family whenever they were asked – at one stage for Fred, Rose and all their nine children. Their generosity and love had never gone unappreciated by Margaret and now she continued their legacy by opening her own home to family when they needed it. She also remembered an oft spoken quote of her Mum's –'...if there's room in the heart, there's room in the home.'

Many of her nephews and nieces would find themselves, at some stage of their life, in the unforgiving and impersonal surroundings of Sydney – whether for work or study or other reasons. They always knew Margaret would offer them a home away from home with a fridge full of food, a warm bed and plenty of unconditional love on offer. David and Kevin Bunce from country Gunnedah, The D'Arcy kids from Robertson in the Southern Highlands, Joe Jaconelli and plenty of others in the family would enjoy her generosity over the years.

As well as nieces and nephews to help out, Margaret was also becoming a grandmother many times over. Anne and Bill had wasted no time and were on their way to a family of seven children, and now Kate was joining in the fun. Being the close family they were, the two women even synchronised their pregnancies. During 1985, the sisters both fell pregnant and were both due in the same month. Kate won the race, giving birth to Rachel on 1st November while Anne delivered Emma into the world five days later.

Having two babies together seemed to reduce the eleven year age gap between them – now they were two sisters who were also two mums with two baby daughters. There would be more babies for both of them and eventually brother, Woody, would produce his own brood and extend an already large family even more.

Margaret was heading for sixty years old and decided her time would be better spent with her own children and grandchildren rather than a classroom full of other people's children. She had been a working mum for all of Kate's childhood and now Kate had babies to look after – something Margaret knew plenty about.

At the end of 1986, Margaret retired, took her superannuation and walked out of the school gates for the last time. She had begun her teaching career as a nineteen year old at St. Vincent's College and had now clocked up nearly twenty years with the NSW Education Department. At the time, Margaret may have thought she had seen the last of a classroom, but as fate would have it, that would not be the case.

Over her many years of teaching hundreds of children from curious eight year olds to know-it-all fifteen year olds, some would remain more memorable than others. One particular young boy named Raymond Sund stood out because of the gentle and patient way he interacted with his parents – who were both deaf and mute. His Mum would come to the school occasionally to meet with Margaret and Raymond would interpret his Mum's sign language for his teacher – which would have been interesting as the discussion would have been all about Raymond.

Years later, Margaret was swimming with a friend of hers at Cronulla beach. It was a perfect day with clear blue skies and calm clear water that was warm enough to just float around on. The two ladies were doing just that, drifting peacefully around on their backs when the perfectness of the day inspired them into song. They both sang out loud, echoing each other with not a care in the world because after all, they were anonymous in this vast open ocean. Then, a head bobbed up right next to Margaret's shoulder, interrupting her rousing chorus and the person said, " Hello, Mrs. Bacon." It was a twenty year old Raymond Sund.

Running into ex-students is an unavoidable by-product of being a school teacher. Whenever it happened to Margaret it was always a pleasant encounter because they all appreciated her and knew their lives had been enriched by her teaching.

After retiring, Margaret became involved with the Legacy War Widows group, serving as President every two years. They had their own bus and would go on regular day trips and spend a week away together twice a year. It was an enjoyable time, but after living at Cronulla for twenty years, change was in the wind.

# 5 BROWN STREET, KIAMA

Kate's husband, Mick, had been transferred with his job from Sydney, to the coastal town of Kiama, 120 kilometres south of the city. Kate had two young children and a third was on the way, so Margaret would regularly drive down to visit and spend the day with them. On one such visit as she was driving into the town she noticed a big, bright 'Now Selling' banner on top of a hill. Over a cup of tea with Kate, they decided to go and investigate and discovered a block of twelve villas just being completed that had magnificent ocean views and were coming onto the market.

At the time, Margaret had no intentions of leaving her unit in Cronulla. She loved being close to the beach and her friends were close-by as were her brothers and sisters. When she did her maths, though, and realised the value of her Kurnell Road unit was the same as the asking price for the Kiama Villa – combined with Kate's impending baby arrival – the thought of swapping residences took on a more serious shape. Kate was trying to juggle part-time work with motherhood and Margaret saw it as an ideal opportunity to help her youngest daughter.

Leaving the most populous urban area in Australia with four million people for the sleepy town of Kiama and its 7,000 residents would be quite a change for the sixty-five year old, but twenty years to the day since she moved in to Cronulla, she moved out. It would be the first time in her life Margaret would live away from her brothers and sisters, but they were still within driving distance and would enjoy regular lunches together during Margaret's time in Kiama.

Margaret would have felt immediately at home in the town, not just because of its location overlooking the ocean but also because of its history. Kiama was known as the birthplace of the Australian dairy industry having the first dairy co-operative and dairy factory in the country. The assisted migrants who helped settle the area were predominantly from Ireland, as were Margaret's maternal grandparents. There were so many in the town that in the late 1800's, more than half of the marriages in the Kiama Catholic Church had Northern Irish ancestry.

Margaret's villa on top of the hill

Kiama was now a tourist haven, with the population tripling during the summer months and well known mostly for its blowhole, a natural rock formation that spouts seawater twenty metres into the air. There were also beautiful beaches, picturesque coastal walks, magnificent sea views and a smorgasbord of al fresco cafes and restaurants.

Margaret's three bedroom villa overlooked Bombo beach, Kiama lighthouse and Storm Bay and extended all the way to the ocean's horizon. Every day she could observe the extreme moods of the sea from glassy serene to chaotically angry, rainy days and rainbows, whales and dolphins. It was a beautiful place to be living and she had the added attraction of three grandchildren to dote on.

Eleven months later, Mick's job saw him transferred to Queensland.

While naturally disappointed, Margaret had no intentions of following them once again. Anne was in Canberra and Woody was in Perth so she would just have to accept the geographical divide of her three children. Being idle had never been a part of Margaret's character so she threw herself into community life.

Eddie had always been the gardener in the family, but over the years he had imparted his love and ability for the pastime onto Margaret. Her own childhood had not included much time planting, nurturing and growing flowers or shrubs. Rose was kept busy with nine children, although Margaret remembered one occasion when, as a young girl living on the farm, her mum casually scattered some flower seeds into a garden plot one day and, lo and behold, they sprouted into a colourful but uncared for patch of bright vegetation.

Margaret now had her own garden to care for at the villa and she did so with much enthusiasm. It was important for her to be setting a good example as she had become involved with the Garden Club of Australia, Kiama branch, taking on the familiar role of President. The club was a non-profit organisation with hundreds of branches through Australia and its motto was 'friendship through gardens.'

Through that involvement, Margaret helped to judge the street of the month for the Tidy Towns committee and garden of the month for a local estate agent who provided a monthly $100 prize. It would not have been a good look, then, if Margaret's own garden was uncared for.

The Tidy Towns awards had been initiated in the 1970's as part of the Keep Australia beautiful campaign. When Margaret became involved in the Kiama campaign, 2000 towns Australia wide vied for the privilege of erecting their own Tidy Town sign. The award bought tangible benefits. It was estimated that winning towns received a return of five dollars for every dollar spent through additional tourism and environmental improvement. In 1995, Kiama won the prize for its 'community driven, ecologically sustainable approach to all areas of environmental management.' Key features of its entry were the voluntary gardening scheme adjoining the town's golf course and its very active environmental committee.

Eddie would have been proud.

Margaret remained an active member of the church and through that, the friendship group and the church building group. The friendship club had been sharing the local school hall for their meetings but after a time, the school decided they needed it much more than Margaret's group. Undeterred, she approached the parish priest and simply persuaded him they should build their own hall, adjacent to the church. So, they did and enjoyed many years of card games, meetings and social functions.

Chairing meetings and organisational skills were valuable assets Margaret brought with her to Kiama. They had been learned as a teenager with her involvement in the Catholic Youth Organisation and had continued through her teaching years and, later, with the Legacy group. She had always been grateful for the quality education afforded to her and stood by the St. Vincent's school motto of ' Nobleness Obliges.' A good education was the cornerstone of a successful life and if you had the ability, you were obliged to use it. It was a philosophy Margaret had followed through life and it would be adopted by her thirteen grandchildren – with most completing university and all becoming successful in their chosen fields.

As if she wasn't busy enough, Margaret also took on a role volunteering with the local 'Meals on Wheels' chapter, and also made a return to the classroom. The Government had introduced a scheme in schools where religious education would be taught once a week in a thirty minute lesson. The sessions would be taught by volunteers, so naturally Margaret put her hand up and began imparting her extensive knowledge, gathered over a lifetime, to both secondary and primary students.

Every day from September through to April, she would continue her love of the water and swim at the Kiama rock pool. It was an active lifestyle for a woman approaching seventy years of age who still drove to Canberra twice a year to visit seven grandchildren and enjoy a moussaka lunch.

After five years of that lifestyle, Margaret did indeed reach the age of seventy and it was a good time for a celebration. Kate and Anne arranged a big family re-union and what better place to have it than at North Beach where Margaret had enjoyed so many summers as a child. Her grandfather had practically settled the area with his holiday houses and his many ships had cruised past there on their way through the Bellinger River Heads.

Bed and Breakfasts, caravans and hotels were booked for the weekend and the seventy-five family members who all converged on the sleepy hamlet to celebrate their matriarch's birthday. The local hall was booked for a Saturday night shindig and it was so successful a decision was made to repeat the party every five years.

The following year, another major birthday would be celebrated with Margaret in attendance.

Ninety five years after this story began, on 10th October, 1903, it is 10th October 1998 and Margaret Bacon is the Guest of Honour at Williamstown, on Port Phillip Bay. The occasion is the 95th birthday of the vessel, 'Alma Doepel'. Margaret had been invited to attend by the Chairman and Board of Governors of Sail and Adventure Limited, who operated the vessel as a sail training ship. Although offered a plane ticket to Melbourne, Margaret decided to drive down with three of her sisters, Patricia, Philomena and Josephine.

By 1pm on the Saturday, the vessel had docked at Gem Pier, with the crew in full period costume. Margaret and her sisters, also in period costume, were picked up from their accommodation at the historic Hickinbotham House in a horse-drawn carriage, and transported to the pier where the Salvation Army Brunswick Brass Band was entertaining the crowd.

Official proceedings began at 2pm with a launching speech by one of the Directors, Murray Campbell,

"...We are now some 95 years on, about to enter a new millennium. What a fascinating period of history the Alma Doepel has served through so faithfully. She has seen all the great changes to the world of this 20th century. Perhaps the best analogy of the place this wonderful vessel holds in history is this. After fitting out, the Alma Doepel left the Bellinger River for her maiden voyage to Sydney -in December, 1903, less than one week after the Wright Brothers first heavier than air flight at Kitty Hawk USA.

Alma Doepel is therefore exactly as old as the world's whole aircraft industry.

It is with great pleasure that I now invite Mrs. Margaret Bacon, the eldest niece of Alma Doepel herself, to perform the same service as did her grandmother, ninety-five years ago to this day."

Margaret then stood on the platform and said proudly, "I hereby re-christen you 'Alma Doepel'. Godspeed all who sail in you."

She then swung a bottle of champagne which broke on the bow of the vessel, the band played God Save The Queen and 'three cheers' rang out across the wharf.

l-r Patricia, Josephine, Penny, Margaret and Phil

The next three years kept Margaret as busy as usual but she was missing her children. Family had always played an important part in her life and they were hard to ignore with eight brothers and sisters all with their own children. Anne had left her 50th birthday behind and Kate was in her forties with Woody closing in and there were now enough grandchildren to field a cricket team.

So when Margaret's son-in-law, Bill, decided to retire after a long and successful career in the Navy, and leave Canberra, the writing was on the wall for Margaret. Kate and Mick had finished up on the Sunshine Coast, north of Brisbane and given its many attractions, Anne and Bill took a shine to it as well. There was much to like for a young family. The Sunshine Coast University had been welcoming students for a couple of years and there were some major shopping centres to cater for after school part-time jobs and...shopping.

The climate was very appealing compared to Canberra's, although the climate on Mars was appealing compared to Canberra's, but real estate prices were affordable and of course there were the beaches. Kate and Mick seemed to be very happy there, so Anne and Bill decided to move their family to the Sunshine Coast.

Having one daughter in Queensland and a son in Western Australia was acceptable for Margaret because that's what happens with families but when Anne decided to move 1300 kilometres away it was just too far to go for a Sunday lunch.

After spending ten years in Kiama chairing meetings, running committees, helping with Meals on Wheels, teaching religious education, organising friendship groups and judging gardens, the unstoppable human whirlwind that was Margaret Bacon left the residents to fend for themselves – and moved to Queensland.

l-r Josephine, Eris, Margaret, Pat, Mary, Phil, Greg, Terrence

# 33 SATINWOOD PLACE, MOUNTAIN CREEK

Another good reason to move to the Sunshine Coast was that her good friend and travelling companion of more than thirty years, Peggy, had also moved there. Ever since the days of Wollongong Teachers College with its class of odd-bods, the two women who had both lost their husbands had shared countless memories together. Peggy's sister had moved there so, on retirement from teaching, Peggy did too.

Margaret sold her villa in Kiama with its well cared for garden and ocean views to a retiring Protestant Church Minister, clearly showing no ill feeling between Catholics and Protestants. Her brother, Terry and his wife Lesley, drove Margaret to the Sunshine Coast where she stayed with Peggy and did the merry-go-round of open inspections. The prices were attractive and Margaret would continue her profit-making real estate investment decisions which had begun with the 'little house' back in 1948. From First Avenue, Gymea, to Cronulla and now Kiama she had timed the market to perfection and Mountain Creek would be no exception.

November seemed to be a favourite month for Margaret to move house and she did so again in 2000, which would prove to be a good year to buy a house on the Sunshine Coast, with prices soaring soon after.

Number thirty-four Satinwood Place was no ordinary house. It sat at the end of a dead end street which fronted an expanse of parkland and the Mooloolah River. It also had four bedrooms which, at the time, may have seemed excessive for a single seventy-five year old woman, but within two months those four bedrooms were put to good use.

Bill's discharge from the Navy was dragging on slowly and their kids needed to start a new school year so, in January the following year, Anne moved in with her Mum, along with Emma and Jessica in their final years of high school and Katharine in her final year of Primary. The Navy finally released Bill from its clutches in August and the family would be reunited.

33 Satinwood Place

Always having been a water baby, Margaret decided to have a swimming pool installed at her new house. It would prove to be a big attraction for her grandchildren and their friends, as was the creek which was within kayak dragging distance from the house.

Given the natural attractions the Sunshine Coast offered, along with Margaret's spacious home and four bedrooms, there was never a lack of visitors. Nephews, nieces, brothers and sisters from Sydney and children and grandchildren from around the corner were all welcomed into her home with open arms, laughter and a fridge full of food.

Once a teacher, always a teacher, though, or perhaps 'Nobleness Obliges' still rang true for Margaret because she soon took on a role at Mountain Creek Primary School assisting any young students who were having trouble with their reading.

She also joined U3A, the University of the Third Age, an international movement whose aims were the education and stimulation of retired members of the community. Margaret probably should have been President of the University as she had resumed teaching religious education at two local schools, continuing a career that had been a part of her life for more than sixty years.

Unavoidable as it was, age began to slowly impact on Margaret's life. Growing old had never slowed her down before, and to her, old age was always fifteen years older than what she was. But, as she approached eighty-five Margaret decided to stop driving her car which impacted on her social activities. Maintaining a four bedroom home and garden was also becoming tiresome and after nearly ten years, it was time for another change. This one would be a major down-size move and packing up at Satinwood Place became a complex undertaking.

One of the saddest things to go, for Margaret was the grandfather clock.

Shortly after they married, Eddie had made a surprise announcement to Margaret that he would like twelve sons and a grandfather clock. Margaret's jaw may have dropped slightly at this revelation, but after recovering she set herself enthusiastically to the task – of bearing twelve sons. After nine years and only one beautiful daughter to show for their efforts, Margaret said to Eddie, "...perhaps we better get that grandfather clock!"

Eddie purchased one he had been eyeing off for some time that was just a few doors down from his office in the city. The clock then followed Margaret for over fifty years as she moved from Gymea to Cronulla, to Kiama and Satinwood Place. There would be no room for it at her next address, though, so Woody came over from Perth to help with the removals, carefully packed up the grandfather clock and spent $1,000 to send it back to his home where it would remain a loved family heirloom.

Much of her remaining furniture was distributed to grateful family or sold, as Margaret was moving from her four bedroom home with a swimming pool, to a one bedroom residence and a common dining room. Luckily, Margaret had always been adaptable but it meant foregoing many of the activities she had enjoyed for years. Teaching, attending U3A, volunteering and joining discussion and social groups all disappeared overnight.

# LINDSAY GARDENS, BUDERIM

The retirement village of Lindsay Gardens sat among seven hectares of landscaped grounds, offering a peaceful lifestyle and a unique community atmosphere. They also boasted an indoor swimming pool and spa, a gymnasium and, most importantly for Margaret, a well stocked library.

Margaret's thoughts on down-sizing

Within two weeks of moving in, she took on a role that was familiar to her – the librarian. Management of the village library had been sorely neglected and it was just a room with some bookshelves and books. The tireless Margaret set herself to the task and set about introducing a proper Dewey Decimal System to organise the books. She separated them into their ten broad classes and divided all the novels into romance or detective and murder mysteries and all the biographies by type. A borrowing and return system was introduced and the end result was probably one of the best organised and stocked retirement village libraries on the Sunshine Coast.

Being an octogenarian and living in a retirement village did not mean life had to stop for Margaret. Sitting in her room with the curtains drawn watching re-runs of Days of Our Lives in between frequent naps was never going to happen. Socialising, singing, discussing and playing cards were all activities that could be enjoyed without the benefit of a car, and she encouraged other residents to adopt a similar attitude.

For those who did not know how to play, Margaret taught. The game of Rummy became a popular one and some days there would be groups of up to thirty people all keen to learn and join in. If the rules were too complicated for everyone, she would simply change them and make up her own rules to suit the ability of the players. Unconventional behaviour was not new for Margaret and bending the rules a little had certainly never bothered her.

There were regular sing-alongs and visiting entertainers and family would always be dropping by. Margaret was happy at Lindsay Gardens and wasn't considering another move, but changing addresses did seem to have become a way of life for her. Although she was unable to get to Mass on Sundays, local parish affairs interested her and there was a proposal in nearby Maroochydore that raised her eyebrows.

# ST. VINCENTS, MAROOCHYDORE

Australia's largest not for profit Catholic aged care provider, St, Vincent's, was collaborating with the local Stella Maris parish overseen by Catholic priest, Father Joe Duffy.

The proposal was for a modern, six storey, 120 bed around the clock facility that would be ready to accept residents in early 2016. Margaret went along to a planning meeting and spent the next four years watching its progress, as it rose slowly from the ground.

Lindsay Gardens was a low care facility and being ever practical, Margaret realised the day may come when she needed a higher level of care. Some of her fellow residents had experienced serious falls and were forced to accept a residential position at wherever may be available – which could be from Caloundra to Noosa.

Having Kate and Anne close-by was important, so as soon as it was possible, the three of them went for an inspection of the available rooms. Once Margaret realised she could have a room with an ocean view she was sold.

The view

The modern exterior

The ocean had played a constant role in her life ever since paddling in the calm waters opposite Riverside Drive as a two year old. For thirty years, at Cronulla and Kiama, Margaret was able to hear the ocean, walk to its beaches and swim in its waters.

Walking to the beach for a swim days may have been over for Margaret, but she still enjoyed the comfort of being near the ocean and seeing it from her window.

While not one of the first residents who moved into their new rooms in January, 2016, Margaret wasn't far behind – settling in the following month, just in time for her 90th birthday celebrations.

Surrounded by her successful and admiring grandchildren in 2017, it was difficult to ignore the value of good genes. It may not have been scientifically proven but Margaret had either passed on an extraordinary legacy through genetics or maybe just by setting a good example. The three children she had conceived with Eddie – Anne, Kate and Woody – had themselves led happy and fulfilling lives, but their combined thirteen grand-children were an inspiring story of their own.

Ben, a Senior Aircraft Maintenance Engineer, Lucy who owns her own consultancy business, Jacinta, a lecturer in Climatology, Daniel a Senior Field Services Specialist in Automation and Engineering, Emma, a fashion designer with her own label, Jessica, with a PhD in Public Health Nutrition and Katharine, a Content Marketing Specialist are all high achievers from Anne and Bill's family.

Then there is Rachel, studying Speech Pathology at University in London, Amy, a Head Chef, Luke, about to be a Ship's Captain and Sally, a Client Relations Officer studying for a Business degree from Kate and Mick. Woody and Peta have Holly, with a Bachelor of Education and Rose, with a Bachelor of Nursing finishing off an outstanding collection of young people of whom Margaret is justifiably proud.

The only trouble with living in an aged care facility, though, was that it was full of old people. And many of those people were more advanced in their age problems than what Margaret was. One of the positives was a poetry group that encouraged Margaret's creative side and possibly gave her an outlet to express the frustrations with growing old. She had been around the world – seen the ancient Parthenon in Greece and the even older Pantheon in Rome, the majesty of the Grand Canyon, the awe-inspiring Niagara Falls, the ancient ruins of Turkey and the over-crowded ruins of The Philippines.

She had loved and been loved and was still loved. It was the constant in her assorted life and it had kept her happy for ninety-one years.

Now, pragmatism, her strong and continued faith and a positive outlook kept Margaret young and she was comforted by a belief that those who were afraid of death were those that had not lived.

And she was not afraid. Because Margaret Bacon would most certainly leave behind a life well lived.
