Maureen Sullivan’s (Sr. Elizabeth) Sullivan and some family history (William Sullivan & Florence Dowling).

O’SULLIVAN, SULLIVAN STORY

The name is of a very well known Munster family. The original patrimony of the O’Sullivan’s lay along the River Suir, in the present County Tipperary, and their principal seat was at Knockgraffon near Cahir. In the year 1192A.D. they were forced by the Anglo-Norman invasion into the mountains of Cork and Kerry. In their new home, however, they acquired extensive possessions and became one of the most powerful families in all Ireland.

Notwithstanding the confiscation of their estates in the 17″ Century, the O’SULLIVANS are still a respected family. The name is famous in Spain, Belgium and Germany, with the titles of Count and Baron. It is also famous in the United States of America and Great Britain.

O’SULLIVAN simply means Son of Sullivan.
The family motto is
THE HAND OF FRIENDSHIP IS STILL FIRM.

Grandfather, Eugene and other family members left Bandon, County Cork, Ireland during the famine and sailed for the United States, settling in Newhaven, Connecticut.

The story goes that Eugene found the climate very cold or maybe it was the lure of gold, which made him head for Melbourne, Australia, where he arrived in 1850, having been lost to his family for some years. When he was located he was working in the Sunbury and Broadmeadows areas cutting and trussing hay into stooks.

Mary Doran had also migrated with her parents and was living in Bolingbroke now Pascoe Vale. They were married on the 17th or 27th October, 1860 in St. Francis Church, Melbourne. At Preston, part of which was known as “Irishtown” they established a farm of 16 acres which grew eventually to 80 acres, including 20 on the southern side of Gower Street where fodder for horses was grown. On the northern side, the farm ultimately extended to Wood Street and a dairy herd was built up. The farmhouse still stood in 1997 at 160 Gower Street.

Eugene and Mary had fourteen children; nine sons and five daughters. My father, William was the second youngest and the last boy.

Dad had been a postman early in his working life. He must have lived in Collingwood in those days as he came from there when he married. He was a quiet reserved man, who never said an unkind word about anyone. I heard him once say to my brothers, “If you can’t say anything good about a person, don’t say anything.” It seemed that he only communicated with his family members at Christmas. No doubt it was too much to keep up with the other 10 living ones. He used to say, “as long as we know the others are alright, we don’t need to be in touch.” He was good at reciting poetry, so on the rare occasions that we had company, he would be called upon to entertain them by reciting. One of the audience’s favourites was “Peter Soregum in Love.” He kept a small notebook into which he had copied all these poems and after his death, I inherited it.

My mother, Florence, born on 17th April, 1886, fondly called “Florrie” or ‘Flo’ was the third child – eldest daughter of John Henry and Marie Cecilia Dowling (nee Judd) who were married at Emerald Hill, later South Melbourne, in 1881. She was a very different character from my father — more outgoing. She had been a seamstress at Ball and Welch, beginning work when she was just thirteen. She had many friends throughout life and kept up with them — The Ralphs, Clancys, Mc Gintys and Thomases often visited our home. Mum was more volatile than Dad — he had only to look cross or warn us and we would quiver. Mum often used the phrase: “I’ll tell your Father” and we would ‘toe the line’ at once. When it came to getting permission for what we wanted, she would say, ‘What did your father say?” Conversely, he would ask, “Did your mother say you could?” But they were both caring and loving parents, going without those extra pleasures, to make sure that we were well fed and clothed and received a good education. They had very high standards of behaviour and a strong Catholic Faith to back it up.

William and Florence were married at Sacred Heart Church, Preston on 2nd August 1912. They had five children, Francis William (Frank) born 9th September 1916; John Joseph (Jack) born 21st July 1918; Kevin Eugene (Kevin) born 1st July 1921; Mary Patricia (Pat) born 3rd January 1926; and Maureen Florence ( Maureen) born on 17th December 1928.

The Sullivan /O’Sullivan Dilemma in our family

Eugene Sullivan, Dad’s father did not use the O when he came to Australia. Archbishop Carr, who ordained Dad’s brother, Timothy in 1900; because of a duplication of names in the seminary, tacked on the O. The mistake, was that we were all registered O’Sullivan when we were born. Dad maintained that he didn’t owe anything to anyone, so he didn’t use the O. In the next generation, Fr. O’Byrne, an Irishman and the Parish Priest of Our Lady’s South Wangaratta, gave it to my brother Jack’s children at Baptism or when they were married . My father’s advice to the boys was not to use the O when they were seeking employment during the Depression as it was a dead give away that they were of Irish descent and Catholic. During World War II, when Kevin was in the Air Force, my mother was mortified when a policeman came to our front door, asking why he had changed his name from O’ Sullivan to Sullivan.

When I entered the Brigidines in 1946, the then Mother Provincial, Xavier Ryan said that I was to use it even though all my school life I had been known as Maureen Sullivan.

Maureen’s Story

I was born at home at 47 Brunel Street, East Malvern, where we lived till I was 3. Just six days later, I was taken by my father and the nurse, who cared for me at the time, to St. Mary’s Church to be baptised. Mum, apparently was not well enough to be present. This nurse, whose name I don’t recall, gave me a very beautiful Prayer book which I cherished for many years.

It seems that when I was about six months old, my life hung in the balance for a time. Dad had a relic of the Little Flower (St. Therese of Lisieux) which had been given to him by a French nun for whom he had done some favour.

This he put under my pillow, and, no doubt prayed to the saint and I recovered. Our parents taught us our prayers. At first it was “God bless Mummy and Daddy and make me a good girl.” Later we learnt the more formal prayers like the Our Father and Hail Mary.

During my early life I remember my maternal grandmother being with us for short periods. We had a photograph of her standing in the front garden near the hydrangeas and another of Pat, Kevin and myself outside the back door.

I don’t remember a great deal about those days except that the boys were allowed to play in the Hedgely Gardens behind our house. There was a gate that led out to them but Pat and I did not venture out without our parents. In 1997 Pat took me for a drive around that area and when we stopped outside the old place, the then owner invited us in to see the house which had been vastly altered by them.

Frank, Jack, Kevin and Pat all attended St. Mary’s Primary School. Later on Frank and Jack went to De La Salle College, Malvern. Kevin must still have been at the Primary when we left and Pat had made her First Communion there under the guidance of Mother Francesca Lennon.

Our next move was to Lucerne Street, Mentone (now part of the Mentone Boys Grammar School). Ultimately we were to live in three houses in Mentone.

Dad was very fond of the area which may have been because his brother Tim had been Parish Priest at St. Patrick’s from 1917 — 1928.

I remember my mother’s sister, Ellie, coming to visit us one time and she collapsed in our lounge room. The event terrified me as I suppose I thought she would die. On another occasion, I recall that my mother was, as usual, doing her washing on Monday morning when the Parish Priest arrived unexpectedly. She was mortified to think that she was found in her soaked apron by a PRIEST.

Neighbours

We had neighbours, the Kings, who had one daughter, Charman. We often played together. I think that my mother was not overly happy about our friendship as she was not a Catholic. When I started school, she went to the Girl’s Grammar, so the ties were severed.

School Days

Pat went to school at Kilbreda because it was on “our” side of the railway line and my parents considered it was safer than her crossing over the line to go to St. Patrick’s Primary which was a church-school at the time. I was a very lonely without her and used to stand at the front gate waiting for her to come home from school. Sometimes my Mother would take me to the corner of Lucerne St. and Como Pde., where we could see her approaching from a distance. I was also very shy when I was little and I can remember clinging to Dad’s legs or sitting on his knee while other children played and had fun at a function in Kilbreda (Como) Hall , before I started school. I joined Pat at Kilbreda in February, 1934 when I was six being taught in the Infants by Mother Elizabeth Griffin. In the following year, Pat and I became boarders at Kilbreda. That year Dad had six months’ leave from his job in the Customs. He leased a small farm in Pearcedale where Frank and Jack were put to farming because they had found it hard to find or keep a job due to the Depression. During this time mum lived in a flat in Payne St. Frankston with Kevin, who was attending St. Patrick’s College, East Melbourne, travelling there each day by train. No doubt it was considered that we little girls were too young to travel by train to Mentone.

I was prepared for my First Holy Communion, which took place in Kilbreda Chapel, by Mother Evangelist Butler. The night before, she put my hair in rags so I’d have curls and look my best the next day. We had to be very careful not to swallow any water whilst cleaning our teeth, because that would break our fast and we wouldn’t be able to receive Communion. Our Communion breakfast took place in what was then the Library. We sat along the sides of a long table with Fr. Adrian Martin, then Parish Priest, at the top and I recall that he and I shared an orange.

To break me out of my shyness or because I was having private Elocution lessons, I was chosen to recite a poem for the Christmas play. I had to walk the length of Kilbreda Hall, through the audience reciting “How far is it to Bethlehem?” My preparation was being drilled by Mother Berchmans Foley who took me to the empty hall for practice each day till I was word perfect. My mother was known to tell the story of how someone sitting next to her on the night of the concert thought my performance wonderful and my mother’s breast swelled with pride as she revealed that I was her daughter.

At the end of that year, my parents gave all the boarders a party, for a good-bye celebration. When we came out of the boarders’ dining-room, I thought it was the end of the world because there had been a red dust storm and everything looked very eerie.

When Dad’s leave was over, it was necessary for the family to be re-united – Mum and Kevin from Frankston, Pat and myself from Boarding School. Frank and Jack remained on the farm for a while but could not manage alone.

For the second time we moved to Mentone where our parents had found a suitable house at 19 Naples Road. This meant that Pat and I became Day Pupils again.

Three boys, Brian, Dick and Sean Bourke, lived next door and on the other side was a vacant allotment where we often played Cowboys and Indians with them, hiding or making huts in the tea tree which is common in the area.

Our house was not large having only two bedrooms but there was a sleep-out in the backyard so the boys occupied that. I have a vivid memory of my parents and we girls, preparing melon for jam-making. All the pips had to be removed before cutting up the melon and the pipping was our job. It was good fun! Not such good fun was when my mother was frying vegetables and the pan caught fire. She had a severe burn on her wrist which must have been very painful. I guess Dad cooked our evening meal for the next week or so. On another occasion when Dad was working overtime and therefore not with us for the evening meal, we were having boiled mutton in parsley sauce when Mum got some gristle caught in her throat and she very nearly choked — not a good experience for two little girls.

I hated the nights when Dad had to stay back late at work. It was during these years at Naples Rd. that a Polio Epidemic broke out and the schools were closed. Although we couldn’t go and play with other children I remember getting up on the fence between our houses to talk to the Burkes.

When the boys came home from the farm they brought back a dog called Patch. She eventually had a litter of pups, one of which we kept named Bobbie.

One Saturday afternoon, both Frank and Jack wanted to go and play tennis. Apparently there were only one pair of white sandshoes between them, so they fought and Jack threw one shoe over the fence into the paddock. Dad had to intervene, but Jack who was hot-headed, ran away and although Dad tried to follow him his efforts were in vain. From then onwards my Mother would sit in the corner of her bedroom by the window watching for him to return. She would have her rosary beads in her hand, praying for his safety. After some months he turned up at the back door where Dad had to talk to him before he was allowed to come inside. He had been working on farms in N.S.W.

Pat had a friend at school, named Valerie Wadsworth. Her parents ran a hotel and she was boarding at Kilbreda. On some special occasion she came to stay with us. She was very taken with the boys and they with her. I think they had lot of fun together.

By now I was 8 and was taught by Mother Agnes O’Keane in the cottage, which was a classroom set apart from the rest of the school and near the nuns’ laundry. She looked very severe and sat on a rostrum in the comer of the room, but she drilled us well in spelling, tables and daily recitation of poetry and the Catechism. We sat in long forms, six or seven desks in a row. I remember well the clock on the mantelpiece over the fireplace with its swinging pendulum. I suppose I watched the clock hoping that the hands would move more quickly.

During that year and the next, Pat and I had all the childhood illnesses plus Pat developed a poisoned knee following the Sports’ Day sack race. I had to go on my scooter to fetch the doctor when she became delirious. This particular scooter had pumped — up tyres so when I went in the scooter race on the Sports’ day, I had the advantage over all the others. No one seemed to notice this. Towards the end of the race, I was so far ahead that I stopped scooting, put my two feet on the board and sailed home. I even received a trophy when it came to Speech Night, that year.

On another occasion I had a heavy chest infection and on the verge of pneumonia. In addition, one day we had a visit from the McGinty’s and John, who was about my age and I had a collision. He was on my scooter and I was riding Pat’s bicycle, when he looked around, swerved in front of me and I went over the handle-bars on to the road. A bed was set up on the back verandah and the doctor was sent for. He pronounced a broken nose accompanied, of course by two black eyes.

About this time, I was beginning to come out of my shell a bit. I loved to sing and dance in front of the wardrobe mirror in our bedroom and once had the temerity to ask Dad if I could learn dancing. Such a thing was considered infra dig, but very likely we could not afford it.

There were three of us in the class when I was in Grade 5 and in the end of the year exams, I came third —a real come down as I had done quite well in previous years. Mother Stanislaus taught us and, for a time, Mother Damien. My father was very upset when he received a second account for my fees, from the latter. He wrote a note for me to give her, stating that he had always paid his accounts and that she would receive it as soon as he was able to do so. I knew what the note was about and was a little shy about delivering it.

The next year we left Mentone temporarily as Mum’s Mother wanted to live with us and all her connections were in Preston, Clifton Hill or Brunswick. We rented a house belonging to Gertie Landgridge at 8 Joffre Street, East Preston and I went to school at Sacred Heart Primary, Preston. Some of Joe Costigan’s children were there at the time but not in my grade. The Costigans were regarded as the “Intellectuals” and we were very ordinary in that area. Pat stayed on at Kilbreda for a time as a weekly boarder, but she was very lonely and homesick.

I had never been in a mixed school and also found the Good Samaritan Sisters very different from the Brigidines. The cane was used not only for misbehaviour but also for inability to get Mental Arithmetic and Spelling etc. right.

I was very unhappy at school and somewhat fearful at home. My mother was looking after her ailing mother who suffered from Bronchial Pneumonia. Often mum would have to get up at night to attend to her. Coughing spasms would often give way to vomiting attacks the sound of which terrified me, so much so, that I would cover my head with the bed clothes. I guess I missed my mother’s attention and was fretful when she had to leave our room at night — her sleep being frequently broken. Dad had several bouts of illness whilst we were there, as well. Around about this time Pat left Kilbreda and went to Broadmeadows Foundling Home, run by the Josephite Sisters, to train in Mothercraft Nursing.

War was declared on 3rd September 1939 and it was not long before Frank and Jack enlisted in the Army. After a while Frank was pronounced as medically unfit as he couldn’t do the route marches required due to a recurrent abscess at the base of his spine. It was during our time in Preston that Frank began going to Thornbury, where he met Mary Sheehan. At the time he was working at the Munitions factory in Maribyrnong area but was being moved to Hamilton.

They wanted to be married before they moved, but Mary’s sister was very ill and in fact died before the marriage took place. They went to arrange the wedding but it was Lent and they could not have a Nuptial Mass so they were married on St. Patrick’s Day 17^th March, which was a feast day, in St. John’s Church, Thornbury before going to live in Hamilton.