​​Whilst studying my Maternal Grandmother’s tree, some 6 generations in I came to a dead end. So I went back through documents that had been given to me by a cousin of my grandmother and amongst them was the Brent Family tree, constructed in 1904 by Arthur Brent.

Upon reading the document, I saw where William Brent had married Catherine Livingston, but no other family information. However, the interesting part was a comment that she was the grand daughter of a General Hull in Wellington’s army.

My next step was to research a General Hull that in that era, no such luck, the only General Hull of that time, was in the American army during the war of Independence, but he died without issue.

Searching through google and other documents, I came upon a General who was in fact with Wellington, during his campaigns, but not a General Hull, but a General Sir Evelyn Pierrepont [1665-1726], 1st Duke of Kingston upon Hull, Arthur Brent had uncovered an important word.

General Pierrepont had one daughter, Anne Pierrepont [1719-1739] who married Alexander Livingston [1707-1766]. Anne died in childbirth, but her daughter Catherine survived.

With this discovery, I was able to then go on to expand my tree in the Livingston and Pierrepont families.


David Lowing
Family Research
​27th March 2022

​THE MILLEAR/LOWING FAMILY:   

​1878 to 1992 in the Conargo District, 114 years of residency by 5 generations of the Millear’s.
 
Thomas Millear [1834-1895], arrived in Australia on the clipper ship “Redjacket” in 1857. He married Nancy Mack, [Albert Austin’s cousin, being the daughter of Anna Mack; nee Austin.] in 1862, in a joint wedding between Albert Austin & Catherine Mack, Nancy’s sister.

Albert & Catherine were given control of “Eilyer”, Lake Bolac & Thomas & Nancy leased, “Greenvale”, Wickliffe, from Nancy’s uncle James Austin.

In 1876 Thomas Millear, secured control of 60000 acres of “Greenvale”, upon its sale, with the balance purchased by Josiah Austin. Thomas called his new property “Edgarley”, after his family’s home farm in Somerset, England, he then built his magnificent homestead & outbuildings on the property in the same year. 
 
In 1878 the property Wanganella was purchased by Messrs Albert Austin & Thomas Millear, along with the entire Double Stud & half of the General Stud.  The two brothers in law carried on the partnership, with Millear being responsible for the day to day management of the property and stud and Austin living down on “Eilyer”, in the Lake Bolac district in the Western District of Victoria. It was Millear that was the main contributor to the rapid rise and improvement of the Wanganella Stud between the years of 1878 and the dissolvement of the family partnership in 1894.

This partnership continued until 1894, when the owners decided to divide the property & stud. As they were brothers in law, as well as lifelong friends, they devised an equable process for the division.
 
This was implemented along the following lines: the two partners both were to draw straws, with the winner taking the half of the property which he selected & the other had the first selection of the stud sheep.  Hence history shows that Albert drew the long straw, which meant that the western half [31500 acres], with its entire infrastructure stayed in the hands of the Austin family & the eastern half [26500 acres] was retained by the Millear family.

This meaning that Thos Millear had to build complete station infrastructure, homestead, shearing & ram sheds, as well as yards & other out buildings, he then left “Edgarley”, to his son Thos Millear II & moved into his new homestead which had been built at Wanganella Estate [was destroyed in a fire in 1937] by the esteemed Melbourne architect Walter Butler, who also designed such homes as “Blackwood”, Penshurst, “Newminster Park”, Camperdown, “Warrawee”, “Kamillaroi” & “Edzell” in Toorak, “Billilla”, Brighton, “Thanes”, Kooyong & Dame Nellie Melba’s, “Coombe” at Coldstream.  

History also shows us that the real prize was the stud sheep & Millear then had the opportunity to take control of all the top stud sheep, Millear having been the main controller of the Wanganella Stud knew exactly which sheep were the best, so the famous Peppin Double Stud and other top sheep went to Wanganella Estate, with these sheep now being run on the eastern portion of the property, which was renamed “Wanganella Estate”. Thomas Millear died in 1895 & his wife Nancy survived him until 1907, both are buried in the Deniliquin cemetery.
 
DENILIQUIN STUD PARK 
 
In 1888, Thomas Millear selected a draft of Wanganella stud ewes for his Victorian property “Edgarley” at Willaura, in the Western District of that state & a second draft of 2298 was transferred in 1891. These ewes then formed the nucleus of the “Edgarley” stud & flock.

In 1889 the 20,000 acre property “Willow Park”, which was situated on the southern boundary of both Wanganella & Wanganella Estate, was purchased & renamed “Deniliquin Stud Park”, for by now the demand for Millear rams by the Pastoralists, was so great that “Edgarley” wasn’t able to breed enough, so a second stud was formed & run at the Deniliquin property. [It appears that D.S.P was reduced in size sometime after its purchase, either before the WW1, or after Thomas III took control in 1920, for in 1958 the property was subdivided into 13 Returned Soldiers farms of approx 1000 acres each, with the Lowing family retaining 5 farms totalling approx 6000 acres]. In 1895, Thomas Millear transferred to his son Thomas Millear II [1866-1940], the “Edgarley” stud, which was then, taken to Wanganella Estate. After the death of his father in 1895, Thos II transferred the “Wanganella Estate” special stud ewes to “Deniliquin Stud Park”, in order build up the quality of the “D.S.P” stud.  Between the years of 1895 and 1910, when Millear II controlled Wanganella Estate, he transferred a great percentage of the stud, to his property DSP and moved the DSP sheep onto Wanganella Estate.

This decision proved to be very advantageous, for in the ensuing years “D.S.P” created some of the highest price sales of stud rams in the history of the Australian Merino industry, with the world record price in 1906 of 1200 gns [for “Donald Dinnie” who was a five year old ram] & in today’s dollar terms would represent several million, plus many sales of 1000 gns to 1500 gns and in 1924 the Ram “Sir William” was sold for another world record price of 1550 gns [again in today’s dollar terms, over the one million mark[readers please remember these sales took place from the period of the early 1900’s until the 1920’s].   
 
Donald Dinnie in 1906 after his sale to Canowie Estates in South Australia:

If I hadn’t played golf on that Sunday afternoon in August 1994, Reg Smith, my golf partner on the day, may not have asked me one of the most important questions of my life, “How would you like to join our Lion’s Club”.   I already knew all the club members, in fact I had been at boarding school with at least two of them and had long admired what they were doing within our community.  In replying in the affirmative to his question, I was introduced to Lions Clubs International.  Little did I realize what a journey that answer would take me on.
 
My induction evening, to say the least, had a somewhat disastrous beginning.  Vin Hanrahan, another local, and I arrived at the Lake Bolac pub where the local Lions club had their dinner meetings, only to find an empty dining room.  The publican was “in the dark”, so to speak, on where the members were.   A few minutes later, Jim Hinton, a Lion from Skipton arrived.  Jim, the Regional Chairman, was visiting that night to induct both Vin and yours truly into Lions.  
 
Salvation arrived in the shape of David McKay.  David true to form, was somewhat tardy with his arrival times at Lions meetings and this night wasn’t very different than any in the past. Why he decided to call into the pub that night and not drive on to the meeting place for that evening, we will never know, but he did.  He also knew that the dinner that night was at the Maroona pub. 
 
The four of us set off on the road for Maroona, only to arrive thirty minutes late.   Oh well!   All was sorted out and after many apologies from the secretary, the evening went off with much celebration, for the club had reached double membership numbers, a whole ten of us.
 
I had only been at the club for a couple of months, when we had the annual DG’s visit.  I was to find out what a DG was in the guise of Lion Colin Kennett, the District Governor in the 1994/95 year.  I remember Colin congratulating the club on increasing its membership by twenty percent, a huge increase percentage wise. While only two members in actual numbers, it was nevertheless quite an upward movement in membership. In the ten years I spent in the Lake Bolac Club we increased our numbers to a lofty seventeen, just three shy of our Charter number in 1975.   Not bad really, when you consider that the town’s population had declined to only one hundred and twenty-five adults.  Just under fourteen percent of the adult population were Lions. I don’t think many clubs could boast of being above that figure!!!!
 
All Lions in the club had a position and my first was, Social Director.  I had to organize dinner meetings, invite the guest speakers, as well as organize any other social events that came the club’s way.
 
One of the fun events we participated in was the “Cream Can”.  This involved visitations to other clubs in Zones eight, nine and ten. The general theme was that whichever club had the Can, would make a visitation to one of the other clubs within the three Zones, leaving the Can with that club.   They would also “pinch” a piece of that club’s memorabilia, usually the Gong, to be ransomed.  This meant a visitation to the thieving club’s next dinner meeting with a sum of money to buy back the object that had mysteriously walked!!  This was all in jest and was taken as “par for the course”. Getting back to the Can, for each week that a club had the Can in their possession, they had to insert money through the slot in its lid.  If I remember correctly, it was five dollars, but I can’t be too sure about the amount.
 
In our Lions Zone, we had six Clubs - Ararat, Lake Bolac and District, Mortlake, Skipton and Stawell. We held annual inter zone games nights for many years, with the winning club having the honour of holding the “Lion” [a stuffed Lion], for the next twelve months.
 
The games were made up of such demanding pursuits as, darts, putting golf balls, hooky, bobs and anything else that could wile away the evening.  Points were awarded on club size and the winner took home the “Lion”.
 
Each club took it in turns to supply the evening meal, which usually consisted of a BBQ and accompanying food - nothing out of the ordinary for a Lions club.   However, I do remember that once my club, “Bolac”, decided to put on a “you beaut” meal catered for by “Fabulous Feasts”, a company that supplied spit roast meals.  This caused a little consternation from the other clubs, for it had raised the bar somewhat and had set the standard for any future events.  
 
This situation was short lived, however, for before the next year’s competition was held, the Lion was incinerated.
 
With Willaura being the winning team, the “Lion” was given to Lion Nico, “The Laughing Dutchman”, for safe keeping.  Unfortunately, Nico’s house was burnt to the ground, with the “Lion” incinerated inside. 
 
Rather sadly, it was ordained that this would be the end of the inter zone games night.  Such a pity, because it was such a great event to bring all the Lions and their Lions Ladies in the surrounding clubs together.
 
Before I close, I must make mention of our Lions Ladies, who supplied all those lovely lunches and dinners we enjoyed over such a long period of time. Without their input there would have been a lot of hungry Lions prowling around the area.  Not a good thought, as it’s often said that you don’t get between a hungry lion and his meal!!!
 
 
David Lowing
November 2021

The air was balmy, with windows wound down on that February’s summer evening, darkness all around, as the three of us drove through the dust along the dirt Monimail road.  We could see, through the gloom, the tail lights of the utility travelling ahead of us, then briefly they disappeared as that sharp bend sharply came into vision and the old Holden ute slew sideways into the deep table drain, carved out over years of constant grading by the Windouran Shire’s old Cat grader.
​
The first impact was just like a sledgehammer had smashed into the passenger’s side of the ute, for it had slid side on into the deep shoulder of the built-up table drain. For a moment we just sat there, like stunned plovers, before Pete, who was driving, croaked out, “Are you both OK?”

We’d been drinking since early afternoon at the Pretty Pine Hotel, after spending the morning duck shooting at Balpool Station along the road to Moulamein, so I guess we were pretty sloshed at the time. “Duck”, (we all called John by his nickname, how he ever got stuck with that one I don’t know, but his brother Pete, said it came from their grandfather, who said, as a youngster, John just waddled like a duck), took the full blunt of the impact.  He was complaining that he’d broken his shoulder, which on X-ray proved to be true.  When we inspected the door the next day, there was a huge bend along the top of the window frame, where Duck’s shoulder had been impacted into it.  

Pete sat there, mumbling, “I just didn’t see that corner”.  I guess he wasn’t really to blame as it was a rather sharp” ninety degreer” in the dust and he’d only driven along that road on the way out this morning, for they both came from their farm on the Mornington Peninsula.

Luckily, the older blokes in the leading ute saw that our lights weren’t following, so decided to turn back, only to find us in this rather embarring situation. Fortunately, the vehicle was still drivable, so a chain was produced and in no time, we were dragged out.  Was it a lesson? Who knows, for it didn’t stop Pete driving at reckless speeds!

I haven’t seen Pete for ages, but the subject matter for this month caused me to remember “Duck” and Pete again.
 
David Lowing
August 2021

'What ever became of Howard?

You may well ask, who is Howard.

​Well, let me begin by explaining that he was the figment of a very fertile young boy’s imagination, he was his friend, mentor and protector from all things nasty!!!

Now we have done with the preliminaries, I'd better plump up his character. Howard was present during all day time activities.  Where ever that young lad was, so was Howard.  Any decision that was to be made, Howard was consulted, usually leading to much earnest discussion. Decisions were sometimes made quickly, such as "do we go inside now, because there’s cream cakes for smoko", or rather, "should we tarry a little before going in, what a stupid thought, inside we must go", or the more often varieties of decisions, such as the call inside for a bath, or such like, must be debated and you know these sort of decisions require quite a bit of thought. Often these discussions would be rudely interrupted by the mothercraft nurse, who would come storming out of the house, with all sorts of diabolical threats, if all those outside playing were not inside immediately.   

Now the main activity conducted by Messrs David and Howard was the great road and dam construction. I suppose this must have taken place at about the time that the Snowy Mountains Hydro Scheme was starting, in about the early 50’s. Outside our home was a large claypan, just the sort of place that you could really get down and build all things in the dirt; bridges, roads, channels and tunnels and, if it managed to rain, there was plenty of mud and water to fill up all those magnificent structures. Of course, there always was a very dusty or muddy little boy at the end of the day, who found his way into the bath, with the usual discussion, with Howard, of what went wrong or right with the day’s construction.

Oh well, such was a life living with Howard, you never really thought about one without him, for he was always sitting, standing, running or hiding alongside of you in all your waking moments and I dare say, most probably in your dreams as well.
 
Well, that was over seventy years ago, so what became of Howard? My guess is that he just faded away, as so many friends do, there one minute, to be replaced by some other more interesting thought or person, you know that’s the way of life!!!


David Lowing
​July 2021

As a child I often marvelled at the process of shearing a sheep and although I witnessed it on numerous occasions, I just couldn’t believe how smooth and clean the shearers managed to defleece a sheep.

Now cast your minds back to 1960 and imagine a thirteen year old lad standing on the board of a deserted shearing shed, with a pair of blade shears in his hand, cogitating on whether he should try his hand.  He’d seen it so many times before that he knew all the moves off by heart, there wasn’t anyone around and the groom had left the ration sheep in one of the catching pens, ready to dispatch them next day, so it’s now or never.

Now which one?  It’d better not be the big wether in the corner, he might fight to hard and I wouldn’t want to lose him in a half shorn state.  So, it had better be that nice second cross lamb, the one I knew was intended for the homestead’s kitchen, for Gran had visitors coming at the weekend and she didn’t want to serve up tough meat.

So here goes. I had sharpened the blades, just as I’d been taught, lent them against the post on the board and dived into the pen, too easy. The lamb didn’t put up much of a struggle and I turned him up and pulled him onto the board. Grabbing my shears, I commenced to take off the belly wool, then the rest of the fleece came off easily.  After letting him back in the pen, I admired my handy work.  Well, there were a few high spots and in places he looked lopsided, but shorn he was.

Then an awful thought came to mind.  What if the groom tells Granddad Tom about the shorn lamb, my god he’ll skin me alive!!  So, for the next few days I just waited for the “axe to fall”. Nothing happened and as I was going back to school in Geelong the following Monday, I just prayed that nothing would be mentioned. Come Monday morning, I was taken to the Deniliquin Railway Station, ready to catch the seven thirty train to Melbourne and beyond. Usually, my mother would drive me in, but not this day, it was to be my Grandfather, who had errands to run in town. Pretending that the shearing episode had not occurred, I just kept up my usual prattle on the drive in.  At the station, he helped me with my suitcase and put a ten bob note in my hand. His parting words were, “that was a pretty good first time shearing job you did last week and I’ll see you in a couple of weeks when you play cricket against Geelong Grammar”.  He usually came to see me play a couple of times a term.

The shearing story doesn’t end there. After finishing school in 1963, I was sent off to jackaroo for Sir Roy McCaughey at the Coonong Merino stud, near Jerilderie, and was fortunate to be given the job of looking after the Ram Sale rams, all 200 odd of them. Each year the Fitzsimmons brothers were contracted to blade shear the rams that were destined for the various ram sales that the stud attended each year.  Yours truly got the job of helping Jack and Jim during their stay at the property. I was to roustabout and keep the wool away from them after they finished each ram and turn the sandstone sharpening wheel, while they sharpened their shears, this took place at Smokos and lunch time. They were very professional at their job and since they also shore for my Grandfather, I had met them before. Both men, especially Jim, took a keen interest in me.  When I told him that I wanted to learn how to blade shear properly, he gave me plenty of pointers and would let me shear his last sheep at the end of each run.

Over the next few years, I regularly sheared the rams on the various stud properties that I worked on.  When I finally went back to my family property in nineteen eighty four, I took up blade shearing as an adjunct to my farm work. By this time, I had formed my own Sheep and Wool Consultancy business and was classing up to a hundred thousand sheep a year. However, in the year that I went home, I was at the Ballarat Sheep Show, where Sunbeam Australia held the Australian Blade Shearing Competition, so I entered, I never went anywhere without my blade shearing kit, for you never knew when you might need it!  Luck had it that I managed to win the Novice section. There were several Stud Masters watching on who I knew and I was swamped with people wanting me to shear for them. To cut a long story short, I then went off blade shearing professionally for the next twenty or so years, shearing all over Eastern Australia, shearing in about thirty studs’ sheds and at the peak, shearing three to four thousand rams and ewes a year.  My best tally was at Boonoke when I shore off 124 rams in the day.

SHEARING SHEDS THAT I HAVE BLADE SHORN IN.

1. BALLYDEAN & DANDBURY - URALLA
2. BANAVIE - MARNOO
3. BELBOURIE - MARNOO
4. BOONOKE - CONARGO
5. COONONG - JERILDERIE
6. DENILIQUIN STUD PARK – DENILIQUIN
7. EMMAVILLE - WEETHALLE
8. GLENDEMAR - MARNOO
9. GLENERA NORTH - HORSHAM
10. GOWENDALE - MARNOO
11. HINESVILLE - DENILIQUIN
12. KARMALA – LAKE BOLAC
13. KOORALONG – LAKE BOLAC
14. LONE PINE/SILVER PINES - JERILDERIE
15. LOWANA – COLEAMBALY
16. MUNGADAL - HAY
17. NINUENOOK – WYCHIPROOF
18. OAKBANK - MARNOO
19. OAKLEA - MARNOO
20. OLD COBRAN - DENILIQUIN
21. OLD DUNDEE - MARNOO
22. POOGINOOK - JERIDERIE
23. SHALIMAR PARK - WALCHA
24. TUPPAL CREEK - DENILIQUIN
25. UARDRY - HAY
26. WALLALOO PARK - MARNOO
27. WONGA - JERIDERIE
28. WILLURAH - CONARGO
29. WIRRENOURT - WILLAURA
30. WANGANELLA – WANGANELLA
31. ZARA – WANGANELLA
32. PEPINELLA - CONARGO

​I only entered the Australian Blade Shearing Championship twice again, nineteen ninety four and five, winning in ninety four and running second in ninety five.  My shearing days are long gone, arthritis and back problems have put an end to all that!!!!


David Lowing
June 2021
  

My early childhood, that is after I started remembering incidents, was made up of various pets, “Miaow” my cat, “Danny” and “Brownie”, the two sheep dogs that my Grandfather Tom had, “Creamy” my horse and an assortment of Bantams, Ducks and Chooks in general.

One of my earliest memories was the chook yard, where I had a favourite bantam rooster, which I called “Chookum”.  I never really found out what became of “Chookum”, but I fear he may have found the cooking pot in our kitchen.   My verbal announcement of the disappearance was forecast to all in sundry, with the words, “who tookum my Chookum?”.  This fell on deaf ears.   Apparently after it was realized that the son and heir’s favourite feathered friend wasn’t in the chook yard, the matter was considered better left alone and not discussed.   I sure did miss “Chookum”, for he was the only member of the chook yard I could hand feed.

Two of the first members of the canine race that entered my life were, “Danny” and Brownie”, sheep dogs by breed and training, the first a champion Border Collie and the other a rather nondescript Kelpie.  The dogs disliked each other with a vengeance and could be easily enticed to have a scrap, by just throwing gravel at them both.  Of course, they both thought that each had induced the situation and didn’t realize that one little boy had perpetrated the whole affair.
​
There was always much excitement when a visit was made to the “Rabbiting Packs” kennels; for in the late nineteen forties and fifties, rabbits had begun to overrun the whole countryside, so as to enforce the “Rabbit Act”, station owners were required to employ “Rabbiters”, who armed with a pack of rabbiting dogs, shovels, traps and poisons would set out daily to pursue and destroy the erstwhile bunny.  My Grandfather Tom employed a rather laconic Australian, who went by the name of “Bantam Jim”.  I never knew his surname, but I used to follow Jim, sticking to his trail as limpets stick to a rock, for I always knew that there would be some excitement happening during the day some time.  Jim was the fellow that taught me songs and one of the earlier ones was a little ditty that went thus, “Cigarettes and Whisky and wild, wild women, they’ll drive you crazy, they’ll drive you insane”.  Of course, my Grandmother Ruth would run around telling me not to sing those terrible songs and have my Grandfather say something to Jim, who’d not be very happy. Since Jim was a good mate, I did not want him to get into trouble with the boss, so of course, I complied.  As the Rabbiting Pack was made up of both dogs and bitches, there was always plenty of fighting and squabbling amongst the pack, especially when a bitch was “in season” and all of the dogs were trying to “mate” with her.  Of course, the inevitable would happen, two would be “knotted”, so much delight would be had by a little boy throwing buckets of water over them both.   I don’t really know what result was achieved by this, except that both the dogs and a little boy were thoroughly wet to the skin.

My first venture into high finance reared its head during this period in my life, for I had learned how to trap rabbits, skin them, then string the skins onto a bow of eight-gauge wire.  Dried skins fetched a shilling a pound and good quality rabbits were sold to the local butcher for seven and six a pair. Another money-making enterprise was to walk around the paddocks with a chaff bag and pluck all the wool of any unfortunate sheep that happened to have put its four feet into the air; wool was worth a few bob in those years’ of the early to mid-fifties.  So, my bank balance grew!!!!!! 
 
David Lowing
June 2021

The title in my mind is too narrow, for in my case it should be, ‘The Life that Made Me’, for there has not really be a defining year in my life to date!!!

I suppose I could define my life as one of volunteering service to the community, as it was in the beginning whilst at school, door knock collecting for such organisations as Red Cross, Save the Children, or the Salvation Army; or in my late teens, the holidays that I spent taking charge of disadvantage youth for their fourteen day sea-side trip to the Melbourne Lord Mayors Camp at Portsea. Volunteering for various Country Show Societies, Horse Racing Clubs, or other sporting clubs.
 
I always had a special place in my heart for people with disabilities, especially those who suffered cognitive problems.  In 1984, I was invited to join the Board of Directors at Yallambie Deniliquin, a special centre for people in South Western Riverina who were suffering this terrible infliction, a position I held for eight years.  Unfortunately I had to resign because of my move to Lake Bolac in the Western District.
 
Whilst in Lake Bolac, I became a member of Lions Clubs International and am still today. Due to my moving around, I am now at my sixth Lions Club and as you know, the motto of Lions is “We Serve”.
 
After selling my property at Lake Bolac, I moved into Ararat, where once again an opportunity was afforded to me, in the guise of an Independent Third Person with the Victorian Office of the Public Advocate and as an Independent Person with the Victorian Council of Multiculturism and Youth. Both these positions are with the Victorian Police, who must have an Independent person present at interviews with persons with cognitive disabilities and with youth between eleven and seventeen years of age. Over the next ten to eleven years, I was required to sit in on some forty to fifty interviews per annum. My region of responsibility covered an area from Ararat to the South Australian border, in police stations such as Ararat, Stawell, St Arnaud, Horsham, Hamilton, Portland and Edenhope. However, as Ararat had a large population of people suffering from cognitive problems, following the closure of the Aradale Lunatic Asylum in 1992, most of the inmates were housed in Group Homes in Ararat or the Corella Place, a forty apartment facility connected to the Hopkins Correctional Centre, most of my activity was near home.  I had volunteered for a 24/7/52 timeline, so I quite often received calls at times between midnight and six am, which was not so bad.  However, if I had to get up and leave for Portland, a three-hour drive through “furry marsupial” country awaited me, which was a little daunting. However, the police did not call me out unless it was important.  In ninety percent of cases it was to mentor and witness for youth.
 
I will not meander my life’s journey any longer, as I’ve reached my allotted 500 words and I could easily double this!
 
There is a Curriculum Vitae at the bottom of my “Someone who shaped me” story, on my David Lowing page: google https//u3abenalla.weebly.com/david-lowings-page , if anyone is interested.
 
David Lowing
23 May 2021

My maternal grandfather, Thomas Millear, who in fact was my mentor and “father”, not that my biological father was present during my life, but he was the greatest influence on my life until he died, when I was sixteen.

His advice and humanitarianism made a profound impression on me and moulded me into what I am today.

There were times that I often wondered what he was trying to pass on, but it was not until much later in life, “that the penny dropped” and all was clear!

He was the one to encourage me to participate in community service, as he did, which was very obvious, as he was always doing something for others, whether it was helping young, returned servicemen buy a farm or supplying the local school head students with a blazer, paying for country students to attend the Melbourne Lord Mayor's Camp at Portsea, buying sporting equipment for youngsters etc. This last situation was caused by his friendship with the Late Lt General Leslie Morehead, who was a teacher at the Melbourne Grammar School when he was a student there. Morehead was on the initial committee that started the camp in 1945 and from 1964 to 1968, I accompanied young boys and girls from the Riverina area and acted as troop leader for ten days during my annual holidays.

I suppose my most vivid memory of him was seeing him standing beside a commercial canning machine that he had installed in the old laundry at our home, “Deniliquin Stud Park”, meticulously overseeing the production of cans of food destined for war torn London, before immersing them in the huge copper, which always seemed to be bubbling away in the corner.
He had at the beginning of the WW2 volunteered for active duty, but due to the fact, that he was in his late 40’s and the proprietor of one of the major merino sheep studs, which was required to keep the wool industry alive, was refused, however a first war friendship with the English Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, led him to form a “Food for Britain” campaign and from 1940 until 1953, he weekly canned whatever food he could gather, not only from his own extensive garden, but friends or whoever would support his venture. I remember well the trips to town with his pallet load of food to be dropped off at the Deniliquin railway station, destined for the Melbourne wharfs.

After the war he was offered a Knighthood by King Edward V, but refused stating that, he was only doing what he could for “King and Country”.

In 1953, he and my Grandmother Ruth, made a trip back to England to catch up with friends, many being those families that his food parcels during those horrific times. However, there was one secret kept from him, for he was not one to accept accolades or commendations easily, but prior to their trip, my Uncle Ned Herring, [Lord Chief Justice of Victoria – 1944 to 1964 and Lt Governor of Victoria – 1944 to 1972] had been informed by the Lord Mayor of the City of London, that he was to have the “Keys of the City of London” bestowed upon him and this was, at all costs, to be kept from him. When the time arrived and my Grandmother regaled in telling the story, he was informed by gran, that he had to dress for dinner, that is black tie and tails, to which he replied, why, we are only going down to the hotel’s dining room!!! She then informed him that they were invited out for dinner this night and a car would be there to collect them shortly, “End of story” as far as gran was concerned!!

Well, you most probably can guess the rest, the said vehicle collected them and conveyed them to the London Guild’s Hall, where they were greeted by the Lord Mayor and Councillors and as they say in the classics, “The rests history”.
 
There are so many other instances of life growing up with this giant of a man, he was a lateral thinker, who definitely looked outside the square so to speak and this was shown by his actions after the first world war.

For in 1918 my grandfather Thomas Millear hadn’t come directly home from the first war, for during the Battle of Passchendaele near Ypres, he was badly gassed with Mustard gas, which led to his repatriation to a hospital in London and upon his release he was invalided with the Lady Randolph Churchill’s, mother of Winston Churchill, for she and her late husband Lord Randolph Churchill, had been close friends of my Great Grandfather.

After his recovery, he chose to further his education in the wool industry by spending several years working with the woollen industry in Yorkshire, especially in and around the Bradford area. His claim was, that any wool producer, if they wanted to really learn about the product they produced, should go to the end source of their product and learn what the trade required of them in the production of wool. He also felt as that he was close to the mills etc at that period [1918] that purchased Australian wool; he should make the effort in learning more about his industry.
 
Where do you end when writing about the person who helped shape me, it’s always a conundrum, but I guess with brevity in mind, this would be as good as ever!!!!

David Lowing
​April 24, 2021