Dear Mr.O’Shannessy,
             
I am writing on behalf of the Governor-General to inform you that you are being considered for the award of the  Medal of the Order of Australia……….

These were the words which hit me after I opened the letter from the Governor-General’s office in April 2013.   I was to go from “anticipation vibes” to “good vibes” in a matter of seconds.

Towards the conclusion  of the letter were the words …”After the Governor-General has considered all the proposed awards, I shall advise you of the outcome….” 

The anticipation vibes returned.

On May 28th  my   worries disappeared with the advice  “your award… ..has been approved by the Governor- General.”.. There was great jubilation. Very “good vibrations”.

The award was announced in the Queen’s  Birthday honors list on 10th June, and I was the subject of many phone calls, cards, and personal well wishes. Letters were received from the Victorian Governor, the Premier and more politicians than I knew existed, from the north-eastern area of the state. I even received a congratulatory letter from Latrobe University who were claiming me as an alumni after having studied one solitary subject at it’s Bendigo campus.

Friday 1st November was to be the investiture date at the Victorian Government house, with Governor Eric Churnov officiating. I was allotted “three Entrée Cards for yourself  and two guests.” The letter added  .. “we are unable to meet any requests for additional guests”. 

Bad vibes.  I have a wife and four children and only two tickets. Who do I invite? How  could I not offend someone? Fortunately the boys were not interested in formalities and so weren’t phased about  attending . However, the girls, in their own little way, made it obvious that each of them expected to attend.  Problems!

In desperation I phoned Government House and spoke to a very understanding lady, (Wendy). She advised me to put my problem in writing to the Governor, which I did. Several days later I received unobstrusively in the mail, a third Entrée Card with only a handwritten note “herewith an extra Entrée Card”.             How grateful I was!  Family harmony had been saved!

Investiture day was a lovely sunny day. Guests were to be seated in the main hall, while recipients were to assemble in an adjourning dining room, prior to investiture.  We were seated in alphabetical order, and I had the privilege to be seated beside Ross Oakley, former CEO of the prior VFL and then AFL. He also played football with the St.Kilda football club.  As I am a St.Kilda fan we chatted.

The Investiture went swimmingly and everyone gathered in the main hall afterwards, prior to  nibblies and a drink, and an inspection of the Government House surrounds.

We met Cadel Evans, Tour de France winner and OAM recipient and obtained his autograph on replicas of his riding shirts, which son Anthony, and son-in-law Heath had provided in anticipation.

In the evening, the whole O’Shannessy clan, grandchildren and all, celebrated at a restaurant in Springvale Road.


Ray O’Shannessy OAM
September 2017.                        
 

I always have good vibes, or good vibrations, when I am with my family.

I was not raised in a traditional family environment, and honestly, I have always envied those who have been. I have sorely missed contact with my parents and with my siblings.

I now have a family of my own, a wife, 2 sons, and 2 daughters. I love them all unreservedly and indeed am very proud of them and I like to skite about them and their achievements. Doing so always gives me good vibrations.

So here goes.

My wife has been a marvellous company and  mother who has attended to all the children’s requirements from the baby years to their adulthood.  She was affectionately  known as a legend at FCJ College for her numerous years’  service in the uniform shop and as co-ordinator of the Debutante  Ball.  She was awarded the Sandhurst Diocesan Community Service Award for her  service at Galen College Wangaratta. She has been awarded a Paul Harris Fellowship at Rotary.

My children all graduated at university and have done remarkably well in their careers.

I am proud to say that Anthony, our eldest boy, was sent to Switzerland for two years in his employment with ABB Engineering, and now  holds the position of Chief Financial Officer with a large  Victorian Corporation, the Melbourne Water Board. In his youth he excelled in football and squash, and still plays squash.

Peter, our second child holds the position of Chief Financial Officer of the Cranbourne Racing Club and Trio’s Restaurant and gaming organisation, also in the Cranbourne complex. He played, for many years, football and basketball.

Our eldest daughter Jacki, married a wool grower and attends to all the farm accounts and acts as a farmwife. She and her husband Heath won the “Best Fleece” award in the lamb’s section of the 2017 Victorian Wool Show. Jacki also works as office manager for the Royal Hotel in Benalla. She is a netball and basketball enthusiast.

Cathy, our youngest, was awarded the Galen College Award for Excellence in her last year of secondary education. After spending two years in a managerial role for Brown. Brothers Winery in London, she has now settled in as senior marketing director for  the Charles Sturt University in Albury. She, too, concentrated on netball and basketball.

We have now been blessed with ten grandchildren, five girls and five boys, and the good vibrations become even better at Christmas, when the whole O’Shannessy family gathers at our home for special celebrations.

It is great to see  our children all accept parental roles in their own children’s sporting and other activities, and I sincerely trust that they all have long and happy family associations.

Good vibrations mean different things to different people, and I hope I have indicated how they mean so much to me  in my family life.
 
Ray O’Shannessy.
September 2017.                                                        

​I used to be an ardent lawn bowler back in the days before I became an octogenarian.

In September 1957, whilst boarding at The Carriers’ Arms Hotel in Wodonga, I was encouraged to join the Wodonga Bowls Club. Surprisingly, I learned early, that I had potential to become a relatively good bowler. In my first year I was selected, occasionally, as a member in the club’s top pennant team in the Ovens and Murray Association.

As the youngest member of the club, (I was  25 years of age, while other members were in their fifties, sixties and seventies, some even older) the coach and my skipper took me under their wings. They took me with them regularly to tournaments in the surrounding districts of a Sunday, after having played pennant on Saturdays. We were often successful in winning the tournament.

I particularly recall one tournament at Gerogery, a small country club which did not have overhead lights. Our rink was playing off in the finals at dusk. We progressed to the grand final and it became so dark that the skipper had to strike a match to show players the location of the “kitty”. What an experience! Our side won!

On joining the Benalla Bowls Club in 1963 I was a regular player in their top Ovens and Murray team. I held my place for some fifteen to twenty years. We never won a premiership but played off in the grand final on three occasions.

Benalla, because of doubt of our future in the Ovens and Murray Association , entered a team in the Goulburn Valley Association. I was selected and we were runners-up in our one and only year.

On returning from the Goulburn Valley Association I was relegated and played the rest of my bowling career in a lower grade. We won three premierships and played in several finals. In the lower grade there were only three rinks in a team.  1984/85 was a memorable year. We were playing in the grand final at Corowa on a very hot Sunday afternoon. The other two rinks in our team were defeated. Our rink, having been down zero to seven after 2 ends went on to win 48 to 13. A big enough victory to claim the premiership!

For many  years  I played Country-week bowls  in Melbourne with mixed success. I have played finals in the  “pairs” and “fours”. Our best effort was to be in the final four of the state. On that occasion the finals were to be played at Drouin  some two weeks later. Unfortunately on that date our skipper had a non-negotiable business commitment  and had to withdraw. The rest is history.

In January 2014 I sustained a fractured pelvis in a fall doing “meals on wheels”, and I use that as an excuse for retiring from bowls. To be truly honest, my pride won’t accept the fact that I can no longer bowl as well as I used to.
​
Over many years I have been diligent in the administration of the club, and have been awarded a Club “life membership” for my efforts. I have also received RVBA recognition for” Fifty Years Continuous Membership.”
 
Ray O’Shannessy
October 2017g

I used to own and operate the Benalla Coin Laundrette.

Back in  1971  my wife and I purchased, as an adjunct to our other business activities, the Benalla  Coin Laundrette. At that time it featured  a diesel operated hot water service, four washing machines, and two clothes driers. The opening hours were 6 a.m. until 10 p.m.

After some years’ activities we converted the hot water system to gas, and purchased eight up-grade Maytag washing machines and four driers. The business was not overly profitable, but it did enable us to pay for two new cars and provide the children with pocket money.

We engaged the Benalla Security Service to open and close the shop at these times. When we would go on holidays it was our practice to engage my bowls skipper, Bill Bryce, to attend to the cleaning and collection of the takings.

The duties involved an early morning rise, so that we could wash the floor and clean up all the equipment after the previous day’s activities. This would take up to an hour per morning. Because of Bernadette’s child minding responsibilities, I would generally do this work. One night a week we would collect the takings. Usually the premises would be quite dirty. The main problem being the activity of youth vandalism. The premises were next door to a fish and ship shop and, after school of a day time, school children would assemble and sit on the seats of the laundrette. It would amuse them to sprinkle soap powder (readily available) in the machines and the coin functions of the machines. Sometimes, after some school kid frolicking, we would find girl’s knickers dangling from the ceiling rafters. Because of this activity it was occasionally necessary to clean up the shop of a late evening.

It was often necessary to engage tradesmen to maintain the equipment. Although not technically minded, I found that I became  quite adept at the maintenance of the coin machines.

The busiest time of the year would be  Benalla Show days, when   show people would back up their utes to the front door and unload what seemed like tons of soiled attire, sheets and so on.
Because the machines were coin operated we had a mutually satisfactory arrangement with the fish shop next door to provide the necessary coins.

It came to our notice, not long into our occupancy, that the night watchman shirked his responsibilities by not locking the premises of a night, but by merely turning the light off. This meant that he did not have to open the premises again in the morning. We thought better of taking him to task.

After operating the laundrette for a number of years we decided that the daily commitment was too much of a bind. We had a good relationship with our machine maintenance man, and, after seventeen years of operation, we sold the business to him for a very reasonable (to him) price.
 
Ray O’Shannessy.                       
​499 words.

“Fish out of Water” means to me  “out of one’s depth”.

Many people at some stage in their lives find themselves in this situation.

It is a matter of how one handles it.

I believe that in acting positively one can generally escape the situation, and I think that, in my own many such occasions, I have tried to do so
.
Except that in one set of circumstances, I am completely overwhelmed. That is I.T.  Information Technology!  And that is where I am a “fish out of water”!

In my early stage of business, my partner and I followed the trend and purchased a computer. It was really an advanced bookkeeping machine which in the early 1970s cost us $24,000. RThere were no providers in Benalla  so we went to Shepparton. There had been a lot of rain , and coming home, the Shepparton road was flooded, so we had to take the Dookie detour. It was also flooded,  but we drove through the flood waters, with the water lapping the door handles.

The computer was a great adjunct to our business and we had girls specialising in the operation of it, so that until the end of my working days I had a secretary operating mine. I gained no experience. This was so even though computers became much smaller and almost everybody in the office had their own. I had always been a reasonable typist so I could handle the “word” program, but that is my limit.

Since retiring I have attended short courses at TAFE but between lessons I never practised, so all I learnt was soon forgotten.
​
Only today I was typing “my career went bung”. Had reached more than 200 words, and yes! I lost the lot.  After a number of expletives  and  numerous  attempts  at retrieval, I gave up, deeming that it was providence.

While I am writing this essay, the mobile phone rings. It is my wife’s phone but she is not in. I shuffle and swipe the face of it, but I cannot answer it. It stops ringing. I have missed the call!  I have been to U3A Tech-Savvy courses and have been taught how to handle a mobile phone, but still it is beyond me.

An e-mail comes to hand which requires a reply and two attachments.  I can handle the e-mail, but the attachments??...I need help!  Not only can’t I do the attachments, I can’t get out of the damn program!

This computer, only two years old, is not user friendly, and is possibly my worst ever purchase. I have had occasion to call in a computer expert  on a couple of occasions but find that he talks too fast and his words go right over my head.

The computer is my nemesis.


Ray O'Shannessy
September 2017

​Ever since my mother’s death, from cancer, when I was 4 years old, I have been the “odd one out”.  My father’s sisters’ decision that he could not adequately look after his young family meant that I was to live the life of an orphan, and I lived with the inevitable feeling that “I don’t belong”.
 
Because one of my aunts, on my father’s side, was one of the hierarchy of nuns at the Mercy Convent in Ballarat, I was to be accommodated at its subsidiary boys’ boarding school ”Villa Maria” also at Ballarat East.
 
Other students were the sons of solicitors , doctors, accountants, publicans, and farmers whose properties were too far from schools. (There were no school buses in those days). I was “the odd one out”.
 
At Easter, all the kids went home for holidays – all except me and my brother, who was 2 years older than me.  We were “the odd ones out”.
 
On finishing primary school I was awarded a scholarship which entitled me to tutorial and accommodation at St.Patrick’s College also in Ballarat.
 
At St.Pat’s I found that, because I was such a small child, ( at age 14, I was 5 stone in weight) I played football with kids much younger than me.  Again “the odd one out”! To make matters worse, unlike the others, I wore a football guernsey knitted by my aunt. You may well imagine that this differed significantly from the “bought” guernseys the other kids wore. I was a stand out in the field, not because of my ability but because of that damned Guernsey.
 
On leaving school, I obtained a job in Benalla and, as a youth, I was very shy in the company of girls. While  many of my mates had girl friends, I was a loner. Again. The “odd one out”.
 
Much later in my life, after being married at age 34, (an “odd one out”) I commenced studying and found myself as a “mature aged student” studying with , at one stage, teenagers, and later with 20 year olds. There was a notable difference  in our attitudes to study.
 
As a young man I commenced playing lawn bowls at Wodonga. I was aged 26 years, while the other bowlers were men in their sixties, seventees and over. This was an education for which I am very grateful. As a result of this venture I have now been playing bowls for nearly sixty years, and  am in receipt of  a certificate to indicate my fifty years bowling. “Odd one out”.
 
After many years as a member of the Benalla bowls club I received a “life membership”.  ”Odd one out”.
 
Over a lifetime I have been deeply involved in community affairs and in the Queen’s birthday  awards of 2013 I received an Order of Australia Medal.  ”Odd one Out”.
 
In summary, being the Odd One Out in my childhood certainly had its drawbacks, but as life went on there were compensations.
 
Ray O’Shannessy.
29 July 2017

As a motherless four year old, I was stolen from my father and older brother by a loveless aunt and a (thankfully), wonderful uncle, and taken to their extensive farm.

My first act of rebellion was to attempt, not once but twice, to run away on my three wheeled trike.  Not once, but twice, my attempt was thwarted before I had even pedalled some hundred yards.

It had probably been pre-arranged, but the next I knew was that I was transported to the care of nuns at Villa, a home/boarding school at Ballarat. Sisters of Mercy!  What crap!

I endured the sisters for just on eight years, until I got my “Merit Cartificate”.

Occasionally we went swimming at Lake Wendouree, and my swimming attire was Aunty Mary’s one piece swimming suit.  How embarrassing!  One day I snuck away and disposed of the dreaded attire in some bushes, claiming to the nuns that I had lost it.  My act of rebellion!  I was so pleased with myself that I don’t recall the consequences.

I then completed my secondary education at St. Pat’s College, also in Ballarat and joined the workforce in Benalla.

I obtained board at the home of a lovely couple who put on  a surprise 21st birthday for me.

Not long after this I learnt to drink beer and, one night, while  the couple were away for a few days, I had some friends around and we had a small party. The neighbours were quick to tell the couple on their return, and I was evicted!

In time I transferred to St.Arnaud, and then Wodonga, where I worked my guts out, working till 11.30 p.m. of a week night.  Although I say it myself, I had developed a wonderful work ethic. At the same time I was boarding at a hotel, and as was common in those days, there was no such thing as 6 o’clock closing. Drink was available until 11 p.m. every day, including Sunday, so I succumbed.

Nevertheless, I retained my work ethic, and one fateful day, when my manager, the “Boss,” arranged with a salesman to do a stock deal which was outside the parameter of the Company’s province, I refused to counter- sign the offending cheque. My act of rebellion! To his credit, the boss didn’t ask another officer for his signature, but referred the issue to the Managing Director in Melbourne. Some tense days! Was I in trouble?

I don’t recall the immediate consequence, but I do recall that the boss and I still got on reasonably well together.  Eventually a letter arrived from the Managing Director authorising me, or instructing me, to append my signature to the cheque.  No comment as to whether or not I was in the bad books.

However, time heals all, and within several months I was appointed to the position of Assistant Internal Auditor for the Company and its 14 country branches.  I believe the decision I had taken had been vindicated!
​
Ray O’Shannessy
June 2017
 
499 words.

​In 2007 our daughter Cathy was promoted to a managerial role in London. After some months, although living in a comfortable flat close to Windsor Castle, she was ‘missing home’ so we decided to visit her.

In the first few days we settled in with her, then she was able to take time off.

We first visited the university town of Oxford and were impressed with all the history and the historic college buildings.

We then went “overseas” to France and settled into a small hotel which was very close to the Arc de Triomphe. Among the many notable buildings we visited were the Eiffel Tower, The Louvre, the Hotel des Invalides (where Napoleon’s coffin lies), the Chateau de Versailles, and the Notre Dame Cathedral. On visiting the cathedral, we joined a queue which we believed was to get inside. Our mistake; it was a queue to climb the tower!  And so, after climbing 263 steps, I was exhausted. Nevertheless, it was an outstanding view of Paris. On climbing down again, Cathy shouted me a much deserved beer.

We next flew to Barcelona where we were overwhelmed by the architecture and artwork of Gaudi. The highlight was a visit to the Sagrada Familia Cathedral. It had been in the course of erection for many decades and looked like it was still decades from completion.  It is the most magnificent cathedral I have ever seen.

In Barcelona we experienced difficulty with the language and in finding a suitable restaurant. In fact, English was not generally spoken and it just was not possible to read a menu. It was all guesswork. At one café we thought we had ordered cooked potatoes with our meal and were presented with a packet of chips. The imagined meat was a queer presentation of small fishy smelling objects, which on a later interpretation, turned out to be “cockles” as in “Cockles and muscles Ahoy, Ahoy …oh”. They tasted terrible!

The next move was a flight to Ireland. We landed in Dublin and hired a car, which Cathy had difficulty in even getting started. A lady walked past wearing a “Dublin Airport” uniform. When asked a question she gave a typical Irish answer “I’m not in today”. Only in Ireland!

We travelled north to Belfast, then to Londonderry, or “Derry” as it is generally known. We saw the many murals and the monument to “Bloody Sunday”. It was an eerie feeling and I kept looking over my shoulder, fearful of the IRA, as we were encroaching on their territory. We visited many little hamlets and the majestic Giant’s Causeway. We finally settled in a comfy B&B in Portrush.

After dinner we visited a local pub and had a Guinness. We were advised that there would be more activity at another near-by pub where the students visited, so we went there and came up with a surprise for Cathy. Dad didn’t finish a beer! The students were all drinking a beer called Harp, and I’m afraid I couldn’t stomach it.

We then went back to Dublin and flew out to Heathrow, then back to Cathy’s  little flat in Windsor.

All in all, a wonderful sojourn!

In April/May 1988 I experienced a stint of 4 weeks hospitalisation in St.Vincents Hospital, Melbourne and Bethesda Melbourne. On  discharge  I returned to work in my accountancy practice in Bridge Street Benalla and worked from 10.a.m. until 2 p.m. for some time.

When I knocked off at 2 p.m , I would, on my way home, call into St.Joseph’s church for a quick visit. One day I found the cloth on the altar had been set alight.  I was there! The altar was constructed of marble and the surrounds were all tiles, so there was no chance of the fire spreading. I promptly extinguished the fire and went to the Presbytery, or the Parish House as it is now known, to advise the clergy. There were then three priests sharing control of the parish, a change from the old fashioned Monsignor O’Rielly who ruled the parish on his own.  None of the priests were present; Kate McCormack was there voluntarily painting the interior of one of the rooms.  I suggested to her that she should advise the priests, who I expected to contact the  police.

The next day, when I was on my way to the church, I noticed a large black cloud of smoke billowing from the church  in front of me. The arsonist had struck again!  The whole church was alight!  It took some time, but even with the attendance of the town’s volunteer fire brigade, the church was completely gutted. Miraculously, the stained glass window  behind the altar was unharmed, but the church itself was nothing but a shell.

There was great consternation among the clergy and the parishioners, and a restructuring committee was quickly  formed under the guidance of Greg Dore as chairman.  Jim Smith, my business partner, anxious to raise quick funds, suggested an auction of 20 numbered certificates bearing a photo of the church and appropriate wording. The auction was  soon held with John Boyd acting as auctioneer. With a large crowd in attendance the NO 1 certificate was purchased by the St.Joseph’s cricket club for  a handy sum. The  NO 2 certificate was purchased by Bernadette and myself for a sum in excess of $300. A considerable amount was raised.

The insurance company paid for a large part of the restructure, but there was a short fall. Consequently the pipe organ , which had cost many thousand dollars, was not replaced, and the slate tile roof was replaced by colorbond, a fact which riled a number of parishioners. Because of the short fall, there was still need for an appeal, which quickly made up the difference. In times of need parishioners were particularly generous.

The church was unavailable for the conduct of services for many months and the Anglican Church , in a generous euchaminical gesture, allowed the Catholics to use Holy Trinity Church on significant occasions, such as weddings and funerals. For our regular Sunday Masses the St.Joseph’s School  hall was used.
 

Ray O'Shannessy
​May 16, 2017

On 1st November 2013  ‘I was there’ at Government House in Melbourne where the Governor of Victoria, Alex Churnov, presented me with the Order of Australia Medal which I had been awarded in the Queen’s Birthday honours of 10th June.

The prelude to the Presentation  was that I had been advised on 10th April, by the Governor General’s office in Canberra, that I was being considered for an Order of Australia Medal , (O.A.M.), ‘For Service to the Community of Benalla’ and if I was prepared to accept it, I should sign an acceptance  form and a confidentiality agreement .This, I was only too happy to do.

On 28th May I received a further letter from Canberra confirming the award. I was to keep the award secret from anybody, until a press release had been made on the Queen’s birthday, Monday 10th June. How difficult was this! I was highly excited.

My grandson, Darcy was celebrating his 10th birthday on Sunday 9th June at our place, and the whole extended O’Shannessy family was in attendance. I thought that it was an appropriate time to break the silence, and so made the announcement to my family. They were all very happy..

Once the news was published I was overwhelmed by the many cards and messages of congratulations. At Rotary I made the statement “Humble …be damned. I am proud”.

Then the presentation date was to be organised, and here I had a problem. Because of the large numbers of recipients, the number of guests was limited to two family members  each. No additional entrees would be issued!...... I have a wife and four children; five into two won’t go!  Fortunately the two boys were not concerned about attending, but my two girls, in their own little way, indicated that they, individually, expected to attend. How could I avoid offending one of them?   I’m not one to be persuasive, but I rang Government house and spoke to a very understanding lady. I followed this up with a letter to Canberra, and unobstrusively, a few days later, an extra ticket arrived in the mail.  All had been saved!

There was great joy when I advised that the three women of my family could attend the presentation.

On perusing the list of recipients, my son and my son-in-law noted that Cadel Evans, the winner of the Tour de France, had also been awarded an O.A.M. They each purchased a Cadel Evans shirt for me to obtain his signature on!.

On the morning of Friday 1st November, my daughter Cathy arrived from Wodonga and drove the other three of us to Government House to arrive by 10 a.m., the stipulated time. Guests assembled in the large Hall, while recipients gathered in the adjoining dining room. We were seated in alphabetical order and I sat with Ross Oakley, a former St.Kilda footballer and former C.E.O. of the VFL and AFL.

All recipients then took our turn to be presented with our medallions by the Governor, and to have our photos taken with him.

It was, indeed, a memorable occasion.
 
Ray O’Shannessy
15 May 2017

October 2nd 1993 was to be a memorable day in my life.  It was the wedding day of our first born, our son Anthony.  The wedding was conducted at St.John’s Catholic Church in Mitcham and the reception which was in Blackburn. This wedding was the forerunner to 3 delightful grandchildren, his 2 year working stint in Switzerland, a  big job in Docklands as CFO for the Melbourne Water Board, and upwards to $1.5m house in Warrandyte.

We had a wonderful night and drove home the next evening, fully satisfied with our life. As we drove home past the Benalla golf club, Bernadette noted that there had obviously been a lot of rain. Little did we know that the following day would also be memorable.  Why?

At 12.30 a.m. on Monday 4th October, the phone disturbed my sound sleep, for Tony Smith, my business partner’s son, to advise me that the police had phoned him to warn of an impending flood, and that our business premises were in danger. Get down there fast!

By 1.30 Tony and I, working in the office, had lifted everything ponderable to a height which we believed to be above any pending flood level.  Oh yeah? The flood came through 10 minutes later at a height above desk level. Our estimate was sadly too low. Papers and files, which we considered to be safe, were inundated. So too, were our computers and all floor level furnishings.

I managed to beat the flood at the gardens, and arrived home safe and sound at about 1.45 am. Our house is situated in the highest area in Benalla so we did not experience the flooding which so many householders endured.

The morning revealed that a great portion of Benalla was awash. Bernadette’s brother Gilbert and his family, (Dunlop Place), her sister Denise, (Walker Street) had been evacuated during the night and were accommodated  at the Technical School hall. The bowling club house, (my second home) was flooded to a record high, as were the bowling greens.

Because of the flooded river, we were unable to get back down to the office for 2 days and did not re-open for business for a further 3 weeks, during which time we uprooted our carpets and burnt many files of damaged accounting records .It was  a good opportunity to dispose of many, many old records. We sent 12 boxes of clients’ current records to Melbourne to be dried out. This  drying cost  us $100 each  small carton. Our furnishings were not covered for flood insurance, but marvellously, our computers were!  Although there was no accounting work done,  we continued to pay unemployed staff. With our furnishings and carpets losses, three weeks of nil production, and records’ drying fees, we incurred a significant financial loss.

Many businesses and home owners were denied insurance payouts because of a technicality in the interpretation of “storm damage” and “flood damage”. However, a very active group of victims took issue with the Insurance companies, and although it took years, many did receive compensation.


Ray O'Shannessy
May 2017
 
513 words.

On a very hot 5th day of February 1951, as a relatively young, and relatively new comer to Benalla, I was sitting at my desk  in the VPC office doing my clerical duties, when I heard, first, the fire siren, and then the fire bell, sound. The fire bell indicated that the fire was a bush fire, not a town house fire.

I quickly went to the front door and saw much activity in the street. It was soon obvious that this was not a small fire. People and cars and utes were frantically moving about. The fire was obviously more than the task of the volunteer brigades. Every able bodied male was being asked to volunteer.

Naturally I joined in, and somehow or other I found myself in a utility owned by two, 20 something year old brothers, the Smith boys. We were quickly out onto  the Kilfera Road, ahead of the fire.

I don’t’ recall whether we had fire beaters or just wheat bags but we were soon fighting the flames which were advancing on the road. A weatherboard church stood in the path of the fire.

The fire seemed to gain momentum and was advancing rapidly.  There was no doubt that it was going to cross the road at the point where we and the utility were stationed. In a hurry we sheltered behind the utility and, whoosh, before we knew it, the fire had travelled over the utility over us, and was proceeding, at a great pace, away in the distance. It was momentary. There was no time for fear or panic; everything happened so quickly.

​We looked around us. The fence had gone. We looked in front of us; the tinder dry church was a smouldering ruin, as were the fence posts. We were miraculously unharmed. The fire had gone over the top of us.

The fire  continued on its way and proceeded to destroy 30,000 acres of grass and wooded country; 12 homes, 320 miles of fencing, 8671 sheep, 121 cattle,  583 poultry, 24 pigs, 8 horses,2522 tons of hay, 61 tons of chaff, 2110 new  unused fence posts, and numerous miscellaneous articles. Estimated cost 168,000 pounds, which was a lot of money in those days. Regrettably one life was lost. This was a disaster.

To this day I do not know how we survived.

In the aftermath,  the community soon gathered to  offer assistance to the victims. There was a continuous round of fundraising. Dances were held in all the country halls around the district to help raise funds, and I was nearly danced out. There were street stalls, fetes and every conceivable form of fund raising.

Much later in life I became friendly with two Smith  farming brothers from the same area; but the fire had apparently disappeared from our memories, and,  even if it was the same pair, the fire was never discussed.
 
Ray O'Shannessy
489 words.

Failure can be devasting! Depends on how you accept  it. But failure can also be motivating, and bring eventual success.

Failure was prominent in my life. Not only my own failures, but those of others.

The most significant failure in my life was that of my father, who, on my mother’s death when I was 4 years old, failed to prove to his sisters that he could look after his young family. The devasting result was that  my 6 year old brother and I were taken from him and placed in the care of nuns at Villa Maria in Ballarat East. This led to a somewhat unhappy childhood for both of us.

Notwithstanding, I had some success in winning a scholarship which provided me with 4 years secondary education at St.Patrick’s boarding college in Ballarat.

During that education, although an achieving student throughout the school year, the external examinations at year end proved to be my undoing. Arguably, because of nerves, I consistently failed these, with the result that I never studied for matriculation.

On entering the work force as a clerk with a stock and station agent, I diligently applied myself to the job in hand, to the extent that while in Wodonga I was in the habit of working until 11.30 at night for 4 days per week. I suffered from nervous debility and a neurologist in Wagga Wagga advised me to study to be an accountant and to work for myself.

I was promoted to be assistant auditor and worked in the Head Office of the company in joint charge of the company’s 14 branches’ accounts.

However, I was not happy in my job and felt that if I had been given a talent, I had buried it.
I left the firm and commenced working in a public accounting office, as the Wagga neurologist had suggested. I commenced, at age 36, studying, by correspondence, to be an accountant. This was to be a very daunting experience, over a period of 5 years and 20 subjects, (4 per year).

I experienced my failure in subject number 20, Auditing.

Consequences were dire! The Australian Society of Accountants who conducted their own exams, with a pass mark of 60% , would do so no more. I was in Limbo. One subject away from qualifying and nowhere to go!

With the aid of the Society, I was able to negotiate a deal with the Bendigo Institute of Technology, now LaTrobe University, to study Auditing for 1 year to secure my qualification. Travelling to Bendigo 3 days a week over a period of 12months, I found the course, with a pass mark of 50%, relatively easy and so passed, and obtained my accounting qualification.

However my next failure was in applying to be entered into partnership. ASA qualification was not high enough to be accepted. I had to be a “Chartered” accountant!

So began the most difficult year of study. But there was motivation and I passed, qualified, and purchased a 50% interest in the Accounting firm which became Smith O’Shannessy & Co.


Ray O'Shannessy
April 2017

​ 
From the time I was five years old I spent my school holidays on a sheep and wheat farm owned by my Uncle Ned and Aunty Mary.  The farm was at Swanwater, about 14 miles north of St. Arnaud, in the Wimmera district of Victoria. I kept going there until I was 16 years old and my uncle died. I then spent school holidays at various other uncles’ properties.
 
As I grew older, and a little bigger, my chores varied.
 
The very first task was to gather the eggs.  After some few years I milked the cows. Then, when harvesting and haymaking came along, I would help build hay ‘stooks’, which were heaps of sheathed hay.
 
Following that, I would help load the wagon with these sheaths. We would then transport the hay to the farmyard from the paddocks, where we would build haystacks. Enough hay was cut to provide the stock with hay for 18 months to 2 years. We would also cut chaff to provide for the horses.
 
My next duty was to sew the bags of wheat which had been stripped by the harvester. In the early days, before the introduction of wheat silos, the sewing had to be very tight. We used a fine type of sewing twine with the loops close together and utilised a ‘bag filler’ to get as close to 3 bushels as possible.
 
The bags of wheat were loaded onto the wagon by utilising a horse and a ‘bag loader’. This loader was affixed to the side of the wagon, and as the horse tugged forward, the bag would rise and could be stacked by a person on the wagon. My duty was to lead and direct the horse. We would then tow the wagon with the tractor, a W30 McCormack Deering steel wheeled machine, to the Swanwater rail station, a trip of 3 or 4 miles.
 
At the station, the wagon and its load would be weighed.  It would then be moved onto the wheat ‘stack’, where men were unloading wagons and motor trucks into a huge wheat ‘stack’ in readiness to load onto the railway trucks. The wagon was then weighed again, only empty at this stage, so as to ascertain the weight of the wheat delivered. We would then proceed home to get another load.
 
When wheat silos were erected some years later the same procedure was gone through, with the exception that the bags were not sewn as tightly.  They were sewn with baling twine, just enough to stop the wheat from spilling. Consequently, a bag, then, did not truly represent 3 bushels. At the railway station we had to cut the twine so that the bags could be spilled into the pit ready for the elevator to carry the grain into the silo. Bulk railway trucks would later be filled from the silos and transported to the depot.
 
My next duty was to drive the tractor which towed the H. V. McKay Massey Harris 10 ft. comb harvester. To many this would appear to be a monotonous deal, but I would have to be on the alert in case the wheat tusks clogged the comb.  One day I was manouvering the tractor and harvester to get all the grain from the headlands. This resulted in me driving to the heap from the opposite direction. I only realised why my uncle was yelling when I was abruptly stopped by hitting the heaped wheat bags with the comb. My uncle then took the steering wheel from me and reversed out of trouble. The damage was easily rectified.
 
Once I had learned to drive the tractor my duties varied to harrowing, ploughing, sowing wheat and barley and general use.
 
1945 was a drought year and as there was no grass in the paddocks we had to feed wheat to the sheep. This involved placing several bags of wheat in the spring cart, going down the paddock, slitting each bag of wheat so that the grain fell to the ground. The sheep followed behind the spring cart eating the grain.
 
Also, in this drought year there were many dust storms, restricting vision. To get from one paddock to another, I would have to follow the fence line. It was not possible to ride through a paddock without getting lost.  Which brings me to horse riding.  Aunty Mary owned a paddock six or seven miles from their home and I had occasion to go to this paddock frequently.  My transport was my horse, Denny.  His real name was Dennis Boy, named after a Melbourne Cup winner.  Denny was normally a flighty animal, but with drought conditions and lack of good food Denny quietened down. However, he regained some of his vigour as the season improved and used to endeavour to bite my leg as I mounted. To overcome this I would lead him to a gate and I would climb up the gate from the opposite side. This action overcame the bites.
 
Uncle Ned contracted cancer in 1948 and was very ill.   His only child, Des, (who was about 12 years older than me), and I were making little headway with the December 1948 stripping when a group of five or six local district farmers, with their tractors, headers and harvesters arrived  on the farm, completing the job in no time.
 
Uncle Ned died in January 1949, and thereafter I spent school holidays spread around other uncles.
 
The last uncle I stayed with, Uncle Tom, while having wheat crops, was more interested in sheep trading. He went to a sheep sale in Donald and purchased some sheep. He also scouted around to see if he could get a job for me with a stock agent.  The sheep had to be driven from Donald to Swanwater and this was my job. He had an old utility, either a Rugby or an Overland.  It often wouldn’t start, but I had the happy knack of fiddling with the spark plugs and the carburetta and getting it to go.  Anyway, I acted as drover, droving the sheep to Uncle Tom’s home at the Swanwater Homestead.
 
This was possibly my last farming experience before starting work with a Stock and Station Agent.
 
Ray O’Shannessy
March 2017
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​In February 1950, as a 17 year old, just left school, my uncle had got me a job as a clerk with Victorian Producers Co-Op (VPC) in Benalla, a place I had never heard of, and only discovered that it was in north-eastern Victoria, far from my home of Swanwater, in the Wimmera.
 
Uncle Tom, or Toby as he was known, and Aunty Kath, decided to drive me to Benalla.  It was the longest drive I had ever experienced.  My only memory of it is the many trees on the side of the road between Mooroopna and Shepparton.
 
We arrived at Benalla in the late afternoon and booked into the now extinct Broken River Hotel.  After tea we located the office of the VPC in the main street, where the barber David, now operates Warehouse Cuts.  It had grey shaded windows with a little peep hole in the front section.  There was a light on.  We peeped through the window but saw very little.
 
Next morning the three of us went to the office and met the manager, Mr John Gilbert Short, and the other two staff members, Charlie Hancock, and Ed Lewis, whose position I was taking.
 
I was told that Mr. Short had arranged accommodation for me with Mr Devine, the publican, at the Broken River Hotel (not very appropriate for a 17 year old) and that my wages would be 3 pounds and 5 shillings per week, with 2 shillings and 6 pence to be taken out for tax.  I was later to discover that my board would cost 2 pounds 10 shillings per week and I had to do my own washing.  That left me with 12s.6d. per week pocket money.  The office provided me with a bike.  I had been used to riding horses, and a bike was a relatively new experience. 
 
I was given a rough description of what my duties would be, with the result that there was much I just had to pick up for myself.
 
After I’d been introduced  to the Catholic Priest and Uncle Tom and Aunty Kath had left I settled into my accommodation, only to discover that Mr. Devine had put me up as a favour to Mr. Short, and my presence was really regarded by him, as an imposition.  My room was at the very back of the building above the boiler room, so it was very hot in the summer month of February.
 
I located a commercial laundry and when I could afford it, had my shirts laundered.
 
My job at VPC involed working with the farming community, attending sheep and cattle markets, handling farm chemicals, woolpacks and other merchandise, and doing all the bookwork.  It also involved phoning farmers, advising them of their wool and stock prices.  This phoning occurred after the evening meal in order to accommodate farmers who generally were in the paddocks all day.  Consequently I had a lot of contact with the telephone exchange girls, with whom I became very friendly.
 
I also became friendly with a number of youths who I met at the church, and there were frequent dances at St. Joseph’s hall.  I also attended the Saturday night dances at the Memorial Hall.
 
There were a young couple (Frank and Jean) with a young daughter, staying at the hotel and they had just moved to Benalla for a change of lifestyle. They were looking for work.  Eventually Frank obtained a job at Harrison’s Hardware and Jean was employed as a waitress at the Hotel.
 
They were also looking for accommodation, and through their efforts, after some months, I obtained private board with Mrs McFarlane and her daughter in Charles Street.  One of the greatest assets here was the fact that Mrs. McFarlane did my washing.
 
I joined the C.Y.M.S. (the Catholic Young Mens’ Society) and enjoyed going to their dances and playing table tennis, which I had never played before.  As a clerk, I was soon roped into the job of being the society’s secretary.  We used to go to the other towns C.Y.M.S. dances regularly.  The president didn’t go to the dances, so at every dance I was expected to give a speech.  This was a good learning curve.
 
After some 12 months or so Mrs. McFarlane became ill and I had to seek other accommodation.  This I found in George Street at the home of Frank and Eileen Elliot, the parents of (now) Trish McCabe.  They were fantastic people and when I turned 21 they put on a surprise 21st birthday party for me in St. Joseph’s Hall, with so many of my friends attending.
 
I became friendly with Kevin Hernan who boarded near the Elliot’s.  He came around frequently to the Elliot’s and each week-end I would go out to his parent’s home in Winton.  He had six brothers and sisters and I fitted into his family, playing Santa Claus at every Christmas Dinner and proposing the toast at all of their 21st birthdays.  The Hernans gave me the home that I had never before known.  I then started to play football with the Winton Football Club.
 
I left Benalla in 1955 and returned in 1963.  It is my real home town. 
 
 
Ray O’Shannessy
February 2017
 

On New Year’s Day 2014, Bernadette and I were delivering ‘Meals on Wheels’, as we regularly do, and were nearing the end of the round.

We delivered a meal to a gentleman in Killeena Avenue.  He took his main meal from me at his door.  I stepped backwards and - bingo!  There was no step!  There I was, flat on my back, struggling to get up.  The gentleman, being aged, was unable to help other than to advise that I wasn’t the first person to fall there.  Some comfort!

With some effort Bernadette helped me rise and we completed the round
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At the hospital, later, I received the news that ‘I broke it!’  I had broken my pelvis in two places and had incurred a lumbar injury.  I learned later from Mr Critchley, an orthopaedic surgeon, that the pelvis would mend itself in time (about 6 months) and I should take pain killers.  After 8 months he told me, ‘You are not healed but you are healing’.  Today, after 3 plus years, I am still not healed.  However recently, at the local clinic, I obtained some new painkiller medication which, thank goodness, seems to be effective, although I have been warned that there may be some side effects.

Having sustained my injury as a council volunteer I had, apparently unreasonably, assumed that I may have an acknowledgement at least from a councillor, who would ask how I was managing.  Not so!  Nevertheless I did receive a visit from a council community worker who offered many council facilities to me.  I did not utilise these facilities.

I also received a visit from a council officer, offering to meet all medical expenses incurred by me.  This was greatly appreciated as I incurred expenses to the tune of some $3000, which was the figure net of Medicare.

I enquired about insurance and, having made a claim, was told by the insurance company that, as I was not being paid to do the job, I was ineligible.

I was advised, by outside sources, that I would be entitled to a substantial payout, should I make a claim through one of the public liability firms.

As a long term Benalla resident I was loath to involve Benalla Council in such a claim, which would undoubtedly become public knowledge.  After a lot of to-ing and fro-ing I accepted a minimal settlement.  I felt that at my age there were too many complications for me to be concerned with a formal claim.  It would be too much of a hassle and would only un-nerve me.  I would have to repay Medicare and I couln’t be bothered with what I considered unnecessary involvement.

So there you are!

That’s how ‘I Broke It’.


​
Ray O’Shannessy, Feb 2017