16 May 2024, Holy Rosary Church, Nedlands, Western Australia
In October 1926, Winnie the Pooh was published, Chuck Berry was born and on the 27th in Dunedin New Zealand, Francis Raymond Gordon was born to Maud and Frank Gordon.
Frank had fought and been wounded in World War 1 and returned to work as a blacksmith and welder for the Dunedin Tramways, and Maud Nicolson was a teacher and pianist from the gold mining town of St Bathans in Central Otago.
Life was always a struggle for the family carrying some legacy debt and especially after the outbreak of World war 2 when Frank was enlisted to make tanks for a private company but was paid as a soldier. Dad took on a milk round dispensing milk from an urn carried on his bike in the bitterly cold Dunedin pre-dawn. His mother, despite severe asthma, wanted to ensure Ray had the best possible education and she too went out to work. Frank and Maud determined that Ray would have a better life than they and saved enough to buy Ray a set of the wonderful Arthur Mee’s Childrens Encyclopaedia which he loved and voraciously absorbed setting himself up as a lifelong font of history and literature, and a quiz champion.
From 1931 to 1939 Dad went to St Clair school – which he loved – and then Kings High – where he received education from some outstanding teachers, but also prejudice and discrimination directed to his appearance and clothing. For example his first football boots were school shoes into which his clever dad (who could make anything) had hammered stops which could be removed to revert to use as shoes. Despite being captain of cricket and soccer and an NCO in Air cadets some teachers did not think such appearances should be rewarded with positions and honours. I suspect this attitude was the genesis of a lifelong philosophy Dad adopted to deal with arrogance, entitlement and bigotry he used to call ”confounding the ungodly”. Probably deriving from Psalm 55.
For example if a bowler ridiculed or mocked you or your team, the only appropriate response in dad’s mind was to hit him back over his head for six and win the game. If a pompous official asserted the rules over a practical solution or if injustice was being deployed over a just outcome, it was incumbent on you to confound the ungodly and take steps to assert practicality or justice. The approach made a lasting impression on me. One of dad’s many lasting gifts.
Also at Kings High with dad was James K Baxter, New Zealand’s greatest poet who was saved a beating from bullies by Dad’s timely intervention. 30 years later when dad used to wait for us to finish swimming training at Beatty Park at 7 in the morning we would come to the car and he would often be reading a volume of Baxter’s poems.
During the difficult childhood years Dad used to love going up to spend time with his mother’s family who ran the Post office at St Bathans where he said he could run wild and free and explore the hills and landscapes, beginning a lifelong understanding of, and passion for, the earth, the land and its riches, and developing a self-reliance and independence which was so fundamental to his being a successful geological engineer in some of the remotest places on earth.
On one occasion as a lad he heard one of the old miners complaining to his aunt at the Bathans Post office that he had something of an immovable blockage in his tummy. When dad saw the old bloke go into the dunny up the hill, young Ray took matters into his own hands and discharged a .22 cartridge into the roof of the outhouse, instantly causing both panic and then merciful relief.
Dad decided to leave Kings High and spend his final year of school at St Kevins College, Oamaru where he played rugby with two future All Blacks captains, broke the NZ inter school hurdling record, and was awarded the McKechnie cup as the school’s outstanding sportsman, scholar and boy, matriculating to the University of Otago where he studied geology and mining engineering.
Having done everything to get their son a good education and as happy a home and family life as possible, Dad’s Mum died in 1947 aged only 51, and he lived with his dad Frank until 1953 when he too passed away too young aged 61. Ray and Frank had a challenge going to outdo each other with the heat of the curries they made for dinner, often leaving them gasping, crying and grasping for a cold Speights. Dad was so grateful to his parents for their love and all they sacrificed to ensure he got a chance at a good education and to develop his clearly evident intellectual and athletic potentials. But those years were not easy and no doubt the difficulties and early deaths impacted his character and took their emotional toll.
After Frank’s death Dad was taken in by his Aunt Gladys Nicolson-Garrett and her husband Fred, who worried at the rowdy crowd – mainly from the Union Rugby Club - with whom young Ray was spending his time, With some justification. The club had regular bus trips to race meetings. One day at Wingatui word got round that their team mate Lexy Hare who was a jockey had given the lads ‘the wink’ and the Union punters all rushed to get their money on Lexy who was the favourite. The race started and Lexy promptly jumped off his horse leaving the Union boys pondering on how they had managed to get the message so wrong. Of course, dad always said that if you were out of luck at the end of the day at the track, you would just have to find bookie Peter Gallagher, who for a quid, would let you know who would win the last at Omakau! Many years later Dad parlayed those betting skills into a big win at the 1970 Perth Cup.
At the Uni of Otago dad completed geology and mining engineering degrees. During vacations he worked at meat freezing works and in coal mines. At Uni he was a triple blue. He played cricket for the West Coast, soccer for New Zealand Universities, athletics for Otago and NZU, tennis for Vincent County and rugby for Uni of Otago. He also edited the student newspaper and designed and constructed the Engineering student’s float for the graduation parade incorporating a keg of beer and a concealed toilet – the prototype porta loo!
Dad married the love of his life, Noeline Cull in 1957, “the best thing I ever did”, Dad confided recently, and they formed a wonderful partnership until Mum tragically passed away in 2011 after a long illness during which Dad walked up to the home to be with her every day. Dad told me later he was so grateful for Noeline, and all she did, packing up and leaving family and friends to come to WA and then spending so much time on her own with a young family with his work taking him away for months on end to all corners of the state.
And that was true but sometimes we got to holiday at places where dad was working like Waroona and Meckering and when dad was back we treasured the time he spent playing cricket and footy with us at Rosalie Park or taking us to the WACA to see the shield games and a chicken pie in Queens gardens, the birthday parties still remembered fondly by my St Louis comrades here today, the picnics and the Sunday barbeques at home, taking us camping and fishing.
As one product of it I can vouch that Mum and dad were a true partnership to which each contributed unique gifts and a whole lot of love. We were inestimably lucky to have them both and for so long.
After Dad left University he joined the Ministry of Works In New Zealand and worked on the Roxburgh Hydro, found a solution to soil and rock problems where no-one else could to construct the Homer Tunnel and was a key engineer on the construction of the Alexandra, Kawarau and Gates of Haast bridges.
His work took him to remote and rugged parts of the New Zealand South Island including Kaitangata and Greymouth where he experienced the full range of human character and a fair share of the unexplained. On one wet and freezing day, lost and walking for miles on the West Coast he and his companions felt the presence of TS Elliot’s “third who walked beside them” from “The Wasteland”. On another, atop the Red Hills Ranges they saw countryside that could not be there and heard the music of the spheres.
Feeling compelled to try and evolve civilized society in places where little of it seemed evident, Dad and his workmates established the Kaitangata Philosophical Society for discussion of Philosophy, Literature, poetry and music, and on Sundays the cold and stark rooms and corridors of the Boarding House would fill with Beethoven’s fifth Piano concerto and Rachmaninov’s second symphony and suddenly feel less remote and far more civilised.
Dad’s talents and reputation as a geologist and engineer became noticed and he soon was weighing offers from the Govt. of Burma, the Shah of Iran and the Geological Survey of Western Australia.
Ray joined the Geological Survey of Western Australia in 1962 and was soon in charge of some of the biggest geological site investigations in Australia including such significant structural legacies as the Ord Diversion dam and main dam, harbour developments at mining ports in the state's north-west, and mapping of the state’s geological and mineral resources, all still today part of the reason for this state's – and Australia’s - continuing wealth. He probably can lay claim to having driven as many miles, and having set foot in more parts of this state, than any other person ever. He cheated death on a number of frightening occasions and has seen some things which defy rational explanation.
One thing which defied rational explanation was why country and western star Smokey Dawson tried to drive through the flooding Fitzroy River in a small red sports car to make it to a gig on time. Fortunately for Smokey dad had also just arrived at the river in his Landrover with a rope and winch on the front and was able to wade out and attach it to Smokey’s car which at this stage was heading fairly rapidly towards the coast. Smokey’s gratitude did not extend to a free ticket to the gig and he drove off with the empties clinking on the back seat.
Other work dad did over the years with the Survey included saving the Waroona dam from collapse and later when he was in his own business, he worked on the development of Boddington gold mine, and the development of ports at Esperance and Oakajee as well as the dredging of Port Hedland harbour. One of his last jobs was consulting on the airport rail link.
One day at the Survey he was called in to advise on the rock cuttings for the Trans Australian Railroad near Toodyay. He arrived, had a look round, noticed this odd development in the rock walls and went straight to the site manager. "You need to get everyone out of here. NOW" he said. Some 20-30 men and their machines were working in and on the cutting. They were ordered out. Within an hour the whole thing collapsed. It would have been one of the country's biggest industrial disasters. It passed with barely a mention outside the official reports. But Dad’s skill and expertise in geological science and rock engineering had saved the lives of every man on that job.
Sixty years later it is gratifying to reflect on the ripples from that event. Those men may have died. Their families would have suffered immeasurably. Their children and grandchildren may never have been born. And the ripples widen and deepen as the years pass. Thanks to one man.
Another example of the mark of the man was one of the first cases I was given when I became a lawyer. It was for a woman whose home in the hills was falling apart because the builder hadn’t tested the clay content of the soil properly. Dad had been called in and was so concerned for the woman and her children that he refused to charge a fee and continued to advise us as the hotly contested litigation progressed. Confound the ungodly. Eventually it settled in her favour and I learnt some significant lessons about the use we can make of professional skills for those who most need them.
Another key interest of Ray’s professional life arose not long after dad had started at the Survey. Some rocks had fallen from Kings Park onto Bernies' Burger bar and the adjacent Shell garage in Mounts Bay Road. Dad was asked to go and inspect and ordered wire netting to catch the deteriorating limestone. Over the years he has developed that expertise becoming the go-to consultant for governments on dangerous limestone caves and cliffs in WA including at Rottnest, Devils Elbow, Fremantle, Kings Park and Gracetown after the fall. I suspect his knowledge has saved more lives although it also resulted in a three metre fall for Dad from a wire ladder in a dangerous cave near Yanchep resulting in a broken wrist. Fortunately a Dr Gordon was working in Joondalup that day and was able to organize the necessary ER attention.
He took on the study of limestone as a PHD thesis at Curtin University where he lectured Engineering and Geology for many years, becoming its oldest ever awarded doctorate at 85. He told the Sunday Times he was surprised because he always thought he would burn out rather than rust.
I’m not sure why he got the doctorate. I mean “Fine and coarser grained laminae alternate and there is cross-stratification on a large scale with bedding dips of up to 35 degrees. Subaerial exposure leads to the important facies of karst, calcrete and paleosol, giving the limestones a vast range of physical properties ranging from calcrete caprock to soft marl.” Sounds just like common knowledge to me. The publication became the first, and go-to, text book on limestone problems in the world.
Dad also lectured at UWA for nearly 50 years, originally being forced by the ungodly in the GSWA to take two hours leave each week to deliver a 50 minute lecture. In 2007 he was awarded a Doctorate for his services to soil and rock Engineering and to the University, and was invited to address the graduation ceremony with an entertaining and reflective address. Think Tim Minchin with shorter hair.
After Dad’s death and the obituary in the Post newspapers one of dad’s former engineering students now a credentialled engineer himself reached out to share his fond recollections of dad’s lectures at UWA.
It has actually been a little humbling to see the messages from people who have reached out from all walks of life in the last few weeks. One – here today, Chris Foley - remembered being coached by Dad at athletics; two more were young engineers working with him in the 80s on major projects up north. The engineering student. His carer, Fiona. He clearly was admired and respected by a vast circle of people from disparate walks of life.
Being from the Shaky Isles, Ray’s other professional interest was earthquakes and when WA shook in October 1968 he was placed in charge of the fascinating investigation based in a caravan at Meckering showgrounds (where Steve and I spent the rather after-shocking summer holiday). He named the South West Seismic Zone and was appointed to the Premer’s Earthquake Advisory committee where he pushed for mandatory building standards for new constructions in earthquake prone areas. But he was undermined by Ungodly Public Servants who told government that they were not necessary. Until the destruction in Newcastle in 1989 when Dad was vindicated, the ungodly were confounded and more lives have since been saved by his intelligence and reason.
In Perth Ray played rugby for Western Suburbs winning a premiership, and he coached rugby teams at the University of WA and athletics at St Louis school. He represented WA in the Coles “Across the Nation Quiz” on channel 7 and twice reached the finals of Australian Mastermind.
He loved watching sport especially the Otago Highlanders, the All Blacks, the Black Caps, the Western Australian cricket team and the Perth Scorchers. He had a deep passion for music and poetry and there was always music playing at home when there was no sport to watch. He was a man of great faith and for many years attended, and later, provided music for this Church, Holy Rosary in Nedlands.
For 60 years he lived at 43 Williams Rd, improved it with his own hands and loved it always.
He loved a laugh. For hours he could tell stories of the people and places he had known. We shared some wonderful moments over the years at the place in Halls Head. He loved the sunsets and the light, and ending the day with a cold La Trappe.
Everything interested Dad. He never stopped reading, his mind inquiring. Once when the Mormons knocked on the door, to Mum’s horror, Dad asked them in. He wanted to know about their beliefs – it was typical; he needed the how and why. By the time they had finished about six weekly meetings they asked him to become their Bishop. He politely declined. He never wavered in his Catholic faith.
What most interested Dad was family. He was interested in anything I did and he always required updates on Tallulah and Samuel, whom he could see so rarely but loved so dearly. He assumed they would not be interested in an old fogey like him but he always wanted to talk about their achievements, their interests, their ambitions; and he cherished the people they have become. Tallulah is working in Singapore and can’t be here today but she wanted me to give her love to Grandad and to say how impressed she is with all he achieved in his life.
He loved his 90th birthday party and Christmases when the whole of his family was together. His own early family life was tough. But it made so much more clear to him in his later years how important family was and he told me there was nothing more important in life.
The care and assistance Dad received in his last year from Stephen, and in particular, from Annette, has been nothing short of remarkable. Dad called Annette his “treasure”.
Family and faith. In our last morning together I read him some of his favourite poems. One he requested was Macaulay’s “Horatio at the Gate” with the wonderful lines ;
“Then out spake brave Horatius,
The Captain of the gate:
‘To every man upon this earth
Death cometh soon or late.
And how can man die better
Than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers,
And the temples of his Gods,”
And there it was - Family and faith with a little bit of confounding the ungodly.
In his retirement Dad researched in New Zealand and wrote a history of the St Bathans gold fields called St Bathans Gold which is now for sale at the old Bank next to the Post Office. It was to fulfill a promise he’d made to Aunt Gladys aka Aunty Mame. Writing it took him back to his happy place. Or at least one of them. He also loved the WA outback where the
“bush had friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,
And at night the wond'rous glory of the everlasting stars”[1].
Sixty four years and seven months this man has been part of my life. A lifetime. My lifetime. As I said goodbye to my father in the palliative care ward of the Bethesda hospital and walked out into the bright Perth sunshine, I knew I would probably never see him again. We had just spoken our last words on this earth. All of those things we had said, all of the good times, all of the things he had taught me, the times and stories we shared, the sacrifices he had made for me, the things he had bought for me to ensure I had what I needed as a child and the assistance he gave me in my work at Wittenoom and Ok Tedi. All of those things were now history. My memories alone, not to be shared with him.
I had been lucky of course that he had lived to the age he had, with a sharp mind, always ready for an old story, or a laugh. Maybe one of our favourite poems. We read a few that last day.
We chatted about the La Trappe beer we had shared with Stephen the night before, and the wonderful surprise victory the Eagles had pulled off over the Dockers. So trivial. So important. Small pleasures. Shared moments at the end of so many shared years.
We both knew this would probably be the last time. You don’t end up where he was and expect to go home or enjoy another birthday. He said he thought when he had the episode at his home a few days ago that he wouldn’t see me again and was glad I had made it over. I said I was glad too.
He asked me to comb his hair. He still wanted to appear his best lying in a bed in a room that was now his home. It was the least I could do for him. After all he had done for me. I hoped I had made him proud and that I had made his life better, especially in the years since he lost the love of his life, Noeline, my mum.
He noticed my shirt wasn’t tucked in and I thanked him for looking after me as he had done all my life. I said I loved him. He said he loved me too. That I was a good son. He was a great dad. I said I would try and get back from Melbourne in a couple of weeks.
But weeks are like mountains. Sometimes they are so high that you can’t see the other side.
I started writing this when I got to the airport that day. As I wrote I had this notion that if I pressed SAVE he would always be with me. But it was only my words that were saved. And that doesn’t seem enough to do justice to him.
I hope – and, yes, pray - he is right and that we will meet again in some wonderful glorious hereafter. His faith believed, gives me hope that it is true. He usually was right about stuff.
We also read from Tennyson[2] that last day
‘The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;
The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends.
'T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,—
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
The world goes on. But not with him in it. No-one will much notice except his family, now really just seven of us. We are the ones who know and will always care. He loved us and we loved him. And we will miss him and will value the wonderful things he said, the treasured memories he left us and the truly significant life he led. We were enriched by his life. We are all diminished by his passing.
Good bye my Dad. We love you.
[1] Clancy of the Overflow – AB Patterson
[2] Ulysses
