The Hortons - A Family Reflection

Helen

Ray

A Few Words From Rob Landsberry

Helen Margaret O’Brien was the 6th of Irene and Bill’s twelve children. Helen married Raymond Edward Horton, and together they had eleven children across seventeen years.

This is their story.

It started life as a family reflection, mostly driven by their eldest son Alan and their daughter Jenny. I’ve done an edit, and added some extra material, but it’s all been reviewed and OK’ed by the Horton family.

Like all family stories, this is just the beginning. No doubt more material will be added over time, including some more photos. But all these family histories need to start with something, and this one is a great start to the story of the Horton family. Thanks must go to all eleven siblings for making sure that the memory of their parents lives on for future generations.

By Way of Background - by Alan Horton

The O’Brien Family Website has provided both the catalyst and the opportunity to recommence something which had its beginnings in 1994. During the intervening years – and that’s 30 now, which is very hard to believe - ‘a good intention’ got pushed aside and was somehow overtaken by the immediacy of life. I’m reminded of the words of John Lennon’s song ‘Beautiful Boy’:

Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans

Recently, while shuffling through a collection of tired and dogeared A4 manilla folders we discovered one titled Horton Family History. Its contents immediately prompted memories of a cringeworthy raw draft of random thoughts which had its beginnings during occasional on-duty quiet periods while serving at Defence Headquarters in Canberra.

That said, the folder had an assortment of Horton family history going back…in fact, way back. It included a compilation, some of which Marion had copied and sent to us all a few years ago. Much of that material had been gathered by Jenny, and I think Trish, although memory is a strange thing, so its compilation may have involved other siblings, and perhaps even some of the extended family.

It deals primarily with our Horton forebears, ie on Dad’s side of the family. There are also poignant reflections, and contributions by members of our family at the time of Dad’s passing.

However, the draft which had started as ‘A Family Together’, and which had been intended as a more contemporary insight, particularly around our Tallawong Road experiences, seemed to have disappeared, probably because of an unrelenting urge to purge stuff – a hangover from the military habit which has proved hard to shake.

A thorough search, including through an old Army trunk and computer files, came up empty, aside from a few scribbled notes. So, what to do? A call to my younger sister Jenny provided a happy outcome, she had a copy (thank you Jen 🙏🏻) which she forwarded on to me. In addition to that document, there were notes, stories and reflections describing aspects of Mum and Dad’s life, their eulogies, various testimonials, and reflections written by a number of siblings, including Anne, Marion, Jenny, Trish, Dave and Max at the time of Mum and Dad’s passing.

It was quite moving to once again reflect on times gone by, and it generated a resolve to bring together significant milestones and memories for us all and compile them into a document.

We, (Jen and I) discussed how we might move this forward, potentially as a collaboration, but also welcoming the participation of other interested siblings. As part of our musings, we touched on how the O’Brien website might perhaps be the most suitable means of publishing our Horton Family narrative, as a respectful link to what’s already been recorded regarding Mum, as a further tribute and historical record for future generations, and to preserve Mum and Dad’s memory for posterity. Not to do so, might see these reflections regrettably disappear, or succumb to an unknown fate.

The O’Brien website, overseen by my cousin Rob Landsberry, is gradually building into a valuable family asset, providing a range of stories, documents and photos. What a legacy Rob is overseeing and recording on our behalf. While he and I may not always agree on all matters, I was sure he’d gladly embrace any contribution from us which made its obvious connection with dear Mum, by extension Dad, and we eleven siblings as direct next of kin. [RL: Absolutely!! 😊]

Interestingly when meeting with our O’Brien cousins, we’re most often reminded of their memories of Tallawong Road, and how those recollections of we Hortons remain with them.

Of course, with eleven siblings the issue was how to go about it. In the end, Jen and I gathered all the material we had, and did our best to produce a document that covered recollections of Mum and Dad’s time at Earle Street, Beacon Hill, Tallawong Road, Lake Innes and beyond.

We then put that out to the siblings and asked for their feedback, but of course, everyone is busy with their own projects and family, so this takes some time. And then we made changes, did another draft for sibling approval, and then provided the document to Rob for editing and augmentation. That then went to the siblings again, and here we are. Simple! Well, not really.

Clearly, this is NOT a minor undertaking. Even the initial writing, which was largely by me, took some time particularly taking note that that I’m a scribbler with a diminishing capacity for coherent thought as time marches on. 😉

The journey toward the creation of this family reflection is intended to encompass the sum of our individual contributions, that is with input from all eleven siblings. After all this is about Mum, Dad, and us. All of us!

There will be occasions whereby thoughts and memories are subjective, and in this initial draft that sometimes means mine alone. As the elder sibling at a point in time obviously it was just me. But thankfully not for long!

Memories and thoughts provide the capacity for reflection. It extends perception and possibly wisdom. How precious is the mind, it keeps giving generously. It can be difficult though, due to a lack of clarity, or possibly a memory so vague that it makes one question: did this really happen, was it real? Sometimes a thought or memory triggers a flood of things long forgotten, our memories of Mum and Dad, an inspiring idea, a plan in the making, childhood adventures, teenage mischief, work, funny incidents, or perhaps just growing older.

Whatever the case, this was our opportunity to record our memories in a written account, and what a privilege it presents. It may be deeply personal exposing glimpses into our past – with surprises aplenty, who knows? For us siblings and for those that follow it will doubtless offer up some unknown details of our past and certainly it’s bound to yield a chuckle or two. Are you up for the challenge? I hope so!

There has been considerable research undertaken by some of you, and by extended family relatives to identify those historical threads which link our Horton heritage to the present. It’s been admirable, probably painstaking, and worthwhile research yielding considerable detail. The question we might ask - is it relevant in respect of this project in the context of our Horton/O’Brien connection?

My personal thoughts are that this should be a more contemporary reflection, providing us all with the opportunity to draw on our individual memories. A personal touch rather than delving into too many of the historical records. We’ll largely leave that for others.

Since the following account has had contributions across range of people, it’s written in ‘the voice’ of an unidentified Horton sibling.

So, let’s begin…

Raymond Edward Horton (Dad) – Before He Met Mum

Raymond Edward Horton (Dad) was born on 20 June 1920 in St Leonards, NSW. His parents were Walter Lindsay Horton and Ellen Margaret (Nellie Josephine) Horton (nee O’Donohue). I’m not sure why my grandmother had so many names, but that’s what Ancestry.com shows. It appears that she was best known as ‘Nellie’.

When piecing together these family stories, there’s a number of sources which can turn up the odd, interesting snippet. One of those turned up a long list of articles about an Edward Raymond Horton who committed a heinous murder in New Zealand in 1948, and later escaped from prison in 1955, only to be recaptured and reincarcerated. This was BIG news at the time, even here ‘across the ditch’. And when it popped up, it did fill us with some degree of trepidation! But although the timing was about right, fortunately the incident didn’t involve Dad – he was ‘Raymond Edward Horton’ not ‘Edward Raymond Horton’. 😉 Phew!

Before Mum and Dad met, and during the war years Ray was employed in engineering, work which was designated as part of a ‘Reserved Occupation’ when Word War II broke out.

Labour controls were introduced during WWII because of the high numbers volunteering for military service abroad. The controls were introduced to guarantee that there were enough essential workers left to meet the requirements of the industries supporting the war effort. The then Minister for Defence, Brigadier Geoffrey Street, summed it up as follows in The Argus of Thursday 28 September 1939:

The object of the restrictions is to ensure that while the requirements of the combatant forces are met, those men whose services in other occupations are essential to national requirements shall not be permitted to enlist in the fighting services.

And then, with the goal of balancing the numbers engaged in the war with those providing services at home, the 1940 list was refined and replaced as the war expanded when the US entered the fray following the bombing of Pearl Harbour in 1942.

If you’d like to read more about Reserved Occupations, then click here.

Helen Margaret O’Brien (Mum) – Before She Met Dad

Helen Margaret O’Brien (Mum) was born in Junee, NSW on 12 October 1924 and was Irene and Bill’s 6th child. Mum’s birth broke a seven-year drought of female company for Irene, with her eldest sister Mary’s birth in 1917 being followed by four boys – Jack, Allan, Harold and Cyril -before Mum came along.

From her birth until 1940, when the family moved to Sydney, Helen lived with her family on their Junee Farm, Cooberang.

At Lake Noorla on the Heffernan's Property

Cooberang

You can read about the family’s life on the farm in Madonna Barraclough’s (nee O’Brien) fabulous book ‘Growing up on Cooberang’. If you don’t have a copy of this book and you’d like one, please email Madonna here or Rob here and one of us will be able to arrange a copy for you.

Mum attended the Junee Reefs Primary School, as did all of the O’Briens. As you can see in the school photo below, at one stage there were nine O’Briens at the school.

Interestingly, the above photo shows one of the teachers (Mr Snowden) holding the Shield that the Junee Reefs school had won at the inaugural Illabo Athletics Carnival in 1935. It also shows Mum’s elder brother Allan holding the cup he’d won for winning the boys’ overall athletics championship at the carnival. Both of these events are referred to in the following article.

Article from 1935 - Junee winning the Illabo athletics shield and Allan winning the cup

Bill O’Brien (Mum’s Father) and his family were well known and well respected in the district. For a start they had 12 children, a tennis court, and Bill had a love of education, the ability to play a couple of musical instruments, a passion for cricket, a wife who could bake up a storm, and a strong sense of community. Bill was a keen volunteer assisting at events like the Illabo Athletic Carnival, and he and Irene encouraged their children to take part. Both of these are evidenced in the following article covering the 1938 Illabo Shire Carnival.

An article about Bill being the starter and a number of O’Briens participating, including Helen

You can see Bill’s name (TW O’Brien) mentioned as ‘starter’, along with 6 of his children (including Mum) achieving success across various events - Frank, Helen, Joan, Gwen, Reg and Claire.

As had been the case for Mary (the eldest of Irene and Bill’s children), Mum and Aunty Joan finished their high school at Mount Erin boarding school in Wagga Wagga.

In her book ‘Growing Up In Cooberang’, Madonna recalls that:

Helen says she loved her time there as they were 'wonderful years' and she was sad to leave. Without the support of her parents and older brothers, especially Jack who helped pay her school fees, Helen would not have enjoyed the opportunity of senior schooling.

In the Brown siblings’ story of their parents, Joan and Keith, Aunty Joan’s children recalled the sisters’ time at boarding school:

Her [Joan’s] life at a boarding school seemed stereotypical. She and Helen, her older sister by one year, were caught smoking in the toilets on numerous occasions. The nuns were old dragons whose sole aim in life was to make the girls miserable, or so they thought. Castor oil was regularly dispensed by the nuns, whose questionable hygiene habits and hands over the top of the glass made the experience all the worse. For this reason, her own children [Joan’s 4 children] were never required to partake of castor oil – thank God.

We found this small snippet from the Daily Advertiser (Wagga Wagga) of Saturday 25 November 1939 in which a 15 year old Mum is recognised as one of those having qualified under the St John’s Ambulance program running at high schools throughout NSW.

The O’Brien family moved to Sydney from Cooberang in 1941. In her book ‘Growing Up On Cooberang’, Madonna sums up the reason for the move:

From the outbreak of World War II, the future of running the property looked uncertain. Working the land became increasingly more difficult as the O'Brien boys Jack, Allan, Harold and later Cyril enlisted in the Air Force or Army. Meeting the demands of ploughing, planting and harvesting meant that Irene and most often Helen started driving the tractor to help William with his duties. This situation did not please William, so it was decided that the family would move to Sydney.

Mum and Joan were likely still completing their last years at High School at Mount Erin in Wagga Wagga, as Mum’s younger sister Gwen’s recollections don’t include them in the move:

I remember travelling up to Sydney in Mum and Dad’s car with Mum, Allan and Dad in the front, and me in the back with Anne on one knee and Claire on the other. All we owned was packed and stacked, and in and on that car, all around us. I don’t know how we did it! I don’t know what happened to the furniture we had in the old house. Maybe it was just left for the next people.
We stayed with Dad’s sister in Marrickville when we first moved to Sydney. It was an immaculate home and the first time we had electric lights! We jumped up on the bed to pull the cord on and off, on and off! Aunty had a fridge that was just framework, covered in canvas, with water constantly dripping on it, to keep it moist. We had to always salt our meat for freshness.

The family then bought and moved to a corner store and home at 36 Pine Street, Cammeray, where they stayed for 2 years before selling the shop and moving to their new family home ‘The Gables’ in 29 Earle Street, Cremorne in June 1943.

Below are some photos of Helen with some of her siblings entertaining herself and the troops, some having come from the UK, before she enlisted herself in early 1943.

Helen reading

Helen (left) with sisters Gwen and Claire

Helen and Joan entertaining the troops

Mum joined the family at the Pine Street corner store, but she wouldn’t have made the move to The Gables with them, as by then she’d joined the war effort, signing up with the Australian Army as a full-time Reservist, on 12 January 1943, aged just 18.

Her Mobilization Attestation Form shows her address at the time she joined up as 36 Pine Street, Cammeray, although a later Service and Casualty Form shows Bill as her next of kin, with his address being changed to 29 Earle Street, Cremorne. Click here to see Mum’s complete army records.

Closeup Army photo of Helen

Army photo of Helen

Helen's Mobile Attestation Form

Helen's Service and Casualty Form

Between leaving high school and joining the Army, it appears that Mum qualified as a stenographer, as that same form sees Mum putting that as her occupation, with her employer shown as the solicitors’ firm of JJ Carroll Cecil O’Dea, which was at that time located at 11C Castlereagh Street, Sydney.

The second form that Mum filled in when she joined up shows her answering ‘no’ to being able to drive any vehicle, which is odd because she’d been driving tractors and such at Cooberang, but it was likely the fact that she wasn’t licensed that caused her negative answers.

And while she had no morse code (something that was never remedied as far as any of us know 😊), and was apparently unable to cook (something she had to work on once she had 13 hungry mouths to feed), she was able to take shorthand, use a typewriter and undertake clerical duties. Many years later, Mum and her brother-in-law Alf Landsberry (Gwen’s husband) would joke about the fact that their WWII service had seen them both fight bravely in the ‘Battle of Broadway’ as stenographers.

During Mum’s enlistment, and as was the case for all those serving in the Army during WWII, a Service and Casualty Form (Army Form B.103) was completed as a sort of mini diary of her service. As you can see in Mum’s war record (see link above), that same form shows a number of sick days, and also mentions asthma – something that afflicted several O’Briens, and stayed with Mum until the end of her life.

This form was to become important as part of Mum’s claim for Repatriation Benefits in 1957, as noted in the letter to the Central Army Records Office.

At the time Mum joined up, four of her siblings had already done so:

Jack had joined the Air Force on 16 January 1939, before the family had moved from Cooberang to Sydney, and 8 months before the war started. Jack was 20 years old.
Harold joined the Army on 18 June 1940, aged 19. This was also before the family moved to Sydney.
Allan joined the Air Force on 6 December 1941, aged 22.
Cyril joined the Air Force on 13 October 1942, aged 19.

So by January 1943, five of the twelve O’Brien children had joined the war effort. Looking at the percentages more closely, the O’Brien’s had committed even more than just five of their twelve children to WWII – four of the children hadn’t even turned 18 by the time the war ended, so five of an eligible eight siblings had enlisted in the war effort.

Just over a year after she joined up, Helen lost her brother to the war, when Irene and Bill’s third child, Allan, crashed into another allied plane in a training exercise over Egypt on 28 February 1944.

Below is a fabulous picture of Mum and her fiend Dot in uniform (more or less) and celebrating either VE Day (April 1945) or VJ day (August 1945).

Mum served from 1943-1946 attaining the rank of corporal. She was discharged “on account of demobilization” as noted on the final line of the table on page two of the AF B.104 form shown above.

Mum and Dad - Meeting and Courting

Mum and Dad met through a social tennis club in early 1948 at Cammeray near North Sydney. The Earle Street O’Briens were already members, and they determined that there were too many ‘Rays’ and ‘Edwards’ wielding tennis racquets at the club, so they decided that Dad had to take on his confirmation name of ‘Peter’. And it stuck.

My sister Jenny explained the story of Dad being called ‘Peter’ in the following email to her cousin Rob Landsberry in August 2022:

Hi Rob
The story of Dad being called Peter came from the time he joined the tennis club where he met mum, and all the O'Briens.
Apparently, there was already a Ray and an Edward at the club, so Dad was asked if he had another name which is Peter, his Confirmation name. The rest is history. The O'Briens are the only people who called Dad ‘Peter’.

RL: It was an odd thing, this renaming of people. Odd, but not infrequent. In doing my research for the O’Brien website, I’ve come across many people who’ve either renamed themselves or been renamed by others. As a child, I only ever knew them as ‘Aunty Helen and Uncle Peter’. I didn’t hear about ‘Ray’ until I was much older. But then again, our grandfather was born ‘Thomas Bede O’Brien’, but was always known as ‘Bill’, ‘William’ or ‘Will’. And our grandmother’s name was ‘Catherine Irene Casey’, yet she elected to go by the name ‘Irene’. My Mum’s friend from their days as tailoresses was always ‘Aunty Pat’ to we kids, yet she wasn’t our aunty, nor was her name ‘Pat’ – she was ‘Joan Binns’, but like Ray there were too many ‘Joans’ at work already, so she was re-christened ‘Pat’. 😲

Mum’s love of tennis lasted a lifetime, fittingly she eventually made her belated comeback at Lake Innes. Her cherished Monday tennis ladies recreational and social gathering became a much-loved ritual. The tennis court remains.

Of course, there were ample post WWII courting opportunities for Mum and Dad to get to know one another.

Helen and Ray in The Blue Mountains

Helen and Ray with Gwen and Alf in The Blue Mountains

Ray, Helen, Gwen, and Alf in The Blue Mountains

Ray (right) and friends in The Blue Mountains

Ray and Helen (left) with Gwen and Alf at The Rural Bank Ball

Social gathering for the Tennis group

Married Life

On 11 November 1948, Helen Margaret O’Brien and Raymond Edward Horton were married at St Mary’s Cathedral Sydney, during Dad’s break as a chauffeur. Given it was Remembrance Day, perhaps they hoped that would make sure they never forgot an anniversary.

Mum, eyebrows arching, often recalled that Dad was late - he quickly overcame his lack of punctuality thereafter. Following the ceremony they went off for a cup of tea. Dad had forgotten his money, so Mum paid. And so began married life.

At the time of Mum and Dad’s marriage The Gables was the O’Brien family home. It was located at 29 Earle Street, Cremorne and it became Mum and Dad’s temporary abode.

By the early 1950s, after the birth of Alan in 1951, followed by Peter in 1952, a Horton owner builder project was underway at Beacon Hill. It was a modest endeavour, but the views of the pacific coast and the Sydney skyline were something to behold.

Alan remembers snippets of life at both Earle Street and Beacon Hill. Stern but generous grandparents, failed attempts at sliding down winding stair rails, as toddlers wandering off and getting lost, Peter falling into an under road stormwater culvert, milk and bickies at the home of Mrs Burrows (an Earle Street neighbour), Peter slipping on rocks slicing his hand badly at Beacon Hill, visits back to Earle Street with many happy laughing people nursing and cuddling us, ladies in black dresses and veils, starting school, views overlooking a huge blue dam, and much more.

Alan at The Gables

Alan with Ray and Helen

Alan, Helen and Alan's 2 grandmothers

Alan and Ray at The Gables

Alan with Helen and Ray

Helen and 6 of the 11 siblings late 1950s

In the post WWII boom, in addition to the property at Beacon Hill, Dad purchased land. He also went to considerable lengths to better himself through self-education. By the mid-1950s after acquiring acreage on the western rural fringes of Sydney at historic Rouse Hill, Dad set about building another owner builder home with much help from his brothers, establishing what would, in time, become a small productive farm. Seven of the eleven Horton children were born while we lived at Rouse Hill.

In later years we learned that the primary reason for moving west to a dryer climate was Mum’s chronic asthma, a condition that was attributed to her Army service, during which she was handling contaminated files and war records sent from Africa and the Middle East.

Tallawong Rd – A lifetime of Memories

The move to lot 66 Tallawong Road in Rouse Hill must have taken place around 1956, by which time there would have been Mum, Dad and four mini-Hortons. The house was made of brick (seconds), had a tin roof, locally harvested timber framing, unfinished side verandas, and a floor made of compressed earth and ash. There was a rainwater tank, a kerosene fridge, a primitive toilet, a wood fired combustion stove, and a lounge room with a huge unfinished fireplace. Essential furnishing.

And there was bush all around us. Lots of bush!

The family had grown to six by this time, with David arriving in 1954 while at Beacon Hill, followed by Max in 1955 coinciding with the owner builder work at Rouse Hill.

There are memories of tea chests by the dozen, purchased prior to the move to Tallawong Road, much of the contents though had been pilfered. Alan recalls Mum in tears at what confronted her: the disappearance of treasured family possessions, a spartan unfinished house, limited clean water, no electricity, isolation, heat, dust, and four children under the age of six demanding her full attention. How brave she was!

The Snowy

There was hardly time to settle in, when in 1957 Dad won a contract with the Snowy Mountains Hydro-Electric Authority running tipper trucks with his brother Ron. The days of his owner driver trucking business at the White Bay Power Station and long-haul interstate transporting were put on hold.

While the money was generous, Mum became a sole parent for long periods. The O’Briens, particularly Mum’s sisters, stepped up to lend a hand, as did other close family, and scattered local neighbours and friends. They were all were hugely supportive, lending emotional and practical help during what must have been tumultuous times. There were many visits by a coterie of laughing ladies, nuns, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, and kids mostly agog, and maybe even a little envious, at what became their temporary bush playground.

Dad’s Health Issues

Dad struck difficulties early on. There were mechanical problems with his trucks, they were simply too slow, and breakdowns and mounting expenses led to further financial stress.

His health had also deteriorated markedly. There had been contributing factors in his youth. At just fourteen, Dad had needed to start full-time work to help support family, and the hard physical work over many years had taken a toll. The combination of his issues on the Snowy project, his failing health, and the stress that accompanied both, led to a complete physical and nervous breakdown. There were periods of hospitalisation, some of which involved psychiatric treatment including invasive shock therapy, and things became more complicated for Dad as other chronic health issues surfaced. A serious heart attack in the 1960s, requiring by-pass surgery in the early 2000s further demonstrated a longstanding fragility. Yet, through it all, Dad remained determined to take on a series of projects, relying on a much-loved golf cart and a Howie tractor to provide a reasonable level of mobility. That said, there were times when he’d become a danger to himself and others when behind the wheel.

By way of explanation, Dad confided that as the fifth of nine children born to Nellie and Walter, the family had endured extreme financial and family dysfunction. For many, this was a terrible time of extreme hardship brought about by the Great Depression of the 1930s, something that would have a profound impact on a great many people for the rest of their lives. You only need to read some of the older stories on the O’Brien website from the 1930s and beyond to understand that impact.

In later years Dad would remark, “Those depression years were the cause of so much family disruption and missed opportunities.” He occasionally spoke of those desperate times, when as a youth he worked as a blast-furnace stoker at the Port Kembla steelworks, and was regularly on the verge of physical exhaustion.

And as a teenager walking the 200 kilometres from Sydney to Bathurst (can you imagine it) seeking farm work, or any work, on rural properties along the way. Sadly, as for many at the time, he was mostly turned away. Understandably, those experiences remained deeply engrained. For the most part he had a low opinion of those he described as ‘rural landowner elites.’

Opportunities Taken

Following extended periods of hospitalisation, therapy, and rehabilitation Dad sought respite through portrait sketching of notable public figures including Winston Churchill, John Curtin, and others. His talent was obvious. In the absence of Ray’s own sketches, we elected to show a portrait of Mr Churchill by Graham Sutherland, and a portrait of Mr Curtin by Antonio Dattilo Rubbo.

Winston Churchill

John Curtin

Unable to undertake full time work Ray would seek out opportunities in part-time roles. He also took to harvesting locally sourced hardwood timbers in partnership with his neighbour and brother Ron. That venture only lasted a short time as the suitable timber resource rapidly diminished.

Remarkably, Mum also fitted in occasional part‑time work, while managing a growing family, a husband who was doing his best to manage his own difficulties, and all the while maintaining a happy and nurturing home life.

Inevitably there came the forced sale of properties the couple had acquired around the Sydney basin and beyond, with the resulting funds being quickly expended to service debt.

And then in a karmic moment of serendipity came some positive news for the Horton family. Mum was able to claim a Veterans Affairs disability pension in recognition of her war time service.

Responsibilities

Remarkably the growing family had established an orderly routine. School for the elder boys, at Schofields Primary then St Joseph’s Riverstone.

Memories of Schofield Primary in the late 1960s

Anne-Maree 3rd from the left at Riverstone High in 1971

Alan recalls he and Peter walking the three kilometres to school, dealing in the usual way with bullies after initially copping a thrashing or two, and being chased by cows.

At about age six or seven there was a graduation of sorts, with the boys steadily introduced to daily chores. A realisation that as part of growing up there came responsibilities, jobs to be done. It helped and was appreciated – milking cows, feeding chooks, pigs, livestock, watering fruit trees. And who could forget the bricks (the seconds) tipper loads Dad had dumped, they had to be cleaned and stacked for future extensions. We all took a turn with hammer and bolster. It went on for years.

Mum’s Strength

Still the family grew - sisters, and brothers - Anne-Maree in 1956, Mark in 1957, Marion in 1958, and Patricia in 1960.

Remarkably, Mum kept the house running smoothly, seemingly without fuss, usually humming away and seemingly in perpetual motion. Her care and love for us all was never questioned. In her ‘spare moments’ she lobbied successfully for a school bus service and liaised with authorities for the long-awaited connection of electricity. She was a vocal advocate for the upgrade to the local roads, which were perpetually in a shocking state - muddy, dusty, pot-holed, and no better than dirt tracks. Her clerical abilities, communications skills, and initiative were paying huge dividends.

Electricity must have been connected by the mid 1960’s. Gone were the Tilley lanterns, candles, and kerosene refrigeration and heaters. The man from the Waltons department store became a regular caller to collect the monthly payments for household appliances including a fridge, a television, and a stereo.

Consolidation

A number of improvements were underway with our home and property. Verandas were enclosed, floors concreted, ceilings were added, and outside land was cleared, fences were added, cropping was expanded, the dam was enlarged, new drainage and water tanks were installed, and much more. These were busy times, but despite that, a sense of order and routine took hold. Dad and the boys maintained and improved the property, with Mum making sure the home ran smoothly, while all the while delivering, nursing and nurturing infants.

Unexpected events amongst the mundane were hardly unusual, however occasionally there would be something exceptional. One such occasion was a fire in the kitchen which was caused by the kerosene fridge overheating. It was extinguished, but it was a close-run thing. Buckets of water and blankets were hastily brought into service, as flames singed exposed roof timbers.

And as if that wasn’t enough, shortly afterwards a bush fire threatened a calamity. Alan decided enough was enough and started removing several littlies to safety. Somehow the fire was eventually contained.

Fire, drought, and flooding rains – a trifecta when one lives in a rural setting. When the heavy rains came sometimes water would surge through the back half of the house. With strict instruction to remain in bed, we nervously watched the spectacle, waiting as the flow eventually subsided.

On hot summer days the respite was the dam, initially a small water hole in time it became a large body of precious water. We were all proficient swimmers at an early age. There was little choice or hesitation. It was literally sink or swim.

Getting it done

Surrounded by wildlife brought an awareness of remaining vigilant. Occasionally a snake or lizard would slither into the house or yard, but unless it was venomous there was no real cause for alarm. That said, on one occasion Dad had to deal with a huge King Brown Snake that had strayed close to the house and was exhibiting a level of aggression that couldn’t be tolerated so close to the family. Thankfully a rare encounter.

During the cooler months massive stumps would balance in the fireplace, until lit up, creating a deep comforting warmth for us all to enjoy. At times old logs extended across the lounge room floor substituting as handy seating perches close to the fire. Smoke was a regular visitor, billowing forth like an angry dragon, though careful stoking and a great deal of patience generally won out, taming the beast.

The family would gather, listening to the banter, when a cuppa would suddenly appear. The elder group had graduated to a warm drink in recognition of their approaching coming of age, while for others it was a glass of milk or cordial, as home-baked treats were passed between eager young hands. As the family grew and competition became more intense, one became accustomed to foregoing etiquette when food was on offer.

Food to sustain and satisfy a growing family was always top of mind. Trips to Concord served multiple aims. One, the main one being the bulk purchase of boxes and boxes of fresh fruit and vegetables, a lot of it seconds, and always heavily discounted. ‘Bill the grocer’ became a family friend who must have understood the occasional precarious financial predicament, as his generosity was unsurpassed as credit was extended at those times. For Mum a visit to Concord also provided a welcome opportunity to visit her sisters and in-laws – the O’Brien’s retained a close and abiding support for each other which never diminished.

The 6 O'Brien Girls in the 1940s

The 6 O'Brien Girls (and Jack) in the 1970s

The extended O’Brien, Horton and family friends willingly helped in so many ways. It was not unusual particularly during Mum’s pregnancies for three or four of us to be on ‘holidays’ away - a respite for Mum to help ease her load. No doubt all of us have memories of those times, dealing with periods of uncertainty. Why were we being sent away?

Alan recalls at age seven or eight departing Sydney by train – it was a long journey all day and late into the night. Arriving at a place called Armidale, to be met by Uncle Jack and Aunt Celia and a tribe of kids – big kids. At the time he had no idea what it was all about. He spent at least three months at ‘Tilbuster’, went to the public school nearby, rode horses, rounded up sheep, enjoyed lashings of food, especially roast lamb, and learnt the Rosary. Alan remembers leaving by train for the trip home wearing a suit and tie. At other times he found himself ‘holidaying’ with Dad’s brother Len and his wife Janet, Mum’s sister Claire and her husband Harry, and Dorothy, a close and lifelong friend of Mum.

Fragilities

There was an understanding that when Mum insisted on quiet, it meant Dad was resting, something that became an almost daily ritual. Dad would be there one minute, and gone the next, retreating from harsh realities for some badly needed respite. It was to be a part of Dad that was with him for the remainder of his life - a need to withdraw. We’ve all witnessed it.

Occasionally Mum’s asthma would give her so much grief that it required bed rest, medication, and once or twice hospitalisation. Somehow though she kept functioning. It’s what had to be done. As youngsters, we had no real concept, but as we all grew toward adulthood, witnessing up close the consequences of mental and physical illness, it obviously sharpened our senses and created in us a sense of empathy that may not have been that common in other children. It’s been quite possibly lifechanging in a good way as if those experiences have ‘washed through’ our individual personalities – time alone, quiet, peace, and a desire for tranquillity - amongst all the partying, of course.

The Girls

By the mid-60s Anne-Maree and Marion were helping Mum out with the household chores and home duties, especially the washing which seemed never ending! Their collective efforts helped to keep the household running smoothly. It was a time when household roles seemed to come with pre-ordained and unquestioned gender stamps, something that continued through the years that followed with Patricia born in 1960 and Jennifer in 1962 continuing to support Mum, embracing a responsibility passed on through their elder sisters and which they understood to be so very important.

A Renewal

By the mid-1960s Dad, with strong encouragement from Mum, rediscovered golf. He decided to join Castle Hill Country Club, quite quickly becoming known fondly as the ‘silver fox’.

He and his brother Len were regular trophy winners, much respected and both contributed toward the club development as committee members in the years that followed.

Each of the Horton boys, and later the girls, took stints at caddying.

Eventually Peter and Alan joined as cadet junior members having had much tuition, coaching, and practice at home. They’d constructed a bush golf course which meandered around vacant adjoining property. Following their apprenticeships at the ‘Tallawong Course’ soon David, Max and then Mark joined golf clubs, and the trophies kept coming. Mark went on to represent NSW as a State Junior amongst elite company.

Alan recalls he and Peter helping to fund their golf and contribute to paying board with jobs after school and Saturday mornings at a grocer’s shop in Riverstone. John Givonni (JG, the Macho Italian) was a tough but fair task master, and the work not only provided an income, but it also had the side benefit of helping to develop a physique and improved physical strength. The golf balls were going a lot further, scores were improving and handicaps plummeting. All five boys worked at JGs, each broadening their shoulders and improving their strength, with a consequent improvement in their sporting abilities.

Job Done

In 1968 Helen was born, lovingly named after dear Mum as if it was her signing off. Job done. Prior to that Jane had arrived in 1967, and Jennifer in 1962 rounding out our incredible family of eleven siblings.

The Growing Horton Clan (10 of the 11 of us – Alan is missing)

The elder four, followed by the middle four and the younger three. Not an elegant summation, but in terms of how the family functioned during those early years it proved to be the reality.

Turbulent Times

High school was an emotional and confusing time for some, and as the first to experience it, Alan struggled. You’d imagine that after achieving Dux at Riverstone Primary (6B) things should have been much better for Alan. But sadly that wasn’t the case. Following an intervention by Mum after a particularly poor report and matching behaviour, alternate schools were considered, amongst them Hawkesbury Agricultural College and Patrician Brothers Blacktown, both proving to be impractical for both travel and affordability. The suggestion by the Riverstone Deputy Principal (Mr Stanton) was that Alan leave school at 14 years and six months and join the workforce, conditional on him undertaking night schooling to complete his School Certificate – an alternative way of achieving the award, which he did.

Hawkesbury Agricultural College in the late 1960s

Riverstone High School board showing Mr Stanton as deputy

Alan started work at Rumsey’s Seeds in Parramatta, opposite DJs, as a sales assistant 1965, later moving to in the Northmead factory warehouse and headquarters.

Herbert John Rumsey, seedsman, horticulturist and genealogist, was born in England, arriving in Sydney with his parents and sister in 1872. By 1895 Rumsey had started a nursery and seed business on his father’s Barbers Creek (Tallong) near Marulan. Henry was survived by two sons and three daughters, when he died at Dundas on 1 February 1956. Rumseys Seeds Ltd was sold to Arthur Yates & Co. Pty Ltd in 1966 but his sons and grandsons continued as nursery and seedsmen at Galston and Dural, NSW.

Advertisement for seeds from Bathurst Free Press and Mining Journal, Wed 31 Oct 1900

A Rumsey seed packet

Peter also started work at Rumsey’s in about 1967. Like Alan, he was completing night school, following which he took up a clerical position with Foreign Affairs in Sydney.

In 1969, at the suggestion of Dad and a close golfing colleague, Alan started work at Fielders Bakery as a delivery driver, a position which allowed for daily golf practice, so things were looking promising. Alan moved to temporary rented accommodation at age eighteen - it was time. With the Vietnam war raging, Alan’s number came up - sadly not the lotto, rather he received notification for military conscription in 1970. His conscription was deferred following an appeal by Mum, which was supported on the grounds that Alan was the family’s primary source of income. You can read more of Alan’s story by clicking here.

Further Consolidation

By the late 1960s the four eldest boys were in permanent employment, paying board, playing golf, and having a crack at other sports, including rugby league, soccer, tennis, and the like. And they were followed shortly thereafter by Mark in the mid-1970s. All the Horton boys had secured employment including with various government authorities. Max enjoyed peering under a bonnet. It just came naturally to him, most likely because he’d been pulling engines apart since his pre-teen years. Dad relied heavily on the boys to do their allocated jobs, and looking back on it now, his approach imbued a level of responsibility and a strong work ethic in us all which thankfully stuck. Moreover, we were all well placed to deal with life’s challenges in practical ways.

As we grew into our mid to late teens social gatherings became a semi-regular event at home. Golfing mates mainly, a group which genuinely enjoyed the hospitality Mum and the family provided. Dad had also formed a close circle of friends through golf, and their presence at home would of course be a special occasion.

During the seventies life at Tallawong rolled by. The girls were shining, Anne-Maree and Marion had jobs at Lockies Pharmacy in Schofields, no doubt enjoying the independence which employment brought. Trish, Jenny, Jane, and Helen continued their schooling.

Dad, who was elected as vice-captain at Castle Hill, contributed his clarity of thought, and big ideas as the club developed a growing reputation as a challenging championship layout. He was on a roll, reducing his handicap to single figures, on the way winning the B grade championship and other Honour Board events in 1971, following Alan’s own entry onto the championship board five years earlier.

Mum seized the opportunity to visit her sisters and friends, take breaks, and occasionally socialise with Dad at the club. Much of the early struggles, setbacks, and worry had been laid to rest. While finances remained tight, a certain sense of security prevailed thanks to the generosity of our family working together.

Vehicles

It would be remiss not to address, at least in passing, Dad’s passion (some may say ‘obsession’) for things mechanical – trucks, machinery, cars, motor bikes, basically anything that moved and made a noise.

Having worked as a professional driver – a chauffeur - in his younger days, the opportunity to drive luxury limousines must have been quite a privilege and likely led to Dad’s yearning for all things vehicular. Even in the toughest of times cars came and went. During a stint as a used car salesman the ‘test vehicles’, as he described them, kept turning up at home. Prior to, and following the car sales job, there was a procession of cars, most likely on a hire purchase loan, ensuring a reliable vehicle would be on standby, parked-up safely undercover near the side veranda.

Here’s a partial laundry list of vehicles to ponder upon: Armstrong-Sidley, Vanguards, FB, EK, EJ, and HD Holdens, Simca (that was some car, that Simca), Mercedes 220S, HK & HT Holdens, VE Valiant, Datsun 1600, Toyota Crowns, Mazda, Peugeot, Renault, Toyota Camry. Not a complete inventory, but you get the idea.

Minor Infractions

As is the case in all family’s rivalries and tensions would inevitably arise. It’s the nature of things with thirteen individuals living under one roof. Most were minor misdeeds, and anything untoward was quickly dealt with. Dad, and at times Mum, would wield a stick as a reminder to us all to toe the line. We well understood our limits when it came to respecting one another by sorting out differences amicably.

Church Parade

Mass attendance was, at best, ad-hoc for some years, with attendance at a packed St John’s, Riverstone consisting of Dad, the boys and one or two of the girls.

With Dad away working, hospitalised, rehabilitating, or otherwise incapacitated, and Mum nursing and caring and essentially house bound, attendance at church was more the exception than the rule. Frankly, the Mass during those times seemed a monologue of indecipherable mumbling and it was a struggle to follow proceedings, as the priest for the most part was facing in the opposite direction to the assembled parishioners.

Thankfully, it all changed in the mid-sixties with Vatican Two, as did our attendance which required a roster as numbers grew. There were mass opportunities at Riverstone, Schofield, Northmead, Castle Hill, and a Saturday evening option which would offer an alternative should there be an early tee-off time on Sunday.

Without question the commitment to our religious observance was, and remains, fundamental. In following the example set by Mum and Dad, we as family are grounded to a core set of values, and it shows.

Lake Innes

With the financial support of family members including Peter, David, and Max, a financial collaboration allowed Mum and Dad to seek out a much deserved, if unexpected, destination to contemplate retirement. Dad had evidently been on the lookout for quite some time.

In 1975, as a cooperative partnership, the family purchased property at Lake Innes near Port Macquarie, and by late 1977 lot 66 Tallawong Road had been sold, and with that, an important part of Horton history was behind us.

Building at Lake Innes was well underway with the boys called upon to assist Dad’s builder golfing mate, Les Goodwin, with framing and labouring works. Soon came a significant logistical relocation to lot 60 (550) Lake Innes Drive to the new family home. Mum, Dad, Peter and five of the six girls were part of this ‘tree and sea change’ that was all wrapped in one.

Lake Innes would become the family retreat and focal point for many gatherings and reunions over the coming decades. It remains the family home. It became Dad’s paradise on earth, a testament to his foresight, determination, and vision. For Mum a comfortable, modern, and well-appointed home that although long overdue, was everything she wanted. That said, an extra bedroom or two would have been handy. In later years the ‘little house’ provided backup accommodation for visitors. True to form it fulfilled Mum and Dad’s desire to provide a legacy for the whole family.

Alan and Jo's house at Lake Innes

A view of Alan and Jo's property at Lake Innes

The Horton girls

Almost the whole Horton clan under one roof

Missing #1 - Marion

Missing #2 - Jane

From the that move in the late nineteen seventies, through the eighties, nineties and into the new millennium, family members have gone about their business at the Horton house at Lake Innes.

The girls completing their schooling at Wauchope and Port Macquarie. They found work, played a variety of sports, had a wide group of friends, and of course they partied. With so many attractive daughters Mum maintained a close eye on prospective suitors.

And then there were those pampered horses, which were kept well shod and ready for regular excursions often beyond the Lake Innes precinct, once again giving mum palpitations. But all was well.

Notably there were relationships, marriages, individual achievements, sons, daughters, grandchildren, great grandchildren, divorces, separations, birthdays, a call to serve God, a 50th Wedding Anniversary celebration, reunions, illness, occasional disagreements, and career opportunities locally and overseas. All were memorable and rewarding times.

Alan recalls the joy of visiting 550 Lake Innes Drive during annual holidays, and his boys, Shane and Jim, often talk about their time when, as pre-teens they were fussed over at Lake Innes. There was horse riding, fishing, swimming, tennis, and lashings of Mum’ homemade delights.

Peter had ‘the Datto’ running in those days, and he’d take Alan’s two boys on long excursions into the back country, which by all accounts should have tested a four-wheel drive. Their safe return usually led to the boys recounting their adventures and of course wanting more.

Dad joined Port Macquarie Golf Club where he retained his form, reputation, and charisma. He was joined by some of his old Castle Hill golfing mates who’d also moved north in retirement.

Port Macquarie Golf Club as it is now

Ray (far right) receiving the Uptin Trophy at Port Macquarie Golf Club 1987

Periodic drop-ins by Dave, Max, Mark, and myself inevitably led to a game or two at Port, otherwise a trip to Tuncurry or Kooralbyn, all of which were opportunities not to be missed.

Principally it had been Dad who guided, tutored, and supported us all, encouraging us to play golf. The opportunities that flowed from his encouragement and support have given us great joy over many years, and continue to do so, although mostly as spectators as the years roll on. The life lessons are evident – etiquette, patience, persistence, practice, respect, and consideration for others. Yes, he was certainly proud in his own quiet and understated way.

Next Door

Retirement became front of mind for Jo and Alan following their return after a three year overseas posting in 1993. The purchase of Lot 59, next door to Mum and Dad, and in partnership with David and Ann was an opportunity not to be missed. It fitted with a much-discussed plan to lend our support to both sets of ageing parents. While Alan continued his Army service in Canberra, the property was occupied by Trish, John, and family, and on retirement in 1998, having moved to Lake Innes the group set their minds to finishing the owner builder project commenced in 1996. It was all systems go.

Lake Innes gave our family so much. Not just a beautiful place to live in semi-retirement, but also a place to welcome family, be it immediate or extended, All were welcome, and it became known as ‘The Resort’. And so, for close to twenty years we were in the privileged position of being able to repay the many who had assisted us during those tough times when circumstances prevented us from doing our bit.

There are so many events which highlight our Lake Innes experience, but one that was simply not to be missed was Mum’s open invitation for a Friday Roast Lamb lunch ‘with the works’. Mum and Dad, Trish, Max, Pete, Jo, Alan, and at times visiting family would all be in attendance. It was always top shelf – a Mum special! It was accompanied by a home brew beverage, or a wine, and of course lots of banter.

If he was in-form, Dad would provide his commentary on world events. Not missing too much, he would follow lunch with a summary of his latest readings, which could cover any number of topics from Chinese toilet paper, Genghis and Kublai Khan, through to excerpts from the Old Testament, particularly those concerning Moses and the lost Ark. Once on a roll Dad was unstoppable. Our patient Mother would simply roll her eyes saying, “now dadda, that’s enough”, with Dad compliantly replying, “yes certainly, little mother”.

A Sad Time

Mum sadly passed away on 19 April 2006, leaving us at the age of 81. At the time Dad was 85 years old. If you’d like to read some eulogies and tributes on the passing of our dear Mother, you can click here for a full list, or on one of the links below:

Eulogy delivered by Trish

Eulogy delivered by Alan

Letter to the Hortons from Kate Landsberry

Letter to the Hortons from Rob Landsberry

Letter from Anne-Maree to the Landsberrys

Helen in her own words

Dad passed away just over three years later, aged 88 on 27 May 2009. His eulogy and a series of tributes can be found by clicking here.

Despite Mum and Dad’s hardships and having such a large family, we’re grateful that they both lived into their 80s. But despite that, losing Mum and Dad was devastating for all of us. The end of an era, although their legacy remains with us.

We all dearly miss their collective and abundant love of family, their wisdom, wit, unbiased support, and informed knowledge. We’re fortunate and undoubtedly blessed as life takes us all on different paths. It confirms the notion that thus far on this journey, it has indeed been a fortunate passage, and despite occasional setbacks, we remain a deeply supportive family. As our individual stories unfold there is much more to be told.

Moving on

At the passing of Mum and Dad there was a period of uncertainty, readjustment, and at times possibly despair. It had impacted us all in different ways. Thankfully, we recognised the need to move on and reset. Of course, Lake Innes will never be quite the same, it does however remain as a legacy to us all.

Over this past fifteen or so years the major works undertaken by Peter, Max, Mark, and Patricia has been quite remarkable. Major infrastructure - building sheds, re-constructing derelict fencing, repairing, upgrading and consolidating water storage, replacing and enlarging the carport, extending the degraded septic system, and of course the ‘great wall’ to name just a few.

The need for maintenance, particularly home renovation work is ongoing. Some examples include the leaking veranda roof, dealing with the ever-present threat of termites, bathroom upgrades, and much more, meaning that monthly contributions remain essential as part of our family obligation.

The Next Steps

Our hope is that this story has provided the basis for you to contribute in whatever way you feel most comfortable. We look forward to developing our family story by adding more recollections from the Horton siblings and the wider family. Please send any material (including photos) to Alan by clicking here, and copy Rob Landsberry whose email address can be found by clicking here.

Written by the 11 Horton siblings, with the major work by Alan and Jenny, augmented and edited by Rob Landsberry, last modified 9 December 2024