Balls and Bulcock

A story by my dear sister Evelyn Pettersson Carra, a great story-teller. She would have been proud to know that I have included this story in my blog. The dates and the people, now dead were real and at rest in the cemetary - but the story itself is fiction.

I have more stories but these ones are all true (as are all the rest of the stories within my Blog), by Evelyn which will be posted in the future under the headings "Emails to Mike" and these will be true stories about our childhood from her perspective.


A Brisbane Story


Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas 1914 - 1953

Once upon a time, in the not too distant past, I lived for some three and a half years opposite Toowong Cemetery, the largest, and now, the oldest in Brisbane. Once the oldest, the cemetery at Paddington had been demolished to make way for the Suncorp Stadium. Many of the bones of those disinterred there now also lie in Toowong Cemetery.

During those years I spent many hours walking through the Cemetery, stopping by graves, reading headstones and reflecting on the lives of those many thousands now lying quietly far from the madding crowd. Some for over a hundred years and those who died not long ago. Sometimes, it's sad to say, I even envied their deathly sleep and never failed to thank them for being such considerate neighbours. My strolls through this city of the dead made me feel at peace and gave me much respite from the noisy city that has become Brisbane. Men and their machines, it is relentless. The most distressing of all are the every day, at any time, anywhere, wherever of the garden machines. The whippersnippers, power mowers, leaf blowers, chainsaws, mulchers on the spot etc. Of course the cemetery is not immune to this invasion. Maintenance carries on and when the teams arrived I hastily retreated.

During my walks many of the headstones invited closer inspection. Those of Balls and Bulcock were two of them. I could not help but smile to see them, one behind the other. Balls in front and Bulcock behind. Today this could be seen as rather an unfortunate togetherness because of the connotations of the names. When did the once proud surname Balls become unacceptable?

I did a little research on the Web and according to one Ball family; the name had originated as Balls. This headstone is the only Balls in the cemetery.

I won't say that you can't miss it, it would not be true.

When I decided to try and relocate where I had seen these headstones I set out on my quest. As I walked around the general area of my search my mind took me back to three other occasions I had looked for particular headstones. Two of those quests were my own, looking for two names which were of particular interest to me. It had not been easy. I finally found them both in very different parts of the cemetery. These names are unique; there are no others of that name in Toowong cemetery. The third quest was helping a young Chinese man from Sydney trying to locate his grandfather's grave. He had come to Brisbane especially to do this. This was a particularly difficult task in that although the Chinese portion of the cemetery is easily located, particular graves are not. As is Asian custom the surname does not necessarily appear before the first name complicated too by the use of English nicknames It took us more than several hours to finally pinpoint the burial place of his grandfather. There was no headstone, nothing to mark his grave. It was right next to the avenue and who knows how many people had inadvertently walked over his grave over the many years since his death. With tears in his eyes the young man told me that his grandmother had died within weeks of her husband, the whole family had then moved to Sydney and there was no one left in Brisbane to see to the grave. I stood together with him as he placed sticks of incense on the grave site and then lit them. We bowed our heads and honoured his ancestor.

It was very moving.

And so, once again, on a suddenly burst into a torrent of rain, then stop, Friday afternoon, I spent many hours with my obligatory map of the cemetery with the general area highlighted and a list of the names of those buried in the vicinity. It was not raining at all when I first started my search.

As I trudged along the first shower started. My pieces of paper became soggy and torn. Wearing open shoes which became soaked my feet slipped and slid inside them. Trying to negotiate the overgrown slopes with unsuspected holes and rocks became a real trial. The names on the list became all jumbled in my mind. I retreated to one of the shelters to wait out that particular torrent. Luckily enough I had a spare pair of shoes in my car quite nearby. Anyone will know wet open shoes are impossible to walk in without imminent danger of an accident. As I sat in the shelter I wondered if in some way Balls and Bulcock did not want to be found. When the rain eased I tried again. I remembered that the headstones had been quite distinctive otherwise I would not have noted them so easily those years before, but that was all I remembered. Another torrent of rain and finally the names nearby took on some coherence and I found Balls and Bulcock again.

The grass in front of each grave was knee high and just another centimeter or so more and I wouldn't have been able to see the names on the headstones.

Fortuitous? Maybe.


Part 2 -


The Balls gravestone reads:

John Irwin Balls

Died 21st June 1895

Aged 39

Interred Kalgoorlie W.A.


and

Sarah Balls his wife

Died 13th June 1932

Aged 68


Below, the simple inscription

There is no death

Also beneath this headstone, although not mentioned thereon, are the daughter and son of John and Sarah Balls. This information I got from the official cemetery records.

Daughter

Florence Irene Kleimeyer

Died 16th April 1921

Aged 29


Son

John Irwin

Died Marseilles 31st March 1926

Aged 40

If you look at the dates of death of each of this family you might note with some sadness for her that Sarah Balls, wife and mother, outlived all her family.

This is the focus of my narrative. What were the intricacies of this family's lives and those of the Bulcocks? What were their dreams, their hopes, their triumphs, their losses, the ins and outs of the very act of having once been alive? Who would remember them?

Why does the name of John Irwin appear on the headstone when in fact he was buried in Kalgoorlie? When was the headstone erected and who arranged it?

A friend, the son-in-law? We'll never know. Florence the daughter died in 1921 and John Irwin the son in 1926, both before Sarah who went on to live and then die in 1932. (Ah, the agonies of a mother to lose other children). How was her life before and after these tragic losses? And yet, their names do not appear on the stone. Is there a monument to them somewhere in this vast city of the dead?

All of these family members including John Irwin Balls Senior (who might have been in Brisbane at the time) would have been through the ordeal of the great flood in 1893. How had they survived and if they had a voice what a story that would tell. And Sarah would have been through the Great Depression of 1929 to 1932 and in fact died at the peak of that Depression.

How indeed did she fare during those dark days?

The well known cliché 'Written in stone" quite possibly has come about from inscriptions on headstones and yet as you can see what is actually written there does not tell the whole story by any means.

Why is John Irwin buried in Kalgoorlie and why did he die at such a relatively young age? Well, it was 1895 and life would not have been easy whichever path you were following. Did he die of one of the myriad of illnesses there would have been around at that time without modern medicine, an accident, the demon drink - a very real possibility in those rough and ready times. We'll never know. And what of his life, his hopes, what did he do and where was he born?

Who were the first Balls? Researching the Web I found no name of Balls mentioned in the First Settlers or Convicts to Australia. And, as at the time of writing this there are no Balls listed in the Brisbane White Pages.

Florence his daughter would have only been about 8 years old when he died and then she only lived until she was 29, so young. An illness, childbirth?

What was John Irwin his son doing in Marseilles in 1926? It wasn't a time of war so how did he die? Judging from his age he very likely would have fought in the Great War of 1914 - 1918 so did he remain in France for the rest of his life. And then there was the great Flu Epidemic which swept the world in 1919. Perhaps he suffered permanent physical injuries which kept him there and he might have become just another drifter. In fact, do his actual bones lie in France and not beneath this headstone?

All these questions have no answers and remain forever buried with the name of Balls and that is sad for they all would have had fascinating tales to tell.

An imaginary interview with Sarah Balls, the longest surviving member of her family.

"This interview is taking place in Brisbane in 1930. We are sitting here in the beautiful Botanic Gardens in the midst of the City on a bench neath a shady tree. It is early spring and the weather is fine and not too hot.

I am talking to Mrs. Sarah Balls a respected member of Brisbane Society.

Good morning Mrs. Balls, thank you for allowing me some of your valuable time. I would like this interview to be mainly about your memories of Brisbane so without more ado please begin when you are quite ready."

'Thank you, I am happy to be here talking to you on this fine day. My name is Sarah Balls and I have just recently celebrated my 60th birthday.

Although I have a large group of friends I am sad to say that I no longer have any of my own family. They have all passed away, my husband a long while ago, bless his soul, I think it was around 1895. My goodness, that is a long time ago isn't it? 25 years! It is hard to believe, it seems like just yesterday I heard the terrible news of his passing. He was so young as was I. I was only 31. Sadly, too, I do not have the comfort of sitting quietly beside his grave to remember our youth, our love, our children, as he is buried in Kalgoorlie. At that time I did not have the means to have his body brought back to Brisbane. We had just been through the terrible flood in 1893 and it was all I could do to keep myself and my children above water, so to speak. We suffered great financial deprivation. I have made several trips about six or seven I think over the years to Kalgoorlie to visit my poor John. Ah, I did not tell you how he died, did I? It was a heart attack. His heart had always been weak. As a memorial there is only a small cross to mark his grave but when I die I will make sure that my memorial is in his honour too. My place of burial is secure. Once I got on my feet again I bought a burial plot at the cemetery in Toowong for our family."

"If it is not too painful Mrs. Ball can you tell me about your children?"

'Ah, my children, my beautiful children. Each of their deaths caused me much anguish and I really thought I could not carry on living. It was only my strong belief in God and that His Will be Done that helped me to bear my sorrow with fortitude knowing that we would meet again in a far better world than this.

Florence, my dear girl, the light of my life. She helped me through all the bad times through her sunny disposition and accomplished actions in the household. She lost her father when she was only 8 years old and was like a second mother to her little brother John who was just a little baby when he lost his father, barely 2 years old. Florence excelled at school and was more than once head of her class. I was always very proud of her. Flo studied diligently and went on to write her final examinations to become a teacher. At the school she worked in she met her future husband, Hansie Kleimeyer, as upright and honest a young man as ever you could wish for.

His family owned and still do several pastoral properties and therefore Hansie never wanted for anything. He and Flo got married relatively late, being busy with their careers, she as an English teacher and he as a Mathematics instructor. I think Flo had just turned 27. Over the next few years their happiness was blighted as Flo had two miscarriages very close together. We were all devastated by these tragedies and absolutely elated when finally Flo conceived again and the pregnancy went along without any problems. As the day of the birth approached we were all nervously but happily looking forward to it and to greet a new soul from God into the family. But then things started to take a terrible turn for the worse. Flo was so long in labour, so long, her cries were pitiful, her tiredness painful to watch. I was with her helping the midwife in this horrible ordeal. Many hours later a baby was delivered but the little soul was lifeless. Flo had just enough strength left to realize that all her labour had been in vain. She fell back in a faint, slipped into a coma and, as I wept bitterly at her side, a few hours later, despite all the doctors and nurses determination to save my child, I had the painful experience of watching her take her last breath. She looked very pale and beautiful as she lay lifeless before me, another angel in heaven. I went into years of  mourning but I was lucky to have the support of very good friends. My darling girl, it's been 9 years now. Forgive my tears, I just need a moment to compose myself."

"I'm so sorry and my deepest condolences to you Mrs. Ball, do you feel up to going on?"

"Thank you my dear, I will try to carry on now. As for my dear son John. Well he was always quite a handful. Between Flo and me he was terribly spoiled and rebellious. But he was a good boy at heart and although he didn't excel at school he managed to make his grades. We had some troublesome times in his teens and as soon as he could he started traveling around Queensland doing all sorts of things which he never told me about.

In his travels he did become quite friendly with some boys of the Aboriginal tribes around Queensland and learned some of their languages and for this I was rather gratified. I have always felt a deep down concern for these people and some shame quite a lot of the time. When the war began he was off and we only received scant news of him over those terrible years. Both Flo and I spent most of that time expecting to hear of his death at any time. It was a dreadful, worrying time for us both. And then, after the war and we had had no word to say whether he was alive or dead we never heard again from him. We resigned ourselves sadly to the fact that he must have been dead otherwise why wouldn't he have contacted us. Then of course my darling girl met her sad fate in 1921 and for years I thought I had no one left. And then in 1926, 4 years ago now, out of nowhere I received a message from someone in France. There was no return address. It stated that that person had befriended John in Versailles and that John had sadly died and was buried in that town. Far from his mother and far from his country. I never found out any more. My own son's life was as much a mystery to me as to anyone else. Oh dear, this talk of my children has overwhelmed me. Please do excuse me I cannot carry on with this interview any longer."

"Mrs. Balls, I'm so sorry and thank you very much for your courage in telling me the story about your husband and children. I look forward to meeting you again at a more auspicious time to talk more about your life.

It seems to have been filled with courage. Good day Madam and God Speed."

"Good day my dear and perhaps we will talk again."

Interviewer: "Sadly we never did."

1864 1932

Quote - The space between the dates is a life lived - Unquote

The headstone is a fine piece of granite of regular height of the Anzac Memorialisation Type according to the cemetery records. The inscription needs some attention. The grass needs to be cut and some flowers to re-remember them. I shall attend to that. It is in a fairly affluent area (there was a hierarchy even in death), half way up the slope towards the Blackall monument and almost directly diagonal to it on the right off 18th Avenue.

Rest in peace Balls family.


The Bulcock headstone reads:

William Bulcock

Born 21st October 1854

Died 15th November 1930

Elizabeth Edith Mary

Born 17th August 1872

Died 7th December 1951

The official cemetery records also indicate that in this same grave are Sarah Laycock d. 27/11/1880 aged 62. Her birth date is not mentioned but her age of death would make it some time in 1818.

And her brother James Laycock d. 2/10/1893 aged 71. Again his birth date is not mentioned but it would have been some time in 1822.

The First and Second Fleets arrived in Australia in 1788 and 1790 so Sarah and James could very likely have been born in Australia in the fledgling days of the colony.

The mystery is what relationship did the Laycocks have to the Bulcocks. And why are their names different, yet similar?

There are only two other Bulcock sites in the cemetery, so again, though not quite like the Balls family, making them almost unique.

The first obvious thing you notice from the dates for William and Elizabeth Edith Mary is that he was 18 years her senior. This leaves us with another set of tantalizing and unanswerable questions. Too much time has passed and relatively no information about them. Why would Elizabeth choose a man so much older? She very likely had more suitable younger suitors. Could it have been a second marriage for him or for her and were there any children of the marriage.

This couple would also have experienced the Great Flood of 1893. William died in the midst of the Great Depression and Elizabeth went through it all, the Boer War and the beginning of the 20th Century, the First and Second World Wars and the Depression, living on into the early part of the 1950's a time of some hope and optimism following the earlier bad times. Certainly Elizabeth would have had a lot to tell about her life.

Landmarks in Queensland are Bulcock Beach and Bulcock Street in Caloundra on the Sunshine Coast. Is that where the Australian side of the family originates from? (One of the early explorers of Australia bore the name Laycock.) The name more likely has its beginnings in England, perhaps Yorkshire, rather than Ireland like so many of the early settlers.

The Bulcock headstone too is a fine piece of granite of regular height in a simple square shape of the Anzac Memorial Type.

Rest in peace the Bulcock family.

Both the Balls grave and the Bulcock grave are enclosed by a low stone wall which appears to bind the two graves as one.

Timeline - Balls and Bulcock

Name Date of Birth Year Date of Death Year Age

John Irwin Balls 1856 21st June 1895 39

Sarah Balls 1864 13th June 1932 68

Florence Irene Kleimeyer 1892 16th April 1921 29

John Irwin Balls Jnr 1886 31st March 1926 40

William Bulcock 21st October 1854 15th November 1930 76

Elizabeth Edith Mary 17th August 1872 7th December 1951 79

Sarah Laycock 1818 27th November 1880 62

James Laycock 1822 2nd October 1893 71

Synopsis Brisbane late 1850's and into the future....

In 1859 the Colony of Queensland was formed and there began a flurry of building activity. By the late 1860's the main job of the police force was keeping the aboriginal tribes in control and sending them back to their encampments on the fringes of the settlement as evening approached. In the 1870's photography was well on its way. The railway line from Ipswich to Brisbane was reaching completion. Brisbane city would have been filled with traffic comprising wagons, cabs and drays. The greatest scourges of the time were typhoid and tuberculosis. In 1873 a flood delayed completion of the Victoria Bridge linking the north and south sides of the river. It was finally opened in 1874.

By their teens the four people highlighted in the above timeline would have been living in the midst of a thriving bustling Brisbane Town.

Brisbane at the turn of the 20th century would have been far from being a paradise for the European settlers. We all know that some summers can be almost unbearably hot and unlike today style of dress strictly adhered to Victorian standards. The women in heavy ankle length gowns, the men in breeches and waistcoats. Shoes were more likely to be a boot like structure than not for both men and women. And when it rained the streets would have been soggy and waterlogged. Then there were the periods of drought and shortages of food and water. Pigs and other animals abounded roaming the streets. Primitive sanitary conditions and medical care. The ever present danger of epidemics. The background fear of the Aborigines who quite naturally soon realized that their country had been unfairly taken from them and resented it accordingly.

Did the members of these two families meet in life one could wonder? That certainly could have been very likely as Brisbane was still just a large country town during these people's lifetimes. Today of course Brisbane has become a major city as metropolitan as any in Australia. Were these families' friends in some way?

What were the circumstances that have bound them together in death? Yes, some passersby will smile when they read the names as I did because it is so ironic. But it has also brought me to this, to try and give them some kind of voice. To record that they were living, breathing, thinking, feeling human beings before they left their lives behind.

I feel it is such a pity that for those who achieved some sort of fame or fortune during their lives, someone, somewhere would be sure to tell their stories and yet the silent majority remain silent even unto death.

Toowong Cemetery has thousands upon thousands of stories to give voice to. I would like to go on to write other stories, to tell some of those tales in the best way I can. I would like to write about the so called paupers and criminals (according to cemetery history delegated to the low lying ground).

What was considered criminal in that era and what is considered criminal today are two very different things. As for being a pauper, well many famous people ended up or were heading for a pauper's grave. Only through the grace of friends or family were some of them granted a better place.

Oscar Wilde the famous wit of the Victorian era comes to mind.

Extract -

"Gazing at the wallpaper of the room he lay dying in, he sighed: "Well, one of us had to go."

Quote - In 1900, Oscar Wilde died penniless and alone in a Paris hotel. He was buried without fanfare in the cemetery of Pére Lachaise. - Unquote

And then there is the story of Alfonso, 11 years old. I need to find his grave again.

His epitaph starts with the words

....They took you from me Fonsie

My darling baby boy........

His mother's anguish cries out clearly today as it did that long ago day when he died.

One young man's tribute to another young man with ends

With words unspoken

.....My heart is broken

This grave lies not far from the war dead section nestled under an overgrowing tree. The inscription is fast fading. I must return before it is too late.

There are the graves of two young women to find again. One died in the Granville train derailment and one in the Threadbo tragedy.

There are those who drowned and those felled by trees.

There is the jockey thrown from his horse 'Vibrator" (another irony).

There is the mother whose epitaph praises her hard work cooking and cleaning and caring for the children.

The lady who loved animals and has a little statue of a cat to mark her grave.

The children, always poignant.

The young soldier just 21 killed during the Second World War. His name and the dates of his death and burial are very significant to me which when I write his story I will detail. Again I could not help smile when I found his grave, buried as he is next to Hale and Dale.

As with the Balls grave he lies there unique in that he is the only person with that surname in the cemetery and likely to remain so for posterity.

The records state that his mother arranged his funeral and she lived in Rockhampton.

Old Persian saying

When you are sad, visit a cemetery

When you are happy, visit a cemetery





Voila! The End