Memories ... January

Remembering a Wedding Anniversary

(For my 'Family Anniversaries' page)

Like many people piecing together their family story, I began with only the basics about my parents - names, dates, and a few well-worn facts repeated over the years. Birth certificates, electoral roll records, old family photos and memories shared by an ever-decreasing family circle certainly helped with getting to know them not just as parents, but as people.  Even a marriage certificate, valuable as it is, can feel surprisingly spare: it confirms that a wedding happened, but it doesn’t always tell you much about the lived story behind it. It can’t show you how they met, what their world looked like, or what the day actually felt like for the families who gathered to witness it.

That’s why the recent finding of a newspaper notice of their marriage, with the support of a local historical society, was such a gift. Suddenly the wedding steps out of the formal record and into real life. A local newspaper item adds the colour and context that official documents rarely capture - where the families were living, who stood beside the bride and groom, what hymns were sung, the dress fabrics and flower colours, the small traditions borrowed from relatives, and even who made the cake. It turns a date on a timeline into a vivid community moment - and it helps me see my parents not just as “mother and father,” but as a young couple surrounded by faith, family, friends, and all the careful effort that went into a 1959 wedding in Bowen.

Here are the "black and white" facts I knew about before the newspaper notice arrived in my mail box:

“A Summer Wedding in Bowen”

In January of 1959, Margaret Brigid O’Donnell and Bede William Connors were married at St Mary’s Catholic Church, Bowen, Queensland - a mid-summer wedding that brought together two large, close families and the strong communities that shaped their lives: Queensland Railways, local sport and social clubs, and - most importantly for them - the Catholic Church.

For Margaret and Bede, Catholic faith wasn’t simply a backdrop to life. It was a foundation. Both were raised in families where the Church was central, and their belief remained strong, deep, and unwavering throughout their lives. Their faith shaped how they lived: with integrity, hard work, compassion, and a steady sense of responsibility to others. The Catholic community mattered too - friendships formed through parish life, shared traditions, and the familiar rhythm of Mass and sacraments. Choosing marriage within the rites of their Catholic faith was deeply important to them and to their families.

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Bede William Connors: a Queensland Railways man

At the time of his wedding, Bede was 34 years old.

He was born, along with his twin brother, at the Memorial Hospital in Maleny, Queensland, the son of George Thomas Connors and Grace Olive Brown. The family was living at Wootha, just outside Maleny at the time. His father George was working as a "milker" on various dairy farms, placing the family in the practical, hands-on rhythm of dairy farm life.

Shortly after the birth of Bede and his twin brother, Reginald, the Connors family moved south to the Beaudesert district where father George managed dairy farms for a prominent land-owning family.  This was a step into more structured, supervisory farm work while still rooted in the dairy industry. When Bede was around 10 years old, the family moved again - this time to the town of Gympie, where Bede spent the rest of his childhood and teenage years during the 1930s. 

He was one of eleven children born to George and Grace. While only nine survived infancy, Bede still grew up in a bustling household with four sisters and four brothers, including his twin. In large families like this, faith and family life often worked hand-in-hand: shared values, shared responsibilities, and a sense of steady care for one another.

Around 1940, Bede began work with the Queensland Railways, starting as a trainee fireman and working his way up through the ranks to become a train driver. His career carried him across the state, from Yandina in the south, all the way up to Bowen in the north and out to the west - work that shaped not just his career, but the networks of friends and community life that came with railway towns.

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Margaret Brigid O’Donnell: from Armstrong Creek to the Railways

On her wedding day, Margaret was 35 years old.

She had been born at home on the family farm near Armstrong Creek, close to the Kyburra railway siding between Ayr and Bowen. Margaret was the daughter of James O’Donnell and Sarah Mary Josephine McCane, and she grew up in a lively household with seven siblings: six brothers and one sister.

Margaret's family home was nestled amid sugarcane fields, vegetable plots and sparse bushland. Farm cycles, seasonal changes and harvest times anchored the everyday life for Margaret in the the rural community where she grew up during her childhood and teenage years.

Like Bede, Margaret  was raised in a world where Catholic faith was lived, not just spoken - with the Church at the centre of family life, and parish community offering friendship, support, and shared tradition. Those values stayed with her as she moved into working life.

Around 1940, when Margaret was around 18 years old, the O’Donnell family re-located to Bowen, and Margaret began working in the Queensland Railways Refreshment Rooms and was posted to places including Ingham, Charleville, and Bowen.  In those years of travel and work, the Catholic community - Mass, familiar rituals, and fellow parishioners - often provided a sense of continuity and belonging.

Aerial photograph of Bowen 1954

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Bowen, 1948: how a posting became a partnership

It was during Bede’s first posting to Bowen in 1948 - when he was 24 - that he met Margaret - who turned 25 that year.

Bede was a keen sportsman, active in cricket and table tennis, and through local teams he mixed with Margaret’s world: her brothers and cousins. In a place like Bowen, sport wasn’t just recreation - it was social glue, a way families and friendship groups overlapped until introductions became inevitable.

Margaret was introduced to Bede through her brothers, and soon they were part of the same Bowen social world: Railway Institute Balls, social dances, and community gatherings.

For a Catholic couple in a regional town, relationships often unfolded within overlapping circles - family, work, and church community where reputation mattered and people paid attention to character. Margaret and Bede’s story has that steady, grounded feel: a friendship that grew slowly, shaped by shared values, and supported by the communities around them.

And then - beautifully, and not at all unusually for the era - they took their time. After knowing each other for ten years, they decided to marry.

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Why marry in the middle of summer?

A mid-summer wedding can sound unusual now, but in regional Queensland in 1959, it made complete sense - especially for a working community built around rosters and leave.

• Right in the summer holiday window: The period from mid December to the end of January was when many workplaces slowed down or shut for a stretch. Families who lived out of town could travel more easily, and kids were already on school holidays (handy when you’ve got flower girls).

• Families could gather more easily: Relatives spread across the district (in Margaret's case) or the state (in Bede's case) could roll the wedding into the holiday break.

• A little symbolism, too: “New year, new start” isn’t subtle - but it’s lovely.

St. Mary's Catholic Church in Bowen during the 1950s.
Sadly, the church was destroyed by fire in 2003.

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Wedding Day Photographs: who’s who, and what the details tell us

The wedding photographs captured not only a family milestone, but also the look and feel of a late-1950s Catholic wedding in regional North Queensland - formal, beautifully arranged, and grounded in close family and community ties.

The bridal party portrait (formal line-up)

The first photograph is a classic late-1950s “official arrangement”: a symmetrical line-up, with bride and groom centred, flanked by attendants and family. Everyone faces forward, composed and still, reflecting the studio portrait style of the time. The panelled, wood-grain background suggests a studio setting where formal group portraits could be arranged efficiently after the ceremony.

Back row (left to right):

• Henry Allan — Best Man and Bede’s close friend

• Marcella O’Donnell — Bridesmaid and Margaret’s sister

• Bede Connors — Groom

• Margaret O’Donnell — Bride

• James O’Donnell — Father of the bride

• Margaret Pilcher — Matron of Honour and Margaret’s best friend

• James “Jim” O’Donnell — Groomsman and Margaret’s brother

Front row (left to right):

• Sandra — Flower girl and niece of the groom

• Carmel — Flower girl and niece of the groom

These photographs speak in the visual language of the late 1950s:

• The bride wears a full-skirted gown with long lace sleeves, a fitted bodice, and a veil attached to a floral/lace headpiece, typical of the late 1950s. Her multi-strand pearl necklace is a timeless bridal choice and photographs beautifully in black and white. The bouquet is dramatic and cascading, strongly resembling orchids - well suited to Queensland conditions and chosen for elegance and photographic impact.

• The groom and groomsmen are dressed in a dark suits with boutonnières and holding white gloves - a small but very period-perfect sign of formality and “best suit” tradition.

• The father of the bride is placed close to the couple, wearing a dark suit with a boutonnière, visually marking his honoured role on the day.

• The bridesmaid and maid of honour are both wearing tea-length dresses, extremely common and practical for daytime weddings.

• The flower girls hold folding fans, both charming and practical - quiet evidence of the January heat and humidity in North Queensland.

The bride and groom portrait (closer view)

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The wedding notice that brings the day to life

The local newspaper wedding notice adds vivid detail, colour and context:

Bowen Independent, 6 February 1959, p. 5 — wedding notice for the marriage at St Mary’s Church, Bowen, in January.

The notice confirms the setting and family details, describing Margaret as the elder daughter of Mr and Mrs J. O’Donnell of Dalrymple Street, Bowen, and Bede as Bede William (“Bernie”), son of Mr and Mrs G. Connors of Gympie. 

It also names the officiant: Rev. Father O. Rush, P.P. - a small detail, but one that anchors the wedding in the lived parish history of St Mary’s.

It paints a moving picture of a full Catholic wedding day: as Margaret entered on her father’s arm, the choir sang “On This Day, O Beautiful Mother”, and the notice tells us there was singing throughout the Nuptial Mass - a reminder that this wasn’t only a ceremony, but worship, tradition, and community participation.

Dress details: a perfect snapshot of 1959 style

The notice gives a wonderfully specific description of Margaret’s bridal outfit:

• a frock of flock nylon tulle over heavy satin  (flock nylon is a soft, sheer, fine net-like fabric bonded with velvet-like dots / patterns)

• an elbow-length veil in three tiers

• a scalloped headdress trimmed with daisies and seed pearls

• and a bouquet of mauve and white orchids with lily-of-the-valley
  
  

It even includes details about treasured borrowed items: a white satin horseshoe and slipper, owned by her sister-in-law - exactly the kind of family tradition detail that rarely survives unless someone wrote it down at the time.

Pastels, full skirts, and coordinated elegance

The same notice describes the bridesmaids' fashion in a way that perfectly matches the late-1950s look:

• Marcella (bridesmaid) and Mrs. Noel Pilcher (matron of honour) wore frocks in lemon and pink, with round necklines, full skirts, pleated taffeta drapings, and large bows at the back.

• Their headpieces were curvettes made from the frock material, and both carried fans trimmed with lily-of-the-valley.

The two flower girls - Sandra and Carmel - wore miniature replicas of the bridesmaids' dresses in mauve and green, with circlets of tiny white flowers and matching lily-of-the-valley-trimmed fans.

One beautiful unifying detail: all the women and girls wore single strands of pearls, gifts from the bridegroom. That’s not just fashion - it’s a tangible expression of care and tradition.

Using the information from the wedding notice, it was an absolute joy to add colour (using AI) to the original black and white photos.  It may not be an exact match, but it does bring the photo to life.

Music, community talent, and family work behind the scenes

The wedding notice also captures and confirms the “who did what” that makes a wedding feel real:

• Henry Allan was best man, and James “Jim” O’Donnell was groomsman.

• During the register signing, “Ave Maria” was sung by Mrs. Jim O’Donnell (the bride’s sister-in-law, the wife of her brother Jim) - a lovely example of family talent being part of the day.

• The reception was held at the Railway Institute Hall, and the mothers hosted together:

  • the bride’s mother - Sarah O'Donnell nee McCane - in pink floral nylon with pink and black accessories

  • the groom’s mother - Grace Connors nee Brown - in mauve floral sheen with grey and mauve tonings.

Even the cake has a story: a three-tier cake made by the bride’s mother, and beautifully iced by cousin Miss Jean McCane and sister Marcella - a perfect snapshot of women’s work and pride behind the scenes, and the kind of detail families love to remember.

To finish, the notice mentions congratulatory telegrams arriving from as far away as New Zealand, and a honeymoon at South Molle Island - a romantic ending that places the couple right in their North Queensland world.

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What the wedding notice tells us (and why it matters)

Newspaper wedding notices are little time capsules. Unlike official records, they preserve the human details that families most want to remember - and that genealogists rarely get anywhere else:

• Addresses and local identity: naming Dalrymple Street, Bowen, places the O’Donnell family on the town map, not just in a certificate index.

• Catholic life in action: the mention of the Nuptial Mass, hymns, choir, and “Ave Maria” shows how central faith and parish community were to the day.

• Relationships and roles: it confirms who stood with the couple - family, close friends, and the way those roles were honoured publicly.

• Fashion and colour: it records the exact pastel shades (lemon, pink, mauve, green) and the signature 1950s silhouettes - details that bring black-and-white photos to life.

• Behind-the-scenes family work: the cake made by the bride’s mother, iced by the bride's cousin and sister, reveals the shared effort and pride that went into the celebration.

• Wider connections: telegrams from as far as New Zealand and a honeymoon at South Molle Island hint at the couple’s broader network and the scale of the occasion.

In short, this notice doesn’t just tell us that Margaret and Bede married - it shows us how the day felt, who gathered around them, and what their community valued in 1959.

The Story Of Some "Heirloom" China

How Part Of Our Family’s Story Lives On In Two Dinner Sets

The history of my family tree has been growing and branching in all directions as my research has continued. But so far, not a single titled lord, lady, baron or baroness has emerged from the leaves of my lineage.

Instead, what I keep finding are generations of hard-working, stoic, resilient people who spent their lives putting in long hours of toil to support and care for their families. Their days were filled with shift work, farm work, house work—whatever it took. Meals were sometimes meagre, and the finer things in life never miraculously appeared along their paths.

If there is a single thread running through our family stories, it isn’t wealth. It’s hard times, hard luck, and hard work - stitched through with a lot of heart.

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Thin on the Ground: Heirlooms from Ordinary Lives

Because of this, heirlooms in our family are thin on the ground. Most of my forebears simply could not afford items of great monetary value. Life was about putting food on the table and clothes on the children’s backs, not about amassing silverware and antiques.

So as I document my family tree, I don’t have boxes full of jewels or trunks filled with portraits in gilt frames to help tell our story. Instead, I have to look more closely, to notice the quieter objects that have travelled from hand to hand.

In my own close family line, it has been china that has carried meaning and been deemed “special” enough to pass down. Plates, cups, saucers — fragile, everyday objects that somehow survived the decades when so much else was used, broken, or thrown away.

Two dinnerware sets in particular have become small but powerful anchors in our family story.

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The “Too Good for Everyday” Set: Royal Doulton Orchids

When my parents married 66 years ago, my mother's family (the O'Donnells and McCanes) gifted them a rather special dinnerware set as a wedding gift: a 54-piece Royal Doulton “Orchids” set, with a lovely floral pattern, soft pastel colours, and elegant black edging (probably made in the 1930s or 1940s).

For a young couple starting out, it must have felt incredibly precious — something a little bit luxurious amid the practical pots and pans of everyday life.

This was not the kind of china you stacked in the kitchen cupboard next to the chipped mugs. This was “best.”  As soon as my parents received it, the set went straight into the china cabinet.   

In many homes of that era, the china cabinet was more than a piece of furniture; it was a stage. Everything inside it—wedding gifts, crystal bowls, decorative plates — was proudly displayed like a badge of honour. 

These were the things that said, “We have something nice. We’ve made it just that little bit further than our parents did.”

The Orchids set was “too good for everyday use” and was carefully “kept for best.”

The funny thing is, in many working families of that era, “best” never quite arrived. There is always some reason not to risk the good china: children are too young, life is too busy, there’s always a chance something might get broken and replacement was not affordable option.

And so, year after year, my parent's wedding gift dinnerware set stayed inside the cabinet, unused. For at least forty years it sat there untouched, gathering stories but not crumbs. It became less an everyday object and more a symbol of hope, pride, and possibility — quietly overlooking the ordinary meals eaten just a few steps away.

When the time came and the Orchids set was passed on to me by my father, I did exactly what tradition dictated: I put it straight into my own china cabinet. But I have also tried to break the pattern just a little.

I still treat it with care, but I do use it — for special celebratory dinners, for morning teas, or family lunches. Each time I set the table with those delicate plates and cups, I feel I’m honouring both the people who gifted it and the ones who carefully guarded it for decades.

It’s a privilege to use these beautiful objects, to let them do the job they were made for, while sharing the story behind them with whoever is sitting around the table.

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A First Pay Packet and an Art Deco Treasure

The second heirloom set in my care has an even older story stitched into its rims and bands.

About 85 years ago, a young man — my father — received his first few pays. Instead of spending them all on himself, he decided to buy a special gift for his mother (my grandmother Grace Connors nee Brown). With that hard-earned money he purchased a 42-piece Art Deco style dinnerware set.

This set has a cream base colour, with distinct brown and green bands and fine gold-line detailing. The pieces are stamped "Made in England" and were likely made in the 1930s — sturdy, well-regarded dinnerware for families who wanted something nice for their table, but didn't cost the earth.

I imagine my grandmother unwrapping that gift: her son’s first wages transformed into something beautiful for her home. For a woman used to stretching every shilling, it must have felt like a small miracle. That dinner set wasn’t just china; it was love, pride, and gratitude glazed and fired into something she could touch every day.

Decades passed. Families shifted, households broke up and formed again, and that set travelled through time without tarnish or breakage. Eventually, it came into the hands of a close cousin of mine.

Last year, after we reconnected following nearly 40 years of limited contact, she made a generous decision. She told me that she wanted to pass the set on to me, trusting that I would care for it and, in time, pass it on to the next generation of my father's descendants.

That moment felt like a quiet, full-circle turning of the wheel. The gift my father once chose for his mother with his very first pay packets had come back into my branch of the family tree. It had travelled from grandmother to cousin (via a couple of my aunts) to me, carrying within it all the ordinary days and special celebrations of at least three generations.

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More Than Plates and Cups

When people think of heirlooms, they often imagine jewels, grand paintings, or antique furniture. My close family’s treasures are humbler: two dinnerware sets — one Royal Doulton Orchids from my parents’ wedding, and one Art Deco set my father bought for his mother.

They may not fetch a high price at auction, but their value is not measured in money.

They speak of:

• Hard work: first pay packets turned into a gift, not a treat for oneself.

• Hope and pride: china “kept for best,” displayed as a sign of having something to show for years of labour.

• Connection: a cousin choosing to pass an heirloom along the family line, trusting it will be cherished and carried forward.

In a family tree full of people who rarely had spare coins, these fragile, beautiful objects are proof that they still sought beauty and celebration where they could.

When I set the table with these plates today, the past is suddenly very close. My parents, my grandmother, my father as a young man with his first wages, my cousin thinking about the future — they all seem to be gathered quietly around the table with us.

We may not have aristocrats in our branches or castles in our past, but we do have stories, love, and resilience fired into porcelain and edged in gold. And in the end, those are the heirlooms that matter most to me.

The Story Of An Heirloom Ring, An Old House and Four Generations of Lismore Women

In the late 1800s and early 1900s, women’s names could easily disappear from the public record. Official documents often listed them only as “wife of” or “daughter of”, and many everyday details of their lives went unrecorded. That’s why small newspaper items — wedding notices, social snippets, obituaries and human-interest stories — are so precious.  

Finding these written words is like finding treasure!  During my family tree research, I discovered a handful of such clippings that not only named a group of women related to each other (and to me), but described their homes, their work, and even the jewellery they wore. Together, these newspaper clippings allowed me to follow an unbroken female line across four generations of the same family located in Lismore, New South Wales.

Our common ancestors are:  James Exton and Susannah Lancaster.

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When Peggy Eleanor Fraser (my paternal 3rd cousin once removed) walked up the aisle of St Paul’s Presbyterian Church in Lismore to marry Lawrence Harold Stumbles, the local newspaper - The Northern Star - published a short article that made a point about her “something old”, highlighting the fact that Peggy wore a wedding ring that had once belonged to her great-grandmother.

That small circle of gold linked four generations of Lismore women:

• Peggy Stumbles née Fraser   1924 - 2004

• her mother, Minnie Isabel Fraser née Atkin   1885 - 1962   

• her grandmother, Eleanor Jane Atkin née Jones    1863 - 1957   

• and her great-grandmother, Harriet Jones nee Lancaster-Exton (later Harriet Brown)    1833 - 1915

Their lives can be traced through a series of Northern Star newspaper items, each one adding more valuable detail about this family line on my family tree.  

Let's begin with the great grandmother mentioned in the article  ...

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Harriet Jones née Lancaster-Exton 
– the pioneer matriarch

(my paternal 2nd great-grandaunt)

After emigrating in 1844 from Lincolnshire in England to the Richmond District in New South Wales, Australia as a child with her "parents" James Exton and Susannah Lancaster, she spent about seventy-seven years in the area.

There is no definitive evidence that James was her father as her baptism record identified her as "illegitimate", and her mother's name was listed as "Harriet", not Susannah.  It's likely that Susannah was indeed her biological mother, but did not want her name on the record.  Whatever the circumstances of her birth, Harriet became the child of James and Susannah, and they were listed as her parents on her immigration record.

A few months before her fifteenth birthday, she married convict John Jones, with whom she had nine children. After his death she later married Henry George Brown, and had two more children. 

A detailed feature on the Exton family, printed in the Northern Star in 1995, adds rich context to Eleanor's life.

• Harriet's working life centred on sheep stations during her early teenage years, where she worked alongside her parents.  

• In 1860, thirteen years after her first marriage, her husband John Jones built a home for his growing family on the bank of the Richmond River at North Lismore, near what later became Arthur Park. 

• That house, lined with cedar panels and a teak floor, was known as 'Lochiel Cottage' at that time.

• From this home base, Harriet worked as a midwife for the surrounding countryside, riding out on horseback to attend women in labour.

• The Jones home later became known as 'Lochiel Hospital', a private and maternity hospital.  Significantly, the tradition of caring for local mothers and babies was carried on by her daughter and granddaughter at 'Lochiel' until 1927.

A much later clipping, written in 1981, when a reunion was being organised for people born in the house, confirms that 'Lochiel' operated as a private and maternity hospital between 1911 and 1927.

This Northern Star newspaper item explains 

• that Mrs Jones (Eleanor) “became the midwife for the surrounding countryside, making many of her visits on horseback,” 

• and that one of her daughters (Minnie) married Joseph Atkin, continuing the family’s involvement in the hospital.

The item goes on to explain that the house is now owned by Mrs. Fraser (Peggy) of Brisbane.  While mention is made that Mrs. Fraser's late husband was "a descendant of the Atkins", this was not correct.  It was Peggy who was a direct descendant of the Atkins - her grandmother Eleanor had married an Atkin, and her mother Minnie's maiden name was Atkin.

Returning to the matriarch of the family, Harriet, her long life is described in her 1915 obituary in the Northern Star. It describes her as one of the oldest links with Lismore’s past history. 

Her obituary notes:

• She passed away at the home of her daughter Mrs Joseph Atkin (Eleanor Jane Atkin nee Jones) in North Lismore, the same daughter who continued her midwifery and nursing tradition at 'Lochiel'.  

• By the time Harriet died in her late eighties, she had nearly 200 descendants – children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren – and was remembered for her bravery and hard work during the earliest days of settlement.

Through these articles we see Harriet not only as a pioneering settler, but as the founding figure in a three-generation line of local midwives and nurses.  Even in 1981, when the reunion at 'Lochiel' was announced, Harriet's legacy was still visible.  One of the prized objects to be displayed was the hospital's first admission book.  Harriet's home, and her life's work, had become recognised as an important part of Lismore's heritage.

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Eleanor Jane Atkin née Jones 
– “Mrs J. Atkin” of North Lismore

(my paternal 1st cousin 3x removed)

Eleanor - whose name sometimes appears in the records as Elena - was one of Harriet's daughters, and known to family and friends as 'Lena'.

It is easy to imagine that at some point that treasured wedding ring of Harriet’s passed to this daughter Eleanor, and then further down the line.

A short family notice from and edition of the Northern Star published in February 1882 records Eleanor's marriage:

This tiny notice tells us several important things:

• Eleanor / Elena married Joseph Atkin in 1882, when she was 19 years old.
• The ceremony was held at her mother Harriet's home (Lochiel) in North Lismore - the cedar house where Eleanor had grown up.
• Eleanor's father, John Jones, was deceased by the time of her marriage.

Eleanor and her husband Joseph bought and lived in Eleanor's parents' home, 'Lochiel' during their married life, and both Eleanor and her daughter used this home as both a private and a maternity hospital between 1911 and 1927.

In 1932, the Northern Star reported the golden wedding of Mr and Mrs J. Atkins of North Lismore - the surname was incorrectly recorded as 'Atkins' when it should have read 'Atkin'.

The article tells us that:

• The bride (Mrs Atkin) was 68 years old.

• She was a daughter of the late Mr and Mrs John Jones.

• The celebration took place at their home “Lochiel” in North Lismore, confirming that Eleanor remained closely connected to this remarkable house.

• Although the article states that 'Lochiel' was built by Eleanor's brother Oliver Jones, this was of course not correct.  The home had originally been built by Eleanor's father, John Jones, was 72 years old and had remained in the family.

This 1932 article included a photo of 'Lochiel', looking a little different to the photo later published in 1981.  Obviously things changed over the years and the house developed with the generations.

In 1949, an article title "Pioneer Family" shows Eleanor now 85, described as a well-known pioneer and trained nurse, sitting with three generations of her descendants.  

The photograph features:

• Mrs J. Atkin - Eleanor Jane Atkin nee Jones - (on the right)

• Mrs S. Fraser - Minnie Isabel Fraser nee Atkin - (on the left);

• Mrs Stumbles (incorrectly recorded as Stimbles) - Peggy Eleanor Stumbles nee Fraser - (in the middle);

• and baby Janette Stumbles, the youngest member of the line.

Together these notices show Eleanor's journey from her 1882 wedding at her family home, through decades of nursing and midwifery at 'Lochiel', to her later years as a respected "pioneer" of North Lismore, continuing her mother's tradition of caring for local families.

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Minnie Isabel Fraser née Atkin 
– the bridge between generations

(my paternal 2nd cousin 2x removed)

The “Pioneer Family” caption names Eleanor’s daughter as Mrs S. Fraser. This is Minnie Isabel Atkin, who married Alexander “Sandy” Fraser.

Peggy’s wedding report later identifies her as “a daughter of Mrs M. Fraser and the late Mr Sandy Fraser, of Terania Street, North Lismore.” 

That tells us:

• Minnie is Peggy’s mother.

• Sandy Fraser had died by the time of Peggy’s marriage.

• The Fraser family were firmly settled in North Lismore.

Minnie was the granddaughter of immigrant matriarch Harriet, daughter of the pioneering nurse Eleanor, mother of the modern young bride Peggy,and grandmother of the baby Janette . 

Given the wording of Peggy’s wedding notice, Minnie was almost certainly the custodian of Harriet’s wedding ring, passing it on to her daughter on the day of her marriage.

Minnie also appears to have been the custodian of the family home 'Lochiel', as the 1981 article notes that the house was then owned by Mrs Fraser of Brisbane, showing that the family connection to Harriet’s old home continued well into the twentieth century.

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Peggy Eleanor Stumbles née Fraser 
– the heirloom ring bearer

(my paternal 3rd cousin once removed)

The wedding notice for Peggy Eleanor Fraser and Lawrence Harold Stumbles supplies the final link.

From it we learn that:

• The ceremony took place at St Paul’s Presbyterian Church, Lismore.

• Peggy was given away by her eldest brother, Mr Ian Fraser.

• She wore a gown of white lace over satin with a coronet of frangipani, and

• as her “something old”, Peggy wore a wedding ring which had belonged to her great-grandmother.

Family knowledge identifies that great-grandmother as Harriet Jones nee Lancaster-Exton.

A few years later, in that "Pioneer Family" photograph, Peggy appears again - this time as Mrs. Stumbles (incorrectly spelt as Stimbles in the article), holding her baby girl Janette.  Her mother Minnie and grandmother Eleanor sit beside her, while Harriet's memory is present in the background, symbolised in the heirloom ring.

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Why these clippings matter

In eras when many women’s stories were rarely written down, these brief newspaper items are extraordinary gifts. They give me more than just names and dates; they preserve addresses, occupations, ages, and valuable human details — a house called 'Lochiel' on the riverbank, lined with cedar and teak; a lifetime of nursing and midwifery; a wedding held in a family home which could possibly have been the oldest house in Lismore; a ring passed from pioneer great grandmother to modern bride.

Because of these scattered lines of print, I can follow the female line from Harriet to Eleanor, to Minnie, to Peggy.  In doing so, I can restore these amazing women to the centre of their own story — exactly where they belong.

Special Note to any family members:  

If you have memories to add, photos or information to share, or perhaps corrections that need to be made, can I graciously ask that you do so by either using the comments box below or email me via the contact form at the top of my blog.  

Spotlight On ... Three Brothers and Three Dogs

This is another of my "Spotlight" posts - a way of sharing precious family photos that capture wonderful moments in time, but often those moments have no context and no story attached to them.

Family historians know that feeling, when a wonderful old photograph has no caption, no note in the album, and no one left from that generation to ask "What was happening here?".  

Yet even a "silent" picture can speak volumes when we look closely, delve deeply and make every effort to set it within our family context.  This is one of those photos:

Connors Brothers
Photo shared by Keith Connors (my cousin)
Keith's father is on the right

It's a particular favourite of mine.  At first glance, you can see three young men - my paternal uncles - seated in a neat row on wooden chairs, outdoors, against a backdrop of vines and a timber verandah.  A blanket has been laid on the ground in front, which tells me this wasn't a casual snap but a carefully staged family portrait, likely taken to mark a very special day for the Connors family. 

Who's who (left to right)?

• Thomas Richard "Tommy" Connors (left): looking very dapper with a short back-and-sides haircut; sporting a jacket over shorts; a detachable-style collar with a bow tie; knee socks and lace-up ankle boots.

• George Thomas Connors Jnr. (middle):  youthful George, named after his father, wearing a short-pants suit; long socks with turnovers / garters; and high lace-up boots.

• Colin Vincent Connors (right):  looking cool and confident with fuller, swept hair; a suit with a soft detachable collar and necktie; and lace-up boots.

Dating the Photograph

These young men were the eldest sons of my paternal grandparents, George Thomas Connors and Grace Olive Brown.  After these three, there was a seven-year gap before another son, Leo, was born in 1921 - heart-breakingly, he died in infancy.  Three years later, twin sons arrived in 1924 - my father Bede William and his twin brother Reginald Frederick Connors.

Those milestones help bracket the likely date of this picture.

The young men are dressed to the nines - short-pants suits, smart collars, polished boots - suggesting a significant occasion.  It's easy to imagine them about to head off to church ... perhaps for their newborn brothers' baptism in late 1924, or perhaps a relative's wedding, like their cousin George Thomas Bates's wedding in mid 1925.  

On balance, I cautiously date the photo to 1924 or 1925.  If so, their ages would be approximately:

• Thomas Richard (Tommy): 13 - 14
• George Thomas Jnr.:  10 - 11
• Colin Vincent:  16 - 17

The Dogs That Stole The Scene

What I love most about this family photo though, is the unexpected presence of the dogs.  This is a rare photo in my family tree album, as it is the only one where beloved family pets are captured in a candid family photo.  

The dogs have quietly slipped into the composition and settled themselves at the brothers' feet - as if they knew something important was happening and wanted to stay close to their "pack".  George, seated in the middle, appears to be the only one without a canine companion in the frame; two dogs are nestled up near Tommy and the other dog is attempting to sit in Colin's lap.  Obviously that's not the done thing when you're all suited up ready for a special family event!

With athletic builds and alert ears, these dogs look every inch the working-dog types - perhaps kelpies or cattle dog mixes - confident, calm, and clearly well handled.  Their inclusion transforms this picture from a formal family record into a warm glimpse daily life:  good clothes for a big day, but still very much a household where dogs were family too.

To end this post, I'm adding a touching video created with the Live Memory tool on the My Heritage website.  It's really remarkable seeing the photo literally 'come to life' and witness what might have happened in that moment:

Special Note To Family Members:  If you have heard family stories or memories about this photograph that could narrow the date or confirm the occasion, I'd love to hear from you.  Even a small clue - a baptism notice, a family wedding invitation, or a remembered detail about the dogs - could you help turn this "silent" picture into a fully captioned chapter in the Connors family story.