Christmas 1921 with Ethel Turner and the Sunbeamers

No doubt, it won’t surprise you that I never intended to spend Christmas 2021 with Ethel Turner reconstructing Christmas 1921. To be very honest, I’d planned to spend Christmas Eve at Church, and Christmas Day with the whole shebang over at my aunt’s place. A regular Christmas over there can attract over thirty people with bodies in and out of the pool, and enough food to sink a battleship.

Me- Christmas 2021 overlooking Terrigal Beach

However, covid struck again. On Christmas Day alone there were 6 379 cases of covid detected in NSW. Church was cancelled entirely. Mum and Dad are in their late 70’s and went into isolation, and decided not to go to the big family Christmas. I couldn’t be sure our kids wouldn’t infect the family in Sydney, or that they’d unwittingly infect us. So, the four of us stayed home, and were mighty grateful for the three dogs to add to the head count. It was our year to go with wisdom from the Wizard of Oz: “There’s no place like home.”

Ethel Turner

Anyway, as I said, I didn’t intend to go back in time and spend Christmas 1921 with Ethel Turner and her band of Sunbeamers. However, that’s where the research trail took me. Besides, there’s been a lot of talk comparing 2020 to the 1919 Spanish flu pandemic, and I’ve just brought it forward another year.

Before I launch into Ethel Turner’s 1921, a bit of context might be helpful. I’ve covered that over at my other blog, Beyond the Flow, here: https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2021/12/28/christmas-1921/

However, Charles Dickens seemed to sum it up well with his timeless genius:

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way.”

Moving on to Ethel Turner…

Born on the 24^th January, 1870, Ethel Turner was 51 years old in 1921, and a year younger than I am now. She was married to Judge Herbert Curlewis and they were living at their home in Avenel, Mosman, Sydney although they spent Christmas 1921 at Palm Beach. Daughter, Jean,  was twenty-three, and son Adrian was twenty and studying Law at Sydney University. By Christmas 1921, Ethel Turner had had 22 of her handwritten  novels published, and King Anne was her offering for the year. She was famous.

However, for Ethel Turner it wasn’t the empty fame of celebrity. Rather, there was a strong sense of purpose and a desire to make a difference, and do good. While I can be dangerous to interpret Three Little Maids as being purely biographical, there is also much truth and Dolly (who is said to be Ethel) made this statement on becoming an author:

“One night…I felt I must do something. I felt I couldn’t just go on doing little things always,-staying at home and helping, and going to dances, and playing tennis. I used to think I should like to go as a missionary, – not to China, of course, only somewhere here where people were very poor and miserable. But that night I didn’t seem to want anything but to write books that people would love to read, and that might do them some good.[1]”

This aspect of Ethel Turner is often lost….the visionary, the world-changer, the woman who had experienced severe financial hardship as a child and travelled across the world for a better life, worked hard and overcome. She’s simply viewed through the lens of Seven Little Australians as though she were a one book wonder. Indeed, it appears that the massive difference she made to the lives of children through the series of children’s pages she edited has been forgotten, along with how she nurtured the artistic and literary abilities of younger generations through these pages. She was such an inspiration!

The trouble is that it’s very hard to condense an inspiration into a few lines or words to satisfy those who don’t want to immerse themselves more fully into the longer story. However, in this instance, can I caution you to sit down. Make yourself a cup of tea, and in the words of the great Molly Meldrum: “Do yourselves a favour!”

We’re going to pick up with Ethel Turner on the 20^th November 1921.  Sunbeams had only been launched on the 9^th October, 1921, and just over a month old, and still in the nest. Yet, that didn’t stop Ethel Turner from launching an ambitious plan to make a difference that Christmas:

“FROM A CHAIR IN THE SUN

ABOUT SUN FAIRIES

Dear Young People, — One of the many tastes we have in common, you and I, Is our love for conjuring tricks. Here is one I particularly want you to try. Take a child with the corners of its mouth right down and its eyes running over with tears (there are any amount of them in the hospitals and crowded back streets, alas). Go up close to it, and with a quick sleight-of-hand slip into its fingers a tiny doll as pretty as a fairy. In less than half a minute the eyes will dry and the mouth corners go up. This trick has never been known to fail. So now then, let us do it together. Your part is to buy a tiny celluloid doll or kewpie, dross it in something very fairylike — gay and pretty, or comical as an elf — put it in a, tiny box, and post or hand it in to “Sunbeams.” My part will be to find the children in the hospitals and back streets about Christmas time. I shall also examine the dolls carefully — we will call them Sun Fairies— and give three prizes of half-a-crown each to the three most attractive ones, and six “Sun” honor cards. You need send no coupon with this competition, as the doll will cost you anything from twopence to sixpence. Send December 1st.

Yours ever,

Ethel Turner[2]”

Ethel Turner received an enthusiastic and touching response to her call for contributions. On the 11^th December, 1921, she wrote:

“THE SUN FAIRIES

ROOMFUL OF WONDERFUL DOLLS DAME MARGARET DAVIDSON’S WINNERS

The response to the “Sun” fairies competition was splendid and many little “Sunbeams” will be cheered by the really wonderful little dolls sent in… It was a lovely spirit which prompted the competitors to send in the dolls — they were not concerned with winning prizes, but with doing something with their own hands which would give pleasure to children, to whom dainty dolls are a rare and precious luxury. Many of the children marked their entries: “Not sent in for a prize,” and pinned to almost every doll was a pretty little greeting to the recipient. They sat about all over the floor and the chairs and tables rather impatient in their boxes, just as trapped butterflies might be; they were eager to be gone upon their task of carrying sunshine. They were dressed in silk and spangles, in little frilly skirts of lace, in bridal gowns; in elf costumes; there were little mother fairies with tiny children around them, father fairies, fussy and important, fairies with opera cloaks on, and carrying bags; baby fairies, red riding hood fairies; one or two arrived with their beds and bedding, a few with suit-cases for the week-end and complete wardrobes. Wendy came, together with John and Michael, and Peter Pan. And wands! There were enough wands to have enchanted all Sydney and turned it to happy ways had they been held up. And no one, not any one, had forgotten the pretty little card with “From one Sunbeam to another” and other affectionate greetings. Dorothy Makin’s box of dolls, which won first prize, lacked only the bride groom to make the wedding party complete. But then it is so difficult to make a fairy-like creature of a man who should be dressed strictly in black. It was a rainbow wedding, and the bride chose ivory satin for her gown. She also had an overskirt of lace, and trimmed her whole frock with pearls. She wore the usual wreath and veil, and carried a bouquet of white blossoms and a fan. Her maids were frocked in rose, mauve, coral and eau-de-nil silk net, and wore quaint filets round their heads. Just by way of being different, they all carried fans instead of bouquets. Five little fairies, in five little boxes with five little Christmas cards, were sent by Betty Blake, who was second prize-winner. Betty dressed her fairies in white lace, showing beribboned petticoats. Glinting beads of gold and silver shone like spangles on the little dolls which will gladden the hearts of sick children on Christmas Day. Betty Grimm’s Sunbeamer was dressed in her party frock of rose-colored silk net, and she carried a lovely curling white feather fan. (But even fairies cannot live in party frocks all the time, so Betty sent along a box full of neatly made clothes for everyday wear, and did not forgot even a tiny tin of powder to powder her nose.[3]”

Of course, this touching story of generosity and human kindness is not complete without hearing about the sun fairies final destinations:

“THE SUN FAIRIES: How The Kiddies Loved Them”

I know that all of you who made a “Sun” Fairy will be delighted to hear how much joy they gave to the children who received them. Here are two letters which tell you all about them:–A.I.F. Wives and Children’s Holiday Association.

Furlong House, Narrabeen. Dear Sunbeams, — The dear little sun fairies arrived quite safely, and as fresh as when’ they left the designers’ hands. I am sure if the little donors could have seen the pleasure they afforded when received on Christmas Day they would be delighted to know they were indeed sun fairies in so much as they made radiance shine from each receiver’s face. With all good wishes to the Sunbeams from all the soldiers’ children at “Furlough House,” Yours sincerely, Ruby Fowle, Matron The second letter comes from Mrs Lyster Ormsby, who in the crowded streets of the city has for years sought to bring joy and sunlight into the lives of the little children there. Soup Kitchen for Little Children, 40 Burton-street, Darlinghurst. Dear Little Sunbeams,— I want to thank you for the dainty little ladies, fairies and babies the came to the Soup Kitchen during Christmas week. They came all neatly tucked away in a box, and was told they were to be given to some of the poor little’ girlies that I know as presents from “one Sunbeam to another. Well it happened that some of my little pals were hanging round when I unpacked your box and if you could have heard the “O-o-ohs” and “A-a-ahs” of admiration that came from them as I drew each dolly out of the box, you would have felt that you had sent a real sunbeam along. I gave your dollies away in many different quarters, and I feel sure you will be glad to know that each and every one received a warm and loving welcome from the new mistress. Among my little Soup Kitchen Girlies was one who has just left school and so felt too big for a doll. She always has a real live baby in mind-but still I could tell by the look in her face that she was just envying all the smaller girls; so I picked out a tiny kewpie doll that had been so prettily dressed in baby frills and I said: “I know you’re fourteen, Alice, and too big for dolls — (she thinks she is, you know) – but this is a Kewpie for luck and it goes on the rail of your bedstead. Would you like it?” She just loved it, and rushed off home to put it on her bed right away, “Good-bye, little Sunbeams, and a happy new year to you all from Inys Ormsby.[4]”

And now we’ll back peddle just a little, and read Ethel Turner’s Christmas Day letter to her Sunbeamers:

A VERY MERRY XMAS FROM A CHAIR IN THE SUN

Christmas Day

Dear Young People,—

Do you know Anna? What Anna? Merry Christmas anna happy New Year. Yes, I know this is the seventh time you have been asked this same joke, but that is the best about Christmas Day, isn’t it, there is such a rosy, kindly light everywhere, that you are ready to smile seven times at anything and everything. I hope that you are, every one of you, as happy as larks to-day: the boy with the sixpenny humming top, as well as the one with the expensive aeroplane. Happiness, real lark-like happiness, isn’t a thing to be bought with money; it is a thing right inside you. There is really an amazing amount of it lying about free in a sunshiny land like this; believe me it is not shut up in those expensive toyshops, pleasant though those places are. Happiness is just a little light, bubbling thing that you make for yourself, just as the lark makes its song. Good-bye till next week. Do you know Anna?

The Sunbeamer[5]

I hope you have been each to absorb each of these letters word by word, and truly absorb an Ethel Turner who might appear idealistic, utopian and off with the very fairies she was passing on. However, aim low has never had much of a ring to it, has it?!!

So, I hope you and yours are managing to find some of that lark-like happiness this Christmas and carry it into the New Year as well.

Best wishes,

Rowena Curtin

References

[1] Ethel Turner, `: Pg 302-303.

[2] Sun (Sydney, NSW : 1910 – 1954), Sunday 20 November 1921, page 2

[3] Sun (Sydney, NSW : 1910 – 1954), Sunday 11 December 1921, page 2

[4] Sun (Sydney, NSW : 1910 – 1954), Sunday 15 January 1922, page 2

[5] (Sydney, NSW : 1910 – 1954), Sunday 25 December 1921, page 22

A Writer’s Prayer – Ethel Turner.

At the outset, I warned you that I was going to expand your understanding of Ethel Turner, the English-Australian author of Seven Little Australians. Moreover, I might also have mentioned that I’m still reading her books as we go. So, I’m on a steep learning curve and a thrilling adventure, while also trying to nut out these posts. Life wasn’t meant to be easy, but it can be delightful!

At this point, I’m going to interrupt my own thoughts, and ask you how often do you read a book and find that the author has unwittingly expressed the innermost desires of your heart? They know you in a way that is so intimate and personal, that they couldn’t know you any better if they hopped inside your boots, put on your skin and merged with your heart and mind and became you? It doesn’t happen very often, does it? Yet, I keep having these moments where Ethel Turner knows me to the very deepest core of my being, and then some. I’ve shared a few of these moments already. However, while I was reading Three Little Maids, I found another.

I guess, in a way, I shouldn’t have been surprised. I have been writing seriously personally and professionally to some extent for years. I self-published an anthology of poetry back in 1992 called Locked Inside An Inner Labyrinth. I gave a solo reading in Paris at the Shakespeare Bookshop a few months later. However, since then, all’s been quiet on the publishing front. Of course, I want to have a book published. Indeed, multiple books. However, to have a book published, you first have to write it, and that’s my problem.

Anyway, I haven’t been above praying for this to come about, and recently after submitting my entry for the SBS Emerging Writers’ Competition, I had a heartfelt prayer for my story to win.

Indeed, it was that very week that I read Dolly’s equally impassioned prayer and I felt Ethel Turner had known me long before I was even born.

However, before I launch into her prayer, I’d better set the scene.

Three Little Maids was published in 1900. At this point, Ethel Turner had been married to Herbert Curlewis for six years and their daughter, Jean, was two years old. It has been said that elements of Three Little Maids are autobiographical, and that Phyl represents her older sister, Lillian; Dorothy or “Dolly” is herself and “Weenie” represents her younger half-sister, Jeannie “Rose”. The book is divided into two halves: Part I: Play Days and Part II: Scribbling Days. When the book starts out Phyl is ten, Dolly is eight and I don’t think an age is given for Weenie, but she could be five. By the end of the novel, the two older girls have left school and in real life, Ethel Turner was 24 when Seven Little Australians was published.

So, we’re well and truly into scribbling days and onto the second last chapter, when Dolly has received a very exciting letter. Barely able to speak through the excitement, she puffs:

“I’ve-I’ve-I’ve ___” she said, and excitement grasped her throat again, and she merely laughed and choked. Someone shook her again.”I’ve-written a b-book,” she said, thus urged.” 1.

We turn a few pages and then we come to the scene where Ethel Turner expressed the deepest, innermost cries of my heart:

“One night,” Dolly said, in the same low tone,” I felt I must do something. I felt I couldn’t just go on doing little things always,-staying at home and helping, and going to dances, and playing tennis. I used to think I should like to go as a missionary, – not to China, of course, only somewhere here where people were very poor and miserable. But that night I didn’t seem to want anything but to write books that people would love to read, and that might do them some good.”

“Well?” said Phyl, for Dolly had paused and was looking with glowing eyes at the happy sky.

“I just prayed, Phyl. It seemed so simple. God had said all things were possible to faith, – that we were to Ask, and we should receive, that all things whatsoever we should ask in prayer, believing, we should receive. He didn’t say we were to stop to consider if the thing we asked seemed impossible. He just said all things whatsoever. And I prayed, Phyl, that I might write books. All my life seemed to go in the prayer. And everything was – wonderful. I was kneeling by the window, and the sky seemed to bend down all around me, it was so warm and close. We have never known just what it is to have an own, Father, Phyl but I knew that night. And I prayed and prayed, and I knew. He was answering me. Of, Phyl, if you could have seen the stars, –  so large and kind!” 2.

I must admit that I’ve wondered whether praying to get this elusive book of mine published, was worthy of prayer. It wasn’t as materialistic as asking for a Porsche (or in my case a restored Kombi). It also wasn’t asking God to strike down my enemies, which really doesn’t sit well with values like loving your neighbour or forgiving your enemy seventy times seven. However, Ethel Turner has unwittingly legitimised my prayer, and she even suggested that a book might even be able to “do good”. That writing a book isn’t just pure self-indulgence.

Moreover, and I think this is something Ethel Turner does really well and it particularly stands out in her Sunbeams columns in the Sun newspaper. She understands, empathises with and has compassion for people from all walks of life. In her own life, she has known poverty and desperate struggle. She lost her father as an infant, and her step-feather when she was eight. However, on the 28^th March, 1930 her beloved daughter Jean died of tuberculosis, and this is what saw her stop writing novels altogether.

So, is it any wonder that I like the thousands of children who have flocked to Ethel Turner throughout the years, would also find a kindred spirit in her? A soul mate? Indeed, perhaps the greatest thing of all the greatest thing of all….hope?!!

I’d love to hear your thoughts on what I have called: “A Writer’s Prayer”. I wonder if you also relate to it? In that case, I say a silent prayer for you, and if you could spare a few prayers for my illusive book and the competition entry I’d also be grateful. It’s not easy being a writer, and not adding oneself to the dreaded waste paper bin!

Many thanks and best wishes,

Rowena Curtin

PS The illustrations in this post came from my grandfather’s German Bible, which was a 21st birthday present from his grandfather, Heinrich August Haebich of Hahndorf in South Australia. He was a blacksmith, while my grandfather was a Lutheran pastor. We had the Bible on the altar at our wedding, and I’d scanned some of the etchings into the order of service.

1. Ethel Turner: Three Little Maids, Ward Locke & Co., London, p. 296.

2. Ibid. pp 302-303

Madeleine Board / Honey – Another Author in the Turner Family

Welcome back to Tea With Ethel Turner. I apologise if you feel I’m taking the slow road to China here. I’m expecting things to speed up soon. However, I’m trying to sort out the biographical details of Ethel Turner’s early life. Given there’s the death of her father, her mother’s re-marriage, the addition of a half-sister, death of the step-father, emigration to Australia, her mother’s third marriage, the birth of a half-brother…it can get a bit messy and detail is required. After all, it’s hard to paint an authentic portrait when you gloss over all the details. They can also red pen existing biographies of Ethel Turner.

It is well-known that Ethel Turner’s older sister Lillian was her literary partner in crime, and also published books although less successfully than her younger sister. It is also well-known that Ethel Turner’s much-loved daughter, Jean, was also published and showing literary promise when she tragically died of tuberculosis when she was thirty. Lillian’s son also had literary flair. However, what I haven’t seen mentioned elsewhere is that Ethel Turner’s step-niece, Madeleine Board, was a moderately successful author, who also had a steady stream of contributions published over the years. So, this raises the question of whether there was more than just a genetic writer’s gene at play in the Turner clan.

Lucy “Madeleine” Board was born in 1886 to parents Lucy Turner and Thomas Board, an accountant. She had an older brother, Thomas (1885) and a younger sister, Gladys (1891). As I mentioned in my previous post, Lucy Turner was Ethel’s step-sister who accompanied the family out to Australia. So, she has no genetic relationship to Ethel Turner and older sister Lillian, although she is a half-sister to Jeanie Rose, the youngest of the “three little maids”.

It appears that Madeleine’s literary efforts were first recognised in 1901 when she was awarded a Highly Commended in a writing competition in the Sun newspaper. She was 15 at the time and attending Paddington Superior Public School (which Ethel Turner had also attended by the way) 1. On the 20th September, 1903 Madeleine won First Prize, Senior Division, Political Essay Competition ; subject, Sir Edmund Barton in the Sunday Times 2. On Sunday 13th November, 1904 she had a small essay published in the Sunday Times about the nature of conceit 3. She also had a number of good short stories published, including: “An Artist’s Picture” which won 1st prize in a Sunday Times story writing competition in 1905 4. In 1906, she was awarded a Gold Medal for her essay: “The Greatest Need of New South Wales”, which she saw as increased population, but along restricted lines 5.  In 1924, Madeleine married William Henry Honey. In 1926, she had a children’s book: Little Boo accepted by Ward, Lock and Co., who published Seven Little Australians. It’s hard to be sure of all her titles, and she wrote as both Madeleine Board and Madeleine Honey. However, I’ve also found: Secrets of River Valley and Diana.

Madeleine Honey died in 1942. She didn’t seem to warrant an obituary in the Sydney Morning Herald. Just these few lines from her husband in the hatches, matches and despatches:

HONEY.-April 19, 1942, at a private hospital, Lucy Madeleine, the beloved wife of W. H. Honey, of Edgecliff 6.

I hope my efforts compensate for that in a way. Moreover, I’m sure she would’ve been chuffed if she’d been alive to see this advertisement for “Books of the Week” listing her Secrets of River Valley one down from a Biggle’s book, even if it was for a bookshop out in Broken Hill.

Barrier Miner (Broken Hill, NSW : 1888 – 1954), Saturday 18 October 1947, page 6

However, before I head off, in the wider interests of Australian literature, I should mention that Madeleine’s husband, William Henry Honey, was also a successful published writer. Of particular interest, he wrote and illustrated Yoonecarra, which was published by Beacon Press. As I haven’t read it, I’ll defer to a review published in the Sydney Morning Herald on Saturday 22 February 1936:

“Hiawatha” has provided Mr. W. H. Honey with the verse-form, and more than one suggestion , for his narrative-descriptive poem. “Yoonecarra.” He may, in fact, be regarded as one of the most successful of Longfellow’s imitators. This poem tells the story of Yoonecarra chief of the ancient Kamilaroi tribe, who dwelt:

In a valley of luxuriance,

Wheie the lazy Gwydir wandered.

Slowly flowing to the sea-coast;

Where the maidenhair and tree-fern

Graced the river side with beauty . . .

In dreams he heard a ghostly challenge to leave his people and journey to the home of his ancestor and preserver, “Great Balame, king of heaven.” When almost In despair he reached this far country, and was welcomed, but had to return once more to see his tribe, before being translated to the other sphere altogether. His solitary adventuring offers Mr. Honey great opportunities for describing native customs, opportunities of which he fully and effectively takes advantage. There are, naturally, allegorical and didactic suggestions in the narrative, but they are not obtruded. With all this fresh material, however, the phrasing is conventional and rather commonplace. That defect contrasts strongly with the heroic atmosphere, too. The drawings, apparently, by the author, are skilfully done, while the whole publication, in an elaborate form with tinted paper, large type, and many incidental designs, is the product of a private local press, the Beacon. Everything has been done to ensure that the poem shall be read easily and pleasantly. (W. H. Honey, “Yoonpcarra,” Beacon Press.) 7.

Children’s book written by William Honey

So, it appears William Honey could warrant his own post. However, you might need to call on his ghost. After all, I am supposed to be having tea with Ethel Turner. That’s where I started out. Now, after three months of hard lockdown, I’m happy to have tea with anyone from a distance. I’m usually left having cups of tea with the dog. He’s usually glued to my lap with the keyboard teetering precariously across his back.

For your interest, I’m going to post a couple of Madeleine Board’s short stories, and then I’ll return to Ethel Turner and her family’s arrival in Australia. I really enjoyed these stories, and felt they ought to be shared- even if it meant me deviating off course yet again!

Thank you for joining me. It’s time for me to reboil the kettle.

Best wishes,

Rowena Curtin

Sources

1. Sunday Times (Sydney, NSW : 1895 – 1930), Sunday 27 October 1901, page 11

2. Sunday Times (Sydney, NSW : 1895 – 1930), Sunday 20 September 1903, p 9.

3. Sunday Times (Sydney, NSW : 1895 – 1930), Sunday 13 November 1904, p 7.

4. Sunday Times (Sydney, NSW : 1895 – 1930), Sunday 30 July 1905, page 7

5. Sunday Times (Sydney, NSW : 1895 – 1930), Sunday 27 May 1906, page 7

6. Sydney Morning Herald (NSW : 1842 – 1954), Monday 20 April 1942, page 10

7. Sydney Morning Herald (NSW : 1842 – 1954), Saturday 22 February 1936, page 12

     

The Mysterious Lucy Turner.

Welcome to another cup of tea with Ethel Turner. Or to be more precise, today we’re having tea with Ethel’s step-sister, Lucy Turner.

Considering they’re not biological related, it could be rather tempting to gloss over Lucy Turner, and move onto the family’s arrival in Australia. However, as biographical sleuths, we need to keep an open mind, especially before we weave the overall tapestry. There might just be a surprise!

Moreover, knowing more about the extended Turner family can also shed light on Seven Little Australians, which has been said to be based on the Turner household. Older sister, Lillian was four, and Ethel was only two years old when their mother married Henry Turner on the 21st August 1872. Lucy would’ve been around 14. A year later, their half-sister, Jeannie Rose, was born. Henry died in August 1878 and so they lived together as a family for around six years.

Lastly, knowing more about Ethel Turner’s real life gives us a better chance of sifting fact from fiction. Of particular interest, Ethel’s novel: Three Little Maids has been considered a somewhat autobiographical account of her early life. However, it is also fused with fiction, and as a biographical source warrants a more critical assessment. (We will get to that).

Bearing all this in mind, Lucy Turner certainly warrants at the very least an introduction. Moreover, all of this wrangling actually did produce a surprise.

Lucy Turner’s Story

To be perfectly honest, I only came across Lucy Turner when I found her included in the shipping records for the Turner family. On the 20^th January, 1880 Sarah Jane Turner and her three daughters: Lillian 12, Ethel 9, Rose 5 and Lucy Turner aged 21 years boarded The Durham in Plymouth as unassisted passengers. They arrived in Sydney three months later on the 23rd March, 1880. Ethel would have celebrated her 10th birthday on board. It has been said that Lucy brought her father’s ornate clock with her on the voyage, which bore the following inscription: “Presented to Henry Turner Jnr as a mark of esteem and respect by the employees of Messrs H. Turner and son, Brunswick Street Mills, Leicester , Dec 24 1869.” 2.

Although I haven’t been able to find a birth record for Lucy Turner yet, she did appear in the 1871 census. She was 13 years old and one of the six Turner children. They were living at St Margaret’s in Leichester East 1. This means she was born around 1858.

After arriving in Sydney, Lucy married Tom A. Board in Canterbury in 1884. He was an accountant and they had three children: Harold (1885), Lucy “Madeleine” (1886) and Gladys (1891). They were living at 36 Gordon-street, Paddington in 1912 when her husband passed away, after being runover by a tram.

It appears Lucy was a musician:

MUSICIAN ENTERTAINS.

Mrs. Lucy Board, who has recently taken up her residence In Turramurra gave an “At Home” recently. Among the guests were Mrs. J. Dobbie and Mr. Frank Edgar, the well-known composers 3 .

While it’s nice that her step-sister is musical, what is more interesting is that Lucy’s daughter, Madeleine Board, was a published children’s author- also by Ward Locke who had published Seven Little Australians.

Now, for those of you like me who compulsively chase rabbits down their burrow holes, let us continue. After all, when you’re considering the making of Ethel Turner, there’s always the genes versus environment debate. An obvious consideration is also how much influence Ethel’s career and her interest in teaching young people to write had over her step-sister’s daughter. It must also be remembered that Ethel’s younger sister, Rose, was a Turner and Lucy’s half sister as well.

So, now we are left investigating Madeleine before we’ve even touched on Ethel’s older sister, Lillian, and before they’ve even landed in Australia. I am addressing her now because she’s been left out of the Turner author narrative before, and because this side of the family is going to be dropped out of my narrative after this post.

On second thoughts, Madeline warrants a post of her own, and then we’ll move on.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Sources

1. Family Search 1871 UK Census.
2. A.T. Yarwood: From A Chair In The Sun, Ringwood, 1994, p 9.
3. Daily Telegraph (Sydney, NSW : 1883 – 1930), Tuesday 27 April 1926, p 2

The Beginnings of Ethel Turner.

Welcome Back to Tea With Ethel Turner.

While we’re having tea again today, I just thought I’d mention that yesterday marked three months since Greater Sydney went into Covid Lockdown 2.0. I’m in lockdown with my husband, Geoff, who is working from home and our two teenagers and three dogs. Not that I’m complaining. However, as good as Ethel Turner’s writing might be, it does help explain why I’m binge reading her collective works right now. That’s not because I’m bored out of my mind, and climbing the walls. Rather, I’ve been needing solace, and somehow she offers that. Ethel was an incredibly compassionate, loving person renowned for her generosity. As an extrovert and someone who is particularly vulnerable to Covid, I particularly need that at the moment. I need a hug from Aunty. At least, that’s how she was seen by her thousands of young readers.

Anyway, after that excessively chatty intro, today we’re leaping into our tea cup and flying saucer and travelling back to Ethel Turner’s early days.

Although Ethel Turner is known as an Australian author, she was actually born Ethel Mary Burwell on the 24 January 1870 at Balby, Yorkshire, England. Turner was her step-father’s name 1.

Little is known about her father Bennett George Burwell, other than that he was a commercial traveller. Her mother, Sarah Jane Shaw, was christened on the 11^th January, 1844 at St Mark’s Church, Lincoln, Lincolnshire. Her parents were William Shaw and Rebecca Hall. Her Sarah’s obituary states that her father “in his youth had seen military service in the West Indies and at Crimea”. In the 1851 Census, the Shaw family were living at St Mary Le Wigford, Lincolnshire, England. William was 50 years old and had been born in Melbourne, Derbyshire and worked as a stationer. They had five children and two servants and Sarah Jane was seven years old. Ethel Turner’s biography states that William Shaw, a professor of music and her mother was Rebecca (formerly Hall); they lived at St Marks in Lincoln and the family prospered to the extent of buying a well-equipped  stationers 2.

No record of Ethel’s parents’ marriage has been found, and it’s been suggested they were not married. Unfortunately, this also means a missed opportunity for finding out more about them.

However, the birth of Ethel’s older sister Lillian, pins the family down. Lillian was born on the 21^st August, 1867 at Gresham Street, Lincoln, Lincolnshire. Lillian was roughly two-and-a-half years old when Ethel was born.

Ideally, the 1871 British Census would show where the Burwell family was living at the time. However, I have been unable to find any record of Ethel Burwell, Sarah Jane Burwell, Jane Burwell, Lillian Burwell in the 1871 UK Census on Family Search. I’m happy to stand corrected. In fact, bring it on! There are a few rough bumps in Ethel Turner’s early years, and I thought it best to bring those out into the open and get them sorted once and for all.

Meanwhile, her biographer, AT Yarwood, claims Sarah was listed as Jane Burwell 25 years, husband commercial traveler abroad, Lillian three, and Ethel one and the family also had a domestic servant, Harriet Bywater, aged 15. I can’t find her either.3.

So, I’m putting the challenge out there. Can you help me please? Pretty please!

The Death of Ethel’s Father – Bennett George Burwell

Anyway, moving right along, Ethel Turner’s father apparently died in Paris around 1872. That must have been incredibly hard for Ethel to lose her Dad when she was just a toddler, and for her mother to be widowed with two young daughters to care for.

Mother Sarah Burwell Marries Henry Turner

On the 21^st August, 1872, Ethel’s mother, Sarah, married widower Henry Turner at the registry office in Yarmouth, Norfolk. They were both living at Simpson’s Temperance Hotel in Yarmouth at the time. After the marriage, Lillian and Ethel changed their names to Turner. Henry Turner was 46 years old when he married Ethel’s mother. He was a factory manager. A large ornate clock, which his daughter Lucy carried with her to Australia in 1880, became part of Henry’s legacy. It bore an inscription: “Presented to Henry Turner Jnr as a mark of esteem and respect by the employees of Messrs H. Turner and son, Brunswick Street Mills, Leicester, Dec 24 1869.”

The Family of Henry Turner

One of the questions that comes up regarding the identities and inspiration behind the Seven Little Australians, is whether these were the children of Henry Turner. I have managed to find Henry Turner, wife Mary and their six children in the 1871 Census where they were living at St Margaret’s in Leichester East (Source: Family Search):

Henry Turner – 38 Born in Burchett’s Green, Warwickshire. Occupation: Overlooker

Mary Turner – 34  – Born: Belgrave, Leichester

Henry Turner – 15 – Elastic Weaver

Kate MA Turner – 14

Lucy Turner – 13

Luke Turner -11

Samuel – 7

JT Turner – 5

Birth of Her Half-Sister – Jeanie Rose 1873

Returning to Sarah Jane and Henry Turner, daughter Jeanie Rose was born in 1873, while the Turners were living in the Wellington Villas, Amberstone Road, Leicester, about 40 km North of Nuneaton.

Death of Henry Turner

Tragically, Henry Turner died in August, 1878 in Coventry and was buried in an unmarked grave in Coventry Cemetery. Widowed once again, Ethel’s mother was now left with with three daughters: Lillian, Ethel eight and Rose five. Apparently, Henry Turner had only left them £200 when he died[1]. I’m not sure what that amounted to in their money. However, it doesn’t sound very encouraging.

The Turners Embark for Sydney, NSW.

Almost two years after the death of Henry Turner, Sarah Jane Turner and her three daughters aged 12, 9 and 5 embarked as unassisted passengers on board The Durham for Sydney – along with Sarah’s step-daughter, Lucy Turner, aged 21 years. They sailed out of Plymouth on the 20^th January, 1880 and arrived in Sydney three months later on the 23^RD March, 1880.

The family’s departure from England is a good place to draw the curtain on Ethel Turner’s early life.

Sydney 1880 when Ethel Turner and her family arrived. That’s the Sydney Conservatorium on the left. All so different to today!

Probably more than any other page, I am expecting to return back here as new information comes to light. I am still reading her biography: A Chair in the Sun and her diaries which were compiled by her grand-daughter, Philippa Poole. I am also about to start reading Three Little Maids, which is apparently heavily autobiographical about her early childhood with sister Lillian and her younger half-sister, Rose. That’s something to look forward to, and you can start reading if you want to keep up. Also, might I suggest that you also start reading Seven Little Australians. The suspense is brewing.

I look forward to seeing you soon!

Best wishes,

Rowena

References:

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[1] ADB Ethel Turner: https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/turner-ethel-mary-8885

2.A.T. Yarwood: A Chair In The Sun, p. 8.

3. Ibid p. 8.