In flawless autumn weather, some 250 family and friends gathered on the lawn in front of the log cabins at Treachery Head, on the afternoon of Wednesday 6th April, to celebrate the life of John Henry Brown. A more perfect location for Jack’s farewell could not have been chosen. The marquee and seating were set up on the spot where the original house had stood, looking out to that wonderful view of the Lighthouse on Sugarloaf Point. This was a place that had meant a great deal to Jack, and as his sons Bruce, Graham and Peter spoke in detail of their father’s life, it was clear how many happy family occasions had been enjoyed there.
A well attended memorial in splendid weather.
The formal part of the proceedings were sensitively conducted by Wendy Ballard, and after the loving tributes from family and friends, which included many favourite and humorous anecdotes, Mozart’s Piano Concerto 21 gave those present time to reflect on their personal memories of Jack.
The Memorial concluded with Jack’s granddaughter Sally reading a Banjo Patterson poem Sunrise on the Coast, which vividly evokes a new dawn. Jack had written of this poem:
“I have often watched this magic from my verandah at Treachery. A more beautiful scene is hard to imagine and this poem of Banjo’s says it all.”
Family and friends were then served refreshments and chatted at length, enjoying the balmy weather, the splendid setting, and each other’s company. It was all just as Jack would have wished.
SUNRISE ON THE COAST
by A.B. “Banjo” Paterson
Grey dawn on the sandhills – the night wind has drifted
All night from the rollers a scent of the sea;
With the dawn the grey fog his battalions has lifted,
At the scent of the morning they scatter and flee.
Like mariners calling the roll of their number
The sea fowl put out to the infinite deep.
And far overhead – sinking softly to slumber –
Worn out by their watching, the stars fall asleep.
To eastward where resteth the dome of the skies on
The sea line stirs softly the curtain of night;
And far from behind the enshrouded horizon
Comes the voice of a God saying, “Let there be light.”
An lo, there is light! Evanescent and tender,
It glows ruby-red where ’twas now ashen grey;
And purple and scarlet and gold in its splendour –
Behold, ’tis that marvel, the birth of a day!