‘Jolly Nuisance’: This O’Donnell Life – with an introduction by John Harms

 

 

 

Damian ‘Dips’ O’Donnell and his brothers were trying to come up with a meaningful present for their mother Mary on the occasion of her ninetieth birthday. They put together a collection of Dips’s stories from the Almanac site in a terrific anthology they called Jolly Nuisance. While this was published for Mary, it will appeal to a broader audience (copies are available HERE ).

The Table of Contents:

 

John Harms met Mary O’Donnell before he met Dips. In a classic moment of synchronicity, or is it serendipity, or maybe coincidence, he visited Dips’s parents in Melbourne in 1995.

Here is his introduction to Jolly Nuisance…

 

 

I’m not sure when, but nearly twenty years ago, I received a phone call out of the blue from a bloke called Peter ‘Hap’ Hannan. I don’t think I’d even met him at that stage, but had spotted him around Melbourne cricket and footy circles, probably through Kevan Carroll. Melbourne really is a sporting city, with a sports fraternity.

I was a columnist at The Age and doing The Conversation Hour with Jon Faine on ABC774 and a bit of other stuff. Offsiders was trying to attract an audience.

“A few blokes I used to coach are getting together at Baraka,” Hap said. “Would you like to come along?”

“Lunch,” I thought. “Why not.”

So, on a Friday afternoon, I caught the tram to Kew, wondering who these blokes were, and why they were getting together.

I learnt quickly that they were very good mates who were good at what they did. That included lunching.

They had mastered the key elements of lunch: an appreciation of good food, a genuine desire to quench their considerable thirsts, and a capacity to embellish any sporting moment in their lives sufficiently to turn it into a (detailed) story – all while batting away interjections. By the umpteenth bottle of red, participating in th conversation was like being at the deli in Coles: you had to take a ticket and wait for your turn to speak.

It hadn’t been like that the entire afternoon. When I arrived, the atmosphere was sedate and quasi-genteel. In the relative quiet of the opening ale, I was introduced to the bloke sitting at the end of the table. “Damian O’Donnell,” they said, as he put out his hand. But they all called him Dips.

“I reckon you know my uncle, Mike Selleck,” Dips said.

“Mike Selleck,” I said, animatedly. “I know him very, very well. He’s a very good friend of mine.”

Mike was then in his late sixties, and still teaching. I spoke to him quite often and caught up with him whenever I was back in Brisbane.

I had taught with him at St Peter’s Lutheran College in Indooroopilly. We actually sat opposite each other in Lohe House Staffroom and finished every week with a visit to the pub. Friday arvo beers at the RE in Toowong turned into more regular beers on the terrace at the St Lucia Golf Club, which was on the walk back to his unit.

We talked for hours, under that mango tree.

“Have you read St Augustine?” he would ask.

“Yeah, well, ah, not really,” I’d say.

“You young people, you just don’t read,” he’d say, grinning.

“I’ve got no time,” I’d say.

“Readers make time,” he’d say.

He suggested many writers, many poets, many titles, many articles, many journals, many everythings. Sometimes, he’d ring me up and say, “You got a minute?”

“Sure.”

“Can I read you something?”

“Please do.”

“Hang on,” he’d say, and the phone would go down.

I’d hear the sound of his glass being filled.

He’d pick up the phone and read me the poem he’d just written.

During those years, he was what the Germans call a professor-father to me. He was a mentor, and a critic. He knew I loved people and literature and history. H knew I wanted to write – one day. Perhaps when I was older.

He thought there was no point waiting; that I should just get on with it.

After reading one of my first attempts, on the tragedy of World War I, he gave the hand-written piece back to me and said, matter-of-factly, “If you’re going to be a writer, there’s one thing you’re going to have to do.”

He looked up.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Learn how to write,” he said.

But he always made me feel like I had something to say. He thought I had a project: to find joy in the valley of tears. And he helped me understand that writing is a craft, which can be developed and an art which is founded on the mystery of language.

When, sometime in the 1990s, I mentioned I was going to Melbourne to do some research for my doctoral thesis, he suggested I visit his sister Mary and her husband John O’Donnell. “They’ve got some stories,” Mike assured me. “JD O’Donnell won the Stawell Gift.”

I drove out to Montmorency, at Mike’s suggestion, and met John and Mary. I put my dictaphone on the table, turned it on, and we chatted for ages.

And, so, when I met Dips at that Baraka lunch, the penny dropped. Mike Selleck. John and Mary. Damian O’Donnell.

Dips began to submit the occasional story to the ABC’s Footy Unlimited web page, which I facilitated, and, when Paul Daffey and I set up www.footyalmanac.com.au, Dips became a regular contributor.

His first ever piece, in 2009, was about the significance of ANZAC Day. Throughout that year, and 2010, his enthusiasm for writing blossomed and his Almanac contributions included yarns on the Stawell Gift, the mahogany table of his childhood, and travelling to Barcelona. His belief that Gary Ablett junior would be crazy to leave the Geelong Football Club for the Gold Coast Suns featured a few times. A cricket piece was titled: ‘Akmal misses 50, Dips’s daughter misses the 48 tram’.

From the outset, I could see Dips had that delightful Selleck trait, the gift of telling stories of substance, just as his uncles, Mike and R.J.W. (the historian), did. He had their insight, which he offered in his own style, with his own brand of humour.

Another early story was about a Footy Almanac lunch. As Frances may tell you, Dips helped build the tradition of the Footy Almanac community getting together.

I have received stories from many writers over the years, almost all of which were published on the website after minimal editing. That’s usually a function of time. However, when I read Dips’s story of the 1984 Stawell Gift, I rang him to say it was a superb yarn, which we could publish straight away, but if we spent some time as writer and editor, he could develop it into a magnificent and memorable tale. He reckoned it was worth giving it a crack, and he produced a piece of writing which is still read today – and is remembered.

By then, Dips was introducing us to his family both in real life, and through his words. We got to follow Kate’s swimming career. We got to read about the annual trip to Yarrawonga where, it seems, good things happen. He showed us that they did.

He was developing his craft, and continues to develop it, as we all do as writers. But he was also showing us what was in his heart. Whether intended or not, his stories have purpose; they reveal the things that matter.

Throughout this time, Dips and I became dear friends. We have spent many, many hours chatting, often over a beer, well into the afternoon and evening and night.

He would send me articles to read, often by scholarly theologians and philosophers – just as Mike had, all those years ago. They often challenged faddish mainstream understandings of the world – just as Mike had, all those years ago. Some came from Catholic intellectuals whom he regarded – just as Mike had, all those years ago. I have received nothing written by Bob Santamaria.

He contributed in other ways too. His ongoing role in helping sustain Malarkey Publications must also be mentioned. He’s not bad with the loaves and the fishes.

When, just a few weeks ago, his brother Liam contacted me about compiling something for their mother Mary’s ninetieth birthday, I warmed to the idea instantly.

I think this anthology has come together beautifully. It’s in three parts: Family, Travel and Stawell. We could have included many more pieces. They can be found on the Almanac site.

I love the reason this book exists – for Mary. And I love how The Montmorency Six (the O’Donnell brothers) are grateful for the priceless gift they were given when they were born into the O’Donnell and Selleck families.

The substance in these yarns does not happen accidentally.

 

 

Should you have an interest, please send Dips a message directly or via the Almanac email. The cost is $25.00 plus postage. Obviously, it makes it cheaper if Dips can hand over the merchandise while enjoying a cold pot with you at the All Nations Hotel in Richmond.

 

 

Almanac Life: ‘Jolly Nuisance’

 

Read more yarns, including some from Jolly Nuisance, from Damian O’Donnell HERE.

 

 

 

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