
Irish Famine Memorial custodian Tom Power shows Irish president Mary McAleese around the Sydney monument during her state visit in 2003.
Long way to Tipperary for man of faith, conviction and passion
TOM POWER, the custodian of Sydney’s beautiful Monument to the Great Irish Famine, has packed more into his almost 80 years than most people could fit into two or three lifetimes. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I grew up on a farm in Powerstown, Co Tipperary and I was the 10th of 12 children,” he told the Irish Echo.
“My father worked from morning until night and I never remember him having a holiday.
“He might go off for a day to see a football match or something like that, but I never remember him taking off for a week or even two or three days. I’d say the man never slept outside his own house.
“We weren’t desperately poor, we had plenty to eat, that’s for sure. But we didn’t have a great deal of money. During the ’30s England wouldn’t buy any cattle or wheat from us because de Valera refused to pay the annual premium to England that was the price of our freedom.
De Valera said ‘we’re not going to pay it anymore’, so the British said ‘if you don’t pay it, well then we won’t buy any of your goods’.
“That caused a lot of strife, heartbreak and want in Ireland,” said Tom.
Like many children, Tom was not conscious of the struggles his parents went through.
“We had a very happy childhood and we weren’t aware of all the problems Ireland had at that time with the economic war [with Britain].
“I only learned in later years that my father was practically penniless during the ’30s. They were tough times.
“It was only when the Second World War came along that Irish produce could be sold in England again. You could say the war in a certain sense saved us,” he said.
Tom entered an Augustinian seminary when he was 13. Aged 19 he went to Rome for six years to do a degree in philosophy and theology.
“But during postgraduate studies he contracted tuberculosis and was sent home.
“When I came back in June 1956 I had some time at home, seeing the folks, and then came out here [to Australia] in November 1956.
“The idea was I was going to Nigeria to do missionary work. But they decided Nigeria wasn’t a great place for a man who had a breakdown with TB, so that’s how I arrived in Australia,” he said.
“My mother prayed that I wouldn’t be sent to Australia, but you take a vow of obedience and you go where you’re sent. I said I’d be home in 10 years, but actually I got home in nine.”
Tom taught in St Augustine’s College on Sydney’s Northern Beaches during those nine years.
After St Augustine’s he became a chaplain at Princess Alexandra Hospital in Brisbane.
“It was during that time that I became quite uneasy about my situation [as a priest]. In 1970 I asked for and got a leave of absence for three years.
“At the end of that time I was supposed to report in to my superiors and tell them what I had in mind. I had decided that life inside the priesthood wasn’t for me … and finally the dispensation came through in 1973 and I was free then to do whatever I wanted to do,” he said.
But what do you do as a 43-year-old ex-priest?
“Initially I went into the post office and became a sorter at the Redfern mail exchange and then I became more or less a lackey at the Eastern Suburbs Leagues Club. I took up glasses and went around keeping things tidy.
“I tramped around Sydney looking for a job and ended up asking about the public service. They told me I should look up the Department of Corrective Services, that my qualifications in counselling would come in very handy with the people who were released on parole.
“The Department interviewed me and after a couple of months they called me in and said ‘you’ve got a job’.
“It was a great relief to me because money was so short that I’d walk from Bondi into the city most days because I couldn’t afford the bus fare,” he said.
Tom stayed with the parole division until 1975 and then switched to prisoner education.
“I saw that some prisoners were coming out after years in jail and still didn’t know how to read or write, which was a great disadvantage to them. Being in education myself previously I got in touch with the Commissioner of Corrective Services and we had a discussion.
“Together with a couple of others we set up programmes in prison so that prisoners were able to read and write when they got out,” he said.
Tom later worked on the Serious Offenders Review Board, during which time he crossed paths with all the life sentence prisoners in the sate. “I met them twice a year, the high profile prisoners, the ones who had already served 20 or 30 years in the prison system,” he said.
A more important crossing of paths came many years earlier. “I met Trish, the woman of my life in 1974. She’s a Tasmanian, but not a Tasmanian Devil,” laughs Tom. “We were married in 1976 and I was 47 years of age when I became a dad.” Tom and Trish’s children, Robert and John, are now aged 32 and 31.
For most Irish people in Australia Tom is best known as one of the main driving forces behind the erection of the Great Famine Memorial at Hyde Park Barracks in Sydney.
“Mary Robinson was out here in 1995 and she made an appeal that the Irish people of Sydney should do something significant to commemorate the Great Irish Famine,” he said.
Tom, Mayoman Martin Coleman and many others got to work.
“We had a meeting of all the county associations and decided to build this memorial. It was four hard years of fundraising and it was a lot of work with dinners, dances and raffles.
“On the day it opened in 1999 there were around 4,000 people there. St Mary’s Cathedral was packed to the door and there were just about as many people again at Hyde Park Barracks, waiting for the official opening.
“It was an ecumenical service. We had representation there from the Presbyterian Church and the Church of England, which was only right. A lot of the orphans had been Presbyterian and other religions,” he said.
“It’s ironic that all these girls who had to leave Ireland because their parents were dead, and probably died of starvation, are memorialised on a monument built over the very kitchen that fed them 150 years ago.
“That was all by chance. It was divine inspiration in a way. It was a marvellous thing to discover.”
Tom is modest about his many accomplishments.
“The fact that I was able to influence the lives of prisoners in some ways, that’s an achievement. I’m very grateful to the Department of Corrective Services, they were very kind to me. I think I did make a good contribution there.
“The monument has been my baby since I retired 15 years ago and I’m still at it today, and that’s an achievement. Maybe someone will come along and take over the reins, because I’m in my 80th year now, so I won’t be able to keep doing it forever.”


