13/03/1936 to 17/06/2024
By one of his daughters, Leanne Stewart
On the 13th March, 1936, (which happened to be a black Friday, as Dad would always remind us) a big baby boy was born to Norm and Lillian Fenton.
Some people have been puzzled about his name. In fact, all his life people have asked what does Esven stand for, what is the reason for his name. Having had Swedish background, Norm and Lillian liked the name Sven (Swedish for John) but Lillian changed it to Esven as it was easier to say. She imagined that Sven would be a mouthful to shout out when calling him in.
Norm hated it and proceeded to call him George for the rest of his life.
At the time he was born, there was no electricity, no TVs, no telephones, washing machines, freezers, etc. It boggled me as a child, and even more so his grandchildren.
Transport was an old horse “Dolly” and a sleigh dragged behind called the “The Shan.” We have all loved the stories dad told us of his childhood years. He got up to a lot of mischief. He would laugh as he would tell the story of pulling apart his father’s box brownie camera, along with his cousin Rosie (Sinclair). They were looking for the little birdie inside, the camera was destroyed, and Norm was not impressed. Perhaps this was the beginning of his electronics career.
Like all kids growing up on the Island, he loved his fishing, hiking mountains and chasing pigs and goats to shoot down. He was a good shot back in the day; after all, he was given his first rifle at the age of 8!
There were tales of catching rats and receiving 6 pence for each tail. So many stories that most parents today would be horrified to hear.
His chores were to chop firewood, and milk their cow before and after school everyday and weekends.
When his father left for war in 1941, Ezz left the Island with his mum to be near Norm as he trained in the military – as well as visiting family in Nimmitabel (Southeast of Cooma). In total he attended 12 mainland schools, before returning to the Island after the war in 1945.
When Dad reached high school age, his parents sent him off to Hurstville Agricultural Boarding School. He was only there for a year because he hated it. He returned to finish high school on the Island. The Island map model in the school playground was originally made by Dad and Donald Payten. They made it out of plasticine and later it was converted to a cement model, and it is still there today. [Editor’s note: There is a great photo of the school relief map on Page 12 of this month’s Signal in the newsletter from the Lord Howe Island Central School.]
Upon finishing school, Dad left the Island to start working for the PMG as a telegram boy, riding on his pushbike from suburb to suburb delivering messages.
At the age of 16, in 1953, Dad signed up along with 150 other young men, to join the Royal Australian Air Force in Wagga Wagga.
That intake was called the “Daffodils,” named by the previous intake called the “Pansies.”
Michelle and I were so glad Dad didn’t end up a Pansy.
He started as an apprentice aircraft electrical fitter. He was posted to Eleven Squadron on Neptunes at Richmond Base. This turned out to be a very lucky posting, taking them on many trips around the world. With a crew of 13 in the Neptune, they could be deployed, at anytime, anywhere in the world. Their task was to Shepherd and Destroy, to protect ships and locate and destroy submarines in times of war. Dad loved flying and told us many stories, hilarious, exciting, risky, outright dangerous and frightening.
He never, ever ran out of stories. It was such exciting times for him and the boys. He flew to the USA. Hawaii, Malaysia, Philippines, Coco Islands, Dutch New Guinea and more. He also flew Operation West, around the world in a westerly direction. He was most impressed when he flew in the gunner’s seat as they flew the entire coastline of Australia.
During his Air Force years, he met Janice, married and had his first child Leanne in 1960. Soon after that he was posted back to Wagga Wagga in a teaching capacity. There were many years of study and exercising his parade ground voice. At his 15-year engagement, he was posted back to Richmond to work in their new Precision Measuring Equipment Laboratories, as well as continuing to be an instructor on a new course. That put him in the position of teaching commissioned officers who far outranked him, including his own boss. He took great delight!
Dad left the Air Force after 20 years of service at a rank of Flight Seargent.
In civilian life he first worked for Hawker Sidley Electronics at Brookvale. During that time, his second daughter, Michelle, was born in 1971.
When the company closed, Dad along with an Air Force mate, started up their own business called “InControl.” So appropriate, as Dad always had to be In Control!!!
Together they imported electronic measuring equipment from Canada and modified it for Australian Industry. It was employed in mines, factories, like Arnott’s, McCain’s and even sewerage treatment plants (or as Dad would say, Shit Farms).
In 1990 mum and Dad retired and settled back on the Island in his father’s home. He soon took an interest in the Island affairs and was elected board member for three terms, 9 years in total. He made great strides for the island in that time, including having the island debt cleared, and upgrade of Windy point road (which was regularly washed out prior to this).
In that time, he became grandfather to Pete, Bec and the twins, Mikaela and Larissa.
The grandkids brought Mum and Dad a lot of joy (and empty pockets).
To Dad’s great delight, he became a great grandfather to Jasper 6 years ago.
In the 18 years since Mum has been gone, he did get lonely. So, he enjoyed all the family visits to the island or heading to the mainland to see them.
Many of you islanders played a huge part in making him feel valued and respected. He also enjoyed hosting friends to his home and being a tour guide for them. He was a proud grazier of an average of 22 Angus Beef cattle. With the help of many islanders Dad enjoyed his hobby and business of running the herd. A big thank you to you all.
Dad survived Melanoma in the early 80’s, prostate cancer in the 90’s, respiratory arrest, heart attack and diabetes to live to the ripe age of 88.
His final battle was against Cholangiocarcinoma, a cancer of the bile duct throughout the pancreas, liver and gall bladder – the same cancer mum battled of which there is no successful treatment and lost her life too.
He bravely fought this formidable cancer for the last nine months, suffering jaundice, blockages, liver and pancreatic failure. He endured a number of operations followed by chemotherapy. During this time, he lived with us in Sydney for 9 months trying to make the most of life, always telling stories, cracking jokes and reading Banjo Patterson and Henry Lawson. He particularly appreciated the many phone calls from the island with all the gossip. Many thanks to those who made the effort to call him. He also enjoyed calls from his special mates in the air force, remembering the good old days.
My sister and I managed to bring Dad in relatively good health to the Island for four weeks in February this year, but sadly the cancer was progressing, and we returned to Sydney for medical support.
For the longest time I thought my Dad was invincible. He was the first man I ever loved, my mentor, my superhero. He was so brave and strong, but on the 17th of June, in the presence of family, he took his last breath.
Dad, I hope you are pleased with what I have written. I know there was so much more to your life. You haven’t interrupted me, so I guess I did okay. We will all long remember your great adventures and stories and try our best to continue to tell them.
By one of his granddaughters, Bec Stewart, who wrote:
Pa, you taught me how to drive, twice
On the Island when I was 14 and I was terrified,
Then again on the mainland the day I got my licence, and you were terrified.
You taught me how any combustion engine works,
And all the right terminology for your firearms.
All the things a girl needs to know at 16.
You told me stories about your Island buddies.
The adventures you went on with Max, running up the mountains, riffle in hand, all in a world with no electricity.
My favourite stories were about your Air Force apprenticeship,
How you were the only one who could climb the flagpole, and the time you broke into the uniform shop to steel all the socks and ended up in lock up.
When you retired and joined the Island Board you protected the Island businesses in the most Esven way, by not showing up to meetings so they wouldn’t have quorum. Then when you had stepped down you kept giving the board a hard time, not to be difficult (mostly), but because you believed in the Island and its community.
I knew that the day you ran out of things to stomp your feet about would be the day you were done. Well, there’s still one of your foot stomps unresolved, and we’ll all make sure it’s heard.
The Island will never be the same to me now, you were my favourite tour guide, always showing me all the sights no matter how many times I’d seen them before.
No one will tell stories like you did, or read poetry with your laugh, like it was always your first time reading it again.
But what I’ll miss the most is your soft side, it’s not one many people got to see. You would let us sit on your knee, and any time I was sad you would say “I’m sorry sweetie” even though it wasn’t your fault. How you called Nanny snooks, and us girls were strawberry, and always gave the warmest hugs.
Thank you for being the best Pa, one I’ll always miss.
