Welcome to this site, dedicated to a man and his family. A man whose influence lives on in the lives and memories of many of 'his boys'.
George Aubrey Jessup
16/09/1896 - 16/01/1972
The author of this website is Ron Wormwell.
Special thanks go to George's great granddaughter, Lisa, and his granddaughter, Christine, for their contributions since Ron's passing.
(Emails sent via the contact page now go to Ron's family.)
Above was the location of the church hall in Hughes Street, Unley, where The North Unley Boys' Club met.
When I was six,
around 1940, a questionnaire was found in our letterbox asking if any
boys in the area would like to join a boy's club to be called The North
Unley Boy's Club. The questionnaire asked our interests and I know that,
among other things, I ticked archery, but it was going to be another 20
years before I picked it up and pulled a bow. Anyone who returned the form to the
address provided received a visit from a gentleman in his mid-40s who
introduced himself as a Mr Jessup. Mr Jessup (Pop, as he became known to
us) explained to my mother what he was hoping to do in this club. The
club was to meet on a Wednesday evening in a Presbyterian church hall in
the next street and he hoped that there would be no objection to the
evening ending with a short prayer and hymn. We were later to discover
this gentleman, George Aubrey Jessup, was the Registrar General of the
Adelaide Lands, Deeds and Titles office.
The evening
primarily consisted of pretty basic gymnastics using springboard, horse,
horizontal and parallel bars and tumbling mats. It wasn't long before
the place became known to us as Pop Jessup's gym because that's
how we came to think of this kindly, considerate, always proper,
gentleman. This man cared about us boys during the worst of the war
years and invited us into his life, into his home, and to meet his
family.
Left to right: Allan, Lilian (with Ruth on her lap), Pop Jessup (with Audrey in front of him) and Len.
The only physical memento remaining of The North Unley Boy’s Club, The Efficiency Shield.
It was not uncommon for his two sons, Alan and Len, to help out and make sure none of us did too much damage to ourselves. Alan was studying to be a doctor, Len a lawyer, but they still made time for us boys. His two beautiful daughters, Audrey and Ruth, would occasionally arrive to make our nightly cup of cocoa, for which we contributed the princely sum of one penny. I occasionally make myself a cup of cocoa with hot water to remind me of those times. Loved it then, not so much now.
Some evenings we would go on a moonlight hike which usually consisted of an easy trek up a foothill of the Mount Lofty Ranges, to arrive at a church hall at the top of the hill and a supper of hot pies and pasties.
Occasionally Pop would arrange a weekend hike (either two or three days) through the hills, staying overnight at youth hostels where meals were prepared for us by Alan, Len, or a chap I remember was named Ken Farmer, the people who helped Pop at the gym. And Pop would follow behind in his Wolseley to pick up stragglers.
Come Christmas time, the boys would put on a display of gymnastics, plays and skits to amuse parents. I still remember, over 60 years later, playing the ghost of Marley in the Christmas Carol. "I am the ghost of Marley, your old friend, dead these many years, come, come and look ...". These plays were rehearsed in his beautiful, gracious old home in Palmerston Road, off Young Street where I lived.
A lad joined the club who had lost a leg to cancer (we later, sadly, lost the rest of him) so, to give him some involvement, we started a little lending library of donated books.
After we left the club, for differing personal reasons, the group of lads around my age who had become friends,
continued to congregate together at one home or another. Or at a milk
bar on Unley Road. Being owned at one time by an English couple, it naturally became known as 'The Pom Shop' (even when it was owned by a
young Greek couple who later became members of our group). We were joined
by other local lads, and occasionally by others from various parts of
the metropolitan area, until there would sometimes be as many as 15 or more of us. On the rare occasion we all had girlfriends, that
made quite a crowd.
At time, during
the early days of rock and roll, there were concerns for the morality of
the youth being influenced by this terrible, so-called music, and the
police began watching for gangs of youths hanging around on the streets.
As many of us lived in and around Young Street, we became known as
that 'Young Street Mob'.
The Young Street Mob. Perhaps not how Pop envisaged his boys to look or act 10 years on, but we were all still mates. And still practicing gymnasts.
These were the party times: young, single and irresponsible. Parties and bush bashing trips. Mates, being together was the important thing. They lasted for over 10 years. It really was a blast.
But the world moved on. The armageddon that rock and roll was going to initiate soon fizzled out, and boys became men. To my knowledge, not one lad who grew up under Pop Jessup's influence, certainly none of my mates from the Young Street Mob, ever came under serious police scrutiny. No matter what I did, I always knew that I would never want Pop to become aware of me doing anything that would cause me to be ashamed of myself.
But it's only as we reached maturity that we realised what an influence Pop had on our lives. He opened our eyes to alternatives and, by example, pointed the direction to what may be called, in old fashioned terms, a more decent way.
Time passes and the church hall no longer exists: in its place are car garages. The Presbyterian church is someone's home surrounded by a high fence. The tree outside the church where Brian and I perched, reading comics purchased from the corner shop ... gone.
The old North Unley Boy's Club church hall, now replaced by the cream car garages at the rear of the converted 1913 church/home.
The site of Pop Jessup's beloved Park Street Church of Christ. Now the Hyde Park Christadelphian Ecclesia.
Below: George and Lillian.
Below: George (Pop) receiving his Law Degree
(with Allan, Len and Lillian).
Sadly, I can barely remember Pop Jessup. I can't remember a word he said. I can't remember what he looked like. But I, and many others, are better people for knowing this gentle man.
But perhaps this is the measure of the man, not to be remembered for what he was, or what he looked like, but by the quiet, positive example he set. What he did without saying that this is the way to do it. How he treated us without insisting that we do likewise. How he spoke without saying 'do as I do'. To be a Christian in the true meaning of the word, without the religious hypocrisy that could have been pushed into our young minds.
But, still, I wish I could remember what he looked like. I wish I had a photo to include in this page.
I wish I had kept in touch, I deeply regret that I did not. I was 32 when Pop died.
And, searching the internet, this wonderful man seems only to be remembered by the 10 books or articles he wrote on land titles in South Australia, in the memoirs of the ministries of Reverend Harold Norris who remembers Pop as 'the leader of a young men's bible class of mostly university students' at the Park Street Church of Christ (now a church of a different denomination), and in pieces of family tree data on various genealogy pages. Even this page seems to only be accessed, or found, from the search panel at the top of the Internet Explorer program.
The information from those family tree pages indicated that, of Pop's children, Len married and had two daughters, Alan and his wife had a son, and Audrey and her husband had two sons and a daughter. Those children would have grown up and probably had children of their own. It would be so sad if they all grew up not knowing how much respect and affection a group of lads from very ordinary backgrounds had for their father, grandfather and, perhaps, great grandfather, what he did for them at The North Unley Boy's Club, and how knowing George Aubrey Jessup and his family may have influenced their lives.
1996. All but one are Pop's boys, and many are still kicking on in 2010.
But he is still remembered by this group of aged men - the original members of The North Unley Boy's club, who later became The Young Street Mob, then men successful in their chosen careers who although now scattered all over Australia, have kept in touch and still remained mates for nearly 70 years.
Because they met at the North Unley Boy's Club and grew up having known Pop Jessup, and the Jessup family.
And amongst the pearls of wisdom received via email, it's perhaps appropriate that today, as I write this, I received the words below:
It's not what you gather, but what you scatter that tells what kind of life you have lived.
In the large order of things, George Aubrey Jessup's forming a boy's club in the '40s is perhaps (perhaps?) not worthy of note. But, to a group of lads, many from broken homes, some with fathers in the armed services, Wednesday evening at Pop Jessup's Gym was something to which we looked forward. Its influence is still felt today. In that club, on those hikes, rehearsing those plays, supporting each other in that gymnasium, we got to know each other as only children know each other. We learned how to become friends and we learned how to stay friends. We grew up never feeling alone, knowing that at any time,whatever problems we may face, we could call on mates for support. Mates from the North Unley Boys Club.
And we had some times.
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Emailed responses to this site.
Thanks for preserving his memory and our feelings in this way.
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I can't say I can really remember reading the comics in the tree, however, the attached photo would be a very appropriate inclusion as it
is possibly the only extant physical piece of the North Unley Boys' Club
history. I still have the shield hanging in my "den" as a treasured memory of
all that the club meant to us.
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Brian sent me the link to your site on the great
man. Yes, he holds a special place in my heart too.
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I was extremely saddened to learn today (21 August 2010) of the death of Doctor Allan Aubrey Jessup who passed away on August 17, aged 87. And as I was to also hear, during a recent phone conversation with him, of the prior passing of Len and Ruth. My deepest sympathy to his wife and family and to Audrey who lost a little sister and big brother in the same year. Audrey is the last of her generation, and the last of the Jessup family that I knew.
As I was talking to Alan I was made aware of how bright and intelligent he was, how strong and firm his voice, how clear his memory, and I'm reminded of the tragedy of time when society, his friends and his loved ones are robbed, by the ravages of aging, of a mind and personality still capable of enriching their lives. And even after sixty years Alan and I were able to speak, not as strangers, but easily and comfortably about his family and his memories of the North Unley Boys' Club. I guess, in a way, we were Alan and Len's boys as well.
As each person whose life has touched, mine slips away. I feel as if my life too is being diminished, and I'm reminded of John Donne's 'For Whom The Bell Tolls'. Yes, it tolls for me.
Doctor Allan Aubrey Jessup has been, and always will be, remembered most fondly and with deepest respect by the boys of the North Unley Boys club, who knew him simply as Allan. RIP.
Ron Wormwell
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Before Allan died, he commissioned a memorial plaque for George by the side of the trail that George walked to work daily. It resides on a bench under a gum tree on the corner of Pulteney Street and Morphett Streets. It is a very special place for the family.
