Remembering Vince Colbert

Family and friends gathered at St Mary’s Catholic Church, Birchip, on June 1 to celebrate and remember the life of Vincent “Vince” Bernard Colbert.

Vincent’s nearly 90 years of life were marked by service to family, community, sport and local history. A devoted husband to Pat and father of six children, he was known for his loyalty, humility, generosity, problem-solving ability and extraordinary determination. In his lifetime, he worked as a livestock carrier, mechanic, machinery specialist and farmer’s friend. Within the community, he supported the football, racing, hospital, fire brigade, tribunal, church and community organisations.

A eulogy was delivered by son, Leon Colbert:

There is no eulogy long enough nor words powerful enough to truly do justice to the life of Vince Colbert. He was one of those rare people who left an indelible mark on everyone who met. A man of incredible strength, intelligence, kindness, humility and quite brilliance.

So please forgive me as I attempt the impossible. 

Firstly, I would like to give a huge thank you to my sister Anne who assisted in bringing together many of these memories, and to all siblings for their amazing support they gave to both mum and dad, especially through recent times. Thank you also to dad's sister Dot who has joined us today.

Dad was born 14th July 1936 and was the youngest of the eight children.

His early years played out on the farm at Watchem and were best described as a wee bit tough. You see he lived in an age where the local school down at Massey was around 10km away and the only way to get to and from that school was horse and buggy or bike.

I gained a much deeper appreciation for dads’ upbringing when recently my daughter Claudia and i visited and dad took us on a tour of his old town, his old school, and his old farm. As we drove those old roads, he shared stories of what life was really like back in the day. Stories that made Claudia and I look at each other in complete awe. The living conditions back in those days were hard…. really hard, but his generation and especially dad were built from something different.

 Whilst travelling those 10km to school with his siblings, dad told us stories of buggy wheels falling off mid journey and him and his siblings being catapulted into the frozen water filled table drains beside the road, in near zero temperature, and often in the rain. As a contrast the summer trips would regularly break the 40-degree mark. And just when you thought it couldn’t get much tougher, they would then have to sit in a single classroom without any type of air conditioning and listen to the one and only teacher who taught grade 1 to grade 6 all together, at once, in that one classroom, in 40-degree heat. Dad even mentioned how sometimes he would have to ride a bike to school and that too amazed us as we would look down on the dirt roads we were travelling on that were literally covered in rocks. They were certainly built tough in that era.

 In fact, so treacherous were the roads back then that in the wet winter months dad would take the old Fordson tractor and head cross country through the paddocks just to get to footy training. And so, dad was growing up….fast. At around the tender age of 12 he became designated driver for his uncle’s Leo and Jack Colbert as they would regularly require much needed refreshments until a late hour at the Watchem hotel. Imagine a 12-year-old stretching up to see out over the steering wheel of a big old Buick and in a strange coincidence he ended up doing the same thing for many of his own children. What made dad special though was that underneath that exterior toughness was a man with an incredibly giving heart.

 Eventually in 1951 dad moved on to St Pats school in Ballarat, where he excelled both physically and academically. His brothers Brian, Johnny and Patrick went to St Pats also.

St Pats boasted a number of particularly good sportsman and numerous Aussie rules players from that school went on to play in the big time for the AFL. Dad was good enough to be picked for the school side and played many games in the back line. He played alongside players who would go on to play for St Kilda, an Essendon captain and even a Brownlow medallist, so he was in good company.

 One particular conversation I had with an old boy from St Pats enlightened me to the fact that he was also a great gymnast. I didn’t even know he did gymnastics??

A great friend of dads, who has also become a great friend of mine over the years, Michael Connellon, told me of times where dad was in the gym at St Pats and when he would “do his thing” on the parallel bars that invariably people would stop what they were doing and a crowd would form to be in awe of dad’s prowess.

 In addition to all these attributes it was in the water where dad truly rose to the top.

The Ballarat “head of the lake” is a rowing event that has taken place for over 100 years and is a highly sort after prize between the Ballarat schools. The competition was always fierce for the coveted head of the lake trophy and dad was chosen as “the stroke” position in the 1954 race. From what i know “the stroke” is the guy that pretty much sets the pace and tempo for the whole race. So, it's 1954, dad’s last year of school and the big race is on. After almost 2kms of intense competition there was barely a cigarette paper between St Pats and Ballarat College… but in an upset Ballarat College took the win in the final stroke.

 Here’s where things take a very “Vince Colbert” 90-degree turn. You see, St Pats hadn’t won the race in almost 20 years. They’d come 3rd in 1953 and now 2nd in 1954 but dad had unfortunately run out of time as it was his final matriculation year at school… but, not our dad, he had unfinished business, didn’t he?

 So, in what can only be considered as one of the greatest gifts of team loyalty I have ever heard of, our dad returned to St Pats the following year and completed an entire extra year of schooling just so he could stay with that team for the 1955 race… I have never, and don’t think I will ever, hear of such an act… such was the makeup of our dad Vince Colbert. I mean who does that??

 That was our dad. Loyal, fiercely determined and selfless. When he committed to something whether it was a team, a job, his family or his friends, he gave everything he had.

 Oh, and the answer is yes, in an outcome worthy of a Hollywood movie, St Pats after nearly 2 decades without a win, won the head of the lake in that year 1955 with my dad as “the stroke”. Such was the occasion st pats would only win once in the following 35 years. Along with a number of family members, I was fortunate enough to attend the St Pats rowing club 50-year reunion in 2015 and it was so great to see him with his teammates again. Those guys were treated like royalty amongst the current St Pats cohort, and rightly so.

 Dad eventually left school and went out into the big wide world to make a living. He took off up to the fruit picking areas of northern Victoria with a mate of his and it was here that he realised that staying “on top” of the water was a better option than being “in” the water. You see his mate bet him he couldn’t swim across the Murray River… wrong move. So, swim he did. Across he went, but then he had to get back. This is where he found out that his abilities and his expectations were two different things. His near drowning episode that day probably exemplifies his dogged determination that was fast becoming part of his DNA.

 Dad eventually moved back to the local area, and this is when he met our mum, Pat the love of his life. He married his one true love and the two of them set about creating something special together. A life filled with hard work, commitment, laughter, community and above all else, love for one another. Further along the way, in between her telephonist duties and dads' livestock duties, they would eventually have 6 absolutely wonderful, amazing children, but I digress.

 So back in Birchip dad decided to have a crack at running a livestock cartage business. Mum became an integral part of the business taking calls, arranging dads' itinerary, etc. I have no idea how they managed to do all that and have 6 kids.

 He originally started with one flatbed truck to which he added a triple deck stock crate on top. He then used that triple decker stock crate as a work platform to build his own shed, and I think anyone who had visited 32 Watson St can testify to what an amazing piece of engineering that shed is. Particularly when he pretty much erected it himself.

Dads' business took off and eventually he was running three trucks carting sheep, pigs cattle and whatever else needed moving around Victoria and beyond. As kids we would love being in the truck with dad... they were definitely great times.

 He was well known throughout the industry and was a self-taught mechanic, an incredible problem solver, and a man who was trusted throughout. There wasn’t much dad couldn’t fix. I recall the occasional time where something wouldn’t be working as it should on the truck and so he would drop off a load of sheep at Flemington then pull into Ted’s diesel mechanics. The owner would allow dad to pull in at closing time after he had been driving all day. He would say “see you if you’re still here in the morning Vince”. Dad would then go to work on the truck until into the wee morning hours and once fixed, he would back the truck out, lock the place up and be on his way home. It didn’t mean much to me at the time but to allow someone into your workshop and let him use your tools and use your parts etc and then say “lock up as you leave”… such was the respect my dad had earned through years of honesty, reliability, incredible skill and a work ethic very few could lay claim to.

 His ability to work on limited sleep was exceptional. Many a time he would pull in home at a late hour, fuel up the truck, have some tucker and hit the sack... quite often around midnight. It was then common to hear the truck start at 5 or 6am and off he would go before we were even out of bed. It was a true testament to him that he managed to drive all those days, all those years and not come undone. 

 Eventually the trucks gave way to a new outlook in life - Dad started work at Smales farm equipment. A few years later he eventually purchased a part in the business. He had become a very important part of the town's fabric with his transport business, and now those same locals and farmers (a number who are here with us today) could rely on him to help out with their farming equipment. He was a tireless worker, and I lay witness to many a 7,8,9 o’clock, or later, nights spent fixing someone’s broken equipment so they could have it back on their farm early the following morning.

 One such time was when one of the local farmers out on the Wyche road had a major breakdown with his header in the middle of harvest, in the middle of a paddock, in the middle of a heatwave, and it was 2 days before Christmas. Dad and I went out to that farm and worked that day until late….very late into the night. We had to pull the guts out of the header to get to the broken parts. We backed up again the next day, and Xmas day as well as the Boxing Day. That was just the way my dad operated. He didn’t expect anything from anyone that he wasn’t prepared to do himself.

 Eventually dad retired from Smales and worked out at Eddie Lee’s for a couple of years and then later on for numerous years at Jeff Rickard’s. Dad formed a close bond with Jeff and the Rickard family, and they continued to look out for both my parents well after he had retired from their farm. This is something our family is extremely grateful for. I can just imagine Jeff up there giving dad a big smile and hug and saying, “what took you so bloody long Vince”?

 There are many great childhood memories where dad would take all of us to Lake Boga for holidays. Then, one time we travelled 3000kms across to Perth, and then another 1200ks up to Mt Newman to visit Mr and Mrs Page. All 8 of us in that Toyota hi-ace van… ahh, those were the days. And so, what else did Vince Colbert achieve through his amazing time here. Well, when you look back and take stock of everything dad gave to this community it is honestly astonishing.

 He was a goal umpire for Birchip and the North Central League for years, standing in the rain and cold, but never complaining. He was on the Birchip hospital committee for years. He spent countless hours, days, weeks, months and years handwriting our family tree and has accumulated many historical photos and facts along the way. He served on the North Central tribunal for many years. Was a steward at the Watchem racing club. Played football for Watchem for many years and then went on to write a book called “the combine continues”. A 100-year history of the club from its inception in 1893 to 1993 covering football and netball. He was a member of the Birchip-Watchem Football club and even hand-built purpose made roof racks for the Toyota hi-ace so Birchip could get the big banners to grand finals.

 Dad was a member of the Watchem Fire Brigade for many years, and although never a member of the Birchip Brigade he would quite often be seen running over from work to the fire station as soon as the siren went and warm up the truck and start preparations for whatever was required. He was also a member of the Knights of the Southern Cross and even organised the one and only Birchip triathlon. This event was attended by many people (some even travelled up from Melbourne) and to this day I think was one of a select few, if any, triathlons that had carpet laid down over the railway crossing so the bikes would be protected.

 He was never one to seek recognition or praise, he just saw things that needed to be done, and he did them. And if all that wasn’t enough, I have only just found out recently that this tough as nails, hard as rock superman figure also had a gentle, kindhearted side to him. You see as well as his own business, six kids, and everything else mentioned above it turns out mum and dad also took in orphans. His, and my mums soft caring nature allowed many underprivileged kids find their start in life as was evident when I was recently shown a “thank you” letter written by one of the beneficiaries of their kindness. When I read that letter of thanks, I was bursting with pride of who my parents are and their achievements.

 I think I have stood up here in front of you for long enough, but please allow me to leave you with this story of our dad.

 You see many people are remembered for the work they did while they were in view and could be seen…their public identity. However, for me it will be the things my dad did when no one was around that will allow him to live on.

 I was with him once in the truck on one of his many trips to Melbourne. I was probably around 8 or 9 at the time. It had been pouring rain… for days. Many roads were flooded and even our trip South was in doubt. We left home well after dark and headed over to Wycheproof and turned right heading for Charlton. The roads were not good, and water was crossing in many areas. The floodways were covered and the water was flowing but the roads still had not been blocked off. As we approached one of the floodways I looked and saw water across the road for seemingly the next kilometre. We could see headlights from cars that were stopped up ahead facing our way around a km away as they were not prepared to make the crossing... a good move on their behalf.

 I asked dad what he was doing as he slowed to a stop and opened his door. “Stay here, I’m going to give them a hand.” With that he pointed into the abyss, and I could just make out the rear windscreen of a car a few hundred meters away in the dark that had become stuck in floodwaters that was up to their windows. I could just make out 4 or 5 heads in the car bobbing around looking for a miracle. After a few minutes of wading through the water (and yes, it was flowing water) he made it to the stricken vehicle… their miracle had arrived. What happened next will go down as one of the greatest feats of strength I have ever witnessed. You see the occupants of that car were too scared to get out into the flooded waterway so my dad single handedly pushed that car all the way to the other end of the floodway… by himself. Yes, he did it on his own, with them inside. 

 Then, he returned back through those same flowing floodwaters in the dark to the truck. He jumped in, started the truck and looked across at me and like something out of a Clint Eastwood movie and said “bloody uni students”.

 We drove through the waters and I was amazed how fast it was flowing. As we got to the other end he drove through all the cars that were stopped there and all I could hear was applause. Dad just lifted a finger off the steering wheel in response and continued on his way to Melbourne.

 And that, my family and friends, is the Vince Colbert I will always remember.

 A man of incredible strength, incredible humility, and incredible kindness.

 A man who never asked for attention but deserved every accolade, and more.

 A true gentleman and a true family man.

 Ladies and gentlemen Vince Colbert was a true bloody legend.

 Rest in peace dad, I love you xxx

‘Vince Will Know’

The following poem was written by Barb Kelly, Vince’s cousin and an author based in Mildura. Barb shared Vince’s passion for family history and admired his lifelong dedication to documenting the Irish diaspora.

 Do you wonder about the ones from before,

Irish, Catholic, did they break the law,

From County Clare to Watchem, where did they go,

Get on the phone, call in, Vince will know.

Across the graveyards, amongst the gilded gold, 

Vince has found them all, the young and the old

Babies, weddings, priests, friend or foe

Inside the Birchip house Vince will know.

He loved them all and knew their pain,

The mice, the rabbits —it didn’t rain

So proud of Suse and all her crew

If you needed more, Vince always knew.

Eureka was a sad wild day for the sons of Clare,

Thaddeus and Patrick bravely stood there,

Massacred by a strong and cruel foe

Be proud if your related, Vince will know.

Before computers, DNA, internet and Ancestry.

Vince was searching, writing, building the tree.

Not sure of someone, Darcy, Connellan was it Jim or Joe,

Where did they die, who was the priest, Vince will know.

Amongst the tall grass, and granite plinths they lurk

Families called Glowery, Danaher and Bourke.

There’s McMahon, Colbert, Moore, what’s the truth

Just ask Vince he’s been the sleuth. 

If you want to laugh, have some fun, 

Stories of the deeds once done.

Late drives from the pub were risky,

Just a kid with uncles and their whiskey

Sit at the table, pull up a chair 

Vince always has some memories to share.

Cemeteries will never be the same

Without you to find a name.

Thank you Vince for all you shared

We know how much you cared.

For all of us, your family and more,

The love of history was at your core.

You revealed it all through the research

Farms, families and the Catholic Church

We’ll miss those times sitting there

Vanilla slice and tea to share.

You were the bridge, the vital link

You loved to share and make us think.

When we stop and wonder about long ago.

Sadly, we’ll remember you, as only Vince would know.