A PROUD row of children stood at the front of Bill Bergin’s Year One classroom at St Ambrose primary school, Kelvin Grove.
“I said to the pupil next to me, ‘What are those children doing out the front?’ And they said, ‘They’re making their First Holy Communion’.”
Bill, six years old, looked on in disbelief because he knew one of the students, Rita Dunning, was a month younger than he was.
“So I got up and I walked down to the front, I said, ‘Sister, would I be able to make my First Holy Communion?’
“Oh, she says, ‘No, Billy,’ she said, ‘you’re too young’.
“‘But Rita Dunning,’ I said, ‘is younger than me – much younger than me’.”
The sister teaching the class told him that Rita had a special reason and to be doubly sure, she started to ask him questions about his faith, from the catechism and Scripture.
“She was so impressed with my responses, she put her arm around me and she said, ‘Yes, you can (make First Holy Communion)’,” he said.
Bill became a favourite pupil of the sisters and shortly after he made his sacraments, Bill became an altar boy.
He served up until about 12 months ago at the age of 91 – though he said he would still be doing it if he could.
Bill’s later school years coincided with the Second World War.
He remembered pasting all the windows black and studying under a single light, which was all that was allowed in wartime.
He finished his education at Marist College, Ashgrove.
One of the Marist brothers from the vocations office had come around in his final year and Bill thought about his own vocation.
He spoke to Brother Andrew, the recruiting brother, who told him, “Bill … I think you’d make a good brother.”
Bill thought so too.
So he went home and mentioned his plans to his father, William Leo Bergin, who was a police officer like his father before him.
Bill’s father said, “Oh yes, interesting,” and his mother, Honora Agnes, was “non-committal”.
Just a couple days later, Bill’s father came home with an application for him to join the police force.
He joked that he had found and lost his vocation to religious life in a matter of days.
In January 1948, Bill went for an interview with the police at Petrie Terrace at just 15 years of age.
The officers took a look at him.
“He’s very small,” one of them said.
They debated back and forth, but at last, they agreed he did have “good eyesight” and took him on.
Bill has seen grace move at remarkable moments.
In about 1960, Bill was working in the office of the criminal investigations branch in Herschel Street, Brisbane, when a young constable named Kevin came to the door of his office.
“Bill, you’re pretty religious,” Kevin said.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Bill said.
Kevin explained that he and his girlfriend were going away for Easter and he would like to get to confession before he went.
Bill told him if he went to St Stephen’s Cathedral about midday, he might have the possibility of seeing a priest for confession.
“He left the office and about an hour later he came back at the door and he waved to me, he said, ‘I took your advice’,” he said.
“So he and his girlfriend set off in their car,” Bill said with sadness.
“It was about an hour later I got advice to say that he and his girlfriend were killed.
“So that was… very touching really.”
Bill went to Kevin’s funeral and had hoped to talk to his family about what had happened, but there were so many people there that he could not get close to them.
He said it was incidents like those that “made me realise how important it was to lead a good life because you never know the day, you never know the hour”.
Bill went on to have a long and successful career in law enforcement that spanned decades.
He retired a superintendent in 1987.
He also had success in his vocation to marriage and family life after he met his wife, Patricia, at a police dance in Bardon on January 6, 1956.
Bill came in late to the dance and he immediately saw this girl, who “looked at me as I walked in”.
“So I thought I must give that girl a dance,” he said.
He asked her for the next dance, Patricia agreed, before she turned to her friends to ask if they knew who he was, and they said, incorrectly, that he was Bob Bergin.
Bill’s uncle Robert (“Bob”) Bergin started the Voice of Fatima publication under permission of the Archbishop of Brisbane to run alongside The Catholic Leader.
The next dance happened to be a progressive barn dance, so Patricia and Bill’s conversation came only in snippets before they had to change partners.
She asked him, “Are you Bob Bergin?”
“No… I’m Bill Bergin,” and explained, “That’s my uncle… I’m a policeman.”
Patricia was pleased with his answer and within a week, they were courting.
“I was always looking out for a good Catholic girl to marry because it makes it so much easier,” Bill said.
The two got to daily Mass together and prayer, especially the rosary, became the foundation of their relationship.
Within six months, they were engaged and they wed at St Mary Magdalene’s Church, Bardon, on May 25, 1957.
The couple welcomed their first child, a son named Tony, on the Feast of the Assumption on August 15, 1958.
Bill said when he learned he had a son – when he had started a family – he felt like it was the fulfilment of his whole life.
The couple went on to have six children – Tony, Clare, Madonna, Paul, Justin and Barbara.
Those children gave Bill and Patricia 38 grandchildren.
The 38 grandchildren have brought forth 62 great grandchildren – and counting.
Bill said he felt a great satisfaction to have such a large family and one that has remained so grounded in their Catholic faith.
As far as he knew, all 106 of his direct descendants were practicing their Catholic faith in families that all held the rosary in high esteem.
Bill said it had been 11 years since his wife Patricia died, passing on June 2, 2014, after 57 years of marriage.
After she died, Bill tried to get to Mass as often as he could, becoming more involved in the parish and returning to a daily rhythm as he had done with her when they were first courting.
Bill celebrated his 93rd birthday in November and still gets to Carina parish as often as he can to give thanks to God for a good life.
