Tom Maggs

Aurora Journal Summer 2017/2018

by Peter Boyer

Last week I went to the funeral of a man who had died on Christmas Eve from the effects of a stroke. His son-in-law happens to be Australia’s test wicketkeeper, Tim Paine. Millions of cricket watchers would have noticed the Australian team wearing black armbands when they took to the MCG on Boxing Day. It was duly noted in the media, but with virtually no information about the person who inspired it. I’d like to fill a small part of that gap.

It’s ironic that Tom Maggs was remembered at a major international cricket match. Sport had no part in his life, and his mind would wander whenever the topic was raised. Of course that all changed a couple of years ago when a champion cricketer teamed up with his daughter Bonnie and joined his family.

But apart from his short-sightedness Tom might have passed for a sportsman. Much of his life, working and otherwise, involved physical activity, and in his early years in Victoria, in Tasmania or in the great Antarctic wilderness he liked to be outdoors whenever possible.

Tom Maggs served as radio operator and dog handler (he loved all animals) through two Antarctic winters before joining the staff of the Australian Antarctic Division in the late 1970s. He moved from Melbourne to Hobart in 1981, choosing Margate as a place to live.

When I first met him soon after joining AAD staff in 1987 he was preparing for a stint as the station leader for Casey, one of Australia’s Antarctic bases, through the 1988 winter.

That same year Sydney entrepreneur Dick Smith decided to spend some of the fortune he’d made in electronic retailing to show the AAD why it should be flying planes. In November 1988 he and British pilot Giles Kershaw landed on Antarctic ice to complete the first Hobart-Casey flight.

Casey expeditioner Owen Holmwood later recalled how station leader Tom Maggs dealt with this historic occasion:

“Tom was just starting to wax lyrical about the staggering importance of the event, when there darted out from among the assembled multitude two St. Trinians schoolgirls, with blond wigs, fulsome blouses, short blue tunics, frilly knickers and fishnet stockings.

“They skipped straight past the official party, and presented the startled airmen with bunches of plastic flowers and kisses on both cheeks. The two interlopers then dashed back into the crowd to put on warm clothes, before anything that girls don’t have dropped off.

“Tom, ever the pragmatist, realised that he had no chance of restoring that sense of decorum which is so characteristic of [Australian Antarctic] ceremonies, and dispensed with further formalities.”

Two things about Tom come out of this. First, his sense of humour. Some official speakers would be mightily offended at being interrupted by such irreverence, but not Tom. I don’t know what Dick Smith and Giles Kershaw thought, but Tom would have quickly seen the funny side, and I’m sure he led the laughter.

The second thing about him was his eloquence both as speaker and writer. Whether it was sea ice exploding against a ship’s hull, sledge dogs howling at the moon or the first sunrise after a long winter, wondrous Antarctica came to life in his words. I would love to have had his gift.

He loved listening to music, mostly classical. He was an avid reader and a deep thinker, and enjoyed wrestling with complex questions. He was very much at home among the scientists he worked with, and had a rare ability to articulate the complex processes they studied.

Tom Maggs had a long and distinguished career at the AAD. His leadership qualities, writing and analytical skills and love for the natural world landed the former radio operator in a succession of management roles, looking after environmental policy and strategic development.

Underlying his career was a deep humanity, evident in all that was said about him at his crowded funeral in Hobart last week. The memories of his daughters, Bonnie and Georgie, were touching testament to his finest attribute, the unstinting care and love he bestowed on them.

When I left the AAD in difficult circumstances in 2002, Tom was MC in a rousing send-off addressed by several former colleagues. I felt as if I was listening to friendly eulogies at my own funeral. It was a huge fillip and a great start to my new life.

Such compliments are to be taken with a pinch of salt. I think Tom knew his strengths and his weaknesses. If he had been able to hear what friends and family said about him last week, he’d have enjoyed the moment with his characteristic smile and then got on with the rest of his life. I’ll always remember that smile. I am proud to have known him and sad indeed that he is lost to us.

Peter Boyer (as published in the Hobart Mercury).