Eulogy delivered by his son Edward Mahoney at Bill’s Memorial Mass held at Our Lady of Good Counsel Church on Friday, 12 December 2025.
We have been deeply moved by the messages of sympathy and support received since Dad passed away. While the grief has been immense, at his funeral we chose to celebrate his wonderful life and shared some of our fondest memories.
A recurring theme in your messages of sympathy was that Dad was a true gentleman—loyal, kind, patient, and always willing to help, especially if it involved fixing something with a recycled part from his shed. He was a gentle soul who never hid his emotions, happily shedding a tear during a good movie. His tastes were simple: meat and three veg, a perfectly brewed cup of tea, a glass of red or port, vintage cheese, and of course, his beloved Volvo.
Born in Brighton in the post-war years, Dad was the second son of Bernard and Kathleen. He and his twin brother, John William—who sadly died at birth—were named after their twin uncles. He grew up with siblings Jim, Annie and Mary, and his cousin Elizabeth, who was like a sister. The family moved often—11 houses across Melbourne and regional Victoria—which may explain why he stayed in Balwyn for over 52 years. He loved recalling childhood adventures on the family hobby farms in Berwick and Garfield, riding Dotty the horse, driving tractors with their Kelpie Sam, and holidaying in Woollamai where they rolled down the dunes and climbed the Norfolk Island Pines.
Dad attended St Joan of Arc, Kostka Hall, Burke Hall and Xavier College. His Jesuit education instilled in him curiosity, critical thinking, and a commitment to service—values he carried throughout his life and passed on to us. He was immensely proud to send Ed to Xavier and delighted when Claire was married by a Jesuit priest. In his gentle yet persuasive way, he encouraged Cath to marry in the Xavier chapel, knowing it would bring him great joy.
After school, Dad landed his dream job at Channel 7 in sound and vision. He loved the technical challenges and the excitement of live broadcasting. He shared stories of appearing on screen during the late-night news credits on his 21st birthday, broadcasting VFL matches in all weather, and being part of historic events like the 1964 Beatles tour and the 1967 Seekers concert, which sparked his lifelong passion for the band. His favourite memory, though, was meeting “Our Livvy”—Olivia Newton-John—which always brought out a cheeky grin.
Dad later moved into administrative roles, spending 17 years in the Radiology Department at the Royal Melbourne Hospital, where he thrived on problem-solving and innovation. He later worked at the O’Connell Family Centre and TXU, always enjoying the camaraderie of colleagues—especially those who enjoyed a cup of tea.
In his younger years, Dad and his school friend Andrew sailed their catamaran “Grozzle,” skied at Mt Buller, and embarked on adventures like a memorable trip to Central Australia in Dad’s green Land Rover. He was an enthusiastic member of the Our Lady of the Snow ski club, famous for waking people with a fresh cup of tea and cooking crepes for the whole lodge.
Mt Buller was also where he met Mum—Teresa—a young nurse from Queensland who had never seen snow. Despite her accidentally skiing over his brand-new Austrian skis, their romance blossomed. They married in 1972, settled in Balwyn, and welcomed Claire, then Cath and me.
Our childhood was filled with beautiful memories: holidays in Sorrento, Dad’s lamb fritters and Sunday scones, flambéed Christmas puddings, long car trips to visit family, and later, holidays in Mollymook. Dad was a hands-on parent long before it was common—learning to do ponytails, helping with school projects (often over-engineering them), and patiently teaching us anything he loved, usually over several cups of tea.
Saturday nights when Mum worked were special. Dad would buy pizza or make his “special sandwich”—ham, cheese, tomato, sometimes pineapple—cooked in the “special sandwich maker.” Only as adults did we realise it was just a toastie. Dessert was a fruit-mince version with ice cream. After dinner, he would drive to East Melbourne to pick Mum up from the Mercy Hospital. We spent countless nights waiting in the back of the Volvo, never hearing a single complaint from Dad—an example of his unwavering loyalty.
Dad had signature phrases: “Not tonight, Josephine,” “Keep yourself nice, girls,” and the dreaded “I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed.” He gave us freedom to roam—“Be home for lunch and then home for dinner”—while he happily pottered in his shed.
Ah, the shed. Chaotic to anyone else, but Dad knew where everything was. He had tools in both imperial and metric, stacks of “nice bits of timber,” and endless projects. Bunnings was his happy place, and Aldi’s Special Buys were irresistible. He loved repurposing discarded items, often saying, “Leave it with me,” before sketching, prototyping, and perfecting a solution. Not every project was finished—something Mum found frustrating—but each was crafted with care.
His treasures extended under the house and into the attic, where we helped hoist items using an ancient block and tackle secured with sailing knots. He wasn’t a scout, but he embodied “always be prepared.” The back of the Volvo was packed with tools for any contingency, and he gifted us tool sets from Aldi to ensure we were equally equipped. His Swiss Army Knife was practically an extension of him—famously causing a minor security incident at Parliament House when he forgot to remove it before a metal detector.
Dad had a deep sense of community. He contributed his technical skills to OLGC, built sets for our drama group, served as a Eucharistic Minister, and helped establish Neighbourhood Watch in Deepdene. He formed lifelong friendships through school communities, cycling with the Loosies, and walking with the Ramblers. His closest friend, Michael Flynn, shared countless adventures on two wheels.
Family was Dad’s greatest joy. He adored his children and six grandchildren, celebrating every milestone and embracing our partners as his own. He loved a cuppa, a biscuit, a project, and the joyful chaos of family gatherings.
We will never forget the devotion he showed Mum during her illness—living the vow “in sickness and in health” with quiet strength. After her passing, we were grateful for the companionship he found with Anne, whose presence brought him renewed happiness over the past eight years. He cherished his extended family through her.
19 Brenbeal Street, Balwyn VIC 3103
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Mary Conlan says:
What a wonderful Aussie fella. I don’t know him or his family but I loved reading the Eulogy. What a gift to our world was this man!
Your loss would be immense but his reward will be great.
May he rest in peace in the Presence of his Lord and Saviuor.🌸🌸