I met Trevor in, I think, 1962 – he thought a year or two later – but it was certainly at least 60 years ago. At our first meeting, he noticed that I added sugar to my tea, which provoked a series of questions from him: How many spoons per cup? Two. How many cups a day? I made an estimate. He asked, and I answered, the same questions concerning my coffee preferences. ‘Do you realise that you are eating a cup of sugar a day?’ I was so appalled that I there and then went cold turkey, gave up sugar in both tea and coffee, and have never to this day had a grain in either. On the other hand, Trevor continued to sweeten his hot drinks, first with sugar, then with artificial sweeteners when they became available
I recount that story, not as evidence of my unremarkable determination, nor of his taking a different path, but as evidence of one of Trevor’s greatest qualities: he was more concerned for the well-being of others than of his own.
The primacy of this ‘doing unto others’, of placing the other before oneself, is a cornerstone of Christian belief; yet Trevor was an avowed agnostic, if not an atheist. Nevertheless, he undoubtedly, as I saw it, adopted Christian precepts in his behaviour.
This achieved its consummation in his establishment of an organisation in memory of his then life-partner, William Fletcher. But that was not to be enough.
In the middle of a January night, over 40 years ago, I had a most distressed call from Trevor: Bill had died. In the grief-stricken days that followed, unbearably sad for him, I think he was sustained by the single thought of keeping Bill’s work alive.
At the time, Trevor was a much-respected and hard-working Inspector of Science for the New South Wales Department of Education. He took a year’s unpaid leave – before the institution of paid long-service leave and loadings – first researched, and then wrote, a substantial book on Bill’s life and work. At the time Bill was represented in galleries national, state, and municipal, and private collections; but he, like Trevor, was unassuming, and detested drawing attention to himself. In consequence, Trevor was unable to find a publisher; so he self-published, at considerable personal expense.
Simultaneously, he did the groundwork for, and later founded, The William Fletcher Trust, which became the William Fletcher Foundation. Trevor sought advice about someone to chair his organisation: he was extraordinarily fortunate in being recommended the solicitor Ken Tribe: a Companion of the Order of Australia, a giant in the world of music and the arts, an extraordinarily busy man who nevertheless made time to fit in another chairmanship, which he surely did not need; I think he may have responded to Trevor’s sincerity, another of his great qualities. In Ken, he struck gold. With his great experience in the law and in dealing with governments, and with his charm, Ken was the perfect foundational chairman.
I digress here to mention two of Trevor’s closest university friends, Don and Viv Willis, who sadly both predeceased him. They are represented today by two of their sons: Grahame, with his wife Jane, and Martin. It was Martin – to whom Trevor introduced me – who, working at the time for the Anti- Discrimination Board, said to me, ‘If you are ever looking for a chairman, I recommend my boss’ – who happened to be Chris Puplick AM. I knew Chris as a devoted member of the NIDA Company Board (from which he regrettably later resigned). The Foundation at the time was experiencing some troubles; I invited Chris and Trevor to dinner, they hit it off, and Chris – like Ken, a very busy man (‘if you want something done, give it to a busy man’) – made time to be Chairman. Though not Ken’s direct-in-line successor, Chris has been as wonderful a Chairman in every respect. Trevor struck gold again.
One of the first Trevor invited to join the initial Board of Directors was his old friend and fellow-teacher, Robin Wines (our first Secretary) who became his indispensable helpmeet, and – in 1990 – his wife. I frankly do not know how Trevor would or could have coped without Robin, particularly over his last declining years.
That first Board included three Department colleagues, all – like him – inspectors: Eula Guthrie (also a Regional Director, and later a Headmistress), Neil Morrison (father of Dr Ellen Borda, Robin’s equally wonderful successor as Honorary Secretary), Paul Milton (whose subject was Art), Linda Slutzkin (Art Gallery of NSW), and me.
Trevor inherited all of Bill’s many paintings. He arranged the first, and largest, of three gallery exhibitions, the proceeds of which he applied to the Trust/Foundation, often over the years topping up with further personal donations. He sold their beloved Church Point house, with its breathtaking view.
Self-denial. The other comes first.
Trevor’s generosity was not confined to organisations, as some here today can attest, myself included.
At 90, as I traverse my last miles, ever more slowly, there is one human quality I have come to prize above all others: goodness. Trevor John Andersen, imperfect as we all are, was yet a good man: he did good things; he was good to people; he lived a good life. I am the better for having known him.
– Terence Clarke, delivered at the memorial service for Trevor Andersen, 14 March 2025