Fr Ian Dillon (pictured with Jesuit Social Services CEO Julie Edwards), who died recently at the age of 85, lived an unobtrusive Jesuit life. But his story is of wider interest because it reflects some of the central changes in society, church and the Society of Jesus during his lifetime.
Ian's father was Joe Dillon, the personnel manager and trouble shooter for General Motors in Melbourne. Industrial relations, particularly in a company with its head office in the United States, were robust and often confrontational. Joe Dillon had a wide reputation for being tough, but also fair.
That was also Ian's reputation as a teacher. I first met him after I had joined the Jesuits and he had been ordained. He came to the Melbourne funeral of his brother, Alan, who was my father's partner in their medical practice. Alan, whom I had known as a softly spoken and gentle man, died of leukaemia at the age of 31. At that time Ian spent much time with Alan's wife, Jean, and her young family. He was practical and forthright, as rugged as Alan was gentle.
At that time Ian often told colourful stories about his experience in schools as student and as teacher. He portrayed teaching as a power struggle, in which the students and teachers were naturally pitted against one another.
As a boy he had studied at Xavier College during the early 1940s. Many of the students' fathers were away with the armed forces, to which the boys themselves might expect in their turn to be called. The mood of the school was boisterous and edged. Disorder could break out at any time.
Ian recalled with a participant's enjoyment the mini-riots in the school hall. The teachers were unable to quell them, until Fr Tom Montague, a diminutive priest, entered the hall, stood and surveyed the scene and its actors. The boys melted away. Fr Montague was Ian's model teacher, a man who wordlessly projected power.
I later taught with Ian. He was nicknamed Matt, after Matt Dillon the TV sherriff. He was strict and direct, but well accepted by the students, especially the mischievous and headstrong. They sensed his respect for those who played their part in the adversarial game. But he made sure that he won.
I found him warm and supportive when I asked him for advice, a man of firm and practical faith. But as a beginning teacher who lacked all