Our People
28 January, 2026
Ron Roberts: A life deeply lived, and generously given to Ararat
RON Roberts was the sort of man whose influence spread quietly but permanently through our community. Teacher. Principal. Volunteer. Justice of the Peace. Celebrant. Tour guide. Committee chair. Mentor. Storyteller. And, above all else, a devoted family man whose sense of duty to Ararat was matched only by his love for his wife Pauline and their family. Ron passed away on January 3, 2026, aged 83, after a long battle with prostate cancer and a short final illness, surrounded by those he loved. It marked the end of a life that was not simply long, but deeply, deliberately and generously lived.
Born in Melbourne in August 1942, Ron grew up with a curiosity for people, ideas and institutions. It was a curiosity that shaped both his professional career and his lifelong commitment to community service. He attended Hamilton Senior High School before studying librarianship at RMIT, then English literature and politics at Monash University.
In 1979, Ron’s academic promise was recognised with a Rotary International Scholarship that took him to the Midwestern United States. While studying libraries there, he spoke often at community events about Australia and its civic life, even crossing paths with a young Bill Clinton. The experience reinforced a belief that would guide the rest of his life: that strong communities are built through participation, not observation.
That belief would find its fullest expression in Ararat.
In 1983, Ron and Pauline moved to the town that would become their home for more than four decades, when Ron accepted the position of principal at Ararat 800 Primary School. He held the role until 1991 and became widely respected as a principled, thoughtful educator who supported students, families and staff with equal care.
Education, for Ron, was never confined to the classroom.
Later, after leaving the principalship, Ron moved into a new phase of public life as a civil celebrant — a role that allowed him to continue serving the community in deeply personal ways. As his son Jason reflected last week, Ron occupied a rare place in the lives of generations of locals, a role that deepened rather than diminished after he left teaching.
“He was a principal to people as children, married them as adults, and sometimes buried their parents,” Jason said, “All the important moments in life.”
Alongside his celebrant work, Ron’s contribution to Ararat continued to expand.
His name became closely entwined with the preservation and transformation of J Ward, one of the town’s most significant historical sites. He attended the very first meeting exploring the idea of opening the former gaol and asylum as a tourist attraction, at a time when the proposal was controversial and far from universally supported.
He returned from that meeting as secretary and immediately began working with council staff and development bodies on a feasibility strategy that would guide the project forward. When J Ward officially opened on Easter Day 1994, Ron quietly left town for a three-month world trip, confident the organisation he had helped build would endure.
It did. And when he returned, Ron resumed his role, serving as secretary, later as treasurer, and continuing as a volunteer tour guide for nearly three decades. He recruited and mentored volunteers, safeguarded historical accuracy, and never lost sight of the need to treat former inmates with dignity and respect. For countless visitors, Ron became the voice through which Ararat’s past was understood.
Service, for Ron, was never limited to one institution.
He held leadership roles across education, tourism, health and civic life, including serving multiple terms as chairman of the Ararat and District Hospital Board and later being recognised as a Life Governor of East Grampians Health Service. He was deeply involved with Rotary, serving as club chairman, leading the club’s first female Rotary Exchange program, and in 1992 receiving the Paul Harris Fellowship, Rotary’s highest honour.
From 1995 to 2020, Ron served as a marriage and funeral celebrant. He guided families through moments of joy and grief with calm authority, empathy and care. He officiated 828 weddings, uniting more than 1,600 people in marriage — a figure that became a source of gentle family humour when discussing just how many times he’d seen familiar faces return.
Why did he take on the celebrant role?
“He just wanted to communicate with people,” Pauline said, “That was the sort of person he was.”
It was never about money. It was about connection. As Jason recalled, Ron could remember names, places and stories from ceremonies decades earlier.
“Of the 828 weddings he did, he could still remember people’s names right up until the day before he passed away,” he said.
Later, as a Justice of the Peace from 2007, Ron continued to give his time freely. Even in his final weeks, Pauline said, he insisted on driving himself to Ararat Neighbourhood House to help community members with their paperwork.
“His brain was still very active,” she said, “He always wanted to stay independent.”
Yet for all his titles and responsibilities, Ron was never pompous.
He was known for his humour, his professionalism, and his endless supply of “bad Pa jokes”. He could speak with equal ease to a local tradesperson or a foreign dignitary.
“He could talk to anyone,” Pauline said, “It didn’t matter who they were.”
At the centre of Ron’s life was Pauline, his partner of 63 years and wife of 60. Together they raised their children Jason, Tara and Chris, and delighted in their grandchildren Addie and Jade.
“We did everything together — literally everything,” Pauline said, as she shared stories about their many adventures packing a backpack each and heading off to destinations around the world.
In reflecting on his father’s life, Jason came to a simple conclusion.
“There are very few people who would have given as much of themselves to the community as he did,” he said.
In one of his own reflections on volunteering, Ron once described his work as “a great chance to repay the people of Ararat for all I have received in my life”. It was a sentiment he lived quietly, consistently and without expectation of recognition.
Ararat is richer for his presence, and poorer for his passing.
In accordance with Ron’s wishes, a private cremation was held. But across the town he served so faithfully, his legacy endures in strengthened institutions, preserved history, and countless personal moments shaped by his care.
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