On the eve, this coming week, of the release of Recollections issue 50, South Coast History Society is pleased to announce that its fabulous new website https://www.southcoasthistory.org.au/ now welcomes you to visit it.The aim of this website (which, as you will discover, is still very much a ‘work in progress’!) is to ultimately hold the most extensive, the most accessible compilation of NSW South Coast histories. These will be available 24/7, at no cost, to everyone and anyone who is interested in the area’s fascinating history.Downloadable copies of all 49 past issues of Recollections (containing hundreds of interesting NSW South Coast stories) have been the first thing we’ve put up on the website. You’ll also find details about the 101 objects in the Bega Shire’s Hidden Heritage project have been included, as are profiles of some of the South Coast’s historically most significant women.In coming months comprehensive sections will be added about South Coast pioneers, South Coast shipwrecks, South Coast towns and their histories, the South Coast’s interesting historic buildings…and a lot, lot more.The development of this new website is the latest initiative from the exceptionally active, innovative South Coast History Society - an entirely volunteer-based, community based, community-focused organisation that, quite simply, is committed to promoting and sharing the area’s - your area’s - colourful history.We hope you’ll enjoy regularly visiting this fabulous new website...and we encourage you to let your friends know it is now ‘open for business’.     

The South Coast History Society’s Recollections magazine is a treasure trove of historical insights, and its latest 50th issue is a cause for celebration. Highlighting 50 memorable moments from the region's history, this special edition paints a vivid picture of the South Coast’s past, from the Illawarra and South Coast Steam Navigation Company to the geological marvels of Bombo's basalt quarries.Kiama residents and history enthusiasts have plenty of local connections to explore through Recollections. The Pilot’s Cottage Museum, a landmark restored by the Kiama and District Historical Society in 1983-85, serves as a gateway to understanding our town’s rich maritime heritage. Nearby, Kiama Library’s History Section offers resources that complement the fascinating narratives found in the magazine, making it easier than ever to connect with our past.The stories in Recollections highlight the importance of community led preservation efforts. From the restoration of the Pilot’s Cottage to the local projects that have preserved our landmarks and tales, Kiama’s history continues to thrive thanks to dedicated volunteers and organisations. Whether through a visit to the museum or by browsing the history section at the library, every resident can take part in keeping Kiama’s stories aliveDive deeper into these captivating tales by exploring Recollections online or obtaining a printed copy. For more information, visit their newly launched website, www.southcoasthistory.org.au, and celebrate the shared history that unites Kiama with the broader South Coast community.

Since agricultural shows have been a staple of the South Coast for nearly a century, it is fitting to reflect on the impressions and experiences that have been a pleasure to recall. This tribute goes to the administrators and competitors, many of whom, in their hundreds, have contributed to making these shows the successes they are today. While my focus will be on the Kiama Show in general, the show held in 1924 holds particular significance and special memories that I would like to share.The success for these enterprises depended mainly on the acumen and voluntary labour of local citizens - a feature of country living and cooperation that astounded our city cousins who marvelled at their unanimity and dedication - who through their generic and family inheritance maintained that which their forefathers had established down through the years. It is this factor which has been the life's blood of the Show Societies up and down the South Coast, aided by generous donations of local citizens and by firms with country affiliations. This in no small measure assisted management and exchequer alike. Some societies maintain a membership of 600 subscribers.Back in the day when I was first able to form impressions of shows was when cars were only just making their appearance among the local farming fraternity. Mostly they were referred to as tourers, because the hoods were able to be folded back to give an 'open air' journey and lady passengers had to have several hat-pins driven through hair and hat to prevent dislodgement. To be fully dressed it was obligatory for ladies to wear a hat in company and those who allowed their hair to stream may have an unsavoury appellation apply to them. There was not much entertainment in those days, and the show was a gala event for the district. It was a day of great excitement. For the women their second best dress was worn on the first day and their best dress on the second dayThere were few sedan cars, as I recall those fortunate to own a sedan were either wealthy or had a mortgage. Both cars had running boards on either side, but the sedan had glazed windows and a luggage-carrier at the rear with a large container for the carriage of items.1920s cars, while more affordable, still had a long way to go in terms of comfort and technology compared to modern vehicles. They were generally boxy and rugged, designed to handle the rougher roads of the time. Source Thus it was, the Kiama show at the eastern end of Bong Bong Street that horse conveyances of all types graced the approach to the showground, be they spring carts - which carried a load of produce for exhibition, as well as the owners family - sulkies, phaetons, or the more commodious sociable, and the horses that conveyed them were unbuckled and tied to the street fences. Generally, the cars were admitted and allowed ringside positions facing inwards to the showground ring. How one got to the show was of importance. Many rode ponies when the family conveyance was overloaded, or if the pony was to be entered in a contest, and many walked - but to be there was a 'must'. A gala atmosphere pervaded the show meetings of the day, and the thrill of joining with relations and friends for a picnic far exceeded any disability in transportation.The luncheon was usually presided over by Mother. Steamed chickens were carved and apportioned on plates of salads. Sandwiches and scones and cakes and fruit salad followed. Fathers collected hot water for tea-making from boiling copper attendants near the show gates not far from where the old organ-grinder wound his hurdy-gurdy, with a monkey on a chain who harassed those who came close enough for it to run up their clothing.Bottles of Locketts stony ginger-beer were uncorked and the liquid streamed into waiting glasses. The men discussed the merits of the animals on show, and the impartiality or otherwise of the judges. For the farmers, although they were not in a position to feel the looseness on an animal's skin, nor view its escutcheon, nor the brand, nor feel the size on its milk vein, were by experience pretty fair judges of a good producer and gave their approval at times with acclamation the decisions of the judge.  Overall came the ubiquitous monotony of the music of the merry-go-round with the putt-putting of its steam engine, and the bell-ringing of the Monies as they advertised their wares, while from the pagoda in the centre of the ring the announcer trumpeted the events with the aid of a loud-hailer, most likely made by the local tinsmith.The grand Pavilion which had recently undergone its third location, stood serenely on the southern side of the ground with closed doors awaiting the opening of the show, when it was well patronised by hatted ladies and gentlemen with ladies opening decorative parasols to shade their fair skin from the ravages of the sun. Very few gentlemen were found not wearing a three-piece suit with tie and hat, the latter constantly raised on greeting a lady of their acquaintance. Waistcoats were adorned with gold or silver fob-chains depending on the owner's choice or desire, for it was necessary to withdraw a watch to check the time, for wrist watches were not yet in vogue.The Kiama Showground Pavilion in the 1880's Source Kiama Library. Learn about the history of the Kiama Show Pavilion here Watches and sovereign cases and silver wax vesta cases were secreted in the fob pockets of the garment.Shows of the time were held on Fridays and Saturdays, the former being known as 'cattle' day and the latter more attuned to ring events for horses, with trotting events and high-jumping, together with riding events like tent-pegging, flag-racing and trotting contests. The pavilion was usually opened to the public by midday on the first day of the show when the judging of exhibits was concluded, after the president or an important dignitary there on invitation declared the show 'open'. The pavilion doors would be thrust open, and exhibitors enter to examine the results of their entries, with blue tickets being awarded first prize, red second and white third.Kiama Show vegetable display in the 1920's Source Kiama Library If perchance one of the judges had not the foresight to leave before the entry of the public, he may be held accountable for his decision by a disappointed exhibitor who felt his entry should have won a prize, He had to be rescued and quickly ushered into the member's dining-room where ladies and stewards entertained visiting dignitaries and their wives with a right Royal feast on behalf of the President and his Committee.That the Kiama Show of 1924 should come first to my mind may seem just a coincidence, but in reality, there were three great reasons why a five-year-old should remember. It was the year Dad had bought his first car- and Overland 4- and he used it to take us all to the show, which by itself was an adventure. Our Auntie Olive was included, and Dad folded the hood down to make it a real adventure, and as I was seated on her knee, she nearly lost me over the side of Weir's gully as we rounded one of the bends where some years later Paddy Harding and Bill Bergin took a nose-dive and two panel of three rail fence to the bottom of the gully when on the way to Kiama for a license for Paddy. That time, when a big rock was struck at the bottom, Billy shot clean through the canvas hood of the car!1920's Overland 4 Source The second and third reasons were to follow in quick succession. I was a rich man that day, for the pockets of my pants were bulging with copper coins totalling nineteen pence and a half-penny, and later when Dad released me to wander on my own I was told not to go too far away. I found an old waist-coated gentleman in charge of an interesting array of toys who announced 'four shots for sixpence and a prize every time,' repeatedly. He had a numbered dart board with a glass covered box containing small toys and correspondingly numbered, a bucket of Cupie dolls on sticks and some balloons. Observing my interest, he coaxed me closer.'How much money 'ave you got, son?'Proudly I presented my fortune, emptying my pockets onto the glass top. He scooped it up quickly. 'Ah', he said, 'that will just buy this,' presenting me with a shining silver whistle.'Try it,' he encouraged. I did, and it was a beauty! I blew it all the way back to Dad who was waiting for the start of a race; unbeknown to me there was a trot about to begin, and several impatient horses waiting to start, and the judge also had a whistle, and as mine was louder than his, the riders were struggling to hold their mounts each time my whistle was blown. Dad was very annoyed and took it from me and put it in his pocket. I was now a boy who lost his money and his whistle as well! For the rest of the day, I was destitute and wandered among the vendors of ballooned and canary-whistles and celluloid Cupie dolls shaking my head at their entreaties. All that aside, there were plenty of entertainments in and outside the main ring. As an advertising medium for Ziems & Jones, the car salesmen from whom Dad bought his car, and who had a garage in Terralong Street, Ces Abbot, drove a car similar to ours over a hurdle fully four feet high. The experiment being so successful he did it again. I doubt if Dad would have allowed his car to do such a jump for it had cost him four hundred pounds!Dad put me on his shoulders and took me into the boxing tent, where the spruikers were advertising with a loud hailer, drum rolls and bell ringing, that patrons should come to: 'see the little darkie fight, see the 'Yankee' sailor fight, and see the wrestle to a finish!' as shouted from the high board outside between much bell-ringing. Men were jostling to enter. Inside the tent it was hot and stuffy, choking with smoke, and the stench of sweating bodies.The boss was the referee and saw to it that none of the contestants got hurt, and Dad declared it was a put-up affair, saying the only true fight was when two aborigines fought over a girl! The cattle and horse sections of the day were always well represented in all classes, and winners were applauded.Kiama Show has always attracted the best examples of all livestock Source Kiama Library To know the effort that went into the preparation of animals for the show is in retrospect as amazing today as it was then. The pull that the show had on farmers drove them to extremes preparing their exhibits for presentation, when selected animals were pampered for three months prior, receiving the care and attention of a family member. They were fed special ration, bathed daily, rugged and taught to lead, currycombed, horns sand-papered until they shone, tails plaited and combed, special parts of their bodies clipped with heavy hand clippers- especially around the milk vein which must be swollen and tortuous and exposed, and lastly the kloots were dressed until they too, shone like Kauri-gum. There were jobs for all family members, and a lot of it being done with the aid of a hurricane lamp. There were many families exhibiting their chooks and their products to be part of their entries, as well as vegetables and fruit from their garden.  Special trains were run for the transport of cattle to the show, and each railway station had trucking yards erected on a convenient railway track off the main line, and several cattle trucks were left there overnight to be loaded by the exhibitors the next day. To do this meant the cattle had to be driven along the roads leading to the station and enclosed in the yard and loaded. The trucks then would be collected and taken to the respective show stations, to be unloaded and the cattle driven through the town to the showground and assembled for the last preparation in advance of being paraded before the judges.After the show the recovery of exhibited animals had to be repeated, and this was when the hurricane lamp was required for many a herd was milked in the dark following a show! The early breeds of cattle shown were Devon, Shorthorn, Ayrshires, Jersey and Durham, to be followed by Fresian, Illawarra Shorthorn, and Guernsey in latter years. Among the show exhibitors of cattle were names such as: McGill, Grey, Lindsay, McIntosh, Sharpe, Miller, Walker, Chittick, Hindmarsh, Richardson, Dudgeon, Cox, Crawford, O'Keeffe, O'Gorman, Pulsford, this would be extended to over a hundred when the South Coast shows were included. Many of these men showed their cattle at their own respective show, and were successful contributors where prizes were keenly contested. The Sydney Royal Show was a demanding Grand Finale where exhibitors virtually lived with their animals for upwards of nine days to display them in the Grand Parade each day. As the years progressed, and motor transport replaced the rail truck for the carrying of the cattle to the shows it became a great convenience for the exhibitors. The first stock 'crates' as they were called were framed battens around a table-top lorry, with high wooden tailboards that when lowered served as a loading ramp. Obdurate animals had to be pushed and shoved and tugged to ascend these tailboards, and there were a few exciting moments at times, especially when the 'shover' had a beast take a step back onto his boot (with a foot in it) and despite his cries refuse to lift it! This was of course, before each farmer built a loading race and ramp. Others used a convenient high bank, for the Lorinna to back against. The horse events provided a prime attraction to the shows as one would expect, and the grace and beauty of the jumpers, hurdlers, trotters and pacers vied for ovation with the more sedate equine contest in the centre of the ring.Horses attempting the high jump had names like: Echo, Musician, Azara, Euchre, and Mark Radium, were as well known as their riders and owners: McGlinchey, Chitticks, Vances, McGees,, Monteith, Devery, Nelsons, Wheatleys- just to name a few.At the Kiama show Edgar Vance was there with his horse Yellowweed and dog, Crib. Edgar had a mesmeric influence on animals and the three were great entertainers, and brought tears of laughter to the eyes of their beholders.As a team they have been recorded elsewhere.There were those whose indefatigable energy and dedication must be recorded. They were the Presidents, secretaries, the committeemen, the stewards, and most of all the exhibitors, for without them there was no show.All history-makers in their own way. Names like Beatson, Gillam, East, Somerville, Lamond, Cox, Boxsell, Petrie, Knapp, Mottram (with over seventy entries),Horgan, Benny, McClelland, Goodyer, Good, Binks, Emery, Blow, Grey, Bimden, Cullen, Miller, Higginns, Bowden, all spring to mind. A small part of that great passing parade. There were the axemen who flashing blades that thrilled the spectators`- Appo, McCarthy, Blisset, and many others who helped to make the show what it was.Many more have played a self-sacrificing part in the maintenance of the shows in their respective areas, all too numerous to mention. In all there were the ladies, the wives and sisters and mothers who supported their menfolk in everything they did and were often fore and aft in the management of the good ship! With the formation of the junior farmers' Clubs state-wide, and to the South Coast came one George Carse in the year of 1932, who worked through the schools to inaugurate an army of youthful volunteers into clubs in which their main interest already rested, with projects covering a wide field of endeavour connected with the men and women on the land.These youngsters, under George Carse's' successor Arthur Chalmers were to excel beyond measure, and without a doubt he was responsible for the creation of a great band of citizens who would fulfil the obligations to the local societies and ensure the continuity of the work their forebears had begun. With the later formation of the 'Young Farmers'Movement, the Show Societies became the inheritors of this band of young men and women carefully nurtured into their field of endeavour who readily accepted nomination to committees connected with the Show Societies. As the years rolled by and electricity came to the aid of farmers and show Presidents alike, the Societies extended the show to include a night show on Saturday and this was hailed with enthusiasm by the show patrons, and those who would not come during daylight hours flocked in their hundreds to enjoy the new innovation. The cool of the night air and the extra attraction, also entertainment now able to be provided, seemed to awaken the monties from their lethargy, and music and shouting and the ringing of bells accelerated as the evening wore on as they called all and sundry to sample their wares.Sample bags were at first free, for they were in essence an advertising gimmick by the manufacturers, but over time a price was put upon them and their contents reduced. Ice creams were sold for a penny (one cent) of threepence (3 cents) as the case may be, and for Fairy Floss and a virtual armful was sold for threepence! By 1960 with the night show the ring events increased to include flag-races for the nimble-footed ponies, and water-melon races for the agile bare-back riders who had to gallop fifty yards, dismount, pick up a spherical melon (jam melon), mount and ride to the starting point with the melon under one arm. If the melon was dropped, the procedure was repeated. Excited ponies were more interested in the galloping part, and to pause to collect a dropped melon was fraught with thrills and spills along the way!The finals of trotting and harness races were held over for the night events, and the pavilion remained open until 9pm. For the young the merry-go-round and razzle-dazzle spun high and low into the night with queues waiting for rides. Gone now, these simple pieces of entertainment have been replaced by high-tech instruments that whirl at unbelievable speed, and patrons whirled almost to insensibility.The pavilion exhibits have been retained with few exclusions, and to which have been added exhibitions and competitions of Art of high quality.The flower section has always been a winner but is now not confined to local gardeners and rivalry now extends to professionals in this section.The vegetable section has been reduced in quantity and quality; these products can be purchased in local supermarkets quite readily, and so there is no pressure to grow them in home gardens anymore. Perhaps the Junior Farmers movement needs a shot in the arm!As an exhibitor in the agricultural section at local shows and Sydney Royal, it is noticeable that dozens of the varieties of yesteryear have been replaced by marketable hybrids, flavourless, but toughened to withstand the handling of interstate transport. Good varieties have gone with the 'Beacon Light' stove!I have been reminded by my sister Olive that it was the SECOND time I had been to the Kiama Show. She said the first time was when Dad hired James Donnelley's coach well in advance to take the family to the show, because of the popularity of the coach and four-in-hand. She remembers the day very well, for the heavens opened and the district was flooded! She said the horses baulked at the flood over the road at 'Bushbank' and James had to do a bit of coaxing to prevent them turning around and upsetting the coach.She cannot remember what they did as a family at the show, except to crowd under cover from the rain, be it in the protection of the coach or in the pavilion, but everyone was wet through and miserable. All the men wore oilskins and rolled their pants above their shoes, and Dad said it would be the last time he would ever book the coach, or anything in advance, for once you paid your money there was no refund come Hell or High-Water! He said it was as much a gamble as betting on horses!

As we gear up for the 177th Kiama Show on 24th and 25th January, The Bugle is bringing you the stories of the people behind the scenes who make it all happen, and why the Show means so much to them.But today, I’m taking a detour into something that’s always fascinated me: show jumping. It’s a part of the Kiama Show’s history that I’ve had a personal connection to. My own family, including the legendary “Sonny” and Bob Chittick, was part of this world, and as someone who rode the horse show circuit in the 60s and 70s, I had the chance to meet some of the legends you’ll read about here.Women jumping side-saddle, men riding bareback and vaulting on and off their horses between jumps, it was thrilling, dangerous, and awe-inspiring. This isn’t just about nostalgia; it’s about a time when show jumping was a spectacle that left crowds holding their breath.I hope you enjoy this glimpse into a piece of Kiama’s rich equestrian history.The calibre of show jumping at the Kiama Show has long set it apart, drawing competitors of the highest order, including Olympians. In 1970, Kevin Bacon, one of Australia’s finest showjumpers, competed at the Show in an attempt to break the Kiama Show high-jump record of 2.19 metres (7 feet 2 inches). The crowd roared as Bacon and his trusted horse, Chichester, soared to 2.13 metres (7 feet), delivering an unforgettable moment of drama and skill.Kevin Bacon and Chichester at the 1976 Montreal Olympics. Photo Credit: Hugo Czerny.Bacon, a three-time Olympian from 1964 to 1976, competed with Chichester at two of those Games, forging a partnership that would become legendary in equestrian history. The bond between rider and horse went beyond competition.After victories, Bacon often delighted spectators with a display of Chichester’s intelligence and loyalty. Bacon would leave Chichester outside the ring, hide behind an obstacle, and whistle. Without hesitation, Chichester would trot into the ring, searching for his rider to the delight of onlookers.This extraordinary history is part of a rich equestrian tradition captured in Kiama on Show by Karen Beasley, a vital resource for understanding the Show’s heritage.Kiama’s show jumping owes much to the traditions of England’s hunter trials. Riders faced fences of 1.2 to 1.37 metres (4 to 4.5 feet), often packed with brush, with the Australian addition of V-log jumps adding local ingenuity. Early competitions demanded hunting or steeplechase attire, with silk colours becoming a signature feature. Riders became recognised as much for their outfits as for their horses’ performances.The Kiama Showground hosted its contests in a 440-yard (402-metre) arena with six 1.2-metre (4-foot) high jumps. Points were awarded based on pace, jumping ability, and breeding conformation, though the subjective nature of judging often led to spirited disputes that kept local audiences talking for weeks.One of the most popular events was the "pairs of hunters" competition, which featured synchronised jumps by matched horses and riders.The Charlie McGlinchey Memorial Grand Prix will be held on 25 January 2025 starting at 9 am Equally demanding was tandem jumping, where riders guided one horse over jumps using long reins while riding another. Nelson "Sonny" Chittick became synonymous with this challenging event, a testament to his skill and his horses’ cooperation.Other crowd favourites included the bareback hunt, where riders vaulted back onto their horses between jumps, and the sectional fours, where teams of four horses matched in colour cleared 1.07-metre (3-foot-6) jumps. Tragedy struck the sectional fours in 1959 when Bill Robertson, a member of the iconic Robertson Brothers of Wollongong, was killed during training.The evolution of women’s participation was marked by significant change. Before 1910, women rode side-saddle, but as more began riding astride, they adopted divided skirts, marking a shift from tradition to practicality and reflecting broader societal changes in women’s roles.The high jump became the centrepiece of Kiama’s equestrian events in the 1920s and 1930s. Starting at 1.68 metres (5 feet 6 inches), it often reached 2.13 metres (7 feet). In 1963, Johnson and Son's Puissance set a record of 2.27 metres (7 feet 5 inches), a feat that remains part of local lore.By the 1960s, six-bar jumping added a new layer of excitement, with six progressive obstacles testing both horse and rider. Bacon’s 1970 attempt to surpass Eric Musgrove’s 2.19-metre (7-foot-2) record ended dramatically when both rider and horse fell, with Bacon sustaining a broken rib.Example of a Six Bar Show Jumping Course Source From daring bareback hunts to thrilling high jumps, the Kiama Show has built a legacy of equestrian excellence. While some traditions have faded, the Show endures as a celebration of skill, courage, and the enduring connection between horse and rider.Credit: Information and photos sourced from Kiama on Show by Karen Beasley.

This series aims to document the memories of Kevin Richardson, a man whose life is intertwined with the history of Jamberoo. Kevin's recollections not only preserve the vibrant character of the Jamberoo Dairy Factory and its people but also offer a glimpse into a time when community spirit and innovation shaped the town’s identity.These narratives build upon the earlier story published in The Bugle titled Kevin Richardson and Geoff Boxsell changed the way we spread. Kevin Richardson began his journey at the Jamberoo Dairy Factory as a 15-year-old and quickly rose to manage the laboratory. Now, in his eighties, he reflects on a career steeped in innovation, community, and determination. From helping the factory win accolades for the best dairy product in Australia, to co-inventing spreadable butter in the 1970s, Kevin’s stories are woven with the fabric of a once-thriving dairy industry and its unique characters."Looking back now, it was a different world," Kevin reminisces, gazing across the swamp where abandoned dairies tell stories of a bygone era. “Regulations and modern expectations would never allow some of what we did, like kids joining the milk tanker drivers on their milk collection runs.The dairies on the Terragong Swamp have long been abandoned. Photographer Linda FaiersBack then navigating the floods on the swamp to pick up the milk took a lot of local knowledge and community. Local knowledge included being aware that if you couldn’t see the white guide posts on the side of the road, then it was time to turn back,” he laughs.The factory wasn’t just a workplace but a hub of activity for families. During school holidays, children would tag along with their parents, learning firsthand about the workplace that sustained their community. Kevin’s pride in those days is palpable, especially when recounting how the factory was the heart of Jamberoo life.Although the number of dairies in the region has declined from 96 to 21, Kevin emphasises that the industry is still thriving. He acknowledges the challenges posed by urbanisation and notes that much of the land used by dairy farmers is owned by land bankers. Despite these pressures, the determination of local farmers ensures that milk production remains a vital part of Jamberoo’s identity.Among the tales of camaraderie Kevin shares anecdotes of the colourful personalities who brought the town to life.One such character was Reggie “Wildcat” Jones with a penchant for mischief. Known for bringing his bull to the pub and mowing lawns in unconventional ways, Wildcat’s antics are legendary. Kevin recalls, “He once started a mower and stormed through the Jamberoo Pub bar, scattering patrons onto the counters. He then just turned it off and walked away like nothing happened.”Ellis Cady and Reg (Wildcat) Jones with Reg's Prize Bull who often graced the bar at the Jamberoo Hotel Then there was “Doc” Tate, a towering figure with a knack of keeping the schoolchildren on their toes as he rode his tiny piebald pony up Churchill Street past the school, cracking his whip. Though his real name remains a mystery, Kevin speculates, “He might’ve been called ‘Doc’ because of his skill with horses. He commanded so much respect, or maybe fear, that no one dared question him.” Doc’s whip and imposing presence ensured he left a lasting impression on everyone in the valley.In the words of local historian Clive Emery “Doc was a man as long as an oak tree, whose feet were inches from the ground when mounted on his taffy pony. His whip was carried over his right shoulder at all times, and he wore a large, wide-brimmed hat. It is said these were the first things he put on each morning and the last things removed before bed! “      Gypsy Jack was another notable character. He lived in a small shack behind Mrs. Jones’s house and worked as the local gravedigger. Reg Jones, (“Wildcat”), also lived with Lily Jones, making her home a gathering place for Jamberoo’s most colourful personalities. Patrons at the pub could look out the window and watch Mrs. Jones helping Gypsy remove his Wellington boots. Kevin vividly remembers, "She’d tug on the boots, tumble backward, and get right back up to try again. It was hilarious to watch."Kevin has many more great stories to tell, each one a vivid window into Jamberoo's rich history.Lily Jones house of colourful characters adjoined Jamberoo Hotel Watch this space for more of Kevin’s incredible memories and anecdotes.

The Bugle’s historian Mark Emery isn’t just a keeper of history, he’s a keeper of hearts, of connections, of the fragile threads that hold families together across time. His story begins on Avonlea, the family’s dairy farm perched high above the Pacific Ocean at Gerroa. The farm’s name, Avonlea, carried a sense of warmth and nostalgia, a name that conjured stories as rich as the milk they produced.Mark Emery volunteers at Gerringong District Museum once a month on a Friday. If you see him there, have a conversation he is a wealth of knowledge. Mark grew up in a place of beauty and hard work, where the rhythm of life was set by the cows and the tides. His parents, Clive and Elva Emery, were more than dairy farmers. They were visionaries who turned part of the farm into the former Avonlea Caravan Park (now known as the Gerroa Discovery Park). For decades, it has bustled with visitors, becoming a sanctuary for strangers and a living, breathing part of the community.Mark and I share family ties,his grandmother and my grandfather were siblingsMark is shaped by this life, by the values his parents quietly instilled in him. He attended Gerringong Public School and then Kiama High School, places that taught him as much about resilience as they did about the classroom. Like many kids, Mark faced his challenges, most notably, bullying. “I was bullied,” he says. “You don’t forget that.”Those experiences left a lasting mark on Mark, shaping the kind of teacher he would one day become. When he began his career as a primary school teacher, he carried with him the determination to stand up for the vulnerable. “Helping kids who were bullied, making sure they felt safe, that was the best part of teaching,” he reflects. For Mark, teaching wasn’t just about lessons; it was about seeing the kids on the edges and making them feel seen.But Mark’s story doesn’t end in the classroom. After his father, Clive, passed away, Mark became the custodian of an incredible family archive. Clive had saved everything, letters, photographs, postcards, all meticulously preserved in a leather suitcase. Holding that suitcase today feels like holding the weight of a family’s story. Among its treasures is a piece of history that takes us back even further, its holds one of our first ancestors to arrive in Australia bible inscribed with her name.It was through his collection that I rediscovered something I thought I’d lost forever. As I sifted through his suitcase of memories, I found two precious photographs, one of my parents on their wedding day and another of my mother, Robyn Chittick (née Lindsay), as a 14-year-old bridesmaid at her brother Henry Chittick's wedding.Robyn Lindsay (nee Chittick) on her wedding day and as a 14 year old bridesmaid at her brother's wedding I had never seen either image before. After my mother passed away, our family photos went missing, and seeing these felt like a miracle, like reclaiming a piece of my life I thought was gone forever.Mark didn’t initially recognise the people in the photos, but when he saw my reaction, he understood their significance. “Seeing your face light up, it reminded me of my mother,” he said quietly. “She would’ve been thrilled.”Mark’s mother, Elva, was just as much a historian as Clive, though in her own way. While Clive preserved the big milestones, Elva was determined to make sure women’s stories weren’t overlooked. She ensured that their sacrifices, triumphs, and quiet contributions were remembered, a legacy that Mark has embraced wholeheartedly.Now, in retirement, Mark spends one day a month volunteering at the Gerringong History Centre, sharing his love of local history, the South Sydney Rabbitohs, and The Beatles. But it’s the personal stories, the connections between people, that mean the most to him.Mark has a simple but powerful message for anyone with a family history to share: “Start now. Write it down while you still can. Don’t just tell the big events; tell the funny stories, the moments that bring people to life. And label your photos. Always write names and dates on the back because one day, someone will hold them and wonder.”For Mark, history isn’t just something to look back on, it’s a gift we leave for the future. It’s the feeling of holding an ancestor's Bible and knowing their hands touched the same pages. It’s the joy of seeing your parents’ wedding day for the first time or your mother as a girl, decades earlier. Mark Emery’s life is a testament to the importance of preserving these moments and holding onto the stories that make us who we are.Ellen Chittick's mother brought her family to Australia from Ireland in 1880 after her husband died. Her mother died of typhoid on the trip and as the eldest girl, Ellen, no longer had a life of her own. No marriage. No children. No career. Her life was one of duty, caring for her siblings. Ellen died in 1896 at the age of 39. All we have of Ellen Chittick is a photo and a Bible. Avonlea may have been the name of his family’s farm, but it’s also a symbol of something bigger, a place where stories start, where history is alive, and where love and connection endure. Mark’s mother and father would be proud of him, of the way he keeps those stories alive, not just for his family but for all of us. And I’m proud to know him, to call him family, and to share in this legacy of remembering.

The auctioneer in a farming community is an essential member. Apart from selling ‘normal’ houses and commercial buildings the auctioneer would be called upon, on a regular basis, to sell cattle and other livestock. A livestock sale was a big community event. Many, if not all the farmers in the district would be in attendance whether buying and selling or not.Sometimes a whole farm with everything that went with it might be up for sale and THAT was an even bigger event. I can remember my father when he retired from the milking business selling and the crowd that attended the sale.Clive Emery did a story on such professionals. Now at the time of writing Clive was referring to past events in the story of Gerringong, but the story itself is 40 years old!Mark Emery     For more than a century the South Coast had been serviced by a number of Auctioneers. Their proliferation began as a result of the number of dairy farmers engaged in the industry, though irrespective of cattle, business was extended to many types of sales from properties to houses and effects.The firm of Alexander Campbell was by far the most prolific; being inaugurated in 1883 it has been handed down now to the fourth generation of the one family in the district of Gerringong. Irrespective of that sales have also been affected in areas like Kangaroo Valley in conjunction with Jack Condon, and in Albion Park with their auctioneer Paddy O'Gorman, and in Wollongong with J.N.King and Sons. This was usually done where it was considered to be advantageous to attract the personal following attending his sales.Throughout the years his son James Alexander Campbell was to take over the business, and he in turn introduced his son James Bruce Campbell to the firm and changed the title to A.J.Campbell & Son. Bruce, as he was popularly known, introduced his son Neil Campbell into the firm and the title remained. Upon his father's death Neil has extended the business into Real Estate.The primary sales in Gerringong were conducted close to the Gerringong Hotel in Belinda Street where the present Squash Courts now stand. In those days all cattle were driven along the road or Prince's Highway to and from the saleyard by drovers like Charlie and Gus Johnstone and D.H.R (Dick) Chittick. Some farmers did their own droving if the regulars were unavailable. Fat and store cattle were the main product sold at these sales, and stockyards were built near the railway line north of the present Station for transit of stock by rail.This facility was also used for the transport of cattle to the local shows both north and south of Gerringong. Calves were also sold here and a special truck was provided. The purchasers of calves were Tibby Reid and Jack Cousins and Stan Stevenson. The latter being a buyer for a retirement Trust. Calf sales began at Albion Park where calves brought odd shillings, when today they are sold for up to three hundred dollars, and are an important addition to the cattle sales. These sales were in conjunction with Paddy O'Gorman, a well-known identity at sales. Sales at Berry were conducted in North Street, west of the Methodist Church. The chief drovers there were Billy McGee and his son Jack, and Stan Stevenson. The chief drovers at Jamberoo were Doc Tate and Johnny McCarthy. Doc was a man as long as an oak tree, whose feet were inches from the ground when mounted on his taffy pony. His whip was carried over his right shoulder at all times, and he wore a large, wide-brimmed hat. It is said these were the first things he put on each morning and the last things removed before bed!        The Nowra Saleyards were on the southern end of Junction Street, and the auctioneer was Mark Morton. The chief drovers were Billy McGee, Stan Stevenson and Stan Hart. It is important to note that the saleyards had to move further out of the town area, and now with the closure of Gerringong, Berry and Albion Park saleyards A.J.Campbell and Son have built an a modern and extensive and convenient selling outlet on the Cambewarra Road five hundred metres from the Prince's Highway a kilometre north of the city, and this facility now services the greater part of the Coast, selling upwards of five hundred head at weekly sales. Motor transport has taken over from the drover and his dog today, and huge pantechnicons capable of carrying sixty head of cattle service the Coast from the Nowra sales.The pioneer of motor transport of cattle is Bob Stevenson, who began with a small lorry capable of carrying four or five beasts at a time, with a tailboard that could be dropped for the ingress and egress of cattle from his truck. He was followed by Sam Glenn and Bob Monteith, and many other farmers adopted the idea and began hauling their own cattle to and from the sales. For all that, personalities like Doc Tate, Jack Gilroy and Billy McGee should have effigies to their memory erected in their own towns together with their sagacious dogs, all icons of an age now past! When Jack Gilroy retired he sold us his black pony Bessie and saddle- it must have torn his heart to pieces to have to part with such a delightful little companion! All because of the coming of the motor! 

Mark Emery, a lifelong lover of history, has taken on the role of preserving his family’s incredible legacy.Mark Emery at Gerringong History Museum surround by his father's legacyChristmas is the perfect time to start sharing the stories you want to be part of your family history. Gather the family, have some fun, and interview the older generation, ask about their memories, the funny stories, and the moments that matter. Take some great photos and make a point of labelling them with names and dates. And if you’re ready to begin preserving those stories, start your journey by finding a special place to keep it all, a suitcase, like the one Mark Emery inherited, that can be passed down from generation to generation.Growing up on Avonlea, the family’s dairy farm overlooking the Pacific Ocean at Gerroa, Mark inherited not only a love for hard work but also a passion for storytelling from his parents, Clive and Elva. While his father meticulously collected the family’s historical records, letters, postcards, and photographs, his mother ensured that the women’s stories were remembered too.Today, Mark is sharing those family records and stories through The Bugle, helping the community connect with the past. He also volunteers at the Gerringong History Centre once a month, encouraging everyone to start recording their own family history before it’s too late. Here are Mark’s heartfelt tips and tricks for anyone ready to preserve their own family’s legacy:Start Now, Start Small; Don’t wait for the “right moment” to start—just begin. Jot down the basics: names, dates, and relationships. Every piece matters.Write Down the Stories: Facts are important, but don’t forget the funny or poignant moments that make your family unique. Those stories will be the ones future generations cherish the most.Label Your Photos: Always write the names of the people, the date, and the location on the back of your photos. It saves endless confusion and preserves memories for future generations.Record the Women’s Stories Too: Like Mark’s mother, Elva, make sure the contributions and voices of the women in your family are remembered. Their stories are just as vital as the milestones.Talk to Family Members While You Can: Have conversations with your older relatives. Ask open-ended questions like, “What was life like when you were young?” or “What’s the funniest thing that ever happened to you?”Save Letters and Postcards: These are tiny time capsules, filled with emotion and details of daily life. Preserve them carefully, and consider scanning them for safekeeping.Use a Family Tree Tool: Visualising your family’s connections helps you map out your history. Online tools like Ancestry.com or MyHeritage can help you build an interactive tree.Digitise and Back Up Everything: Scan old photos, documents, and letters to create digital backups. This ensures they’ll be safe even if the originals are damaged or lost.Include Historical Context: Add context to your stories by placing family events alongside major historical events. It helps future generations understand what life might have been like.Preserve Heirlooms: Photograph family treasures—whether it’s your grandmother’s ring or your great-grandfather’s Bible—and write down the stories behind them.Write a Legacy Letter: Summarise your family’s history and values in a letter for future generations. It’s a meaningful way to connect them to their past.Keep It Honest: Families aren’t perfect, and that’s okay. Include the struggles as well as the triumphs; they’re part of what makes your family story real.Make It Fun: Share your discoveries with your family. Pull out old photos during gatherings, or create a book of family recipes and the stories behind them.Use Mark’s Suitcase Rule: Mark keeps many of his father’s records in the original suitcase they were stored in. Whether it’s a box or a digital folder, have a dedicated space for your family’s history.Volunteer or Donate to History Centres: Mark shares his time and family records with the Gerringong History Centre. Consider donating copies of your family stories to local historical societies to preserve them for the wider community.Be Persistent, But Patient: Building a family history takes time. Focus on small steps, celebrate milestones, and remember that it’s a labour of love.Encourage Others to Start: Mark reminds us, “Start now. Write it down before it’s too late. Your family will thank you.” Even if it’s just a few stories or labelled photos, every little bit makes a difference.For Mark, preserving history is about more than just the past, it’s about creating connections for the future. His work reminds us that stories are not just told; they are built, cherished, and passed on. So grab a notebook, start asking questions, and let your family’s legacy live on. As Mark says, “It’s the funny little stories and the names on the backs of photos that keep us alive in the hearts of those who come after us.”

When you sit down with Suzanne Eggins, you quickly realise you’re in the company of someone who doesn't just love history, she fights for it. Over lattes in a local café, Sue unpacks a lifetime of preserving the stories, buildings, and people that have shaped this community.Sue began her career as a science teacher before heading back to university to complete a psychology degree, later becoming a school counsellor. When she moved to Kiama in the mid-1980s, her visits to the local museum and a fascination with historical houses sparked a journey that has shaped not just her life, but the legacy of Kiama itself.“I’ve always been drawn to history,” Sue says. “But it’s not just about what’s already happened, it’s about making sure people care enough to protect it for the future.”Sue has led the Kiama & District Historical Society for decades, wearing the dual hats of President and Secretary. She organises monthly talks, heritage tours, and the endless paperwork that comes with liaising with council, the National Trust, and NSW Heritage. It’s work that requires dedication and being in it for the long haul, but Sue seems to thrive on it.Take Barroul House, the original historic homestead on the site of the old Kiama Hospital. “I fought for 30 years to save it,” she says. “Now it’s restored. But the Kiama Police House? That fight’s still ongoing. You win some, you keep fighting for the rest.”Heritage isn’t just bricks and mortar, though. Sue lights up when talking about Orry-Kelly, the Hollywood costume designer from Kiama, and Charmian Clift, Australia’s greatest essayist. “Both are icons. I fought for and won a Blue Plaque (installed in public places to bring to life the stories of people who have shaped NSW) for Charmian last year, and I am supporting Orry-Kelly’s nomination which is on the shortlist,” she says. People should know their stories, they’re ours.”Bureaucracy, council micromanagement, and dwindling funding have all tried to derail Sue’s efforts over the years, but she soldiers on.“History matters. You have to stand up for it. It’s not glamorous, but it’s worth it. Heritage connects people to where they live. It’s not just about saving the past, it’s about making this place worth fighting for.”Sue Eggins isn’t just preserving Kiama’s history, she’s safeguarding its soul.

In our village of Jamberoo, legends Kevin Richardson and Geoff Boxsell reshaped how Australians enjoy their morning toast. If you’ve ever spread a creamy, soft blend on your bread without tearing it to bits, you have these two—and their team—to thank.Kevin started at Jamberoo Dairy Factory as a 15-year-old apprentice, soaking up knowledge from mentors like Ned Roach and Steve Dare. Alongside Geoff, the factory manager, Kevin became part of a team that didn’t just make dairy products—they made premium dairy products and redefined them. Geoff was the strategist, Kevin was the craftsman, but both are quick to credit their coworkers. “It was a team effort,” they say, remembering their multiskilled crew who stepped into any role needed to keep production running and innovation alive.“And full credit to our farmers,” Kevin added. “You can only make premium products with premium milk, and our farmers’ milk quality was second to none.”Photo from 1975 of Geoff Boxsell Manger of Jamberoo Dairy Factory from 1959-1984Their story of spreadable “butter” began with a simple goal: make butter better. By culturing cream with cheese culture, they achieved a rich, new flavour profile. But the team didn’t stop there. After perfecting their cultured cream butter, they experimented with adding vegetable oils to create a product that stayed soft straight from the fridge. The result? A smooth, spreadable blend with the flavour of butter and the ease of a spread.Photo from 1975 of Kevin Richardson who was Head of the Laboratory and Chief Butter Maker at Jamberoo Dairy Factory where they formulated and made premium dairy products for Australian families   They affectionately dubbed it “Stuff,” knowing they couldn’t legally call it butter. But “Stuff” was an immediate hit, and the team was determined to get it on store shelves. Then came the warning: the Department of Agriculture threatened to deregister Jamberoo Dairy’s butter licence if they continued production. Despite the pressure, Kevin, Geoff, and the whole team didn’t back down. They kept refining “Stuff” and eventually due to consumer pressure it finally gained approval, though it had to be labelled “spreadable”Today, every tub of “spreadable” owes a debt to the innovation and resilience of Kevin, Geoff, and the Jamberoo team. Their work—and their teamwork—changed the industry, bringing a small village invention to breakfast tables across Australia, one smooth spread of “Stuff” at a time.

Many years ago, when an important person left the district, they were often afforded a farewell. Sometimes a framed collage of photos of the district with beautiful calligraphy was presented along with a ‘do’ at the hall where the Gerringong museum is now. The museum has a few examples on a wall.I personally remember names of people who made important contributions to life in Gerringong. They would then leave the district and be all but forgotten. Alex Trevallion is a name that comes to mind. Hory Kemp is another who was fondly remembered by the people of Foxground as a teacher.Clive Emery wrote his memories of such farewells.Clive Emery:It was customary in our little hamlet of Gerringong to give departing residents a generous farewell. People of station were always accorded the trappings of superiority in our little community. Bank Managers, Town Clerks, school teachers, Ministers of Religion and Doctors always got a farewell. The paradox was that the givers of such generosity- the men and women whose life was stable in the community and earned their living by the sweat of their brow- had to await posthumous recognition of their services to the community. Even then, they would have baulked at the thought or mere suggestion had they been able. They gave from the heart, quietly, with never a thought for their own needs, but simply as a neighbour or a friend, and this trait was handed down through the generations. After all, if a gift is awarded it would be most ungracious not to receive it in the spirit of which it was given; one could hardly do otherwise!Farewells to the leading citizenry were firmly established. A dinner, a dance, a musical evening with supper and entertainment provided by the local people was to become the norm. Bank Managers and Town Clerks - of which there were few - were usually farewelled at public buildings such as a School of Arts, Soldier's Hall or Council annex. It was no use suggesting a euchre party and dance for a clergyman and his family for instance, despite the fact that he might just have loved to indulge in former pursuits, so they might get their send-off at a tea and concert or a Sunday school picnic, depending on the ages of his children, where a suitable welcome could be made to his successor.An example of a certificate given on the departure of an important person from 1990.Doctors and Police were accorded suitable honours on their departure as they were always well known and considered of high importance in the community. Doctors were philanthropists of the highest order in early days - perhaps no more than those to whom their generosity extended in lots of times had the position been reversed - but they were educated, and their position was respected by all and sundry.The policeman was equally known, for it was his duty to visit every home there to collect the census and the stock returns, doing the duties of a dozen men today. Not that he was overworked really - he could find time to 'wet a line' or have a game of golf almost when he chose. No, it was the uncomplicated way of life he lived, devoid of the complexity of modern times; times when the legal men could grow their own vegetables, and the doctors had a fishing boat moored near the wharf for urgent necessities to get away from appendices and tonsillectomies. Referrals to specialists were scant; indeed, the surgery or the hospital theatre were the places where the scalpel was wielded, and broken bones set with precision.Farewells were a great event. Great suppers followed repetitious speeches by the same people using the same old phrases and the same old jokes we knew so well, and we clapped them, which urged them to repeat themselves many times until the chairman rose to his feet bringing the encores to an end. A bevy of ladies slipped unnoticed into the washing-up annex, there to dip hot water from a wood-fired copper and the cup and saucers and sundries were washed and dried and packed away. They were a well organised and thorough team.Schoolteachers were often farewelled on the school premises. Once more the speeches and songs, the pianoforte solos, the jokes and suppers were repeated. The gifts were acknowledged with prescribed sentences; 'this purse of sovereigns I will hand to my wife for her loyalty and unfailing attention to my well-being!' or; 'this beautiful set of cutlery will grace our table and remind us, .'But the send-off which shall stay forever in my memory as the prince of all farewells was when a certain headmaster received a wallet of notes to the value of forty-three pounds from the chairman on behalf of the community. There were many eulogies in his favour, and when he rose to his feet to respond he was greeted with much clapping and enthusiasm. It could have been this adulation which increased his feeling of importance or caused him to regret his imminent departure.'Friends', he said in conclusion, 'I thank you all for the kind things said about me this evening. It worries me that I will be missed so much. . . so I think I'll stay!'As he resumed his seat the audience were dumbfounded! The tumultuous handclapping did not materialise. Everyone waited for the other to start the clapping. Out of deference somebody clapped a couple of times, then others followed while many sat on their hands. Probably they were thinking of their donation, now in his pocket, the supper provided, the decorations, the music, the songs and speeches. The clapping died away and a humiliating silence followed. People rose to leave. . .the party was over . . .we've been robbed. . .I wonder?But stay he did. . . for a year until his retirement, while those who feted him went home to make and save another donation for his successor! And even his football friends never reinstated him to the elevation he had enjoyed!

From its establishment in 1954, to its present status as an essential part of education in Kiama, the school has been dedicated to providing dynamic learning through its values of respect, responsibility, and excellence. As alumni, staff, and students gathered to mark this significant milestone, Kiama High School (KHS) reflects on its proud history and the future ahead. Historical student note books on display in the school hall.Principal Catherine Glover, as well as students and staff past and present, attended the festivities, with celebrations including live music, rides, memorabilia, open classrooms, and the new Kiarama Café.The local community was invited to take ‘a trip down memory lane’ with a showcase of school photos, historic newsletters, and memorabilia that captures the school's proud history. Student artworks on display with a side show of memories.Visitors were able to explore archived photos and yearbooks, revealing an evolution of the school's grounds and heritage. Former deputy principal and teacher Darrell Shephard expressed his interest in seeing how KHS has grown over the decades and being able to reminisce about the school's history. Having worked at KHS for 41 years, Darrell saw many changes of leadership within the school, new developments in buildings and facilities, and generations of students. This milestone has brought together alumni, staff, students, and the community to celebrate and experience the journey and legacy of KHS. 

The Kiama Blowhole draws around 900,000 visitors annually, making it one of the town's most iconic landmarks. Yet, despite its popularity and the risks associated with the surrounding rocks, there is no defibrillator installed at the site.Over the years, 25 people have tragically lost their lives at the Blowhole, with several more fatalities occurring at the rocks nearby. Just this past August, a father and son lost their lives in the area.Dr. George Puris, a local healthcare provider since 1974, has long advocated for the installation of a defibrillator at the Blowhole, more specifically at the lighthouse. He has written extensively to The Bugle, highlighting the potential life-saving benefits of having such a device on-site.“A defibrillator, like the Heart Starter, costs only $360,” says Dr. Puris. “It’s simple to use—just follow the instructions, place it on the chest, and it can save 7 out of 10 lives. No need for CPR or waiting 20 minutes for paramedics.”Dr. Puris, along with The Bugle, has raised the issue with Kiama MP Gareth Ward, who in turn wrote to the Minister for Health, Hon. Ryan Park MP. Unfortunately, Ward received a disappointing response from the Minister’s office.“The Minister expressed appreciation for the matter being raised but indicated that no assistance or government funding would be provided at this time,” Ward says.One of the key challenges in installing a defibrillator at the Blowhole is that the area is Crown land, which complicates the approval process.“Since the Blowhole is Crown land, there are several layers of approval required. First, the relevant local authorities, such as Kiama Council, would need to support the initiative,” says Mr. Ward. “Then, permission from the state government, through agencies that manage Crown land, would be necessary to ensure compliance with regulations. Funding would likely remain a hurdle, but community grants, local fundraising, or state government initiatives could be explored.”Ward notes that the complexities of managing Crown land pose unique difficulties for small towns like Kiama.“The bureaucratic processes involved in gaining approvals and the lack of direct control by local communities can hinder necessary upgrades or safety measures. It’s something that needs to be addressed to ensure residents and visitors are safe and well-served, particularly in high-traffic areas like the Blowhole,” says Mr. Ward.In response to inquiries about the installation of a defibrillator, Kiama Council issued a statement clarifying the current situation.“Kiama Council currently has 20 defibrillators installed at key locations, including Blow Hole Point. Our Visitor Information Centre adjacent to the Blowhole has one, as does our nearby holiday park, Kiama Harbour Cabins.”While this response reassures that defibrillators are available at key sites nearby, the absence of a device directly at the Blowhole raises concerns, given the risks associated with the rocky coastline and the high number of visitors. As discussions continue, local advocates like Dr. Puris are hopeful that the necessary steps will be taken to ensure that a defibrillator will be installed at this popular yet perilous landmark.Check out the location of defibrillators in our LGA on The Bugle App. 

If you missed the November 9 steam train event—which had a memorable few moments coinciding with Kiki's performance in the Spiegel tent—don’t worry! The next special heritage trip to Kiama, featuring a vintage diesel locomotive and historic carriages, will roll into town on Sunday, November 17.The scenic ride begins in Sydney’s suburbs, winding through the Royal National Park and treating passengers to breathtaking coastal views en route to Kiama. Once here, travellers can enjoy the seaside markets and all that Kiama has to offer. Perfect for groups, the picnic train offers a BYO option, along with an onboard Buffet Car where drinks can also be purchased. Be prepared for festive groups arriving on the next one - a unique way to celebrate the holiday season! 

Orry-Kelly was a three time Oscar winner who worked with celebrities like Marilyn Monroe, Bette Davis and Katherine Hepburn. He has credits on 300 films which include titles like Casablanca, 42nd Street and Some Like It Hot. When he died in 1964 his pallbearers included Cary Grant, Tony Curtis, Billy Wilder and George Cukor and his eulogy was read by Jack Warner.You would expect a man like this to be widely celebrated and known in his home country, especially his hometown. And yet, ask the majority of people in Kiama if they know who Orry-Kelly is and they would be hard-pressed to give you an answer.Yes, Orry-Kelly was born in Kiama in 1897 and lived here until he moved to Sydney at age 17. He won three Academy Awards in 1951, 1957 and 1959 and he is known for the way he would tailor the clothes toward the actor and the character.Other than a few artefacts featured in the Pilot’s Cottage Museum and the Orry-Kelly stage in Hindmarsh Park - Orry has not had much prominence in his hometown.President and Secretary of the Kiama Historic Society Sue Eggins says that this is an improvement as when she joined the organisation in the middle of the 1980’s they had no record of Orry-Kelly at all.“No one knew or had heard of Orry-Kelly, I hadn’t heard about him and we didn’t even have a file on him in the museum. We had a file on his father William Kelly, but nothing on Orry. All they had was that they thought his name was Horace,” says Eggins.Eggins first found out about Orry in 1994 when she was handed an 8 page Vogue Magazine article written by Karin Upton Baker.“That was just a wonderful article,” says Eggins. “And from that I started talking about him. I’ve probably done a hundred talks all over - some for the historic society, the library, Probus clubs, the Lions club, Apex clubs, lots of bus groups that come to the museum - so I’ve been preaching about him but still no one seems to have heard of him.”In 2015, Australian Director Gillian Armstrong (Little Women) released the film Women He’s Undressed, a documentary film about Orry’s life. Eggins is credited as a researcher for the film.“The producer Damien Parer came down a number of times and then Gillian Armstrong contacted me and she came down a number of times with Katherine Thompson, who was the scriptwriter for the film,” says Eggins.“I drove them around the town, showing them the different places. I picked a lot of spots that they could film from, they wanted photos without the highway and the trainline so I showed them that. I picked out a dozen photos from the archive, which were photos of the town around 1890 and the 1900s as that’s when Orry would have lived here.”Eggins felt the film might have brought Orry-Kelly back into the spotlight, but she still feels he hasn’t got enough awareness in the local area. As a result, Eggins and a group of individuals called Kiama Icons and Artists are planning a major event to celebrate Orry in July, 2025 at The Sebel.“He was a little boy in Kiama who went off to become a Hollywood star. He was the only Australian for a long time with three oscars. It’s been ten years since the film, so anything to get Orry back into the spotlight,” says Eggins.“This event will celebrate Orry’s life, his movies, fashion, art, plays - everything. And I just hope that he finally gets that recognition he deserves.”If you're interested in supporting this celebration, join Kiama Icons and Artists on December 1 at 3 PM at The Sebel. Together, we can honour Orry-Kelly and ensure his legacy is remembered. More information about the event can be found here.

Gerringong Library is one of the oldest free public libraries in the state and this month it will celebrate 150 years of literary glory, when it launches its Sesquicentennial Exhibition on November 7. The library was built in 1874, after Gerringong council decided Kiama library was too far away for locals to access. The council voted to house a collection of books in the town's Fern St grocery store and owner Mary Ann Scott charged £14 a year for the space and her librarian duties. The library moved into the Soldiers Memorial Hall in 1921, before shifting to Gerringong’s Town Hall when it was built in 1950. In 2021 it moved into its new premises on Blackwood St, which includes the Gerringong Museum and GLam Gallery.To mark the library’s 150th celebrations, Gerringong & District Historical Society will host 'A night at the museum' with Caroline Baum from 5.30-7.30pm on November 7.Baum, a well-known journalist and radio and television broadcaster, will discuss the history and importance of libraries in shaping the nation’s literary landscape.Tickets are $10 and can be purchased through the library website. The GLaM Gallery will also host a free Sesquicentennial Exhibition from November 8-23.

When Ian Clifford glances out of his window after dark he always checks to make sure Kiama Lighthouse is shining bright.An electrical engineer who has worked in radio and television and now does contract electronics and communications work, Mr Clifford has made it his mission to try and ensure all 142 heritage lighthouses across Australia are maintained and preserved.Source: Kiama Historical SocietyMr Clifford is president of Lighthouses of Australia, a volunteer-run organisation tasked with promoting, protecting and preserving the hundreds of lighthouses that dot Australia’s coastline. It is a lifelong passion that started when he was a young boy growing up near the famous Cape Byron lighthouse.“We would roam the headland as free-range kids and annoy the keeper to take us up,” he recalls. When Mr Clifford moved to Kiama more than 30 years ago he was delighted to discover the lighthouse, which he can see shining in his windows, was an integral part of the community. One day he noticed Kiama’s iconic beacon wasn’t lit up, so he “went to some pretty great lengths” to contact the relevant custodians to ensure it was fixed. When it happened again NSW Transport and Maritime Services entrusted Mr Clifford with its maintenance.“I’m almost like a modern-day keeper,” says Mr Clifford. “The custodians handed me a key and said ‘we’ll call you if it doesn’t work’. So on the rare occasion it needs to be fixed, I sort it out. But it’s very reliable these days.”When lightning struck the tower in 2017, Mr Clifford was part of a team tasked with removing the electronic system installed in the 1970s. It was replaced with an LED conversion system that turns off at sunrise and on at sundown.Mr Clifford still checks nightly to make sure the iconic lighthouse burns bright. “I automatically glance at it every night and say ‘yeah it’s working’,” he laughs. Kiama is one of 350 working lighthouses across Australia. Built in November 1886 for £1350 pounds, it was lit up for the first time on New Year’s Day, 1887. For more than three decades a keeper would continuously light an oil-burning wick throughout the night to ensure the beacon - originally a green light - alerted ships to the dangers of Blowhole Point. Gas replaced oil in the early 1900s and by 1920 the lighthouse was unmanned. Kiama Lighthouse was electrified in 1969. “Kiama, like many heritage lighthouses, still has its original glass lens manufactured in 1886,” says Mr Clifford. “A UK company developed an LED array that could be retrofitted to the optic lenses of heritage lighthouses, some dating back even earlier than the 1880s. The heritage of these lighthouses might be a legacy from the past, but I see it as a gift for the future.The Iconic Kiama Lighthouse“Lighthouses are such a visible and rich part of Australia’s maritime heritage. They are a symbol of safety, strength, resilience and security and remain an exceptionally reliable navigational tool, even with the invention of GPS.“Many lives were saved because without lighthouses there was nothing for ships to navigate by at night, especially when it was cloudy. It is our job to preserve and protect that history and to share those stories.”Earlier this month Mr Clifford was invited to speak to experts from around the world at the International Association of Lighthouse Authorities meeting in Sydney.Kiama Lighthouse got a mention in his speech. So did Point Perpendicular, whose light was deactivated in 1994, 95 years after it was first turned on. Mr Clifford and the team from Lighthouses of Australia have worked tirelessly for the past 25 years, lobbying to have the Jervis Bay lighthouse returned to a heritage site and the lights switched back on permanently.Kiama Lighthouse's optic lens“Hopefully we are successful," says Mr Clifford. "The area where I can really make a difference is working with the custodians to try and achieve conservation of heritage lighthouses as much as is practical. Lighthouses of Australia have come to realise the public is very interested in the heritage of our lighthouses. Kiama is a great example of that, it has an incredibly high visitation rate and there is always someone in front of it taking a photo.”

By Dr Jill MillerGerringong council’s free library, established in 1874, was intended to improve the minds of locals rather than entertain them. In July 1874 the Governor authorised the issue of a sum of £200 for the institution. The Department of Justice and Public Instruction subsequently approved the list of books proposed for purchase by the council, except for the works of fiction. The Gerringong correspondent for the Kiama Independent in February 1874 hoped the council would ‘make provision for the intellectual improvement of the residents of their district’ by approving a library. In May 1874 he trusted, ‘that the books selected will be of such a character as will interest and enlighten, so that by a careful perusal the ratepayers … may learn how better to exercise their judgment in the choices of their representatives.’ Despite lamenting the fact ‘the class of books most in request are the lighter of the fictitious and pictorial works,’ he soon after conceded that the library was ‘felt to be a great boon in the present dearth of public entertainment or instruction …’The first proposal for the library came in 1869 from M. E. Robson, as a candidate for the Kiama Municipal elections. He favoured using rates on public works in the same locality they came from. His bugbear was that money from Gerringong was unjustly appropriated for facilities located in Kiama. Robson became the first mayor of the Gerringong municipality from 1871 to 1872.The Gerringong council voted to create the library in April 1874, concerned that the two-year old Kiama library was not accessible for many Gerringong people. Alderman Lee recommended Mrs. Scott as a competent custodian for a library whose collection could be housed in a room in her general store on Fern Street. The room was also deemed ‘suitable in every way for a council-chamber.’ The lady requested an annual fee of £14 for the space and her librarian duties.   Mayor Robert Miller noted that the Mutual Improvement Society of Gerringong, part of the School of Arts, might offer about £12 worth of books ‘to form the nucleus of the proposed library.’ This led to a somewhat heated exchange of letters in the Kiama Independent criticising the council for delays in access to the library. The council waited for the society to bring the books and book shelves offered by the School of Arts Committee while the committee waited for the council to arrange to collect them, with both sides saying the other was in the wrong.The library finally began lending to locals around the end of October, beginning of November of 1874. No rules had been established for borrowers, who were not sure whether they could keep books for one or twelve months. On 10 December council was informed that ‘the librarian had been subjected to annoyance and put to unnecessary trouble by parties coming to the library at irregular hours, some as late as 11 o’clock at night.’ This led to the hours of attendance being advertised.In 1875 a letter writer to the Illawarra Mercury lamented the fact that the Borough of Wollongong had not managed to open a library due to disagreement over where it should be located while libraries had been established successfully at nearby Gerringong and Kiama. By 1876 there were 18 free libraries in the colony of New South Wales, with the Gerringong library having 429 volumes in its collection and 703 readers over six months. The Kiama library had 1,245 volumes with 874 readers while the Shellharbour library had 1,050 volumes and 112 readers. The amount of money spent on books for Gerringong was considerable in terms of the council’s total budget. This led to some angst over what books should be purchased for the collection. A number of prominent local men were invited to help in the selection, including the Member for Kiama in the Legislative Assembly, S. W. Gray.In 1877 the free library and the librarian Mrs Scott, as well as council meetings, shifted to a new building that was described in the Kiama Independent as ‘void of architectural beauty’ and not suitable for ‘the requirements of Gerringong as a public building for public meetings, lectures, &c. The council made an unwritten agreement for Mrs. Scott to use the space for free in return for acting as librarian. This arrangement proved satisfactory for both sides until amended in 1891 to have Mrs. Scott pay some rent. Alderman James then noted that the librarian’s duties were very light as library records showed that borrowers themselves made the entries for taking out and returning books. When Mrs. Scott died at 85 in 1927, after over 40 years at Gerringong, her obituary noted that as librarian for many years, ‘she was brought in touch with all classes to the community, and by her fine character won the respect of all with whom she came in contact.’ Clive Emery recollected that she used to give children sweets while their parents were choosing books.The library was moved to the new RSL Memorial Hall in November 1921 and then to the Town Hall in 1959 where it remained until 2021 when it moved into our grand new library in Blackwood Street along with the new museum. GLAM!

Toileting may not be the most pleasant of topics from yesteryear.Today most people have the luxury of flush toilets. However, before this modernisation, pit toilets were the only type you had. At a homestead you would have a ‘dunny’ in the outhouse down the back. It would be a hole in the ground covered by a pan. At night you had to be careful when walking out there with a lantern. Very unpleasant during a storm or in the middle of winter. Blowflies would be a curse in summer! I’m reminded of the old song, ’There was a redback on the toilet seat when I was there last night’.. Toilet paper might consist of cut up newspapers. If you're lucky!For me personally the only experience I had of pit toilets was when setting up camp in the bush. As a scout you had one as an essential item of a well set up camp. We had strict rules as to how far from the camp or a river it had to be.Gerringong Public School 1935.Which brings me to the toilets at school. Never the most pleasant place even today. However, the toilet blocks that students now use are a luxury compared to those of 100 years ago. Flush toilets were a dream of the future. No, there was great rejoicing if a pit toilet appeared in the playground 100 years ago.  Here is a tale from Clive Emery of such an event at Foxground Public School and a subsequent incident. Anybody who says life at school was their best ever time has a very selective memory. Although Foxground was a ‘bush’ school, I imagine it was not any better in the inner city.Now you also need to recognise that in one teacher schools there was often not a teacher on duty in the playground during breaks. The teacher usually lived in a house next door to the school and would go there to have lunch. Life for students in an unsupervised playground may not have always been pleasant.In the tale below the names have been changed to protect the innocent -and the guilty!Jackie down the Hole - by Clive EmeryThose who lived in Foxground at the time will remember the tide of progress which brought us a pair of pit toilets at the old roadside school in the late twenties.Indeed, not even the pending Great Depression could hold back this wave of expenditure by the Education Department, for in the same year the one-roomed, one-teacher school was painted, and an extra water tank installed, and two, one-hole toilets erected.Now the Foxground Primary school toilets were, to the little Valley community, a milestone which turned into a millstone as successive new seasons' hats disappeared down the holes, and culprits were made to stand out behind the weather-shed on Friday afternoons when the rest of the school had story-reading. Your scribe lost one, as did Esther Cullen and a number of other pupils. Esthers was first chucked up in a gum-tree, but it blew down in the wind, only to descend to its inevitable lonely grave at playtime.The fascination of a huge pit being dug was an absorbing event for the Foxground kids, as ’Kempy’(the teacher) appointed prefects in the playground each lunch hour to keep the little ones away. What the prefects got up to while Kempy was down at his home having lunch was another matter, for a Kangaroo Court procedure of the otherwise lawless groups elevated some of them to magisterial might, trying those accused of minor offences, and handing out instant sentences.And so it came to pass that young Jacky, a habitual offender whose daily appearances for judgement taxed the imagination of even the Foxground school prefects, was given the ultimate sentence- and why hadn’t they thought of it before? … Jacky was to be lowered down the hole!It was immediately questioned as to whether he would fit through the fixed seats, and would it be more punitive lowering him into the girl’s pit (as the boys had only just begun operating) and was more or less clear and brand new? Devious young minds posed the question, a couple ran up with a ruler and measured the hole and then across Jacky’s shoulders- Jacky standing calmly, not believing his fate.Yes- he would fit alright…and Jacky froze on the spot!The big boys grabbed him and took him into the tin enclosure while some of the bigger girls and a few boys started to have slight misgivings. What if he drowned in it? What if the rope broke? Suppose they couldn’t get him up again before Kempy got back?No, they’d lower him till his feet touched IT, and then pull him up! The frightening sentence was carried out with sadistic shrieks from the executioners, but happily for this story, and young Jacky, the rope held; he was hauled to safety, and it was quite safe to assume that if ever Old Kempy heard of it, it would not be Jacky who told him!