The Roll of Honour plaque at the Gerringong RSL Sub-branch for World War II, labelled “The Great War”, reads: “Men Who Answered their Country’s Call. 1914–1918.”Behind every name on that plaque lies a heartbroken family and a deep tragedy that rocked the then tiny community of Gerringong. The official 1921 census recorded a population of just 792.None of those young men who died in the service of their country would recognise Gerringong as it is today, with its high-end properties, smart cars and affluent population.We will never know much about the men behind the plaque adorning the front of the historic Memorial Hall at the heart of Gerringong’s shopping strip:“J.E. Alexander, Died on Service; G.H. Cooke, Palestine; E.A. Cook, France; or Private J.W. Donovan, Gallipoli.” And so many others.“They put their whole life on the line,” says Gerringong RSL treasurer Leanne Mitchell. “I’m a mother, and I can’t imagine sending my children off to die. It was about serving for the betterment of all of us, our way of life.”Fast-forward through another world war, and the conflicts in Korea, Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan, and the Soldiers' Memorial Hall is no longer the bustling community hub it once was.Membership of the Gerringong RSL Sub-branch never exceeded 50 or so after World War I or World War II, yet the branch served as a vital gathering place for military personnel and their families – a place of solace for returned soldiers to remember fallen mates, and for the bereaved. It hosted dances, afternoon teas, weddings and engagement parties, supported by the local Ladies Auxiliary.Now, membership is dwindling due to age and illness, and the Memorial Hall has lost much of its former vibrancy.In an unprecedented step, the group is publicly advertising its Annual General Meeting on Monday, 16 February, declaring:“We would like to invite anyone with an interest in the RSL, or any ex or serving personnel, to attend to meet with us and see what we are about. "We welcome any ideas to encourage veterans and their families to join us.”Gerringong RSL President Mike O’Leary, 78, says they are keen to see the building once more become a community hub for returned service men and women, and for their families.Conscripted for National Service at age 21 in 1967, he wasn’t political and never campaigned against the Vietnam War – or the American War, as the Vietnamese still call it. Nor did he ponder deeply the morality of being sent to a foreign conflict. He simply figured he was unlucky that his number had come up.“I didn’t see it as an adventure, didn’t know anything about war, none of us did,” Mike recalls. “Vietnam was a complete unknown. I thought it would be like Wollongong.”Many who fought in Vietnam returned severely damaged and never fully recovered from what they experienced. Like many veterans of that terrible war, he doesn’t want to talk much about his service.“When I joined in the early 2000s there were still WWII and Korean veterans involved,” Mike says. “They have all gone. Now we are all in our 70s and 80s.“The main thing we are after is to attract more members. You need to have a defence service history, but we also have affiliate memberships.“The Anzac Day Dawn Service, which we organise, attracts large numbers. We had 100 kids this past year. It is the only community event that pulls that many people.“We want to see this place once again become a centre for social events. We are not living in the past. We are trying to get people involved.”

You think that women may have tough lives today and in many ways they do.Well, here is a story that will give you an idea of what women were up against 80 years ago.My mother, Elva Walker, as she was in 1945, had received a good education. My grandparents could afford this as Elva was an only child.At the outbreak of the Second World War most of the men in the Kiama local government area joined up for some sort of military service. That meant jobs that had been traditionally done by men had to be taken up by women. This was common around the world.Elva went to work in the Gerringong bank which was in the building on the western side of the road where the pedestrian crossing is now.It was one of the highest buildings in the town. As well as working in the bank, she also had to devote an hour a day to climbing onto the roof with her friend Helen, who was a teacher at the school. Donning a steel helmet like the one the soldiers used, they used binoculars for the hour, trying to spot Japanese planes as a prelude to an invasion. I know this might sound like a “Dad’s Army” story but it was deadly serious for a time during the war.When the war finished, the men returned. In 1946 Elva received a “pleasantly worded” letter from the bank that basically stated that, even though her work had been first class, she was now out of a job. It wished her the very best in any career she might undertake in the future. What career that may be is not speculated.I was invited to a pleasant afternoon tea at The Bugle office recently and a number of professional workers from various neighbouring businesses were in attendance. There were more women than men.The opportunities for women these days to have a full and satisfying career in any field are so much better than the olden days. Very often women were forced to “retire” from their occupation when they got married in professions such as teaching.

South Coast History Society has grown significantly over the past decade but it needs help to continue bringing the stories of yesteryear to life.The Society, which covers the vast coastal expanse from Wollongong to the Victorian border, publishes the popular Recollections quarterly magazine and runs an in-depth website featuring tales of the past.It is “Australia's largest, most innovative, most active history society”, according to founder and president Peter Lacey.But it can’t run on volunteers alone and the Society is putting out the call for donations to keep its operations running smoothly.The Society needs to raise $40,000 per year to meet current demands, an ongoing challenge for the community-focused, volunteer organisation.“We’re run totally by volunteers, and what we're trying to do is to simply provide interesting South Coast history to anybody, anywhere in the world who's interested, and particularly to people who live on the South Coast,” Lacey said. “I guess you could say that we're Australia's largest purveyor of history, and the beneficiaries of that are the people who are interested in history or live on the South Coast. We've been going for almost 10 years now.“Our philosophy is that it's our history, it's your history, and we shouldn't charge a monetary amount of money to share it with anybody. “So right from the start, Recollections magazine has been free and it has been extremely popular as a result of that. We now have to print at least 4,000 copies of each edition.”The Society’s website has been live for a year and has received hundreds of thousands of hits from people all around the world.Lacey said they also deliver talks to community groups and liaise with the other 22 locally-based historical societies up and down the coast. The local history groups are generally focused on their town and running a museum whereas the South Coast Society is concerned with recounting the tales of the past.“We don't have a museum. We don't have a library. We just are interested in the stories,” Lacey explained. “Using a marketing analogy, we're interested in the sizzle, not the sausage.”Lacey said he would much prefer to be focusing on history rather than appealing for donations but “fundraising is just a fact of life”.“We get nothing from councils. We get nothing from the state or federal governments. We're totally reliant on commercial organisations, Rotary Clubs or groups like that, and primarily on individuals who simply support the Society. “With the latest edition of Recollections, we made an appeal to people saying, would you assist us by giving us a donation? Last year, we spent $40,000 basically on printing Recollections. So we've got to raise a considerable amount of money for a small volunteer group organisation.“If you're interested in history, if you're interested in supporting us, please do.”Lacey said one of the joys of the Society was reliving quirky events from the distant past, such as the article in the most recent edition about whales at Twofold Bay around the turn of the 20th century providing “a miracle cure” for rheumatism.Patients were rowed to the whaling station where blubber would be cut out of a carcass and the sufferer, stripped naked, would stand inside the whale for two hours at a time.“The whalers would dig out a piece of blubber and you would climb in there,” Lacey said.“It's a fascinating story.”A patient told the Sydney Bulletin in 1896: “For exactly 12 months, the rheumatism left me. Then it came back again as bad as ever. The smell has never left me: that dead whale haunts me still.”If you would like to help fund Recollections, send a cheque to South Coast History Society, 90 Whitby Wilson Road, Quaama NSW 2550, via a deposit into account (100112005) with Horizon Bank (BSB 802-124) or over the phone at 0448 160 852.

A century years ago, it was a big thing for country people to go to the big cities like Sydney.It took a long time to get there and many country people rarely, if ever went.Country rugby league has always been strong. Many champions have started in the country teams before starring in the top grade in Sydney. Gerringong legends Paul Quinn and Michael Cronin are but two examples.Virtually all these players represented country teams.Country rugby league is divided into groups. We are in Group 7 on the South Coast, based around Kiama. The 1929 South Coast team. A number of groups are joined together to make a region. In 1928 Group 7 joined with some other groups to make the South Coast region.A 100 years ago the NSW. Rugby League decided it would conduct a Country Carnival. It was billed as the time the country boys came to conquer the city.First the country groups would play each other on a Wednesday. On the following Saturday each country group would be matched against a city club. In 1928 South Coast was matched against North Sydney.After these the best 26 players from the city teams and country teams would make two teams and play in the annual City/Country clash.From this clash a NSW. team would be picked and other representative teams.Most of the time the country boys were outclassed, mainly because they lacked the high fitness levels and combinations of the city players. One famous example, however, of the country boys winning was in 1971 - it is a game close to Cronin’s heart.The best moment was when he stole the ball from Arthur Beetson's hand and raced away to score.These pages are from The Rugby League News in the late 1920s. It shows a picture of the South Coast team and a program of the game in 1928. Some names of interest to us are C. Miller from Jamberoo, W. Pike of Kiama and Hedley Chittick of Gerringong. Miller and Chittick’s names are spelt incorrectly unfortunately.Hedley Chittick. Hedley’s name came up regularly in the representative teams and he gave sterling service to Gerringong Rugby League.A sad postscript to Heldley’s story occurred at the start of World War II. He had been heavily involved in the local defence force when war broke out in 1939. He tried to enlist in the regular army but was rejected, mainly due to his damaged knees from his football days. He went to hospital to have an operation to correct the problem but unfortunately, he passed away aged only 35. The saddest part of the story is he was engaged to be married.

On 30 January 1926, prospective buyers gathered at Werri Beach for an auction that would shape the future of one of the South Coast’s most recognisable seaside communities.On that day, 280 blocks of land forming the Werri Beach Estate were offered for sale, marking the first formal subdivision of the area.As a reporter for The Commonwealth Home wrote at the time: “This is one of the finest places for weekend homes for motorists and those who desire the outdoor life.“We thoroughly recommend our readers investigate without delay, as prices are sure to rise with the many advantages.”A century later, the milestone is being commemorated by the Gerringong and District Historical Society, which is preparing a program of events to celebrate the centenary of the original auction.The 1926 subdivision was undertaken by James Muir Miller, a descendant of Robert and Elizabeth Miller, who arrived in Gerringong in 1838.While the auction reflected an ambitious vision for Werri Beach, early sales were modest, with only 18 blocks sold on the day.The remaining land took more than 20 years to be fully sold, as the area gradually evolved from a sparsely settled coastal landscape into the vibrant community known today.To honour this history, the Historical Society will host a series of centenary events throughout April.A commemorative book, bringing together historical research, photographs, and personal memories, is being prepared.An accompanying exhibition, Werri Beach – Celebrating 100 Years, will be held at the Gallery within the Gerringong Library and Museum complex from 14-24 April and will be open daily.On the weekend of 18-19 April, a self-guided walking tour will depart from the Werri Beach Progress Hall, featuring interpretive signs outside houses and sites of significance, with historic photographs and stories.Gerringong and District Historical Society president Geoff Webb said the celebrations would also recognise Werri Beach’s long-standing creative legacy.“We will be celebrating the work of a number of [historical] artists,” he said.“During the Weekend at Werri walking tour in April, some of our current artists will also be opening their studios.“The allure of living and creating in Werri Beach has been a magnet for artists since the 1940s, and this continues today.”Contributions can be made by contacting [email protected].

So, you think Gerringong in 1953 was a backwater and did not have any special shows.Well, you would be wrong. In spring of that year, a fashion establishment from Wollongong put on a show for the ladies at Gerringong Town Hall. Of interest is the term “mannequin” which refers to the live female models who modelled the dresses on the night. Nowadays the name is only used for plastic models of human figures, not live ones.Young girls or married women could go to Wollongong to have lessons in deportment and become a mannequin. Another interest is the sponsors for the show. A large ad from A.J. Campbell and Son for auctioneering and a ‘Shopping Guide’ list businesses from the Gerringong district. Some notable names appear such as Bergin, Chittick, Rutledge, Lumsden and Carradus.The grand news for this year's show was the extensive use of nylon. It appears in just about every garment that the discerning lady might require.I can imagine that it was a popular night in Gerringong. Looking at Google maps, it is quite sad to see the shopfront in Wollongong. Long gone are the deportment classes.

Please note - this article was first published on 4 March My father Clive Emery loved history, and often recorded local stories, some of which were written up in The Kiama Independent, the precursor to The Bugle. Looking through my father’s many stories, I came across a story my great-grandfather recalled from his days at Omega Public School. It makes for an amusing tale.Before I hand over to my father’s writing I need to set the scene with a number of points.Firstly: the railway in the 19th Century was a boon to country areas. The South Coast Railway ended at Bombo in 1887. It was proposed to be extended to Bomaderry but there was one problem. The mountains rolled steeply into the sea between Gerringong and Omega flats. It meant that five tunnels had to be built. In those days there were none of the boring machines which make tunnelling relatively easy these days. Tunnelling required the services of railway workers known as fettlers, who would dig the tunnels using a combination of dynamite and pick axes. They would set up a camp with their families. They were tough, hard men and their families were equally tough. While the men worked, their children would attend the local school, in this case Omega Public School, which was established in 1860 to cater for local farm families. The school, originally known as Omega Retreat School, finally closed in 1945. It took six years for the railway line from Bombo to Bombaderry. Omega Station opened in 1893.Secondly: Omega Public School was located in what is now a private house about half down the hill towards Gerringong on the left hand side of the road as you head South. Children would usually walk ( no buses or private cars) to school. After school they would head home and start their chores on the farm. There was no television or computer games back then. Many children had dogs. The dog would follow them everywhere, even to school, sitting outside the fence waiting for their owner to return home after school. These dogs had a loyalty to their owner and would do anything to protect them.One of these children was a boy named James J. Quinn, the ‘hero’ of our story. There have been many great families in Gerringong and one of those is the Quinn family. In sport they have excelled. The most famous was a farmer named Paul Quinn who played for Gerringong rugby league. He represented Australia and later played for Newtown. He used to travel to Sydney from Gerringong for training after milking. The person he travelled with used to complain that on the trip all Paul did was sleep.  But back to the story as my father wrote it. From Clive Emery, longtime Gerringong residentPrior to my family leaving Omega, the railway, which had formally ended at Porter’s Garden Beach, or Bombo, was in the process of being extended to Nowra. The necessity of quarrying through the rocky spurs running down to the sea caused the planners to baulk, but now the work had begun on the four tunnels. The biggest was at the Omega end, and work commenced at either side to meet at the middle. This was achieved with a disparity of only two inches (five centimetres). The fettlers pitched their camps at the job, and their children, some 16 years old, attended the Omega, swelling its enrollment to nearly 100. The boys had been reared on hard times, where only the fittest survive. By their numerical as well as physical strength they proposed to take over the school playground. Fights almost to the death ensued but the fettler’s sons had not gauged the toughness of the farmer’s sons. The battles raged during every dinner hour down by the fig tree while Richard Hall, the teacher, was at lunch. Bruised and battered the game little lads of Omega gradually fell to their bigger opponents, and it was left to James J. Quinn of Omega to uphold the honour of the school. He had to take on the biggest and toughest of the fettlers. It was a fight that had to be fought, and in recollection it is suspected that the teacher, Richard Hall, knew that, and kept wisely and discreetly inside during the conflict. There was no cheering that would have brought out the teacher, just a grunting and punching match for the whole dinner hour, while the supporters had bunched into their respective camps to watch.James Quinn, overmatched by his larger opponent, refused to give in, and fought with the tenacity of a tiger. There was one stage when he tripped on a root of the figtree and his assailant fell on him to deal the killer blow. That was deemed unfair by both camps and they were hauled apart and made to stand up and fight.Early in the fight James’ blue cattle dog, who always followed the three Quinn boys Tom, Jim and Peter to school, came in to lend support. He rushed in and grabbed the fettler boy by the calf of his leg. With a roar of pain the fettler boy kicked away the dog but he had left his mark. He prowled around at the back of the crowd of onlookers during the rest of the fight, hoping for another opportunity.It never came. The five minute bell rang and the antagonists were pulled apart and taken to the creek nearby to wash themselves down and prepare for school again.As for the fight, neither had won. A silent truce manifested itself and the two camps settled into a more or less peaceful coexistence.

The old School of Arts hall, where the GLaM is now, was the centre of all social activities in Gerringong for many years.Whenever there was a 21st birthday, engagement party, dinner dance, celebration night after Gerringong had won a premiership in sport or any other great social occasion, it was held in this building.My personal memory of this wonderful building was that it was for many years, the Scout and Guide Hall.Many a splinter was picked up sliding on the floor during games.But after the end of the Second World War, it was felt that a new, larger and more solid building was needed to reflect the progress our town was making.So, it came to be that a proposal was put forward by the Mayor G.E. Chittick and the Town Clerk A.M. Trevallion to gauge the interest from the community.There was certainly enough interest. This proposal was sent out in 1946 and here is a ticket to the Grand Civic Ball to commemorate the opening of the hall in November 1948 by J.J. Cahill just two years later.The tickets cost five shillings, about 50 cents.Gerringong Town Hall has been a centrepiece of the town ever since.Any person living in Gerringong after the end of the war would have fond memories of going to functions there.My personal favourites were going to the pictures and performing in the school play in the last term of the year at Gerringong Public School, which, at the time, was just next door.We want to hear from you - Take The Bugle survey here

On January 11, 1933 Sir Charles Kingsford Smith and his crew used Gerroa’s Seven Mile Beach as the take-off point for a flight to New Plymouth, New Zealand.On board was a special batch of cargo - several envelopes postmarked January 10, the day before Kingsford Smith’s Seven Mile beach take-off, and signed by crew and passengers.Known as airmail cover, and carried on historic flights, only five of the valuable collector's items are thought to exist - with one housed in Gerringong’s History Museum.The letter, carried by “Smithy” and signed by three crew and two passengers, thanked the town’s local ladies for providing a box of peaches to the aviator and his crew before their sandy launch.“This event established the first airmail route between Australia and New Zealand and was certainly a significant part of our local history,” says Gerringong Historical Society secretary Joy Fullager.Joy says the airmail cover, sourced by South Coast stamp collector John Graham and donated to the museum two years ago to mark the 90th anniversary of the historic flight, was a welcome addition to GLaM’s dedicated Charles Kingsford Smith collection.“People who visit the Gerringong Heritage Museum are always very interested in the items related to Charles Kingsford Smith,” she says.“The museum has a video with footage of Charles Kingsford Smith landing on Seven Mile Beach in 1933, which is very popular with visitors.“The video’s commentary is by Gerringong’s Clive Emery, who watched the historic flight when he was a child.”Just two years after the famous aviator’s take-off from Gerroa to NZ, Kingsford Smith and co-pilot Tommy Pethybridge went missing on November 8, 1935 while attempting to break the flight speed record between England and Australia.The final resting place of the pilot, crew, and plane has baffled historians for generations.Now to mark the 90th anniversary of the disappearance of Kingsford Smith aboard his legendary Lockheed Altair 8D aircraft, Lady Southern Cross, award-winning Australian writer, filmmaker, and explorer Damien Lay has released his book Of Air and Men.Lay is considered one of the world's leading authorities on the disappearance of the Lady Southern Cross and has spent more than two decades researching and documenting the historic event.Of Air and Men not only tells the story of the famed aviator - the first person to circumnavigate the globe and one of the greatest long-distance flyers in history - but documents Lay’s quest to find his final resting place and the impact Kingsford Smith’s disappearance had on his family.The wreckage of the Lady Southern Cross was first discovered in 2009, off the Burmese coast, using sonar imaging.Three years and 18 dive expeditions later Lay and his team had recovered more than 40 pieces from the wreck.Charles Kingsford Smith. Many of the dives were over 100 feet in depth in treacherous conditions - not least due to the political turmoil in Myanmar and the threat posed by pirates.“We were diving in the most dangerous conditions on earth,” Lay recalls. “Strong currents, near-zero visibility, political turmoil, pirates, militias, we had no medical evacuation, no safety net. Just determination.”The wreckage found by Lay and his team included timber and fuel lines and the discovery made the modern-day explorer even more determined to “one day … bring the men of the Lady Southern Cross home”.Over the past 20 years, Lay has worked closely with the aviator's son, Charles Arthur Kingsford Smith, who has lived in the US since he was five, as well as the wider Kingsford Smith family, and the Pethybridge family.The book uses historical fiction to document the aviation legend’s life, the mystery surrounding his final flight, and the impact of his disappearance on his family, including his son who was just a toddler at the time.“I have only a few snatches of memory of my father, and I would have greatly enjoyed his love and fellowship growing up but his disappearance just before my third birthday sadly ended that possibility," says the now 92-year-old Kingsford Smith junior.“Adding to the sadness is the frustration that much is unknown about what happened, so we really can't close the book on his life story."Many have offered theories and speculation about what happened.“Damien dedicated years of his life, at vast expense, in searching the area where the plane almost certainly went down, resulting in the most likely theory of what really happened to my father in the Andaman Sea."Of Air and Men is available through Amazon, Booktopia and many independent Australian booksellers.A copy of the book has been donated to the museum, which also houses a model of Kingsford Smith’s Southern Cross and photos from his time in the region.“The Gerringong Historical Society is very appreciative for its copy of the book which has been added to our library,” says Joy.The museum, which is staffed by community volunteers, is open on Fridays and Saturdays from 11am-3pm.We want to hear from you - Take The Bugle survey here

If you’ve ever wondered how people once travelled to and from the South Coast - long before buses, highways or a reliable rail line - historian Kevin Setter has spent years uncovering the answers.The Moruya-based researcher has traced the early transport and mail contracts that linked the railhead at Campbelltown with communities across the Illawarra and South Coast.His new book Stagecoaches and Royal Mail Illawarra Region follows routes through Appin, Bulli, Waterfall and Milton, as well as the connections from Moss Vale through Kangaroo Valley to Nowra and Braidwood. Covering 1837 to 1914, Setter documents everything from passenger conditions to railway delays, coach accidents and shifting mail schedules.Setter said the book “gives account of the conditions the coach drivers and passengers had to endure, placed upon them by the postal authorities and courts in relation to numbers they were permitted to carry in the various coaches; accidents, holdups, disputes between the various drivers”.The 244-page, fully indexed book draws heavily on historical newspapers and original court and rail records. “I use much of the local newspapers to gather all this information,” he said.Setter also used Trove, which he has done for his previous publications. “Even on Trove, there’s gaps in information.” he said.“There’s lots of papers that were destroyed accidentally or maybe through fires and things like that, the old copies were lost.“A lot of records have been lost. They’re just gone unless you can find it in another paper, a lot of the time you’ll get quotes from other areas of things that have happened.”His passion for transport history and drive to learn dates back to his studies in the 1990s. “When I was doing an associate's diploma in local and applied history at New England back in the '90s, I was going through court records and I’d seen where the stagecoaches were registered by the courts.” Those early notes eventually formed the basis for his later work.Setter’s interest also runs through his family - his great grandfather, Jamed Edwards drove coaches in Victoria.He hopes the book will prove useful to anyone researching their own ancestry. “It would be a great book for people doing family history to be able to check what their ancestors were up to.”Through his extensive research, Setter’s work launches you back in time by capturing what early travel really felt like, shaped entirely by mail timetables and the arrival of trains. “People don’t know what others before us had to endure to get around without any means of communication,” Setter said.“They relied on the mail so much to communicate with the city, relied on mail to arrive so they had time to answer it before the outgoing mail went again – especially businesspeople.”The book also includes major incidents from the era.“There’s lots of holdups, lots of accidents – there’s a big fatal accident on Bulli pass at one stage, plus other accidents have occurred that are documented.”Its cover, something Setter created himself years ago, features a tapestry version of a Tom Roberts painting.This is his third transport history title, and he’s already working on the next.“It’s kept me going for the last couple years – I’ve done the three – I got another one in progress of prisoners in the shipwrecks of the Eurobodalla coast – over 30 of them.”He is also preparing a history of the Catholic Church in Moruya. “It’s the sort of thing I’ve had an interest in, doing local history and trying to preserve some of it before it’s lost completely. It gives me a greater appreciation of what people had to endure in the past. I like local history – I’m very, very keen on it.”Setter was the 2023 recipient of the Fergus Thomson OAM Heritage Award for his previous publication Stage Coaches and Royal Mail Southern Eastern NSW 1841–1913.Copies of his new book are available by emailing [email protected] for $40 plus $15.25 postage.

Kiama Historical Society was established in 1975, so come along and celebrate at its 50th birthday party on Saturday.Tony Gilmour will launch his new book Celebrating history, defending heritage: Fifty years of Kiama Historical Society. The book brings to life why the Society was established and how we fought hard to win control of the Pilot’s Cottage which was threatened with demolition or being turned into a fast food takeaway.The Society's members have long fought to protect the heritage of Kiama and surrounding areas, defending the town's built and natural environment. They have had many successes, sometimes by working behind the scenes and other times protesting loudly.Hear how the Society has brought history to life, from fashion parades to costumed re-enactments. And after 50 years, the Society remains one of the largest and most vibrant voluntary organisations on the South Coast. That's definitely something to celebrate.Come along: Saturday 22 November 2025 at 2pm: Kiama Library Auditorium. $3 Members of Kiama Historical Society / $5 Non-Members. Includes afternoon tea and a celebratory glass of wine

If you want to speak to someone overseas urgently these days you can do so in many immediate ways. You can even see the person as you do it.When the European settlers came to Australia in 1788, the only way of communication was by letter that went by ship. This took many months. As the years went by ships travelled a little faster but it was still counted in months. At the end of World War I, wireless telegraphs made it much quicker but on many occasions, written correspondence by letter was the only effective way to communicate important or personal information.What was needed was a fast way of delivering these letters. Intrepid aviators were the answer. Australia’s most famous aviator is Sir Charles Kingsford Smith but a great partner pilot was Charles Ulm.In April 1934, not long before he was lost somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, Ulm carried the very first airmail letters from Australia to New Zealand. Gerringong’s Val Noble wrote one of those very first letters that travelled in the plane Ulm flew.This is the letter and the envelope. The fact that the stamps are missing from the envelope is not unusual. Stamp collectors, including myself, regularly raided letters to add to their collection. The stamps on this letter would have been highly prized.

Working at the Gerringong museum the other day, I was having a joke with a lady saying that to be regarded as a local in the town you have to have lived there for more than 40 years.The lady laughed and said that no, you have to have a street or park named after your family. All good fun to pass the time.Like just about every person reading this, there comes a time when you have to clean out the possessions of a family member who has passed away.Often there are many papers and documents to be sorted, some valuable and others less so.When my father died, my family had to do this. I collected all the valuable, interesting stuff and put it into a couple of suitcases.Now to digress for a moment. When the Kiama LGA was first established, Kiama was in charge of the whole area, as it is the case today.The old Walker residence in Gerringong.However, in 1871 the Gerringong residents were not happy with this and established the Gerringong Municipal Council which ran until 1954.That is a story for another day.Going through the suitcase at the GLaM the other day, one piece caught the attention of the assembled (small) crowd.What I found was an Electoral Roll for Gerringong Municipality in 1914.Some names are instantly recognisable and would have many members represented on a similar roll in 2025.Other names have all but disappeared. Maybe the families moved away but another reason could be that there were a lot of girls in the family.As the girls married, the family name disappeared. Speaking of females. Most are mentioned with the occupation of “domestic duties”. Compare that with today.Anyway, I would like to mention just a few. Many of you out there must have lots of other stories to tell from the names. We would like to hear from you.Thomas Bergin is one important one that comes up. He was a man who owned and ran what is now Cronin's pub and is a direct descendant.The Blow family was one my father remembered fondly.The Campbells are a big family in Gerringong, particularly in real estate.I have read so much about the Deverys, especially in the Gerringong CC.The Hindmarsh family, of course, with the famous Alnebank property.Who can go past the Millers.Other names come up: Gray, Johnston, Walker, Langton, Noble and so many others.I could go on with numerous stories about prominent families, either still an important part of Gerringong life today or lost in the mists of time.I suppose I could have offended somebody by not mentioning their family name.Well, if that is the case, or even if it is not, as I said earlier, we here at the Bugle would love to hear some stories about these people who lived so long ago. They all deserve to have their story told.

Today marks the 100th anniversary of Seven Mile Beach in Gerroa being the unlikely venue for a moment in history when the 100 miles per hour barrier was broken on the sands. After the Daily Guardian newspaper put up a £50 reward for the first person in Australia to reach the milestone, Don Harkness - an engineer from Sydney - wrote his name into the record books at Gerroa. Back then the beach was known as the Gerringong Speedway, a place where motoring enthusiasts would gather to attend car races hosted by the Royal Automobile Club of Australia. After the first event in May 1925, the Daily Telegraph reported that: “It was by no means an auspicious beginning, as the rain had made conditions anything but pleasant.“Many a car became bogged in the sand on the way to the racing track, while the roads leading down to the beach were so treacherous that at least 20 cars had to be abandoned for the night on the hillside.”Harkness built a speed machine after importing an Overland chassis from the United States.He called his new car “Whitey” and equipped it wih a Hispano Suiza aeroplane engine in his bid to break the national record. On 17 October, 1925, he not only became the first Australian driver to go past the 100mp/h barrier but he reached 107.75m/h (173km/h) as he motored along the flat stretches of Seven Mile Beach.According to a report in The Sunday Times, “the run was made under the worst of conditions seen for years with danger hidden in every sand hole.” A crowd of around 2000 people cheered him in his high-octane mission along the sands.Seven Mile Beach was a popular place for motor racing enthusiasts with clubs from Goulburn, Nowra and Sydney travelling to Gerroa to strut their stuff at the “Speedway”.South Coast History Society, in its recent Recollections issue, recalls that Gerringong Congregational Church took exception to the Club hosting beach racing on the Sabbath with the Nowra Leader reporting “the beach should then not be disturbed by racing on a Sabbath, so that the gentle roll and lapping of the waves on the sea shore will, in the future, continue in its quietude undisturbed”.Council then announced “In view of the council’s resolution not to permit Sunday racing, the club is to be advised to arrange such fixtures for Saturdays.”The beach was also used regularly for horse racing, which had started in the 1860s.Seven Mile Beach was also used as the runway for the first commercial flight between Australia and New Zealand in 1933. Cars lined the beach, shining their headlights to help the pilot, Sir Charles Kingsford-Smith, successfully take off at 2.30am, with thousands of spectators also watching on.Harkness continued his daredevil racing exploits until he was involved in a crash in 1935 and decided to retire.

When looking at the history of families in the Gerringong district, some have been around for many generations and are still prominent such as the Millers, Quinns and Campbells. Many others have all but disappeared. One of those is the Blow family.As a child I can remember my father talking about the Blow family from around the Gerringong district. He would regale me with stories about “Joe Blow did this” and “Joe Blow did that”. I actually never remember meeting any of them. Most, it seemed, had left the district before I was grown up. Here is a tale from Clive Emery about a meeting in Foxground for the 150th anniversary of the Blow family coming to the Gerringong district. It mentions a reunion of the family. I do not know the exact year this happened but I am guessing about 1990.A small contingent of The Blow family, accompanied by many friends and pupils of the Foxground school which closed in 1954 met on a patch of prepared pastureland situated beside the oak-lined creek for a picnic lunch to celebrate the 150 years since the original grantee, John Blow, took possession of 300 acres of the fertile Valley floor. Stories are told of the presence of numerous flying foxes in the area at the time, and so the naming of the valley was first Fox Ground, finally grouping the two words for convenience.The temperature of the day was around 20 degrees, made so by an inordinate southerly wind which lowered the usual temperature, but the geniality and friendliness of the group of some 65 celebrants overcame all difficulties and disabilities and around 40 cars lined the banks of the creek where a picnic lunch was held, and conviviality reigned.Several representatives of the early families were present, and tales and remembrances were the order of the day.Douglas Blow, a grandson of the original grantee, used the loudhailer to welcome the invitees and in a speech of explanation, he detailed the series of events in the Blow family throughout the intervening years.On various tables he presented his collection of data which consisted of photos and genealogical history which left no one in doubt of the presence in Foxground of the redoubtable Blow family.It appears John Blow built the original home on what was to become “Lawndale”, Harry Blow on Barham's property, Captain Ernie Blow on H.G. Miller's “Nestor Farm”, Dawson Blow on “Willow Glen”, while Captain Blow's Aides-de- camp farmed on Leaney's farm. In effect, the valley floor and into the foothills of the scrub land through which the Foxground Creek wended its circuitous way southward towards the Broughton creek at Berry, was peopled by family members.The clearing of the land and the felling of the magnificent cedars started, to make way for the utilisation of the land for dairy farming purposes. To this end, a milk factory was eventually built on part of “Willow Glen” beside the road which wound its way along the Valley floor, and from which land was acquired by other settlers. Other roads would go into the hills and mountainsides to service the new selections.Following the luncheon, provided by individuals, Doug Blow again brought his loudhailer to the fore and instructed the gathered groups on the format for the remainder of the evening, introducing various speakers who presented interesting histories on the Blow family. The Mayor of Kiama was welcomed, and addressed the gathering on the part the farming industry had played in the development of the wonderful area which was now the Kiama Municipality, and the Blow family in particular.Following the speeches there was a general get-together of friends and relations and renewal of acquaintances while tales were told and memories recaptured and relived.Schoolmates recalled incidents for examination and discussion, while others pored over the memorabilia displayed, and a small section went on a walk to the home of Harry Blow, now in the possession of Barbara Mathie, to whom generous thanks were offered for allowing her property to be used for the celebration.By four o'clock the party began to disperse. Tables were folded and packed away and the assembly broke up, but not before expressions of gratitude for the event were paid to Doug Blow for the opportunity to meet old friends once more in the beautiful Foxground Valley which had claimed so much of our young lives and loves in days gone by. 

I have previously written that one of the reasons why we loved going to the Gerringong Town Hall to watch pictures was because the films were in colour. Films like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang had stunning images in Technicolor.At home on the old TV, it was very different. We had to watch a screen with black and white images. I used to watch football on a Sunday night. In my child’s mind, I thought South Sydney were two tones of gray.In the Samurai TV program, Shintaro’s helpers, like Tombei the Mist and the Iga Ninja wore light-coloured costumes. I often wondered what colour they were. Like thousands of kids everywhere, we could not, try as we might, make ‘star knives’, stick in posts and jump backwards into trees. And who could forget the Beatles’ Magical Mystery Tour. It had a lot of psychedelic colour sequences. Most notable in the song, I am the Walrus. Unfortunately for them, the film was a flop as it was shown in black and white. Mind you, we really did not care. I was an avid TV watcher. One of my other favourites was Combat, with Vic Morrow. I could never work out how the German soldiers could fire 1000 bullets and only scratch him on the arm whereas Morrow could kill 10 of them with one burst from his submachine gun. I also fondly remember Phantom Agents (we only use guns as a last resort), Gigantor, Astro Boy, Dad’s Army, Steptoe and Son, and Man about the House.Some other US shows were great such as Gomer Pyle, McHale’s Navy, Green Acres, Petticoat Junction, The Beverly Hillbillies, Gilligan's Island, The Man from Uncle and, of course, The Monkees. “Here we come, walking down the street, getting the funniest look from, everyone we meet …”My sister, Merelyn, who is seven years older, remembers with affection such shows as Shirley Temple’s Storybook, Annie Oakley, Disneyland, Mr Ed, Mr Magoo, Rocky and Bulwinkle, The Lone Ranger, The Avengers and everybody's favourite, Monty Python’s Flying Circus.The list could go on. I am sure you can think of scores of others.And who could forget that you could go to the shop to buy a packet of Scanlens Bubble Gum, throw away the gum, and collect the cards to keep or swap with your friends at school.There were many adult programs that the oldies enjoyed that I did not, like Twilight Zone. But the one I remember the most for not watching, if that makes sense, was “Alfred Hitchcock Presents”. This funny music would come on and Hitchcock would say “good eeeeeeeeeeeeeeevening”. At that moment I was ordered to bed and the rest of the family sat down to watch it. I managed to see some programs on YouTube years later.In 1975, the TV landscape changed. To be able to see your favourite show in bright living colour was brilliant. Suddenly any person producing TV programs had to think of the way it would look. I know a lot of teams in the rugby league changed their uniforms to make them brighter.Pop stars had to spruce up their costumes to make them look big and spectacular to help them get the chance to perform on Countdown with Molly Meldrum.It was not all beer and skittles to begin with. Buying a new colour TV was not exactly cheap. There were scam artists who said all you had to buy was a piece of coloured plastic and place it on the screen but, alas, this did not work. Filming in colour for those who made TV programs, films and commercials was much more expensive.Eventually, TV producers realised that if they did not change to colour then nobody would watch their programs. Viewers also eventually had to make the switch. That did not, however, mean that all black and white TVs disappeared. Second-hand ones could be quite cheap and poor uni students living in caravans could afford to have a small beat-up black and white TV which you could watch if you manipulated the rabbit ears just so by holding onto one with one hand and have the other out the window or doing some other contortion. It was better than nothing.Nowadays there are techniques where black and white film can be changed into colour.But sometimes I do miss the old days. Old black and white TV shows and movies looked quite quaint and I swear the horror films looked scarier.

As a child I can vaguely recollect my father growing corn. My sister Merelyn confirmed this by saying he grew corn at Gerroa to feed the cattle. But the growing of corn was very important for farmers many years before that. Clive Emery wrote a tale about his father growing corn at Foxground.For as long as my Dad lived, corn was his favourite crop. Never a season went by without us having acres of maize growing in our best paddocks. Hickory King was Dad's favourite grain. I never did discover how many years he had grown this variety, but every year throughout my young life that was the variety grown. Dad supported this variety because he said Kellogs used it to make Corn Flakes, so it must be the best! Rightly or wrongly, it was the favourite - that was until Cliff and I decided to try some of the new varieties coming on the market. I honestly believe it was the grain he grew as a boy, and saved the seed each year to keep it pure. He said when he went to the North Coast, an old farmer gave him some advice which he heeded well throughout his life.“Emery,” the old fellow said, “always make sure you have some corn in the barn. In bad times, my kids were crying round the table and there was nothing to eat, but the missus ground the corn and made gruel and baked to fill their little bellies! We have lived on corn for weeks on end, when there was no money to buy food!”Gerroa, many years ago.The sincerity of this declaration was so real Dad took it to heart and it may have been the trigger which energised him to carry it out. Whatever, 80 years since that remark I am still growing maize! I was sorry for Dad's sake when we changed the breed to Giant White because of its superior cropping potential over Hickory King - the cobs of which we learned first to husk as boys. There was something about family husking bees when we all sat under a hurricane lamp in our barn husking the cobs until our little heads began to nod, and Dad told us stories of his life until all we wanted to do was curl upon his lap and be buried in husks!He would pick the two of us over his strong shoulders and carry us off the bed.The hempen bags we used for collecting the corn cobs had many uses on the farm; used often for overcoats during inclement weather or for bagging the potato crop in season and in many homes used for bedding, then called a "Wagga Rug'. The peculiar thing about corn is that every animal on our farm liked it. The cows were fed corn in the stalls, the pigs in their pens, the horses in their nosebags, the dogs and old Joe the cat, and of course so many birds. Corn was a staple food for the fowl as a matter of course - ground for the chicks and cracked for their mothers. The crows, the Rosella Parrots, the White Cockatoos would raid the crop in the paddock. Dad stood a Scarecrow at the end of the paddock to frighten them away. It was so lifelike that our neighbour rode down one day to have a yarn to the fellow standing at the edge of the crop.But the birds were wiser than he thought - they moved to the other end of the paddock for their meal of corn.My mother would come to the barn some nights to help with the husking. She did not use a husking-peg like the rest of us but tore the husks off with her hands; it was good to have Mum there because she could tell stories too. She did not know much about corn until she married Dad, because the property she was raised on did not lend itself to ploughing and cropping as it was so steep. We usually retired about ten at night, when we would hang our husking pegs on a nail and carry the husks out to the paddock where the herd was waiting to chew on them. We often had wrestling bouts in the pile of husks for fun. We piled our barn lofts with cobs, to be left there to dry before being ground for the cattle.When we moved to Foxground, nothing changed. For years we went on with the husking bees, with this difference. Mother and Olive made it into a Valley night picnic and so many young folk came to help and have fun in the barn, while their mothers stayed with Mum in the house. But they were not idle - we all shook the corn hairs and dust from ourselves and enjoyed the repast our mothers had prepared. They were happy events, and many a lass was grabbed for a roll in the pile of husks before the night was over, and released in time to prevent being smothered. Graveyard at Gerringong about 70 years ago.In the dim light of the hurricane lamp nobody knew who was rolling who, nor did anyone care, and everyone was happy and joyous laughter filled the barn.It was during the husking bees I learned that cobs of corn always had even rows of grain, and Dad offered anyone 10 shillings if they could bring forth a cob with uneven rows. He found it was counter-productive for we counted the rows on each cob before tossing it into the heap and husking less cobs. No one got the money, however.Why we didn't husk the cobs in the paddock was never really explained. When I began farming on my own that is what I did - it meant less handling - but Dad always seemed to have plenty of labour.It is strange how we stick to the old routine at times until a total stranger will correctly make a suggestion. Up until then it was a matter of: 'if it was good enough for my father it is good enough for me!'Somehow, I am glad to be able to tell of the simple fun we had at our husking bees. Thinking it over, I wouldn't have missed it for the world !As Hickory King was laid aside, so has the plough and Cydesdales that pulled it. Where we used to walk nine and a half miles behind the plough to turn an acre of furrows, with the tractor we did that before breakfast. The steel machine that made it possible did not rub its head on your chest, nor nuzzle your shoulder as you exchanged winkers for nosebags, nor do you pat it on the shoulder.Strangely, mechanisation has not kept the farmer in the field, and houses are growing where once they trod! The art and science of farming is dying.

By Clive Emery Blacksmiths were such an essential part of the community more than a century ago, especially in country areas. Before tractors, cars and trucks, horses would do most of the work. Clive Emery brings to life the story of one in Gerringong, Billy Lees. Billy Lees was one of four blacksmiths we had in Gerringong, from early in 1900 to about 1950. Other names were Cockerill, Bourke and Fitzpatrick.Billy's shop was in Fern Street where the old Post Office building (now changed to commercial enterprises) was situated. I well remember turning the handle of the bellows for him while a horseshoe was being softened for shaping in the bed of coke or coal simmering in the bed of ashes. This was contained by brickwork against the northern wall of his corrugated iron premises.There was a sign painted on the outside of the southern wall of the building, which was displayed in blue lettering and read, for as long as the premises remained: “Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills.” As a boy I thought it was some remedy for ailing horses, because Billy was also a horse doctor. I knew this because he came to our farm at Crooked River once to dose one of our horses suffering from gripes. The remedy, as I remember, was a bottle of whisky. The horse was up and about within the hour!There are many things for which Billy should be remembered besides shoeing horses. The principal one was his eternal good humour. In all my life I do not remember meeting him in anything but a cheerful mood.Billy was a nugget of a man whose strong, hairy arms were never covered. He wore a short-sleeved flannel shirt open at the neck and heavy tweed trousers with a bluish tinge. He had a breaking-in yard on the boundary of the school ground where we could watch him breaking in horses for the farmers. Two sons, Tommy and Tod, would be helping on most occasions, especially if a horse was to be broken to the saddle. The Walker residence Gerringong, where the chemist is now. Photo: The Emery Family CollectionYoung Tod did this job in the circular yard. Tod was a great horseman and as a young man, worked in Neely's store, riding around the district taking orders each Monday, and delivering them in a sulky the next day. Tommy was the elder of the boys and worked on the roads mostly during his period in Gerringong. Tommy had bright blue eyes like his father and remained an excellent citizen during his lifetime in Gerringong.Billy was to be found in his pole and corrugated iron premises on most days, and the “ring” of steel as he hammered shoes into shape and mended broken machinery and plough shares for the farmers could be heard all over town. On most days, if they were “shoeing days”, the smell of burning hooves was abundant as red-hot shoes were temporarily fitted and shaped the hoof rather than the reverse, to be then cooled and refitted. He had room in the shop for three horses at a time, and most farmers waited for the job to be done, when the horse would be put back in the shafts and driven home. Everyone in town knew when it was “shoeing day”, for the mixture of coal fire and burning hooves floated before the breeze. However, shop doors were never shut as a result, for Billy was as much entitled to free trade as anyone else, and respect for him as a person and a worker would be far too strong in any case.Billy had a daughter, “Bubby”, who attended the school as her brother had done, and for a period when I was a student. She was slight of build and wore her hair shoulder length. She and Ella Donovan were neighbours as well as great mates. His wife was a great worker for the Anglican Church but otherwise was content to care for the home beside that of the Donovans.Billy's shop was a Mecca for idle men. When Tom Love retired from dairying to Fern Street he would always be found at the shop, helping Billy by turning the bellows handle if it was necessary while Billy shaped red-hot shoes and punched seven holes for the nails.Great yarns were told and retold, when Tom pushed the old wooden window out and propped it with the swinging shaft to keep it stable and sat on a block at the aperture to watch the traffic. Perhaps a cart or two or Jim Donnelley delivering a passenger to his destination with his coach and pair, or perhaps he might spot James Walker looking out his shop doorway for a sighting of an approaching customer. Billy and Tom were a great combination - they pondered, proposed and predicted between yarns and hammer blows, even while Billy was shoeing a horse with six nails in his mouth as he hammered the first one home!Now they are gone forever! The shop has gone, the smell of burning horsehair has gone, and the ring of steel on steel will never again be heard in Fern Street.The present has overtaken the past, as time goes by, taking the local smithy with it. My personal interest in Billy as a young child was because he was the first man I had ever seen with gold in his teeth clearly visible when he smiled, as he did often, and I thought him a rich man. The one thing in which he was rich was heritage, because his grandfather arrived on our shores in 1822, and his father settled in our district on a farm near the foothills of Willow Vale. Billy died in 1953, aged 72.This article is from the archives of Gerringong historian Clive Emery.

Helping out at the Gerringong Library and Museum once a month, we get many interesting people visiting. On different occasions, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting a member of the Gray family, who have a strong connection to the Kiama LGA.Their link to Gerringong district is through the Omega Retreat Estate. What was this estate?Mackay Cameron, a descendant of the first Gray to come here, gave me the opportunity to view a manuscript he had completed on his family history and was happy for me to use it to help tell the story.The Omega Retreat is a large area of land just south of the lookout at Saddleback Mountain and continues down the hill on the southern side of the highway, stopping close to what is now Werri Beach.The Gray family had lots of wonderful adventures in many different places mentioned in the manuscript but for the purpose of this article I am focusing on their time at Omega.In 1833, James Mackay Gray (usually known as just Mackay Gray) left Ireland. After a few adventures he ended up visiting Thomas Campbell, who owned that parcel of land which he called “Bark Hill”.Campbell had travelled to Australia five years earlier and he had applied for a land grant. He was offered a choice of two parcels of land and in 1829 and settled on acquiring 1280 acres (518 hectares) that stretched from Saddleback Mountain to the swamps to the south and west to the slopes of Saddleback. Mackay Gray fell in love with the place and wanted to purchase it. However, Campbell was not allowed to sell it until 1838. This suited Mackay as it gave him time to organise his affairs and arrange for his wife Sarah Anne and their five children to come from Ireland to their new home at Gerringong. One can only imagine the joy of seeing this for the first time from the top of Saddleback Mountain.As he waited, Mackay began to farm a section of the land.Considering that he thought that this land would go as far as settlement would go, he named the land Omega Retreat - Omega being the last letter in the Greek alphabet.James Mackay and Sarah Gray. Photo: The Gray Family Collection Mackay Gray had, at first, some difficulty in paying Campbell the full price for the land.Therefore, he set about clearing it so it could be used to generate an income. For this he was able to use convict labour as it was a lot cheaper. Part of this entailed the cutting down of the red cedar trees. Three of the convicts he had were Richard Bagnall, Thomas Bromley and William Brown.When Mackay found he was unable to use much convict labour anymore, he cut the land up into tenanted farms. The new tenant families had to clear their lot, then hoe and plant crop seeds by hand. Some of these were ex-convicts as “Ticket of Leave” men. On the 1841 census the names of these were George Brothers, William Burlane, John Cook, John Jordan, George Barnes, Evan Campbell and William Greenwood.Life was not always rosy on the estate. In 1842, Campbell’s original building - in which the Gray family was residing - was burnt to the ground. All their possessions went up in flames. Not to be defeated, they just started again.Around 1853, Mackay decided to expand. Firstly, he extended the estate by adding another 400 acres of property adjoining what he already had. Secondly, he built a grand home with 11 rooms. It was lined with red cedar as stately homes around Gerringong were at that time. He called it “Omega House” but the locals referred to it as “The Big House”. Unfortunately, it burnt down in 1886.He then looked at the education of the local kids. The first school was the Mount Pleasant School established in 1858 with a very “interesting” lady as teacher.He had more luck with the Omega Retreat School in 1860. That building is now a private residence halfway down the hill towards the south.Some businesses were established on the property - a tannery, a store and a pub - the Dairyman’s Arms. In 1880, a milk condensing factory and a butter factory were established, without any great success.Life was not all wonderful for Mackay and Sarah though. They lost a son and daughter. a terrible tragedy which badly affected them.In 1877, Mackay died, followed by Sarah the next year.The remaining son, Sam, inherited the farm, as was the custom in those days.A poster for the sale of the Omega Retreat Estate in 1901. Photo: The Gray Family CollectionHe died in 1889. His wife continued on until she passed away in 1900.  This marked the end of the Omega Retreat farm, as it was sold in 1901.Nowadays there are a number of dairy farms as well as a few private houses set into the hill above Werri Beach to capture the wonderful view.  Many people stop at the top of Saddleback Mountain to admire the sight. I wonder if they have as much excitement in their eyes as Sarah did when she first saw her new home all those years ago.Mackay Gray’s association with the Omega Retreat was only a fraction of the activities he was involved in. Space does not permit me the justice he deserves in the history of the Kiama LGA.