A wonderful exhibition just opened at GLaM about the Scout and Guide movement in Gerringong, by the Gerringong and District Historical Society. I wanted to take the liberty to share with you some wonderful memories I have of being a Scout. The Bugle would love to hear some of yours, too.  

When my father passed away, I went to his funeral, where I met Bob Daniel. I took the opportunity to tell him that he was the facilitator of the most enjoyable moments of my childhood. I thanked him because he was willing to step up and serve the community as a scoutmaster.  

Bob Rogers

I want to begin by telling a tale of a time before I became a Scout. 

There was a man named Bob Rogers. He lived in a house directly opposite the entrance to the caravan park at Gerroa on the northern side of the bridge. Rogers was the Scoutmaster of the 1st Gerringong Scout Troop when my brother was a scout, nine years before I joined. 

The story goes, Skip Rogers had just lost a large number of Scouts, being too old. 

He had a small cell of experienced Scouts left and a significant number of new boys, including my brother David who had recently joined.

In those days, all the scout troops from the Kiama district would get together in one place on a particular weekend and participate in a competition camp. Scout troops would be tested on things such as tent erection, cooking, cleanliness and campfires; and allocated points. The winning troop would have the honour of representing the district at the Mt. Keira Scout Camp for the H.R.Lee Shield, which covered all of the South Coast and Tablelands.

Despite these difficulties, Skip Rogers whipped the 1st Gerringong boys into shape and they won both the District title and the H.R.Lee Shield. In addition, this 1st Gerringong produced no fewer than eight Queen’s Scouts in two years. 

Bob Rogers’ name needs to have a place of honour on the list of people who have given sterling service to the community of Gerringong. 

‘Skip’

As for my own personal experience. I don't particularly remember much from my Cub years except for the uniform. The shirt was some woollen thing, which had threads sticking out that stuck in your skin as you walked. It was a horrible, itchy thing to wear in summer.

My memories of the scouts are different though. From now on, I’ll refer to Bob Daniel as ‘Skip’ since that's what we always called him.

I particularly remember the shows that we put on. When we went to camp and had a campfire show with little skits and songs, one of them being David Jones. The idea was that an ‘ordinary person’ was standing in the street. Somebody came on and that OP remarked, “where did you get those great shoes, or shirt, or pants?” or some other piece of clothing from a procession of people walking past. Every person answered, “Why? From David Jones.” 

Lastly, a person came on wearing just a towel. The OP asked: “What did you get from Davd Jones?” to which the reply was,’’I am David Jones.” I remember Glenn Miller volunteered to be David Jones. From memory, he regretted that decision!

Another great moment was a play that Skip did not write (I think) but retyped the original for the 1st Gerringong Boy Scouts. It was called the Frontier Mortician. One of the funniest, most ridiculous plays I have ever heard. Ah, but it was fun. I used it extensively in my teaching career as well as other songs and skits from campfires.

The wonderful trips

The next wonderful memory is the ventures we went on. Skip would organise for us to pile in a van and travel all over NSW, staying in various Scout halls. 

I remember the trip to the snow in circa 1972, particularly well. I had never seen snow and I don’t think anybody else had either. We had just ordinary shoes and wanted to make them waterproof so we sprayed them with this stuff that was supposed to keep them dry. Needless to say, it did not work. But we had fun with wet shoes and pants, using garbage bags to toboggan down the slopes.

For another trip, we camped beside a river. We had to drive across a small creek to get there. Big mistake. It poured and poured. We slept in about five centimetres of water and had to pull Skip’s car across a flooded creek to get home. 

Campfires

In fact, the camps were all special in their own way. The smell of a campfire, the taste of burnt damper with sticky golden syrup and toast cooked on the end of a stick over the open flame of a fire. Sometimes, we had to go on our own for a first or second class journey and keep a record of our trip for assessment to pass the badge. Even the work camps at Mt. Keira Scout Camp, where we would camp out and be expected to clean up the camp, was fun. 

Occasionally, we would have a Court of Honor, which was a meeting at a Scout’s house where we would discuss important matters pertaining to the running of the Scout troop.

I remember the games that we used to play in the Scout Hall, and ‘British Bulldog’ is one that comes to mind. Often, we would go home with bloody, skinned knees from the battles that were fought. Such games would be banned now. 



Getting ready for a snow trip circa 1972.