Condolence Motion: Garuda Flight 200

House of Representatives
Date: 20 March 2007
I rise today to speak in support of the condolence motion moved by the Prime Minister and seconded by the Leader of the Opposition.
Today this parliament is honouring those five Australians whose lives were tragically lost when on 7 March Garuda flight 200 crashed.
Today we demonstrate our grief. Now and forever there is a bond between Liz O’Neill, Allison Sudradjat, Brice Steele, Mark Scott and Morgan Mellish. They lost their lives together far too soon when they had too much left to live for and with grieving families and grieving friends left behind.
But even as they stepped onto that Garuda flight they had something in common: they were going to work. And even though it was work in a far-flung destination they were doing what millions of Australians do every day. They said goodbye to their families and they went to work that day not knowing that it would be the last.
Many Australians have been touched by this tragedy and touched deeply by it particularly here in Canberra. I was particularly moved by an opinion piece written by Malcolm Farr in the Daily Telegraph on 9 March where he described a speech given by Laura Tingle about Morgan Mellish and this tragedy generally. He described the nature of the effect on Canberra in the following terms.
An unusual factor of the Garuda plane crash on Wednesday was that it struck to the core of three quite small communities, groups which are separate but interrelated in Canberra.
They were the communities of journalists, diplomats and federal police.
Each one of the groups is quite tiny and close-knit. Those in them know just about all the others personally or at a narrow remove. People retire but never really leave their community.
Members of each group spend much of their time tending to the tragedies of others, telling the stories of tragedy’s victims and easing the pain of those tragedy has left behind. In this case they were the ones left behind.
Let me echo those words.
Even Australians who did not know Liz or Allison or Brice or Mark or Morgan have been touched by this tragedy as well. Many Australians know what it is like to visit Indonesia, to jump on an internal flight, to run the gauntlet of the last-minute changes to flights and to nervously joke in a very Australian way about air safety even as you sit on the flight, and then behind the very Australian jokes to really be just that little bit nervous, to pay just that little bit more attention to the air safety demonstration, to strap that seatbelt on just that little bit tighter. But even as we do those things we never really think that it is going to happen to us. Then it does happen to five Australians and we are left with the shock of unexpected death, the grief and of course the unanswerable question—why? The randomness of this tragedy really does take your breath away. If only that last-minute ticket swap had not occurred; if only that other flight had not been missed—if only. They are all questions we will never know the answers to.
My condolences go out to the relatives and friends of those who have tragically lost their lives. These are the people who have lost so much. My thoughts go to all of those who were injured in this tragedy. But may I pause, Mr Speaker, to specifically offer my best wishes to Cynthia Banham and all those close to her and she fights to survive and come back from her own ordeal. We know she used her extraordinary physical fitness to help her survive when others did not and to escape the inferno which erupted when the plane skidded to a stop in those rice paddies. I know the thoughts of many are with her and with her partner and my friend, Michael Harvey. I trust that we will see her back in the press gallery, and though we will never see Morgan again I know he will be remembered.
Julia Gillard

Goodbye Brother Lawrence

The Last Wave

Bronte 11am Saturday 24th March 2007

Paradise by the Dashboard Lights

A few days ago I arrived in Sierra Leone...

I could think of nothing else as the engine roared and wheels skidded down the runway, but of Morgan.

In fact, he has consumed my every waking hour since the horrific crash.

I first met Morgan at my birthday party in 2005.
He arrived, early with a group of friends: white press button shirt, blue jeans, blond tossled hair, sideways grin.
I still remember our conversation vividly...as I had just returned to Australia from 10 months of travelling, particularly surfing in Mexico, France and Spain, where Morgan was about to take a holiday.
Morgan and his friends were moving on to another party...he took my number "to talk about surfing in Mexico".

The next day he called to catch up.
I told him to bring his Mexico Lonely Planet and I'd give him all my travel tips...I didn't realise it was meant to be a Date!

I was in awe of this amazing man. Smart, Funny, Ambitious, Athletic and Gorgeous.
Is he real?
We forgot food, we talked endlessly about our love for travelling, surfing, the ocean, sailing, sky diving, his passion for mountain climbing, cycling, camping, business, politics, Otis...and music - one of Morgan's greatest loves.

We had very similar taste in music, I couldn't believe there was someone else out there who is aware of, and loves Velvet Underground!

Then there is Wedding Present. I still don't understand his love for this band!
His Johny Cash collection that reminded him of his car trip with 2 American Surfers, the Chilean skiing experience assisted by AC/DC, Greenday, William Shatner, and his absolute adoration for K.D. Lang's Hymns of the 49th Parallel: A Case Of You and Hallelulljah.

Morgan called me after his first Wolfmother concert, he spoke with the excitement of a small child "It ripped! I danced (jumped) so much I had to ring my shirt out of sweat!"

We would do our own screaming rendition of Meatloaf's Paradise by the Dashboard Light and collapse breathless in laughter.

Our weekends were all about surfing and newspapers. After a marathon surf, he'd devour 2 meat pies washed down with a sausage roll, and critically review every news article in print.

So many memories with Morgan:
:: Local Bronte's Robbin Hood $5 steak and Stella please... Sorry Sir, No Havanas.
:: Bronte ocean swims, back arching out of the waves, the smile of exhilaration on his face
:: Being stranded on a tube in the middle of Pittwater for hours until dark, with a beer and bottle of champagne, thanks Greg!
:: Bungers surf with Morgan and Dom
:: Bali crowds of young surfers cheering as Morgan catches tubes
:: Easily pleased with a home cooked lasagna or a pomomdoro and tuna pasta
:: We had the same Ipod gift theory: Giving your partner an Ipod would result in the immediate demise of the relationship
:: Reading my first John Pilger book!...inspired by Morgan

Morgan worked tenaciously on the Robert Gerard story.
Fearlessly and passionately he wrote story by story.
Each daily issue of the AFR was Morgan Mellish's unrelenting pounding of Robert Gerard.
One night I turned to Morgan and said "Hey, go easy on him...".
He looked at me incredulously, "But he's a crook!" We always had the Capitalist v's Crook debate.
Morgan had always been honest with me. A Foreign Correspondent posting was his aim.
When he achieved his posting to Indonesia with the AFR I was so proud and so happy for him, and deeply saddened at the same time...I would miss him.

My job was very demanding on my time and Morgan, with the 'work-play' balance perfected, my constantly beeping blackberry would be confiscated and thrown in the top draw as soon as I walked through the door.

After announcing my dramatic career change, I received an email from Morgan that said:
"Let's see if I've got this straight - you went from being a property developer to a diamond trader. What's next, lead rider in Satan's army? Or maybe you'll become a journalist. m"

I was devastated when Morgan left for Indo.

But nothing compares to the feeling of loss I now feel.

My Ipod is full of Morgan's music, I can't bare to turn it on, then I can't bare to turn it off.

We will again, one day, sing Paradise by the Dashboard Light.

Tanti bacci bello.

Belindax

Blue Steel: Otis

Woody, Paris (now deceased) and I remember Mr O well.
We moved into Jo's flat - below Morgan and Otis - when Jo swanned off to London.
The 'man-cat' never showed the old lady cat any respect. As you can see in these pics a flimsy piece of glass was all there was between Paris and Blue Steel.
As for us humans, Otis was the only cat who left a full five-claw scratch - from elbow to wrist - as his calling card.
See you Morgan, travel well.

For more stories about a cat called Otis click here.

Morgan was the cute, smart little brother

The people you grow up with are seldom forgotten. Years go by and we lose touch and move on. But the memories of our childhoods and our friends remain, often dormant until triggered into our consciousness.

My good friend lived 'just down the street'. Lucy and I were mates and I was welcomed by her family. Morgan was the cute, smart little brother who sometimes played with us and sometimes annoyed us but who was always on our side. We would swim in our pool, ride bikes, climb trees and catch cicadas. There were sleep overs in the front room of number 13, and we would giggle, play games and create havoc. Morgan & Justin once did a great version of Zanadu!

I wish that these memories had not been triggered by such a tragic event. One we will never understand. My prayers go out to Lucy, Dawn, Peter and Caroline and to all who knew and loved Morgan. Although my memories are of childhood, I will always remember Morgan with warmth and affection.

Clare Griggs

Cold Play Fix You

Could it be worse?

When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home,
And ignite your bones,
And I will try to fix you,

High up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down on your face
And I

Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down on your face
And I

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you.

When tears streak down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace.
When tears streak down your face and I
When tears streak down you face upon when I see you for my mistakes.
when tears streak down you face and i.

Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

Salutes to journo who thrived on the edge

Fairfax journalist Morgan Mellish was remembered as a "loving son, caring brother, fantastic uncle" by childhood friend Ben Hunter at a memorial service in Sydney today.

"The life of a foreign correspondent was full of excitement and adventure, and it was for Morgan," Mr Hunter said at St Andrew's Anglican Cathedral of the friend he called "Morgs".

"We will miss him as a mate, his smile and his determination to make the most of everything."

Reverend Dominic Steele, from Christians in the Media, spoke of the grief many were suffering when he spoke at the service at St Andrew's Anglican Cathedral in Sydney.

"He died doing what he loved,'' Rev Steele said of the journalist, who was covering an Australian ministerial visit to Indonesia when he was killed.

He recalled a remark Mr Mellish made to his mother when he was growing up.

"He said, `Mum, I want to live as close to the edge as I can without falling off'."

A series of photographs of Mr Mellish with family and friends was displayed on large screens as mourners entered the cathedral.

Mr Mellish's girlfriend, Nila Tanzil, sat with Mr Mellish's parents and sisters throughout the service.

Mourners included Federal Minister for Employment and Workplace Relations Joe Hockey and Deputy Opposition Leader Julia Gillard, as well as representatives of the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade, the Australian Federal Police and Fairfax.

Mr Mellish, who was The Australian Financial Review's Jakarta bureau chief, was one of five Australians killed when a Garuda Airlines plane exploded on landing at Yogyakarta airport in Indonesia on March 7.

He was cremated in a private funeral yesterday.

AAP

Wave of sadness for reporter who lived the dream

Caroline Overington
March 22, 2007

A LITTLE over a year ago, the journalist and pleasure-seeker Morgan Mellish was living in a Bronte apartment overlooking one of Sydney's most tempting surf beaches.

He liked to tell friends: "I wake up, lift myself up on one elbow and look out the window. If the surf's up, I get straight out of bed. If not, I go back to sleep."

Yesterday, in Bronte, the surf was up.

By rights, Mellish should have been chest to the board, paddling out towards shafts of pink sunlight that broke through heavy cloud.

But Mellish - the Jakarta correspondent for Fairfax's The Australian Financial Review newspaper - was killed along with 20 others in the crash of Garuda flight 200 in Yogyakarta, Indonesia, on March 7.

He was cremated at a private ceremony on Tuesday. Yesterday, there was a memorial service at St Andrew's Cathedral in central Sydney, attended by his family, surfer friends, colleagues, members of the Fairfax board, including chairman Ron Walker, and News Limited chief executive John Hartigan. It was a fortnight, almost to the minute, since Mellish - full name, Henry Morgan Saxon, or HMS Mellish - died. His funeral was the last for the five Australians who were killed in the crash, following services in the past week for federal police officers Mark Scott and Brice Steele, AusAID Indonesia chief Allison Sudradjat and foreign affairs official Liz O'Neill.

Mellish's family had hoped to bring some levity to the occasion, inviting mourners to wear Havaianas (a brand of colourful rubber thongs) with their suits. But only a few managed it; the mood was as gloomy as the sky overhead; the church was filled to overflowing; the white fans were mostly useless in the muggy heat.

Friends tried to put the emphasis on all Mellish had achieved: he was living his dream, working as a foreign correspondent in Jakarta; insisting that his glorious Indonesian girlfriend, Nila Tanzil, speak to him only in Bahasa Indonesian; surfing the globe; mountain climbing; cycling; last year winning a Walkley Award for excellence in journalism.

But how to escape the fact that he was also only 36, a sandy-haired, handsome man in extraordinary physical health, cut down in the prime of his life.

As Dominic Steele, of Christians in the Media (yes, even they joke that it's a small organisation) said: "There will be no children, no grandchildren."

An old friend, Ben Hunter, said Mellish had the "work-life balance" almost perfect.

AFR editor Glenn Burge said Mellish was hired as a cub reporter even though colleagues could tell, just from looking at all six laconic feet of him, they would have to "put a rocket up him occasionally".

Burge recalled the time Mellish took a long period of unpaid leave to surf South America. He carried with him five surfboards, all of which got lost. Exasperated, friends asked him why he needed five. He explained that different boards for different beaches were, to him, as necessary as different shoes for different terrain.

After the service yesterday, two of Mellish's surfboards were offered up to mourners to sign. Friends intend to paddle out with those boards this weekend.

The Australian

Morgan's rhythm: surfboard, laptop and smile

Neil McMahon
March 22, 2007

A GATHERING of mourners can be about many things, but is a ritual shorn of meaning if love isn't one of them. It can be grieved in gratitude or regret, but there seemed none of the latter where Morgan Mellish was concerned - he was a man well loved and who loved well; a buccaneer who romanced life. Life swooned.

It still does, even now he's gone, dead in the Garuda air crash that claimed 21 lives in Indonesia 15 days ago. At his memorial service in St Andrews Cathedral in Sydney yesterday, it was clear Mellish didn't die wondering about much. He once told his mother, Dawn: "I want to live as close to the edge as I can without falling off."

He did that, with a spirit that made it easier for grief to give way to a smile. Hundreds gathered to honour him a day after his cremation: his mother and his mates, his father, Peter, sisters Caroline and Lucy, a boy and girl who called him Uncle, his Indonesian girlfriend, Nila Tanzil, and important figures from Canberra - Joe Hockey, Julia Gillard, Mick Keelty - who called his name at press conferences.

Mellish was there, too, beaming down from giant screens - scaling a cliff, sailing a boat, swimming, always smiling. The politicians would have been hard pressed to miss him - he may have written for the dry Australian Financial Review, but the shock of hair and the smile told another story. He had a grin like a grand piano, tuned for honky-tonk and rock'n'roll. That, it seems, was how he lived his life, confident of his rhythm and keeping a sometimes frantic beat - Elvis with a surfboard and a laptop.

His editor, Glenn Burge, told that story, of the time Mellish, the AFR's man in Jakarta, turned up to cover political talks in Indonesia carrying both those things. "Morganesque moments", Burge said. He loved his work - a Walkley award tells us that - but a decent wave could mean as much. Maybe more.

A childhood friend, Simon Dale, said Mellish only had to be near a beach and he'd be smitten. "He'd see the waves and start running." When he lived in Bronte, said schoolfriend Ben Hunter, Mellish would prop himself up in bed to see if the morning was worth a proper greeting. The swell was outside, and that was the morning news the reporter tuned to first.

He was "the kind of guy who made you suck your stomach in", Burge said - athletic, a whirl of energy, smart but sometimes frustrating, because it could be hard to judge his focus. But you had to like him. "If he did have a temper, I never saw it."

That much was evident from the turnout of Mellish's colleagues yesterday, who came by foot from Fairfax headquarters and by plane from Jakarta. It's hard to get journos to cry, and perhaps harder to get them to swallow too much God. Good reporters take nothing on faith, but they had to yesterday.

This was a service heavy with prayer and religious imagery - God, like Mellish's parents, had lost his only son in his 30s, said Dominic Steele, of the group Christians in the Media. One of Mellish's sisters, Lucy Chik, chose a reading that said: "Sorrow is better than laughter, because a sad face is good for the heart."

Simon Dale spoke of what he'd lost, concluding: "I'm going to miss that smile." And there it was, larger than life on the screens above, tossing some honky-tonk and rock'n'roll among the hymns.

SMH

James aged 4

Lucy is my best friend because she is my [God]parent.
When Organ dies she crys a lot of long, long,long days.
So I pray for long, long, long days not to cry.
I draw a picture of Organ to make her happy and I
draw it green because green is my favorite.

James aged 4

Dominic Steele's address

Listen to Dominic's address at the Service of Thanksgiving for Morgan Mellish at Christians in the Media.

Order of Service

The house of mourning

It is better to go to a house of mourning

Than to a house of feasting,

For death is the destiny of every man;

The living should take this to heart.

Ecclesiastes Chapter 7:2

As of first importance

For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Peter, and then to the Twelve.

1 Corinthians Chapter 15:3-5

"Huntsman, when the alarm goes at six..."

I, like everyone, never imagined that we would be here today to remember and celebrate Morgan's life.

To Peter, Dawn, Lucy, Caroline, Kathryn and Simon, please accept, on behalf of all of his friends, our sympathy for your great loss.

Morgan was many things but chiefly he was a loving son, a caring brother and fantastic uncle. He spoke often of you, always with love and affection, especially his niece and nephew, Kathryn and Simon, who he complained of not seeing enough.

To know Morgan was to know his family. Peter and Dawn are kind, generous and welcoming. And Morgan's good relationships with Lucy and Caroline helped him with his natural confidence around women. It was obvious when around them that they were all good friends as well as siblings.

My memories of Morgan stretch back to our high school years at Shore but we became really good mates at university in Canberra in 1988. We arrived at John XXIII College at the ANU on the same day; the first day of 'O' Week not knowing that we would be doing the same subjects and living five doors down from each other. Familiar faces were few so it was with great surprise and some relief when Morgan's wide friendly grin greeted me when I wandered out the back of the college and in the direction of the loud music.

Morgs fitted very easily into college life. He was quickly involved in a number of university activities and established a wide and diverse group of friends. I don't remember him missing many, if any, gigs, balls or other significant social activity over the course of the next few years (although he might have slowed down on the social activities a couple of weeks before exam time). All the time he stayed incredibly fit; he was always running, rowing, playing rugby, swimming, climbing, surfing or cycling off somewhere.

Some of us put it off longer than others but eventually university has to end and we head into the real world. But, Morgs had a plan from first year; the first I knew of it was when he came charging in to my room at college holding raised Tim Bowden's "One Crowded Hour", the story of Neil Davis, the Australian war cameraman and correspondent. Morgs had just finished reading the book, his voice was raised and he was gesticulating wildly. The life of a foreign correspondent was full of excitement and adventure, and it was for him.

As we all know Morgan's career flourished. Morgs moved to Fairfax in the mid to late 1990's working in Sydney and Canberra. After a four month surfing, skiing and general adventure through South and Central America, Morgs really did have the travel bug and he was ready to take his career overseas. Before he did, however, Morgs picked up a Walkley for a series of articles he wrote for the AFR.

Morgs and I had a swim at Bronte a couple of days after the first of the award winning articles was published and in typical Morgan fashion, he was totally unfazed by the attention that he was getting. He seemed more interested in discussing the merits of the Wolfmother gig we had recently seen, and the upcoming Kaiser Chiefs gig at the Metro; and his proposed move to Jakarta.

As you know, Morgs showed his enthusiasm in a very special way. He was loud and animated. The level of enthusiasm is directly proportional to his vocal volume. That day was particularly loud. But, that said, It was a tough call for Morgs.

For those of you who don't know, Morgan's Sydney pad was at Bronte. When he first described it to me he said:
"Huntsman, when the alarm goes at six, I lift myself up onto one elbow and look out the window. If the surf's up, I am straight out of bed, if it's flat, I go back to sleep".

Morgan got very close to perfecting the “work / life balance” that our employers talk of. He was successful at both; his phone calls, emails and photos from Indonesia, full of humour and adventure were proof of one; and his Walkley and the award winning respect of his peers were proof of the other.

Morgan was very relaxed with himself and the choices he made. He was a great listener and conversationalist. He had a conviction in his own beliefs that enabled him to make decisions and follow paths without a fear of how others may perceive his actions. The ethical responsibility that quality journalism demands was a perfect partner for this trait.

We will miss him as a mate, the energy of his presence, his smile, and his determination to make the most of every minute.

Ben Hunter

Wednesday 21st March 2007
St Andrew's Cathedral

Henry Morgan Saxon Mellish
1970 - 2007

Thank you to all those who joined with the Mellish family in giving thanks for the life of Morgan.

Thank you also to all those who have sent flowers and cards and for the many messages of love. We hope you will continue to share your memories with us.

Thank you to DFAT, EMA and AFP for all the help you have been to our family.

Thank you especially to the Lifeguards from Bronte and Bondi Beaches for their help on Saturday.

Video footage of the Service is available at SMH and a photo gallery at The Age. Photos by Ramon A Williams can be viewed here.

Dominic Steele's address can be downloaded at Christians in the Media together with an Order of Service.

A Service of Thanksgiving

Henry Morgan Saxon

Mellish

1970 - 2007

10am, 21st March 2007

St Andrew's Cathedral
Cnr George and Bathurst Streets, Sydney

Please join with Morgan's family, friends and colleagues afterwards in Chapter House, adjacent to the Cathedral, for refreshments

No floral tributes by request
Donations in Morgan's name to
Morgan Mellish Memorial Fund will be appreciated
Envelopes and information will be provided at the Service

Wear your best Havaianas

Tribute to larrikin with lust for life

March 21, 2007 - 12:12PM

Journalist Morgan Mellish died doing what he loved, a memorial service for the Garuda plane crash victim has been told.

Friends, family and colleagues in the media today remembered The Australian Financial Review journalist, who was one of five Australians killed when a Garuda Airlines plane caught fire on landing at Yogyakarta airport in Indonesia on March 7.

The Reverend Dominic Steele, from Christians in the Media, spoke of the grief many were suffering when he spoke at the service at St Andrew's Anglican Cathedral in Sydney.

"He died doing what he loved," Mr Steele said of the journalist, who was covering an Australian ministerial visit to Indonesia when he was killed.

He recalled a comment Mr Mellish had made to his mother when he was growing up.

"He said, 'Mum, I want to live as close to the edge as I can without falling off.' ''

Earlier, in a eulogy, childhood friend Ben Hunter remembered "a loving son, caring brother, fantastic uncle".

"The life of a foreign correspondent was full of excitement and adventure, and it was for Morgan," he said of the friend he called "Morgs".

"We will miss him as a mate, his smile and his determination to make the most of everything."

A series of photographs of Mr Mellish with family and friends was displayed on large screens as mourners entered the cathedral.

Mr Mellish's girlfriend, Nila Tanzil, sat with Mr Mellish's parents and sisters throughout the service.

Federal Workplace Relations Minister Joe Hockey, Deputy Opposition Leader Julia Gillard, Federal MP Bruce Baird, Rod Smith from the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trading and Australian Federal Police Commissioner Mick Keelty also attended the service.

Several other friends were due to speak at a morning tea after the service.

Mr Mellish was also remembered in Federal Parliament yesterday as a larrikin Aussie who revelled in his work.

In a series of tributes to victims of the crash, Parliament was told Mr Mellish was living his dream of being a foreign correspondent as The Australian Financial Review's Jakarta bureau chief, and in 2006 won a Walkley Award - another of his goals.

Funerals have already been held for Australian Federal Police agents Brice Steele and Mark Scott, diplomat Liz O'Neill and AusAID's Allison Sudradjat.

AAP

Edge of Pleasure

Morgan and I have been friends for 33 years with many happy memories. Perhaps some of the strongest memories were when we went climbing together.

One of Morg's favorite climbs was called the ‘Edge of Pleasure’.
In Victoria there is a mountain called Mt Buffalo. On top of Mt Buffalo is a windy road that goes past an outcrop of rocks called The Cathedral. On the back of the Cathedral is a 60m climb called the ‘Edge of Pleasure’. The second half of the climb is a knife edge arête where you can fall off either side. Morgan lead that half. At the top we breathed in life, soaked in the view and talked of future plans. I tell this story because in some way Morgan lived on the edge of pleasure.

It’s been two weeks since Morgan died and I have been so sad. I’ve written four speeches, but they were all just words. I took out what was not important, and it all came down to “Morgs, I’m going to miss you”.

I’m going to miss the way you start running to the beach when you get close. I’m going to miss waking in the morning, camping with you. I’m going to miss your smile always daring me to do something.

Next week I’m going to get on with my life, but I’m never going to forget you.
Morgan you will always live in my heart.

Simon Dale

Wednesday 21st March 2007
St Andrew's Cathedral

Media delivers ultimatum on air travel

AUSTRALIAN media organisations Fairfax Media and News Ltd will no longer allow their journalists and photographers to cover official overseas trips by the Prime Minister or his ministers unless they can travel on the same aircraft.

Following the Garuda air disaster in Indonesia two weeks ago, Fairfax and News Ltd have sent a joint letter to John Howard, Peter Costello and Alexander Downer requesting the Government either buy bigger VIP aircraft or make other arrangements.

The letter is co-signed by David Kirk, the chief executive officer of Fairfax Media, Ron Walker, Fairfax's chairman, and John Hartigan, the chairman and chief executive officer of News Ltd.

Fairfax publishes the Herald.

"Australian journalists, and the editors to whom they report, take unacceptable risks when correspondents are forced to fly commercial aircraft to cover official trips overseas because there is insufficient space on government aircraft to accommodate them," the letter says.

"While this is of special concern in countries with inadequate air safety, there are other issues. Even in the most developed countries, reliance on commercial aircraft to follow official aircraft on tight travel schedules can make it difficult, at times impossible, to cover official events."

The letter asks the Government to approve the purchase of new aircraft in the May federal budget.

"Unfortunately, in the interim, our editors and bureau chiefs cannot send correspondents on commercial aircraft to cover official government business if insufficient seats are available on the official aircraft."

Mr Howard's office said it received the letter yesterday.

The Australians killed and injured in the Garuda crash were following Mr Downer and the Attorney-General, Philip Ruddock, to Yogyakarta for a terrorism summit.

Morgan Mellish, an Australian Financial Review journalist, died, and Cynthia Banham, the Herald's Defence and Foreign Affairs correspondent, was severely injured.

Also killed were the Federal Police officers Brice Steele and Mark Scott, diplomat Liz O'Neill and AusAID's Allison Sudradjat.

In 2002 the ageing VIP fleet was replaced with smaller planes, three Challenger planes, and two Boeing 737s which Mr Howard mostly uses.

The 737 is ill-suited to international travel and once it was fitted out for VIP use, there were only enough seats for Mr Howard and the staff and security detail that travel with him.

Journalists are forced to find their own way and sometimes staffers are pushed onto commercial flights as well.

Ministers tend to use the smaller Challenger aircraft, which Mr Downer and Mr Ruddock used in Indonesia.

The 12-year leases on the fleet do not expire until August 2014.

"As the highest ranking officer here ..."

We are here today in disbelief of the loss in our lives from Morgan's passing.
Given the opportunity to say some words today its impossible not to think of the gain we will always carry with us from being part of Morgan's life.

I've known Morgan for almost 30 years and we have done so many great things together.
We have travelled around the world and enjoyed our own back yard of Sydney.

I'll always hold all my memories of Morgan dearly but I wanted to recount one of my favourites which encapsulates his personality and some early days of adventure.

In the early years of high school Morgan thought it would be a good idea for us to obtain officer ranking in the Shore cadets.
This was not to be taken lightly as it involved giving up the most precious time of school holidays .. and in winter. Ready to show the school our lust for adventure and our obvious proficiency in bushcraft we ventured off.
It was at the end of day one that it all went horribly wrong.... by the end of the week long horror trip, I had been ranked last and Morgan second last.
The irony in all of this is the fact that since high school the two of us have done countless adventures across the world and its unlikely we would in the real world be ranked so poorly.
Despite the failings of the course Morgan was given the lofty rank of Lance Corporal.
I remained Private Balnaves...
20 years later we were all at a bucks weekend in the company of a young man who had just joined the real Australian army.
Morgan took great delight in reminding us all that he was the highest ranking officer present.
"As the highest ranking officer here...I ORDER you to bring me a beer".
Morgs loved this kind of humour and like a terrier he would never let go, to Morgs the joke only got funnier the more you said it...he'd only stop once his life was in danger and even then sometime during the night he yelled it out running through the room....this is how Morgan lived his whole life.
He had a brilliant sense of humour and loved a good joke, his wit was razor sharp.
He got an incredible amount out of life.

Morgan was a very complex person. His personal life and professional life always sought the best.
He was never satisfied with the mundane and was extremely driven.
He was a great listener and very often put a perspective on things easily overlooked.

I am so proud to know Morgan.
He is nothing short of a wonderful friend.
I loved his spirit, passion and mateship .

You will never be forgotten Morgs...We love you dearly.

Justin Balnaves

Tuesday 20/3/07
Nothern Suburbs Crematorium

Wikipedia

There is a Wikipedia article on Morgan!!!

Fraggle Rock

Dance your cares away,

Worries for another day.
Let the music play,
Down at Fraggle Rock.

Work you cares away,
Dancing's for another day.
Let the Fraggles play,
We're Gobo, Mokey, Wembley, Boober, Red.

Woweeee!

"Ooooh a Fwaggle! Look Ma! I caught a Fwaggle"

Ma: "Ahhhhhhh!"

"Wahhhhhhhhhhh! Woopee!"

Dance your cares away,
Worry's for another day.
Let the music play,
Down at Fraggle Rock.
Down at Fraggle Rock.
Down at Fraggle Rock.

H.R. Pufnstuff

H.R. Pufnstuff,
Who's your friend when things get rough?
H.R. Pufnstuff
Can't do a little cause he can't do enough.

Once upon a summertime
Just a dream from yesterday
A boy and his magic golden flute
Heard a boat from off the bay
"Come and play with me, Jimmy
Come and play with me.
And I will take you on a trip
Far across the sea."

But the boat belonged to a kooky old witch
Who had in mind the flute to snitch
From her broom broom in the sky
She watched her plans materialize
She waved her wand
The beautiful boat was gone
The skies grew dark
The sea grew rough
And the boat sailed on and on and on and on and on and on.

But Pufnstuff was watching too
And knew exactly what to do
He saw the witch's boat attack
And as the boy was fighting back
He called his rescue racer crew
As often they'd rehearsed
And off to save the boy they flew
But who would get there first?

But now the boy had washed ashore
Puf arrived to save the day
Which made the witch so mad and sore
She shook her first and screamed away.

H.R. Pufnstuff,
Who's your friend when things get rough?
H.R. Pufnstuff
Can't do a little cause he can't do enough.

H.R. Pufnstuff,
Who's your friend when things get rough?
H.R. Pufnstuff
Can't do a little cause he can't do enough.

Paul and Morgan

Boris at Point Perpendicular

Morgan and Simon

Grampians

Red Shorts: Grampians

Sydney Jan 06

I was back in Sydney with my fiancee Jane (right).
I was trying really hard to set him up with this very good friend of mine, Deutchie from Melbourne.
He looks a bit uncomfortable if you ask me... =)
Unfortunately he bailed out but she thought he was a cutie.
Dev ;)

The consumate chameleon

Morgs with my dad Larry Smith (right) and one of his best mates Michael William QC at my engagement party at Fairy Bower in Manly.
I love this shot because he looks so freeking handsome - and instead of hanging out with all our Uni mates he made the effort to spend time with the older generation to stir an interesting conversation and learn something new.
He is the consumate chameleon able to fit into any situation...
Dev

Frenchman’s Cap

Frenchman’s Cap is a 400 vertical cliff face in the Franklin-Gordon Wild Rivers National Park in north west Tasmania. Frenchman’s is the biggest vertical cliff in Australia. The easiest way in is a difficult two day hike from the Lyell highway including steep terrain and thigh deep struggle through mud of the Loddon Plains.

Between 1992 and 1998 Morgan and I hooked up each Christmas break for a climbing adventure somewhere in Australia.

We couldn’t ignore the call of Frenchman’s, it was what climbing represented for us, alone in the wilderness going places you could only dream of. Our whole trip was planned around doing one particular 380 metre route straight up the middle. I pointed out to Morgan that, even if nothing goes wrong, it will take 13 hours to climb at our rate of climbing which would mean we would finish in the dark. His theory was that we should climb light and fast and plan for survival not comfort if we were benighted on the climb.

Even getting there posed its own challenges, carrying a pack laden with climbing gear and food and camping supplies for 10 days our pack was so heavy we had to get into it while it was still on the ground.

I met Morgan at Hobart airport Sunday morning; he had come from the Sydney to Hobart yacht race.

I was in charge of organizing the food, weeks of meticulous planning and counting out every nut and rice grain to save weight. The first thing Morgan said to me when he saw the food was that there was not enough. When I went though the calculations with him he laughed and went down to the nearest shop and doubled our rations.

Somehow on the walk in we ran out of water, and we both got very dehydrated. We came across a stagnate pool of water full of what looked like possum poo. We were so thirsty we drank from it anyway, and figured we would deal with the consequences later.

Base camp for the climbing was a beautiful place, Lake Tahune. It comprised of an alpine lake, a hut and a small flat outdoor area about the size of a typical back yard. The rest was all steep mountain terrain and spectacular views of the valley below. When we were not climbing there was not much else to do here but enjoy each others quiet company.

For the first couple of days we had the hut to ourselves. There was a log book in the hut which gave us hours of entertaining reading. The last entry was some climbers who got in trouble and ran out of daylight. Their story tells us how they had to abseil 300 meters in the dark to get themselves off. Abseiling off a cliff like this is a scary proposition requiring you to leave behind a lot of climbing gear. You can only abseil 50 meters at a time and you have to decide whether you leave behind one, two or three pieces of gear for safety. Each 50 meters of abseiling you might be leaving behind several hundred of dollars of gear, but the real worry is that you don’t run out of gear before you reach the ground.

Climbing with Morgan was a really beautiful experience. He was a committed climber who never got scared (at least didn’t show it) and as things got tougher so did he. He was meticulous yet efficient, adventurous yet safe, and would step up when called for. He saw every climb as a new experience, a way to learn about himself and improve his skills. He climbed because it was there.

It was the second day at the hut before the weather was suitable for climbing. The night before we had discussed what climb we were going to do. The climb we really wanted to do was harder and longer then the others. I was in favour of doing an easier warm up climb. But Morgs’ logic was that we had come to do a particular climb and that if we get a break in the weather we should just do it because we might not get another chance. I’ve learnt long ago that arguing with Morgan is futile.

We got up early in the morning, the weather looked good and an hour later we were at the base of the climb. I cautiously lead the first pitch (each pitch is about 30 meters and takes about an hour by the time both of you are finished). We were swapping leads weaving our way up the cliff. Occasionally we came across massive loose boulders which would sway outwards when you pulled on them. At the top of each pitch we would look at the gear left behind in the rock by the guys abseiling off a few weeks earlier. We took some time to discuss what we would do if we had to abseil off.

Morgan hit the first really hard pitch about 250 meters up – a steep corner which was seeping water down both faces. Gear was hard to place and the climbing was very strenuous and slippery. If we hit this pitch on the ground we would have never started, but up here the choice is not as clear because getting off the climb can be equally confronting. Morgan lead the pitch unwaveringly. It wasn’t until I came up behind him did I realise how difficult and scary it was. At the top of the pitch we both breathed in life and took in the view. For us, this was what climbing was all about.

Looking up, it was not obvious which way to go. We choose to go straight up despite being steep with some small overhangs. Halfway through the pitch I got into a little bit of difficulty climbing through a steep bit – my forearms lost all strength and I peeled off the cliff. I ended up dangling above 250 meters of nothingness and watching my sun glasses spiral down through the air and eventually out of sight. Looking up I saw one of the two ropes had been badly damaged on the edge of a rock. I struggle back onto the cliff and eventually get past the area I fell. Morgan follows and falls in the same spot as I did. Because the cliff is slightly overhanging in this area he is too far out to reach the cliff.

Morgan remembers his climbing course training from some years back, ties two prussic knots and climbs up the rope, all the while there is hundreds of meters of nothingness below him. At this point we were running about 2 hours behind schedule, twilight had already started and we were not sure if we were still on the right climb. Neither of us wanted to be stuck on the cliff at night, and we certainly didn’t want to follow the other guys on their horror abseil experience.

Both of us were hyped from the last two hours of climbing, we look at each other and say lets go for it. We had never climbed 150 meters so quickly but ended up finishing the climb just after dark. The funny thing is that the highest point on the mountain was only 50 meters away up a gentle slope, but we never made those last couple of steps. We found the descent route and made our way back to camp.

Over the 8 days we were there we attempted 4 routes, and finished 3 of them. Some bad weather came through on our last climb and we had to do our own version of a horror abseil.

On the days we were not climbing we just hung around the cabin, went for a swim in the lake and sat and talked for hours. We talked about life, girl friends past and present, future plans and new adventures to be had.

By the time we walked out we had finished every last scrap of food and done some of the most remarkable climbing of our lives.

Morgan it was an absolute honour and privilege to have experienced these days with you…

Simon Dale (your long term friend)

John XXIII

Fearless and intelligent advocate for the truth

Oh behalf of the Media Alliance and its members I extend my deepest sympathies to Morgan's family, colleagues and friends.
As an accomplished and celebrated journalist, Morgan was an inspiration and joy to his colleagues.
He was a fearless and intelligent advocate for the truth, and the epitome of what many of his colleagues strive for: professional excellence and great personal integrity.
He was recognised by his peers in 2006 with the Walkley Award for Excellence in Journalism, and a tribute to his work can be viewed at

He was my friend, my mentor and a rarity in this world

My heart goes out to everyone that knew Morgan, epecially his family whom he always spoke so highly of, though you'll have to forgive me that it's a little broken.
I met Morgan in Jakarta, May last year, when he agreed to help me with an assignment on foreign correspondents that I was doing for my masters degree.
When he walked in the room I thought "Great, typical Sydney boy, here we go".
Somehow, in a way that only Morgan is capable of, he turned our twenty minute interview into a four hour chat about everything from a cat named Otis to ten reasons why I have to go to South America.
He was my friend, my mentor and a rarity in this world.
Please keep sharing your stories and photos.
Kat Farrell

Ability to break the really big stories without even raising a sweat

Morgan, I like, other journalists, was always following your footsteps whether it was down to Canberra or covering State politics or just following up on another story that you broke.
We envied your ability to break the really big stories without even raising a sweat.
About the only thing I wasn't going to follow was your musical taste.
I remember vividly you showing me proudly your new Ipod on a coach trip down to Canberra to cover the budget.
It only had one type of music on it - Hard Rock.
When I suggested something from left field you looked at me with a mystified look,as if to say: "Why would I want to listen to anything else but rock ?"
You followed that up some month later by regaling me about the hard night you'd had seeing a gig by Velvet Revolver - "That was the most awesome gig I have ever seen.
"I'll miss your sense of enthusiasm and your ability to remind us that there was more to life than just work.
Cheers
Marcus Priest
Australian Financial Review

This guy is too good to be true

I got to know Morgan when I was at the Fin and he was at the SMH.
We later worked together in the Canberra bureau of the Fin. On first encountering Morgs in Sydney, I thought `this guy is too good to be true: good looking, athletic, laid back, and a skilled reporter.'
Turns out it was.
He was all those things, and generous towards other people too.
I remember him once describing how he got his job at the SMH. He was working in the trade press and was sending out applications far and wide, as you do.
Of all the letters sent there were only two expressions of interest, from the Fin and SMH.
I'm pretty sure they both offered him a job.
Telling the story he would laugh about his luck at scoring a gig at the place he wanted to work the most and being rejected by the rest.
I got the sense that behind his relaxed approach there was a strong sense of propiety. When he was working in Canberra he was dating Julia Baird, daught of the Liberal MP. The link could have given Morgan a great conversational starting point with the many Liberal politicians we'ld socialise with and lift his own profile. But Morgan refused to the drop the name, and was obviously determined to keep the family connection private. It was clear he didn't want us fellow reporters revealing it either.
He never said why, but I believe it reflected his deep personal integrity.
Mate, you're a lovely man and it was privilege knowing you.
Aaron Patrick
The Wall Street Journal

I love my feet

It is hard not to use the old cliche's to describe devastating loss of Morgan, ( or Henry Saxon Morgan Mellish the 3rd as we loved to call him, or just Morgs!), as he was one of those guys who you loved 5 minutes after meeting.
I was priviledged to meet Morgan at ANU and I want to share a story which has always summed up the free spirit that he was.
Whilst sitting together on the steps of his rented house in Scrivener Street, Lyneham, taking a break from studying for Eco III final exams, looking at our bare feet, I turned to Morgan and said, "Don't you think feet are the ugliest part of the human body?"
Morgan replied. ' NO, I love my feet, without my feet I could not go walking , go surfing, go anywhere! I love my feet!', and so he did.
They took him often out into the ocean to catch that ultimate wave, to the pub to have a beer or three, or to an off shore world to catch the ultimate story.
He was a magical man, a true gentleman, and a larikan, completely comfortable in all company and to so many a true friend.
He will be sorely missed and his web is so wide, but for me, I am just glad that I was touched by the Morgan brush.
My sympathy especially goes to all his family who must be shattered.
My heart bleeds for you and I will keep you in my prayers.
Katie Hudson
ANU and John XXIII friend

Always and forever a star

Morgan:

The most memorable 13yr old Fairy Transvestite...

Always and forever a star.

Hugs to Dawn, Lucy and Caroline xxxxxx

Jenni

"I don't want to be another brick in the wall"

I can't believe it.
I have started typing, stopped and erased at least a dozen times ... it is very hard to know what to write.
I went to school and university with Morgs and counted him as one of my close friends.
Two quick stories:
When in 1st year university, he wrote in thick black texta on a brick in my college room "I don't want to be another brick in the wall". He wasn't.
When I explained to him that the bridal registry for my upcoming wedding was full of non-fun items like bedsheets and platters he decided not to follow the well trodden path and (I must say, very kindly) gifted us two dozen golf balls.
Morg's death leaves a huge hole.
My thoughts and love go to all of the Mellish family.
Huntsman

RMs plonked on the desk divider

Morgan,
I’ll always think of you with your RMs plonked on the desk divider between us at the SMH, regaling the business desk with a yarn and a big smile.
You were confidant but also self-deprecating, even when you told us the story behind HMS Mellish.
You were a top journalist, respected by your peers.
You wore your heart on your sleeve; you were passionate about Valiants, sailing, surfing and living life to the full.
You spoke always of your family and you were clearly very close to them, and that was also evident by your efforts to spend weekends with them.
You always made time for people – even when you were at your busiest. There have been phone calls going from Sydney to New York to London to Bangkok in the past 48 hours as colleagues and friends share their love and memories of you.
You’ll be missed incredibly.
Anne

He secretly took my breath away!

I am devastated by the news.

I have such fond memories of growing up with the Mellish Family.

I can't remember where we were but I remember catching frogs with Lucy, Morgan and Caroline at one of the many camping sites our parents took us to.

I also remember when Morgan took me to his formal.

Having been a family friend for years I was not prepared for the good looking man in the Monkey suit - he secretly took my breath away!

My thoughts and prayes are with you Dawn, Peter, Lucy and Caroline as are those of my family. Morgans death is a tragic loss and defies logic but his memory will live on in us all.

Katya Noble (nee Rowledge)

A friend and someone to admire

Morgan was a friend and someone to admire.
How can anyone be so relaxed, at least on the outside.
Only affairs of the heart seemed to phase him.
My favourite Morgan story doesn't involve surfing or sailing.
One night at the SMH, he and I decided to duck out for a beer. We figured we could be back within an hour unnoticed, with the added benefit of not being forced to trawl wire services for one line briefs.
Our communication was via a mail system on our desktops, and off we went for a beer.
I'm sure it was his turn to shout when one of our colleagues appeared suggesting we head back to the office.
A big story had broken and Morgan had to write it. The editor knew where we were because Morgan had failed to delete our messages.
Instead he'd left them flashing on his screen for everyone to see.
I returned, panicking.
Morgan sauntered in, suggested everyone just settle down and in about 45 minutes wrote the lead story to the section.
I spoke to Morgan twice on Tuesday.
He wasn't that fussed about chasing politicians around, but he was really enjoying his job. He loved Indonesia, his friends and his life.
Now, two-and-a-half days after his death, I am going to allow myself to think about him.
I know I'll have a very sad weekend.
Sean Aylmer

Mick Ticehurst

Although I never met Morgan, after reading so much about him in the past week, he was one person that I would dearly loved to have had a beer with and compared notes.
What a talent. I could have learned a lot . . . and may be shared a few laughs.
My condolences and best wishes to his family.
Mick Ticehurst, Editor
Blue Mountains Gazette

Touched by tragedy

Walkley Award winning journalist Morgan Mellish was an uncle beaming with pride after hearing about Kathryn and Simon Chik's achievements with Springwood Swimming Club.

Only recently Morgan posed for a family photo holding the coveted Walkley in one hand, and a Blue Mountains Gazette article reporting on his niece's achievements at this year's Central Tablelands Carnivals in the other.

Tragically, Morgan will not be there to congratulate his niece and nephew on their future swimming wins.

He was one of 21 people killed after a Garuda Boeing 737-400 crashed in Indonesia last week.

Morgan was on his way to cover Foreign Affairs Minister Alexander Downer's trip to Indonesia for the Financial Review.

He won the Walkley Award for his series on tax evasion stories that rocked the Howard Government.

He had also been acknowledged for stories he produced on Rodney Adler and Ray Williams' part in the collapse of giant Australian company HIH.

Morgan is survived by his parents, Dawn and Peter, his sisters, Lucy (of Faulconbridge) and Caroline, his niece Kathryn and nephew Simon and his partner Nila Tanzil.

Morgan's funeral service will be held at St Andrew's Cathedral, corner George and Bathurst Streets, Sydney at 10am, Wednesday, March 21.

Blue Mountains Gazette

The way he made the bad guys squirm

Cherelle Murphy said...

When watching “All the President’s Men” a couple of years ago I was struck by how much Morgan reminded me of a young Robert Redford, who played journalist pin-up boy, Bob Woodward. That was just after Morgan left the Canberra bureau of the AFR and returned to Sydney. It was just before he won his Walkley award for the story that exposed the nasty financial affairs of Robert Gerard. Perhaps my association was a sign of the high regard I held Morgan as a journalist, perhaps it was the way he was the kind of guy that made you suck your stomach in!

I missed Morgan when he want back to Sydney even though his departure left open the economics correspondents’ role that I coveted. In the bureau he made us laugh when he didn’t even mean to. Once he, “the economics correspondent” asked me what net exports were. I’m not sure even now whether he was pulling my leg! Another time he made me choke on my coffee when he stood up at his desk and asked if anyone had a map of Tasmania? The mischievous grin on his face when he realised what he said was memorable.

I will miss Morgan's hilarious slips of the tongue, his mischievous grins and the way he made the bad guys squirm. But from my own experience of Morgan and from reading the fascinating insights on this website, I realise Morgan brought more smiles to the good and more headaches to the bad than anyone I know.

Dawn, Caroline, Lucy and Peter, I am sorry for your loss.

Cherelle Murphy

Blue Steel

On the way to the beach