1971 On December 26, Galliano Melocco died in Hornsby Hospital. His funeral, like his brother’s ten years earlier, filled St Mary’s Cathedral. He was buried at Rouse Hill on the way to the property at North Richmond which he loved. With his brothers, he built an empire in cement and stone but he never lost his affection for the simple rural life of his childhood. Galli spent some of his happiest hours sitting beneath the grape vine at Richmond, carving slices of Friuli cheese and green apples, looking out across acres of lucerne to the orange grove, enjoying the conversation (though he was a far from effusive man) of family and friends.

“My father was a good man. His personal motto was honesty and integrity above all else. As a father, he was kind and gentle but always firm about what was right and wrong. In 1956, just prior to my trip overseas, my father called me into the living room and said, “Ann, Italians are a proud race of people and we Meloccos are a proud family — especially proud of our womenfolk. You are about to embark on a wonderful trip but, while you are overseas, I want you to remember, at all times, who you are.” — Ann Melocco Trenoweth

“My father was an incredibly fair man. He was a kind man and a generous man, but you couldn’t put anything over him. He dug his heels in if he thought someone was taking advantage of him. He adored his family. He was motivated by the knowledge that he was building something for the benefit of the family.” — Graham Melocco