Mr Dwyer occupied the same position with Orange City Council from 1993 to 2005, and while there’s no evidence of improper use of credit cards or funds during his tenure in the role, his 12 years as the city’s top council official weren’t without controversy.

This piece was first published on February 10, 2005, days after Mr Dwyer resigned his post as general manager …

A few days before Christmas, Orange City councillor Jeremy Buckingham’s short-lived but enterprising political career appeared doomed. An image of absolute defeat, Buckingham’s photograph appeared in the newspaper, his head buried in his hands, reflecting his lonely state. The same page featured a picture of his fiery adversary, the council's long-serving general manager, Allen Dwyer.

The contrast could not have been greater. Dwyer, beaming in the aftermath of the moment, was soaking up the victory.

Buckingham, the first and only Green to win a political position west of the Great Dividing Range, trudged from the council chambers that morning, cut down by a 12-1 censure motion over his questioning of a development on a sensitive wetlands area.

Now, however, after Dwyer’s shock resignation on Friday - bringing an abrupt end to a meritorious career - Buckingham’s prospects are again soaring.

The reversal in fortunes could not be more poignant. Ending a 12-year reign as Orange’s top council official, Dwyer resigned apparently to put an end to the brawling. But rather than capping the disquiet, Dwyer’s exit has reignited community agitation over governance standards - shining an uncomfortable light on the region’s extraordinary development boom in the past decade.

With rumours swirling and tongues wagging, the Minister for Local Government, Tony Kelly, who belatedly ordered an inquiry into the council’s shambles - and then quickly killed it off in the wake of Dwyer’s departure - is under pressure to reopen his investigations. Those overtures for an inquiry are being strongly resisted, at least in some quarters.

“I don’t think there is any need for an inquiry,” says Councillor John Miller, the city’s former mayor, a good friend of Dwyer, and a casualty of the poll last March which saw four new councillors, including Buckingham, voted in.

“All that has happened, I believe, is that a political campaign, led by sections of the media, has destroyed a 42-year career in local government. We should be celebrating Allen Dwyer’s time in local government.”

Before last year’s election, the political scene in Central Western NSW - a region overwhelmed by the “tree change” phenomenon, a staggeringly upbeat economy and a clutch of new housing estates - was dominated by talk of a possible amalgamation of parts of three neighbouring councils: Orange, taking in the city, Cabonne, a larger, but lesser-populated patch, and Blayney, which includes the Cadia and Ridgeway gold and copper mines - extremely good ratepayers.

The then Orange mayor, Miller, who a year earlier had taken the chains from a local solicitor, Richard Niven, wanted the merger. The then Blayney mayor, John Davis, wanted nothing of it. In the end, despite the Carr Government’s urgings for super-councils to be formed in the bush, the efforts stalled.

But the acrimony generated by the debate, an often unseemly spectacle, refused to abate - and this set the scene for a stinging electoral contest 11 months ago. Two other hotly contested topics added to the spice: the granting of permission to the Kinross-Wolaroi private school to stage rowing competitions on the Spring Creek reservoir and the victory by Woolworths in the Land and Environment Court to replace a number of century-old buildings with a service station.

To add to the intrigue, Davis decided to switch electorates and stood for office in Orange, along with new candidates from other walks of life. It threatened the end of a decades-old hegemony.

Days before the election, Dwyer, a general manager perhaps sensing the rising tide of change, held two staff meetings, addressing his 400 workers on the importance of their vote. On Dwyer’s watch, the council’s financial position had improved considerably, unemployment had fallen below 5 per cent, and Orange had become one of the fastest-growing regions in Australia. But with a new broom of candidates agitating for office, Dwyer started thinking about future relations.

“I would ask you to think carefully before you vote,” he told one of the staff gatherings, according to the transcript of a tape. “We've got a stable council at the moment. With this new system, there’s a real danger that we could end up with a lot of different councillors ... I ask you to think carefully about the candidates that have looked after you, and the candidates who want to cause a major uproar and ruckus in the camp. So I’m certainly not telling you how to vote ... but I ask you to think carefully about the candidates.” It was, at the very least, an extraordinary intervention.

But while there were plenty of whispers about the meetings, and what had been uttered, the broader community had little knowledge of them and Dwyer’s declaration. And despite the “real danger” Dwyer alluded to in having new councillors with new ambitions, that’s exactly what happened.

Davis scored a landslide in votes, as did those candidates mimicking his platform for a change in the way the council did its business. Eventually, he stole the precious mayoralty from his arch rival, and strong Dwyer ally, Miller - forging an odd alliance, including Buckingham, to win the role.

So the new, more vigorous, council – nonetheless with a stubborn rump of old elected representatives – took up the agenda. It didn’t take long for the “major uproar and ruckus” Dwyer had feared.

Buckingham, a stonemason by trade and looking to stamp his environmental credentials, took on Dwyer over two big developments on community land, the Ploughmans Valley wetlands. He argued that under local government rules, a proper management plan needed to be in place before any building work was approved on such land. The approval of the work, he went on, potentially exposed the council to legal action.

Over some months, Dwyer carefully responded to Buckingham’s repeated concerns. But, as Buckingham said yesterday: “It just felt like obfuscation, and in the end, I’d had enough. I went to the media.”

Calling in the newspaper for Dwyer to consider his position, Buckingham tested his support, and the community’s resolve. It backfired, for a time.

Miller, Dwyer’s avowed ally, put forward a motion for an extraordinary general meeting, to censure Buckingham for his actions and to support Dwyer and his staff for their efforts. It was carried, 12-1. Councillors benefitted before the vote from a report written by Dwyer. Eyebrows were not even raised by the fact the man at the centre of the censure motion was deeply involved in preparing advice.

The censure motion was passed, with an apparently easy victory dealt to Dwyer and his supporters.

But over the January holidays, the mood changed again. About two weeks ago, Dwyer began talking privately about the possibility of exploring other job opportunities, and approached the mayor, Davis, to negotiate a settlement. With three years to run on his contract, sources say Dwyer stood to get up to $800,000 plus entitlements.

Last Thursday, however, Prime Television aired the contents of the now-infamous chat Dwyer had with council staff. Within 24 hours, Dwyer resigned, taking only his entitlements and leaving in a hurry.

In his only statement on the matter, Dwyer declared there had been “allegations of corruption in regard to developments. They're coming from mischievous sources, something you really can't contend with”.

Davis, the now-besieged mayor, said he would welcome an inquiry to clear the air. The Carr Government is responding to the clamour with a plea that anyone with evidence of malpractice should go to the Independent Commission Against Corruption.