The Collection

WOOLLOOMOOLOO’S SURPRISING AND COLOURFUL HISTORY

It will come as a surprise to many readers that Woolloomooloo was once the most desirable suburb in Sydney. Forget Double Bay, Ashfield, Elizabeth Bay, and don’t even think about the north shore, for in the first half of the nineteenth century if you didn’t live in the ‘Loo, you were living in the dump. Woolloomooloo was the home of judges, merchant leaders, politicians and the rest of the hoi polloi. By all accounts it was quite a beautiful setting, close to a wonderful bay, in walking distance to the heart of the colony, and a mere stone’s throw to Government House. It was also a safe distance from the rowdy soldiers at Paddington and the even rowdier sailors in the Rocks. Grand houses were built, many with spectacular gardens, and, if one were inclined, it was considered relatively safe to engage in one of the popular sports of the day, pedestrianism. There were market gardens and, on the harbour shore of the Woolloomooloo bay, fresh fish were displayed and sold. In those days the bay offered sandy beaches and, sadly, unlike today, the fish were edible. Things changed in the second half of the century as better roads, if you could call them roads, better communication systems, and later gas and water supplies, encouraged people to move further out.

The city centre was fairly stinky in those days with brickworks, tanneries and either dust or mud creating general havoc. No doubt there was also a desire to get away from some of the more unsavoury locals, especially the city larrikins and their donahs. As homeowners moved out small factories moved in to take advantage of the suburb’s close proximity to the city centre and the surrounding seaports. The ports were crucial to the delivery of coal to fire up the mighty steam engines of that era. Labour was also important and alongside the factories came modest worker dwellings.

Woolloomooloo changed again near the end of the nineteenth century as the bulk of Australia’s population packed their ports and took up residence in the cities. Around the time of Federation, in 1901, our population balance changed, with more people living in the cities than bush. The great rural industries, especially sheep and cattle, had seen their heyday and were making room for factories and offices. Thousands of hopefuls flocked to Sydney and its inner suburbs, especially Glebe, Pyrmont, Surry Hills and Woolloomooloo. It was around this time that many of the remaining grand homes came tumbling down to make way for squat terrace houses. Corner stores, cafes and drinking establishments were also built adding to the Loo’s changing character.
Some surrounding suburbs, particularly Potts Point and Elizabeth Bay, appear to have upped their social status around this time. This was possibly because the Point was on an elevated position that allowed residents to look down on the rowdier residents of Woolloomooloo.

Despite this, many large houses, previously the residence of one family and their domestic staff, were converted into boarding houses for eager workers. Certainly this move sounded a stay of execution for some of the grander houses on Macleay Street, Potts Point and Glebe Point Road, Glebe, but, one by one, they were pulled down until only a handful remain today.
Woolloomooloo in the first part of the twentieth century must have been one of our most colourful suburbs. It certainly had a reputation for attracting the larrikin element and, just as often, the criminal. It had pimps, prostitutes and plenty of pubs. This dubious business and reputation was gradually handed over to neighbouring Kings Cross. The factories moved out too as rail and road became preferable to troublesome sea freight. This move also had an impact on the Loo as many maritime workers had relocated to the suburb when the finger wharf had been built between 1911 and 1914 as a wool shipping wharf and then as the departure point for our WW1 soldiers.

In the second half of the suburb’s history some vandals in Macquarie Street decided to bulldoze most of the suburb to make way for low cost housing. What on earth were they thinking! Some of the old streets, houses and pubs remain but, sadly, far too much was lost, and that loss is Sydney’s loss.

Here’s a selection of songs and ditties about the ‘Loo
One of the most popular of the ‘Loo songs concerned how you spelt the suburb’s name. I’d heard half-remembered lines until I finally tracked down the complete song as published in the Imperial Songster No 104. The tongue-twister was written by Herbert Rule.

Sydneysiders liked parodies and here’s one set to the tune of ‘It’s A Long way to Tipperary’ sung by soldiers as they shipped out to WW1.

This next one comes from a monthly magazine titled ‘The Sydney Fun’ (Vol 1 No. 15, 1880) and described as a ‘Woolloomooloo Chant’:

In the Tivoli Songster of 1901 I found a drinking toast:

In 1973 I recorded Mrs Susan Colley at the Bathurst Home for the Aged. She had been born in the 1890’s and remembered her father singing:

A WALTZ THROUGH HISTORY AND A SNAPSHOT OF ‘MANAR’ IN 2007

Potts Point is a lot more fun than a suburb named after an accountant deserves to be. Joseph Hyde Potts, who was employed by the Bank of New South Wales, purchased six-and-a-half acres of harbourside land (c.1841) in an area then known as Woolloomooloo Hill – which he renamed Potts Point.  The suburb, recognized as having the highest population density in Australia and is roughly trapezoidal in shape, and at its greatest extent is no more than one kilometer long by two hundred metres wide.

This survey of Potts Point will give a perspective of the suburb’s history and, in particular, its social fabric and architecture, especially as seen through the old Macleay Estate and the ‘Manar’ residential complex at 42 Macleay Street, where this writer lives. The survey, primarily prepared for the residents and local history enthusiasts, is also a window into how the old Company Act and Strata Title management systems work.

Potts Point was the site of some of Australia’s earliest apartment buildings, and from the 1920s through to World War II the area was intensively developed along those lines. As a result, it boasts the highest concentration of Art Deco architecture in Australia. Amongst the most notable examples are the Cahors and Franconia apartment buildings in Macleay Street, and what are arguably two of the finest Streamline Moderne buildings in Australia: the Minerva (or Metro) Theatre and the Minerva Building in Orwell Street. The Minerva (1937-58) was built by a consortium led by the theatrical entrepreneur David Nathaniel Martin as a 1000 seat playhouse and cinema (1937-58). A ‘rather bald, dark, medium-built man with a liking for gay ties’, Martin neither drank nor smoked; he had ‘two strong dislikes—off-colour comedians and fat chorus girls’ (he kept diet sheets in his desk for the latter’. The Metro Theatre (as it was then known) was the site of the first Australian production of the musical Hair in 1970. The area also boasts many fine Victorian-era terraces. Like it or lump it, nearby Kings Cross is not a Sydney suburb – it is actually part of Potts Point.

The residential complex known as Manar with its three distinctive white buildings, and surrounding gardens, offers one of the most interesting histories of the Potts Point area and is considered one of the jewels of Macleay Street. The land was originally part of the vast Alexander Macleay Estate, some 54 acres, granted by Governor Darling to the Colonial Secretary soon after he took up his position in 1825. Although Macleay built Elizabeth Bay House in the 1830s (the foundation stone was laid in 1835), and lived there with his large family between 1839 and 1845, he actually commenced work in developing the gardens in 1826. Macleay, a Scot, was a career diplomat, visionary, and, at the time, the English-speaking world’s greatest ornithologist. Elizabeth Bay House, designed by John Verge, grand in its scale and classic in its design, was highly visible from the harbour, and the pride of Sydney. The gardens, described as a ‘botanist’s paradise’, ran from the gates where the El Alamein fountain now stands, down to the harbour shore. Folklore has it that running short of money, he sold a portion of the land to ‘fellow Scots’, the Gordon Family. They named their site Manar in honour of their original Scottish estate. The Gordon clan also held properties at Braidwood and Hunters Hill, also named after their Scottish Manar heritage. The family still retain the original Scottish house and their Australian descendents also retain the Braidwood Manar property.

The first building was positioned at the rear of the site of the current Building One, and built in the late 1830s at a time when both Woolloomooloo and Potts Point were considered by rich colonials as ‘highly fashionable’. Brougham and Victoria streets were at that time called ‘Woolloomooloo Heights’! Prior to the purchase by Hugh Gordon the Manar site housed the Elizabeth Bay House worker’s cottage.

In July 1836 a young Hugh Gordon reached Sydney to be welcomed by his great friend Patrick Leslie, of Warthill. Leslie immediately introduced him to the Hannibal Macarthur’s of Vineyard (later Subiaco), western Sydney, and they became close friends. Sydney was small and somewhat ‘snobbish’ and the young bachelor certainly landed on his feet since Mrs Hannibal Macarthur was Anna Maria, daughter of Governor King. In his letters home to Manar, Inverurie, Aberdeenshire, Scotland, Gordon described this ‘charming family’ saying ‘Mr Macarthur reminded him of his late and much loved father’. He was also full of praise for the ‘attractive daughters’, one of whom soon after married his friend Patrick Leslie.

Hugh Gordon was one of five sons, and five daughters, of Hugh and Elizabeth Gordon. Hugh Gordon senior had been a very successful partner of the East India Company, worked in Madras, making a fortune in jewels. On his return to Scotland he purchased a grand property known as Woodhall, which he re-named Manar (pronounced Man Nar) after the Manar Straits between Ceylon and South East India, an area famous for the pearl fishing that contributed to his wealth.

The family history relates how Hugh Gordon and Elizabeth had ‘great

sadness” in as much as “two of the sons died at infancy, a third died in his teens and another, young Hugh, immigrated to Australia”.

Hugh Gordon, in the fashion of the day, came to Australia for reasons of health and, according to diaries, had the good fortune to be ‘treated by an excellent doctor under whose care, together with the climate, brought about an almost complete cure.’ He rented a cottage at Parramatta (for fifty pounds a year) where he reported back, ‘Leslie sports a red coat’ and there are ‘packs of hounds’  – as they emulated the fox and hound chases of home. One of his despatches says,

‘I drive tandem not to cut a dash, but of necessity, the roads being so bad.’

In September, 1836, Leslie and Gordon took a steamer trip up the Hunter River and were ‘deeply impressed with the rich soil, and saw many pelicans along the river banks.’ Later Hugh Gordon visited China and Java, and, on his return, married Mary King Macarthur, then only nineteen, ‘to whom he had already lost his heart four years previously.’

I have not been able to pinpoint the exact date Hugh and his young wife purchased the Potts Point property but would suggest it was around 1840, possibly after receiving his inheritance after his father’s death in 1834. No doubt a sailing ship carried a plea back to Scotland to ‘send money’. Maybe the Macarthur-Onslow family loaned the money? It might not be a coincidence that the rear of Manar, which quite possibly was, at the time, the entrance to Manar, was Onslow Place. We do know Hannibal Macarthur, John Macarthur’s nephew, did not make the loan, as he was a declared bankrupt by 1849. Alexander Macleay died in 1848.

Not a lot is known of life at Manar in the late nineteenth century, and for that matter, the reasons and date of the Gordon’s withdrawal from the property. Potts Point was definitely the family’s Sydney home as Braidwood was their primary home and where their son, James Gordon, was born in 1845. James Gordon, a lawyer, later became a Member of the Legislative Assembly (1887-89) and member for Young (1887-89) providing Manar with its first political link, and certainly not its last. He had four daughters and three sons.

(One newspaper clipping I discovered in the Mitchell Library states that Manar Cottage was built in 1867 for Alfred and Mary Lamb, who, presumably, purchased the property off the Gordans. However the article then goes on to say the cottage was demolished and ‘replaced with a two-story Victorian Italianate villa, which was also called ‘Manar Cottage’ after Mary’s family property in Braidwood. Alfred died in 1890 and the cottage was let to a succession of tenants before being sold in 1912”.)

Life at Braidwood appeared successful. It was an extremely large and profitable agricultural venture with Hugh Gordon’s occupation listed as ‘pastoralist’. The road from Braidwood to Sydney was, at best, described as such, however bullock and dray reports point to it being extremely muddy and difficult to navigate. One wonders how long it took the family to travel up and down. The introduction of the stream railway link to Goulburn, one of the earliest in the State, in the 1850s, changed the fortune of many early settlers, as did the later discovery of gold. The original Braidwood property was in excess of 20,000 acres and is now reduced to a more manageable 4000 acres.

By the end of the nineteenth century Australia had changed forever. This was a time of immense commercial activity for Sydney as the bulk of Australia’s population relocated from the country to the cities.

Many old style properties were demolished to make way for factories and export companies. Macleay street in 1901 was quite the stylish boulevard with several major nineteenth century estate houses, which had been preserved by the fact that rather than being demolished  were refurbished into boarding houses, to accommodate workers from nearby Woolloomooloo’s factories and wharves.

As Australia approached the ‘Roaring Twenties’, around 1916, work commenced on expanding and modernising Manar by adding the now Macleay Street end of building one. The architects, using a classic art deco style, were E. A. Scott, Green & Scott. As can see by the building’s inscription, it was completed in 1919. It was developed by the Davis family however, at this stage, there is no information about this family or what date they bought the property. It was possibly around the time of WW1. The other comparable building of the period was The Astor Residency in Macquarie Street, in the city, being opened in 1923. Manar’s Building Two was built in 1928 and Building Three, no doubt interrupted by the lean times of the Great Depression, was finally built ten year’s later, in 1938. After WW2 Building One, like many inner city large houses, primarily became a boarding house.

Macleay Street must have been quite noisy in the first half of the twentieth century. Motor vehicles, often extremely noisy, had replaced the horse-drawn buses and carts, and an electric trolley bus operated in the suburb with its terminal on the corner of Macleay and St Neot’s Avenue.

As Sydney’s wealth increased so did its demand for fashionable housing. Some of the local grand residences were demolished to make way for more practical housing however, by the late twenties, things had settled down. It is surprising that so many of the street’s now well-known major buildings, including Manar’s building three, were built during or straight after the Great Depression including Byron Hall (1929), Werrington (1930) and Wychbury (1934) both on Manning Street, and Wyldefel Gardens (1934 – completed 1936).

One well known ditty, simply known as ‘Billo’, celebrated walking down Macleay Street which, according to the song lyrics, was already being found guilty by association with Kings Cross.

Oh give me old Sydney and give me a girl,
And I’ll be simply okay;
Can anyone point, to a better old sight,
Than Macleay street on Saturday night?
When me and my girlie go twirling about,
My mates, they try to be smart,
Get out of the way, it’s Billo they say,
Walking out with his true dinkum tart.

Macleay Street in the first half of the twentieth century was considered a ‘rich area’, especially attracting the old squattocracy who set up their pieds à terre (small second homes in the city, typically apartments or condominiums).

Sydney’s inner city east suburb, Potts Point, was the target of ridicule around the turn of the 19th century for it boasted many large mansions (which eventually all became boarding houses). The following song appeared in The Railway Worker, a union newspaper, in the early 1930s.

It will come as a surprise to many that Woolloomooloo was once the most desirable suburb in Sydney. Forget Double Bay, Ashfield, Elizabeth Bay, and don’t even think about the north shore, for in the first half of the nineteenth century if you didn’t live in the ‘Loo, you were living in the dump. Woolloomooloo was the home of judges, merchant leaders, politicians and the rest of the hoi polloi. It was named for the first farming station established in the area. By all accounts it was quite a beautiful setting, close to a wonderful bay, in walking distance to the heart of the colony, and a mere stone’s throw to Government House. It was also a safe distance from the rowdy soldiers at Paddington’s Victoria Barracks, and the even rowdier sailors in The Rocks. Grand houses were built, many with spectacular gardens, and, if one were inclined, it was considered relatively safe to engage in one of the popular sports of the day, pedestrianism. There were market gardens and, on the harbour shore of the Woolloomooloo Bay, fresh fish were displayed and sold. In those days the Bay offered sandy beaches and, sadly, unlike today, the fish were edible. Things changed in the second half of the century as better roads, walkways, better communication systems, and later gas and water supplies, encouraged people to move further out.

The city centre was fairly stinky in those days with brickworks, tanneries and either dust or mud creating general havoc. No doubt there was also a desire to get away from some of the more unsavory locals, especially the city larrikins and their donahs. As homeowners moved out small factories moved in to take advantage of the suburb’s close proximity to the city centre and the surrounding seaports. The ports were crucial to the delivery of coal to fire up the mighty steam engines of that era. Labour was also important and alongside the factories came modest worker dwellings.

Woolloomooloo changed again near the end of the nineteenth century as the bulk of Australia’s population packed their ports and took up residence in the cities. Around the time of Federation, in 1901, our population balance changed, with, for the first time, more people living in the cities than bush. The great rural industries, especially sheep and cattle, had seen their heyday and were making room for factories and offices. Thousands of hopefuls flocked to Sydney and its inner suburbs, especially Glebe, Pyrmont, Surry Hills and Woolloomooloo. It was around this time that many of the remaining grand homes came tumbling down to make way for squat terrace houses. Corner stores, cafes and drinking establishments were also built adding to the Loo’s ever-changing character. Some surrounding suburbs, particularly Potts Point and Elizabeth Bay, appear to have upped their social status around this time. This was possibly because the Point was on an elevated position that allowed residents to look down on the rowdier residents of Woolloomooloo.

Despite this, many large homes, often the residence of one family and their domestic staff, were converted into boarding houses for eager workers. Certainly this move sounded a stay of execution for some of the grander houses on Macleay Street, Potts Point and Glebe Point Road, Glebe, but, one by one, they were pulled down until only a handful remain.

Woolloomooloo in the first part of the twentieth century must have been one of our most colourful suburbs. It certainly had a reputation for attracting the larrikin element and, just as often, the criminal. It had pimps, prostitutes and plenty of pubs. This dubious business and reputation was gradually handed over to neighbouring Kings Cross. The factories moved out too as rail and road became preferable to troublesome sea freight. This move also had an impact on the Loo as many maritime workers had relocated to the suburb when the finger wharf had been built between 1911 and 1914 as a wool-shipping wharf and then as the departure point for our WW1 soldiers.

In the second half of the suburb’s history some vandals in Macquarie Street decided to bulldoze most of the suburb to make way for low cost housing. What on earth were they thinking! Some of the old streets, houses and pubs remain but, sadly, far too much was lost, and that loss is Sydney’s loss.

HERE’S A SELECTION OF SONGS AND DITTIES ABOUT THE ‘LOO

One of the most popular of the ‘Loo songs concerned how you spelt the suburb’s name. I’d heard half-remembered lines until I finally tracked down the complete song as published in the Imperial Songster No 104. The tongue-twister was written by Herbert Rule and I have collected several variants over the years. It must have been very popular.

Another ‘how to spell’ song from 1880s ran:

This next one comes from a monthly magazine titled ‘The Sydney Fun’ (Vol 1 No. 15, 1880) and described as a ‘Woolloomooloo Chant’. Butler’s Stairs run from the bottom of Brougham Street up to Victoria Street.

In 1973 I recorded Mrs Susan Colley at the Bathurst Home for the Aged for my National Library Oral History Collection. She had been born in the 1890’s and remembered her father singing:

Wartime always leaves a lasting impression on the social, political and physical landscape of countries involved. Australia was no different.

Kingsclaire, built by the Albert family in 1912 (opened in 1913), and Manar were amongst the most popular residences in the area. Macleay Regis, built in 1939, followed and was the best example of a large building where the apartments were built to allow maximum light for every apartment. The Macleay street strip, leading into the then fashionable Darlinghurst Road, Kings Cross, boasted active shops, restaurants, cafes, continental delicatessens, and an electric trolley bus service that terminated at St Neot’s Avenue. Macleay Street at the time of WW2 was a dead-end and was only extended post-war at Wylde Street, reflecting Garden Island’s expansion to include Cowper Street, then known by locals as ‘The Burma Road’.

It was also during WW2 that Manar became the operational centre for the local National Emergency Service (NES). At least one Warden lived in the apartment now occupied by Mrs O’Gorman and in his memoirs tells of how the rear flat, recently purchased by Harry M Miller, was the local command headquarters which was “furnished with a telephone, stretchers, blankets, coils of heavy rope and hurricane lamps.” Manar resident, great friend of William Dobell, and founder of the highly influential ‘Art in Australia’ and ‘Home’ magazines, Sydney Ure Smith (1887 – 1949), was also a Warden at this time. Louise Home and writer, Murray Bail, now reside in the same apartment. Incidentally, Sydney Ure Smith’s apartment was featured in ‘Home’ magazine in 1931 and described as ‘modern’.

I am told Building One was a ‘private hotel’ for some years, presumably during or immediately after WW2. Resident, Bob Hamilton, recalled hearing that the charge was ‘thirty shillings a week with full board.’ I have been unable to ascertain if this also involved Buildings Two and Three. Whatever the case it also appears that there were not many ‘hotel residents’ as the majority of apartments were still retained as pieds à terre or permanent residents.

Manar is regarded as being designed in a dignified ‘free classical’ idiom.  Many of the apartments, (or should one use the older term ‘flats’?), retain original features, especially in the small side windows, woodwork and ceilings. All the apartments, in all three buildings, had ‘maid’s quarters’, some more generous than others, and it is puzzling to imagine how one could live in the tiny ‘maid’s quarters’ of Building Three. Hopefully they were tiny maids who sprang to service at the sound of the ‘bells’ featured in the dining room. The custom of live-in maids disappeared with the introduction of household labour-saving appliances, especially electric washing machines and vacuum cleaners, and was finally sealed in the dark days of WW2.

By the 1940’s ‘The Cross’’, and that had become the generic name for the entire Elizabeth Bay, Potts Point, Darlinghurst Road and surrounding area, had become a an extremely high-density population area. Crick Avenue, off Macleay Street, for instance, is distinguished by characteristically small-scale apartment buildings with Art Deco overtones. Although brick was not generally favoured for other large building types, it had connotations of domestic warmth and so was thought appropriate for flat and apartment blocks. Crick Avenue suggests something of the variety that was achieved by the use of the ubiquitous brick during the interwar period.

Elizabeth Bay House was always the significant building in the area but it had also been very neglected, reflecting the high cost of maintaining such old buildings. By 1930 it had been (badly) converted into flats and by the time of WW2 it had been turned into a reception place for weddings and ‘mannequin parades’. For quite some years, especially in the 1950s, like many large historic inner city, privately owned buildings, it became a bohemian squat accommodation with some well-known artistic people as residents. Extraordinary as it sounds, there was actually a tunnel running from near Rockwell down past Manar, to the rear of the grand house and was used by locals to get down to the harbour foreshore. (There are references to this trunnel simply described as ‘The Tunnel’) Is it possible the heavy bracken on the Manar cliff face conceals this tunnel? It has also been suggested that the reference refers to the walkway opposite Challis Avenue that goes down to Billyard Avenue but that access was purpose built. It should be noted that there were several tunnel networks built in Potts Point during the early days of WW2.

In the 1950s Manar resident, Mrs Simpson, was caretaker of Elizabeth Bay House.

Elizabeth Bay House was eventually taken over by the State Planning Department of New South Wales in 1964 (after almost two decades of public campaigning), and renovation commenced. Restoration of this beautiful building was complete in 1978. The building is now maintained and controlled by the Historic Houses Trust of New South Wales. Manar’s cliff face provides a backdrop to the rear of the building.

As with any major historic residential property it is the people who decide the fate of continuing design, maintenance and, in many ways, the culture. The roll call of people who have lived at Manar, or been closely associated with it, is a fascinating study. Putting names to the years proved extremely difficult, especially the pre-1916 period. As I prepared this study the current caretaker, Stuart Milburn, surprised me by handing over two very important sets of Manar minutes commencing in 1950 and ending in 1974. These bound documents allowed me to paint a picture of life in Potts Point and Manar covering two important decades. I also interviewed some of the older residents of Manar, Rowan Nicks, Mona and Ken Baker, and Bob and Kathleen Hamilton who provided personal reminiscences and colour. Lacking facts in some areas I have offered a healthy dish of supposition to complete the jigsaw.

To set the scene: a little story from the memory of Alyth Ramsey whose father lived in Apartment Two. Alyth recalls, another resident “worked as Manager of the export/import company Burns Philip in Hunter street in the city and every day he would catch a Hansom Cab from the city to Potts Point, at one shilling, to enjoy lunch at home.’ The Hendy-Pooley family also lived at Manar. Grace Hendy-Pooley was a senior civil servant and, according to Alyth, retained a butler who, on certain occasions, was ‘sent down to the big hotel in Woolloomooloo to fetch the male members of the family who should have been at home.’

Manar was incorporated as a Company in 1951 (registration certificate 350923) comprising the three buildings and holding a value of Australian Pounds 110,000. L.J. Hooker was the first Managing Agents with fees of 3/6d a year for flats 3, 12 and 13, and 5/- all others.

To provide a comparison for maintenance work I noted that painting all three building interiors (all apartments, walls, stairways and woodwork) in 1951 was 86 pounds 14 shillings. In 1952 all three building exteriors were painted at a cost of 2979 pounds 14 shillings. In 2004 the Body Corporate paid over 200,000 to paint all exteriors.

In 1953 the company decided to erect a line of garages in the rear garden and ruled that ‘cars shall be allowed to enter the property from Macleay Street.’ However, according to the Minutes, ‘The sounding of motor horns prohibited and, unless a grave emergency, cars were not to leave the property after 1 am.’ The proposal to erect the garages stated: ’To be erected at the rear of the property adjoining the land owned by the Great Synagogue and the balance of eleven in a position near the cliff top edge frontage to Onslow Place.’ They were finally erected in 1954 at a cost of 1000 pounds to each owner.

In 1954 it was resolved that: ‘The Garden Committee be re-organised

– Mesdames Simpson, Dawes-Smith, Cross’ be appointed.’ In reading subsequent reports it is clear that this trio were a force to be reckoned with – in all matters concerning Manar. One of their first tasks was to arrange the building of a high fence between Manar and the neighbouring de Vere Hotel (constructed 1954) at a cost of 106 pounds. In June of that year it was resolved: ‘The Hills Hoist in the yard be reduced in size and removed to a more suitable position.’ Around this time a barbed-wire fence was erected between Manar and Onslow Place at the rear of the property.

I note in several references to Onslow Place that it is noted as ‘frontage’ and I can only think, especially in the above-mentioned note about allowing vehicles to ‘enter via Macleay Street’, that the main entrance to the property was actually Onslow Place, possibly a driveway through where the Philippines Consulate house now stands.

Macleay Street was indeed a busy thoroughfare and all the Building three street frontage flats were open to the street. The first apartment to install windows (with much heated debate) was number 25.

In August, 1957, it was resolved to insert a new clause in the company’s constitution: ‘The members shall not permit or suffer any person of unsound mind or a drunkard or a person of immoral life to reside in or upon the said flat.’ Ouch! What shenanigans had been going on to inflame this move? In the same month Mrs Cross, obviously true to her name, moved: ‘The Secretary to write to unit 2 pointing out they could not conduct a Bridge Club on the premises.’

The Caretakers of Manar no doubt deserve a history of their own and one can only take pity on yesterday’s caretakers whose duties (in 1957) included: ‘Attendance to garbage removal each morning, attendance to gardens and lawns as required, stoking the three boilers three times daily, cleaning all porches, passageways, doors, floors, brass, glass and stairways as required and mopping all floors twice weekly. They were also required to attend the delivery of coke deliveries and regularly clean the grease traps and drains.’

Coke was the main fuel for Sydney and it had to be delivered regularly and stank to high heaven. Working class suburbs like Paddington, Woolloomooloo and Newtown, with poor ventilation and terraced housing, could not control the smell. The minute books points out that in 1964 the price of coke had increased to pounds 15 for 26 bags so in 1965 a decision was made to convert to oil fuel for the boilers.

Whilst the boilers were sweating it seems the white ants were gnawing. In 1953 the minutes drew attention to the fact that the company had to bring in the pest eradicators ‘again’. The cost of treatment for apartment 4 totalled 50 pounds. Storms also created continual havoc with numerous claims made upon the company’s insurance brokers.

In 1958 the Valuer General’s Department notified Manar of a dramatic increase in the property asset. The unimproved value increased from 55,000 pounds to 68,000 pounds and the improved from 145,000 to 160,000 and the average value from 7250 to 11,000. The company resolved to challenge the new valuations and lodge an appeal.

By all accounts Manar’s company, noticeably led by Mesdames Cross and Simpson, ‘interviewed’ every single applicant purchasing or renting. I noted August 1960 ‘Permission to purchase unit 18 by Mr & Mrs Hamilton was approved. Interviews and references very satisfactory.’ The usual procedure was to give incoming tenants a six-month trial period. In 1971 a similar report stated that ‘Mr E Prigent, Consul du France, his wife and two daughters’ had been approved for tenancy in apartment one with special stipulation ‘not to be used often for social functions’. A meeting 13th Feb 1974 reported, ‘Miss Judy Mirams, Miss Patricia Rabb, Mr David Gool and Mr Robert Nicholls were interviewed and found suitable for Unit 1, for a period of six months subject to the usual conditions.’ David Gool, a friend of the writer, emailed me in March 2007 to say, ‘We stayed for years in Apartment One which, at the time, was owned by an ex-Lord Mayor of Sydney, John Armstrong. He was a tough landlord! The people who interviewed us were very posh and travelled on the French Cruise Line all the time – where I worked.’

Around this time Stanley Korman, a very rich, very shonky property developer had purchased the site of Cario, 81 Macleay Street, and commenced work on the Chevron Hilton, a five-star international hotel with, according to the prospectus, ‘The most exciting project of the day with a modern international hotel, tourist centre and airline terminal’. By 1961 the bottom had dropped out of the speculator’s land market and in 1962 Chevron Hilton went into receivership. By 1968 Stanley Korman had been jailed for improper conduct. Cairo, opposite Manar, and where Ikon stands today, must have been a wonderful stately home. It boasted two lawn tennis courts and the gardens covered the whole area. Like many of the larger homes it became apartments and then a reception centre for weddings and functions.

It appears that one of the major problems Manar had with the Chevron Hilton was the frisky window cleaners who insisted on whistling at the passing girls, including the Manar residents. In 1961 a resolution was passed to send a letter of complaint to the hotel’s management in an attempt to stop the nuisance whistlers. In the same year the committee lodged an objection to a development application to establish the Viking Restaurant at 44 Macleay Street.

As a continuing guide to levy fees I note that in 1961 flats 1 and 2 paid Pounds 266/2/3 and flats 26 and 27 paid 355/18/6.

On the 21st July 1964, the minutes instructed the Secretary ‘To write to the Commissioner of Police extending thanks for their work in guarding Manar during the stay of the Beatles (sic) and also to ATN Channel 7 for supplying extra security during the group’s visit.’

It was also moved the Caretaker be given an additional ten pounds for his extra efforts at this time. I note there were front fences on Manar at this time.

Dr Rowan Nicks moved into Manar 43 years ago with his wife Mary and, by all accounts it was a far different place. For a start, in 1964, the gardens were overgrown and uninspiring. “After WW2 the majority of people living at Manar were war widows and people on the pension, and the idea of spending money on the gardens was unpopular.”        It was Rowan Nicks who started to get the garden moving reflecting his lifelong interest in flowers, scrubs and, of course, birds. He likes to say, “I have an interest in all living things, including humans.” The latter being brought out by his dedication to the medical profession and especially in his work establishing the cardiac thoracic unit at the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital in 1956. In October 2006 this work was celebrated with Dr Nicks receiving an Honorary Membership to the College of Thoracic Surgeons.

Two years after Rowan Nicks arrived at Manar the company received a letter from Oser, Fomertaux & Associates, architects of Sydney, that they had an interest in acquiring the entire Manar site which, they said, ‘Is not advantageously used in its present site and that its location and size will permit a development which would give present owners a considerable profit’. The envisaged development included retail shops across Macleay Street and between 70 -90 flats of two or three bedrooms and ‘of a luxury type’ in one or two buildings.

The extraordinary thing about this letter was the readiness and enthusiasm the Manar residents adopted the concept. For the ensuring six years moves were made to sell the land, demolish the three buildings and develop apartment blocks. We all know that this ‘slash and burn’ happened right across Sydney in the 60s and, unfortunately, local councils and State government were hand-in-hand with the developers. The resulting apartments of the sixties were nearly all gawd-awful ugly using new, lightweight plasters and bricks and usually devoid of traditional design features.

I will highlight some of the events in this real estate circus, as it should encourage further appreciation of the heritage value of Manar and similar apartment blocks.

In 1967 the committee of Manar expressed concern that they would not get a high enough return on the sale. In response the developers suggested 150 smaller apartments.

(Note: As decimal currency was introduced in 1966 all further prices and costs will be in dollars.)

One of the mechanisms of the sale was to establish the price per square foot. Manar buildings comprise some 37,364 square feet on a 4:1 ratio and, with the offered sale price would return something like $20 per sq ft. Further it was noted that the value was approximately $7 a sq ft and the retail value between $8 – $10. By comparison the old Rushcutters Bay Stadium site was valued at $4-$5 as at 11th August 1967 (Sun Newspaper). One needs to understand that this was the period when much of Sydney was being developed as ‘home units’.

The original offer to purchase lapsed.

L. J. Hooker then entered the story and sent an offer to purchase the Manar site. A ‘Development of Manar’ Committee was established to look at this offer and had its first meeting on 23rd June 1969.

The Committee reported back that the Hooker was not followed up however a ‘genuine’ offer arrived from Parkes Development Pty Ltd for $50 a sq ft which would yield $19 sq ft after agent’s commission etc.

The Committee sited the site of the original Pomeroy site (for the Commodore Hotel) which was 20,000 sq ft yielding $17.25 per sq ft net.

On 12th November 1969 the committee passed a motion to sell at $4,500,000 and sent this information to 17 real estate agents in Sydney. Incidentally, the address of Manar at this time was officially

7-9 Onslow Place Potts Point.

Next came Laing and Simmons who said they were interested ‘on behalf of a developer’ who wanted to build an ‘international hotel’.

Dr Beaumont, chair of the sub committee, recommended a sale ‘not less than $19’ and reported the committee had surveyed owners in August 1969 with the following result:

18 – yes to sell at $19
6 – no but would accept a higher offer
1 – not interested in any sale
1 – rejected all offers
1 – no response.

The sub-committee then recommended that the price should actually be $27 per sq ft – reflecting the 331/3 increases in Land Tax and Water rates for the site.

On the 15th October 1969 a Special General meeting of Manar was held and resolved: ‘That the real estate property of the Company be offered for sale at a price of $3,045,000 net, being the equivalent of $27 net per share.’

A 75% majority was required and was carried 16/6 and a subsequent motion passed ‘to accept the offer from L J Hooker’

A V Jennings then entered the field with an offer. Apparently neither Hooker’s nor Jennings’s offer materialised. Hooker, of course, went bust around this time. It is important to realise that the Manar company, representing the various apartment owners, was in debt to the bank and this would have been the main reason the committee pursued the idea of selling the land so vigorously.

The committee seemed to have shot itself in the foot and these were rather troubled times. Five month’s later, in April 1970, it passed a motion to take Manar to auction (with a reserve) through Raine and Horne. In May of that year a Special Resolution noted all Manar owners had agreed to the sale of the three buildings and land but with a reserve of $5,000,000 net. The following owners did not register either way 16, 22, 14, 2, 5.

Progress was slow and in 1971 the committee was advised of impending changes to the City of Sydney zoning regulations. The committee still seemed determined to proceed with the sale and, in 1972, lowered the sale price to $4,250,000, which, for the time, yielded $96.65 per sq ft gross.

In January 1973 a contract arrived prepared by Stephen Jacques and Stephen for Datura Pty Ltd to purchase Manar. Datura was a nominee company of the legal firm Stephen Jacques and Stephen! The purchase price had gone up again to $4,500,000 with a four-month option to proceed. The Committee moved a motion to accept the offer. Negotiations continued and on the 27th April 1973, Datura Pty Ltd issued a special notice to shareholders about vacant possession. Inventories of vacant possession for fixtures and fittings were assembled – including the following oddities:

Apartment
1 – all light fittings
5 – two air conditioners.
10 – wall bracket for clock
11 – gramophone
17 – marble hall table
24 – gold gilt mirror
25 – chandeliers
26 – stainless steel laundry sink
27 – pair of French antique wrought iron gates with side panels, six-foot Japanese screen, and all carpets.

In September 1973 the Datura option to buy had lapsed and, combined with the new building height restrictions included in new zoning regulations, the idea of selling Manar as a development site collapsed.

The saga of the Manar site sale disappeared but general business did not. In March 1973 the committee resolved to conduct a ‘survey’ to monitor the front hallway of Building Three and ‘identify persons entering and leaving the building between 9 pm and 11 pm on a night suitable to the caretaker.’

The following month the results of the ‘survey’ were revealed and the secretary was instructed to write to the owner of number 16 seeking (a) name of person occupying flat (b) acknowledge that said person was keeping a cat and (c) a request to make available a copy of the tenant lease. Apparently legal action was threatened (by the owner of number 16) and eventually there were apologies all round and the problem disappeared.

The neighbours had also appeared to stir the committee for many years. Late in 1967 the committee objected to a development application for a nightclub at 44 Macleay Street, to be called the ‘007 Club’. In March 1970 letters were exchanged between the Committee and the owner of the Texas Tavern, a notorious bar in the de Vere Hotel. Some of the residents of Manar must have been noisy too for in May 1970 the cryptic minutes report: ‘The doors of number one were left open early one morning. Further inspection showed the apartment unoccupied but R&R uniforms were evident.’ Another minute notes that an application for short-term rent in December 1973 for seven members of the British Team participating in the Sydney to Hobart Yacht race had been refused.

Manar has a long and illustrious association with the arts, medicine and politics and to give a social perspective to this survey I provide the following snippets:

The daughter of Sir Earl Page, Prime Minister of Australia for 19 days in 1939, lived at Manar, in apartment eight. Page was known as ‘King of the Clarence’ (referring to the Clarence River, near Grafton) and Sir Robert Menzies’ nemesis. An intriguing name that came up as part of Manar’s twentieth century history was Bailey-Tart. Mary Bailey-Tart was the daughter of Sir Earle Page and she lived at Manar with her husband Wilfred Bailey-Tart, who was a noted newspaper editor working for the SMH and as editor of the Daily Examiner. One wonders whether there is a link to Quan Tart the successful Sydney-Chinese restaurateur of the late nineteenth century.  

Another well-known resident around this time was one of the Silk family. The Silks, a prominent Melbourne Jewish family, relatives of the Myer family, were the major Victorian distributor of fruit and vegetables, especially bananas. They lived in apartment seven. Lewis Albert Silk and family moved into Manar in 1962.

The minutes report that in 1963 Mesdames Hamilton and Megaloconomos were given permission to keep pets in their units.

Sir Garfield Barwick (and Lady Norma Mountier Barwick), Attorney General and Chief Justice of the High Court of Australia, resided in the apartment now occupied by Ken and Mona Baker. It is said the 1973 dismissal of the Whitlam government was planned two days prior in the Manar apartment when Barwick tendered his advice to Governor General John Kerr about his constitutional powers. Incidentally, Barwick’s estate willed two extraordinary watercolours to the National Gallery: Early view of a bushfire at Potts Point, Sydney – painted by one Thomas Wingate (1807-69), and another, ‘Bush Fire, Potts Point, 1840’ was acquired to document the threat of bushfires to the young city of Sydney as well as for its depiction of the still undeveloped rural landscape of Potts Point.

‘Black Jack’ McEwan, Prime Minister of Australia from 19 December 1967 to 10 January 1968 also maintained apartment 23.

The celebrated ‘legal eagle’ and politician, Tom Hughes, brother of the equally celebrated art critic Robert Hughes, raised his family at Manar. The minute book notes he was appointed a Director of Manar in 1953. His daughter Lucy, later to marry local Member and Liberal Minister, Malcolm Turnbull, and to become Lord Mayor of Sydney (2003/4), was born in Apartment 3, and recalls, “crawling out of the front garden, down Macleay Street, where there was a fruit barrow near Crick Avenue. We moved soon after!”

Tom Hughes QC was Attorney General and Liberal Member for Parkes/Barwon 1963-1972. Another legal identity that lived at Manar was Hugh Jamieson, a managing partner at Allens.

The complex seems to have a particular appeal to writers, especially if we review the present occupancy. Murray Bail, long considered one of Australia’s pre-eminent wordsmiths, especially for his novel ‘Eucalyptus’, (which won the Miles Franklin Award in 1999) lives in the garden apartment of building three. For five years Bail was a Trustee of the Australian National Gallery and in 1981 produced a highly regarded book on the Australian artist Ian Fairweather. His latest work is Longhand: A Writer’s Notebookand Notebooks 1970-2003. Reviewers recently compared Bail’s Notebooks 1970-2003 with Proust.

Peter Collins, a resident since 2000, covers both politics and writing. When a Liberal government was elected in 1988 Peter Collins was appointed Minister for Health (1988-1991) and Minister for the Arts (1988-1995). He was later appointed to various portfolios including Attorney General (1991-1992), Consumer Affairs (1992), State Development (1992) and Treasurer (1993-1995). Collins was Leader of the Opposition between 1995 and 1998. In 2000 he published his autobiography, ‘The Bear Pit: a life in politics’. Peter Collins resigned from Parliament in 2003. In 2006 his book ‘Strike Swiftly’, a history of the Navy Commandos, was published. He holds the rank of Commander in the Royal Australian Naval Reserve, and Honorary Colonel in the Army’s elite 1 Commando Regiment in which he earlier served as Lieutenant. He was the first chairman of the Brett Whitely Foundation. A little know fact is that Peter Collins assembled and gifted 76 historic and fashion neckties to the Powerhouse Museum collection. He married Jennine Leanader in 2002, she and her daughter, Tara, moved into number 17. Peter says his first encounter with Manar was as a guest of Kathy Gross and Martin Cooper, around 1992.

Rowan Nicks has three published books: one of poetry, an autobiography and a book on the history of thoracic medicine.

Manar has been well represented in the performing arts including Dame Nellie Melba who, according to saucy legend, was the reputed mistress of one Admiral Figgs V.C. The Admiral left the apartment to his housekeeper and, once again from hearsay, Dame Nellie’s personal belongings, including quite a lot of furniture, were also left in the apartment.  It is a nice dovetail that Australian entrepreneur and celebrity agent, Harry M Miller, has recently purchased the same apartment that was so much part of Melba’s history.

Another medical connection came with ‘Major’ Hamilton and his wife Vera who moved into building three in the 1950s. Major Hamilton was Secretary/ Administrator of the Repatriation Hospital, Concord. After the Major’s untimely death from a road accident the apartment eventually became home for their daughter Betty and husband Bob, who moved into apartment 21 in 1968. After Betty’s death Bob married Kathleen, also a hospital departmental head, and, in 2006, the couple purchased and relocated to apartment six in building two.

Other medical links came with Dr Beaumont, a leading eye specialist, who lived in apartment 6 and Dr Vincent McGovern, a pathologist, who lived in apartment 11.

The money market has always been part of the Manar history including Sir Alfred Davidson, innovative General Manager of the Bank of New South Wales. After his death in 1952 Lady Davidson remained at Manar in apartment 9. Today’s resident list shows several Manor-ites working in the money market including long-time Body Corporate Chairman Timothy Allen. In 2007 there are several money market and IT residents, reflecting the commercial climate of the 21st century.

The fashion industry resides at Manar too with long term resident Kathy Gross, being the designer for George Gross and Harry Who. Alex Zebottle-Bentley, tenant of the spacious apartment number one, is a well-established designer for his Fashion Assassin label. And Mark Cavanagh’s CavCon represents several style brands including Omega Watches, KMS and Absolut. Martin Cooper, represents the film industry and arts in his legal practice.

The visual arts are well-represented by 2006 arrival John Beard who took out the prestigious Archibald Prize for 2007, with his portrait of fellow artist Janet Lawrence. Patricia Anderson is one of Australia’s most regarded art critics and currently writes for the Australian Newspaper, several magazines and is the author of four books, including Elwyn Lynn’s Art World (2002) and most recently Art + Australia: Debates, Dollars &Delusions (2006). She is currently working on a book on Robert Hughes, providing another link to Manar’s history. Katherine West also has a long association with the written word inasmuch as her father, Sir Harold White, was the first National Librarian (1960) of the National Library of Australia.

I also have to put up my hand as a writer with over a dozen books on Australian social history, humour and folklore. The latest books under the Warren Fahey banner are ‘Great Aussie Yarns’ (2006) and ‘The Big Fat Book of Australian Humour’ (2007). I am also recognised as a performer specialising in songs from the colonial period.

Long-term residents, Ken and Mona Baker, are part of Manar’s modern history. Mona came from ‘the land’ at Coonabarabran, and Ken, migrated to Australia from England. They still retain an interest in a Queensland property. Ken, a man for all seasons, also has a successful history in stamp dealing and as a bookmaker. The Bakers purchased Manar in 1979 and moved in after their return from living in England, in 1981. Mona said, “I knew within ten minutes of our first visit that this is the place we wanted” and, as Ken laughingly says, “twenty-eight years later we have no plans to move.” Ken and Mona have visited both the Scottish and Braidwood Manars. Mona, a keen gardener, recalls, “When we came to Manar the gardens were still quite wild and I asked the committee if anyone would mind if I did some work on it. They said, “Please do.” There were no garden beds between Buildings One and Two as they were used as car parking spaces so that was the starting point. “The gardens were ‘planned’ but never really ‘planned’ and that is their appeal. The Garden Committee has done a marvellous job in retaining the most sympathetic and simple design.”

The above list is merely a snapshot of the residents of Manar and not meant to single out any individuals in particular.

Now for a few words of the social environment of Potts Point now and then.

Frankie Davidson’s comic song sums up the Cross of the 1960s. It was written in 1963 and recorded in Melbourne and became a chart success.

Manar’s neighbours on Macleay Street are the de Vere Hotel and The Azure. The Texas Tavern, an infamous bar during the Vietnam War R&R years, owned by Bernie Haughton who also operated the Bourbon & Beefsteak, was situated where the India Down Under restaurant now operates. There’s a statue of Bernie in the Fitzroy Gardens.

The ‘Cross’, of course, has been Sydney’s number one destination for military personnel on R&R (rest and recuperation) leave. One ditty from the past went:

Twinke, twinkle, little star,
Went for a ride in a Yankee car,
What she did I ain’t admittin’,
But what she’s knittin’
Ain’t for Britain.

Garden Island, the major dock for visiting and Australian Navy ships in Sydney, still sees regular R&R sailors waltzing up Macleay Street. In 2007 a large number of American naval ships, including the Kittyhawk, anchored at Garden Island sending over 13,000 sailors across Sydney.

The de Vere, presumably named after the British chain bearing the same name, was built in the 1930’s with classic art deco design. It has been remodelled on several occasions and continues as a 100-room boutique hotel.

The Azure was built in 1960 and is typical of the red brick architecture of that time. It was originally the Sheraton Hotel Motor Inn and The Beatles stayed there during their first Australian tour in 1964. Press reports show that the entire Macleay Street of four blocks was crowded with screaming teenagers – for hour upon hour. Incidentally the building exemplifies the aesthetic distance between the post war and pre war eras. There has been some confusion as to whether The Beatles stayed at the Chevron but I can now say categorically that they stayed at the Sheraton.

Opposite to Manar stood the Chevron Hilton hotel, Sydney’s first ‘international hotel’, built in 1959. The site was originally one of the grandest houses on Macleay Street, called ‘Cairo’; it had extremely large grounds including tennis courts. The Chevron Hilton was ‘the’ place to stay and the residents of Manar must have seen and heard some wild times when the Rolling Stones (1973) and other rockers stayed there.

On 15 November 1978 the company known as Manar Pty Ltd was dissolved and the property came under a more flexible (and sensible) Strata management scheme.

It is difficult to imagine Manar without the imposing decorative steel fence on Macleay Street however this was only added at the beginning of the 1980s. It was a designed by a resident, an architect who was living in apartment 15. Were people more respectful of other people’s property at that time? One can only imagine the intrusion during the wild days and nights of WW2 and the Vietnam period when thousands of military personnel targeted Kings Cross and Potts Point for R&R.

One of the major upgrade programs undertaken by the new Body Corporate was to fire upgrade the three buildings. The cost of this work was in excess of $1,000,000 however such work was an investment in the future of the complex.

It was not until October 1973 that the Manar committee voted to engage a gardener one day a week.

The gardens of Manar contribute greatly to the ambience of the compound. The overriding aim to provide a green palette, in an English style, with grasses, scrubs, trees, trellis climbers, ornaments, a fountain, and hedged gardens. Spots of colour and planter tubs add considerably to the garden design. The Garden Committee, comprised of Pru Allen, Mona Baker, Kathleen Hamilton, Louise Home and lately, Mark Cavanagh, do a sterling job in maintaining this feature. History should also record Andrew and Victoria Isles’ contribution in restoring and developing the rear of the garage garden, which is directed by Rowan Nicks. It is a wonderful place to read or naval gaze (both maritime and anatomical).  

The last five years of Potts Point has seen the suburb, including Kings Cross, change dramatically. The Point, including Elizabeth Bay and ‘Woolloomooloo Heights’ have certainly become more gentrified and this has been illustrated by increasing property values and the increase in the number of services, especially retail, in the area. Wooloomooloo Wharf is now a successful restaurant and residential area attracting even the likes of Russell Crowe and John Laws. Macleay street has become a hive of cafes, bookstores and restaurants and even a Woolworths. Nearby Darlinghurst Road, Kings Cross, has seen a revival and sleave is partly being replaced by more acceptable retail. That said, I doubt if anyone in the suburb would like to see the ‘old Cross’, including a good percentage of sleaze, totally disappear. It is part of the area’s history and living culture. For more Kings Cross history and discussions visit www.kingscrossonline.com.au

Life, high and low, continues on in Potts Point. It is colourful, always awake and always interesting. Macleay Street, often referred to as ‘The Paris end of King’s Cross’, continues to grow and crow.

RUSHCUTTERS BAY 

Digging through Rushcutter’s Bay’s history proves to be a real surprise package taking the area from near useless swampland to a desirable inner city harbour suburb. In the 21st century, the precinct is geographically bordered by Elizabeth Bay Road in the north, the western edge of Rushcutters Bay Park in the east, Bayswater Road in the south and Roslyn Street and Roslyn Gardens in the west. As at the 2011 census the population was 2372, divided evenly between 50% male and female. It is a relatively youthful community with a median average age of 37 years. Although it has the smallest population of the 2011 precincts, it is growing rapidly because of recent apartment construction and increased amenities. 

ORIGIN OF NAME 

Rushcutter Bay, (it is now Rushcutter’s; however the majority of early references have it as singular) got its name from the fact that early settlers used to visit the original swamplands and take the long mangrove rushes for roof thatching.
‘Kogerrah’ is listed as the place name for Rushcutters Bay in ‘Port Jackson Aboriginal Names’ (1910: 35), for which the source was W. H. Huntingdon’s 1873 map. 

Here is a newspaper account of how the area got its name ( Bathurst Free Press 19 Oct 1889) 

The month of May 1788, was marked by some unfortunate affrays with the natives near the settlement. Two of the convicts who had been sent out to cut thatch some distance from the camp were found dead. One of them had four spears in his body, one of the spears having passed entirely through; but the other had no marks of violence upon his body. It was subsequently proved that the men had brought about their own destruction, having stolen a canoe belonging to the blacks from one of the fishing places. Two other men who had been sent out to search for vegetables were attacked about this time in the bush. After having been severely wounded in the head, one of them was carried off, and never afterwards heard of, but the other made his way back, although he had been severely wounded with a spear. The name of Rushcutter’s Bay was given to the scene of the first-mentioned outrage, and by that name it is still known. To discover the actual perpetrators of the outrage, and with a view of recovering the tools which had been stolen, the Governor set out with a party of twelve armed men, and traversed the country for a distance of several miles in the vicinity of the cove where the murders were committed. Numbers of the blacks were seen, but in every instance they avoided the Europeans and the search party were returning to camp when they suddenly fell in with a large body of the natives at the mouth of a cove. The two parties were in close quarters before they saw each other, and one of the blacks immediately stepped forward and signed to the Europeans to retire; but the Governor advancing alone unarmed, and with friendly signs, the black laid his spear aside. In less than three minutes the Europeans were surrounded by over two hundred naked ‘savages;’ who had laid down their spears and stone hatchets as soon as they saw that the party were peaceably disposed. The women and children of the tribe remained in the rear for some time, but were eventually induced to come forward and receive presents at the hands of the governor; and as nothing was seen among the blacks to lead to the belief that any of them had been engaged in the murder of the rushcutters, the Governor parted with them on friendly terms, “more convinced than ever of the necessity of treating them with a proper degree of confidence, in order to prevent disagreement!” When the natives saw that the English intended to go on to the next Cove, an old black made signs that he wished to go first, and having done so, as soon as he had ascended a hill in front he held up both hands, as a sign to another party of about forty blacks, who were assembled at the next cove, that the party advancing were friends. Further inquiries having led the Governor to suppose that, one of the natives had been killed and several wounded previous to the attack made upon the rushcutters, he, on his return to the settlement, offered emancipation as a reward to any convict who should discover the aggressors. About a month after this occurrence one of the convicts who had absconded into the bush, first having committed a robbery, returned to the camp in a starved condition, declaring that he had found it impossible to subsist in the woods. One of the natives, he said, had given him a fish, and then made signs for him to go away, but he afterwards joined a party of blacks who would have burnt him had he not made his escape; and he declared that he had seen the remains of a human body actually on the fire. He further stated that the natives were in great distress from want of food, fish being difficult to catch, and that he saw four of them dying in the woods; but his suggestion that they wished to appease their hunger by meals of cooked human flesh was not credited. But that there was truth in his assertion that the natives were pinched for food was shortly thereafter made manifest, in the following manner : 

A general order had been issued to the regular convict fishing- parties to give a portion of all their takings to such blacks as happened to be present, however small the quantity might be; but the natives were not satisfied with the small portion handed to them by the Europeans who had usurped their fishing grounds, and they, sought to enforce, their rights as natural owners of the soil. A party of about twenty aborigines, armed with spears, came down to the spot where the fishers were employed and without remark or ceremony, seized the greater part of the fish that was in the seine. While this was going on a still larger party of blacks were observed standing at a short distance with their spears poised in readiness to be thrown, had any resistance been offered. No attempt was made to restrain them on this occasion, but from that time an officer with a party of marines always accompanied the fishing parties. 

As proof that they had been driven by dire necessity to take the fish, it may be mentioned that they greedily devoured shark and sting-ray when such could be caught, and even a young whale that had been washed on the beach they carried off and devoured, although during the preceding summer, they would not look at such food. 

Here is another interesting history of the area prepared by Obed West in 1882. ( Sydney Morning Herald. 1882. Obed West. Old and New Sydney.) Mr. West’s father, Thomas West, a convict who made good by making coffins and hanging the bells at St. Philip’s Church, was the recipient of one of Governor Macquarie’s land grants which he then named Barcom Glen. It took in a large slice of what became Paddington and Rushcutter’s Bay. It was his stated intention to erect a windmill on his land. Obed was born in 1807 and aged 75 when he wrote the following reminiscence. 

The name itself is suggestive of its origin, and is hardly necessary, therefore, to state that the Bay received its title on account of a number of men at one time coming here to cut rushes, which grew in abundance, and were used for thatching houses at the time. The Aboriginal name for it was ‘Kogarah’, a name also applied to a place near George’s River. The ground running down to the Bay (Barcom Glen) was always a great camping place for the blacks, particularly the slope on the Darlinghurst side, and even to a very recent period the blacks had a lingering fondness for the old camping ground. In former days I have watched them in their canoes in the Bay, the gins fishing with the line, while their sable lords used their spears to get fish that swam beneath them. It was not always, however, such peaceful sights were seen. On one occasion, juts after the country was colonised, a party of rushcutters coming into the Bay were met and fiercely attacked by a body of blacks, resulting in either two or three of the white men losing their lives. Running from the shores of the bay is Barcom Glen, and flowing through a stream now dirty and miserable looking, but which was one time a beautiful running creek of pure clear water. This creek is the boundary of the city, so that Barcom Glen lies partly within the city and partly within the municipality of Paddington. The estate was granted to my father by Governor Macquarie for the creation of a water mill thereon, the first one established in Australia. As soon as the grant was notified preparations were made for the erection of the mill, the timber required being obtained on the ground, the land about us being thickly timbered with splendid specimens of the mahogany, blackbutt, the blood tree, and the red gum. The mill was completed in 1812 – just 70 years ago – and its completion was considered to be an event of great importance in the settlement. Governor Macquarie himself attended, and started the working of the mill, and, with some ceremony, christened the place Barcom Glen. At this time Rushcutters Bay and Paddington had the appearance of a dark and dense forest, immense mahogany trees, blackbutt and other of the eucalyptus species growing is great profusion, while in the Glen leading up to the house a number of large cabbage trees used to grow, and for years the stems of these palms, quite two feet in diameter at the base, were to be seen standing. About 200 yards from the mill a large swamp commenced, which ran down to where Bentley’s Bridge stands, and then across by the present Glenmore Road to the head of the gully, where the Glenmore Distillery was afterwards built. The swamp was a regular Slough of Despond, and could not be crossed. It swarmed with aquatic birds of every description, red bills, water hens, bitterns, quail, frequently all kinds of ducks, and, when in season, snipe and landrails, and at all times bronze-winged pigeons could be had in abundance. Brush wallabies were also very numerous in the vicinity, and many score of them I have shot. It may seem strange to hear that within the memory of any person living, the head of the swamp was a great resort for dingoes. I have killed numbers of them where the Bus Company’s stables now stand; and often in daylight, when the day has been dull, have seen them come up to my very door and take the poultry. 

Australian Historical Society, vol 10, part 1, 1924, p 46), Dowling recalled that West’s property was covered with bush and large gum trees. This bush was the resort of semi-civilised aboriginals, chiefly half-caste, where they had formed a large camp, which was a nuisance to the neighbourhood. 

In 1903 Mrs Elizabeth Phillip, then aged 96, recalled (Newspaper Cuttings, 24 January 1903, State Library of New South Wales, Mitchell Library, vol 114, p 28) that in her childhood: The blacks in that time were numerous, and I have often seen hundreds of them camped on what is now known as Darling Point; [they were] as kind people as ever lived. Whenever they speared fish they used to bring us some. 

Rushcutters Bay remained a popular meeting place for the indigenous community for food gathering, especially fishing, up until the death of the two convict rush cutters. After the incident, both Europeans and Aborigines were wary of the place. 

Thomas West commenced building his estate and windmill on the southern reach and largely left the sodden swamp to itself. The upper reaches of Barcom Glen were drier and firmer and better suited to settlement and, besides, Oxford street had already become the main eastern thoroughfare for bullock and horse drays and, of course, for soldiers headed to Victoria Barracks. After the Ridley family acquired large portions of the West estate, including much of Rushcutter’s Bay, draining commenced in earnest. 

The 1850s and 60s gold rushes saw thousands of Chinese, or ‘celestials’ as they were often called, arriving in Australia to join the search for gold or, as they had done in America, find 

work on the infrastructure, especially the railways. Many travelled the great distances to the western and southern goldfields – and, no doubt seeing opportunities, just as many stayed in Sydney. The Chinese had a long history in agriculture and it wasn’t long before market gardens appeared around Sydney. Rushcutter’s Bay was close to the city, had more than enough water and essentially uninhabited. An article published in 1914 reminded readers of the importance of these market gardens. (Sydney Morning Herald 26 Jan. 1914) 

There is one part of early Sydney that should not be overlooked. That is the Chinese Gardens of Rushcutter Bay. These extensive and well-kept vegetable beds occupied in the early sixties the whole of the flat running from Rushcutter Bay to the old distillery on Glenmore-road, Paddington. They were regarded as some of the finest market gardens around Sydney. Indeed, the principal supply of vegetables to the city was obtained from this district. The Ridley family were the pioneers in the vegetable–raising enterprise of Paddington, and they subsequently leased to Chinamen. But in after years the scene became changed. The Sydney Omnibus Company built it stables on portion of the land, and a cottage was erected on a portion of the land, which was regarded as a fashionable residence. 

The persecution of the Chinese on the goldfields has been well-documented however, just as shameful, was their urban experience. The Rushcutter’s Bay market gardeners were attacked by larrikin gangs for some fifty years, no doubt spurred on by nationalistic magazines like The Bulletin with its banner of ‘Australia for the white man’ and endless cartoons depicting the Chinese as dangerous inferiors. Occasionally the voice of tolerance spoke out as in this letter to the editor of a Sydney newspaper. 

The Chinese Again (Sydney Morning Herald 19 Aug. 1879) 

Sir, -I wish to call the attention of the police authorities to what appears to be a systematic persecution, by a number of larrikins on a few poor Chinese who have a market garden situated between Rushcutter Bay and the Glenmore Road, and of part of which persecution I was an eyewitness, last Saturday afternoon. 

These noble-souled youths came down in a body upon these poor gardeners (one of whom is just recovering from a severe illness) with yells and whoops, and the foulest of foul language, hurling stones upon the roof of their dwelling, and at the men who were enraged and driven to desperation, not knowing what to do or where to turn to get redress, seeming too very fearful of making any complaint, and rather inclined to put up with a great deal of annoyance (to no little of which they have been subjected at different times, such as the cutting up of their melon vines in the night, and similar kindly actions) rather than come into unfriendly collision with us Europeans. They informed me that the attack upon, them on the previous Saturday lasted a full hour, from 3 to 4 o’clock. It only requires I know, that this state of affairs should be made public to ensure the complete safety of these men; for though many of our most honourable do not approve of inundating this land with Chinese, yet there are few worth calling men who would refuse to protect these who have formed an asylum among us, and who are certainly. “The strangers that are within our gates.” 

To take the very lowest ground of all, and call them animals, then they must be protected, for we have a Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. I think it only fair to state, that these larrikins were not residents of the neighbourhood, but were en route from some unknown point of interest to another. 

(signed) Spectator. 

By the early part of the twentieth century the larrikin gangs wielded immense power in the inner city and these 1906 reports show that the old hatred was still present and even the legal system biased. 

Chinamen and Larrikins, a Lively Encounter (Adelaide Advertiser 18 June 1906) 

A crowd of football ‘barrackers, returning from a match at Hampden Park Oval last evening, amused themselves by stoning Chinese gardeners at Rushcutters’ Bay. The Celestials seized pitchforks and other garden implements, and prepared to make a bold defence, when one of their number appeared on the scene with a blunderbuss. This he fired at the 

roughs, and caused such consternation in their ranks that they scattered in all directions. A young man, Arthur Mater, residing at Surry Hills, was struck in the chin by a shot. The Chinaman who fired the gun has been arrested. 

Charged With malicious Wounding (Sydney Morning Herald 26 June 1906) 

At the Paddington Police Court yesterday Sec Wan, a Chinese gardener residing at Rushcutter Bay was charged with, on June 16 malicious wounding Arthur Mater evidence was given lo the effect that the incident arose out of the action of certain larrikins, who bombarded accused house with stones. Accused stated that when the stones rattled on the roof he procured a pistol and retreating to the centre of the garden over 100 yards away fired with the object of frightening his tormentors. Witness Tyler stated that he did not think the accused aimed at any person. Accused was discharged. 

Another problem amused Sydneysiders in 1910 when a midnight ‘goat raid’ was mounted by Paddington Council. (Report of Paddington Municipal Council, 1910). For some twenty years Paddington and Rushcutter’s Bay had been under attack from feral goats. The council reported it had been ‘successful in getting rid of a number of goats, which were for some time creating a nuisance and annoyance to residents.’ 

Rushcutter’s Bay is a serene protected harbour inlet that runs from Elizabeth Bay to Darling Point. The following drawing, from The Illustrated Sydney News 15 Sept. 1866 shows it as an aquatic and picnic parkland. 

Today the Bay is largely public land including a marina and parklands. It also has a naval history as the training ground for the RAN’s frogmen and submarine divisions. Some of the old naval buildings still remain on the eastern side of the bay. It is from this bay that the annual Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race originated. 

In an earlier life the bay, with its rocky and sandy shore, was a favourite swimming destination and sported two major swimming pools. Swimming, of course, was not considered a sporting activity until later in the nineteenth century – a combination of fear of water (surprisingly even many sailors could not swim), modesty and, in Sydney Harbour, a general fear of sharks. 

Dreadful Drowning. (Moreton Bay Courier 18 June 1906) 

The son of John Rae, now Under Secretary for Public Works in this colony, was drowned on Saturday last, whilst fishing at Rushcutter Bay. The poor boy, with some other lads, was wading in shallow water in search of shrimps, when he slipped into a waterhole and, not being able to swim, was drowned before assistance could be procured. 

Around the time of Federation, when many people moved from the country to the city, Australian society changed dramatically. People who had previously been employed in rural work now found themselves with more leisure time – a five and a half day week rather than seven. After clocking off at midday on Saturday they would plan their weekend activities of sports and picnics. Rushcutter’s Bay emerged as a major destination. The year after Federation agreement was reached for two public swimming enclosures to be built at Rushcutter’s Bay. 

Erection of Baths at Rushcutters Bay (Sydney Morning Herald. 15 Sept. 1902) 

Mr. George Pike has secured from the Sydney Harbour Trust a 10 years’ lease of a site at Rushcutter Bay upon which he intends erecting ladies’ and gentlemen’s swimming baths . The extent of the water area is 145ft. x 247ft, and the locality is on the eastern side of the bay, a little to the north of the Naval Brigade parade ground. Access to the proposed new baths will be obtained by means of a right-of-way over the recently reclaimed lands vested in the Crown Lands Department. Plans for the construction of the baths have been prepared by Messrs Rowe and Spain, architects. These provide for a present structure measuring 108ft x 130ft,, and after allowing for space for refreshment- rooms, offices, and platform accommodation, the area for swimming between the “touchboards” will measure exactly 110ft. by 160ft long, thus providing a measured 60-yards straight course. In the plans every attention has been given to detail and the convenience of bathers. Seventy dressing-boxes will be first erected, with accommodation for many others, which will be added as the demand arises. 

The public swimming pool was seen as a curiosity. It was the time of heavy neck to ankle swimwear (and swimming hats), aquatic demonstrations, elaborate changing rooms and an endless program of entertainment such as weekly band and other musical performance 

The following two photographs show a swimming carnival at Farmer’s Baths 1904 

Although Mr. Pike made the application for the baths they were opened under the name of Farmer’s Rushcutter’s Bay Baths and remained so until the late 1930s. ‘LGR’ writing on the history of Surf Life Saving in Australia indicates that Freddie Williams, a regular swimmer at the Rushcutter’s Bay Men’s Baths, was ‘the father of surfing in Australia’ (he apparently surfed at Freshwater Beach) and had formulated his vision after regular discussion with his ‘pool pals’ as they sunbaked on the enclosure’s pier. 

ALadiesClubFormed. (SydneyMorningHerald28Nov.1904) 

A ladies branch of the East Sydney Swimming Club has been formed. The season will open with a 40 yards handicap at Farmer’s Rushcutter Bay Baths on December 10 Two years later George Farmer shocked Sydneysiders by announcing dual bathing for men and women. (Sydney Morning Herald 24 Feb. 1906) 

Mr George Farmer announces that the Rushcutters Bay baths are open for dual bathing every evening (Sundays excepted). During the recent warm weather bathing has become more popular than ever and a very large number of city and suburban folk have made the evening swim an “institution.” 

Because much of early Rushcutters Bay was swampland and then Chinese vegetable gardens there were not many grand villas like neighbouring Darling Point or Elizabeth Bay. As the swamps and gardens were filled they became pleasure gardens where colonials could stroll by the seaside, enjoy aquatic and other sports and, later, travel on to Watson’s Bay. 

In mid-1908 Sydney promoter Hugh Donald Macintosh leased a vacant lot in Rushcutter’s Bay, just east of the city centre. The site, previously a Chinese market garden, was acquired on a lease of £2 per week over three years. Macintosh then quickly built a stadium to promote major boxing matches. In truth the first incarnation was simply a roped off designated area with a raised boxing ring. The ‘tin shed’ came later. 

The Burns Johnson fight was the ‘fight of the century’ 

The Sydney Stadium, which was at first unroofed, opened with a few exhibition matches, but the first major bout, on August 24 1908, was touted as the ‘boxing event of the century’ and was a fight between Canadian world heavyweight champion Tommy Burns and Australian champion Bill “Boshter” Squires. Burns won by a knockout in the thirteenth round. These early big fights proved extremely popular and vastly profitable for Macintosh. His take from the Burns-Squires fight alone was £13,500 — which would probably equate to at least one million dollars today. Boxing has a long history in Australia as highlighted by the popularity of the sport on the goldfields, especially after news reached Australia of the 1862 ‘bare-fisted battle’ between the Irish American Heenan and England’s John Sayers. This was technically the last bare-fist contest before the introduction of Queensbury Rules. By the late 19th century the sport had become more regulated and exceedingly popular. By the beginning of the 20th century all major Australian cities had boxing stadiums with Sydney claiming more than most. 

This detailed article by boxing journalist Jack Munro explains the background to an even bigger more sensational fight and its outcome. 

Burns Johnson Fight Terrible Drama. (Sydney Morning Herald 15 Feb 1947) 

Rushcutters Bay Stadium reached its maturity and attained an eminence it has never had since five months after its birth, when, on December 26, 1908, Jack Johnson fought Tommy Burns there in the terrible drama of a fierce world heavyweight title match. The arrangement of that famous bout was purely accidental. When H. D. McIntosh conceived the idea 

of the Stadium, he had no idea that this fight could, or would, be staged there. The arena -that is all it was; it was just four walls, without a roof – built almost entirely as an investment in the Burns-Squires fight and the visit of the American Fleet, a conjunction of events that was confidently expected to pour thousands into the coffers.But, contrary to all expectation, the Unites States sailors stayed away from the Burns- Squires battle in unaccounted thousands. Probably no more than a hundred of the ‘gobs’, out of all the ships’ companies, attended. Nevertheless, the fight proved profitable; what it led to was even more profitable. As I have said in a previous article it was Johnson’s approach to McIntosh by cable from Europe that made the meeting of the two picturesque pugilists possible. For Johnson, the meeting was the end of a long chase after Burns which had carried the Negro almost around the world. For Burns, it was the end of his tenure of the world championship that he had tried to retain by an evasion of Johnson that had led Tommy, too, almost around the world. Much has been written of that tremendous fight. There are, however, a few features of it that are not known generally. Firstly, after Burns’s breath-taking demand for £6,000 had been met, Johnson agreed to come to Sydney on a guarantee of £1,000. I believe that Burns made his tremendous demand-and it was tremendous in these days-because he believed that McIntosh would never have the courage to meet it, and that, therefore, the match would be off. Tommy hoped to plan another move in his strategical retreat before the giant Negro. – To Tommy’s surprise – I had almost written to Tommy’s despair- McIntosh agreed to the champions demand. Tommy was trapped. His retreat was cut off. He had to stand and fight. No more evasion was possible for him without a disastrous loss of face, which would have meant the end of his ring career. I believe Tommy resolved to go down with his guns- blazing – for he knew in his heart that go down he must. Fretting about the. fight, worrying about the title, perhaps an element of fear of the Negro who had for months been breathing fire and slaughter on his trail, pulled the champion down. It was, at all events, abnormal for Tommy to lose condition so heavily. Johnson was eager to come to Australia quite cheaply, in relation to the Burns demand. He asked for £1,000, but the day before the fight stepped his request up to £1,500. The promoter granted it. He had no 

other course. Had Johnson asked for another £1,000 he would have got that, too. 

The bookings had been phenomenal with prices ranging from 10/ and 20/ in the bleachers, through £2, £3, £5, and £10 for ringside seats. The gate was, actually, £26,200 a world record. Translated into dollars 1947 dollars, it was 131.000; the previous record gate was but 67,715 dollars, received at Nevada when Battling Nelson met Joe Gans. The attendance was 20,000. Nothing can be written of the actual fight that has not already been told and retold. Tommy went into the ring haggard, pale, timorous. Johnston swept in like a cyclone, with the force of a man who is about to achieve all his earthly ambitions in one short hour. Johnson had known triumph from the moment the bout was arranged. He had been made to suffer because of his colour; he had been spurned, jeered at, discounted. Now he had the luckless Tommy on whom to vent not only his pugilistic, but his racial and personal, vengeance. I do not know that any drama of the ring has been so terrible, so passionate, as was that fight at Rushcutter Bay on December 26, 1908. Johnson set out deliberately to exact as much suffering from Burns as he could. After he had put Burns down for eight in the first round he deliberately avoided knocking him out, because he felt that an early knock-out would be too easy a penalty for the white man. So he carved and slashed at Burns, sadistically but without lethal intent, for almost 14 rounds, whipping Tommy with vituperation as well as with his fists. The police called an end to the slaughter, and to the greatest human drama that the ring has known. I think there never had been – I hope there never will again be-such an unleashing of human emotion in the ring. But the fight won international renown, and international recognition for Rushcutters young stadium. 

Boxing and wrestling became such a craze in the early part of the 20th century that many songs, mostly anonymous parodies, went into popular circulation. The sports were definitely seen as working class and their popularity most probably echoed the national appetite for gambling. Magazines and newspapers devoted to boxing were published weekly and children’s trading cards, featuring either photographs or drawings of the main fighters, were extremely popular with young males. The following song, a parody of a Boer War song about Kitchener. The chorus mentions all the great Australian boxers and is sung to ‘The Wearing of the Green’. (Imperial Songster No. 87. Dec. 1908 edition) 

The Baby’s Christening 

Since boxing has become the craze I’m fairly off my dot
For everybody’s talking fight, I wish they all were shot
It’s Tommy Burns and Johnson no matter where you go
For it’s the only subject that people seem to know

There’s Tomkins, he’s my pal, he’s got it on the brain
He’ll argue fight from morn till night and drive you near insane
His wife he took the baby to be christened yesterday

When the parson said: “What’s its name?” 

I then heard the old girl say: 

The baby’s name is Sullivan, Felix, Foley, Jackson and Roche
Squires and Thompson, Burns and Johnson
Robert Fitzsimmons and Battling Nelson
Bill Lang, Bob Quigley, Slavin and Victor the Chief
Heferty Tim, Jefferies Jim, Griffo and Paddy O’Keefe 

Now my old woman’s just as bad, she’s got the boxing craze
And just to show what she can do on my right optic gaze
She bought a book on boxing and she practices on me
She knocked me out for three last night while we were having tea
And just because I came home late and up the stairs did creep
She landed me an uppercut and sent me off to sleep

And last week when we went to church to have our kiddy named
The Parson nearly took a fit when my old girl exclaimed:
The baby’s name is Sullivan, Felix, Foley, Jackson and Roche
Squires and Thompson, Burns and Johnson
Robert Fitzsimmons and Battling Nelson
Bill Lang, Bob Quigley, Slavin and Victor the Chief
Heferty Tim, Jefferies Jim, Griffo and Paddy O’Keefe 

The old hands at the fight game were never short of an idea to promote their fights and they had a ready media available to help hype the battles. This was particularly true during the Depression when entry prices were reduced and amateur boxers and wrestlers fought without a fee and earned their income by collecting the coins thrown into the ring by the audience. A good fight meant better income. 

Nostalgia for the old Stadium fighting events is perfectly summed up in John Dengate’s Sydney Stadium song which he set to the tune of ‘Dublin City in the Rare Old Times’. John had a lifelong love affair with boxing and its colourful history and, like the previous song, he calls upon the names of some 

of the greats of the ring. Tommy Burns – Australian Welterweight Champion, Vic Patrick – Australian Lightweight Champion, late 1940s, Dave Sands – Aboriginal Middleweight Champion of Australia and British Empire. Bennett – Aboriginal Bantamweight Champion, Hassan – Aboriginal Lightweight Champion. 

Sydney Stadium Song (‘Wearing of the Green’)

Tommy Burns and Patrick, they were mighty men,
Patrick weighed in nine stone and Burns was more than ten,

But Patrick won by knockout in a fierce and bloody fray,

Champions of the forties down at Rushcutter’s Bay. 

Chorus
Now the Stadium’s vanished, boxing’s had its day –
I remember all those champions down at Rushcutter’s Bay. 

Southpaw Jimmy Carruthers, never known to fall,
King of all the bantamweights, the greatest of them all: 

Fast as polished lightning were the punches that he hurled; 

Champion of Australia and champion of the world. 

How I wept when Dave Sands died so tragically;
At Dungog when that truck rolled, it killed a part of me. 

A fine, courageous fighting man, cut down in his prime; 

The greatest of the middleweights since Les Darcy’s time. 

Tollis, Bennett, Hassan; I knew every name –
Each one was a battler in the hard old boxing game,
And Glebe’s own ‘Mustard’ Coleman, who ended his career, 

Belting up the coppers and belting down the beer. 

Now the Stadium’s vanished, boxing’s had its day –
I remember all those champions down at Rushcutter’s Bay. 

Stadium Manager ‘Lucky’ (Sydney Morning Herald 17 July 1947) 

Thrown on to the apron of the ring at Sydney Stadium last night, Sammy Stein just misses the Stadium manager, Mr. Harry Miller. Stein beat Tommy O’Toole by two falls to one. Manager and Referee Tossed From Ring. 

Thrown From The Ring (Hobart Mercury. 27 July 1951) 

Stadium manager Harry Miller and referee Harold Norman were thrown from the ring when they attempted to restore order after Chief Little Wolf (17.8) had defeated Bob Wagner (17.2), two falls to one, at their wrestle at Sydney Stadium tonight. 

Superstitions at the Sydney Stadium. (Sydney Morning Herald 18 Nov 1963) 

‘Promotional superstition’ has stopped the sale of blue tickets for the Sando Mazzinghi/Ralph Dupas fight at the Sydney Stadium. Stadium manager, Harry Miller said, ‘every time blue or special tickets are prepared for a fight the bout has been cancelled.’ 

‘An Example is the Vic Patrick versus Ron Jones fight for the Empire Lightweight title where blue tickets were printed and the fight cancelled immediately afterwards. Same thing happened with the Wallace ‘Bird’ Smith and Fred Dawson fight.’ 

Miller said he had ‘blue tickets’ for the Dupas versus Barnes fight and had then destroyed and reprinted in red.’ 

‘Other promotional superstitions’, Miller said, ‘included never forecasting a fight result or a capacity house’. 

The ‘Old Tin Shed’, that’s what locals liked to call the Sydney Stadium, continued with programs of boxing, wrestling, roller derby and some extraordinary events. A post WW2 debate between Dr. P. J. Ryan, M.S.C., of the Sacred Heart Monastery, Kensington, and Mr. Edgar Ross, a member of the Central Committee of the Communist Party, was held at the Sydney Stadium, Rushcutter Bay, on September 23 1948. 

The subject was: “That Communism is in the best interests ‘of the Australian people.” The old tin shed roof nearly flew off its foundations. 

The park opposite the Stadium was a popular destination for walkers and also as a pick-up strip. Prostitutes, aware of the large crowds attending the Stadium events, used the park to make contacts. The following parody was recorded from Ken McMasters, Melbourne, by Peter Parkhill, in 1975. The tune is ‘South of the Border’. 

SOUTH OF THE TRAM STOP
South of the tram stop, down Rushcutters Bay,
That’s where I met a chrome and took her home the other day. She knew I was stony, and I couldn’t pay,
Because I am a soldier on five bob a day.
But she sighed as she sucked my banana,
And the thought of it brought me to shame.
And I lied when I whispered mañana,
For my banana never came. 

Chrome was an early 20th century term for prostitute. Stony means possessing no money, as in stony broke. And yes, the tram did run from Kings Cross, past Rushcutters Bay, to Watsons Bay. Later, especially the seventies and eighties, the park was also a destination for gay men however, after a murder and frequent bashings they stopped visiting the area. 

In the 1950s the Stadium found a new life as an entertainment venue. The boxing and wrestling continued alongside a dazzling program of concerts, talks and variety shows. There were still bleachers, still leaks when it rained, strange noises, and still a unique smell of sweat, showbiz and history. 

n 1954 American Lee Gordon (born 1923 Leon Lezar Gevorshner) established The Big Show company and opened offices at 151 Bayswater Road, Rushcutters Bay. He negotiation a deal with Stadiums Ltd (at a cost of 500 pounds a hire) and fitted a rotating stage that sat on top of the central boxing ring. The scene was set and the Big Shows kept coming. 

The Stadium Australian acts:
The Bee Gees
The Delltones
Johnny Devlin & The Devils
 

The Easybeats
Col Joye & The Joy Boys
Lonnie Lee & The Leemen
Johnny O’Keefe & The Dee Jays
The Masters Apprentices
The Missing Links
Johnny Rebb & The Rebels
Dig Richards & The Squares
Barry Stanton
Billy Thorpe
Warren William’s
The Seekers
Johnny Young & Kompany
and many others 

Overseas acts:
Bud Abbott and Lou Costello
Paul Anka
Louis Armstrong
Frankie Avalon
The Beatles
Chuck Berry
Pat Boone
Dave Brubeck
Joe “Fingers” Carr
Jimmy Carruthers
Dick Caruso
Johnny Cash
Chubby Checker
The Checkmates
Nat “King” Cole 

The Dave Clark Five
Sammy Davis Jr
The Diamonds
The Drifters 

Bob Dylan & The Band (Apr. 1966)
Duane Eddy
Fabian 

Ella Fitzgerald
Connie Francis
Stan Freberg
Judy Garland (May 1964)
Gerry & The Pacemakers
Dizzy Gillespie & Band
Tab Hunter
Stan Kenton
Frankie Lane 

 Don Cornell
Crash Craddock 

Bill Haley & The Comets
Coleman Hawkins
Al Hibbler
Buddy Holly & The Crickets 

Bob Hope
Tab Hunter 

Betty Hutton
Jonah Jones
The Kalin Twins 

Ose Koichi
Cliff Richards & The Shadows
Jimmie Rodgers 

 Chan Romero
Bobby Rydell 

 Betty Hutton 

 Jerry Colonna
Tommy Sands 

 Jack Scott
The Searchers
Artie Shaw
Frank Sinatra
Red Skelton
The Small Faces 

 The Who 

 Paul Jones
Dakota Staton
Conway Twitty
Sarah Vaughan
Bobby Vee
Gene Vincent
Teddy Wilson 

 Brenda Lee 
Roy Orbison
Everly Bros
Marv Johnson
Frankie Laine
Linda Laurie
Brenda Lee
Jerry Lee Lewis
Little Richard
Gene McDaniels
Johnny Mathis
Sal Mineo 

 The Mouseketeers
Ricky Nelson
The Nilsson Twins
The Platters 

 Lloyd Price
Johnnie Ray
Buddy Rich 

The Big Show with The Everly Brothers, Crash Craddock, Bobby Rydell, Marv Johnson, The Champs, The Crickets, Lonnie Lee. Headliner Craddock had visited in 1959 as a promotional teaser and Lee, ever the showman, had arranged for his song ‘Boom Boom Baby’ to be the first ‘music clip’ in Australia. The song became a favourite on the television program ‘Bandstand’ and became number one in the charts. Craddock was virtually unknown in his homeland. 

The Stadium was demolished in 1970 for the construction of the Eastern Suburbs Railway. 

 We are now used to mega shows at Homebush and the Sydney Cricket Ground but it was the Stadium where our first major concerts were staged for pop, jazz, folk music and comedy. It stank of testosterone, blood and bravado. It really was little more than a giant shed and, by the 1950s, was looking worse for wear. The ceiling leaked. The chairs were rickety and its acoustics were better suited to the clanging of fight bells than most of the performances. One also has to realise how primitive public sound systems were in the last three decades of its life – the 40s, 50s and 60s and that the sound bounced around the walls crazily, especially if you happened to be in the cheap seats, the bleachers. 

Queuing up to buy tickets or waiting for the doors to open was an amusement all in itself as excited crowds lined-up, snake-like, buzzing with expectation. If it was a pop group concert spontaneous singing would erupt to the accompaniment of beating on the walls. Saveloy sellers with portable kerosene heaters sold bread buns with bright red frankfurters covered in equally bright blood red tomato sauce. I remember they had a feint gas flavour. Scalpers and beggars were also a pesky nuisance. One hopes the following gent was not of my family! 

An elderly man, named Edward Fahey, was yesterday at the Paddington Police Court, sentenced to seven day’s hard labour for begging alms in New South Head Road, on Jan 17th. Defendant had been begging from house to house, and also from persons in the street queuing for Stadium tickets.

The White City

Here begins the amazing story of a forgotten part of Rushcutters Bay history. The gates pictured above were the entrance to a wonderland. Enjoy the revelation and imagine if the doors had simply shut to be opened again in the 21st century.  Rushcutter Bay’s most surprising secret was the pleasure park known as The White City

.

It really was a ‘white city’ built in 1912 on reclaimed Chinese market gardens and covering nearly 7 acres fronted by South Head Road with its entrance being approximately where the Crystal Car Wash now stands. The entrance must have looked stunning with its giant multi-coloured water fountains that were lit in the evenings with thousands of lights. Newspaper reports tell of just how popular this amusement park was during its short life that spanned 1913 and 1916. It was (obviously) interrupted by WW1 and when reopened post war entertainment had changed so rapidly that the park closed and eventually became the White City Tennis Courts. The fact that on a good night the park could attract over 35,000 people, many in fancy dress, is further testament to the 2011 post code’s heritage as an entertainment destination. 

When this writer first located a reference to an amusement garden at Rushcutter’s Bay he commenced what could only be called a merry chase. Social histories had plenty of references to Tamarama’s Wonderland, Manly Pier and Coogee Aquarium but nothing of the White City. The Mitchell Library had no manuscript references and only one item under picture search. Prior to the establishment of the National Library of Australia’s TROVE research project to digitize newspapers it was virtually a search for a needle in a haystack. Google searching also offered little on the park until I started to research the man behind the park, the P. T. Barnham of Australia, T. H. Eslick. 

Over the past years I have developed a fascination and admiration for Mr Eslick who appears as a visionary, enthusiast and possible charlatan. There is certainly evidence of some very peculiar behavior in his determination to achieve his dreams. Some of this is brought out in newspaper reports, especially in his efforts to build a White City in Adelaide and his Luna Park in Melbourne. At one stage he even floated a company to turn an island into a utopian community. I was very fortunate to receive assistance from Mr. Eslick’s family in America and also Sydney architect Sam Marshall, who has been equally fascinated with this story. My greatest find was locating photographs and other ephemera of The White City as these provide us with a real insight into this extraordinary part of Sydney’s entertainment history. 

There is so much confusing information on Eslick and his exploits before arriving in Australia, it is better to provide selections from various newspaper accounts. Make up your own mind.

White City Nearly As Big As Earl’s Court.
Pleasure Park In Sydney. (Sydney Morning Herald 26 Nov 1912) 

Few Sydney people realise that there has been built during the last five months in Sydney a White City, which is, except in size, a close replica of the White City in London and similar exhibitions in Paris, Brussels, and Berlin. A number of visitors who were shown round the grounds by 

the manager yesterday were frankly astonished at the character of this pleasure park. Nothing like it has yet been seen in Australia. 

The pleasure ground to be opened at Rushcutter Bay on Saturday is, of course, not so large as the White City in London; but it is not much smaller than Earl’s Court. It has been built, and is managed by an engineer, Mr. T. H. Eslick, who made his name in connection with the construction of the Franco-British Exhibition, and has since been sent for to construct fifteen similar exhibitions in Madrid, Berlin, Paris, Nancy, Blackpool, Glasgow, and was brought out by the Government of India to build and manage the Durbar Exhibition in Bombay. 

The Sydney “White City” contains features from most of these. Five months ago it was a Chinaman’s garden. It now has a central lake surrounded with cupolas and thousands of lights and a fountain playing over coloured lights like the White City in London; a mill wheel and river caves designed as in the Brussels Exhibition; a Japanese village similar to these put up in London; and one of the biggest mountain railways in any part nearly a mile long. The grounds are nine and a half acres, lit by 32,000 electric lamps, and 152 thousand-candle- power gas lamps. Rushcutter Bay at the back of the Stadium has been entirely transformed by this work. Up to last Thursday the cost had been £45,000; £850 were paid in wages last week, and in this final week over £1000. Amongst the shows are a fun factory, mirror maze, joy wheel, Pierrot stage, Palais des Follies, duck pond, battleship range, and many others. There is a stage and ground for free performances, and a bandstand for the White City Band. 

White City to Open. (Sydney Morning Herald 17 Nov 1913) 

The big outdoor amusement enterprise known as the White City, the construction of which at Rushcutter Bay is now nearing completion, will be opened to the public on Saturday November 29. The enterprise is the project of an Australian company, which is catering exclusively for Australian tastes. Even as it stands in its unfinished state the White City has become a source of wonderment to travelers who daily pass its main gates on the South Head road by outgoing and incoming trams, or who look down upon its towers, minarets, palaces, gardens, lakes, and canals from the more elevated Bellevue Hill line. The electricians have fitted into position 23,000 electric lamps, representing three quarters of a million candles power 

The White City Opens (Sydney Morning Herald.19 Nov 1913) 

The White City will undoubtedly prove a great attraction, both to visitors and residents alike, during the Christmas holidays. Nothing like it has been seen in Australia before, and it will be a revelation to country people. The scenic railway borders on the indescribable – it is best characterised as thrilling, every inch of the mile journey. The other attractions are really too numerous to mention. The best recommendation that can be given is that since the city has been opened not a murmur of dissatisfaction from the thousands of patrons has been heard. Special holiday attractions include the Savolas, the daring cycling and acrobatic artists, who perform amazing tricks on a wire stretched 70 ft above the ground; the Decars, assisted by Tomato-the Ass; while excellent promenade concerts are rendered by the White City military band. The park will open on Boxing Day, from IO a.m. to 11 p.m.; matinees, Wednesday and Saturday, 2 to 11 p.m.; other days from 6.30 to 11 p.m. 

White City Attraction (Sydney Morning Herald 19 Nov 1913). 

Diversions at the White City, opening at Rushcutter Bay on Saturday week, will include novelties and spectacular effects from all parts of the world by men who are experienced in this sort of thing. The lighting effects will be unique, and the architectural designs employed in the building scheme are something out of the common. The scenic railway runs through nearly a mile of artificially contrived peaks, valleys, tunnels, chalets and enchanting perspectives, while the underground waterway embraces a boat trip through scenes lifted out of fairyland. There are houses of illusion, mystery, of fun and frolic, of variety entertainment and games, tea kiosks, soda fountains, and broad walks through gardens and miniature parks, boating trips upon artificial lakes and canals, playing fountains, and a host of aerial and other spectacles, which may be watched from the elevated terraces and walks. A permanent band has been employed. 

Sydney’s New Pleasure Park (Sydney Morning Herald 4 Nov 1913) 

Mr. E. J. Carroll, who has command of large theatrical interests in North Queensland, states that after seeing the best of the open air amusement parks in America, England, and the Continent, the White City, at Rushcutter Bay, which Sir George Reid is to open this week is the most picturesque, and most effectively designed, that he has met with. There are others that are more spacious, and contain perhaps a greater conglomeration of what is comprehensively classed as “attractions.” But he has seen nothing to approach the White City for artistic beauty, and he has no doubt that its entertainment features, many of which he helped to select on behalf of the promoters, will rank among the best that, are to be found anywhere. The city will especially excel in what may be termed “free shows,” one of which, secured by Mr. Carroll in America, will represent an incident of the recent Balkan war, terminating in a sensational drop by a young woman from a burning tower 70 ft above the roadway. The White City band, said to be one of the best in the Commonwealth, inasmuch as it is composed of selected musicians of merit, and is directed by Mr. R. M’Anally, gave a performance in Hyde Park last night. 

The White City (Sydney Morning Herald 11 Dec 1913) 

The White City. with its immense storehouse of pleasures, its mysterious illusions, underground cavern, and myriad dainty lamps, has now been opened to the public, and should take a high place in popular favour. ‘Here is diversion to suit all tastes, and young and old. This evening Rushcutter Bay, doubtless, will be the destination of many Sydney pleasure seekers. 

The White City (Sydney Morning Herald 15 Dec 1913) 

The dazzling variety of attractions at the White City, Rushcutter Bay, draws together crowds of people every evening. It is announced that the number of “free” entertainments within the city is to be increased as the summer wears on. On Saturday the Rolvos, pirouetting on a pedestal; the Destines, gymnastic acts; and Morris and Shand, in their acrobatic and comic diversion, entertained the “white citizens.” But the two Savolas, from America, provided the keenest thrills in their trick cycling feats. Seventy feet above the ground a wire is extended, and on this the cyclists perform daringly. This week an aerial swing will he introduced. A Ferris wheel is now on its way out from England. The city will be open to the outer inhabitants of civilisation on Wednesday afternoon, as well as every evening. The official estimate of Saturday night’s attendance was 33,000. 

The White City (Sydney Morning Herald 29 Nov 1913) 

The open-air amusement park, under the title of the White City, which opens on Wednesday night at Rushcutter Bay, embraces a scheme of outdoor entertainment, which is quite new to the majority of Sydney people. Parks of this, or similar description, are common enough in England, America, and upon the Continent, where they are one of the most popular forms of diversion during the summer months, much as they offer not only on attractive opportunity for social intercourse under picturesque and pleasant conditions, but dozens of varied entertainments are at hand for these who desire a little relaxation or recreation. The park occupies a site nearly ten acres in extent, into which has been packed a miniature city, with lakes, canals, fountains, pleasure palaces, and a collection of mysteries, illusions, and laughter making devices selected from the best of these in vogue at similar resorts in other parts of the world. There are broad esplanades, terraces, and walks, from which may be viewed a series of aerial and other exhibitions, while a fine band will play selected programmes of music throughout the season, which is to play the whole of the summer months. 

Success at the turnstiles (Sydney Morning Herald 30 March 1914) 

A steady stream of visitors poured through the turnstiles of the White City on Saturday, and thronged the numerous resorts that cluster so thickly within its joyous walls. The citizens of Sydney have, of course, long since formed the White City habit, and it may well be estimated that their country cousins are by no means far behind them, especially at the present season of the year. The strains of «a an excellent band, the brilliant open-air performance of the Clark- Razzilians, and the graceful gyrations of V. B. Audeite and his companions in the tango add considerably to its many other fascinations. 

The White City Band (Sydney Morning Herald 13 March 1914) 

A meeting was held yesterday in connection with a trouble that recently arose in regard to the White City Band, Apparently there was an understanding between the management of the White City and the members of the band that they should be paid wet or fine, but that in return they should play on occasional extra matinees if required. A letter from the management of the musical director to this effect was produced, and it was a misunderstanding of this letter that led to the trouble. The immediate start of the trouble occurred on Actors’ Day, when the band was called upon to give an extra matinee. The men, however, were unanimous in their appreciation of the way they had always been treated by the management. Mr. Eslick, general manager, said he thought that it 

the men were paid wet or fine they would play an extra matinee if required, and that that was the understanding for Actors’ Day. Mr. O’Brien (Musicians’ Union) said the position now was that the terms were £4 a week, and that the men had to make up for lost time if required. That was clearly the understanding. Mr. Eslick added that the actors had not had to pay for the band. All the expense in that direction was ‘being paid by the White City management. 

The White City (Sydney Morning Herald 31 Jan 1914) 

There seems to be no diminution in the attendance at the White City, for the entire population of Sydney seems to frolic in its beams every day and all day. The approaching departure of Miss Marie Thelin, the famous Swedish diver, who has been electrifying the spectators by her extraordinary plunge into a blazing pool from a burning platform, is greatly regretted, but a worthy successor is promised in a remarkable performance by Calvert, a brilliant and daring comedian, who uses the high wire as a stage. His opening appearance is announced for Wednesday next. Meanwhile visitors enjoy the clever vaudeville acts of Hennessy and Kartell while a striking exhibition of Jujitsu is to be given today by Mr W A Hill and Miss Edna Davis. The White City is open nightly, and on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons 

A Hundred Sideshows. (Sydney Morning Herald 11 Feb 1914) At the White City a hundred sideshows, clustered about the flat, lie beneath the shadow of the White Mountain, with its busy cars climbing or clattering down the grades of the scenic railway. Everywhere the crowds are seeking pleasure and finding it, but there is one period in every session when they draw together in the centre of the ground to stare at the amazing performance of “The Great Calvert,” on the high wire. Only the confidence and intrepidity which he shows his onlookers of the breathless fear that at any moment he may fall. His performance is given at every session of the White City, which is open from 6.30 to 11 o’clock nightly, with matinee turns on Wednesday and. Saturday, when the whole of the attractions arc in full swing from 2 to 11 p.m. Ferry boats run from Milson’s Point and Fort Macquarie, and tram passengers may reach the ground by all cars to Rushcutter’s Bay or by the Bellevue Hill line. 

White City Carnival (Sydney Morning Herald 14 Jan 1916) 

The carnival at the White City last night drew the largest attendance of any night this season. The costumes were very varied and beautiful, the sets being again a special feature of the competitions. A parade of the grounds by these in fancy dress, headed by the Darlinghurst Concert Band, gave everyone a chance of seeing the display, and was a pretty spectacle. 

The White City Reopens (Sydney Morning Herald 22 Dec 1916) 

After a period of enforced hibernating the White City last night again opened its doors to the pleasure-loving public of Sydney. Shortly after 7.30 the Mayoress of Paddington, Mrs J.T.P. Marsh, cut the string holding together the flags of the Allies, which guarded the entrance. Therewasacheerfromthecrowdbeforethegates. ThedirectorMrT H Eslick, in a brief ‘stump’ speech on the occasion, said he hoped they would hold many carnivals during the season, but he ventured to say that before they closed their gates again no carnival would possess such enthusiasm as that celebrating the signing of a victorious peace (Cheers). The opening ceremony over the crowd rushed the grounds. A number of new features are not yet open to the public and among these already commanding attention are an exhibition of performing dogs and a “cafe of the dead,” in which one is alleged to be introduced to numerous thrilling sensations. Generally, however the grounds, with a pretty expanse of lake, a multi coloured waterfall and two Eastern domes on a white building in the background, provide an enchanting atmosphere for an hour’s recreation in the cool of a summer evening. 

White City Hire Wire Walkers (Sydney Morning Herald 13 Jan 1916) 

The Fearless Farokas, high-wire walkers will make their first appearance this evening at the White City. These clever aerialists perform many sensational tricks on the wire cable 60 feet above the ground. Only the wonderful skill which they display in earlier performances convinces the onlookers that they arc not hopelessly doomed. Their performance includes a cakewalk balancing feat with chairs, and clever trapeze work. 

By all accounts the Fearless Farokas were a huge attraction for The White City and advertising shows their season was continually extended. Another big hit for the theme park was their ‘Find The Lucky Spot’ contest which has people crawling all over the parkland looking, hoping. 

I will leave the last word on The White City to Mr Eslick as it was published. (Sunday Mail Sydney 2 April 1916) 

An Appreciation on T. S. Eslick 

(By Himself.) 

You will have noticed by the advertisement that my Directors have decided to give me a Complimentary Benefit, and someone has, therefore, to give you a reason for this unfortunate consummation. My Directors said that it was a mark of appreciation, but my unsullied native modesty prevents me from taking the soft impeachment seriously. The staff decided that, as in the Show Business, the most ridiculous things were the most popular, my Directors had evidently acted accordingly. 

My Tailor, who is a very patient individual, could give no reason when asked, but murmured something about a ‘dispensation of Providence,’ which is too subtle a joke for my limited understanding. Anyway! the Benefit is next Wednesday, which happens to be my birthday, and it is, therefore, MY BIRTHDAY PARTY. 

Birthday Parties are of many kinds, varying as the years roll on. The first Birthday Party I can remember, synchronised with my first pair of velvet breeches. I fell in love with a dainty little Miss, who boasted nine precocious years, in the first hour; fell into a go as you please fight about her in the second hour; fell into a dish of blanc mange, in an effort to get a fourth helping of Tipsy Cake, in the third hour; fell to sleep some time later, behind a screen in the Hall, and fell from grace at the firm touch of a massive parental hand, just as my hated rival was driven off in a cab, half asleep, with his sticky little hands, firmly clasped around the Fairy Goddess of my indigestible dreams. 

Male Birthday Parties assume a more liquid character, with each succeeding year, until at 40 the Ambrosia is entirely overshadowed by the Nectar of the Feast. 

A Girl’s Birthday Party commences with just food — then food and love: — then love and no food — and then no Birthday Party at all. 

But to get back to myself, as the Arctic explorer said when he started to undress, when I landed in Sydney three years ago, I was grieved to find that no one took any notice of me; this worried me at first, but time softened the blow.Now quite a lot of people know me; some don’t bother about the account, but others are really fond of me and are continually looking me up. I didn’t come to Sydney to build The White City — I just came to see the Harbour — the White City was purely an afterthought. I don’t know exactly why I built it; but I want to assure you that the deed was not premeditated. It was at best a careless thing to do, and I certainly ought to have known better, for I was warned often enough of the rashness of the deed, by kindly-disposed strangers. That was three years ago, and The White City is still booming, though it has been reported ‘dead’ or ‘dying’ on the best of authority, at least once a month since.I sometimes gaze at the Entrance Towers when enjoying my morning bath (I can just see them through a ragged hole in the top pane of glass in the bathroom window that the landlord provides for purposes of ventilation), and wonder why the good old ‘City’.’ so obstinately refuses to get in line with popular prophecy. It is really astonishing how things get about in a place like Sydney; I received strict instructions to keep the place from being talked about too much, in the very beginning, and I did my best to keep the secret in the family, but it was a useless attempt — half the Town knows about it now; further secrecy is unnecessary — people will talk. When I think of the anguished hours I have spent pleading with newspaper Editors, not to insert glowing paragraphs about the place, it makes me shed a tear for wasted effort. 

The things I don’t know about running The White City would fill two volumes of ‘Hansard,’ and be vastly more entertaining; but, praise be ! each day my ignorance decreases, each mail helps me to reach a better understanding, and some of my interviews leave me prostrate, but infinitely wiser. I’ll never forget the opening night of The White City in 1913. Sir George Reid conducted the ceremony, and I had a tight pair
of boots on. He said nice things about the place, about the enterprising Directorate, and about me. He nearly forgot me, but I coughed judiciously at the right moment, and providentially drew his attention to the oversight. What trivial things sometimes change the whole course of our lives. I once knew a chap who married a girl because he liked the hat she wore. Twelve months later he took down all the pictures in the house because he said they made him think of things. After that he used to walk an extra half-mile daily going to work, to avoid a bottle factory — he was too sensitive altogether. 

All sorts of things have happened at The White City since Sir George let himself go on its beauties, and there are lots of other things that haven’t — amongst them items of an intimately personal nature. Once, for instance, I mildly suggested to my Board the reconsideration of the financial understanding existing between us, and half-jokingly suggested that it might be altered slightly in my favor. This is one of the things that didn’t happen — but there, a fellow can’t expect to get it every way. Now about this Benefit. I thought when I gave my twenty-first Birthday Party (I think that was in 1911 — or earlier), that it was the finest and biggest thing that ever happened; but this Birthday Party of mine next Wednesday is to be what ‘the gentlemen’s underwear gentleman’ 

calls an ‘out size’ in the way of B.P.’s. Please don’t write me long letters telling me about the swell affair that Cleopatra framed up for Antony — I have all the details at hand, and I am not at all impressed. If you want birds’-tongue pasties and dissolved pearl drinks, if you went to fan yourself with peacocks’ feathers, and lounge on a second-hand Chesterfield, in a costume that would make even Manly sit up and take notice, go to Cleopatra’s next shivoo — I don’t care. But if you would like to have a real No. 1 size good time ; if you want to be entertained solidly from 7.30 to midnight; if you would like to get that Carnival atmosphere — then come to my Birthday Party next Wednesday, and drop Cleo a note saying you are indisposed. 

Yours radiantly, T. H. ESLICK. 

The White City Closes (Sydney Morning Herald 28 April 1917) 

This the closing week of the White City has been a week of carnival. Today there will be “old English” sports from 2.30 to 5.30. It is announced that the closing scenes tonight will include the roasting of an ox. 

The doors of The White City closed forever in May 1917. 

With the closure of the amusement park came the debate on what should be done with the vast tract of land. Some wanted it preserved as parkland, others tennis courts, whilst others pointed to the city’s real need for manufacturing industrial space. Others argued the land should be opened up to housing development. 

White City Housing (Sydney Morning Herald 26 Aug 1919) 

The proposal to utilise the site of the “White City” in connection with the Government’s new housing scheme, while superficially attractive, has little to recommend it in practice. There are two objections to the choice of this site; one is its natural unsuitability, the other lies in its position in what is virtually the inner ring of our metropolis. The first defect, although serious, could possibly be remedied. Much of the site consists of a low-lying gully little higher in level than the Grammar School playing fields and Rushcutter Bay Park, which, despite reclamation and an elaborate system of drainage, are apt to become water-logged after heavy rain. This portion of the site was condemned for building purposes years ago – indeed, that was precisely the reason why when the market gardens disappeared they were succeeded by sports and pleasure 

grounds, and. not by dwelling houses. Mr. Hall and his expert advisers think that when this gully has been filled in the site will be perfectly hygienic. We do not dispute their claim, but we ask them to reconsider it on several grounds. The cost of the adaptation of this site for building purposes will be considerable; even if it is not found to be excessive there is another cogent argument against the decision to commit the housing scheme irrevocably to this plan. In the resumption of the White City site there is an unequalled opportunity for giving an overcrowded city a new lung.. The passer-by has only to look south- ward from New South Head-road to realise that it is needed irregardless, across the low-lying ground, a prospect of Berried ranks of bricks and mortar; he surveys a semi-circle in which densely inhabited Paddington is bounded on either side by congested areas of Darlinghurst and Woollahra. The endless terraces, “cribbed, cabined, and confined” look wistfully towards the harbour and its green foreshores which they have so scanty a chance of enjoying. In a housing scheme which aims, incidentally, at the conservation of national health, it should not be necessary to pick upon a place which is so close to the heart of Sydney, and which, if utilised with more imagination and foresight, would provide a breathing ground for hundreds of thousands instead of a habitation for a few. If the “White City” site were the only site available for the many who require homes we would not quarrel with the selection. But no one can seriously contend that it is necessary for the development of the housing scheme. Between Maroubra Bay and La Perouse there are wide acres which either still belong to the Government or can; be economically resumed. In these the problems of the town-planner and the engineer are simply solved as has been proved by the success of the “colonies” in Matraville. The contours are good; the subsoil lends itself to drainage; the only difficulty lies in the lack of adequate communication, and this can be easily remedied. A light railway to Botany has been suggested. A loop from the present La Perouse tram line at Kensington through Matraville would open up a great deal of country which is at present isolated from the city. Whatever these undertakings cost they would be more profitable in the long run than the filling up of the “White City” to the required level. The one policy stands for some substantive endeavor to grapple with the problem of the overcrowding of Sydney; the other is opportunistic, and will merely accentuate an evil which we are all anxious to have done with. 

The White City Site (Sydney Morning Herald 29 Oct 1920) 

The executive of the People’s Open Air Spaces Movement at its last meeting decided to protest to the Premier against the sale of the White City site. The Government, it was stated, had had a rare chance of dedicating 11 acres adjoining a congested area for public recreation purposes. The sale was considered to be inconsistent with the professions of the Government.. 

White City Ground (Sydney Morning Herald 8 Aug 1921) 

A meeting of all interested in the formation of a lawn tennis ground on the site of the White City will be held at Aaron’s Exchange Hotel on Thursday next at 8 pm. Sir Henry Braddon will preside. 

White City Tennis. (Sydney Morning Herald 20 Oct 1952) 

Sir,-Coming international tennis matches once again bring the White City courts into prominence. The surroundings of the centre courts are marred by unsightly black fences and iron factory buildings adjoining a yard of iron junk. Now the L.awn Tennis Association is “in the money,” could not a coat of paint, or a trellis fence with green creepers be erected to beautify otherwise lovely surroundings? 

Four years after the closure of the parklands work commenced on building the White City Tennis Courts which served as the venue for the New South Wales Championships in 1922. The White City tennis Club was formed in 1947 and operated 16 grass courts, 6 synthetic grass courts and 6 Rebound Ace hard courts. For many years it was the game’s holy ground until urbanisation sent it spinning.  The area surrounding the White City tennis courts continued to grow with football fields, manufacturing, the tramway infrastructure and residential development. 

Rushcutters Bay also had a solid manufacturing history, especially McLaughlin Avenue, Boundary Street and Neild Avenue. This manufacturing eventually gave way to more commercial operations, especially home furnishings, and those associated with the motor vehicle industry. The one early business that stands out is the furniture manufacturing operation F. De Groot. Francis De Groot was a very well known ‘stirrer’ and member of the right-wing political movement The New Guard. His main claim to fame was his furniture – until he sabotaged the official opening of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. His furnishings and shop fittings, always of the highest quality, can still be seen in the ground floor fittings of Sydney’s David Jones department store. 

The New David Jones Store. (Sydney Morning Herald 26 Nov 1927 

Throughout the Store one will notice the many pieces of particularly handsome furniture. These were supplied by F. De Groot, of Rushcutters Bay. The entire chairs for the building -lounge chairs, restural settees, “tub” chairs, arm chairs, and counter chairs were supplied by them, and cover probably thirty different types for the various requirements of the Store. F. E. De Groot has also been successful in tendering for the furniture to be supplied for the Great Restaurant which will be opened on the Seventh Floor when the whole store is complete. The Company were fortunate in securing this firm’s services, too, in the making and assembling of the whole of the fixtures and display cases on the Second Floor. More than two hundred men have been constantly employed during the last four or five months. This floor alone is well worth a visit, and tourists from Abroad will find that they have soon nothing of the kind that is better De Groot Fined £5. (Western Mail (Perth) 7 April 1932) 

Francis Edward de Groot, the English officer who cut the Sydney Harbour bridge ribbon at the opening ceremony and has subsequently figured in a sensational police court cross-examination while defending himself against a charge of offensive behavior was fined £5 today. 

The Sydney Bridge Court Proceedings (Northern Territory Times 5 April 1932) 

Sydney, Tuesday.—When Francis De Groot arrived at the Sydney Central Police Court yesterday to answer the charges arising out of the ribbon cutting incident at the opening of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, the 

scene at Liverpool Street was in striking contrast to the riotous proceedings last Friday, when the police charged a large crowd of new guardsmen when the hearing of the charges was begun. De Groot gave evidence denying that his action in severing the ribbon was offensive. He said he considered, on account of his war services, he was a more suitable person to declare the bridge open than Premier Lang. 

The Rushcutters Bay powerhouse must have been quite a sight and one can only imagine the carbon displacement! 

The Rushcutter Tramway 

As Sydney grew so did its transport system. Today there are repeated calls to bring back the trams that were so important to our urban development. Certainly two of our most important tram routes were the King Street and the Bondi tram, both having links to the Rushcutter’s Bay Tram terminal. 

It is hard to imagine Rushcutter’s Bay housing a powerhouse, but it did. The Rushcutter’s Bay Powerhouse, constructed in 1890, a gigantic building sat at the end of Bayswater Road. 

Where did these mighty turbine engines end up? Could they be in the Powerhouse Museum Collection? 

The steam operated engines pulled wire cables to run the trams which wound through Kings Cross ip and down to the city. Massive pulleys operated drawing power from the nearby powerstation. The Rushcutters Bay Tram Depot housed the trams during off hours. 

If you were getting the ‘last tram to Bondi’ or wanted to ‘shoot through like a Bondi Tram’ – this was the place for you. 

The announcement of the Eastern Suburbs Railway resumptions hampered the suburb’s growth. A rather premature announcement declared. 

Resumptions To Begin Soon. (Sydney Morning herald 17 Feb 1948) 

Within two months the Railway Department will begin to resume land for the Eastern Suburbs railway. The new line will extend between Martin Place and Adelaide Street, Bondi Junction. Among the buildings to be resumed is Sydney Stadium, Rushcutter Bay. This stadium can seat 13,500 people. 350 homes, shops, and factories will also be resumed. About 2,000 people live in homes and shops to be resumed. 

There is one last major feature of Rushcutters Bay’s heritage that cannot be denied – its pioneering role in the Australian film industry. Largely forgotten, the suburb was Australia’s Hollywood commencing with Spencer Films in 1912. Charles Cozens Spencer was a British-born film exhibitor and producer who arrived in Australia in 1905. He established his Spencer’s Pictures in 1918 after making a fortune exhibiting ‘The Great Train Robbery’ and newsreels. The success of ‘The Fatal Wedding’ enabled him to set up a film studio complex at Rushcutter’s Bay. By 1912 he was the largest importer of films in Australia. 

New Industry at Rushcutters Bay (Sydney Morning Herald 17 Aug 1912) 

Australia has now a film factory, where subjects for pictures shows will be arranged on an extensive scale and cinematographed. The building is situated at Rushcutters Bay, and is very commodious . In the film production line the factory is pretentious. To celebrate the opening there was u very large gathering yesterday afternoon. The State Premier, who was accompanied by Mrs. Mc Gowen, was entrusted with the honour of declaring the place open, when he was presented with a golden key, and later on Mrs. Mc Gowen, with a pair of silver scissors, which were presented to her, cut the silk band, which held the stage curtains together in the studio. Directly the curtains were drawn aside there appeared several artists who performed the first act of a drama, and the State Premier, under the direction of the camera expert, turned the handle which operated the films After this there was a toast list. Mr. Briely, the Managing Director of Spencer’s Pictures Ltd, gave “The King”, Sir James Graham proposed “The State Parliament’, and Mr. M Gowen responded. Mr. McGowen subsequently toasted the industry of cinematography in Australia when he made reference to enterprise of the Spencer Company, and to the fact that the films when they were sent abroad would be a splendid advertisement for Australia. 

A year earlier Spencer had established his company, Spencer’s Pictures Ltd with a nominal capital of ₤150,000. 

He went overseas for 12 months; while overseas, the board of Spencers’ voted to merge with Wests Ltd and Amalgamated Pictures resulting in the “combine” of Australasian Films and Union Theatres. After the box office failure of’The Shepherd of the Southern Cross’ (1914) Spencer was unable to persuade the combine to invest in drama production, and stepped back his involvement in the local industry. Spencer films was located on Neild Avenue behind the Sydney Stadium. 

The film industry made large advancements in the mid 1920s, especially the leap from silent films to talkies. 

Australian Films. Growth in Adversity. (Sydney Morning Herald 25 Nov 1933) By Charles Chauvel. 

We who make pictures in Australia could not wish for more healthy signs of an awakening screen consciousness in things Australian than the good money being earned by Australian films and the constant criticism and flow of letters to the newspapers. The Australian motion picture is no longer an “infant,” as it has been alive since the very first movies were ever made; for we must remember that the little old studio at Rush cutter Bay was once the most pretentious movie studio in the world, and also that at a time when the great D. W. Griffiths was making his two- reel thrillers, Australia was making the first six-reel feature. In a tram- way shed at Rushcutter Bay, the first talkies (sound on film) were produced, only to fall a prey to our “faint praise.” Shortly after this, we literally “cheered” to the echo the first crude attempts from America, 

New Industry: Talking Pictures Studio For Rushcutters Bay. 

(Sydney Morning Herald 12 March 1927) 

The old tramway sheds at Rushcutter Bay are to he transformed into a modern motion picture studio, according to a statement made by Mr. T. J. Ley, M.P., at a special screening of the new talking pictures given in the privateprojectionroomoftheDeForestPhonofilmsyesterday afternoon in addition to the production of the ordinary films, special apparatus, it is claimed, has been brought out that will make possible the the creation of talking pictures in Australia for the first time. Up to now all such items have been from America or England “It means,” said Mr. Ley, “that, altogether apart from the regular amusement and commercial uses, the politician of the future will be able to address his audience in person without being near the place. This, of course,” he added, “has, in many instances, advantages from the politician’s point of view.” 

“Plans are almost complete, and the work of transforming the old sheds will be started in the course of a few days,” said the general manager, Captain Stanley W Hawkins, M C. “The studio will have every modern convenience, and it will mean that, in starting a new industry, we shall open another channel of employment. Under the De Forest patent the picture and the speech are recorded at the same time on ordinary standard film, so that perfect synchronisation is assured. Because the idea that this new invention was perfectly marvellous was “sold” to us by American dollars. 

The infant Australian industry has grown slowly through great adversities. It has suffered from want of capital and from the lack of that protection which almost every other Government in the world has given to its film industry-the one great force by whose means a country’s individualism can be preserved and the product of its people’s labours made known to the world. 

However, in face of all this, the Australian motion picture is fighting its way to the front, and Australians in the town and country are stopping to take an interest and to forward their criticism, which any producer should be ready to give heed to, because our first market of importance is that of the Commonwealth. From what I have read in recent correspondence to the “Herald’ regarding scenarios, it seems that there is little knowledge here of what a scenario really is. A scenario, as the term is accepted in leading studios to-day, is really a detailed synopsis of a story built especially for the screen. Its actual structure is in sequence form, expressing itself by the use of technical devices employed in the making of motion pictures. 

The Australian is learning very quickly in our studios, and I firmly believe that for Australian pictures, Australian technicians, artists, and writers will solve all our problems Neither will I subscribe to the idea that Australia offers little scope for stories-that our rural life is tame and lacks adventure, or that we could not produce a great film, such as the “Covered Wagon.” 

Australia is a magnificent canvas upon which to paint our pictures. Our wagons that, plied westward with the first families to settle the outback were not covered ones, like the Americans: but behind those struggling bullocks, mixed with the creak of wood yokes the crack of whips, and the wisps of aboriginal smoke signals, which twisted from blue valleys into the clouds, was romance and adventure aplenty-the romance and adventure of our great-grandparents. 

There was a time when a handful of British people struggled to exist on the shores of Port Jackson-when seines were stretched across the length of the harbour from end to end, and a kangaroo became food for the Governor only. There was a time when one could walk down George- street to the present site of the theatre which is now screening Australian films, and see a market-place with more colour and strangeness than an Eastern Bazaar. Then at the Haymarket were sheds filled with the produce from the farms, meat, clothing, and children’s toys, while in a space adjoining these sheds, merry-go-rounds were humming, jugglers were performing on temporary platforms, tragedies were enacted upon a stage in front of a canvas theatre, pennyworths of electricity were sold to those who liked the sensation of a shock, and the sellers of boiled peas plied their trade with tremendous vigour. The first fifty years of our colony’s development was a tome of adventure and colour. Our films of to-day are only shadowed indications of what can follow to-morrow, as more confidence is invested in the work. Some day perhaps a great film will be made surrounding the old Columbus of Australia-Fernandez de Quiros. For twenty-nine years the worthy old mariner, yellow of skin and wrinkled with age, dreamed of a “Terra Australis,” and upon returning to Spain in command of Mendana’s shattered ships and grlsly skeletons, he battled his way to the Court of King Philip the Third, beseeching again and again that Philip grant him men and ships by which to discover this fabled continent of the South Seas. 

We have our Disraelis and our Alexander Hamiltons in men like Wentworth, Parkes, and Peter Lalor. Even the icy fingers of the frozen north have been less retentive than the secretive grasp of Central Australian deserts. It has been rumoured that Burke went with Wills to the deserts “because of a woman.” Leichhardt’s disappearance is a grim secret, that our deserts still hold. Here was a cavalcade of seven men, fifty bullocks, thirteen mules, twelve horses, and two hundred and seventy goats. Of Leichhardt and his companions not a trace line’s even been found. 

Australian history and life teems with adventure, and of course romance is always where the writer puts it. I look to the future with the greatest confidence, believing that Australian writers will develop great photo- plays from the soil of Australia, but in saying this I agree with those who believe that we should regard our work with the eyes of a D. W. Griffiths, or a James Cruze, rather than with the narrowed vision of those who look only to the curiosity of the crowds to-day, instead of giving thought to the sincere patronage of our Australian audiences of tomorrow. 

The film industry created immense excitement across Australia and it probably isn’t surprising that shonks should move in to take advantage of the situation. 

“Born Movie Stars’ – Bogus Film Producer (Brisbane Courier Mail 7 Nov 1925) 

A few weeks ago a stranger landed in Sydney and announced himself as a film producer. He accosted a number of women in the streets, informed them that they were born “movie” stars, and arranged with them to produce a number of pictures. At Manly many surf scenes depicted, and the “producer” was so enthusiastic over the results that be gave an 

expensive dinner. He informed his pupils that be controlled a studio at Rushcutters Bay, and that the fee would be £2/2/ per member. 

He appointed a young man whom he met casually as his private secretary, and began business by borrowing his overcoat and entering into large obligations for the payment of taxi-cab hire. Then he disappeared. The police were put on the scent, and last night they arrested a man. James Leroy. M’Cune, an actor, was charged with having failed to pay taxi cab fares, and also with having converted to his own use an overcoat of which he was not the owner. The police prosecutor said that the defendant engaged a driver to go round whilst he interviewed various girls in order “to induce flappers,” to use his own term, “to learn acting.” He engaged a man to go to Manly to take “still” pictures, and also“500ft.offilm.”Heendeavoredtogetgirlstojoinhis “club.” Defendant was remanded. 

New Talkie Studio At White City. Five Films Planned. (Sydney Morning Herald 20 Feb 1933) 

The directors of Cinesound Productions, Ltd., announced on Saturday that they have decided to re-equip the old White City silent film studio at Rushcutter Bay (the freehold of which the company purchased last week) as a second talking film studio, quite independent of Cinesound’s present studio at Bondi Junction. The work is now in progress, and the studio will be made thoroughly sound-proof by the latest systems adopted at Elstree and Hollywood. 

The directors state that all the materials and plant used in the studio will be manufactured in the company’s workshops at Bondi, and, with the exception of the actual cameras and microphones, will be wholly Australian. 

Although Cinesound’s Bondi studio has been doubled in size for the production of “The Squatter’s Daughter,” it is necessary to have the White City studio to enable two entirely separate companies to work simultaneously. At Bondi the Cinesound news film is produced weekly for circulation in Australia, New Zealand, and England, and current pictures are regularly despatched to England by air mail. The production of “The Silence of Dean Maitland” will begin immediately. Mr. Bert Bailey’s next production, “Rudds’ New Selection,” will then be made. 

At the new studio at White City the first production will be “Tall Timbers,” to be followed by “The Man They Could Not Hang,” and probably a talking film version of “The Term of his Natural Life.” 

The White City studio will also be available for hiring by outside producers. 

Five New Pictures. (Hobart Mercury 20 Feb 1933) 

“The Term of His Natural Life” 

The production of five motion pictures is contemplated by the directors of Cinesound Productions Ltd. who announced on Saturday that they had decided to re-equip an old silent film studio at White City, Rushcutters Bay, to supplement their studio at Bondi, 

“The Silence of Dean Maitland” will be the first picture, and production will begin immediately. This will be followed shortly by Mr. Bert Bailey’s “Rudd’s New Selection.” Then will be made “Tall Timbers,” “The Man They Could Not Hang,” and probably a talking version of “The Term of His Natural Life. 

History in Australian Films. Two Projects (Sydney Morning Herald 5 Jan 1934) 

Australian history is being embodied In Australian sound-film play production. Two plays are in course of construction by Sydney producers. One is the ambitious project of Mr. Charles Chauvel, for Expeditionary Films, of a romance with the development of the colony from the early times as its background. The other is the story of the Kelly bushrangers, being filmed at the Rushcutter Bay studios and in the country by Imperial Feature Films, Ltd. 

Mr. Chauvel’s picture will carry through the early history of the settlers in New South Wales the story of two families in successive generations building up their fortunes in the new land. It will cover the progress of the colony from the earliest days, and the struggle for existence in the hard conditions faced by the pioneers. The picturesquely uniformed soldiers of the early period, when Sydney was a small village, will lend themselves to colourful presentation on the screen in a play passing to later times when the harbour be- came filled with ships, when the goldfields were drawing immigrants from the homeland, and the colonies were thriving and wealthy. The two families and their descendants will participate in the changes taking place and the vicissitudes of life in Australia. They will pass on to the period of the Great War, followed by the depression and emergence there to prosperity. 

Features in the filming will include the conquest of the mountains and the movement of the settlers into the Interior. Characters such as Governor Phillip, Macquarie, Wentworth, Blaxland, Macarthur, Solomon Wiseman, and a large number of minor personalities of the past, will be included. Early Sydney scenes in the days of the whalers and the sailing ships are being prepared. When the action of the play takes members of the two families outback, some of the best scenic photography available in New South Wales, Queensland, and possibly Victoria, will be obtained to enhance the value of the display, and some interesting representations are projected of the cattle and sheep stations when the squatters reigned as kings far out. It is intended to exploit the Hawkesbury River, the Blue Mountains, and the Tweed River country for bush and river pictorial beauty. 

A large amount of historical research has been undertaken in obtaining material for the play, which has been written by Mr. Chauvel. The casting has begun and leads are sought. As Mr. Chauvel described the story yesterday it will in its dramatic representation relate history something after the style of “Cavalcade,” and the story of the two families will run through it on the lines of the characterisations In Edna Ferber’s novel “Cimmaron.” 

“When The Kelly’s Rode” Mr. Harry Southwell, a producer with experience In England, America, and in Europe, is engaged on the story of the Kelly bushrangers in a film to be entitled “When the Kellys Rode.” 

A considerable portion of the play has already been filmed, the company having been at work in the valleys near Katoomba. Yesterday at the Rushcutter Bay studios a number of the scenes were screened for editing purposes, and some stirring pictures were shown of chase and pursuit, the police troopers in their old-time uniforms mounted on splendid horses, with a background of bush and stream, making a fine show. A quarter of the film will consist of interiors showing the Kelly family at home and various other incidents of the story, the remainder being photography taken outside. 

While not adhering entirely to the facts in regard to the career of the bushrangers, the story will be based upon it with sufficient license taken for the purposes of the staging. It opens with pictures of the Kelly home, with the family interrupted by the entrance of a trooper to arrest Dan Kelly for horse stealing. Then the trooper is shot in the arm and Dan and his brother take to the bush. A thrilling picture is made of the attack on the police camp (when the gang shot three troopers and began their desperate career of crime), and some good scenes are shown of the hard riding troopers chasing their quarry through the bush. Several highlights in the history, such as the raid on Jerilderie, are to be in the film, which will finish with the siege of the hotel at Glenrowan and the extinction of the gang. 

Strangely bewhiskered young men are to be seen about Rushcutter Bay, where the “interior” scenes are filmed. These are Messrs. Hay Simpson, Jack Appleton, Norman Waite, and Robert Ingles, who are taking the parts of Ned and Dan Kelly, Joe Byrne, and Steve Hart respectively, and have temporarily dispensed with shaving. Kate Kelly is Miss Regina Somerville, and Mrs. Kelly is Miss Hamilton. Mr. George Doran is Sergeant Kennedy. It is expected that the film will be completed about Easter. 

Film Producer Plans Local Cartoons.(Sunday Herald 18 March 1950) 

A marionette film is “on location” in a new film studio in Rushcutter Bay. Producer John Wiltshire says his technicians have discovered quick, cheap production methods which cut time and costs by 75 per cent. The marionettes are filmed in motion instead of by the slow single frame method used for animated cartoons and American puppet films. Mr. Wiltshire says he could turn out three or four films a year with his present staff. He says America in particular is hungry for Australian films, so typically Australian “cartoons” will probably be developed. His current production is called “Terrific the Giant,” and is built around original Australian music by Sydney composer Sidney John Kay. 

He expects to have it ready by the end of the month to go to Britain and America “on approval.” 

Giant Made In Australia (Daily News, Perth. 4 May 1950) 

SYDNEY, Thurs: Terrific, The Giant, an Australian made puppet film cartoon, was given a preview in Sydney yesterday Produced by director John Wiltshire of Associated Programmes Pty. Ltd., the cartoon is the first of its kind made in Australia. It tells the story of a little man who used his wits to vanquish a boasting giant. Scripts have been prepared or a series of other puppet films. 

And as a final note a word on the ever-chirping seagulls of Rushcutter’s Bay. In Granny’s Column of the Sydney Morning Herald of 1st August 1953 – It was mentioned here that a displaced galah was leading a gang of seagulls at Rushcutter Bay. A Mosman lady has rung to say that a bird which she thinks is a corella leads another lot of gulls at Balmoral. This flock, she states, flies daily over the Mosman Croquet Club. (I’ve no idea why.)  A Kingsford reader was inspired by the galah’s eccentric conduct to compose this poem: 

“When wandering Bertie returned to the nest,
He pecked at poor Arthur and gave him no rest; 

So Cocky, disgruntled, flew far, far away
He’s now leading seagulls round Rushcutters Bay. 

So ends this short journey into Rushcutters Bay history. There are many other tales to tell from the past but, rest assured, as the suburb continues to experience development, particularly in housing, stories will continue to be told. 

Elizabeth Bay 

Elizabeth Bay, or ‘Betty Bay’ as it is affectionately known, was originally the estate of Alexander Macleay who was Colonial Secretary of New South Wales. Macleay arrived in Sydney in 1826 and remained in the position until 1837. His story is one of passion, grandeur and financial despair. 

Unlike the other precincts of the post code 2011, Elizabeth Bay has always been essentially residential
and recreational. Apart from a few retail premises and motor garages it has no factory or warehouse history. For this reason the Bay can claim a variety of architectural expressions – old mansions and new flats, deco gems, Spanish Mission and some extremely grand harbour homes all jostling alongside several unfortunate high-rise blocks of somewhat dubious design. 

ORIGIN OF NAME 

The colony of New South Wales most outstanding colonial Governor, Lachlan Macquarie, had a penchant for naming places after his family. 

Elizabeth Bay was named for his wife, Elizabeth. 

The area was originally known by the Aboriginal name ‘Yarrandabby’. 

Its southern section, where it meets Rushcutter Bay, is Macleay Point although that geographical description has slipped from popular use. 

Macleay Point was originally the Aboriginal ‘Jerrewon’ and a popular food harvesting and meeting site for local indigenous people. 

Undoubtedly the most significant historical building in the area is Elizabeth Bay House. Governor Ralph Darling provided Alexander Macleay with the impressive land grant in the year the Colonial Secretary arrived in Sydney, and Macleay seemingly accepted the challenge to develop the large tract of land. Macleay was already recognised for his interest in entomology and botany and, considering the land was native bush, the partnership seemed fitting. Macleay was undoubtedly a man of vision and he immediately set to develop his vision. 

The Governor, in a despatch to the Right Hon. William Hoskisson, dated March 28, 1S28, wrote thus: 

‘The land granted to Mr. Macleay at Elizabeth Bay, a mile and a half from Sydney, was for ‘the purpose of erecting a family house,
and cultivating a garden. Mr. Macleay’s knowledge as a horticulturist is likely to prove beneficial to the colony. He has always spent a considerable sum in the improvement and cultivation of his grounds, and in erecting a stable and offices, preparatory to building a house, which it is his intention shortly to commence. From the manner in which he has entered into this undertaking, and the scale upon which he has commenced to settle and stock the land he has received for agricultural purposes (the usual grant of 2500 acres), he will no doubt prove an important acquisition to the colony. In this respect alone, the capital which he has already vested in stock, and is still continuing to expend, is considerable.’ 

Macleay’s estate was around 54 acres – a massive backyard in anyone’s language – and his residence conceived as ‘the finest house in the colony’. It was a controversial grant since the land had previously been slated as public land. Colonial eyebrows were further raised at the thought of the planned house outshining that of the Governor, however, a new (and larger) Government House was completed in 1845. Elizabeth Bay House, and thankfully it retained that stately name down through the years, experienced several ups and downs in its history. Its early life under the Macleay family was dogged with financial woes. In the twentieth century, it experienced a number of owners and an equal number of development plans – including a 1927 suggestion to raze it to the ground so flats could be built on its prime land. Such large residences, especially those purpose-built like this one, present real heritage challenges, and in 1981 its future was secured when it became one of the first properties in the portfolio of the newly created Historic Houses Trust of New South Wales. Sadly many other fine colonial residences fell to the wrecking ball of the twentieth century. 

Governor Darling’s grant, like many of the neighbouring land grants in Woolloomooloo, was given with certain conditions, but especially that a grand villa residence be built and surrounded by impressive gardens. The idea was to set examples of style and good fortune in the colony and also, hopefully, provide the colony with produce. Considering Macleay’s over-riding passion of collecting and studying insects and rare plants, it is not surprising that his first work was in developing gardens. In reality he probably envisaged the entire 54 acres as a garden, a very grand garden. 

Applauded for his vision. (The Sydney Gazette 28 May 1831) 

Five years ago, the coast immediately eastward of Sydney was a mass of cold and hopeless sterility, which its stunted and unsightly bushes seemed only to render the more palatable; it is now traversed by an elegant carriage road and picturesque walks….. That these rapid improvements were originated by the proprietor of Elizabeth Bay cannot be doubted. He was the first to show how these hillocks of rock and sand might be rendered tributary to the taste and advantage of civilized man…. As to the taste of Elizabeth Bay … no one can form 

an adequate judgment of the taste, labour and capital that have been bestowed upon it…. A spacious garden, filled with almost every type of vegetable; a trellised vinery, a flower garden, rich in botanical curiosities, refreshed with ponds of pure water and overlooked by fanciful grottoes; a maze of gravel walks winding around the rugged hills in every direction, and affording sometimes an umbrageous solitude, sometimes a sylvan coup d’ceil, and sometimes a bold view of the spreading bays and distant headlands – these are living proofs that its honourable proprietor well deserved the boon, and has well repaid it. 

The original garden contained many rare plant species and was described as ‘Macleay’s Paradise of a Garden’. Apart from its native and exotic plants, trees and flowering gardens, the estate had a sizable orchard and a kitchen garden. The original gates to the property were approximately where the El Alamein fountain stands today. One can imagine coaches entering the gates and proceeding down through the winding road of the glen, past beautiful gardens, both wild and cultivated, to the spectacular mansion that looked out across the bay. 

(Left: an early possible and fanciful depiction of Elizabeth Bay and the house in a pristine state) 

It became obvious that as the garden consumed Macleay (and his finances) his family became increasing concerned at the extravagant plans and mounting accounts.

George Macleay, one of Alexander’s sons, wrote to his brother, William, in c 1836: 

Elizabeth Bay, my father’s garden is really a most lovely place – it has enabled my father to exhibit a great deal of taste at a very considerable expense … I am sorry to see him building so large a house… six thousand pound will be the cost of it at least. .. The elevation is very handsome, indeed it will be the finest house in the colony, but I do not see where the revenues are to come from to allow the occupants to reside in it with becoming dignity. 

Sadly, the sole remaining evidence of Macleay’s treasured garden is a short walkway behind the flats that replaced
the mansion, Liverynga, formerly the family home of Sir Philip Street. The walkway connects Onslow Avenue with Billyard Avenue and is still a charming reminder of the area’s former glory. Surrounded by trees and plants thought to be from the original garden is a primitive grotto bearing the ‘1835’ inscription, carved into the rock face. Newspaper accounts of the period refer to ‘grottoes’ implying there was more than one. 

William Sharp Macleay carried on his father’s interest in all things botanical and further developed the gardens and collections. We are fortunate to have an extremely detailed account of the Macleay family entomological work from an Australian newspaper in 1933 

Alexander Macleay

Forgotten Pioneers. Alexander Macleay, Father of Australian Zoology. An Indefatigable Collector. By Arthur Jose. (Brisbane Courier Mail. 7 Oct. 1933) 

Collector of Insects. Macleay’s life of collecting and studying strange animals, especially insects. We know nothing of its origin, but before he was 30 he was a Fellow of the Linnaean Society and a colleague of Joseph Banks, and was the society’s secretary for 27 years-“twenty-seven years,” resolved the council when he left it, “of unremitting and unrequited labour devoted to the interests of science.” From the first, it would seem, he was interested in Australia, and, when Lewin went out in 1799 as “a painter and drawer in natural history,” subsidised him liberally on condition that Lewin repaid him with new species of Australian insects. When, in 1805, Lewin sent home for publication his ‘Lepidopterous Insects of New South Wales, it was Macleay who saw for the publication, described most of the butterflies Lewin had made pictures of, and fought hard with Lewin’s brother over the scientific names of the specimens. Lewin himself was partly illiterate, and the brother was not much more skilful. The original plates (which had been engraved by Lewin in the colony), and what manuscript there was with them, went into Macleay’s collection. 

The collection was already accounted remarkable. It included a good deal more than insects, among them a coucal (swamp-pheasant) from Mount Warning, and crow-shrikes and ant-thrushes from South America; but its central feature was the series of Australian insects, not only Lewin’s contributions, but some which Captain Cook had given to Sir Ashton Lever, and others sent by Surgeon White, of the First Fleet, to the great naturalist, Francillon. P. P. King’s gatherings during his 1818-1822 voyages were added later. By 1825 the collection was admitted to be the finest then in existence. The Royal Society had made him a Fellow in 1809 and a Councillor in 1824, and several learned societies on the Continent were proud to add his name to their members’ list. The loss of such a man to British science was deeply lamented, more especially as he had managed to retain what many men of science manage mutually to destroy-what his Linnaean colleague James Smith, another devoted entomologist, called “the constant active friendship of thirty-one years.” But Brisbane had proved an inefficient ruler, and Darling had to be chosen just because he was a martinet, and Bathurst thought it wise to provide for him a sensible, high-minded and thoroughly trustworthy adviser, and Macleay had to go. 

Before he left he distributed among friends and several learned societies many of his specimens, and continued the practice after his arrival in New South Wales, sending home 129 new bird-skins in 1827-9 and 126 specimens of native fruits and seeds: in 1835 he procured for the Linnaean Society an Aptéryx from New Zealand, and a little later, sent home live “white fleshed” pigeons, which he hoped to have acclimatized in England, as their flesh was far superior to that of the partridge. 

Museum Established. Once in Australia, he decided to make his home there. In 1828 he suggested, and in 1832 procured, the establishment of a local museum, which was housed first in the old Bent Street post office and then over the Council Chamber in Macquarie Street. His chief work, however, outside the office, was connected with plants and stock, insects now taking a back seat and being regarded, apparently, merely as pests that might attack his new favourites. 

Darling gave him a 50 acre block at Elizabeth Bay, which he turned into “a botanist’s paradise.” To quote his visitor, Joseph Hooker: and so varied a series of visitors as Alan Cunningham, George Bennett (first investigator of the platypus and discoverer of the New Britain cassowary), the Quaker missionary James Backhouse, and Robert Lowe, were equally loud in its praise. 

Aid of His Sons. Darling had given him the Elizabeth Bay grant deliberately for horticulture; for farming and stock-breeding he granted a 2500-acre block on the South Coast near Ulladulla, and Macleay himself bought a third estate of 15,000 acres at Brownlow Hill near Camden, where he gardened and grew fruit-trees on a larger scale. After retirement from office he gave his whole attention to these various enterprises, and in 1839 brought out his eldest son, William Sharp Macleay, to carry on the Elizabeth Bay garden; the second son, George, had already come out in 1827, and after accompanying Charles Sturt down the Murray, had settled at Brownlow Hill and taken over the immediate superintendence of the experiments made there. It was time the old man had some relief; he was 70 when he left office under the Governor and nearly 80 when he retired from the Speakership, but was still lively enough to go visiting Port Macquarie and talking Gaelic with Scottish settlers there. A year later he was returning from a formal call on Governor Fitzroy when his horses bolted and the carriage collided with a pillar of Government House gates; the shock was too much for him, and he died next day. 

On the occasion of the Macleay Centenary in 1920 the Sydney Morning Herald commented: 

An early record was contained in a letter written by Mrs. Macleay to their son, William S. Macleay, then in Cuba, in which she stated
that the recreation of her husband (at that time Colonial Secretary) consisted in going out before breakfast or after 5 o’clock, “sometimes to a place called Elizabeth Bay,” where he had received a grant of between 50 and 6O acres, and was making a garden, and proposed to build a home. This garden attracted many distinguished visitors, notably Sir Joseph D. Hooker, who described it as “a botanist’s paradise”; Alan Cunningham; Mrs. Lowe, wife of Robert Lowe (afterwards Lord Sherbrooke), Mrs. Lowe writing of it as one of the most perfect places she had ever seen; and Professor Huxley, who became a friend of William Sharp Macleay, and wrote of his “beautiful place near Sydney.” 

For several years there was confusion about the house’s designer, however, it is now acknowledged as the work of the accomplished colonial architect, John Verge, and his design partner John Bibb, who modified an imported design to the requirements of Macleay and, one suspects, the local environment. Verge also designed Rockwall, Tusculum and Goderich Lodge. Macleay appears to have received the design plans by 1832, however, its commencement was delayed until 1835. It was not inhabited until 1839, possibly reflecting Macleay’s loss of his civil servant position and his ongoing financial problems. 

In 1842 New South Wales experienced its first economic bust, primarily because of land and stock speculation and a sustained drought. Several leading business and land owners declared bankruptcy. Alexander Macleay had placed himself in a precarious financial situation with Elizabeth Bay House, and seemingly had no option than to sell part of his land. In 1841, the first of the estate’s subdivisions was made to the Gordon family who built Manar Cottage on Macleay street. In late 1844, Elizabeth Bay House was mortgaged to Hastings Elwin, the manager of the Trust Company. Fortunately Macleay’s eldest son, William, had maintained various international civil service positions and had the means to assist his father with loans. In 1845 William was forced to take over management of the family finances. His father, after less than six years in the yet unfinished house, moved with his wife, Eliza, and unmarried daughter, Kennethina, to live at his country property, Brownlow Hill, Camden Park. He died in 1848. 

Another son, William Sharp Macleay (pictured), continued his father’s work in the Linnaean Society and was a noted entomologist. Alexander Macleay’s nephew, Sir William John Macleay, also developed what became known as the ‘Macleay Collection.’ 

History does not record Alexander Macleay as a happy man. Scottish by birth, dour by reputation, he was conservative and no doubt plagued by the downturn of his financial situation. He immersed himself in his passion for entomology, botany and the beautification of the estate. 

Public Servant and Diarist, George Boyes’ description of the Macleay Family in 1826 is not flattering. 

Mr McCleay (sic) is a short corpulent man…sixty years of age, somewhat of a bustling body for his time
of life, resembling…an Amsterdam Burgomaster of Civic importance. He has passed his life in the Transport House with a good salary, but not sufficiently liberal to admit the accumulation of a portion for his daughters and they have all grown up on his hands. He is an honest looking man for a Scotsman, good humoured and shakes hands with everybody as if he was glad to see them. The young ladies , as they are called by courtesy, are six in number. The eldest grown in years and desperation under repeated disappointments in matrimonial speculations, 

endeavors to revenge the neglect and indignity offered by the men to their charms by doing all in their power to inflict their younger sisters upon them, but….these girls…. have no fortune, and therefore I suspect the business and their hopes will terminate in a little flirtation…… 

They are all short square built women and, I suspect, a little bowlegged like their papa – however this is quite entre nous. 

The colours of their hair varies from sandy to the deep red tone of half vitrified brick – the former Maman calls auburn, the latter chestnut. They are very much alike in countenance as well as person, except that one looks and speaks as if she was engaged in polishing up the old ivory settlers in the interior with a peach stone. They dress too with the utmost attention to uniform. 

Mrs McCleay (sic) can’t be much younger than her husband. She is also fat and square – a very Heidelberg Tun (a barrel). I found she disliked the country much and the people a little. She had an unconquerable aversion to every creature that had the misfortune to be there. I must tell you that the poultry and meat of this colony are just the finest in the world but she complained that nothing could be procured but skinny fowls, lean ducks, half-starved geese….and never a turtle fit for the spit. 

One intriguing feature of the house is that the main axis of the house is aligned with the winter solstice. Though no documents are known to discuss this feature, it is not likely to be an accident. A rear service wing (since demolished) contained a kitchen, laundry and servants’ accommodation, and a large stables (also demolished) was sited elsewhere on the estate. A design for a proposed bathing pavilion imitated the Tower of the Winds in Athens. The pavilion was intended for the extremity of nearby Macleay Point, facing Rushcutters Bay and which was poetically named Cape Sunium after the peninsula east of Athens with its picturesque ruined temple. 

As for his legacy, Alexander Macleay left behind him no written work (apart from a garden inventory book held by the Mitchell library), no definite discovery like Ridley’s stripper or Hargrave’s box kites with which his name might be permanently connected. Even his wonder-garden at Elizabeth Bay disappeared, the taxation of suburban land in the ‘70s under Henry Parkes becoming too heavy to allow such valuable land to lie open; houses sprang up where the world’s rarest plants had flourished in white sand, and only the old house still stands “in a sadly restricted garden-plot.” 

William Sharp has to his credit two or three scientific monographs, written before he reached Australia. George returned to England. The Macleay tradition in New South Wales shifted to a nephew, William John Macleay, who had come out with the other William in 1839, and it is this nephew whom men chiefly remember (quite deservedly) when one mentions the name. But Alexander was the patriarch and the fountainhead of the tradition; it is his collections which form the nucleus of the Macleay Museum at the University of Sydney; it was his wealth which enabled the nephew who inherited it to endow Australian research. One of Macleay’s lesser claims to fame was in correctly debunking the myth of the bunyip. When presented with a ‘bunyip skull’ in the late 1840s he revealed it was nothing more than a horse’s head. 

We should celebrate that this fine colonial building remains – there was a time when the vandals, including the City Council and State Government, would have had it demolished, or as a final insult, turned into flats.. Its grand neighbor, equally beautiful Roslyn Hall (below left), was demolished in 1937 and its stone taken away to build flats. Neighbour Kenilworth House (below right) , built 1869, remains part of St. Luke’s Hospital. 

Roslyn Hall 

Elizabeth Bay House ownership and tenancy line
((Historic time-line prepared from material contained in Elizabeth Bay House: A History & Guide. Scott Carlin. Historic Houses Trust) 

Alexander Macleay (owner)
William Sharp Macleay (owner) 1845-1865 

Alexander’s eldest son. Lived alone at the house for twenty years following his family’s departure. It must have been rather bleak since he had sold most of the furniture to alleviate family debts (the majority of the contents went to furnish Government House in 1845). 

George Macleay (owner/absentee landlord) 1865-1891 

Inherited a life interest under his brother William’s will, however, he left the colony in 1859 to live in the south of France. He was the first to subdivide the estate. 

William John and Susan Macleay (tenants) 1865-1903 

Became William’s tenants in 1865, living in the house until their deaths in 1891 and 1903 respectively. In 1875 they acquired three parcels of land in a sub-division sale. William Macleay, following in the footsteps of Alexander Macleay, also established an extensive natural history and entomological collection which eventually became the Macleay Museum Collection. 

James William Macarthur Onslow (owner) 1891-1911 

Arthur Onslow, nephew of George Macleay and heir by descendancy, predeceased George so the house passed to his eldest son, James William Macarthur Onslow. Lady Macleay resided in the house until her death. Major repairs and improvements were undertaken during his ownership, including the installation of gas and upgraded plumbing. There was also considerable rebuilding to provide the house with a more finished look. 

George Michaelis Tenant) 1903-1911 

Following Lady Macleay’s death, Macarthur Onslow leased the house to the prominent Jewish community leader, George Michaelis. He resided there with his wife and three children, and his parents-in-law. 

George Michaelis (owner) 1911-1926. In 1911 Michaelis purchased the house for eight thousand pounds. He sold in 1926. 

Old Residence Sold. (Sydney Morning Herald 7 Oct 1926) 

One of the largest sales of residential property was completed last week when Elizabeth Bay House, situated with frontages to Onslow-avenue and Billyard- Avenue, Elizabeth Bay and surrounded by grounds exceeding three acres in area was disposed of. Elizabeth Bay House has a most interesting history, and was built in 1828. The vendor was Colonel George Michaelis. The name of the purchaser is not disclosed. The price was £42,500, and R. V. Dimond, of l18 Pitt-street, was the agent who conducted the negotiations 

Sir Sydney Snow (owner) 1926-1926
Purchased for forty-thousand pounds and sold in the same year for sixty thousand. 

Historic House Sold. (Sydney Morning Herald 19 Sept 1927) 

There was an attendance of more than 600 at the sale in subdivision of the historic Elizabeth Bay House and grounds at Elizabeth Bay on Saturday afternoon. The home was built by Mr Alexander Macleay, at one time Colonial Secretary. In 1817, and at his death in 1848 the property passed to his eldest son, William Sharp Macleay, who resided there until his death in 1865. Sir George Macleay, a younger son, then inherited the property. Mr. William Macleay, afterwards Sir William, a nephew of Mr Alexander Macleay, lived at Elizabeth 

Elizabeth Bay House

Bay House until 1891, and Lady Macleay resided there for some years after his death. On the death of Sir George Macleay the property was willed to Colonel Onslow, but Lady Macleay continued in occupancy until her death in 1903. Thus this old home was continuously in occupation by members of the Macleay family from 1817 to 1903. 

Mr Keith Stanton (Stanton and Sons, Ltd) occupied the rostrum at Saturdays sale, and associated with him in the conduct of the sale was
Mr C H Crammond, managing director of Richardson and Wrench Ltd. The land, which at one time formed the gardens surrounding the home, was subdivided into 15 building blocks and these were offered first. Lots 1 to 6, with frontages to Onslow-avenue, and also frontages to Billyard Avenue, and having a picturesque outlook over the harbour, caused keen competition. Lot 3, with a selling frontage of 50 feet, and possessing 8315 square feet was sold at £150 a foot-a record price for land in subdivision in this district. Lot -I, with a selling frontage of 6O feet and possessing 7617 square feet was sold at 125 pounds a foot. Lot 5 with 61 selling feet and 6766 square feet, found a buyer at £110 a foot. Lots 1 and 2 were first offered as one block and passed in at £145 a foot. They were then offered 

separately each with 50 feet selling frontage and 107 and 102 feet depth respectively. Lot 1 realised £80 a foot, and lot 2 sold at £70 a foot. Lot 6 was passed in at £98 a foot. The inside lots-lots 7-15 were next offered. Lot 7 was passed in at £86 a foot Lot 8 was passed in at 87/10 per foot. Lot 9 was sold at £S0 n foot, and lot 10 at £00 a foot. Lot 11 was passed in at 47 a foot. Lot 12 was passed in at 78 a foot. Lot 13 was passed in at £77/10/ a foot. Lot 14 was sold at £90 a foot and lot 15 £80 a foot. 

The house, which stands on an island block in the centre of the grounds, with Onslow avenue running round the premises, was next offered. Competition was keen, and finally the property was passed in at £12.010 but was sold immediately after the sale for 14,000. The house and allotments sold realised a total of £57,609. The sale was considered to be highly satisfactory. Before submitting the house to competition, the auctioneer stated that the vendors 

had decided that the entrance gates to the house and grounds, which had been in position since the house was built nearly 100 years ago, would be handed over to the trustees of Vaucluse House to be erected at one of the entrances to that historic spot. The massive brass lock to the front doors of the house, the only one of its kind in Australia, would be handed over to the University for preservation in the Architectural Museum. 

Elizabeth Bay Estates limited (owner) 1926-1940 

A development company with an interest in the land and possibility of converting the house to flats. In 1927 the final sub-division was held converting the last three acres into 16 lots. Only five of the sixteen lots sold. Between 1928-1935, believe it or not, the house became an artist’s squat. It was very run-down, the electricity had been cut off and its future uncertain. 

Mr. and Mrs. A.. Hall and Mrs Linnett (lease) 1935-1940 

Relief came when the house was renovated and redecorated as a venue for wedding receptions and social dinners. The 19th century bookcases were removed to allow for a small ballroom. 

Even in the 1930s calls for preservation were ringing. 

Lady Wakehurst Saw Elizabeth Bay House Yesterday. Hopes That It Will Be Preserved (Sydney Morning Herald 15 June 1937) 

Lady Wakehurst, yesterday morning, made an informal visit to Elizabeth Bay House. For an hour she inspected the building with Mrs. Dangar and Mrs. Victor White. She was impressed by the loveliness of the building and the views from its windows, and expressed the opinion that it should be preserved. 

“It would be a terrible pity if this place were lost. Such a building in this glorious setting and with its background of history is an asset to any city, and I think it would be a shame if it were not kept for all time. I hope that it will be preserved,” said Lady Wakehurst. In April last, Mrs. Rodney Dangar conceived the idea of buying the house and presenting it to the nation as a 150th Anniversary Memorial. Since then, many well-known Sydney people society women, social workers, university women, historians – have all given their opinions. “It must be preserved.” 

“I am told that most people always admire that first,” said Lady Wakehurst, pointing to the beautiful cantilever staircase rising from the hall to the floor above. “I think it is very graceful and lovely, but those wide bay windows have taken my fancy. I have not seen anything to equal them before, and did not expect to see such perfect examples in Australia, “The whole atmosphere of the house is quiet and charming, and there is a true old-world feeling about the big rooms and the graceful arches. Only one word, however, would describe the view from the front windows, and that word is “heavenly“. Lady Wakehurst also thought that Elizabeth Bay House would be excellent as a museum for objets d’art. 

Before she left she stoodon the land across the road in front of the house and discussed the external appearance of the building with Mrs. Dangar. The executive committee, which has been formed to collect money with which to buy the property, includes Mrs. Rodney Dangar, Lady Owen, and Mrs. Victor White. The committee will meet this week to discuss plans, and a public meeting will then be called. This meeting will be held at Elizabeth Bay House. 

Evangeline Olga Murray (owner) 1940-1963
1940. Elizabeth Bay House Sold. (Sydney Morning Herald 13 Dec 1940) 

Conversion to Flats. Elizabeth Bay House, well known in recent years for its wedding receptions and other social functions, will shortly be converted into a block of residential flats. 

The property was sold by Elliott and Co., King’s Cross, on behalf of the vendors, Elizabeth Bay House Estates, Ltd., to an investor. 

Terms of sale have not been disclosed, nor has it yet been decided whether the building will be demolished and a new block of flats erected, or whether the present structure will be remodeled. It was stated yesterday that the rooms of the building generally are so large that most of them would be sufficient for a self-contained flat dwelling. 

Sold to the wife of real estate agent James Daniel Murray who subdivided the house into fifteen self-contained flats. 

Scott Carlin, author of the Historic Houses Trust’s history of Elizabeth Bay House (a source plundered for this work) suggests these alterations “were carried out quite sympathetically, with little damage to the original fabric of the house. Mrs Murray furnished the flats with antique furniture, in deference to the age and quality of the house, and perhaps as a reflection of the social status the house retained, even in decline.” 

Artist, Donald Friend, occupied the flat in the former morning room in 1941-1942. Cumberland County Council/State Planning Authority (owners) 1963-1977 

In August 1963 the house was purchased from the estate of the late Mrs Murray by the Cumberland County Council. The Council was abolished in 1972 and the property came under the State Planning Authority. 

Elizabeth Bay House Trust (caretaker) 1975-1981) 

In 1973 the State Planning Authority announced plans to restore the house which would be then leased to the new Sydney City Council as a semi-public space which, somehow or other, included a residence for the Lord Mayor!
In 1976 the newly elected Neville Wran Government argued for a more public use of the house and the standing agreement between the Planning and Environment Commission (who had inherited the house from the State Planning Authority) and the Sydney City Council, was set aside and the house placed under the Elizabeth Bay House Trust. 

Historic Houses Trust (caretaker) 1981 onwards. 

Elizabeth Bay House opened to the public as a museum in 1977, with James Broadbent as its first curator. In 1981 it became part of the newly established Historic Houses Trust. Today Elizabeth Bay House still dominates the precinct, sitting proudly as testament to one man’s vision and determination. It is part of Sydney’s Living Museums Collection and open to the public. It also hosts special events including weddings, private parties and heritage programs.

 Elizabeth Bay Harbour – (Illustrated Sydney News. 24 June 1876) 

Elizabeth Bay Harbour (illustrated below) has attained such a wide celebrity for its scenery, no less than for its capabilities as a place of entire security to vessels at anchor within it, that no apology is needed for our illustrating one of its numerous beauties. To those who are in the habit of making water excursions in the harbour it is not needful to describe this lovely spot, but, for the information of those who may not be so conversant with the numerous indentations of the harbour, we may point out that Elizabeth Bay is situated between Rushcutter’s Bay and Pott’s Point. The bay is on a small scale, and therefore may frequently pass unnoticed, but it will well repay anyone who will take the trouble to pay it a visit. 

In 1875 William John Macleay, then residing with his wife, Susan, at Elizabeth Bay House,
led an expedition to New Guinea at the time of the island’s proposed annexation from Britain. Macleay was keen to collect ornithological specimens for his collection. The ship they
were to travel on, the barque Ceveret, a retired and commissioned French made man-of-war, was purchased by Mr Macleay and moored in Elizabeth Bay. It created much attention from the citizens of Sydney. 

Another fanciful early drawing of boating at Elizabeth Bay with the Macleay house in the distance.

The original Elizabeth Bay Reserve, comprising a much smaller area, was named Beare Reserve in 1888 after John Beare, alderman from 1881 to 1899. The park was enlarged in 1901 when James William Macarthur-Onslow formally transferred the land above the high-water mark to Council. More land was added in 1954 with the resumption of parts of the grounds of “Holmesby” (104 Elizabeth Bay Road) and J C Williamson’s “Tudor” (106 Elizabeth Bay Road). In 1980 Council acquired 1-3 Ithaca Road, comprising the former tennis court and part of the gardens of “Boomerang”, built in 1926. 

Elizabeth Bay Social Round-up 

If Potts Point was considered snobby in the latter half of the 19th century, Elizabeth Bay, being a defined and tightly- held area, was more so. As the Macleay Estate was subdivided, the suburb took shape around the beautiful bay. Mansions were built and new trends in architecture explored. In the early 20th century grand homes were still being built however luxurious apartment blocks were more popular as space became a consideration in real estate. 

The history of Elizabeth Bay House also contributed to the area’s sense of self-importance. Change of ownership had also seen the house’s fortune change and it continued to be a subject of fascination for Sydneysiders curious about how the other half lives. 

It is interesting to speculate on how the house functioned as a wedding reception venue. Mrs A.A. Hall was described as a ‘châtelaine’ which, essentially, is a women who controls a castle or very large house. Going by the number of references to Mrs Hall in the social press of the 1930s, she certainly deserved this accolade. Dinners, event parties and weddings were the main business of the house during her tenancy. 

Foods People Really Like! (Australian Women’s Weekly 7 Aug 1937) 

Some Well-known Hostesses Reveal Their Preferences. What foods do people eat? Interest in the question has been stimulated by The Australian Women’s Weekly £500 Recipe Competition. Well known hostesses who were asked for their favourite recipes displayed a variety of food preferences. Mrs. A. A. Hall, châtelaine of Elizabeth Bay House, setting for many brilliant social functions, has selected this elaborate sweet as her favourite recipe: 

‘We make an eau de nil collared basket of sponge sugar, and on the handle is tied a true-lovers’ knot or bunch of flowers as a decoration, also made of sponge sugar. The basket is filled with layers of ice cream and Jarganel pears. The top is covered with whipped cream and garnished with strawberries. The Jarganel pears are then placed around the dish on which the basket stands. The pears should be peeled whole and the stems left on and stewed with Maraschino cherry juice until they are a nice pink shade. This sweet is delicious, most effective, and well worth the effort. It is particularly nice for weddings and formal dinners.” 

Twenty-One Bachelors To Organise Charity Ball (Sydney Morning Herald 27 Nov 1937) 

The ball, given by twenty-one bachelor hosts at Elizabeth Bay House during the Spring Racing Carnival, was one of the gayest social events in Sydney for a long time, and some of the bachelors are among the 21 who will organise a ball to be held at the Trocadero on December 23, to raise funds for the Sydney Industrial Blind Institution. 

Roslyn Hall  was the other significant colonial mansion in Elizabeth Bay. It was said to have a circular staircase wide enough “for a horse drawn carriage” and a mysterious ‘sunken bath’. 

Progress of the Suburbs. (Sydney Morning Herald 1 Nov 1913) 

Chief amongst the principal properties that were built at Elizabeth Bay was “Roslyn Hall,” with its extensive and elaborately finished frontage to Macleay-street. The house was a large, well-built mansion, with a spiral staircase, constructed of cast iron, leading to the first floor. The rooms were each spacious, well-finished, and elaborately-furnished apartments. Each of the principal bedrooms had a bath of its own, built level with the floor, and a person wishing to bathe had to follow the Scriptural injunction and go down into the water instead of climbing up into the bath as is the present-day custom. This system of putting in baths to the main bedrooms and building them level with the floor was one adopted in most of the mansions around Sydney erected in the early days. At “The Rangers” at Mosman and other large dwellings the remains of such a system of bath building 

are still visible. For “Roslyn Hall it may be claimed to have been at one time one of ‘the most fashionable houses around Sydney. The land extended on the south-east to the site of what is now St. Canice’s Church, with Roslyn Gardens and Roslyn-road on the east; while on the north the grounds extended to Elizabeth Bay-road. In area there were 9 acres 1 rood to this property. It was a grant to a Mr. T. Barker, dated November !8, 1833. Mr. Barker built the house, and lived there for a time. Mr. Ambrose Hallen was the architect. Surrounding Roslyn Hall a number of other large and fashionable dwellings were erected. There was “Eaton, with its old-fashioned wooden pump, which Mr. Dowling, in his description of the district, states was situated at the bottom of the private road, and served two cottages, which were erected by Mr. T. W. Smart next to “Eaton.” Then there was “Cheverells,” part of the Macleay grant, where Captain Deloitte and Mr. David Jones (of David Jones and Co.) respectively lived. Later the house was occupied by the Hon. W. R. Campbell. “Barncleuth,” which adjoined Roslyn Hall, was occupied at one time by Mr. Henry Moore, who was the local agent for the P. and O. Company. It will he interesting to note that in those days the vessels of the P. and O. Company arrived here only once a month, and their arrival was generally noted by the firing of a gun from Fort Denison, and Barncleuth, Mr. Dowling states, was later purchased by Mr. Amos, a well-known railway contractor, and by him was named Kenneil. It is now a boarding-house. Then there was that well-known residence, Greenknowe, which Mr. John Gilchrist, senior partner in the firm of Gilchrist, Watt, 

and Co., erected in 1810, under the supervision of Mr. James Hume, one of Sydney’s leading architects. Mr. Gilchrist occupied the house for a number of years. Finally, it was purchased by Mr. F. H. Dangar, who still owns it. Larbert Lodge was built and occupied by Mr.-C. D. Riddell, the then Colonial Treasurer. 

By the late thirties Kings Cross had assumed a certain
confused status where it distanced itself from Potts Point.
Elizabeth Bay (as seen in the following article) and Potts Point
were often referred to as Kings Cross – as if Darlinghurst Road and a handful of lane ways had decided to dominate the area. There were many laments for the changing of the guard. 

(Kellett House built on the 3 acre Samuel Perry 1831 land grant. This depiction circa 1870s. An impressive neighbour to Roslyn Hall.)

Ghosts in Crinolines. (Sydney Morning Herald 30 Nov 1937)
A GREAT effort is required to imagine that King’s Cross, the present throbbing centre of Sydney’s night life, was once sparsely dotted with 

stately homes, where demure ladies drove leisurely through private avenues of trees in their carriages. 

These were the days when land was owned by the acre. To-day, despite stout resistance to the demolishes’ picks, century old homes are being knocked down so that the task of converting King’s Cross into a swarming, human ant-hill may proceed unimpeded. Roslyn Hall and Orwell House are already man-made ruins, and a similar fate awaits Kellett House, Springfield, and Larbert Lodge. But before modern mammoth structures completely annihilate even the memory of their long lives, these last survivors of a bygone age merit at least a brief obituary. 

Once the most imposing of them all, Roslyn Hall is now a lamentable spectacle. Its floors have been ripped out and the back and front pulled down. Stripped of its former majesty it now confronts, over wrought-iron gates, a huge, nearly completed, ultra-modern seven-story block
of flats across the road. Destruction and construction have kept pace, so that the final brick of the new edifice, which dwarfs everything else nearby, will be laid at almost the same moment as the last stone from the ancient dwelling is carted away. Gilded dados and wallpapers of a chaste design are exposed to curiosity, while a few surviving trees and shrubs huddle together in the northern end of the grounds, sighing mournfully for other days. 

Roslyn Hall, or what is left of it, is a relic of the spacious times of King’s Cross and Elizabeth Bay when Governor Darling made grants with a lavish hand. That to Thomas Barker, on November 28, 1833, was an area of five acres one rood, and on it he built Roslyn Hall. An iron lattice gate opened on to Darlinghurst Road, opposite Springfield House. It was the entrance to land which sloped down to the south- east, taking in the present Roslyn Street and Roslyn Gardens. A similar gate, on the site now occupied by St. Canice’s Church, led out to Bayswater Road. On the north, Barncleuth (now Kinneil) and Elizabeth Bay Road marked the boundary of the domain. 

A large, well-built, two-story stone mansion, Roslyn Hall was flanked on two sides by high verandahs supported by massive stone columns. Among the amenities not usual in these days were a beautiful spiral staircase leading to the upper story, and sunken baths level with the floors in most of the bedrooms. 

Houses in the district were few and far apart but, because of its imposing architectural and elevated position, Roslyn Hall had a grandeur equalled only by that of its neighbour, Elizabeth Bay House. 

For many years Roslyn Hall was one of the gayest houses in Sydney. Its high halls echoed to the laughter of dancing throngs, and birds in the widespread grounds became accustomed to the light-hearted chatter at fashionable garden parties. 

After the original owner, Thomas Barker, the house saw a succession of occupants, including Mrs. Wm. Lawson and her two daughters, a Mr. Chauvel, and the Hon. Wm Macleay. For the last quarter of a century, however, Echo had little to answer except the footsteps of
a lonely woman, Mrs. Parry Long, who died there a few years ago after her daughter had predeceased her. Now the grey old stone is being carted away to make room for the foundations of a resplendent block of flats. 

In the late twenties many affluent country people purchased city flats as their pied a Terre, which translates from the French as ‘foot on the ground’ – a small apartment in the city used on a casual basis. The 2011 area was the obvious choice for most people as it’s precincts were conveniently close to the city, transport and recreational destinations like the racecourse, beach and harbour. It didn’t take too long for newspapers and magazines to emulate what had already happened in cities like New York, London and Paris – social reporting on the rich, famous and infamous. 

The nineteen thirties saw dramatic change for Elizabeth Bay as the ‘new craze’ for living in flats attracted eager developers. Mansion after mansion disappeared to be replaced by high-rise apartment blocks. 

It is interesting to speculate why apartment living became so desirable. The first flats actually started being built in the first decade of the twentieth century, however, their real popularity came in the late nineteen twenties and post Depression years. To most Australians the idea of living in apartments, high in the sky, was ridiculous, if not dangerous. In the first part of the century inventions had changed many household duties providing many women with considerably more leisure time. They also needed less household space. New inventions for household cleaning, food preparation, personal hygiene, storage, cookery and clothes washing were announced with alarming regularity. Compact apartment living was promoted as modern and many women saw themselves as part of a new modern era and wanted to be distanced from the drudgery of the past. 

Newspapers seemed fixated on flat life. Property writers reported on the extraordinary high prices being paid (imagine purchasing a flat in Elizabeth Bay for eight hundred pounds!), announcements about new blocks being built (never mind the stately old mansions going under the wrecker’s ball), and, of course, the social writers observing the peculiar habits of flat dwellers. Many of the social writers glamorised flat living as they covered dinner parties, cocktail parties, overseas guests and all manner of gossip. Talk of Lord and Lady Muck tantalised the masses and more and more looked to apartment living as their ticket to social acceptance and fame. 

There was a spurt of flat building in the latter half of the ‘Roaring Twenties’ reflecting Australia’s strong economic results, especially from rural and factory growth, however, when the Great Depression struck, and it struck Sydney particularly hard in 1930, many building projects were halted, shelved or sold for a fraction of their worth. Four year’s later work resumed in earnest and many important art deco buildings appeared. 

Many of the newspaper and magazine reports fixated on the convenience of flat life and go into detail to describe room layout, plumbing arrangements and design elements. 

Spacious Days Long Ago. New Flats for Old Mansions by W. G. Cassidy (Sydney Morning Herald 23 July 1938) 

Almost daily references appear in the newspapers to inconvenient and narrow streets at King’s Cross, Potts Point, and Elizabeth Bay. Eighty or ninety years ago allotments in this district were measured, not by frontages of so many feet, but in acres. On them stood mansions- which almost without exception were white. Their green venetian blinds protected the French polish and brocade within from the colonial sun. Grounds were laid out as gardens with broad lawns and plantations not only of native trees and shrubs, but of exotic flowers, vines, and fruit trees. One early writer called it the “west end” of Sydney, and added that, as might have been expected in the Antipodes, it lay to the east of the town. In these mansions with their broad pleasure grounds orchards, and rabbit warrens one finds the cause of the “haphazard planning” and “piecemeal subdivision” which are now troubling our City Council. As land became more valuable the owners gradually sold portions 

of their estates. Invariably the original mansion was left standing and surrounded with narrow streets or lanes to provide access to it and to make the greatest possible amount of frontages for subdivision purposes. Barncleuth, Maranamah and Cheverells were built on portions of the Macleay Estate. The story of this property is a good illustration of the process of change from mansion and garden to flatland. 

In 1841, Macleay sold a number of allotments along Macleay Street and along the carriage way. Barncleuth (Kinneil). Cheverells, Maranamah, Greenknowe, Larbert Lodge, and two small houses were built. The first three are still standing, although with considerable renovations and additions. Kinneil, grounds are not as spacious as they were once. Originally, they extended to Barncleuth Square. Later, when the boundary had been moved further north, Amos Lane was formed. It provided access to the coach-house and kitchen yard. Incidentally, by a description in 1801, the grounds at the rear comprised “stable and fowl yards, cow paddock, playground, with swings and several picturesque walks and shrubberies.” Greenknowe stood in a large block of land facing Macleay Street. When it was demolished about 20 years ago and the land subdivided, Greenknowe Avenue was formed. Similarly, after the recent sale of the Larbert Estate Larbert Avenue was formed. Both are short dead-end streets, serving only the allotments of the subdivisions for which they were made. 

Elizabeth Bay Flats (Sydney Morning Herald 3 July 1934) 

A building to be known as Adereham Hall, which will contain 25 flats, is nearing completion at Elizabeth Bay-road, Elizabeth Bay. The building, which is fireproof, is being conducted on the concrete column and beam system with 11-inch cavity walls. This gives the maximum size possible to all rooms throughout the whole of the nine stories, which is to be the final height. Each flat has been designed to give a splendid uninterrupted view of the harbour, whilst due consideration has been given to the provision of sunlight and air. There will be central heating and hot water service. Each flat will be provided with refrigeration and easy access to the central incinerator. The ground floor has 

a spacious entrance hall and reception lounge. The facade, interior, and fittings are all designed in the modernistic style. The grounds are to be laid out with extensive gardens. There will be ample garage facilities. At the waterfront there will be swimming baths, boat-sheds, and anchorage for yachts. 

Sixty-two Flats. New Block at Elizabeth Bay. (Sydney Morning Herald 20 April 1937) 

Seven-story Building. A block of 62 flats is to be erected at the corner of Roslyn avenue and Barncleuth-square;- Elizabeth Bay. The building will be of seven stories. The architecture will be modern, with a Scandinavian influence predominating. The building will be L-shaped, giving all the flats, except, three on each floor, a north-easterly aspect, and those above the first floor a view of the harbour. There will be nine flats on each floor above the first floor and eight flats, including a caretaker’s flat on the ground floor. A large service flat, from which meals will be delivered, is required, to any part of the building, will be provided on the ground floor. The main entrance from Roslyn- avenue will open into a large entrance vestibule, containing, among other things, an office and telephone booths. There will be two lifts. 

The building will occupy slightly more than a third of the site. The rest of the ground will comprise gardens, to which all the ground floor flats will have direct access. Tho flats will be of the bachelor type. Each flat will comprise a living-room, a bedroom, a closed-in balcony (capable of use as a dining room), a kitchen, and a bathroom. Each flat will have a refrigerator, hot water, central heating radiators, and ample electric points, and cupboards. The building will be faced externally with light coloured brick, except for sections of a darker tone. There will be a laundry and drying-room, a boiler room, a box room and a storage room for the use of tenants in the basement. The building is to be erected for Consolidated Trust Co., Ltd. Emil Sodersten is the architect. The contractor, N. Newton, has begun excavations. 

Noise was and still is a major issue with apartment living. Many people relocate to this area for the pleasures and convenience of apartment living, thinking little of the fact that it requires a 24/7 understanding and appreciation of the neighbours. Early flat dwellers must have been quite shocked to find there were actually neighbours! Even Elizabeth Bay House didn’t escape its nimbys. 

Court asked to ban noisy parties. (Canberra Times 17 Dec 1936) 

An unusual application was made in the Equity Court to-day when Raymond, Gale, of Onslow Avenue, Elizabeth Bay, sought an injunction to restrain until the hearing of a pending suit, alleged noises at social functions, held at Elizabeth Bay House. Gale complained that “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” was sung at the Elizabeth Bay home 15 times on one night. The case is part heard. 

Flat Dwellers “Touchy” (The Mercury (Hobart) 26 July 1939) 

Some persons in Elizabeth-Bay, a flat area adjacent to the cosmopolitan suburb known as King’s Cross, appear to be getting “touchy.” On Sunday Dr. Artur Schnabel, celebrated pianist, was asked by a polite, but none the less firm caretaker if he would cease practicing in his flat, as various tenants objected. Dr. Schnabel was taken aback but with a politeness similar to that of the caretaker, he said he would desist, provided radio sets in other flats were turned off. That apparently was too much to ask. Jazz and “hill-billy” noises were all right, but Dr. Schnabel’s meanderings on the keyboard got on some of the tenants’ nerves. Dr. Schnabel can, however, take consolation from the fact that there were a few music-lovers among his fellow-tenants. Some of these thought they were privileged to be able to listen to a celebrity, free of charge. Apparently the principal objector was a person who desired to while away the hours on Sunday in slumber. 

‘Birtley Towers’  is perhaps the most famous
Art Deco block in Elizabeth Bay. It was designed by renowned architect, Emil Sodersten, in 1934, and won the Sulman Prize for Architecture. For many years
the building had the reputation of having one of the best-maintained and most stunning common areas 

in the Eastern suburbs. It still looks impressive. This detailed account of its design and facilities must have excited Sydneysiders eager to reside in ‘Sydney’s largest and most modern flat building’. 

Birtley Towers was built, like many ‘phoenix’ apartment blocks in the postcode, on the site of an older house bearing the same name. In this case Birtley House (pictured above in 1927) 

Birtley Towers- £80,000 Flat Building. (Sydney Morning Herald 21 March 1933) 

The construction of Birtley Towers In Elizabeth Bay-road for which it was announced in last Tuesdays building column tenders are being called and which is illustrated in to-days issue will cost £80 000. It is claimed to be the biggest building operation with the exception of Government work to be undertaken during the past three years. Containing 54 flats it is expected to be one of Sydney’s largest and most modern flat buildings. Orders were given for the preparation of the plans when the Steven’s Government was returned to power last year and they are now complete. The architect, Mr Emil Sodersten, expects work to be commenced very shortly. The building will be erected on the site of the old home known as Birtley, in Elizabeth Bay-road 

There will be nine stories each containing six self-contained flats. There will be two lifts, incinerators for garbage accessible from each flat, and other modern improvements. Construction will occupy about l8 months, and should 

provide employment directly and indirectly for from 300 to 400 men. Mr. Sodersten is one of the architects for the National War Memorial at Canberra. 

Ashdown – Elizabeth Bay Road. (Construction & Real Estate News 28 Sept 1938) 

Architect: A. M. Bolot. Builder: E. George. In the construction of this building a departure from accepted practice has been made in that all the external walls are 9 inches solid brickwork, waterproofing and cement rendering being relied upon instead of cavity work. The building is of seven floors, and accommodates 36 flats and three penthouses on the roof with roof gardens, while there is accommodation for 30 cars in the basement. It is equipped with hot water, refrigeration, garbage destruction, etc 

In 1944 Ashdown was sold lock, stock and 40 apartments for fifty thousand pounds. Someone definitely got a bargain!

The media took a keen interest in the changeover from mansion to new flat developments. Newspapers had
a regular ‘building and construction’ page and there were specialist building and architectural magazines. Architects were certainly experimenting with design and construction and especially so in the 2011 precincts. The unstable years of the 1930s, especially post Depression, witnessed some very adventurous buildings, many in Elizabeth Bay where, presumably, budgets were not so restricted. 

The Vanderbilt. (Construction & Real Estate Jl 13 May 1936) 

These flats, which are strikingly modern in design, are situated in Barncleuth Square, Elizabeth Bay, Sydney. It will be noted that the architect has emphasised his horizontal lines, the only motif of verticality being over the main entrance, the treatment being such as to emphasise this feature of the building. The exterior is faced with brick the main field being light red and the projecting horizontal bands being of a darker colour. The jointing of the brickwork is in red mortar and it is of interest to note the raking out of the horizontal joints and the setting of the vertical bands close to further emphasise the horizontal motif of the building. 

Social and Personal (Sydney Morning Herald 3 April 1939) 

Flat at Elizabeth Bay. The Baron and Baroness de Tuyll who will arrive in Sydney to-morrow in the Orcades will stay at Elizabeth Bay where they have taken a flat at Kingslynn, Ithaca Road. 

The Vanderbilt Building (left) certainly echoed New York in Elizabeth Bay.

Meudon another Elizabeth Bay building, despite its Parisian name, appears straight out of New York. Inspired by New York’s Flat Iron Building on 5th Ave, Meudon was built in 1933. Triangular in plan, with a curved corner, the sun-rooms are echoed by slight expansion of the facade, and framing to the curved corner window, ending with a cornice at the top window. Legend has it that the original owner visited New York, drew a pencil sketch of the Flat Iron Building and returned to Sydney, handing the drawing to his architect with the instructions to “build it”. 

Meudon

Edgewater (right) offered another adventurous design. Built in 1937, its gracious art deco curves and building ornaments created quite a stir in the architectural world. 

One of the earliest Spanish Mission apartments built in Australia was Del Rio, on Billyard Avenue, in 1928. The style originated in California and evokes warmth and the seaside. The building is quite distinctive with white and blue shades, terra cotta tiling and expansive (and, yes, expensive) harbourside gardens. 

Boomerang. Without a doubt the most imposing private residence in Elizabeth Bay is Boomerang – a house with a unique history. 

Boomerang is perhaps the best surviving harbour foreshore suburban estate of its period. Designed by Neville Hampson in 1926 for Frank Albert, the pioneer music publisher, the large block was once even larger – until a former owner, of the Macarthur Onslow family, gifted the tennis courts to enable the City of Sydney to build the Kings
Cross Rotary Park extension to Beare Park. This ‘Hollywood Spanish Mission’ style dwelling and flats are of stuccoed brick with vaguely classical windows and decoration, under a terra cotta hipped roof. The exterior colour, in keeping with its mission style, is pale taupe brown. Under previous owners the interior maintained a theatrical air with rooms decorated in different styles from various historical eras. The current owner has spent considerable energy and money to restore the dignity of the house and gardens. The gardens, now mature, are an amalgamation of palm trees, shrubs and fountains with pool and boathouse. A private residence, it sold for $20.7 Million in 2005 to Lindsay Fox. It has been used as a backdrop for Hollywood movies, including Mission Impossible II, and is listed on the Register of the National Estate.

Del Rio

Home in a Million by Eileen Adderton (Australian Women’s Weekly 3 Jan 1979) 

A 50-year-old waterfront mansion on Sydney Harbour, sold for more than $1 million to an unidentified buyer, will remain in its present glory for at least the next 10 years. The sale of the house, “Boomerang,” in Billyard Avenue, Elizabeth Bay, is subject to a covenant that lays down the main building must be used as a private dwelling or as diplomatic offices for that period. The property includes 5000 square metres (1.2 acres) of land, at present occupied by the garage, tennis court and garden. “Boomerang” is one of the world’s few untouched Art Deco houses. Designed by Neville Hampson in Southern California style, it was built around 1930 for the late Frank Albert. Mr Albert, publisher of the Boomerang songbooks, was 

a radio pioneer, one of the founders of the Australian Broadcasting Company, later taken over by the ABC. He died in 1962, aged 87. Since his death, only a caretaker has lived at “Boomerang.” The property was bought last year by an investment company. 

It was due for auction on December 12, but sold privately beforehand. Neither the buyer’s name nor the price were disclosed, but the agent, L. J. Hooker, said it “exceeded $1 million.” 

A mansion empty for 16 years is eerie, although the house and gardens have been
meticulously tended. In the gardens, the courtyards, the vast entrance hall, with its
archways and pillars, only splashing fountains break the silence. Only the finest
of materials were used – travertine marble, bronze, mahogany, lacy wrought iron. The staircase with its ornate bronze handrail is like a 

Boomerang

Hollywood film set. Huge rooms have the polished floors of ballrooms., but nobody there to dance. Bedrooms have cupboard space to house a royal wardrobe. In one cupboard is a revolving hat-stand that the lady of the house can twirl without effort to take her pick. Bathrooms, with sunken baths and 10-jet showers, are decorated with Wedgwood motifs for “her,” brown and another for “him.” In the basement, a private cinema – the seats are gone, but the screen and projection room remain. 

Despite the Albert family being guarded about privacy, someone let the dogs out to ‘report’ on their bathrooms! 

Sydney’s Luxurious Bathrooms (Australian Women’s Weekly 31 May 1934) 

At “Boomerang,” Elizabeth Bay, the home of Mr. and Mrs. F. Albert, one bathroom is composed of tiles specially treated to resemble mother-of-pearl (image bottom right). The bath is sunken and reached by steps. Floor, walls, and celling are tiled with extra-large tiles brought from Holland. Mr. Alexis Albert, who recently married, when in his parents’ home had his own suite with the bathroom tiled in the colors of his college (St. Paul’s)—maroon and gold. The home also has a green tiled bathroom for guests and a grey one for the maids.

Boomerang gardens

Left; The 1868 Thomas Rowe designed Tresco (thankfully still standing) middle: St. Monica’s, home of the brewery king, John Toohey, The latter was sold in 1929 for fourteen thousand pounds. “I feel like a Tooheys”. Right: 1912 Kingsclere building. 

Kincoppal from exclusive school to harbour apartments. 

The name ‘Kincoppal’ literally means ‘Horse’s Head’
in Gaelic (Irish), the anglicisation of ‘ceann’ (head) and ‘capall’ (horse). The school, built in 1909 for the convent of the Sacred Heart, got its name from John Hughes, the original owner of the ‘Kincoppal’ property at Elizabeth Bay, who named his residence after a rock in Sydney Harbour, that, when visible from a certain view, looks like a horse’s head. When the nuns merged Kincoppal with their Rose Bay school, the property was turned to private residences. 

The late singer David Bowie lived at Kincoppal in the late eighties and his band, Tin Machine, offered a lyrical tribute in song – “The water of Elizabeth Bay was serene, its azure surface rippling with mirror-ball flashes of sunlight.” 

A little bit of heaven – for a price. (Australian Woman’s Weekly 1 April 1981) 

Towering high into the skyline, bordering the shore of Sydney Harbour and set far from the road, 93 Elizabeth Bay Crescent, Elizabeth Bay, is about as exclusive as they come. So exclusive, in fact, that it bears no name – simply the address. If you want to live here you must expect to pay from $400,000 to the magic $1 million. And what would up to $1 million buy you in this twin tower development of 54 units, with a 55th set separately in the grounds? A harbour view sweeping across Rushcutters Bay, up to Manly and across to Bradley’s Head; up to four spacious bedrooms; split-level dining area overlooking an elegantly arched sitting room; all the latest in kitchen designs; a laundry; two bathrooms; and balconies hanging off every possible vantage point. Not only that, but underground parking – two car spaces per unit, 24-hour security monitoring from remote control cameras set up around the grounds, use of a 25-metre swimming pool overlooking Rushcutters Bay 

Kincoppal

and a community cabana, housing spa, pool, and sauna. The complex is built on the original site of Kincoppal Convent School. Fifty-four of the 55 units have the same basic floor design. The 55th is something entirely different – the original Kincoppal House, built in 1875. One of the conditions Sydney City Council made when the property was bought for the development was that the house be preserved and restored along the same lines as it was built. The original three-bedroomed sandstone house exudes history, and its restoration has the same majesty as it had when it was first built. The entrance foyer is massive, the original marble leading directly to a sweeping cedar stairwell. The lounge and living areas are expansive, separated by solid cedar folding doors. The study has wall-high bookcases, with shuttered French windows looking out onto the landscaped gardens. The $1 million house sold within three weeks and the new owner, Mr Charles Lloyd Jones, calls it a perfectly suitable smaller house – after Rosemont, his former home at Woollahra. “It’s an old house and the rooms have the same proportions as those at Rosemont. There are simply fewer of them,” he said. 

Grand Affairs at Toft Monks 

Gladys Penfold Hyland was the matriarch of Australia’s two leading pioneer winemaking families. She bought Toft Monks, an ornate Edwardian mansion in 1923. It was a large house with wonderful gardens on the waterfront of Elizabeth Bay. By reports she was a generous woman and hosted many charity fund-raising functions there. Viewings of the house’s paintings and antiquities was a much-anticipated event. After a number of paintings (including four by J.M.W. Turner) had been stolen, Mrs Penfold Hyland sold Toft Monks, and in 1966, moved to a flat at Edgecliff. 

It is said that in the 1950s, Mrs Gladys Penfold Hyland never traveled without ‘Bevan the butler,’ ‘Myrtle the maid’ or her chauffeur, ‘Percy’, who wore a silver-grey uniform to match her Rolls Royce motorcars. 

Heard Here and There. (Sydney Morning Herald 3 April 1931) 

When I admired Mrs. Penfold Hyland’s green Mexican parrot, Peter, in his cage on the verandah at Toft Monks, she told me he was once quite a garrulous fellow, but hasn’t spoken since she brought him from his former home in Adelaide. The most he will do is cluck in answer to the family’s overtures 

Above: Toft Monks by Robert Jonson, Percy and one of the Rolls Royce motor cars.
Here is a deliciously over-the-top report of 1930s fashion.

Dance at Toft Monks. Rain-drenched Garden Floodlit. (Sydney Morning Herald 20 Oct 1937) 

Toft Monks, the lovely old home of Mr. and Mrs. Frank Penfold Hyland, of Elizabeth Bay, made a perfect setting for the dance held there last night in aid of Rawson Institute Missions to Seamen Appeal Week. The rain prevented the strolling guitar players and the guests from wandering into the garden, which presented a charming scene from the verandahs. Pink radiance roses, fox-gloves, and other English flowers growing in plots on the terraced lawns glistened with raindrops reflected in the glow of the flood-lights, while in the shadowy background the wet leaves or spreading palms glimmered dimly. Bowls and standards of flowers from the garden were placed in the lounge and ballroom, which are hung with such masters as Romney, Turner, and Solomon van Ruysdael. 

Mrs. Penfold Hyland (right) was assisted in receiving the guests by Lady Gordon, Miss E. Claiborne, Miss Madge Cox, and Miss Nell Knox, the organisers of the dance. Mrs. Hyland wore a gown of white satin with a matching cape, and fasteneda diamond brooch to the corsage. Deep wine satin fashioned the gown worn by Lady Gordon; Miss Claiborne placed two huge pink chrysanthemums to the corsage of her red lace frock, and Miss Cox chose a frock of cigar brown lace. 

A beautiful gown was worn by Mrs. Victor White. Of stiffened black organdy, it was covered with lacquered sprays of bright red, green, and blue flowers, and was designed with puff sleeves and the new hemlines cut above the ankles in front. Lady Gordon brought a party including her son and daughter-in-law, Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Gordon, the latter in a Princess frock of lacquered rust satin; Miss Peggy Morgan, of Wales,  who is spending a holiday with her, and wore a gown of corn gold taffeta with ruche sleeves, and Mr. Ben Sullivan. Mr. and Mrs. A. C. Davidson were accompanied by their niece, Miss Helen Davidson, and Miss
Joyce Beazley. Mrs. Davidson was in a trained gown of black Chantilly lace; Miss Davidson fastened a parma violet sash around her frock of orchid mauve chiffon; and Miss Beazley added a waist-length jacket of garnet velvet to her gown of parchment lame em-bossed with tiny garnet-coloured diamonds. 

A white ermine wrap covered the full skirted gown of ice blue taffeta chosen by Miss Parilla Laidley Dowling; Miss Margaret Burns wore a moulded gown of shot blue lame and fastened a huge spray of lily of the valley to her black velvet coat. A wide cummerbund of red, black, and white striped ribbon was tied in a big bow across the back of Miss Flora Mackay Sim’s white taffeta frock, and her sister, Miss Agnes Mackay Sim, wore a jacket of the same material over her frock of orchid blue lace, Mrs. W. E. Roberts danced in a frock of turquoise blue matelasse shirred up the centre of the bodice; bottle green lace fashioned the gown worn by Mrs. J. B. Stevenson, and chiffon scarves floated from the shoulders. 

Mrs. C. G. Moxham fastened pink carnations to her frock of pine-needles green lace, and her daughter, Mrs. John Cadwallader, wore a tailored gown of lime green moire. Mrs. Horace Sheller trimmed her black velvet gown with a long spray of green orchids and a string of pearls. Miss Nan Dibbs added a shoulder cape of boldly striped black and gold cloth to her frock of black and gold lame; Miss Agnes Williamson wore a gown of grey chiffon with a fluted train; and Miss Ann Milne wore red rosea on the corsage of her black velvet frock. 

Miss Sue Stogdale was accompanied by her fiancé, Mr. Mick Fairfax, and wore a full length coat of vivid red velvet over her simply cut frock of gold lame worked with a pastel floral design. A Grecian gown of rose pink chiffon suited Mrs. Peter Moore; Miss Sheila Currie (Victoria) wore a tunic frock of soft pink net, and adorned her coiffure with a diamante star. White orchids were set in her dark curls by Mrs. C. E. Jarcomb, of England, and her frock was of brightly patterned floral silk. With her husband Mrs. Jarcomb is staying in Sydney until next March. 

As Toft Monks came down new buildings were being erected across the suburb. 

Built in 1960 Ithica Gardens is one of Harry Seidler’s earliest apartment blocks. The ten-story building has views from every apartment. Next door, Oceania, also takes advantage of the harbour views. It has a distinctive blue-green paneled facade. One of the pleasures of Elizabeth Bay are the small inlets around the harbour front. Depending on the tide, there is a small beach area in Beare Park and the nearby marina adds to the maritime story. It was once a ferry stopping point and, hopefully, with a planned upgrade, it might possibly resume to ferry passengers across the harbour. 

The new Seidler building Oceania

The waters of Elizabeth Bay were definitely not so serene in 1933 when a prankster set the area into panic. “Water, Water Everywhere. . .” (Sydney Morning Herald 3 June 1933) 

Mysterious midnight telephone calls to flats in Elizabeth Bay, Sydney, hoaxed hundreds into believing that a water shortage as impending. Caretakers of three large blocks of flats were telephoned at 12-30 a.m. on Tuesday by a man who said he represented the Water Board and that the main had burst and supplies would be cut off for two or three days. Caretakers immediately wakened the tenants of more than 100 flats who proceeded to fill baths, dishes, saucepans, jugs and bottles. The sleepy residents sought no further explanation. Later, when they realised they had been the victims of a practical joke, they poured away water they had been hoarding amounting to thousands of gallons. 

The Ice Man Cometh… and the coke man, bread man and rabbitto. 

One of the aspects of flat life was a concern about cooking and washing facilities. It must be remembered that at the end of the 1920s most refrigerators relied on ice and ovens were usually cumbersome gas appliances. Washing was reliant on heavy copper tubs fueled by coke and gas. Drying clothes necessitated an outdoor area, usually the building rooftop. Although the twenties could rightly be called the ‘appliance decade,’ the oncoming Great Depression of the thirties restricted their availability. One of the strong selling features of flats was the list of modern appliances. 

Cooking in Flats (The Courier Mail (Brisbane) 3 May 1938) 

Several of the large flats now being erected in Sydney and immediate suburbs are being equipped with gas cookers and hot water systems. A block of 44 flats in St. Neots Avenue, Potts Point, has 44 gas cookers, 44 gas fires, several coppers, and a gas-coke hot water service. Another block of 22 flats in St. Neots Avenue will have gas cookers, gas fires, and coppers, and a gas-coke hot-water service. At King’s Cross a block of 52 flats is being erected in which gas cookers and gas fires will be installed, also several gas coppers, and a 28M Ideal magazine-fed gas- coke boiler, to supply hot water to a total of 212 points. A block of 62 flats in Elizabeth Bay Road, Elizabeth Bay, will have gas cookers and fires in each flat, also a number of gas coppers and a 28M Ideal magazine-fed gas-coke boiler. A block of 67 flats in Macleay Street has 67 gas cookers, 67 gas fires, coppers, and an Ideal magazine-fed gas-coke boiler to supply 270 points. A block of 87 flats for Mr. C. 

H. Christmas, in Macleay Street, Potts Point, will have gas cookers and gas fires in each flat, while hot water will be supplied at 350 points from a gas-coke boiler. Several gas coppers are included in the installation. 

Many people thought living in flats drove people loopy. There were a surprisingly large number of murders and suicides in the area, however, these might possibly have had something to do with the Great Depression. Privacy, especially for those on the ground floor, was a major issue, as people made the realisation that living in apartment blocks was completely different to that of the suburban block. 

One of the worst fears was that a ‘Peeping Tom’ might look through your window or enter an open door. 

Hunt for Peeping Tom. (Sydney Morning Herald 17 Feb 1941) 

Excitement at Elizabeth Bay. A man who was seen peering through bedroom windows in flats in Elizabeth Bay, early yesterday morning, was hunted by police and residents, but evaded them after an exciting chase. The man, who was wearing a blue shirt, trousers, and white sand-shoes. He first appeared at bedroom windows in Kyoto Flats, in Evans Road. Three women living in the flats saw him. Accompanied by their husbands, sons, and an AIF Force trainee, they chased the man, but he dodged into the grounds of Dr. J. King Patrick’s house opposite the flats. 

Ten of the occupants of the flats surrounded the grounds and waited for the police to arrive, but the man escaped by a side gate. Later,
the man was seen at a guest-house in Elizabeth Bay Road. Three women screamed when his head appeared at their windows. Again he escaped, but police and many residents continued the hunt for him. Soon after a “peeping Tom” was reported to be at another block of flats, and at a private hospital in the locality. He was nearly captured there, but he ran towards another guesthouse and escaped in the darkness through the grounds of St. Luke’s private hospital. Police and residents combed the neighbourhood until daylight, but the man was not seen again. 

‘Murder Mystery’ Elizabeth Bay Excitement. (Sydney Morning Herald 14 Feb 1930) 

“Murder! Come quickly, there’s been a murder!” A woman’s voice calling these words over the telephone to the C.I.B. yesterday afternoon sent Detective Keogh and Constable Thompson dashing in a fast car to an exclusive block of flats at Elizabeth Bay. They were met by the proprietress, and the tenant of a flat. “I was on the ground floor,” said the latter, “and although I didn’t actually hear shots I could smell
the gunpowder quite plainly.” It was a woman upstairs, the detectives were told, who had telephoned. Keogh raced upstairs. “Yes,” said the woman of the telephone, “I heard angry voices then two shots rang out; quite close they were, and following rapidly one after the other. Then I heard terrible screams. It sounded like a woman’s voice.” 

By this time, Sergeant Tinning, with two constables, had arrived in a P.D. car from No. 3 Division. They joined in the search, too, while
the tenants of every adjoining block of flats gaped over their balconies. Upstairs and down, the detectives searched, but nowhere could they find a trace of blood. “This is very strange,” they murmured. They had been told that a man had murdered his wife and then killed himself, but no trace could be found of the “bodies.” A search was made of the adjoining vacant scrub-land, but nothing was discovered there either. After half an hour’s investigation. Detective Keogh found that there had been a minor domestic quarrel between a man and his wife. The imagination of the other tenants had done the rest. “Another mystery solved,” sighed the detective, and returned to headquarters. 

Social life of the rich, famous and infamous was always good fodder for the Sunday papers and women’s magazines. Lost Pearls in Quest for Lady Luck. (Australian Women’s Weekly 9 May 1936) 

Quite a romantic little story lies behind the loss in Sydney recently of a string of pearls, for the recovery of which a reward of thirty pounds is now being offered. The string consists of 94 graduated pearls with a diamond snap fastener. Its value is over £250, and the owner is anxious to have it returned, as, apart from its intrinsic value, it is a much treasured gift. The owner and loser of the pearl necklace is Mrs. A. E. Hughes, of Park Lane Mansions, Waratah Street, Elizabeth Bay, a well-known figure in Sydney social circles, who also has a country home at Leura. On April 7 Mrs. Hughes entertained a party of friends at a game of cards. Her luck was right out on the night. She could not do anything right. Finally Mrs. Hughes came to the conclusion that something was her “Jonah,” and decided that it must be the string of pearls. So she took them off her neck and put them aside. 

Although she won a few hands afterwards, her luck, if it changed at all, changed for the worse, for when she looked for the string of pearls later, it could not be found. A careful search failed to reveal its whereabouts. Nothing has been heard of the pearls since, although they have been advertised for by the underwriters who presumably, have them insured. 

They may have come into the possession of someone who does not know their value, and who does not know that there is a reward of £30 for their return. 

We’re in the army now. WW2 disrupted life at Elizabeth Bay, just as it did in every suburb, however, because of its close proximity to the Woolloomooloo wharves and Garden island in particular, the suburb, like its neighbour, Potts Point, saw many of the remaining mansions converted into hospitals and military headquarters or social clubs. Kinneil (image on next page), a stately home on Elizabeth Bay Road was turned into the Kinneil Club for Australian and Allied Officers. 

Cheverells, (drawing above), another mansion house, on Elizabeth Bay Road also served wartime duty. It was headquarters of the British Women’s Auxiliary Service, the Women’s Royal Naval Service. Post war it revered to its former use as a boarding house. It was eventually demolished to make way for the Gazebo. 

Post war, the suburb cooled somewhat, as the average Australian turned towards buying a Californian bungalow-styled house with front and back garden. Life quietened in the inner city suburbs as the nation recovered from the terrible war. The 2011 suburbs, especially Elizabeth Bay and Potts Point, saw a cultural change as more and more migrants, including many single men, moved into the area. Other less salubrious elements moved in too. 

Jack Davey in Court (Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton) 24 March 1953) 

SYDNEY, Radio Identity, Jack Davey, 43, of Bellevue Hill, was one of 46 people who appeared in the Central Court today on gaming charges, following a police raid on an alleged baccarat school at Elizabeth Bay on Sunday morning. The 46 people, including nine women, were charged with having been in a common gaming house playing and betting on an unlawful game – baccarat. All pleaded not guilty and were remanded until April 23. Bail was fixed at £100 in some cases and £50 in others. Apart from the charges claiming that men and women were in a gaming house, Percy John Galea, 41, of Coogee, was charged with keeping a gaming house. 

There was also a natural disaster in the mid-fifties when a landslide resulted in the evacuation of residents. 

People forced by landslide to leave flats (Sydney Morning Herald 16 June 1955) 

Tenants have been compelled to leave some flats at Elizabeth Bay by the collapse, due to the incessant rain, of the retaining wall of a 90-year-old building. Huge boulders and tons of sand bury a portion of Bradley Lane, which divides Nirvana Flats and two other blocks of flats below. The retaining wall at the back of Nirvana flats crumbled soon after 7 a.m. yesterday, and broke through another retaining wall guarding the other flats which face Roslyn Gardens. 

Nirvana, which is in Elizabeth Bay Road, is a stone building, built by the convicts more than 90 years ago. It was first occupied by a Supreme Court Judge. The building was later converted into flatettes, now occupied by more than 20 families. Electricity and gas supplies to Nirvana were cut by the slide. Engineers who inspected Nirvana warned occupants that the southern portion of the building was likely to collapse and advised them to leave. Miss M. Wheeler, who occupies a flat in that part of the building, had her furniture removed late yesterday afternoon, and said she would leave the building until danger had passed. 

Elizabeth Bay Crescent is one of the suburb’s most interesting areas. The road loop passes substantial houses, diplomatic residences and apartment blocks. One building, Adereham Hall, is colloquially referred to as ‘Gotham City’ because of its similarity to many buildings in the Manhattan skyline and, presumably, the architectural style of the ‘Batman’ comic series. 

A PORTRAIT OF A SYDNEY SUBURB

Paddington born. Paddington Bred.
Thick in the arm and strong in the head

(old saying of George Patrick Fahey)

©

Early Paddington was comprised of gullies, sand hills, huge scattered rocks, scrub, hills, falls (later to be known as Glenmore Falls) and a lot of swampland. Today’s Paddington is a much different place, and one that salutes its past as Aboriginal land, military settlement, hospital, cheap housing, factory quarter, home to eccentrics, ‘renovator’s dream’ and supposed ‘trendy’ and expensive suburb.

What we now know as Paddington wasoriginally home to the indigenous Cadigal people. These people belonged to the Dharug (or Eora) language group, and were also the traditional owners of what is now the Sydney central business district. It is known that the ridge upon which Oxford Street was built was also a walking track used by Australian Aborigines.

Much of the Aboriginal population of Sydney was decimated by the smallpox outbreak of 1789; only one year after the First Fleet arrived in Sydney. Settler’s records from the time indicate that only three Aborigines belonging to the Cadigal tribe were left after this outbreak, however some anthropologists maintain that the tribe dispersed into other areas of the shared Eora language group. History for Aborigines living in Paddington is hard to find, but it is known that at the time when Robert Cooper began to build the first house in Paddington, there were approximately 200 indigenous people living in nearby Woolloomooloo, in huts that Governor Macquarie had built for them.

Paddington has never been a suburb with a dense Indigenous population. In the 1930s when parts of Sydney such as Redfern and Glebe became hubs for Aborigines entering the labour force, Paddington continued to be a white-man’s working suburb.

Woolloomooloo, and this will surprise many, was once the most desirable area to live but that suburbs fascinating history is another story. It was ‘killed’ by a lack of creative industriousness and over-zealous industry and, later, misguided government.

Paddington, like other inner city suburbs, grew as the Colonial government offered notable citizens ‘land grants’. Rather than ‘jobs for the boys’ it was a case of ‘plots for the boys’ – and if you were in favour you got a larger piece of land and in a suitably desirable position. In the early 1800’s Thomas West was granted land in Lecrosia Valley, now central Paddington. The land was cleared and by 1810 West had built a house and watermill and planted an orchard. The area continued to develop with the building of the road to South Head, now Oxford Street, in 1811.

Another early inhabitant, John Palmer, refused to allow people to cross his land, so the road followed a roundabout way through Paddington. It was this fact that resulted in the suburb having so many twisting roads as they tried to avoid Palmer’s property. In the 1970s local councils began closing many streets and making others one-way. Palmer would be smiling on the chaos.

In 1810 Governor Macquarie set aside 1,000 acres of land for leisure use. The area was eventually named Moore Park after Charles Moore, Mayor of Sydney 1867 – 69. In 1879 Sydney’s first public zoo was established in this park. It was relocated to Bradley’s Head in 1916. Today, Moore Park remains dedicated to recreation with tennis courts, a golf course, the Sydney Cricket Ground and Football Stadium within its boundaries.

Messrs Cooper, Forbes and Underwood (all recognisable for the streets named after them) must have been in the good books as they all received sizeable land grants.

Mr Underwood who received 100 acres, later joined Mr Cooper and Mr Forbes, to establish a distillery about 1818, in a section of Glenmore Road known as Frog Hollow. Heaving bullocks took the gin barrels up to a depot near Taylor’s Square.

It was Robert Cooper, an ex-convict, who built Juniper Hall, as his residence (the juniper berry being the main ingredient for gin). The grand house was later known as Ormond House, and was an institution for destitute children. It should also be noted that The Benevolent Society, Australia’s oldest charity, was established in Paddington.

The distillery on Glenmore Road had its ups and down, it was later sold to Mr Begg in 1860 for a tannery that, according to records, stank to high heaven. Around 1905 the Colonial Rubber Company occupied it for a few years. It was eventually demolished and replaced with terrace houses.

As the land holdings consolidated, settlers built workshops, dairies and service shops as well as residential cottages.

The suburb was named after the London borough, Paddington and is one of Australia’s oldest suburbs. The story of Paddington gives an insight into a fascinating heritage area. ‘Paddo’, as it is now affectionately known, is a tightly packed mass of terrace houses and is one of the world’s finest examples of totally unplanned urban restoration.

Early Sydneysiders liked to visit surrounding bushland and Paddington slowly became a fashionable colonial drive en route to the ocean coast but it still took most of a day for a horse dray or buggy to travel to the seaside of Bondi, Watson’s Bay or Coogee and back again. Trams changed that.

Paddington was very popular with children who collected the geebungs, five corners, native watercress and native currants in the suburb’s bushland. There were several popular picnic grounds.

The first hotel seems to have been built on the corner of Dowling & Oxford by a sergeant of the Police Force named Armstrong. At the time there was a wool washing operation in Lachlan Swamp, now Centennial Park. The bullock drivers were the hotel’s main custom.

Looking up Oxford in 1860 at around Elizabeth and Regent Streets you would have seen a muddy road, a few modest houses and the Paddington Inn (previously the United States Hotel). This was the venue for the first Paddington Council meeting! The hotel still stands on the corner of William and Oxford streets.

Paddington was also known for its Windmills used for flour and other grinding work. The first windmill was erected by the aforementioned Mr West, who supplied Governor Macquarie with ground wheat for his daily bread. West eventually closed his mill and opened a large dairy farm in Paddington.

It was the custom in 1820 and 30 that each night at 6pm a bell was tolled on College Street and Head Street (now Oxford) advising females that they were not allowed to enter the area of Paddington, at night because of the rough nature of the suburb.

Darlinghurst Goal was opened in June 1841 and its first inhabitants were marched to their new quarters from their previous abode in Lower George Street, chained together.

Originally the Goal was divided into two portions – the male division containing 407 cells, and 39 cells for females, all in all 446 cells. At times it has been the home of some of the worst criminals. It is interesting to recall that no fewer than 70 prisoners were executed within its walls. The last execution took place on October 29th, 1907.

Francis Greenway was commissioned to design a goal that would overlook Sydney as a constant reminder that Sydney was a convict town. Convicts from 1822-1824 built the walls of the jail. You can still see convict marks on them. The marks were made to show how much work each convict did. Greenway’s plans were used for the walls. But because he was an ex-convict, he was taken off the job and his plans for the buildings were not used. Instead, the jail was built using the plans of a jail in Philadelphia. The Plan of the Goal was like the spokes of a wheel, with wings radiating from a central point leaving narrow segments of space between. Work began on the jail in 1835 and it took 50 years to finish. By 1840 the Governor’s residence, one men’s cellblock and the women’s cellblock were ready. To move in, the prisoners walked through the streets of Sydney from their old jail at Circular Quay to the new goal. The first governor was Mr. Henry Keck.

All classes of criminals from the quietest to the most desperate have been dealt with inside Darlinghurst Goal.
In bygone days bad prisoners were sent to dark cells and wore strait jackets, the gag and irons. ‘In the last 25 years, only two prisoners succeeded in effecting an escape from the goal’. (Truth Newspaper 1914 ‘Old Chum’).

Frank Gardiner, one of New South Wales’ most renowned bushrangers was accommodated in Darlinghurst Goal, as the fiasco surrounding his trial became public entertainment. For more information (and songs) on Gardiner (aka Frank Christie) visit the site’s Bushranger section.

‘Nosey Bob’ (real name Robert Howard) was the State’s first official hangman, officiating at his last execution in 1904. He is buried at Waverley Cemetery.

Darlinghurst Goal then remained the main Sydney penitentiary up until 1914, when it’s unwilling inmates were transferred to the new “model prison” at Long Bay. During its long life, Darlinghurst Goal hosted public executions on a makeshift gallows outside the main gate in Forbes Street, as well as regular “private” executions on the permanent gallows just inside the main walls near the intersection of Darlinghurst Road and Burton Street. Over 70 people were executed here including the bushranger ‘Captain Moonlight’ (aka Andrew George Scott), Jimmy Governor (known as ‘Jimmy Blacksmith’ in more recent times), and the last woman to hang in NSW, Louisa Collins.

Henry Lawson also did time at Darlinghurst, for drunkenness and non-payment of alimony, and recorded his experience in the haunting poem ‘One Hundred and Three’ – his prison number- that was published in 1908. Here he refers to the prison as ‘Starvinghurst Goal’ because of the meager rations given to the inmates.

At one time Darlinghurst Goal was the principal manufacturing goal in New South Wales. The chief industries carried out were mat-making, tailoring, bookbinding, blacksmithing, boot making and carpentering.

One of the most dominant sights in Paddington is the Army compound known as Victoria Barracks. It was begun in 1841 and used a local stone quarry engaging a large number of convict quarrymen and 100 imported Canadian stonemasons. There were massive delays because of the sand hills and it took three times longer to complete than anticipated. The Victoria Barracks were completed in 1848 and first occupied by 11th regiment.

When the first troops were transferred there several of the soldiers complained that they were being sent to ‘the interior’ and too far away from ‘Barrack Street’. There was considerable grumbling as they thought they wouldn’t be able to get into town at night and, they objected to living next to the scrub.

The site was chosen as being strategically placed between Port Jackson and Botany Bay in the event of enemy invasion. It is still used as a military barracks today.

Other Signposts to History

The Green Gate Hotel built for these workers. It later became The Greenwood Tree. Nearby was the Nag’s Head Hotel. This hotel was situated on Oxford Street, opposite the Barracks and in front of part of the old hospital. It is now a retail complex with little to remind us of its history.

A toll bar crossed the road on Old South Head Road (which is now Oxford Street) and later moved to near the barracks. It was eventually abolished around 1880.

Thomas Mort made his first ice experiments in Paddington. He was determined to manufacture ice for his frozen meat business housed at Mort’s Dock. Mr Mort also financed the Sydney to Parramatta railway in the 1850s (Refer to this site’s railway section for a complete history of transport in Australia and this 14 mile railway). Mort’s Dock Balmain became a major shipping dock.

The First Paddington Council was established in 1860 and the rate book shows 649 properties of which 500 were houses. Mr Perry (Arnott was first Mayor) – he lived near the Fairfax residence at Double Bay.

Oxford Street always a main gateway for city of Sydney

In 1862 Mr E Arnold opened a small drapery shop and after trading for four years he built a large stone building (Arnold’s Drapery) with a floor space of 1100 sq feet on the corner of Oxford & Crown Street. Colonial critics considered it to be far too large for the street – Oxford Street was then known as Old South Head Road. The suburb of Paddington appeared to start on the corner of Elizabeth and Liverpool streets in the city and then wind its way up towards what we now know as Bondi Junction. The most obvious starting point of old Paddington would have been the Blind Beggar Hotel – which became The Burdekin (which still remains).

At Riley Street and Oxford the most imposing building was Buckingham’s Palace Emporium, which boasted the ‘largest corset department in Sydney’. These, of course, were the famous Warner’s Rustproof and the Imperial Redfern All-Whalebone Corsets. The building had four floors and boasted ‘one of the most prominent landmarks in Sydney, rising above all its surroundings, and from its roof one of the finest panoramic views of Sydney and its environs’. Buckingham’s had two hydraulic lifts and an ingenious electric parcel lift connected all departments with the basement, where the firm’s goods were received and despatched. A cable cash railway system operated to a central desk through which, in due course, all the business of this most important Oxford Street establishment daily and hourly flowed.

Between 1860 and 1890 some 3,800 terrace houses were constructed giving Paddington its unique character. The terrace design was based on similar houses in London. There the style of building suited the cold climate. Some Paddington residents however soon found this type of housing to be very hot in summer. Today the terraces are known for the decorative wrought iron “lacework” featured on the balconies and street frontages, exhibiting not only geometric and classical patterns but also Australian motifs of ferns and wattles.

Continuing our 1860s ramble…

On the Northern side from the Albury Hotel was Cook Confectionary shop at 76 Oxford, Corner Comber (famous for their snowdrops, butter caramels, frosted caramels, chocolates.)

Marshall’s Co-op brewery dominated opposite.

Charles Kinsela Funeral Home was on the corner of Green’s Road and Napier streets. Locals called it the ‘dead centre of Paddington’. Later the trams ran from Green’s Road Depot. Green’s Road adjoins the western side of the Victoria Barracks.

Nearby was the James Cook Bakery – famous throughout Sydney. They had 186 attention-getting carts shaped like huge ‘High-Top’ loaf of bread. They must have been a sight to see!

Pharmacist Septimus Powell, famous for his patent cough medicine, also dispensed from this area. Powell was renowned for his patent medicines which were keenly sought after by workers, particularly shearers with bad backs, lumbago etc

Old Paddington reservoir.
Sydney’s water came from the Lachlan swamps to Busby’s Bore after 1837… by 1850 Sydney’s population was 40,000 and regularly suffered water shortages. In 1858 the council installed 3 steam engines to pump water from Botany Swamps to its reservoirs. In 1864 the Paddington Reservoir was built on Oxford Street, near the Paddington Town Hall. In 1886 water was sourced from the Prospect Reservoir down to Paddington. The old reservoir site is currently being developed including a large section, which will reveal its fascinating history.

The Metropolitan Fire Brigade was housed on Oxford Street, close to the reservoir. Fire was a major problem for the suburb since most of the residents used open coke and wood fires for heating and cooking. There were also surprisingly many industries operating in the area, including many in the belowground areas of buildings. The Fire Brigade eventually was burned down and relocated to its present site adjoining the old Paddington Town Hall on Oatley Road.

Opposite the original fire station were various businesses including Hyde & Co General Carriers, Davis & Co Tailors and Mercers, Mr Eames the Chemist, Richardson the watchmaker, various produce merchants, butcher’s shops and general stores.

Beyond the Paddington Inn and heading towards Bondi were – boot selling trade, baker and pastry cook, milliner, Harry Havenhand tobacconist. Reflecting the growth of Paddington there was a growing number of real estate agents.

Newcombe Street had H G Foster’s Bicycles manufacturerandshop – a well-known winner at bicycle meetings. Stewart Street had Olding’s Carriage Makers who made ambulance and wagons for the Boer War campaign. 

Oxford Street also boasted four excellent oyster bars. These oyster bars catered for everyday diners, as oysters were considered inexpensive. They usually had a long counter, sometimes made of zinc, and uniformed assistants would serve oyster stews, soups, freshly shucked Sydney Rock Oysters and a variety of cooked fish.

Opposite corner of Elizabeth Street, Paddington, was Messrs Faulkinham – leather grinders and boot makers, and then Twigg’s furniture factory.

St John’s Church and manse on the corner Regent Street and Oxford were built in 1837.

Mr Morcomber ran the ‘oldest grocery business in the district, at the corner of Gurner and Cambridge streets. There was definitely no ‘self service’ in those days and Mr. Morcomber, dressed impeccably, would package and wrap flour, sugar, tea, sausage and household goods.

Around 1870 a visitor to Sydney would have found the inner city Bay suburbs of Elizabeth Bay, Potts Point, Rose Bay, Rushcutters Bay and Double Bay were becoming thickly clustered with ‘villa residences’ of wealthy families. At a slightly lower level of middle class settlement were Paddington, Balmain, Woollahra and Bondi. Places like Redfern, Surry Hills and Pyrmont had already deteriorated into filthy, tightly packed slums. Woolloomooloo and Glebe were beginning their slide.

Old Horse-drawn buses of Paddington. Large and small horse-drawn ‘buses’ travelled to the city, and back to the terminal on Glenmore Road. They were gaily painted and given names: The Cricketer, the Lottery, Hit or Miss, The Florence, The Violet, The Beeswing.

(From The Truth Newspaper 1914)

The introduction of half-day Saturday in 1872 saw thousands of workers ‘clocking off’ at 1pm and heading straight for the Sydney Cricket Ground – via Paddington. – ‘tens of thousands of young clerks, working-girls, shopmen, foundry workers, mechanics, larrikins, betting men, publicans and other members of the ‘half world’ (‘Old Chum, Sydney Truth, 1914). Paddington had a reputation as a working class suburb to uphold and the visitors often found themselves face-to-face with a mob of Paddington rough necks – ready for a donnybrook. Suburban loyalties were seen as important and the cause of many fights.

Factory Conditions:

Around the 1870s when industry was becoming more dominant, only one factory owner in a hundred provided proper ventilation. In winter all the holes and windows were stopped up, and workers kept warm by breathing in each other’s exhalations. Some, like bakeries, had workers underground. Other factories were built with rooves of corrugated iron – providing a sweltering heat of a foundry. These were dreadful times for the workingman and woman and neither employer nor employee knew quite what to expect.

Steam boilers were new and massive as they pumped foul, hot wet air to provide energy. Machinery was mostly untried and rarely had protective guards. Many men lost limbs and life. Workplace Relations were non-existent as business owners and workers battled to see who was ‘master and man’. One Paddington factory sign read ‘all hands are liable to be discharged at a moments notice’

By the 1890s, Mr Francis Adams, writing in his book The Australians (1891 London), commented: “No European city ‘boasts’ more hideous suburbs’. Places like Newtown, Enmore, Paddington and Glebe were now simply ‘a congerie of bare brick habitations… an arid, and desolate waste…. Utterly unrelieved by tree or grass,” where ‘the shoddy contractor despotises in his vilest and most hateful shape’.

Disease was a major problem in these times. Paddington relied on ‘night soil’ collectors who rattled up ‘dunny lanes’ to empty cans.

In 1882 Woollahra had 5000 houses and 4000 cesspits. This led to plagues of bugs, mosquitoes, fleas, flies and rats.
This led to the opening of Paddington’s Turkish Baths to be opened by Mr. Wigzal in Oxford Street allowing half an hour’s scrubbing upon payment of 1/-. There were baths for gentlemen and one for ladies.

Paddington’s streets were alive with the cries of vendors – John the Chinaman (from Rushcutter’s Bay), the ice man, the clothes-props man, the rabbito and men wearing heavy leather aprons as they delivered coke for fires and furnaces. Like many suburbs of the time, Paddington had a large number of very pungent smells.

Roads & traffic was a major concern in the 1907 Paddington Council Report. It announced the Bellevue Hill Tramway was set to commence through Paddington and Woollahra crossing Barcom Street and Liverpool Street, proceeding along Macdonald, Glenmore, Gurner and Hargrave Streets. The report drew attention to the congested state of Glenmore Road at certain points along the Paddington section of the tramway, especially opposite the Royal Hospital for Women.

The suburb was progressing and in 1906/7 Paddington Council workers laid 29 chains of drainage, 858 tons of asphalt, 971 tons of blue metal.

The Paddington Library, inaugurated 1891/2 was made a free library in 1897 and by 1906/7 it was clearly not a financial success. It was established with a 200 pounds Government endowment and 37-pounds 16-shillings of local donations. After a short time the library costs were ‘out of control’ and the Report recommended:

• That the library be kept open as at present, every afternoon from 2.30pm to 5pm, Saturday as accepted and only three nights a week from 7-9.30pm
• That the purchase of books, periodicals and papers be discontinued.
• That the salary of the Librarian be reduced to 52 pounds a year. (from 80-pounds)

The report was adopted. The frustrated Librarian resigned and his job was offered at 52-pounds per annum.

The Town Hall (built 1891 for 13000 pounds include fittings) was well patronised during the year, with total revenue of 584 pounds 15 shillings. There was a slight fall due to the introduction 1907 of ice-skating under cover in Sydney for the first time. Roller-skating was also revived. Importance of clock.

1908 Council Report advised that there were 78 cases of infectious disease. This was an increase and included 58 scarlet fever, 13 diphtheria, and 7 typhoid. 11 of these were at Ormond House (Juniper Hall) – a State-run institution for children and juvenile offenders.

There were 228 applications for milk venders during the year. 177 local and 51 non-resident vendors. (shops)

In 1910 the council discussed the need for an eastern suburbs rail system. This had an impact on industry in the area. In 2009 we are still waiting!

The purchase by the Olympia Company, of the site of Marshall’s Brewery, for a newtheatre – removed a very old landmark. Over 50 years ago (1911 Report) the Brewery was started by Mr J Marshall, in a small way, who, after carrying on for some years, converted the same into a company. In 1910 the massive brewery buildings still stood. During its time the brewery won a champion gold medal at the Sydney Exhibition 1880 for its ale

One street known as Marshall Street, used to run through portion of the land on which ‘The Olympia’ now stands.

The new theatre stood on the corner of Oxford and Dowling Streets, at a cost of 12,000 pounds, and two large factories were built – one in Soudan street and the other off South Street on part of the old site. The theatre was modernised in the 1930s with a new proscenium, decorations and light fittings. It was again renovated and re-named West’s Odeon, Darlinghurst, in 1953.

Closed as the Odeon in 1960 it stood empty until it re-opened as the Mandala Cinema, home of ‘Cult & Rock’ films. This closed in 1972 and part of it was converted into Sydney’s first twin cinema located on the ground floor level. The corner theatre became the property of the local Greek Hellenic Church, which was in turn leased to become the Pacific Blue Room nightclub.

Another Paddington venue, the old picture theatre at Five Ways (which became Clancy’s Supermarket and now Thomas Dux) had a short respite as a local version of the Grand Old Opry (operated by the LeGarde Twins) who presented Marty Robbins, Speedy West and Lorne Greene at the venue.

A midnight ‘Goat Raid’ in 1910 was ‘successful in getting rid of a number of goats, which were for some time creating a nuisance and annoyance to residents.’ (Council report)

The Sydney Stadium was a sporting and entertainment venue in Sydney, located Rushcutter’s Bay, Paddington, in Sydney. It was built in 1908 and demolished in 1970.

In mid-1908 Sydney promoter Hugh Donald Macintosh leased a vacant lot in Rushcutter’s Bay, just east of the city centre. The site, a former Chinese market garden, was acquired on a lease of £2 per week over three years. Macintosh then quickly built a stadium to promote major boxing matches.

The Stadium — which was at first unroofed — opened with a few exhibition matches, but the first major bout, on August 24 1908, was between Canadian world heavyweight champion Tommy Burns and Australian champion Bill “Boshter” Squires, which Burns won by a knockout in the thirteenth round. These early big fights proved extremely popular and vastly profitable for Macintosh. His take from the Burns-Squires fight alone was £13,500 — which would probably equate to at least one million dollars today.

Charles Cosens Spencer’s Film Studio at Rushcutter’s Bay was a real pioneer studio. It was followed by Supreme Sound Studios, Young Street, and, later, Ross Wood Films in Gosbel Street.

Paddington continued to prosper in the years before World War I. When the war ended, people turned away from the inner city suburbs and Paddington went into decline. The Paddington ‘Larrikin Push’ also terrified Sydney and kept house values down.

The Depression of the early 1930’s was a hard blow. Many owners evicted tenants who were unable to pay their rent and the houses soon became derelict. By the end of World War II there were plans to demolish the terraces, straighten out the winding streets and turn the suburb into a precinct of high-rise home units. Fortunately these plans never came to fruition.

The revival of Paddington began in the 1950’s with the arrival of migrants from the Mediterranean who had no idea that the suburb was regarded as a “slum” by the native-born. They would paint the terraces, plant tiny gardens, make repairs and then sell them off to more recent arrivals. Painters and writers later joined the migrant owners and by the early 1950’s the first restored houses were visible.

The change was especially obvious in the suburb’s corner stores. As the ethnic mix of the suburb changed so did the retail outlets, especially the general food stores. Many corner stores were known as ‘ham and beef shops’, and were, essentially delicatessens. In the 18980s I visited the Underwood Street Senior Citizen’s Centre and one old lady told me a wonderful story about the cultural changeover. Apparently, one by one, the older corner stores had been taken over by migrant families. Coon cheese gave way to ricotta, Devon was replaced by salami etc. In a desperate attempt to stay viable an old Aussie shop open posted a large sign on his window: ‘Shop here before the Day Goes’. There was no anti discrimination laws in those days but he certainly got his message across!

By the late 1950s Paddington had became the bohemian suburb. Duffle coats, brothel sneaker boots mixed with clinch-belts swirling skirts. Artists, writers, dancers and other strange people moved into the small houses and the suburb became known for its beatniks.

1950s onwards – numerous arts galleries opened to cater for the suburb’s arty crowd and reputation– the best known included Bonython Gallery (Kym discovered Pro Hart), Hogarth, Chandler Coventry, Barry Stern, Rudy Koman, Holdsworth Gallery. Paddington was known for its art openings where cheap flagon wine, cheese cubes and cabanosi kept many an artist alive. It was also known for illicit substances.

The 1960s saw Paddington as a ‘hippy suburb’ with wafts of ‘grass’ a familiar aroma in the streets. Terrace roofs were a good place to grow pot plants. The hallucinatory drug LSD was also popular – made in the suburb.

The 1970s witnessed another revival in Paddington. Inner-city living was seen as an option and real estate started to soar. Advertising and other creative people started to renovate. This probably signaled the first wave of gay and lesbian residents. Being single and childless the smaller terrace houses were ideal for sharing and smaller areas were redesigned to allow additional accommodation. Enzo’s, one of Sydney’s earliest gar bars opened in the late 1960s next door to the Paddington Post Office.

The local pubs were also experiencing a revival – offering live jazz, folk music and ‘burn your own steaks’. It should be mentioned that these were independently owned hotels and they helped define Australian ‘pub culture’. Most Paddington hotels had a beer garden and these were soon converted to allow a barbecue and garden chairs and tables. The deal was that customers could purchase a raw steak, chops or sausages (usually accompanied with a pre-cooked potato in foil.). You took the meat to the barbecue, watched it like a hawk, helped yourself to the salad table and tucked in. It was terrific and all the better if there was live music. Community resistance to beer garden noise spill (from people who had bought a house right next door to a hotel!!) eventually saw every hotel beer garden converted to swish, covered same-same restaurants. It should never have been allowed to happen.

1972 the year ‘Australia lost its virginity’.
“One channel in Sydney has developed “No. 96“–a kind of “blue” soap opera concerning gangbangs, adultery, and incest as found in Sydney’s Paddington district. While full frontal nudity is still taboo, even the more respectable shows are spiced up with total rear and waist-up frontal nudity. “We’re not making great TV,” explains one TV executive. “We are asked to produce a program that appeals to a mass market and makes money. That is what we set out to do.” (Report from newspaper)

I opened my first business, Folkways Music, in 1973, at 32a Oxford Street, moved it to 76 Oxford street a few years later and eventually to 282 Oxford Street – where it still stands. I shudder to recall the awning with its ‘Real Music In A Sea of Shit’ that remained a fixture of the main street for over a decadewithout one single complaint. I then established Larrikin Records in 1974 and, Grandma Was Right, a natural grocer shop run by my big sister, Zandra. Paddington had also been the home for another specialist record label – the Wattle Label, established by filmmaker Peter Hamilton in 1955.

The 1970s were an ‘industrious’ high – so many owner-operator businesses. There were 5 butcher shops, eight fruit shops, a Coles Emporium, an old fashioned hardware store, fishmongers, milk bars etc along the Oxford Street strip. Many people ran small businesses from their homes. The Paddington market, established in 1973, was also a major attraction for the area. Paddington was still seen as ‘alternative’ and despite the houses selling for what seem astronomical prices, the area still attracted the offbeat. In the early 1980s followers of Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh opened a meditation centre in the old bakery behind the Paddington post office. Rajneesh was a self-professed Indian mystic and spiritual teacher. A professor of philosophy, he travelled throughout India in the 1960s as a public speaker, raising controversy by speaking against socialism, Mahatma Gandhi and institutionalised religion. He advocated a more open attitude towards sexuality, a stance that earned him the sobriquet “sex guru” in the Indian and later the international press. His followers always wore purple or orange and were known as ‘Orange people’.

Paddington continued its association with the arts and was the home of many artistic endeavors. In 1971 Katharine Brisbane established Currency Press above the newsagent in Oxford Street, Donald Friend lived behind Folkways, composer Peggy Glanville-Hicks lived in Ormond Street, Peter Sculthorpe was on Glenmore Road, etc. Several local newspapers and guides were published in the area including The Paddington Paper and Paddington Times. Historian Max Kelly, a resident of Ormond Street,wrote a history of the suburb ‘A Paddock Full of Houses’. Writer Cyril Pearl, actor Jack Thompson, opera diva Joan Carden, were just a handful of local identities.

Paddington also had a big appetite and many of its restaurants became extremely successful –including  Patricks, Darcy’s, Claudes, Lucio’s, Maestros, Le Café, The Hungry Horse, Buon Ricordo.

Good Sports

Australian football started in Sydney 1879 when a group of enthusiastic locals met in Cascade Street (where East’s Juniors still have their home ground), Paddington, to organise the first match for April 1880. It was played at Moore Park between east Sydney and Sydney. No, I don’t know who won. The teams continued to play until in 1881 a separate team was formed from their ranks as the first intercolonial team between NSW and Vic. (Victoria won) East Sydney Bulldogs – formed 1095.

Amongst famous players to play for East’s Bulldogs AFC include Les Darcy (The Champion boxer), Victor Trumper (The famous cricketer after whom the home ground is named), and Roy Hayes (the only East’s player ever selected for an All-Australian AFL side).  source:  Truth Newspaper 25th Sept 1927.

A Paddington Curio

Following a report that shady hawkers had been selling dyed sparrows instead of Roller Canaries some wit composed the following ditty – a parody of ‘Comin’ Through the Rye’:
Sister Mary bought a canary
Paying cost a sigh
Day and night
Tis true, too right,
She listened to its cry
But strange to say it never whistled
This is the reason why
She found some cock sparrow feathers
Coming through the dye.

I spent over 10 years as President of the Paddington Chamber of Commerce. I am a firm believer that if one makes a living in an area there is an obligation to contribute back to that community. Over those years there were many local causes and campaigns, mostly concerning the continuing threat to the local historic value of the suburb. These were time of blatant destruction of historic properties all over Sydney, including the central business area. We lost many fine buildings through corrupt government and over zealous developers – mostly they seemed to go hand-in-hand. At one stage most of Jersey Road was destined to be broken up ‘for an expressway for traffic’ and other battle erupted over Juniper Hall – where developers presented plans to build a shopping strip in front of the landmark building.

One of the aspects of Paddington I was determined to save was the historic above-awning facades of the buildings. Many of the below-awning shop windows had already been ‘wrecked’ by turning the old-style two window, walk in, and fronts to single sheet, flat fronts. These were and still are out of keeping with the overall building designs. They are architecturally insensitive and ugly to boot. My attitude was to preserve the above awning facades by highlighting them through a colour scheme. In retrospect I probably wouldn’t have chosen the colours that still remain today but they did achieve awareness and, by cooperation with owners, we did manage to make entire terraces of shops look like their original one set of buildings. We achieved about 75% cooperation from owners (a good average) and the strip became Australia’s first real main street restoration example. The Paddington Restoration Committee and Main Street Façade Program is documented elsewhere but was essentially a bringing together of the two participating councils, Woollahra and South Sydney (Now City of Sydney) with the community.

Today the suburb’s proximity to the city has made it popular with business and professional people. The shops have changed from those serving local needs to cafes, bookshops, antique shops, art galleries, specialty and designer fashion boutiques. The commercial main street strip has, unfortunately, become a mish mash of known ‘label names’ that really add nothing to the suburb’s culture. These enterprises are usually run by ‘head office’ and contribute little back into the community and, as you know, always have an identifiable ‘look’ and this often is against the overall look of the community. The commercial culture of Paddington is now dominantly fashion and that is why the local residents have continually felt alienated. Why would they need to visit the strip regularly when the strip doesn’t cater for their general needs. For this reason the mega centres like Westfield Bondi Junction and Edgecliff centre have become the destination for general food and home products.

Paddington today is still a mixed bag of ratbags, rabblerousers, soldiers, bankers, wankers and oddballs – all alongside school children, happy families, rich and poor.