Pyrmont Bridge - Then & Now - 2

Same bridge as yesterday, different angle. You will note, of course, that Pyrmont Bridge is now motorised-vehicle-free. Even the exceedingly ugly Monorail has been removed. With both my shots, I am facing east. Instead of being predominantly a working harbour, Darling Harbour - which the Pyrmont Bridge spans - is now predominantly a leisure and tourism harbour. The restored pub, the Dundee Arms, is tucked in on the other side of that massive white rectangular building on the further shore.

This 1907 image shows the working habour past, of both Darling Harbour and the Pyrmont Bridge. Pyrmont is immediately to the west of the bridge, ie at my back. It provided much of the sandstone for work in the immediate vicinity, and for the CBD, from quarries with the romantic names Paradise, Purgatory. and Hellhole. In the B&W image, clearly visible on the horizon are (from L to R): the dome of the Queen Victoria Building, the clock tower of the Sydney Town Hall, and the double western buttresses of the Anglican Cathedral, St Andrews. The view ach and every one of these landmarks from the Pyrmont Bridge today, is obliterated by developments since 1907, as one might reasonably expect.

Taphophile Tragics - On being bold

A couple of weeks back, I told you a snippet of the story of James Barnet, the Colonial Architect of the second half of the 19th century, with many buildings to his name all around our state, with his main claim to fame being the imposing General Post Office which dominates Martin Place in the heart of Sydney. Today, I give you Edmund Blacket, Barnet's predecessor as Colonial Architect, and a direct contrast in human being.

I commenced this research from the viewpoint of Blacket being the superior architect. Now, however, I am simply confused. As is often the case with prickly characters (Barnet), and pillars of the community (Blacket) who 'was widely respected and admired for honesty, diligence, accuracy, fortitude and propriety', I transposed his personal characteristics to his professional output. I considered Blacket the superior architect, because he was held in the highest regard as a person. I misled myself perhaps. I think, now, that this is the classic divide of conservatism vs progressivism, Barnet vs Blacket.

But enough of the polemic. Who was Blacket, and why should we continue to honour his work, and his memory?

He was born in London in 1817, and died in the suburb of Petersham in 1883. His wife predeceased him, leaving him with eight children. I find their names delightful: Edith, Alice, Arthur, Marion, Owen, Hilda, Cyril and Horace. Yesterday, I gave you a quick tour of the Old Balmain Cemetery. This was where Blacket, and his wife Sara, were first interred. When this cemetery was closed, and eventually made into a park, the remains of Edmund and Sara were two of the very few exhumed and removed. They were 'claimed' by St Andrews Cathedral in the very heart of the city of Sydney, and one of Blacket's creations. It is not a triumph (I gather), that being reserved for some of his smaller Anglican churches, and for the Great Hall of the University of Sydney. However, I spotlight it today, because that is where his ashes rest. The Blacket headstone stands at the rear (although it could also be the front) of St Stephens (another Blacket work) Newtown, also known as Camperdown Cemetery.

The list of Blacket's ecclesiastical output is prodigious, as is the list of Barnet's civic and government output. Over the coming months I will endeavour to compare and contrast, in an adhoc series, in an attempt to pay homage to two very fine colonial Sydneians.

Now to the photographs: the first is the ceiling of St Andrews; then two portraits of Blacket, one with his five oldest children (thanks to David Speers); the niche wherein rest his ashes, which is near the western doorway; then an interior and exterior shot of St Andrews; and, finally, the headstone out at Camperdown Cemetery.