2. What would I miss? Sydney's history ...

Corner of Cambridge St and Argyle St, from the overhead bridge on Cumberland St.

In my first riff upom our upcoming theme, I posited that I would miss the harbour, and its beaches, the sun and the sand. Steffe Jansson shot back that I could simply move to another seaside city ... mmm ... he is right, y'know. There must be something else I would miss should I move away from Sydney. How about the history of places like The Rocks? It sounds a bit over the top to miss history in a city that was only established in 1788. But there are not many world-class cities which were established as a penal colony.

Parish of Cooks River [4/5]

After an hour's wander around and through the graveyard, I turned my attention to the church itself. And no sooner had I done so than the pastor, Andrew, came over to chat with me. He was most generous with his time, even once he realised it was the history of the church which had lured me there, rather than the word of The Lord.

So, he opened it up and gave me a guided tour, and graciously left me alone, asking me to pull the door to on my departure. The building is showing its age, and although loved, could do with more TLC than its meagre parishioners can afford. It started off as a church in a working class area, sans bells and whistles. And although the surrounding streets are becoming just a little bit gentrified, the educated middle-class are not frequenters of churches in this country. I do not think they are at any rate. However, the community is beginning to use the hall for a range of activities that will bring in a bit of money. But it is the history of the place that they are working upon. More on that in the final post.

You're history

It doesn't have to have happened donkeys'-years ago, to be historic. Yesterday is history. Just that in Castlecrag, the history I encounter is 80 years old, whereas in Paddington the history is 180 years old. Take this small cottage on Fourth Street. Constructed during the Great Depression, the socio-economic ebb and flow of suburbs make it solidly middle-class, evidenced by it being manicured to within an inch of its life.

This cottage, however, stands upon a short no-thru lane between Fourth and Eastern Valley Way, and that lane itself is cloaked in history, a history of road construction. Telford was a Scot who lived in the first half of the 19th century, yet this lane is in suburban Sydney and I have found one source that dates it 1920. It looks innocuous, and the upkeep appears to be zilch. But, the construction method is complex and took us from corrugated roads to bitumised freeways.

The devil is in the detail

Here I go, leading you off down the garden path to 'geekdom' again. I have excelled myself this time ... hee hee hee!

You're dying to know what that daft little metal thingamejig is, aren't you? I can just sense the excitement bubbling to the surface ...

Once long ago, when politicians were even more daft than they are now, the city of Sydney did away with trams. After a century, and with one of the most extensive tramway systems in the world ... poof ... overnight ...

But, if you look really, really hard, you can find little bits they forgot.


The old photograph was taken in 1960 and shows a tram going down the hill from Kings Cross and just before Rushcutters Bay park. See all those cables that supply the electricity to power the trams? Well those cables had to be anchored somewhere.

The modern photograph shows an early Bank of New South Wales building in Castlereagh Street. Look carefully on the left-hand-side (LHS) just above the anchor point for the awning.


This old photograph is of College Street, with St Mary's Cathedral on the RHS and the Department of Births, Deaths & Marriages straight ahead. Judging from the style of GM-Holdens on the road, I would date this pre-1958. See all the overhead wires? They have to be anchored somewhere. I wonder if any anchor points are still lodged in the sandstone of St Mary's?

The photograph on the RHS is of the David Jones Market St store (the snooty department store mentioned over the weekend). This is the corner of Market St and Castlereagh St. See the rounded art-deco wrap-round window. Look just to the left of it. Bingo, an anchor point.


The old photograph was taken somewhere in Balmain and that model Holden came out in 1959. See all the overhead wires? If the photo was good enough, we could enlarge it and tell the difference between the anchor points for the tram cables and the anchor points for the awnings. Bet there are many still there.

The new photograph is along Oxford Street, Paddington. Victoria Barracks was at my back. See the old Greenwood Tree pub. It is now apartments for DINKS. Have a look above each anchor for the awning, and you will find an anchor for a tram cable. They can also be see on the next building if you enlarge the image.


So, figured out where the top photograph was taken yet? Yep, the main entrance to the Queen Victoria Building along George Street, just where the main inward bus interchange is. Criminal isn't it? Drilling into that lovely sandstone to support cables. But a city has to adapt to growth.

Harbour Islands (5) - Spectacle Island

There are 9 islands in Sydney Harbour: Shark, Clark, Garden, Fort Dennison. Goat, Cockatoo, Spectacle, Snapper and Rodd. Thus far, I have blogged on Shark Island, Goat Island, Garden Island and Cockatoo Island. Recently, I accompanied 60 intrepid salts from the Maritime Museum out to Spectacle Island.

Spectacle Island lies between Cockatoo Island and the Birkenhead Point peninsular on the western side of the Harbour Bridge. Controlled by the Navy, it is not open to the general public and tours are rare occurrences. It is used for training courses for naval tactical response groups and to house the Naval Heritage Collection, which collects and stores naval items for display at Garden Island and travelling exhibitions around the nation.


Originally two small islands connected by a tidal isthmus -hence its name - the first building on Spectacle Island was a convict-built powder magazine completed in 1865, designed to take some of the pressure off Goat Island. The chief engineer was George Barney who also constructed Victoria Barracks, Circular Quay and Fort Denison as well as the moat on Goat Island. The magazine, seen here, was constructed of rock from the island as well as from nearby Cockatoo Island during the construction of its Fitzroy Dock.


Commander Shane Moore, who live on the island, was our guide through the heritage collection. His knowledge is deep and it is personal. He knows the origin of every item in his massive collection, that ranges from Spanish canons, through ships bells, naval uniforms (including buttons), ships insignia and regulation eating utensils.


The two hour tour is not long enough to do this remarkable island justice. The group from the Maritime Museum was gobsmacked at every turn. We saw the ship's compass from the German cruiser, Emden, destroyed off the Cocos Islands in 1914. There is Mawson's sled from his Antarctic expeditions.

A truly remarkable collection stored on this island in the harbour that most Sydney-siders do not know exists.

Forgotten Nooks - Church Hill

Come with me on a leisurely meander up from Sergeant Major’s Row, where the sandstone rocks morph into ridges covered with Forest Red Gums, up the rise where stands the church of St Phillip. Turn and look back from whence we came, and to our left we see the ragged rows of tents, the already crumbling wattle’n’daub huts of the convicts, the soldiers and the few free settlers. Ahead lies the beauty of the cove where ships of many nations already ride at anchor. Survey with me a township barely 22 years in the making.


Now leap 200 years into the future with me, where the second church to bear the name St Phillip stands just across York Street from its namesake burnt to the ground in 1856. We stand on the green of Church Hill, surrounded by the houses of many Christian faiths. The foundation stone of that original St Phillip – ‘the ugliest church in all Christendom’ – rests on the southern wall proudly proclaiming its consecration in 1810.


Church Hill remains as a small handkerchief of park bounded by Grosvenor, York and Lang Streets, now renamed Lang Park to honour the memory of the fiery Presbyterian pastor, John Dunmore Lang. Many churches still grace its perimeter, but in this more godless age, not all performing their original purpose.

Church Hill is a forgotten nook within the city, mown down by the juggernaut of urban renewal.


A member of the My World Tuesday community.

Forgotten Nooks - Brickfield Hill

Top: George St looking north up to the monorail crossing at Liverpool Street. Below Left: Looking south down George St in 1873. Below Right: Looking south down George Street in 1900.

At the end of February in 1788, one of the journals kept on board the ‘Sirius’ recorded that a useful deposit of clay had been uncovered not far from the settlement near a small creek that ran into Cockle Bay. This was a red letter day: the settlement was on the verge of moving from canvas to something more substantial. To the north ran a steady rise, and up and over and down the other side – about a mile – lay the new settlement on Sydney Cove. Callooh! Callay!

Looking south down George Street where the monorail crosses at Liverpool Street.

So came into being an area called ‘Brickfield Hill’ which was a Sydney postal address until postcodes were introduced in 1967. Covering the area roughly between Paddy’s Markets, Elizabeth Street, George , Bathurst and Goulburn Streets, Brickfield Hill was a rough and tough area with many public houses and other establishments of ill-repute. The area was used for brick making up until the 1840s when the value of land rose in line with the spread of the township. This industrial area was too close to the residential terraces bordering Hyde Park and had to be moved further out.


The above map 'Plan de la Ville de Sydney', drawn by a visiting French artist, Charles-Alexandre Lesueur, in November 1802, shows the vicinity. I have indicated some current landmarks to help you orient yourself.

Above: Close to the intersection of George & Bathurst looking south.

George Street is the main thoroughfare of the modern city. Brickfield Hill is pretty much the area between the Town Hall and Central Station. Today, it is a congested, busy, thriving metropolis abundant with retail-therapy opportunities, towering modern apartment blocks and hotels in addition the sights sounds and smells of both the Spanish Quarter and Chinatown. Until recently it was an entertainment area based upon cinemas with Greater Union, Hoyts and Village all having complexes on George Street. However, it the last ten years cinemas have moved into the suburbs and the area is replete with pinball parlors, adult bookshops, downstairs clubs and massage parlors. What goes around, comes around.

Top: Both these shots are from close to the same spot which is the intersection of George & Liverpool facing south now crossed by the monorail. The left shot was 1930, the right was 1957. Below: Taken from the intersection of George with Park & Druitt streets in front of the Town Hall facing south looking in the direction of Brickfield Hill.

Woodblocking

As Sydney matured as a city, the citizenry felt the need to upgrade city services. During the 1880s the push was on to 'do' something about the state of the dirt cart tracks that passed for city streets.

Wood was used to weigh down manhole covers too. This gem is in Philip Street outside Football (NRL) headquarters.

This perceived need arose at around the same time as the development of the northern side of the harbour which was covered with tallowwood trees - a variety of eucalypt. Nowadays we may suck in an audible sigh of dismay, but the supply in those days appeared plentiful. The trees were felled and milled into blocks for creating 'paved' roadways. Well before the days of Mr Ford's assembly line, a team of men and boys would pass the blocks, stomp the blocks, tar the blocks, then sand the blocks. It was backbreaking and menial and assaulted the sinuses!

These two examples, both found in Philip St, show the gradual change from woodblock to bitument and concrete to weigh down manhole covers

Woodblocking fell into disrepute and disuse by the end of the 1920s when it was clear the motor car was here to stay and that woodblocks would not survive both the increased weight and the increased traffic. Woodblocking gave way to bitumen.


Above is a photograph from The City of Sydney site, showing Castlereagh Street in the early '20s. Part of the road surface has been washed away and spot filled with bitumen, even though the rest of the surface was woodblock.

Below is a section of George St (North) outside the Orient Hotel where a sample of woodblocking has been recently relaid to enable us to see how it used to be. Not far away, through the Argyle Cut and beside the Garrison Church there is a section of road surface where the layers of bitument are washed away during periods of intense raid, exposing the woodblocking beneath.