Showing posts with label City of Sydney Archives. Show all posts
Showing posts with label City of Sydney Archives. Show all posts

Friday, February 10, 2012

Darlinghurst Blog: Past and Present: Corner of William Street and Kirketon Road

The corner of Kirketon Road and William Street is a rather bland, nondescript junction these days, not conducive to lingering. 
But back in the 1950s it was a bustling corner and home to the original Bar Coluzzi:


This photograph, from the City of Sydney Archives, was taken in 1957 and shows Luigi Coluzzi standing in front of his eponymous cafe. Inside the darkened doorway sits Eleni Coluzzi. 
I still find it hard to believe it is the same location in the contemporary photograph, but according to the archives, the photographer is standing on the corner Kirketon Road, looking down to Rosebank Street. 
I again pulled out the old City Building Surveyor's maps to see what the corner once looked like from a geographical perspective, but the building must have been demolished prior to the building survey, as there is no trace of this row of shops, which also includes a laundrette, a bird shop and chemist. 


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And here's a glimpse of Bar Coluzzi as it is today:


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Bar Coluzzi
322 Victoria Street
Darlinghurst NSW 2010
02 9380 5420

Monday, June 6, 2011

Darlinghurst: Past and Present: Stoneleigh

I've become obsessed recently with browsing through the City of Sydney's online ArchivePix gallery, because I love seeing how Darlinghurst's streets once looked. My tailor friend Russell Wade dreams of having a pair of glasses that allows you to see and walk through Sydney's streets in the 19th Century. I'm happy, for the time being, just looking at the old photos, despite the fact that they only really cover the 1900s. It is quite rare to discover pictures of the area prior to then. 
If you have any old photographs, please send them to me and I can do another post in my brand new series, Past and Present. To begin with, here are some pictures of my dream house, Stoneleigh at 3 Darley Street. The picture above was taken in 1981, when the building was in quite a state of disrepair. It had been like that for some time and had been used as a storehouse for the neighbouring Marist Bros College. The roof was then badly damaged in a Sydney storm and it looks like workers in the Valiant and ute are about to start fixing the place up, for here is Stoneleigh four years later:


And here it is today:


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Links:

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Darlinghurst: History: 1923 Petition

I Take But I Surrender*
I am not ready to concede defeat in my search for the secret tunnels. In fact I am so enjoying the adventures I am having in my quest, and the stories I have discovered along the way, that it will actually be disappointing if this little investigation reaches an end. 
Keeping me inspired are the letters and suggestions from readers about methods of finding the secret tunnels, which have included joining a tunnelling association, alerting the mainstream media to my search and - my favourite - employing ground-penetrating radar to find the tunnels. 
But I'm also kept going by the little stories I have unearthed in the City of Sydney Archives as I wade through ancient files associated with the Marist Brothers College. And the best story yet, has to be the one about the police and the council's investigation in to the naughty boys and the bread crusts.

This 1923 council file includes about a dozen letters of correspondence between the Town Clerk's office, the City Health Officer, council aldermen and the Inspector General of Police regarding a petition from May 1923, by the ''various residents and ratepayers in the vicinity of Darley and Liverpool streets'' in Darlinghurst.


''The Marist Brothers carry on a school for boys at the corner of Liverpool and Darley streets, Darlinghurst,'' a letter attached to the petition reads.
''This school came in to existence about 12 years ago, but now over 400 boys attend the school. The playground is a very small one and the boys have turned Darley Street in to a playground, especially that part from Liverpool Street to Wootton Hospital, which forms a cul de sac.''

''The boys use this playground from 8.30 in the morning till dark, taking complete possession of same playing the particular game then in favour, whether it be football, cricket or other sport, obstructing the traffic generally and partly obstructing those residing in the vicinity.
''The boys throw food, fruit skins etc about the street and footpaths and even in to the passages and ventilators of adjacent properties and act in a boisterous and rude manner causing annoyance to the tenants and lodgers occupying the flats immediately surrounding that particular part of the street including the staff and patients at the hospital.''


The petition of about 50 signatures was instigated by Ellen M Foley, who lived at Novar, 4 Darley Street, with her sister Margaret McNab; Geoffrey and Ada Fox; and C&L Hoad. In fact, part of the joy of discovering the petition was learning who used to live in Darley Street and the surrounds.



Maud Riley lived at the family home, Fairmount, with Gertrude and Sydney Riley and Katie McMaster, who all signed the petition. (Ten years later, in January 1933, a motor mechanic John Snow, 20, was shot in the leg by an unseen gunman as he was about to enter the doorway of Fairmount, where he lived.) The Fairmount Flats were listed for sale in July 1929 and it is noted in the listing that the building was on the corner of Liverpool and Darley streets, so perhaps it was this building:

Fairmount? 363 Liverpool Street


The petition also included people with addresses in Macquarie Street in the Sydney CBD, Darling Point, in the city's east, inner-west Dulwich Hill, as well as shopkeeper E.J McGurgan from 389 Liverpool Street and 364 Victoria Street. 

389 Liverpool Street 

364 Victoria Street (since demolished), right of the Green Park Hotel

A representative from Wootton Private Hospital (now known as Iona) also signed the petition and sent a letter of complaint.


The council was the first to investigate the complaint, and sent an officer of the Health and Sanitary Department to carry out surveillance of the street. 

''The pupils certainly play in this dead end street, but seem well behaved for a body of young boys,'' wrote City Health Officer J.S. Purdy.
''Miss Foley is, I understand, of a very nervous temperament, and I believe is more annoyed by the noises made by the boys than by any food scraps that may be thrown about.''

The residents were not happy with that investigation and continued to bombard the council and various aldermen with long, hand-written letters of complaint. In July 1923, Inspectors J.P. Collins and N.J. Courtney, were sent out to observe the boys. This time, with results!

''A further observation was carried out between 12.30pm and 12.55pm,'' the investigators wrote.
''On this occasion the boys were found to be very noisy and two of the lads were found throwing food-scraps on the footway, which consisted of one small piece of bread crust, and in the other case a piece of cake.''

The culprits were 11-year-old David Burfitt, of Anzac Parade, Kensington, south of Sydney, and 12-year-old Charles Currie, of 31 Johnston Street, Annandale, in the inner-west.
The pair were ''called up and informed that they were breaking one of the City By-Laws'' and were advised in future to ''roll any lunch scraps in paper and place them in the garbage tin on the school's premises.''
Investigators Collins and Courtney told the Town Clerk they could take action on the food-scraps but the noise concerns were outside their jurisdiction and should be referred to the Traffic Branch of the Police Department. 
The following month the matter received ''special attention on the part of the police'' and the noise ''has now been returned to a minimum'', wrote the Inspector General of Police in August, 1923:


It is not clear how the police achieved such a hasty and successful outcome. Neither are there any thank-you notes from Ms Foley within the file. 
Fortunately for young Burfitt and Currie, the cake- and crust-throwers, the council considered a warning to the boys as sufficient punishment.
''On account of their tender years a warning has been given them by the Inspector and this is regarded as sufficient in this instance because if they are proceeded against they would have to be taken before the Children's Court where the Magistrate would probably administer a warning,'' the Town Clerk wrote. 
I thought this was such a funny episode in Darlinghurst history and I am amazed that so much work went in to catching a couple of little boys throwing cake and crusts. I wonder if Burfitt and Currie went on to behave themselves or continued to be naughty. I suspect the latter. 


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The logo in the photograph above and at the top of this post, was embossed on most of the council's letters. It appears to have been designed in 1842 with the establishment of the Municipal Council of Sydney. It's certainly very different to today's City of Sydney anchor logo.


Which one do you prefer?

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Across the Border: Newtown: Art and Culture: Will Coles Exhibition

I have never written about the neighbourhood of Newtown before, because I have tried to confine this blog to Darlinghurst and its four or so neighbouring suburbs. Newtown is about three suburbs southwest of Darlinghurst as the crow flies, and six train stops (and two trains) away from Kings Cross. 
But there have been many times I have longed to write about Newtown and its fantastic clothing shops, endless cafes and excellent street art. And like Darlinghurst, Newtown also has a rich history. 
One of the most interesting historical stories is that of resident Eliza Donnithorne, who lived in Newtown from the 1840s and who was said to be the inspiration for Miss Havisham, the bride left at the altar in Charles Dickens's 1860 novel Great Expectations. 
I should also mention that Newtown has quite a few good pubs. 
Anyway, I finally hit upon a My Darling Darlinghurst-Newtown connection, which is why I am writing this post.
One of the most popular stories on this blog is a street art post from October 26 titled, Concrete Penis Gun. It featured the concrete sculpture pictured above, by artist Will Coles, which I found stuck to the wall of the old Darlinghurst Gaol.
I like to think it made the top three posts of ''all time'' because Coles's work is witty and finely executed, but I really suspect it's to do with the word penis in the blog title. Ah, penis. People must google that word all the time.
So I thought, considering it was such a well-visited post that My Darling Darlinghurst readers would like to know that Coles's work will be featuring in a new exhibition that opens this Saturday at the Wilson Street Gallery in . . . Newtown.
Coles's show, Tom of Blokeland, will run alongside an exhibition of works by Melbourne artist Melanie Fizmaurice, The Explorer.
The gallery's website features this excellent portrait of Coles:


And this excellent picture of one of his works:

This is not a Bomb, cast aluminium cement, by Will Coles, 2010.

And the website also includes a press release about the joint exhibition, which opens with a word from the gallery's director Janet Clayton:

''In 2011 we place our confidence in the future, launching two artists whose attitude and intellect reflect the frustration and hopes of those who must live over the next few decades with the consequences of yesterday's and today's mistakes.''

Later, Ms Clayton describes ''the pretension of art (as) just some of the fodder for (Coles's) keen jibes.''
Rather ironic, don't you think?
Sometimes - not all the time - I think it's best to just look at art, rather than write about it, or have someone explain it to you. Ignore the gallery directors and listen to the artists, I say. Wisely, Coles makes no comment in the press release. Make sure you visit this show soon, as it only runs for a short time.
UPDATE: Coles's work will also be included in two group shows - that incidentally have the same title - at galleries closer to Darlinghurst, opening this week:

Sculpture 2011, runs from January 19 to February 12
Brenda May Gallery
2 Danks Street
Waterloo NSW 2017
02 9318 1122

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Sculpture 2011, runs from January 20 to February 13
Global Gallery
5 Comber Street
Paddington NSW 2021
02 9360 5728

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Tom of Blokeland, by Will Coles runs from January 22 to February 6
Wilson Street Gallery
5/30-34 Wilson Street
Newtown NSW 2042
02 9516 3144

While I am on the topic of Newtown, I should also mention a brilliant website devoted to the suburb, developed by the talented archivists at the City of Sydney Archives.
The Newtown Project features maps, history, biographies and loads of other fascinating bits of information about the suburb. 
There is a great feature called A Short History of the Streets of Newtown, which alphabetically lists all the streets in the suburb with a brief explanation of how they came to be named.
O'Connell Street, for example, was named after Lieutenant-General Maurice O'Connell, the son-in law of Governor William Bligh, who was captain of the ship during the famous mutiny of HMAS Bounty. 
There is also a brilliantly researched biography by Matt Murphy about Eliza Donnithorne aka Miss Havisham.
The Newtown Project is a must read for the neighbourhood's residents who are also asked to contribute their own stories to the site. It is also interesting reading for anyone curious about Sydney history, its inner suburbs or its people. 
I was also excited to learn that archivist Naomi Crago included a link to My Darling Darlinghurst on the site, even though my blog has nothing to do with Newtown. Well, until this post, that is. 

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Thursday, January 13, 2011

Darlinghurst: People: Florence Bartley

While snooping around the City of Sydney Archives recently I discovered the answer to one of Kings Cross life's greatest mysteries: Who is Florence Bartley? I had posed this question in my post on the Kings Cross Library, back in November. But no one responded with the answer, so the question continued to haunt me.
The Kings Cross Library was once known as the Florence Bartley Library, and was located in a building right next to Fitzroy Gardens. Built in 1958, the building was designed by the City of Sydney council's own architects, yet despite winning the prestigious Sir John Sulman Medal for architecture, the library was demolished in 1997.
So who is - or was - Ms Bartley and why did she have a library named after her? 
While doing some photocopying at the City of Sydney Archives I was excited to find - propped up on a cabinet, against a wall - the old plaque from the library (picture above), which has this inscription:

''The Kings Cross branch of the City of Sydney public library was named the Florence Bartley Library in recognition and appreciation of the outstanding honorary service rendered to the city generally and to the Kings Cross area in particular by Mrs Florence Bartley, whilst Lady Mayoress of Sydney. 1958.''

So Ms Bartley was the wife of Reginald James Bartley, a businessman and company director, who was Mayor of Sydney in 1943-44 and 1946-48. You can see a photograph of Reg wearing his mayoral robes here
Mr Bartley was behind the successful push for the demolition of the 1840s mansion, Maramanah, which I wrote about in my Fitzroy Gardens post:

''After the war, in 1946, Maramanah made the headlines when returned servicemen illegally moved in to the property, saying they had nowhere else to live. Supporters rallied outside and made public appeals for furniture and cooking utensils for the squatters. The squatters were accused of being Communist agitators, as the political party hosted a number of meetings at Maramanah during this time.''

Maramanah was demolished in the 1950s. Previously I couldn't find a decent photograph of Maramanah, but the City of Sydney Archives digital photograph bank has proved to be an online mine of photographic treasures and you can see a picture of the house here, just before it was demolished.
Mr Bartley also tried to push for the demolition of the Hyde Park Barracks and the Sydney Mint on Macquarie Street, in the Sydney CBD, to ''make way for modern structures''. The Sydney Mint is the oldest public building in our city, so I'm glad Bartley the Bulldozer didn't win that fight.
Mr Bartley died in January 1982. 
I still haven't discovered a photograph of Mrs Bartley and have yet to learn what exactly her ''outstanding honorary service'' entailed and whether or not she is alive or dead.


But the City of Sydney Archives digital photographic bank has a groovy picture of the Florence Bartley Library, which you can see here I have now posted above because the link didn't work.