Then and now: Fashion Street

So much for that saying, ‘The more things change, the more they stay the same.’ 
Looking at the photos below, I’d say that while things have changed a lot, very little (besides the location) has stayed the same.

Check out 262-270 Collins Street as it looked in 1969, when Angus O’Callaghan took this photo and called it ‘Fashion Street’.

'Fashion Street'. Photo by Angus O'Callaghan.
I love how his photos are often cropped square. He'd be a hit on Instagram.

Now check out how it looked the other week when I took a photo during my lunch break and called it ‘Non-descript city scene’… Not a groovy old car or chic pill-box hat in sight.

'Non-descript city scene'. Photo by Yours Truly. 

The glory days

A 12-story modernist gem, the Hotel Australia opened in 1939. Beneath nine floors of lavishly appointed bedrooms, there were three levels of public space, including the Venetian Court Ballroom, the Main Dining Room, several bars, restaurants and even two basement cinemas.

Hotel Australia dining room. Photo: Wolfgang Sievers, 1969. Courtesy NLA (nla.pic-vn3309841)

The hotel was a hit with Melbourne society from the get-go. The Packer family kept a suite there for 25 years; Robert Menzies dined there so often they named an omelette after him; and Harold and Zara Holt held their wedding reception there (as did my colleague Norm, who’s featured in this blog before).

Attached to the hotel was a shopping arcade which led through to Little Collins Street. Thousands of pedestrians passed through on a daily basis; many of them commuters who’d stop at one of the hotel’s bars for an after-work bevvy on their way home.

One of the hotel bars. Photo: Wolfgang Sievers, 1969. Courtesy NLA (nla.pic-vn3309872)

Yet rather like another well-known Melbourne grand-dame, Dame Edna Everage, the Hotel Australia’s glitz’n’glam was shot through with a distinctly risqué vibe. Almost from the day it opened, the hotel was popular with the city’s gay population, and during World War II, it was the hang-out for frisky servicemen on the prowl. The cocktail bar and one of the basement theatrettes were acknowledged pick-up joints. 

According to one website I came across, the hotel was even offering a call-girl service by the 1960s. Camp romance and girls for hire: that’s what I call covering all bases! 

Centreway Arcade on the other side of the street: Photo by Wolfgang Sievers, 1967
Courtesy NLA (nla.pic-vn3314126)

Sadly, when the famous Southern Cross Hotel opened in 1962, it stole much of Hotel Australia’s thunder, soon becoming the new in-crowd favourite. Neither hotel survived into this century. The Hotel Australia was demolished in 1989 (ten years before the Southern Cross) to make way for the shiny new Australia on Collins shopping arcade. 

Now Australia on Collins has been demolished to make way for ‘luxury shopping precinct’ St Collins Lane. The more things change, the more they stay the same? Hmmm. Maybe there is something in that after all...

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The Palais de Danse, a casualty of St Kilda’s fiery curse?

As most readers of this blog would know, the area currently known as the ‘St Kilda Triangle’ wasn’t always just the Palais Theatre, assorted palm trees and grassy slopes, and a dirty great car park.

Indeed, there was a time when the Palais Theatre wasn’t the only Palais in town. Next to it stood the Palais de Danse, a grand music hall of sorts (as well as a famed example of interwar architecture), which attracted party people from near and far.Nothing's changed there, then.

Photo: courtesy of Walking Melbourne (Palais Theatre to the left)

Mind you, the building we now know as the Palais Theatre was once also called the Palais de Danse (before its stint as Palais Pictures, which preceded its current incarnation as the Palais Theatre)…Confused? Yeah, me too.

Anyway, the Palais de Danse that concerns us here is the one built to the north of the current Palais Theatre in 1925 and designed by none other than Walter Burley Griffin and his wife Marion, NOT the Palais de Danse that is now the Palais Theatre! Got it?

Here’s an old photo of the Palais de Danse with the Palais Theatre (then Palais Pictures) and Luna Park, to put it in perspective.

L-R: Luna Park, Palais Theatre, Palais de Danse in the 1930s. Photo: Palais Theatre website

Stardust memories

In 1962, the poetically named Stardust Lounge was built, adjoining the Palais de Danse. Much to my annoyance, I’ve been unable to find anything out about this particular nocturnal haunt: the perils of not being a trained historian, I suppose. (If anyone reading this remembers going there, do get in touch!)

The Stardust Lounge. Too bad there are no punters to be seen. Photo: State Library of Victoria

 Photo: State Library of Victoria

Towering inferno

But by December 27, 1968, the Stardust Lounge and the Palais de Danse were gone, burnt down in a huge fire that would ensure they went down in history (and flames) as casualties of St Kilda’s so-called ‘curse’. Nobody was ever charged. (Intriguingly, the Palais de Danse caught fire soon after being built too, but from what I can ascertain, that one was salvageable).

1968 St Kilda Stardust Lounge and Palais de Danse on fire" by Jason Mervyn Barnett. Licensed under Public domain via Wikimedia Commons

Could it really be a curse? Or is St Kilda some kind of weird firebug vortex? 

The burnt-out ruins. Photo: Herald Sun

Whatever the truth may be, the fact remains that the suburb has seen more than its fair share of massive blazes over the years: eleven of them in 88 years, which have caused serious damage or complete destruction to some very significant buildings (the most recent being Donovan’s restaurant in August).

But the mystery doesn’t stop there. A few years after the Palais de Danse and Stardust Lounge burned down, the Palace Theatre was built on the same site… only to suffer a similarly fiery fate in 2007.
 
Anyway, here’s what the site looks like now:

Facing the bay

Facing up towards the Esplanade

To quote the great man himself, William Shatner… weird or what?

Then and now: time-warping in Port Phillip Arcade

I’d never been in Port Phillip Arcade until a couple of weekends ago — it just hadn’t registered in my consciousness, despite its Flinders Street frontage and intriguing metal King Neptune sculpture above the entrance. Compared to some of this city’s better known, grander arcades (Block Arcade, for example) Port Phillip Arcade isn’t what you’d call a head-turner.

In fact, with the exception of Neptune, it’s rather drab.

 
Still, there’s something defiantly no-frills and untrendy about it, which in this faddish age is kinda sweet, I guess. Home to cheap’n’cheerful Asian eateries, a cake-decorating emporium, an enormous stamp shop that’s apparently been there since the year dot, an engraver and a café, Port Phillip Arcade is nothing if not utilitarian.

But let’s face it: it’s seen better days…

Photo: Wolfgang Sievers, 1969 (National Library of Australia)

Photo: Wolfgang Sievers, 1969 (State Library of Victoria)

Photo: Wolfgang Sievers, 1969 (National Library of Victoria)

These gorgeous photos by Wolfgang Sievers show the arcade looking shiny and modern, with its American coffee shop and its ‘cake bar’ (anyone know what a hamburger puff is?).

Photo: Wolfgang Sievers, 1969 (State Library of Victoria)

I’m guessing Lillian Lingerie (below) catered more to the budget-minded shopper than the babelicious if the window display is anything to go by. 

Check out the painting above the doorway of the store next to Lillian's! Photo: Wolfgang Sievers, 1969 (State Library of Victoria).

For those whose historical interests extend to ye olde colonial times, here’s an interesting fact: Port Phillip Arcade stands on the site of the former Port Phillip Club Hotel, a venerable old building dating from 1838. But who should come along to demolish it in 1960? None other than the notorious Whelan the Wrecker — a name synonymous with the loss of much of Melbourne’s pre-modern architectural heritage… 

Photo: Wolfgang Sievers, 1969 (State Library of Victoria)

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Can you believe that this blue-tiled beauty….

The Southern Cross Hotel in all its glory. Photo: http://www.nealprince-asid.com

…was demolished to make way for this beacon of blandness?

 
Admittedly, by the time it was closed in 1995 (demolition came a few years later), the Southern Cross Hotel  was past its prime, its blue tiles having long since given way to a drab brown façade, but surely its historical significance alone should have ensured its survival?

Designed by Welton Becket, the architect responsible for mid-century LA landmarks such as the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion and the Capitol Records Building, the Southern Cross Hotel boasted more than 430 rooms, eight restaurants, Melbourne’s first-ever ten-pin bowling alley (in the basement, no less), a massive ballroom and a shopping plaza. Its vividly coloured interior was masterminded by Neal Prince, director of interior decorating for the Intercontinental Hotel Corporation. 

Wilawa Cocktail Lounge. Photo: http://www.nealprince-asid.com

Southern Cross Hotel plaza, as photographed by Wolfgang Sievers. Photo: NLA

Lifestyles of the rich, famous… and fab

Such was the excitement about this flashy American-style establishment located on Exhibition Street between Bourke and Little Collins, that its August 1962 opening was even broadcast on local TV! Ushering in a new era of world-class accommodation and customer service, the Southern Cross Hotel quickly became the place to stay for visiting dignitaries and celebrities, hosting the likes of Frank Sinatra, Judy Garland, Marlene Dietrich and Roger Moore, plus a cavalcade of prime ministers and presidents. Over the decades, it was the venue of choice for the Logies, the Brownlow Medal and various Liberal Party shindigs.

But the Southern Cross Hotel’s main claim to fame was for hosting The Beatles, who stayed there during the Melbourne leg of their 1964 Aussie tour (almost 50 years ago to the day).

John and Paul saying g'day to the heaving throng, June 1964

No less than 20,000 screaming fans crammed the surrounding streets trying to catch a glimpse of the Fab Four — a spectacle that was televised live for those who didn't make the scene. I can’t think of a single star who could pull that off today. But the appearance of John, George, Paul and Ringo on the Southern Cross’s balcony caused pandemonium, and sealed the hotel’s place in history.

Can you imagine this many teenyboppers turning out for One Direction?

After they left, enterprising staff tore up their bed sheets and sold the strips — marked with the name of the Beatle who’d slept on them — to raise money for charity. I wonder if any survive to this day?

Neville Waller, photographer for Everybody's magazine, captured The Beatles hanging out in their twelfth-floor digs.

Nice sandals, George

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Then and now: Tram Town!

And now for something completely different: the memories — and amazing photos — of an ex-tram-driver. As someone who’s regularly heard bad-mouthing her local tram in no uncertain terms (96, I hate you!), this has been quite a revelation.

Peter Bruce started with the Melbourne and Metropolitan Tramways Board in 1966, and worked for them until 1977. A railway enthusiast since he was a toddler, his interest in trams started with the job. He also happened to be handy with a camera, which resulted in photos like this:

St Kilda Road, c. 1968. Photo: Peter Bruce

This photo is both familiar and strange. In the foreground, we see the number 8 tram to Toorak, still going strong today. (Peter tells me the number 4 behind it has since become the 67 service.) The iconic Flinders Street Station dome is hard to miss, and the spire of St Paul’s Cathedral dominates the horizon.

In the distance, the former Carlton and United Breweries site is just visible, with its rooftop logo and a ghostly ‘Victoria Bitter’ sign beneath it. ‘The Wales’ (Bank of NSW) is now Westpac (in a different building), while the Olympic Tyres sign twinkling coquettishly in the centre of the image also appears in the Angus O’Callaghan photo I featured in my first blog post. The Arts Centre had yet to be built (construction started in 1973), and the me Bank skyscraper is nowhere to be seen.

Peter explains another big difference between then and now: “City Road, which now passes underneath St Kilda Road, crossed on the level then. You can see distant traffic there in this shot.” And speaking of traffic, check out all the cool cars: a Mini, the front right corner of a Holden, a few Beetles, just to name a few.

Flash forward to 2014, and this is what you get:

Try as I might, I couldn't get both the Flinders St station dome and the Cathedral spire to show.

Peak hour squeeze

Hands up who finds the peak-hour tram-crush hard to endure? Rest assured, you’re not the first. Says Peter, trams “could be very crowded especially in the am and pm peaks and the connies [conductors] had to work hard to collect all the fares and keep the car (tram, but trammies always referred to them as cars) as close to time as possible. That required close co-operation between driver and conductor.” Beats Myki’s uncooperative attitude, I reckon.

Clarendon St & Albert Rd, c. 1968. Photo: Peter Bruce

The photo above shows the number 12 — “the equivalent of today’s 112 which runs from the corner of Fitzroy and Park Streets, St Kilda to St. Vincent’s Plaza.” This is what it looks like now:

To take this photo, I had to brave a tsunami of 4WDs and luxury sedans flooding out of Albert Park (what is it about so-called ‘sporty’ people and their SUVs?). While the gate, tree and house to the left remain, the pub and dry-cleaner to the right are no longer there.

Breakdown shakedown

Asked about whether trams broke down very often back in the 60s and 70s, Peter says, “The old trams didn’t break down very often and we’d always try to limp along so as not to delay the rest of the service.” (so what happened, Metlink?)

But he’s pretty diplomatic about how today’s trams stack up in comparison. “Trammies then were expected to use initiative to prevent avoidable delays; today they are not allowed to. Risk management is necessary but it has become an industry and thus has to continually justify its existence by finding more risks.”

Park Street at Kingsway, South Melbourne, c. 1968. Photo: Peter Bruce

There’s the number 4 again, at an intersection that’s completely unrecognisable today, Park Street and Kingsway. The 67 no longer takes that route, but then, I doubt you can get Voca dictation machines anymore either, if the photo below is any indication...

Believe it or not, this is the Park Street-Kingsway intersection today

Fairweather friends

One of my pet tram peeves is how they immediately go haywire when the weather changes. Peter recalls them being a bit hardier back in the day: “The weather, rain that is, had to be pretty heavy and sustained to badly affect the service, basically there had to be about 200mm flooding over the tracks.”

Number 11 at Park and Heather Streets, South Melbourne, c. 1968. Photo: Peter Bruce

“Number 11 was not a passenger-carrying tram. It was what was called a Scrubber Car and it existed to clean the head of the rail. The service at this intersection is the same today, route 1, South Melbourne Beach-East Coburg.”
 

  
As the photo above so hideously demonstrates, Park Street is no longer a swoonfest of EHs, Cortinas, original Mini wagons, EJs and other automotive gems. The milk bar advertising Craven Filter ciggies on the corner now appears to be vacant, if not downright derelict (that’s it with the graffitied wall), and a roundabout has since been built to moderate the traffic flow (interestingly, Peter recalls that “motor traffic in those days was much lighter but much less disciplined!”)

One thing that’s much the same is the towering council flat high-rise up the top of Park Street.

The television effect

Perhaps the most fascinating difference between then and now is the impact of television on peoples’ lifestyles (and their tram-going habits). Whereas the majority of PT passengers these days sit there glued to their mobile device, back then, people had to wait til they got home for their entertainment fix — the goggle box.

As Peter explains: “After about 8.00 or 8.30pm, the trams didn’t carry many people and that has to do with popular culture, TV. Most of the suburban picture theatres had closed down shortly after the advent of TV in 1956-57 and most people were glued to the box after they got home from work.”
 
Well, with shows like Go!! to be had, who could blame them?

A note about Peter’s photography:
“In 1968 I bought a Pentax Spotmatic which was a camera and lens system which enabled enthusiastic amateurs to buy a great camera at a reasonably affordable price. Most of the Japanese optical companies made very good cameras in this price range. I nearly always took black and white photos as I had my own darkroom.”

By the way, any trainspotters out there might like Peter's blog, I Was a Teenage Railfan, while tram-nuts will dig his online photo gallery here.

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Then and now

Then and now

Where once there was this…

Wolfgang Sievers: Elegant shopping at La Pastorale Frocks, 125 Collins Street, Melbourne, 1965 (National Library of Australia)

…and this…

Wolfgang Sievers: Pedestrians in Collins Street, 1964

There is now this…

Image: Grand Hyatt Hotel (http://melbourne.grand.hyatt.com/)

Was La Pastorale boutique one of Whelan the Wrecker’s innumerable demolition victims? I’ve been unable to find out. But the demolition company did become notorious in the 1960s for its role in the destruction of many Collins Street buildings, so it’s not inconceivable. 

To be honest, I have nothing against the Grand Hyatt (well, besides the fact that it's far beyond my budget), and it certainly lives up to expectations of what a five-star hotel at the Paris end of Collins Street should be … but it’s not exactly La Pastorale, is it? Not a crazy paving stone in sight, much less a hoity-toity shop mannequin.


A note about the photographer

You’ll be seeing a lot more of Wolfgang Sievers’ (AO) work on this blog. A German-born photographer who arrived in Australia aboard the P&O Cormoran in 1938, he settled in Melbourne, where he lived until his death in 2007 at the ripe old age of 93. 

Having fled Germany after being conscripted by the Luftwaffe to be an aerial photographer, he later enlisted in the Australian Army, serving between 1942 and 1946. On his return, he built a prolific and influential career photographing primarily architecture and industry.