Suburban Sydenham: A Mixed and Changing Landscape of Grand Estates, Workers’ Cottages, Industrial Concentration and Airport Encroachment

Aviation history, Built Environment, Heritage & Conservation, Leisure activities, Local history, Politics

Sydenham is a tiny inner suburb of Sydney which sits on traditional Cadigal land, part of the Eora nation, some eight kilometres south-west of the CBD. In the formative colonial period Sydenham was subsumed under a wider area known as Bulanaming which stretched from Petersham to Cook’s River  and included  a chunk of undesirable swampy land  (Gumbramorra Swamp).

(Map: www.dictionaryofsydney.org/)

Grand designs Sydenham
From the 1850s on, the better land on the eastern part of the suburb was turned into grand estates for well-to-do colonial businessmen. These large villa estates occupied an area from Unwins Bridge Road back to Cooks River Road (later renamed Princes Highway). Perhaps the pick of these “large country retreats” in Sydenham, located between Reilly and Grove Streets, was the Grove Estate, with its two-storey Georgian villa, owned by John George Church. Adjoining the Grove Estate was ironmonger Richard Reilly’s Tivoli Estate with a similarly impressive Georgian villa [Meader, Chrys, Sydenham, Dictionary of Sydney, 2008, http://dictionaryofsydney.org/entry/sydenham, viewed 25 Dec 2020].

The working class swamped
Commencing in the 1880s, the grand estates started to be broken up by subdivision and the suburb’s complexion took on a recognisable working class character. Rows of Victorian cottages sprang up, many occupied by workers at the nearby Albion and other brickworks in nearby St Peters. At the same time developers sold cheap, unviable land in the swamp area to the working class. This was the notorious Tramvale Estate—badly designed, lacking in basic sewerage facilities, low-lying, prone to flooding and poor drainage—resulting in the spread of disease, plagues of mosquitos in summer and an all-pervasive, persistent stench, leaving the owners holding what amounted to a “white elephant” they couldn’t re-sell (Meader).

Adjoining suburb: Cooks River Road, St Peters (1935) 🔻

(Photo: State Library of NSW)

Industrial landscape and dichotomy
The swamp was finally drained in the 1890s and the land on it repurposed for heavy industry and engineering works. Factories took root, such as Australian Woollen Mills and the Sydney Steel Company (supplier of steel for the Sydney Harbour Bridge construction). By the early 20th century Sydenham had taken on a twofold complexion: an industrial western part and a primarily residential eastern part (Meader)

The post-WWII period brought an influx of migrants to the inner west suburb, mostly Greeks, Macedonians, Croatians, Serbs and Slovenes from the former Yugoslavia, Turks and later Vietnamese. In the 1950s and 60s Sydenham proved a good recruiting ground for young athletic Aboriginal men who would go on to play rugby league for the Newtown club (Meader).

🔺 Sydenham farms

Sydenham cultural and entertainment ‘hub’  
Sydenham has at best been only modestly endowed with shopping options  (a handful of shops trailing off from the railway station) in comparison with  surrounding urban hubs like Marrickville, the local Sydenham community could boast a pub (the General Gordon) and a cinema, the Sydenham Picture Palace, later superseded by the art deco Rex Theatre (47 Unwins Bridge Rd) closed in 1959 and converted into a roller-drome in 1960. Sydenham at one point also had its own live theatre venue, Norman McVicker’s Pocket Playhouse (94 Terry Street), which operated from 1957 to 1973 [‘Pocket Playhouse’, www.budgeebudgee.wordpress.com].

🔻 Vivien Leigh attending the Pocket Playhouse with proprietor Norman McVicker, 1961

From under the radar to under the runway  
In the early 1990s the Federal government spearheaded a plan to add a third runway to Sydney Kingsford Smith Airport  which presaged irreparable change to Sydenham’s (eastern) residential zone. The scheme was vigorously opposed at a grass-roots level and supported by a Coalition of (thirteen) Sydney Councils including Marrickville Council (although it later did a volte-face and sided with the government). Although supposed to be ‘voluntary’, some Sydenham residents who were reluctant to sell and move were ‘persuaded’ to comply by intolerable noise levels for residents from the airport just 2km away and from adjacent demolition work in progress [‘The fight to save Sydenham’, (Tom Wilson), Green Left Review, 24-Oct-1995, Issue 208, www.greenleftreview.org.au].  When the dust had settled, in excess of over 120 Sydenham houses had been acquired and demolished for the runway go-ahead…this clean-out were described by the Sydney Morning Herald as the airport “gobbling up a whole suburb”. Only a solitary cottage of the row of historic dwellings in the frontline Railway Road survived the decimation, No 19, “Stone Villa” (now an artists’ studio).

PostScript: Sydenham Green  
By way of compensation for the demolished houses in Railway Rd, Marrickville Council was handed back the land in 1994…after deliberation the Council turned it into Sydenham Green, a  public park with ‘funky’ community sculptures and a skate park—and being directly under the flight path of the third runway—a quirky arch monument of sorts recounting the local community’s valiant efforts to stop its realisation. By its very presence, Sydenham Green stands as an “everyday reminder of how aircraft noise tore the heart out of a suburb” (Meader).

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both the Grove and the Tivoli villas were demolished during WWI

largest employer in the Marrickville Municipality, >7,500 staff

known as Marrickville Station until 1895 when the Bankstown line opened and Marrickville got its own railway station

a belated casualty was Australia’s first Coptic Church (24A Railway Road), which had dodged the authorities’ demolition plans for two decades only to see a fire reduce its survival efforts to ashes in 2017

Germania: From Nazi Showcase Airport to the People’s “Symbol der Freiheit”

Aviation history, Built Environment, Heritage & Conservation, Regional History

Few places in Germany and Berlin have experienced the journey of change and transition that Tempelhof Airport (Flughafen Berlin-Tempelhof) has. The Nazis commenced the construction of its colossal showcase airport in 1936 on the site of a pre-existing (Weimar Republic-built) airport. Even in its pre-airport days, it’s land use had a nexus with aviation – from 1887 it was home to a balloon detachment of the Prussian Army.

 der Berliner Garnison

Prior to it becoming an airport in the 1920s Tempelhof Field was used primarily as a military parade ground, and in addition it played an early role in the development of Berlin football (the pioneering BFC Fortuna club). It’s next brush with aeronautical endeavour came in 1909 when US aviator Orville Wright took the brothers’ bi-plane, the ‘Wright Flyer’, for a spin around the field.

A mega-scale marvel of civil engineering
Built on a scale to be in synch with the values of strength and power projected by the rest of Hitler’s Germania building ‘Fantasia’^^, Tempelhof—the name derives from it having originally been land occupied by the medieval Order of Knights Templars—was an “icon of Nazi architecture: (with a complex of) huge austere buildings in totalitarian style (in the shape of a quadrant up to 1.2 km in length), replete with imposing imperial eagles made from stone” [‘Berlin: A historic airport reinvents itself’, (Eric Johnson), Julius Bär, 28-May-2019, www.juliusbar.com]. Designed for the Führer by Ernst Sagebiel, the out of all proportion complex boasted 9,000 rooms, multiple entrance doors, reliefs and sculptures including a giant aluminium eagle head.

Located just four kilometres south of Berlin’s central Tiergarten, the Nazi airport was notably innovative in its day – eg, separate levels for passengers and luggage; windows spanning the floor-to-ceiling to convey as much light as possible inside the terminal [‘The story of Berlin’s WWII Tempelhof Airport which is now Germany’s largest refugee shelter’, (Sam Shead), The Independent, 20-Jun-2017, www.independent.co.uk].

The vast and cavernous main hall
(Tempelhof Projekt GmbH,www.thf-Berlin.de)

Tempelhof Airport was only ever 80% completed (constructed halted in 1939 with the outbreak of war), and ironically, never used by the Nazis as an airport (they continued to use the original terminal for flights). Instead, the regime used it for armament production and storage, and during the war it served as a prison and a forced-labour plane assembly factory [‘A brief history of Tempelhofer Feld’, (Ian Farrell), Slow Travel Berlin, www.slowtravelberlin.com].

Cold War Tempelhof
After WWII the airport was placed under the jurisdiction of the occupying American forces (under the term of the Potsdam Agreement which formally divided Berlin into four distinct occupation sectors). The airport played a key role in the Berlin Airlift (1948/49) and throughout the Cold War was the main terminal used by the US military to enter West Berlin. To increase Tempelhof’s civil aviation capacity US engineers constructed new runways. With the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989 and German reunification, the American military presence in Berlin wound up (formally deactivated in 1994). Tempelhof continued to be used as a commercial airport but increasingly it was being used primarily for small commuter flights to and from regional destinations [‘Berlin Tempelhof Airport’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org].

(Photo: www.urban75.org/)

A post-aviation future space
In 2008 Tempelhof, partly derelict, was discontinued as an airport. Berliners were polled about its future with the majority wanting to keep it free from redevelopment, a free space for the community. Accordingly, the land was given over to public use. Once a symbol of Nazi brutalist architecture, today its grounds are open to the citizenry as an expression of their freedom. The place is regularly a hive of multi-purpose activity, Berliners engaging in a range of leisure, exercise and cultural pursuits – jogging, cycling, roller-blading, skateboarding, kite-flying, picnicking, trade and art fairs, musical events, etc…the former airport has also been used as film locations (eg, The Bourne Supremacy, Hunger Games) and even as the venue for Formula E motor-racing.

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^^ see the previous post, ‘Germania: Mega-City Stillborn: Hitler’s Utopian Architectural Dream’

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the terminal is 300,000 square metres including hangar space, with an inner, 306- hectare airfield (Tempelhofer Feld)

“the mother of all modern airports” (British architect Norman Foster)

at other times it has been a shelter for refugees

Nancy Bird Trumps Badgery & Co: Sydney’s Long and Tortuous Journey to a Second Airport and the Contest for Naming Rights

Aviation history, Heritage & Conservation, Local history, Regional History, Social History

Sydney’s long-debated second international airport is slated to be completed—in so far as anything can be asserted with any confidence in the post-coronavirus age—by 31st December 2025The site selected and given final approval by the Commonwealth government in 2014, Badgerys Creek, is on 1,780 hectares of land in greater western Sydney in indigenous Darug country.

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(Source: SMH)

The saga begins in 1946. Towra Point (in Sydney’s south) is mooted by the NSW state government as a likely site for the second airport…over the next 40 years at least 20 sites are put forward as prospective locations for another airport to ease congestion at the existing Kingsford Smith Airport. Successive federal governments of differing political hues cast the net far and wide—to the north, south and west of Sydney—in the hope of finding a site that best meets the needs. When the government flags that it favours Somersby (Central Coast) and Galston (northwest) in the early 1970s, outbreaks of NIMBY-ism (vocal grass-roots protests from the locals) leads Canberra to back down. Another candidate, Holsworthy (southwest), is rejected because of an unknown number of unexploded military projectiles littering the site from a nearby army base and its proximity to a nuclear facility, only to be unfathomably resurrected as a prospect in the mid-1990s by the Howard government and then quickly dropped again on grounds of “environmental unsuitability”. Goulburn, 200km southwest of Sydney, too gets shelved – because of the high capital costs involved [‘Second Sydney Airport – A Chronology’, Parliament of Australia, www.aph.gov.au/].

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(Source: www.aph.gov.au/)

Frustrated at the ongoing failure to resolve a viable site for the second airport, the Commonwealth toys with the idea of ditching the whole project and looks at an alternative plan sans second airport – the construction of a third runway at Kingsford Smith Airport and complimenting it with a VFT (very fast train) connecting Sydney and Canberra (the VFT never materialises). By the mid-1980s only two sites remain in the running – Wilton and Badgerys Creek. By 1986 Badgerys Creek is ”last man standing” and the Crown purchases land there. 

Even after settling on the location, progress on the second airport mimics the more inane capers of TV’s Yes Minister – a stop-start pattern of self-limiting actions, deferment of decisions, vacillations. Feasibility and EIS studies come and go, budgetary problems always loom, the Commonwealth and the state government bickers over what form the airport should take, engaging in political points-scoring, etc. The achievement of anything tangible, actual progress, is grotesquely underwhelming. One example will suffice: 1988, the incumbent government proposes to fast track the construction of Badgerys Creek, but no action follows the words. In 1991 another study contradicts this, finding there’s “no pressing need” to rush the second airport. Three more years on and fast tracking is back on the agenda, the new urgency is the 2000 Olympics. But in 1995 it is reported there “has been little or no development at Badgerys Creek” (“token construction works to date”) and later that year the Commonwealth announces that “the airport won’t  be ready for the Sydney Olympics”… and so it goes (‘Second Sydney Airport’). 

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Blue Mountains anti-airport bumper sticker

Consistent with the past fraught nature of the second airport issue, the choice of Badgerys Creek is far from consensual. Opposition from Blue Mountains Council and its residents’ groups is particularly vocal – the litany of objections include its likely impact on the national park’s ecology, the threat to its UNESCO World Heritage site status, health hazards, air and noise pollution, [‘Council study finds airport noise on natural areas overlooked’, WSROC, 08-Dec-2017, www.wsroc.com.au]. Some have again raised the question of whether a second airport is really necessary, arguing that existing airport capacity at Bankstown and Richmond airports could be expanded to lighten the domestic passenger and cargo transport burden on Kingsford Smith [‘Is a new airport at Badgerys Creek really needed?’, (Peter Martin), Sydney Morning Herald, 15-Apr-2014, www.smh.com.au].

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 Future aerotropolis?

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Sorting out the nomenclature
Once the Commonwealth red-inks the Badgerys Creek site in 2014, a media debate ensues over whose name the new airport should bear. The early favourite is Sydney Harbour Bridge engineer John JC Bradfield, strongly lobbied for by politicians from both sides (LNP prime minister and premier, Labor state opposition leader, etc) [‘Bradfield Airport has universal approval’, (Danile Meers), Daily Telegraph, 06-Nov-2014, www.dailytelegraph.com.au]. Others including Wollongong councillors and the Royal Aeronautical Society plump for Lawrence Hargrave, a seminal figure associated with advances in the field of aeronautical pioneering (unlike Bradfield). From a western Sydney viewpoint, a Penrith City councillor makes a pitch for William ‘Billy’ Hart, who flew a box-kite plane (based on Hargrave’s earlier breakthrough invention) from Penrith to Parramatta in 1911 [‘Penrith Council defer naming of Western Sydney Airport site’, (Krystyna Pollard), Liverpool City Champion, 02-Mar-2017, www.liverpoolcitychampion.com.au].

Badgery of Badgerys Creek
The most intriguing candidate, is one with both pioneering credentials like Hargrave and Hart, and real geographical “skin in the game”…(Andrew) Delfosse Badgery, whose family gives its name to the suburb encompassing the airport site—great-grandfather James Badgery settled the area in 1799—was the first person to fly a plane of his own construction in Australia. Badgery flew from Sutton Forest to Goulburn, a distance of less than 50 miles, in 1914). The case for “Delfosse Badgery Airport” is supported by the aviator’s family and the St Marys Historical Society [‘Pilot’s claims has wings: Aviation pioneer Andrew Delfosse Badgery built the first plane in Australia at Badgery’s Creek…and Flew It!’, (Ian Walker), Daily Telegraph, 12-Nov-2014, www.dailytelegraph.com.au].

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 Del Badgery & his 1914 bi-plane
(Picture: Liverpool City Council)

And the winner is? With one eye on gender-inclusiveness and PC “brownie points”, and a nod perhaps to North American precedents, the Morrison government in 2019 opts to name Sydney’s second international airport after Nancy Bird-Walton, a pioneer aviatrix icon of Australia  – for a brief summary of Bird-Walton’s achievements in flight see my blog dated 27-May-2017, ‘Equality at 10,000 Feet: The Pioneer Aviatrix in the Golden Age of Aviation – Part I’. 

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 no bets on the chances of this being a lay down misère, given the vicissitudes of the second airport story

after opposition from the Sutherland Shire local government over concern about noise levels, the Gorton government kills off the scheme in 1969, citing “environmental difficulties”

 indicative of government indecisiveness, Badgerys Creek is on and off the short list of candidates several times over a span of 45 years before the final take-up by the Abbott government   

it is a matter of uncertainty whether Badgery built the plane (a Cauldron bi-plane) on the family farm at Badgerys Creek or at Sutton Forest in the Southern Highlands (Pollard) 

 airports in Niagara-Ontario and Kansas named (respectively) after pioneering aviatrixesDorothy Rungeling and Amelia Earhart 

What Happens to the World’s Airplanes After they are Grounded During the Pandemic?

Aviation history, Commerce & Business, Public health,, Travel

think most people, outside the industry, think the answer to this question would be “not a lot”. Unfortunately for the airlines, being grounded, being not able to utilise their assets to realise revenue, is only the start of the problems. In April it was estimate by the industry researcher Cirium that there were over 16,000 commercial passenger aircraft no longer flying – around 62% (the numbers would not have decreased since then) [‘Here’s What You Do With Two-Thirds of the World’s Jets When They Can’t Fly’, (Anurag Kotoky, David Stringer & Ragini Saxena), Bloomberg, 17-Apr-2020, www.bloomberg.com]. The severity of the blow to the airline industry internationally can hardly be understated, coming soon after IATA (International Air Transport Association) predicted (in December 2019) a US$29.3bn net profit for 2020 [http://airlines.iata.org].


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The norm under coronavirus: flights with a handful of passengers  (Photo: Jennifer Flowers / AFAR

Put simply, while the primary income from the airlines’ raison d’être, the loss of paying passengers, dries up, the fixed costs, the invariables, don’t go away for both the airports and the airlines. Let’s take the airports first, they make look deserted when you glimpse images of them on the internet or television, but they haven’t closed down altogether, they haven’t morphed into ghost towns. Airports still have infrastructure and most still run at least a limited service of domestic flights, and on the international scene, though closed for tourism, emergency flights still happen. So, with people and the coronavirus still around, the airports need upkeep. Surface cleaning with virus and bacteria killing disinfectants, hand-sanitising stations, etc. 

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A Californian “desert dormitory” for grounded jets (Photo: Mark Ralston / AFP via Getty Images)

The immediate problem for airlines in the Covid-19 crisis is where to put the multitude of grounded jets. The optimal place, leaving other considerations aside for a minute, is determined by climate. Aircrafts on the ground, exposed to the elements for any significant length of time, will do best in a dry climate with low humidity. This places the major airlines of Eastern Asia with their wetter, steamier climes at a disadvantage. Conversely, Australia’s great interior continental deserts are a favourable location. QANTAS and some other international airlines have accordingly parked their jets in Alice Springs (Central Australia)✫. In America [‘Parking in a pandemic: Grounded planes scramble for storage space’, (Paul Sillers), CNN, 22-Mar-2020, www.cnn.com]. Similarly, in America, US airlines have sought out long-term storage facilities in the hospitable desert environments of western USA [‘What It Takes for an Airline to Ground Its Fleet Amid Coronavirus’, (Jessica Puckett), Conte Nast Traveler, 31-Mar-2020, www.cntraveler.com].

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Delta jet, Pinal Airpark (reliever airport), Arizona (Photo: Rebecca Sasnett, Arizona Daily Star)

A lot of European airlines are not so lucky, forced to use the local airports in Europe where some of the runways have been decommissioned to make way for the grounded planes. Aircraft parking in some of the European hubs can also be exorbitantly expensive, charging up to US$285 an hour (although the cost varies greatly from location to location). Sometimes the remotely located (long-term) storage facilities are referred to as aircraft ‘boneyards’❈ [‘Aircraft Boneyards, MRO & Storage Facilities in Europe’, Airplane Boneyards, www.airplaneboneyards.com].

Thwarting the nesting birds (Photo: Reuters / Elijah Nouvelage)

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When happens with the planes taken out of service and parked? Although not in current use, they still have to be maintained so that they are ready when the airways open up again. Planes are subjected to regular, heavy mechanical maintenance checks, the hydraulics and the flight control system needs to be finely monitored. When the aircrafts are being stored long-term, the process followed has been described as a kind of ”aeronautical embalming” (Sillers) – fluids require to be drained (to prevent rusting of the landing gear), as the jets are housed al fresco everything needs to be covered and/or protected – the engine intakes and exhaust areas, external instruments, the tyres, the windows, the entire airframe (to prevent corrosion). Maintenance staff also have to check the planes for bird-nests and incursion from insects (grilles are sometimes affixed to keep birds outs). Every two weeks the wheels need to be rotated and the batteries reconnected (Sillers; Kotoky et al). Yes, it’s true to say that aircraft maintenance and storage firms are busy at the present time.

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To try to offset, at least partly, the crippling hit from of the coronavirus crisis, the loss of multi-billion dollars by the industry, some airline companies have switched their (unused) passenger jets to become freight-carriers (in addition to using their usual freighters). Scoot, for instance, in February commenced bi-weekly hauls from Singapore to Nanjing and Guangzhou transporting air cargo only. Cathay Pacific carries freight on passenger-less flights from Hong Kong to three Chinese cities∅ [‘Airplanes Without Passengers Start Coronavirus Recovery’, (Will Horton), Forbes, 10-Mar-2020, www.forbes.com]

 

EndNote: In March, even after extensive international flight restrictions had come into effect, a number of airlines were still undertaking their scheduled flights with zero passengers on board. One of the reasons for such a seemingly nonsensical practice was to abide with EU regulations which require the airlines to fulfil their allotments or risk losing the flight slots [‘Why Airlines Are Flying Empty Ghost Planes’, ((Caroline Delbert), Popular Mechanics 11-Mar-2020, www.popularmechanics.com].

 

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✫ north of five billion dollars’ worth of aircraft enjoy the arid air of Alice Springs Airport (from SilkAir 737s to Singapore 380s) [‘How expensive will air travel be after the Covid-19 crisis?’, (Cynthia Drescher), CNN, (14-May-2020), www.cnn.com]
❈ quite apt for housing a lot of the older, less-efficient planes, which will be retired and either be sold-off or used for parts and then scrapyarded
∅ there’s precious little upside for the airline industry at the moment, but one positive for the jets still in the air is the record low world oil prices at the present