There's some essential maintenance being done on the Dictionary over the Easter long weekend, which might result in some delays or difficulties searching the site. You should still be able to use Browse menus and links within the site to move around. We hope to have everything spruced up again as soon as possible and apologise for any inconvenience.

Girl with a white angora rabbit, 1930s, by Sam Hood. Pic courtesy Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW (Home and Away - 7222)

 

Advertisement for Mr Cavendish de Castell's Dancing Academy, 9 March 1833, The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser, 9 March 1833, p3

One of the many fascinating people on the Dictionary of Sydney is William Castell, ‘professor of dancing’, musician and philanderer who lived in Sydney during the 1830s.

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In May 1789, William Joseph Castell was born in Kilkenny, Ireland. He came from a travelling, theatrical family - his father, Peter Castelli, was a soldier who also worked in the theatre, and his mother Sophia, was a singer and actress. Castell began his own career as a musician - a violinist, violist, double bassist, pianist and organist - in London. In 1826 he fled London, leaving his creditors, his wife Susannah and their four children behind, and went to France in the company of his mistress, Ellen Jones. In 1831, under the assumed name of Cavendish and describing himself as an artist, he set sail for Mauritius accompanied by a Mrs Mary Cecil, who was officially listed as his sister. Mary was in fact Castell’s de facto spouse. Leaving Mauritius quite soon after their arrival due to some social and financial difficulties, Castell and Mary (now known as Miss Cavendish) arrived in Sydney in January 1833. He established a 'Salle de Danse' in their home in Macquarie Place where he taught 'every species of fashionable dancing' under the name or Mr Cavendish de Castell, and hosted regular monthly balls, with one ‘masquerade’ described in the Sydney Monitor : ‘all the fashionables of Australia were present. Elegance in all its pleasing shapes, and the most refined hilarity, reigned throughout the evening.’1

Score to two quadrilles 'Kurry Jong' (Currajong) and the fourth quadrille is 'Woo-loo-moo-loo' by William Castell 1833, Courtesy Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW (MLMSS 7989)

Over the next few years, Castell was embroiled in a series of dubious business ventures and sex scandals before tragedy struck. On 26 January 1839, he and Mary drowned when their boat capsized off Bradleys Head as they were on their way to North Sydney during the annual Anniversary Day regatta celebrations. The Sydney Gazette dramatically reported the accident, maintaining the prevailing brother-sister narrative: ‘He was seen to make towards her as she floated away, and the last words which he was heard to utter, were “Mary dear, don't be afraid - I'll hold you up.”’2 Their deaths were much lamented in Sydney's society. Castell’s 1833 manuscript held at the State Library of NSW contains quadrilles titled 'Kurry Jong' (Kurrajong) and ‘Woo-loo-moo-loo'. It is possibly the earliest known example of a settler Australian musical composition to survive from colonial times.3 Notes 1 MAITLAND RACES The Sydney Monitor, 20 July 1833, p3 via Trove http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article32144190 2 DOMESTIC INTELLIGENCE, The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser, p.2 via Trove http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article2551500 3 Graeme Skinner 'William Joseph Cavendish', Austral Harmony website: http://sydney.edu.au/paradisec/australharmony/cavendish-william-joseph.php   Further reading: Read the Dictionary of Sydney's entry on William Castell by Edward Duyker here. The excellent blog Australian Colonial Dance has a great piece by Heather Blasdale Clarke on the quadrille and its introduction to Sydney society here: The Quadrille Arrives Ann V Beedell, The Decline of the English Musician 1788–1888, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1992 Nicole Cama is a professional historian, writer and curator, and the Executive Officer of the History Council of NSW.  She appears on 2SER on behalf of the Dictionary of Sydney in a voluntary capacity. Listen to the podcast with Nicole & Jess here, and tune in to 2SER Breakfast with Nic Healey on 107.3 every Wednesday morning at 8:15-8:20am to hear more from the Dictionary of Sydney. The Dictionary of Sydney has no ongoing operational funding and needs your help. Make a tax-deductible donation to the Dictionary of Sydney today!

Submissions close for the History Council of NSW's 2018 awards and prizes on 31 March 2018. Students and history professionals are invited to nominate their work for their chance to be a part of the annual awards program, totalling $6,500. Aboriginal History Prize - Encourages students and other beginning historians (up to post-doctoral career) in the writing of Australian Aboriginal history, including Torres Strait Islander history, from original sources. The winner will receive a $1,000 prize. Deen De Bortoli Award for Applied History - Generously funded by the De Bortoli family, the purpose of the award is to encourage historians writing Australian political, social, cultural and environmental history to approach their subjects in ways that use the past to inform contemporary concerns and issues. The winner will receive a citation and a prize of $5,000. Max Kelly Medal - The Max Kelly Medal plus a prize of $500, generously donated by Geoffrey Jones, is awarded annually to a ‘beginning’ historian for a work of excellence in any aspect of Australian history. Further information and nomination forms can be found at the History Council of NSW website here:    History Council of NSW 2018 awards and prizes  Winners will be announced at the Annual History Lecture on 4 September during History Week. This year's lecture 'Warnings from the grave: Death, glory and memory in Australian cemeteries' will be presented by Dr Lisa Murray. You can book your seat to this great event online now here.  

Ai Weiwei,  Law of the Journey, 2017
reinforced PVC with aluminium frame, 312 figures
60 x 6 x 3 m
Installation view (2018) at Cockatoo Island for the 21st Biennale of Sydney
Courtesy the artist and neugerriemschneider, Berlin
Presentation at the 21st Biennale of Sydney was made possible with generous support from the Sherman Foundation
Photograph: Zan Wimberley, Courtesy: Biennale of Sydney

For all its headlines and cutting edge art, the Sydney Biennale is not a new thing. It is a well-established (some might say entrenched) fixture on the Sydney art scene. In fact, the Biennale of Sydney is the third oldest biennale in the world after Venice (established in 1895) and Sao Paulo (in 1951). Listen to Lisa and Nic on 2SER here  It all began back in 1973, when the first Biennale of Sydney was held as part of the opening celebrations of the Sydney Opera House, reflecting the sense of optimism and pride in the city's modernism that was apparent at the time. From its beginnings in this climate, the Biennale of Sydney has continued to push the boundaries of what is acceptable, what art is and where it should be seen, embracin unique venues across the city. While the Art Gallery of NSW was its first hub, the Biennale has always been a multi-venue site. Some of the other venues over the years have included the Sydney Opera House, Paddington Town Hall, the Australian Centre for Photography, and the Museum of Contemporary Art. The idea of the Biennale though is to take art outside of the museum walls. And so the Biennale's curators have placed art in unusual places, outdoors, in industrial settings. Sites have included Hyde Park, the finger wharves at Walsh Bay, and, since 2008, Cockatoo Island has been a major venue for the Biennale. Visitors to the Biennale have the chance to experience contemporary art, curated around an overarching theme, outside of the restrictive, theorised walls of the gallery or museum. This is art in place and art in our world. Cockatoo Island as a venue in particular gives a viewer an opportunity to reflect on Sydney as a place and contemporary issues through some of the best contemporary art in a space layered with Sydney's Aboriginal history, convict history, shipbuilding and industrial history. Some have dismissed the Biennale as 'spectacle', but in many ways the Biennale has been surpassed in spectacle by Sculpture by the Sea and Vivid. The Biennale has always maintained its integrity though with a serious contemporary curator and some hard-hitting themes. Whether you think it's spectacle or arty-farty, the Biennale artworks often consider contemporary issues through the medium of art, and it certainly still presents elements of art as protest as well as beauty. This year's Biennale has some impressive works at Cockatoo Island. Why not catch the free Biennale ferry out there and have a day of history AND contemporary art. You can catch up on all the history of Cockatoo Island on the Dictionary of Sydney too! This year's Sydney Biennale SUPERPOSITION: Equilibrium & Engagement runs from 16 March – 11 June 2018. Curated by Artistic Director Mami Kataoka, it presents the work of 70 artists and artist collectives from 35 countries at the Art Gallery of New South Wales, Artspace, Carriageworks, Cockatoo Island, Museum of Contemporary Art Australia, Sydney Opera House and 4A Centre for Contemporary Asian Art. Head to the Sydney Biennale website for further details: https://www.biennaleofsydney.art/  And to the Cockatoo Island website for details about what's on there too: http://www.cockatooisland.gov.au/whats/21st-biennale-sydney For more history of the Biennale, this weekend there's a series of talks at the Art Gallery of NSW from former Artistic Directors of the Sydney Biennale too. Head here for details and bookings: https://events.biennaleofsydney.art/biennalearchivestoriesweekend/eotr Further Reading Read Lizzie Marshall's entry on the Biennale on the Dictionary here: https://dictionaryofsydney.org/entry/the_biennale_of_sydney and Patrick Fletcher's entry on Cockatoo Island here: https://dictionaryofsydney.org/natural_feature/cockatoo_island Dr Lisa Murray is the Historian of the City of Sydney and the former chair of the Dictionary of Sydney Trust. She is the author of several books, including Sydney Cemeteries: a field guide. She appears on 2SER on behalf of the Dictionary of Sydney in a voluntary capacity. Listen to the podcast with Lisa & Nic here, and tune in to 2SER Breakfast with Nic Healey on 107.3 every Wednesday morning at 8:15-8:20 am to hear more from the Dictionary of Sydney. With no ongoing operational funding, the Dictionary of Sydney needs your help to survive. Make a donation to the Dictionary of Sydney and claim a tax deduction!

Tanya Bretherton, The Suitcase Baby, Hachette Australia, 2018, ISBN 9780733639227, pp 1-327

In November 1923, a small suitcase was found washed up and abandoned on the beautiful, picturesque, bushland shores of Athol Beach on the edge of Mosman. Inside was the body of a healthy baby girl of about three weeks of age. Cause of death was not simple drowning. Rather, she had been crudely strangled by a piece of string and suffocated by a pretty embroidered handkerchief which had been unceremoniously stuffed into her tiny mouth. Both instruments of death were clues which would eventually lead the police to her mother, and a whole cast of other colourful characters besides. The contents of the gruesome suitcase were indeed deeply shocking. But sadly, the killing or abandonment (or both) of newborn babies was all too common in 1920s Sydney. Many, and who knows just how many, were quite simply never recovered, lost forever to the waters of the deep, or dropped and left to decompose in a well, or abandoned on grassy vacant wastelands on the city’s less inhabited outskirts. Numerous women gave birth in secret in backyard dunnies and simply left the baby where it fell. Some were later discovered, many more were not. Others were discovered in very public spaces, at railway stations or on trains, bobbing on the waters of the harbour, found in Hyde Park, or simply left in bins or amongst the sand dunes of the eastern beaches. Some were swaddled, others still naked from birth. A few were discovered just alive in church porches or on the steps of the city’s charitable institutions. They might have been the relatively lucky ones, but they faced an uncertain future. Their lives henceforth would be shaped by their experiences post maternal abandonment. Were they institutionalised? Did they become a part of the boarding out system or were they later adopted?  And that uncertain outcome was itself a whole other lottery of life, oscillating between the vagaries of orphanages, temporary parents in it merely for pecuniary gain, or, for the lucky ones, the warm loving embrace from adults who were genuine and heartfelt carers who truly wanted to parent. Today the issue of abandoned babies and, relatedly, infanticide is deeply disturbing and macabre. Yet it is a crime with a very long history. This was certainly not a 1920s phenomenon. Throughout the nineteenth century, Sydney had long been accustomed to waves of what might only be described as ‘infanticide epidemics’. The sad and always tragic history of infanticide, stretches back much further again, across cultures, continents and centuries. Tanya Bretherton has written a fascinating and compelling book around the ghoulish discovery on Athol Beach. From this one single incident, the reader is drawn into a fascinating story of crime, desperation, abandonment and poverty. This is a story of one woman’s fight for survival in which Sydney in the 1920s is vividly brought to life, but it is also a truly epic family saga. An almost century spanning tale of emigration and exile, from famine stricken Ireland to the rough mill towns outside of Glasgow, to Wellington in New Zealand, the boarding houses of Sydney, the solitary cells at Long Bay prison and back to Scotland again. Sarah Boyd was a literate and skilled Scottish seamstress. Religious, quiet and always sober, she was perhaps somewhat naive in her relations with two failed lovers who both abandoned her when she was ‘with child’.  But then again, maybe that was her bad luck and spoke more about unequal gender relations and the harshness of social mores in the 1920s? As an unmarried, deeply devoted mother to her son Jimmie, Sarah lived in constant and enduring poverty. Yet she was also a brave and fearless emigrant who left home and travelled alone to the other side of the world to avoid family shame. When she finally met a man who could provide her and her son with a stable and permanent home in country New South Wales she made a terrible and life altering decision, one that did not just change her life but also the life of her new born baby and that of her much loved son. This is a deeply and profoundly sad book. It starts wretchedly and ends simply heartbreakingly. The theme of exile and emigration both as a choice and escape, but also as a punishment for social transgression runs deep throughout, as does the associated sadness and loss, sorrow and grief of the emigrant experience, chosen or otherwise. Perhaps readers would be wise not to read the book in one long sitting as I did. At its close, I was rather overwhelmed by a bleak dark cloud, which then turned into indignation at the sheer harshness of life for the struggling and the impoverished in those post war years, and, later on too, as the trajectories of Sarah's son Jimmie’s life are further fleshed out with utterly heart rendering results. For him, like so many other British children of the 1920s and beyond, the promises of ‘Oranges and Sunshine’, were simply not to be. The Suitcase Baby is expansive and gripping and there are unexpected twists and turns along the way. It will appeal to true crime readers and lovers of social, cultural and gender history. This is an important and, to date, untold Sydney story offering a fascinating insight into life as it was sometimes lived in the post war era. But it does have some flaws. It has been clearly, extensively and meticulously researched. The author is a sociologist with a forensic approach to accuracy and complex story telling, yet academic historians will criticise the paucity of footnotes and references. The book lacks even a bibliography, and many readers will regret the absence of an index. The awkward and clunky in text references to historians and experts can sometimes be rather grating. On occasion, despite the obvious research that has gone into the book, it also becomes rather generalising and the reader is left wanting something a little more particular and specific. As a historian, The Suitcase Baby certainly did appeal to my connections with stories of lives lived in the past. In a novelist’s hands, this story might have soared just that little bit higher, but it also moved me emotionally, which is obviously the sign of a deeply compelling book. Dr Catie Gilchrist March 2018            

Attempted assassination of HRH Duke of Edinburgh at Clontarf, by Samuel Calvert , courtesy National Library of Australia (nla.pic-an9542884)

It’s been 150 years since Prince Alfred’s tour of Sydney came to an abrupt halt on 12 March 1868 when an attempt was made on his life during a picnic in the harbourside suburb of Clontarf.  Listen to Nicole and Nic on 2SER here  Prince Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh, was the second son of Queen Victoria and on a world tour aboard HMS Galatea when he arrived in Sydney on 21 January 1868. On 12 March, the Duke had agreed to attend a picnic at Clontarf. The event was a fundraiser for the Sydney Sailors’ Home, organised by Sydney barrister and politician William Manning. As the Prince walked across the park at Clontarf with Manning, two shots were fired. His would-be assassin was Henry James O'Farrell, an Irishman, who, it eventuated, had some serious mental health issues. O'Farrell initially claimed to be a member of a secret Irish republican movement, more broadly known as the Fenians, but no evidence was found to substantiate this claim and he later retracted. Newspapers of the time were full of the reports of the wild scene. The Empire newspaper published one eye-witness account that detailed how, despite cries of ‘The Prince is shot! The Duke is killed!’, the crowd did not immediately react:

HRH Alfred, the Duke of Edinburgh 1867-8, courtesy Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW (P1/18)

‘They could not believe that in such a scene of innocent gaiety and enjoyment any human being could be so diabolically wicked as to commit so dreadful a crime’.1 Soon afterward though a scene of ‘indescribable confusion and distress’ unfolded as the crowd realised the Prince had only narrowly avoided a fatal shots. One of the bullets had glanced off the Prince's ribs, inflicting only a slight wound. O’Farrell escaped the crowd’s calls for an on-the-spot lynching, but was arrested on the spot, and later convicted of attempted murder. Despite pleas for clemency he was hanged at Darlinghurst Gaol on 21 April. Prince Alfred recovered at Sydney Hospital, where he was nursed by the newly appointed Lady Superintendent Lucy Osburn, and left the colony in early April. The incident had far-reaching consequences, fuelling anti-Irish sentiments and sectarian tension, with an outpouring of prejudice and racism towards Catholics and Irish in Sydney and the around the country. Sydney's citizens also opened a subscription fund to build a new hospital in the Prince’s honour - the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital. Today, a plaque under a Norfolk Pine at the eastern end of Clontarf Beach marks the spot where the infamous incident occurred.

O'Farrell in Darlinghurst 1868, By Francis Charles Needham (Viscount) Newry, courtesy National Library of Australia (nla.pic-an6332101)

Notes: 1 An Account by an Eye-witness. (1868, March 13). Empire (Sydney, NSW : 1850 - 1875), p. 2. Retrieved March 12, 2018, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article60851231 Further reading: Read the Dictionary of Sydney entry on the assassination attempt here: https://dictionaryofsydney.org/entry/assassination_attempt_on_prince_alfred_1868 Nicole Cama is a professional historian, writer and curator, and the Executive Officer of the History Council of NSW.  She appears on 2SER on behalf of the Dictionary of Sydney in a voluntary capacity. Listen to the podcast with Nicole & Nic here, and tune in to 2SER Breakfast with Nic Healey on 107.3 every Wednesday morning at 8:15-8:20am to hear more from the Dictionary of Sydney. The Dictionary of Sydney has no ongoing operational funding and needs your help. Make a tax-deductible donation to the Dictionary of Sydney today!

Louisa Lawson, aged 50 c1898 courtesy Dixson Library, State Library of NSW (DL PX 158, 24)

March 8 is International Women's Day and today Lisa and Nic looked at three very different women who have shaped Sydney's history, culture and society.

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The Dictionary's content includes hundreds of biographies of people who have been influential in shaping Sydney in different ways, and the Dictionary's capacity for showing the many and varied connections between these people is one of its many strengths. Today we're talking about three women with a less structured connection. One was a suffragette, one notorious, and one a cultural pioneer, but they all share the same first name. Louisa Lawson (1848-1920) will probably be familiar to many readers. Publicly acclaimed as 'the mother of womanhood suffrage in New South Wales' when women gained the vote in NSW in 1902, Louisa Lawson was a gifted writer, a newspaper proprietor and an advocate for women's rights. Often spoken of now only in relation to her poet son Henry, she was an inspiring woman to be reckoned with in her own right. The Dawn, which she founded in 1888, was an intelligent feminist platform for women to discuss politics and issues that affected their lives. Wholly staffed by women, unions unsuccessfully tried to shut the journal down when she employed women as compositors. The Dawn had subscribers from all over the world and appeared every month for 17 years, making it the longest-running women's paper, indeed, one of the longest-running papers, of the period. You can read Susan Magarey's entry on Louisa Lawson's life on the Dictionary here:  https://dictionaryofsydney.org/entry/lawson_louisa and check out her other connections on the Dictionary here: https://dictionaryofsydney.org/person/lawson_louisa

Louisa Collins, Darlinghurst Gaol Photographic Description Book, 1888, courtesy State Records New South Wales (NRS 2138, 3-6074 p.84, Reel 5103)

Louisa Collins (1849-1889) was slightly more notorious in Sydney's history as both the first woman to be hanged at Darlinghurst Gaol and the last woman to be hanged in New South Wales. In a case that became famous as 'The Botany Murder', Collins was charged with poisoning her two husbands, and after four trials, was found guilty and hanged at Darlinghurst Gaol on 8 January 1889. That Collins was hanged at all was a matter of great debate at the time (to the point where the regular executioner refused to take part in hanging a woman), and one which was tied to the growing women's rights movement. As Dr Rachel Franks has put it, the proponents for her execution believed that 'If women, the argument ran, wanted equal rights – to vote, to be paid the same as men for work of equal value – then, such equality had to be universal: women, too, would hang for murder' (1). Two recent books Black Widow by Carol Baxter and Last Woman Hanged by Caroline Overington have also examined the case. Our third Louise was an architect, dancer, teacher, choreographer and impresario who was a pioneer of both classical ballet and Indian dance in Sydney, with, incidentally the perfect name for a dancer, Louise Lightfoot (1902-1979). In early twentieth-century Australia, only visiting foreign companies performed full ballets, and Indian dance was virtually unknown and unseen. Lightfoot played a major role in changing that. In November 1931, Louise and her partner Misha staged the first full performance of Coppelia danced and produced by Australians, at Sydney's Savoy Theatre. They called their amateur group of students the First Australian Ballet. Dance critic Valerie Lawson has called it '…the starting block of professional ballet in Australia' and 'an important building block for the professional companies to follow'. Her interest in Indian dance was sparked during a visit there in 1937, and she spent

Louise Lightfoot, courtesy of Mary Lightfoot

the rest of her life promoting Indian dance and culture, bringing the first Indian dancer to perform in Australia in 1947 and introducing forms of Indian dance to cities and country towns in Australia, then to New Zealand, England, Fiji, Japan, Canada and the USA. Read more about Louise Lightfoot on the Dictionary in Mary Lightfoot's entry here: http://dictionaryofsydney.org/entry/lightfoot_louise    (1) Rachel Franks, 'A woman’s place: constructing women within true crime narratives', TEXT Special Issue No 34 Writing and Illustrating Interdisciplinary Research, April 2016 Dr Lisa Murray is the Historian of the City of Sydney and the former chair of the Dictionary of Sydney Trust. She is the author of several books, including Sydney Cemeteries: a field guide. She appears on 2SER on behalf of the Dictionary of Sydney in a voluntary capacity. Listen to the podcast with Lisa & Nic here, and tune in to 2SER Breakfast with Nic Healey on 107.3 every Wednesday morning at 8:15-8:20 am to hear more from the Dictionary of Sydney. With no ongoing operational funding, the Dictionary of Sydney needs your help. Make a donation to the Dictionary of Sydney and claim a tax deduction!

It takes balls to be a fairy, Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras 1983, photograph by William Yang, courtesy National Library of Australia (nla.pic-vn3097593)

This year is the 40th anniversary of the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras and it has survived, and expanded, thanks to the determination of the city’s LGBTQI community.

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The first Mardi Gras parade in Sydney was held on 24 June 1978, part of a worldwide International Gay Solidarity day to commemorate the Stonewall riots in New York that had happened in 1969. After a day of festivities, about 1000 people gathered at Taylor Square at 9.30 pm to make their way down Oxford Street to Hyde Park. As the parade arrived at Whitlam Square, the police, who had given permission for the parade to take place, intervened, confiscating the lead truck and telling the crowd to disperse. The now angry crowd marched up William Street to Darlinghurst where they clashed with police and ‘a two-hour spree of screaming, bashing and arrests‘ followed, and 53 people were arrested amid many reports of police brutality. It wasn't until 2016 that a formal apology was made by the New South Wales police for the events of 1978, and this year for the first time, New South Wales Police have raised the rainbow flag, in honour of the parade's 40th anniversary and a symbol of solidarity with the LGBTQI community, outside the Sydney Police Centre. The Sydney Mardi Gras is now one of the largest festivals of its kind in the world, and an important and much-loved part of this city’s history and culture. The City of Sydney history team has been working with Sydney’s Pride History Group to update the Oxford Street walking tour on their fantastic Culture Walks app, and it now focuses entirely on the area’s LGBTQI history. Called Parade, it's available for download for mobile devices via the app here The 21 stops on the tour also contains excerpts from oral histories compiled by the Pride group and articles in the Dictionary of Sydney. Take the tour and listen to stories about bars like Patch's and Ruby Reds, both sanctuaries for gay and lesbian people. Or the Gay and Lesbian Holocaust Memorial in Green Park, which commemorates the homosexual men and women who were tortured, murdered and persecuted in Nazi Germany. You can do the tour remotely too, just by following along with the stops. There is also a great exhibition on at Surry Hills’ TAP Art Gallery, until Sunday 4 March. Serving in Silence explores LGBTQI service in the Australian Defence Force since World War II. One story that struck me was Yvonne Sillett’s, who joined the Women’s Royal Australian Army Corps in 1979 and rose up in the ranks with a top security clearance, only to be dismissed after her sexuality was exposed and after 10 years of service. Stories like these are not uncommon, and aren't long ago. It's important to hear these stories and to be aware of the contemporary relevance and how much still needs to change. Check out the full Mardi Gras festival program of activities here and join in the celebrations.

The City of Sydney History team and Pride History Group have collaborated on this great free walking tour.

Happy Mardi Gras! Links: Read more on the Dictionary of Sydney, starting with historian and 78er Garry Wotherspoon's entry on Mardi Gras and follow the links and subjects to more: https://dictionaryofsydney.org/entry/gay_and_lesbian_mardi_gras Find the Parade Walking Tour on the City of Sydney's Culture App: https://www.sydneyculturewalksapp.com/ Explore the Pride History Group's resources, especially the 100 Voices project: http://www.camp.org.au/ Visit TAP Art Gallery to see Serving in Silence: http://www.tapgallery.org.au/ The State Library of NSW has digitised recordings made by Garry Wotherspoon of his interviews with gay men and women between 1980-1988, and are available to listen to (and transcribe) via their Amplify project here. Nicole Cama is a professional historian, writer and curator, and the Executive Officer of the History Council of NSW.  She appears on 2SER on behalf of the Dictionary of Sydney in a voluntary capacity. Listen to the podcast with Nicole & Nic here, and tune in to 2SER Breakfast with Nic Healey on 107.3 every Wednesday morning at 8:15-8:20am to hear more from the Dictionary of Sydney. The Dictionary of Sydney has no ongoing operational funding and needs your help. Make a tax-deductible donation to the Dictionary of Sydney today!

A few weeks ago I talked about the Registry of Flashmen which was compiled by William Miles, a police commissioner who used the latest surveillance techniques of the 1840s to understand the local criminal class. Fast forward 80 years to the 1920s, and New South Wales police were still continuing to innovate in their recording and documentation of the local underworld.  

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Photography was an established technology by the 1920s, but the way the New South Wales police framed their subjects was a new development compared to the traditional mugshots used by police departments around the world. Using photography to its full advantage, a natural form of portraiture was used to photograph identifying suspects, capturing the clothes, postures and attitudes of the men and women who were part of Sydney's underworld. These photographs make compelling viewing. These photographs became known as 'The Specials' because of their innovative framing. They form part of the New South Wales Police Forensic Photography Archive held in the collection of the Justice and Police Museum, part of Sydney's Living Museums, and are an amazing resource for people looking not only at the history of crime, but of fashion, physical appearance and every day life in Sydney. Most of the photographs were taken in Sydney's Central Police Station, in the CBD to the north of the central court complex, where the police photographer made the most of the natural light in the station courtyard to capture sharp images on the glass negatives. Because the photos aren't obviously taken in a police station or cells, meaning the naturalistic images could be used to show witnesses without necessarily biasing the viewer. Photographs were full length, showing the clothing and posture of the men and women. Suspects clutch handkerchiefs, handbags, smoke cigarettes and carry on conversations. Some peer  out from beneath hat brims. The personality of the subject can menace through the ages. Associates and gangs were frequently photographed as a group. Portrait photographs from the chest up, with caps and hats removed, were also taken to accompany the full length images. A bentwood chair was often placed in the shot to give an idea of height rather than a yardstick of height or measure.

Sydney Collins and Reuben Holmes, circa 1920, Suspected of shooting with intent (Collins); suspect, offence unknown (Holmes) Special Photograph number 206. New South Wales Police Forensic Photography Archive, Sydney Living Museums

Basic details about the subjects of the photographs are inscribed on the negatives, and the team at Sydney Living Museums have been researching these people to tell their stories. Because the photographs are of suspects, the people in them weren't always charged and this can make finding more information about them difficult. If they were charged, or involved in other crimes or misdemeanours, there can be a rich archive across various collections to drawn on and the stories they tell are fascinating. You can see 130 candid mugshots in the current exhibition at the Museum of Sydney Underworld: Mugshots from the roaring twenties. The exhibition is open 7 days a week and runs until 12 August at the Museum of Sydney on the corner of Phillip and Bridge Streets (not the Justice and Police Museum closer to the Quay). We also highly recommend spending time on the fantastic exhibition website here. With blog posts about individuals, information about how to read the information on the photographs and more, it provides an indepth look at this remarkable collection. There are some great events planned around the exhibition as well, including floor talks, a special talk with the Museum's Digital Assets curator Holly Schulte and academic and fine art photographer Enrico Scotece who will give an introduction to the history of portrait photography and recreate the unique Specials portraits using a vintage Eastman camera, and walking tours looking at crime around the Rocks and waterfront. Go to the Sydney Living Museum's website here for more details and bookings. Dr Rachel Franks reviewed the exhibition for the Dictionary in December, and you can read her review here. Dr Lisa Murray is the Historian of the City of Sydney and the former chair of the Dictionary of Sydney Trust. She is the author of several books, including Sydney Cemeteries: a field guide. She appears on 2SER on behalf of the Dictionary of Sydney in a voluntary capacity. Listen to the podcast with Lisa & Nic here, and tune in to 2SER Breakfast with Nic Healey on 107.3 every Wednesday morning at 8:15-8:20 am to hear more from the Dictionary of Sydney. With no ongoing operational funding, the Dictionary of Sydney needs your help. Make a donation to the Dictionary of Sydney and claim a tax deduction!

Front page of The Sun, 7 February 1938

Yesterday it was 80 years since the Black Sunday surf rescue at Bondi Beach, which was commemorated on the weekend with a re-enactment featuring 150 lifesavers, complete with period costume and equipment. You can listen to Nic and Nicole here:  Listen now  Bondi Beach has always been a popular destination for Sydneysiders and tourists alike, and like many places in this city it is one with a rich history. Its name comes from the Aboriginal word, 'Boondi', meaning 'water tumbling over rocks' or noise of ‘water breaking over rocks’. The Aboriginal rock carvings at Bondi depicting fish and sharks are historic features of the beach, with the oldest dating to around 2,000 years old. The Bondi Pavilion is another historic site. It was built in 1928, designed to accommodate 12,000 people and was the largest surf pavilion built in Sydney. The pavilion has been the home of cabarets, parties, plays, festivals and many other cultural events. On the afternoon of Sunday 6 February 1938, there were tens of thousands of people at the much loved beach. The late afternoon shift for the life savers had just started, and around 40 other life savers from the Bondi and North Bondi Life Saving Clubs were preparing to enter the water as part of a regular club race, when three huge waves hit the beach in quick succession and swept between 250-300 people out to sea. One witness said ‘Those three great waves which caused the backwash swept in and out in a matter of only five or six seconds’.1 Approximately 200 swimmers needed to be rescued by the 60 or so lifesavers who went into the boiling water, attached by belt to surf reel lines, or using surf skis and surfoplanes. In the end, five people drowned, 35 people were resuscitated, and many more required medical attention. The victims were Bernard Byrne (34), Leslie Potter (18), Ronald McGregor (21), Michael Kennedy/Taylor (47) and Carl ‘Sweety’ Saur, a 53 year old German man who died while saving a girl. According to ABC News this weekend, there is only one survivor of Black Sunday still alive today. Norma Allerding, now aged 96, was in the water with her father, and was quoted over the weekend as saying: ‘It is a day I will never forget. All of a sudden this huge wave came and we were tossed around...It was horrific, it was pandemonium everywhere.’2

Sydney Mail, 9 February 1938, p18

A French Canadian wrestler who was at the beach that day said ""I've seen rescues and drowings in every part of the world, but never anything as magnificent as the job done by those lifesaving boys yesterday".   A lot has changed since 1938, but the beach, and surf life saving, one of the largest volunteer movements in the world, remain important parts of our culture.   Notes: 1 Heroism in the Surf, The Sun, 7 February 1938, p1 HEROISM IN THE SURF (1938, February 7). The Sun (Sydney, NSW : 1910 - 1954), p. 1 (LATE FINAL EXTRA). Retrieved February 6, 2018, from 2 'Bondi Beach lifesavers commemorate 80th anniversary of Black Sunday drownings with re-enactment', David Spicer, ABC News, 5 February 2018  Bondi Surf Bathers Life Saving Club website North Bondi Surf Life Saving Club website Surf Life Saving New South Wales website Nicole Cama is a professional historian, writer and curator, and the Executive Officer of the History Council of NSW.  She appears on 2SER on behalf of the Dictionary of Sydney in a voluntary capacity. Listen to the podcast with Nicole & Nic here, and tune in to 2SER Breakfast with Nic Healey on 107.3 every Wednesday morning at 8:15-8:20am to hear more from the Dictionary of Sydney. The Dictionary of Sydney has no ongoing operational funding and needs your help. Make a tax-deductible donation to the Dictionary of Sydney today!