The Australian Women's Weekly, September 7 1946, p48 via Trove

Sydney Living Museums has an interesting exhibition at the Museum of Sydney, The Moderns: European Designers in Sydney. This exhibition seems to come at a time where this city’s built environment and architectural heritage are very much in the spotlight. Let’s take a look in the Dictionary of Sydney at one of these designers, Eva Buhrich.

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From the 1930s to the 1960s, a number of architects and designers travelled to Sydney from Europe, bringing their modernist sensibilities with them. Harry Seidler, is probably one of Australia's most well known architects, being the creative genius behind buildings like the MLC Centre, Australia Square, Grosvenor Place, Rose Seidler House and many more. However, the Dictionary features other fascinating modernist figures who may not be as familiar to us, including Eva Buhrich. Eva Buhrich was born Eva Bernard in Nuremberg, Germany in 1915, the daughter of Jewish parents who supported her training and career as an architect. She met Hugh Buhrich, also an architect, at a university in Munich and the couple lived in Berlin before moving to Switzerland and then England in the late 1930s. To escape the growing threat of war, the couple then moved to Australia. In Sydney, Eva worked as a draftsperson and as a freelance designer in partnership with Hugh in the 1940s. According to Hugh, Eva gave up architectural design because of the poor wages she received compared to her male counterparts. By the 1950s Eva was working as a writer and architectural commentator, as well as a graphic designer and editor. She was a champion of modernist design, publishing in The Sydney Morning Herald, The Australian Women’s Weekly, House and Garden and more. Eva died in March 1976, probably the first woman to write about architecture and design under her own name for a major Australian newspaper. Her only book, a guide to creating Patios and Outdoor Living Areas, an area of design that fascinated her, was published in 1973. The Buhrichs’ home in Castlecrag was designed and built by Hugh Buhrich for their family between 1968-72, and is considered to be one of the most iconic and influential in Sydney modernist design. You can explore the house as it was in 2004 on the Sydney Living Museums' website here. Read architectural historian Bronwyn Hanna's entry on Eva Buhrich on the Dictionary of Sydney here. The exhibition The Moderns: European Designers in Sydney is on at the Museum of Sydney until 26 November as part of Sydney Living Museums' program of Modernist related events, A Modernist Season. For more details, head to their website here.

Advice from Eva Buhrich on making the most of the space in your air raid shelter, from The Home: an Australian quarterly, Vol. 21 No. 9 (2 September 1940) p 54 - 55 via Trove

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 needs your help. Make a tax-deductible donation to the Dictionary of Sydney today!

Arthur Stace writing his message, Eternity in Sydney Courtesy National Library of Australia (nla.pic-vn3107050)

The 30 July 2017 marks 50 years since the death of a mysterious identity who inscribed the word ‘Eternity’ on Sydney’s pavements for 34 years. The Dictionary of Sydney chronicles the stories of many of this city’s interesting citizens, but perhaps none are more enigmatic than Arthur Stace or, as he became known, Mr Eternity. 

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Arthur Stace was born in Redfern in 1885. His parents were alcoholics and he soon became a ward of the state, also acquiring a drinking habit by the time he entered the workforce aged 14. He worked as a ‘cockatoo’ or scout for brothels and illegal establishments. He served in the First World War in France and was discharged as medically unfit in 1918. Back in Sydney, Stace started drinking again but stopped after he attended church at St Barnabas, Broadway in 1930. He worked as a janitor at the Burton Street Baptist Tabernacle in Darlinghurst and in 1932 heard a sermon by the Reverend John G Ridley, during which the word ‘eternity’ was repeated. After this sermon Stace claimed that though he could hardly have spelt his own name, let alone the word eternity, ‘it came out smoothly in beautiful copperplate script’.

The Sun-Herald, 1 November 1953 , p3

For the next 34 years, Stace wrote the word on Sydney’s pavements an estimated more than half a million times before he died of a stroke on 30 July 1967. His identity was only been discovered in 1956. Since his death, Mr Eternity has been remembered in poetry, film and artworks. Eternity was emblazoned across the Sydney Harbour Bridge at New Year’s Eve 1999 and, in 2013, the Eternity Playhouse opened in the restored Burton Street Baptist Tabernacle where Stace first heard that sermon. The poet and novelist, Dorothy Porter, said Sydney’s obsession with Mr Eternity was a reflection of the city’s impermanence: ‘Sydney has a dreadful history of wiping out itself – in the 1960s especially, when everything got razed, covered over with concrete...perhaps [Stace] appeals to us as a symbol of that past, that other lost Sydney and its history.’ Go to the Dictionary  of Sydney to read Shirley Fitzgerald's entry on Arthur Stace and follow the connections to see where else Arthur Stace is mentioned on the Dictionary  https://dictionaryofsydney.org/person/stace_arthur

Harbour bridge with 'Eternity' illuminated sign 31 December 1999 Courtesy City of Sydney Archives (NSCA CRS 1004/2)

  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 needs your help. Make a tax-deductible donation to the Dictionary of Sydney today!  

Saturday's Demonstration in the Domain, Sydney Mail 15 August 1917, p22

This year marks the centenary of one of Australia’s largest industrial conflicts and a special exhibition commemorating the anniversary has just opened at Carriageworks. The Great Strike of 1917 is regarded as one of Australia’s largest industrial conflicts. Although it officially lasted just over six weeks, its consequences lingered for decades.  Co-curator Laila Ellmoos, historian at the City of Sydney and Dictionary of Sydney author, spoke to Nic on 2SER Breakfast this morning about the strike.

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The Great Strike erupted on the NSW railways and tramways in response to the introduction of a new time card system that monitored worker productivity. This was ‘a new system of recording work times and output’ that was intended to improve worker efficiency. Historian Lucy Taksa noted that the introduction of the card system was seen by the workers as a ‘direct attack on collective work practices and trade union principles’ The strike began on 2 August when around 5,790 employees, the majority from the Eveleigh Railway Workshops and the nearby Randwick Tramsheds, walked off the job. The Eveleigh Railway Workshops (the present-day Carriageworks and Australian Technology Park) were at the heart of political and industrial activism during the 20th century as workers came together to improve conditions, wages and work practices. The strike soon spread to other industries and towns throughout NSW and Australia through the imposition of ‘black bans’ and sympathy actions, leading to food shortages, limited public transport and power blackouts. Overall an estimated 77,350 workers in NSW ‘went out’.

‘In Commemoration of 1917’ medal, 1918
This silver Lily-White medal was designed by Newtown jeweller William Trantum in 1918. The Amalgamated Society of Engineers commissioned and issued the medal to its members who remained out on strike.
Courtesy Trades Hall Association, photographed by Greg Piper

A significant feature of the strike was the social protest that accompanied it. There were regular large-scale street processions starting at Eddy Avenue and weekly gatherings in The Domain that attracted upwards of 100,000 men, women and children. Women were on the frontline of social protest because they were workers too, and also because the economic hardship caused by male workers going on strike affected whole family units. On the other side of the political divide, middle-class businessmen, women, farmers, university students and teenage schoolboys – referred to as either ‘volunteer labour’ or ‘scabs’ depending on allegiances – attempted to break the strike by doing the jobs of the strikers. The strikebreakers were housed in camps at the Sydney Cricket Ground (nicknamed the ‘Scabs Collecting Ground’ by the strikers), Taronga Zoo and Dawes Point. Those who opposed the strike called the strikebreakers 'volunteers' and 'loyalists'. Thousands of women also volunteered their services to help break the strike.

The Loyal Workers badge was issued to strikebreakers by the NSW Government in the aftermath of the strike. Wearers risked verbal or physical abuse. As a consequence the badges were unpopular, and were either discarded or hidden by their owners.
Courtesy Trades Hall Association, Sydney, photographed by Greg Piper

This was an era of unprecedented social and political upheaval, exacerbated by World War 1 and the associated conscription debates, emerging technologies and changing social values. The Great Strike of 1917 officially ended when the Strike Defence Committee capitulated to the Railway Commissioners’ demands in mid-September 1917. Workers in maritime and other industries remained on strike however; it wasn’t until early October that industrial action and protest eventually wound up. Ultimately the strike failed and the timecard system was implemented. In its dying days and immediately afterwards, destitute women and children relied on relief doled out by the Women’s Relief Fund and a fund set up by the Lord Mayor. Many railway and tramway employees never got their jobs back. Those who were rehired found their jobs had been downgraded. The strike highlighted the split in the labour movement between ‘rank and file’ trade union members and officials. More than 20 unions were deregistered. In the years that followed, many strikers felt they had been victimised, which in turn created working lives riven with conflict. The strike and its aftermath politicised a core group, including train driver Ben Chifley, who went on to become prime minister 1945-49. Labor stalwarts and former Eveleigh employees Joe Cahill and Eddie Ward both entered politics after their involvement in the strike. Cahill was elected NSW Premier in 1952, while Ward was a member of the House of Representatives for East Sydney 1932-60. The nationwide strike lasted just six weeks, but its consequences endured for those involved, galvanising community networks, shaping political consciousness, and creating a highly politicised workforce from which a generation of politicians would later emerge. Despite these legacies, this event has not been widely remembered. Its failure was considered by many to be a defeat for the labour movement, and the action was subsequently overshadowed by the memory of war and the conscription debates. One hundred years on, the anniversary of the Great Strike of 1917 provides an opportunity to reassess this watershed moment in Australia’s history and to consider how its legacy resonates today.

Banner for the The New South Wales Locomotive Engine Drivers, Firemen and Cleaners Association which was used in the 1917 Great Strike and is on display in the exhibition. Courtesy Trades Hall Association, Sydney

The free exhibition 1917: The Great Strike runs from 15 July-27 August at Carriageworks. There will also be a special Community Day on 5 August, with performances of brass bands and choirs, tours,  workshops with the artists, including a signwriting demonstration and a Panel Discussion: The Great Strike and its legacies, with Laila Ellmoos, historian; Frances Flanagan, United Voice research director; Tom Nicholson, artist; moderated by Anna Clark, historian, co-hosted by City of Sydney and UTS Australian Centre for Public History. Find out more about the Community Day here. The Great Strike is presented by Carriageworks and City of Sydney, in partnership with the National Film and Sound Archive of Australia (NFSA). Other reading: City of Sydney blog: 100 years ago, 100,000 people marched to The Domain every week for 6 weeks. Find out why. City of Sydney media: Remembering the Strike that Stopped a Nation City of Sydney- Creative City: The 1917 Great Strike through the eyes of five artists State Library of NSW Magazine Winter 2017: In their element - a schoolboy's photo album holds a glimpse of the Great Strike National Film and Sound Archive: The Great Strike Laila Ellmoos is an historian with the City of Sydney and a Dictionary of Sydney author. She is the author of three books including Our Island Home: a history of Peat Island. She appears on 2SER on behalf of the Dictionary of Sydney in a voluntary capacity. Listen to the podcast with Laila & 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.    

The Dictionary of Sydney needs your help. Make a donation to the Dictionary of Sydney and claim a tax deduction!

Promissory note for one pound issued by Garnam Blaxcell, 29 January 1814 Courtesy: Sir William Dixson Numismatic Collection, State Library of NSW (a6416001 / SAFE/DN/P 262)

 

Catherine Jinks, Charlatan The Dishonest Life and Dishonoured Loves of Thomas Guthrie Carr, Stage Mesmerist

Vintage Books, Penguin Random House Australia, North Sydney, 2017, pp 1-256 (plus notes), ISBN: 978 0 14378 554 5

Between 1865 and 1886 Thomas Guthrie Carr was rarely out of the celebrity spotlight. Known throughout the Australian and New Zealand colonies, Carr was a one-man travelling circus of many different, and eclectic ‘talents’; medical quack, mesmerist, phrenologist, electro-biologist, amputater, pamphleteer, public speaker and entertainer. His seven-foot plus frame inspired awe in some and many people avidly followed his lecture circuits and showered him with lavish praise and money. He often performed at large theatres and filled the lecture halls of mechanics' institutes and schools of arts in towns and cities across the colonies. Yet celebrities then, as they do today, strongly divided public opinion into devoted supporters and ruthless detractors. Carr had many of these too. Some contemporaries believed that mesmerism was nothing but a hoax, a false sham, together with hypnotism, pain-free surgery, animal magnetism and astrology which, were related ideas of whack-quackery then in vogue.  As such they regarded Carr as a complete shyster, a peddler of humbuggery and balderdash, an imposter, a charlatan and a criminal fraudster. Carr’s personal temperament did not do much to lessen this damning view of him. He could be charming and brilliantly witty, but he was also at times violent, litigious, cunning, offensively rude and ruthlessly cutting – all personal traits that perhaps well fitted his rather dubious line of work. Scandals, bankruptcies, defamation and libel cases followed him throughout his turbulent career. If Carr had lived fifty years earlier, when ‘pistols at dawn’ often settled disputes between gentlemen, he would have certainly been the sort of rogue cad to find himself embroiled in such affairs of honour. But it was an affair of honour involving an allegation of mesmerising one Eliza Grey and then committing a rape upon her which forms the pivotal focus of Catherine Jinks’ new book Charlatan. This alleged crime and the subsequent court case which ensued, turns a remarkable and at times ‘un-make-up-able’ colonial figure and his extraordinary life and career into a thrilling piece of crime, intrigue and suspense. The author keeps the mystery tightly wrapped up until near to the end. It is a very effective hook and whilst the story ebbs and flows with Carr’s travels across colonies and different decades, the central premise is always there in the background. It is highly effective because the reader is simply enthralled to get to the bottom of the mystery. And so pages keep getting turned. Readers are unlikely to warm to Thomas Guthrie Carr. However the story is just so brilliantly bonkers and so curious as to be utterly compelling. Jinks’ has a lovely light style of writing and throughout there is a dry, subtle humour. And yet this is also a fascinating piece of social and cultural history. It has been thoroughly researched and many leading figures of the day find their way into the colourful cast of characters. Sir William Manning, the Duke of Edinburgh and the mad Dentist of Wynyard appear, together with a supporting motley crew of dodgy mesmerists, dubious actors, duplicitous publicists and hired tricksters. The biographical story of Thomas Guthrie Carr is certainly a remarkable one. This book provides a fascinating insight into one man’s extraordinary life but also a vividly painted snapshot into life as it was lived in colonial Australia. Quite simply it is a fabulous book indeed. It will appeal to everyone simply keen to read a great ‘truth is stranger than fiction’ story. Also recommended for readers interested in Australian history, curious eccentrics of the past and the politics and theatre of celebrity and public opinion in the late nineteenth century. Dr Catie Gilchrist July 2017   Available from all good booksellers! Click here to read an extract on the Penguin Books website.

House removal, Brown St & Missenden Rd, Camperdown, 10 April 1916 Courtesy City of Sydney Archives (NSCA CRS 51/659)

Moving the Dictionary

Over the last year we've been working on moving the Dictionary's content on to a new platform hosted by the State Library of New South Wales. Over the next few days you may notice some changes to the site as we flip the switch and start rolling out these modifications. We've had teams of volunteers testing and checking the data during this process but if you do notice anything decidedly odd which we've missed, like strange characters in the text or missing links, please let us know. We have moved the Dictionary from an open source database platform called Heurist, which was developed by the former Arts eResearch unit at the University of Sydney, to Drupal 8, an open source content management system. While you will notice some changes to the Dictionary on its new platform, as much as possible has been kept the same given the available resources and the disparity between the two platforms. This has required a high degree of customisation and a lot of seriously impressive work from the incredible team at the Library in order to replicate as much of the Dictionary's functionality as possible.

Changes

We have also been able to include some improvements to the site, like our new searchable and sortable Browse menus, which received several thumbs-ups from our volunteer testers. You'll be able to search within each of these menus by an item's title, and refine the search by type as well. You'll even be able to sort entries in the Dictionary by publication date! These title searches are in addition to the Dictionary's general search across the site, which is always available via the Search window in the right hand column. The general search function does work slightly differently, so if you've regularly done a particular search on the Dictionary you may notice the results are not always in quite the same order as they were. Credits and citations for images and multimedia material will now appear now when you scroll over a thumbnail so you'll be able to see their source details immediately rather than having to click through to the full record. The options to share a page in the Dictionary via social media or email have been modernised and enlarged and moved to the top of the page, so make the most of that! We can now create 'See Also' connections between pages on the Dictionary, allowing us to do things like link historical entities with contemporary Dictionary contributors. Keep an eye out for those in the right hand column where an item's 'Connections' sit. We have had to lose some things for now like our overlaid maps sadly, but hope that in the future we may be able to look at these again if funding allows, and maybe even incorporate other additions and improvements. The Dictionary URLs will remain the same or will be redirected permanently.

Thank you

Moving the Dictionary onto this platform at the State Library ensures that its content will be archived and remain accessible, even after there is no longer funding to keep adding to the site, and we're very grateful to the Library for making this possible. This transition has been funded by a special grant from the City of Sydney Council, the Dictionary's founding partner between 2006‐2016, and we'd like to thank them again for their long term support of the Dictionary of Sydney.              

Feast Day at Liverpool Asylum 24 July 1886, Illustrated Sydney News, 14 August 1886, p16

July marks the start of the new financial year, and for many reliant upon the government for support, this often means a change in pensions and welfare payments. There has been a lot of focus by the federal government on welfare recipients of late, so I thought it might be timely to look at the history of one of the key tenets of the welfare state: the aged pension.  

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Contrary to what you might think, the aged pension has not always been around. It was a welfare payment that was hard fought for by those who saw and knew the predicament of the impoverished elderly in Sydney. For the poor, the homeless, the orphaned, the impaired and disabled, Sydney could be an unforgiving place to live in the 19th century. Professor Stephen Garton has written an illuminating essay for the Dictionary on Health and Welfare that outlines the limited options available for those in need. Welfare was provided primarily by private philanthropists. The earliest and largest secular organisation established for the care of Sydney's destitute was the Benevolent Society. Other religious groups and churches also provided relief. Outdoor and indoor relief was provided to those who through assessment and interviews were deemed to be worthy and deserving of assistance. Help came in the form of food, clothing (outdoor relief) or institutional care (indoor relief). Sometimes outdoor relief was occasional rather than regular. From the mid-nineteenth century, each Christmas, the Lord Mayors of Sydney would hold a special dinner for the city's poor. This welfare support offered by charities was stigmatised for its moralistic stance and was often avoided by the poor. As Stephen Garton explains, "Workers and their families resisted the implication that they were morally at fault if the vicissitudes of life left them impoverished and dependent. They resented the fact that charity was a gift bestowed at the whim of the better off not an entitlement. Thus many working families sought to make their own provision for hard times. A weekly subscription to a Friendly Society, to cover unexpected medical and funeral expenses, was a common resort. By the 1880s there were 35,000 friendly society members in New South Wales. "

Out-door relief 1885, from 'A walk in Sydney streets on the shady side', by Nelson P. Whitelocke. Sydney: Nelson P. Whitelocke, 1885. Page: plate 4 Courtesy National Gallery of Australia (Accession No: NGA 93.2024.6)

By the late 19th century, some doctors and philanthropists could see that the conditions of the asylums were detrimental rather than helpful to the elderly. The Benevolent Society began experimenting with the idea of paying old people a small amount of money so that they could stay in their homes, rather than move to the asylum, and so the idea of an aged pension began to evolve. Key to the movement was a doctor and philanthropist, Arthur Renwick. Arthur Renwick is the hero in our story. He had grown up in working class Redfern and knew the predicament of many of the working poor in the city. . and was involved for many years with the Benevolent Society.  Renwick joined forces with local Anglican minister the Reverend F B Boyce to form the Old Age Pensions League in the mid-1890s to lobby for a government paid pension for the respectable elderly poor, rather than resorting to incarceration. In 1901 the New South Wales Parliament introduced an old age pensions scheme. The federal government followed suit in 1908. Pensions represented a break with the charity principles: more a right than a gift. There were means and assets tests to limit the liability of governments but pensions involved little interrogation, no demeaning visits or humiliating incarceration. Pensions heralded the beginnings of the twentieth century welfare state.

Sir Arthur Renwick 1909 by John Hubert Newman Courtesy Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales (GPO1 11697)

The aged pension is something we should never take for granted, nor be complacent about. History shows that life in Sydney was very different without it. For a comparable experience in London, take a look at the reality tv show Queen Victoria's Slum on SBS. And as well as looking at the Dictionary pages listed below, get your hands on the book by historian Tanya Evans titled Fractured Families to learn more about the experiences of Sydney's urban poor in the 19th century. Click on the links below to be taken to these Dictionary of Sydney pages: Arthur Renwick Benevolent Society of New South Wales Health and Welfare by Stephen Garton Charity and Philanthropy by Anne O'Brien Benevolent Society of New South Wales 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. The Dictionary of Sydney needs your help. Make a donation to the Dictionary of Sydney and claim a tax deduction!

Promissory note for one pound issued by Garnam Blaxcell, 29 January 1814 Courtesy: Sir William Dixson Numismatic Collection, State Library of NSW (a6416001 / SAFE/DN/P 262)

 

Pip Smith, Half Wild

Allen & Unwin, 2017, ISBN: 9781760294649, pp1-390

During the winter of 1920, Sydney was gripped by the spectacularly scandalous story of Eugenia Falleni. Falleni had for many years pretended to be a man called Harry Crawford. Harry was small but strong and worked in typically male jobs. He knew how to ‘act like a bloke’ and could smoke and spit and drink as hard as his work mates. He had also married two women, one of whom had mysteriously disappeared in 1917. So when the ‘man-woman’ was later accused of having murdered his/her first ‘wife’ Annie Birkett, the city (and indeed the story reverberated around the country) was plunged into a gripping crime of murder and passion. But it was also much more than this too; a thrilling tale of a life on the run, illegitimacy, illegal marriage, dysfunctional motherhood, secret strap-on dildos and two fat fingers up to the stratified, stuffy conventions of hetero-normative gender roles. Pip Smith’s first novel Half Wild recounts and recreates this extraordinary story, successfully blending an exhilarating mixture of historical fact with her own soaring imagination. The result is an unputdownable page turning triumph of a book. I read it over two long sessions quite simply because I could not wait to find out what unfolded next. And yet, as an historian, I already knew the story of Eugenia Falleni. With a colourful cast of over thirty characters the novel is split into four uneven parts. Part one re-imagines Eugenia’s early life growing up in an Italian family in Wellington, New Zealand. This part of the book is the least evidence based. And yet it is here where the author shows her true strengths because Falleni’s early life is also the most imaginative and vividly written part of the book.  A tomboy who refused to embrace the refined trappings of femininity and indeed schooling, young Eugenia could not be tamed. Even by seduction, rape, a forced marriage and the cruelties of nineteenth century institutionalisation. Eventually, dressed and disguised as a man – perhaps as a means of self-protection and probably to earn a better wage - she escaped the stifling nature of migrant Catholic Italian life in New Zealand and sailed to Sydney. Part two is told from Harry’s point of view and is a short account of Crawford’s life up to 1920 and the time of his arrest. It is based on Crawford’s initial statement to the Sydney police. Part three comprises the main body of the book and it is here where we meet a motley crew of Sydney characters, neighbours, friends, and children. It is beautifully set against the backdrop of early twentieth century Sydney and the years of social volatility both during and immediately after the Great War. The ‘disappearance’ of Crawford’s wife Annie in October 1917, the later discovery of her burnt body by the Lane Cove River and Harry’s subsequent life is told from many different viewpoints – neighbours, friends, policemen, Eugenia’s daughter Josephine, Annie’s son Harry Birkett and Crawford’s second wife Lizzie. In less capable hands such to-ing and fro-ing and the thick layering of characters might threaten to become messy and complicated. However Smith’s writing, crafted with care, simply makes the busy drama even more intense and beguilingly captivating. Eugenia’s daughter Josephine later played along with the charade of her ‘father’ Harry Crawford. Harry Birkett too seemed to know although the author leaves the reader on the knife-edge of speculatively guessing. To be sure, at the time, a few people knew about Harry’s real gender identity and some nosy neighbours suspected something was not quite right. Most however were completely in the dark and Smith skilfully uses the ‘who knew’ suspense to add a further mysterious layer of tension to the plot. The reader is actually left wondering if Harry’s second wife Lizzie in fact knew or not. Apparently the sex was utterly amazing (although it was always in the dark) and a few months into their marriage she announced that the couple were going to have a baby. Was she indeed utterly ignorant, woefully naïve and innocent or simply complicit in the duplicitous life they were living? In August 1920 Eugenia Falleni was tried for the murder of Annie Birkett. She pleaded not guilty however the jury found her guilty and she was sentenced to death. This was later reprieved to life in Long Bay Gaol. Smith uses the trial reports of the Sydney press to convincingly recreate some of the court scenes. She also skilfully writes the court proceedings from the perspective of the middle class women who faithfully attended the theatre of the courtroom every day during the trial.  This brilliantly captures the horror and yet fascination and utter titillation which this case generated in 1920s Sydney. Part four swiftly charts Falleni’s time at Long Bay, her eventual release as ‘Jean Ford’ and her untimely death in Sydney in 1938. Prison had changed her, softened her, and perhaps even tamed the ‘half wild’ one. I was left wondering if she was indeed guilty of murdering her first wife Annie Birkett. The author does not make her feelings definitively known yet to be honest at this distance, in time, it perhaps no longer matters. Ultimately Falleni’s story is one of a restless life spent in search of identity and belonging, but also one of hardship and yet survival. She had a fierce desire to break down the restraints of gender stereotypes and prohibitive sexual norms, and to instead find acceptance and equality and meaning.  And it is this, which makes the story of Eugenia Falleni such a universal and in so many ways relevant tale for today. Dr Catie Gilchrist July 2017 Available at all book sellers and online at Allen & Unwin here, where you can also read an excerpt from the book.

NAIDOC Week is in full swing, celebrating the history, culture and achievements of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples so we thought we'd take the opportunity to celebrate someone a very powerful woman in Sydney’s history - Barangaroo.     Listen now Barangaroo was a Cameragal woman, from the country around North Harbour and Manly. Professor Grace Karskens notes in her entry on Barangaroo in the Dictionary, that she was probably a part of a group of Cameragal women who met the ‘Berewalgal’ (people from a distant place) at Manly in February 1788. The British officers first met Barangaroo in 1790, and found her striking and intimidating. Barangaroo had survived the deadly smallpox epidemic of 1789 which had decimated the Eora population, and because of this was one of a reduced number of older women who had the knowledge of laws, teaching and women's rituals.

Aboriginal woman with her baby, in a canoe fishing with a line c1805 , from album 'Natives of New South Wales; drawn from life in Botany Bay' Courtesy Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW (a1267013 / PXB 513, f.12)

She had lost two children and a husband during the epidemic, and had remarried another well-known figure in Sydney’s history, Bennelong. Barangaroo was fiercely determined, she refused to wear clothing offered by the Berewalgal, and aggressively challenged Bennelong's relations with them, much to the surprise of the British. One officer, Watkin Tench, described her as a ‘scold’ and a ‘vixen’. Barangaroo's was an accomplished fisherwoman and main food provider for her people. Eora fisherwomen were highly skilled - they would balance their bark canoes (nowie) in sometimes rough conditions, simultaneously maneuvering their lines and hooks (burra) and diving to catch fish. Often, these women also had their children aboard and fires lit on clay pads for warmth and cooking, as they sang and rowed in synchrony. Eora men mostly used canoes to get from one part of the harbour to the next and would focus their hunting efforts onshore, yielding multi-pronged spears.

Fish hooks of New South Wales and a feather of the cassowary c1789 from from 'Journal of a voyage to New South Wales' 1790 by John White Courtesy Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW (a2089433 / MRB/ Q991/ 2A2)

Barangaroo died in 1791, shortly after giving birth to a baby girl. She was cremated with her fishing gear beside her, and Bennelong buried her ashes in the gardens of First Government House, in the area around where the Museum of Sydney now stands.   Read Grace Karskens' article Barangaroo and the Eora Fisherwomen on the Dictionary of Sydney here. Check the NAIDOC Calendar for Sydney celebrations and events 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 needs your help. Make a tax-deductible donation to the Dictionary of Sydney today!

Isaac Nathan, Australia's first composer c1820 Courtesy National Library of Australia (nla.pic-an2292675)

The Dictionary of Sydney chronicles the lives of some of Sydney’s most fascinating people. Isaac Nathan, who was hailed as ‘Australia’s first composer’ despite being the English-born son of a Polish synagogue cantor, was a prolific composer, conductor, and publisher, who met his untimely tragic end in 1864.

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Isaac Nathan was born in Canterbury, England in 1790. While in London he met the poet, Byron, setting some of his words to music, worked as a music librarian to King George IV and, according to some accounts, acted as a royal spy. He ran into financial troubles and emigrated to Australia, arriving in Sydney in April 1841. Nathan rapidly established himself as a singing instructor, forming a musical society at St Mary’s Cathedral and another later close by at St James’s Church. In 1844 he directed the music at the dedication of the York Street Synagogue. He composed several operas, the most famous of which was Don John of Austria, the first opera to be written, composed and produced in Australia. The opera's first performance in the Victoria Theatre in Sydney in 1847 was, according to Nathan himself, ‘to an elegantly crowded and delighted auditoria’. In 1841, Nathan set the words of Eliza Hamilton Dunlop’s poem,The Aboriginal Mother to music, which was then performed for the first time by his youngest daughter at a grand concert. This poem had been inspired by the terrible murder of about 30 Aboriginal people in 1838 at Myall Creek by white colonists. He also published transcriptions of local Aboriginal music, and composed a patriotic ode, Australia the Wide and Free, which was played at the inauguration of the Sydney City Council in 1842, and the song, Currency Lasses, which commemorated the 58th anniversary of the colony in 1846.

The Currency Lasses by Isaac by Nathan 1846 Courtesy National Library of Australia (nla.mus-vn2424117)

On 15 January 1864, Isaac Nathan stepped off a horse-drawn tram on the corner of Pitt and Goulburn Streets on his way to his home on Pitt Street. The tram suddenly moved forward as he alighted and Nathan fell underneath and was killed instantly. His death was used by lobbyists to argue for the removal of the Sydney's first trams, which were seen to be too dangerous for public safety. Isaac Nathan was buried at Camperdown Cemetery. For more about Isaac Nathan and his life, go to Graeme Skinner's entry on Isaac Nathan on the Dictionary 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.

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The Patineur Grotesque in Prince Alfred Park in 1896.

To wrap up the Sydney Film Festival, I thought today we could look at the origins of cinema in Sydney.

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In 1896, in the early days of moving pictures, the innovative Lumière brothers in France decided to send trained people around the world to film everyday scenes, or 'Actualités', and to promote their invention, the Cinematographe.  These snippets of life around the world were shown to local audiences and sent back to France, where they made up a catalogue of films that the Lumieres could distribute. Employed by the Lumières on this cinematic venture, Maurius Sestier and his wife arrived in Sydney in 1896, and went into partnership with local studio photographer H Walter Barnett. A selection of short films that Sestier had brought with him were shown every half hour in the Salon Lumiere on Pitt Street in September and October 1896, with scenes of life in France and England, and were incredibly popular. In late November, after a sojourn in Melbourne, Sestier & Barnett returned to Sydney with a new selection in which all but two of the films were Australian. As well as numerous scenes filmed at the 1896 Melbourne Cup, these included two showing the Horse Artillery at drill at Victoria Barracks and passengers alighting from a ferry at Manly. For a long time it was believed that some of the scenes of the Melbourne Cup were the only surviving portions of these first Australian moving images, but then in the 1990s another item in the Catalogue Lumière was listed as being Australian. For a long time it was identified as having been shot in Melbourne, but when the National Film and Sound Archive put it online in 2010 and asked for the public for possible information, a volunteer from the City of Sydney Archives identified the location as Prince Alfred Park in Sydney. That film is Patineur Grotesque, “Exercices excentriques d’un patineur muni de patins à roulettes.” (1896) aka The Humourous Rollerskater. it features the routine of an (as yet) unidentified burlesque rollerskater, performing for the camera and a group of spectators. You can see the film on the Australian Screen Online website here. If you don't have Flash, you can also see the whole sequence on the Lumiere Catalogue here. The entertainer is performing in front of the Exhibition Building, in Prince Alfred Park, looking back towards Cleveland Street where a couple of the terraces still stand. The exhibition building was built by Sydney City Council for an intercolonial exhibition in 1870 and was an entertainment space for hire well into the 20th century. It was demolished in the 1950s to make way for Prince Alfred Park Pool and Ice Rink in the 1950s. It is thought to be Australia’s earliest surviving film. What is also amazing is that although this film was screened in Lyon and other locations around the world in 1897, it wasn't seen in Australia until 2010. You can read more about this in National Film & Sound Archive curator Sally Jackson's essay here in Screening the Past. You can find out more about the history of the film on the National Film and Sound Archive website here and here and about the Marius Sestier collection at the National Film and Sound Archive here. Read the Dictionary's entry on the history of film in Australia here and as always, follow the links for more! 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.

Promissory note for one pound issued by Garnam Blaxcell, 29 January 1814 Courtesy: Sir William Dixson Numismatic Collection, State Library of NSW (a6416001 / SAFE/DN/P 262)

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