Burnell place, Darlinghurst
Image © City of Sydney Archives, NSCA CRS 51, Demolition photographs, 1900-1949, 000848
When I first came across this beautiful street scene in the City of Sydney demolition photographs archive, and read the address – 6-8 Burnell Place, Darlinghurst – I was expecting not only the houses to be long gone, but quite possibly the little laneway as well. Large swathes of the surrounding area were cleared over decades due to sanitation and safety issues, creating a new industrial, and then business, district around Central Station. I was therefore amazed to find that not only does Burnell Place still exist, nestled in amongst warehouses and office blocks, but the terrace at the end of the cottage row does too – and what a beauty it is! A weathered, beaten up old sandstone edifice, now surrounded largely by the garages of gentrified buildings facing out on to surrounding streets, no one would think to walk down this little byway looking for such a character-filled old home. So, after sifting through the archives for a bit more information, I was surprised to discover that not only had this house survived, alone of all its old companions, but it had also fallen down, and been rebuilt!
Although the date on the image is only approximate – circa 1914 – it gave me a starting point, and while numbers 6-8 no longer exist, I also wanted to find out a little more about the figures in the photograph, if I could. At about the time the photograph was taken, number 8, to the right of the pair of cottages, became the centre of a scandal involving the keeping of a child in a brothel. In reports of the case, one Annie Swenson is listed as the occupant of number 8. A child named Edith Jane Swenson, aged 10, was found to be lodging with her mother and two prostitutes, who were actively plying their trade in the house, with Edith present. Edith was removed by a police officer, and was ordered by a magistrate into a children’s home. Whether or not this was beneficial to poor little Edith is debatable. A Mrs E Swenson is indeed listed as the occupant in 1913, but by 1914 she had been replaced by a bootmaker by the name of Petar De Maria, presumably to the relief of the neighbours. Mr De Maria did not last long though, and by 1915 the house was empty again.
In 1913, number 6 was occupied by a Mrs Sarah Maxton, but throughout 1914-15 the house has no listed occupants. Thus without a firm date, I can only speculate as to the identity of the people in the photograph. Perhaps the two children on the step of number 8 are little De Marias? Or, if the photograph is a little earlier, then it is also possible that one of the children standing out the front of number 8 is the unfortunate little Edith Swenson, with a neighbourhood friend. The worker standing on the front step of number 6 has a proprietary air about him, and I think it’s safe to assume that he stands proudly on his own doorstep for the photographer. Whether he is a lodger of Mrs Maxton’s, or another unlisted tenant, I guess we’ll never know.
An unfortunate incident occurred in Burnell Lane in October 1914, which gives us further information on the character of the neighbourhood, and may shed some light on why it was so hard to find and keep tenants in this little alley. A policeman attempting an arrest was surrounded by a crowd and assaulted. He was rescued by two young women, Maud de Vere and Jean Ward, who rushed from own their homes brandishing revolvers at the attackers, keeping the crowd at bay while the constable secured his man. The judge at the trial of two of the assailants stated that “he thought the young women’s conduct deserved the highest praise…and he hoped steps would be taken to recognise the courage of the girls.” No doubt the law today would have something very different to say about members of the public ‘assisting’ police in the same manner.
The most fascinating story to come from this image, however, is that of the story of the near destruction of number 10. In the early hours of August 31st, 1927, with no warning, the side wall of the entire house collapsed onto the adjoining block. The occupants at the time, Mr and Mrs Joseph Nusta, could do nothing but grab their young child and run for their lives. Miraculously, the internal structures of the house remained intact long enough for them to make their escape, and no one was injured. A picture from the Sydney Morning Herald published the next day shows the extent of the damage, with the entire interior of the house laid open to the street:
Image © The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW : 1842 - 1954) Thursday 1 September 1927.
Although seemingly a huge undertaking, the decision was made to repair the house, and so it remains standing today, while all other traces of the little neighbourhood of Burnell Place have long since vanished. Whether it was the Nusta family, their landlords, or some future owner who decided to rebuild the remains of this beautiful old house is unknown to me at this time, however I am forever grateful for their decision to preserve this little piece of Sydney’s working class history.
