by Eddie

Correcting naughty children

Chamberlains

Do you have mischievous children? We at Dodgy Perth have the solution.

Adverts in the press in 1907 informed you that naughtiness is usually caused by a “disordered stomach”. The good parent will automatically dose the kid up with loads of Chamberlain’s Tablets.

That is to say, a good parent plies their misbehaving child with laxatives. Laxatives.

Apparently you will be delighted with the results.

Should you require any laxatives to make your child into a little angel, just ask your local chemist for the appropriate dose.

by Eddie

Is there a worse city than this?

Edmund Barton Building, Canberra. For unknown reasons, Heritage Listed.

Edmund Barton Building, Canberra. Heritage Listed. Seriously.

We at Dodgy Perth have used not a little ink in the past criticising WA architecture. So, for once, we turn our attention to a different city.

Colin Ednie-Brown, one of Perth’s most famous architects, had the misfortune to visit Australia’s new capital in 1927. ‘Designed’ by Walter Burley Griffin and Marion Mahony Griffin, Canberra has been described as many things, but good is not one of them.

Ednie-Brown certainly did not mince has words:

From an architectural standpoint the place disgusted me.

Everything has come out of the same mould, whether it be a residence or a hotel. The money wasted and thrown away on such a type of buildings is appalling.

Most of the buildings are jerry-built, and of a poor quality of workmanship. The thing that struck me most was the obvious lack of expert supervision throughout the whole of the work.

It is hardly believable that such a scandal should ever have been allowed.

Okay, so Canberra was not exactly to Colin’s taste. Surely he liked something?

Just one building, really. The GG’s residence. But that was only because it was an adaptation of an old homestead.

Just in case you suspect that this is just one WA architect’s opinion. It wasn’t. Famously, Robert Menzies despised Canberra and was embarrassed to be seen there.

So whenever you need cheering up, just remember there are worse places you could live. Like Canberra.

by Eddie

“Commercialised patriotism and commercialised sentiment”

Anzac Day on the Esplanade, 1928

Anzac Day on the Esplanade, 1928

Dodgy Perth missed Anzac Day this year, by virtue of being abroad. However we did discover a bar in Manchester which served Little Creatures Pale Ale, and so a glass was appropriately raised last Saturday.

So, to make up for our failure to attend a service, we offer the thoughts of someone from 1930, who did manage to get to such an event on the Esplanade.

Our writer first notes that the setting is perfect. The Swan River with its white yachts at anchor and the wooded slopes of Mt Eliza extending to the water’s edge making a beautiful and peaceful background to the scene.

As ever, there was a raised platform on the Esplanade for politicians, clergy, businessmen, leading citizens and military officers. In front of the platform were a sorrowful and subdued crowd.

The celebrations claimed to be in remembrance of “gallant fellows whose bones now repose on many of the battlefields of Europe”. But our observer is not so sure that it was.

He had a nagging feeling that the day was nothing more than sneaky way of instilling war propaganda into the receptive minds of young children.

The speeches, he scoffed, were nothing more than “commercialised patriotism, commercialised sentiment, commercialized reverence and commercialised Christianity”.

All he heard was humbug and cant about the glories of war, and nothing of its horror, its resultant sorrow, misery, poverty, and hardships.

Taking a sudden turn to the Left, the writer remembers the huge profits to be made from international disputes.

“Let those who make wars fight them,” he declares.

Complaints about the capitalist adoption of Anzac Day? Criticism of politicians’ motives for engaging in war? At least this could never happen nowadays.

by Eddie

An architectural monstrosity

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People dressed in Western Australia’s traditional costume

If asked to list Perth’s ten worst buildings, this office would definitely include London Court. A cut-price Disneyland Tudor street scene, it was erected in 1937 by shady miner, Claude de Bernales.

How bad does a building have to be to get condemned from the pulpit? Rev Iona Williams described it as so ugly, London Court was an offence against God Himself. Preaching at Trinity Congregational Church, the good reverend said the arcade was a admission that architects had no original ideas. Architecture should be about the now, not a repetition of the past.

But what would a theologian know? Let’s get the opinion of an architect. A poor imitation of Tudor architecture, the architect spluttered, before lashing out at the ridiculous Punch and Judy clock. When archaeologists of the future excavate the arcade, he said, they will be baffled as to why it was erected in the first place. In any case, a good archaeologist would immediately rebury the monstrosity.

Warming to his theme, the architect demanded to know where it would all end? A Leaning Tower of Pisa outside the GPO? Stonehenge on the Esplanade?

In a blistering conclusion, he said the only thing that should be doing impressions is a monkey. And a monkey would probably have made a better job of the London Court anyway.

As you can see, London Court has been much loved ever since it was erected.

by Eddie

Drop-in prophets

I foresee you liking the following snapshot of Perth history

I foresee you liking the following snapshot of Perth history

Madams Zona, Mora and Carlotta were fortune-tellers working in the CBD in 1907. Unfortunately for them, back then being a psychic was illegal. So when a young undercover policeman, Constable Smith, was sent to visit, it was never going to end well.

Constable Smith first entered Madam Mora’s premises in Wellington Street. The plain-clothed bachelor pretended to have a wife who had abandoned him at Coolgardie. He asked the psychic if she could locate this imaginary woman. Mora picked up her cards and told Smith to divide it into three piles.

Using her ‘psychic’ abilities, she read the cards, announcing “You will find your wife shortly.” The cards also revealed a dark man who was connected with Smith’s troubles, and this stranger would try to kill the copper.

Smith paid Zora half-a-crown, and she warned him to say nothing about his visit. Strangely, her clairvoyance did not extend to noticing he was an undercover law enforcement official.

Madam Carlotta was a palmist. In exchange for Smith’s money she also revealed the non-existent wife would soon show up. Not only that, but he would have four children. Even more excitingly, Smith was soon to become an engineer, who would gain fame through an amazing invention.

The final visit to Madam Zona also promised a happy reunion for the policeman. And still the psychics didn’t discover their immediate destiny was to be a trip to court. There, they were spared jail on condition they agreed to cease telling fortunes.

Dodgy Perth does not know what happened to Zona, but Madam Carlotta—known to her friends as Ethel Daley—was unable to give up her trade, and was prosecuted again a few years after.

Mora’s future, though, turned her card skills in a surprising direction. She became an illusionist, regularly appearing at the Melrose Theatre in Murray Street. She also became renowned as a debunker, exposing spiritualist scams and teaching people about gambling tricks.

Now who would have seen that coming?

by Eddie

In the land of the Pharaohs

28th Battalion parades along Barrack Street

28th Battalion parades along Barrack Street

William Granger was a young journalist working for the Great Southern Leader in Pingelly. When WWI broke out, like many others in this State he joined the 28th Battalion to serve the Empire.

On arrival in the Middle East he penned a brief account of everyday life. In his memory, Dodgy Perth invites you to sample the sights and sounds of Egypt while war raged across Europe.

The reader should be aware the following uses language no longer acceptable, but which was normal among white Australians at the time.

Well to say the very least, the train journey was a remarkable eye-opener. I have been always led to believe that the Suez to Cairo journey was through an endless tract of arid desert, but I found that just the opposite was the case. For miles upon mile there was stretched as far as the eye could see, vast green fields in. which profusely growing were tobacco, cotton, dates, grapes, melons, rice, grain, and numerous other articles.

Stations are very numerous and at any of the larger ones a small army of natives besiege us with melons and fruit which they endeavoured to palm off on us at ridiculous prices. However, one can barter with them and often the price is reduced 75 per cent.

The nigs are the laziest and most cunning beggars ever known, they won’t do a tap of work unless the boss stands over them all the time. If the work extends over an hour or so they plead hungry and complain of divers pains—an Australian native is bad enough but they are kings compared with these heathens. They too are abominably dirty, and you can see them covered in sores and flies wandering around eating out of slop buckets. Ugh! they make one sick.

We are at Abbassich, seven miles from Cairo and a mile from Heliopolis. This latter place is an achievement of modern masonry and architecture and is wonder fully clean compared with other towns here. The buildings are large, airy, and the thoroughfares spacy and there is not the appearance of slummery that is so frightfully prevalent in Cairo. Picture shows and salons are run in conjunction with bars and the musical and pictorial portion is free to all.

There are a tremendous lot of wounded here and many large buildings have been commandeered by the military authorities for hospitals. One of the largest and finest buildings in the world containing 700 rooms and a picture of modern science—the Palace—has been taken over for this purpose. This magnificent building was built for a casino, but the license was not granted, hence its being utilised thus, which methinks is for a much better cause.

In passing, beer is obtainable from 1 piastre (2½d) to 2 piastres per pint. English beer can be obtained that is alright, but the local stuff, which is obtainable at every cafe in the street, is abominable stuff and is more deadly than “Mallet Bark”.

A decent feed costs from 6 to 12 piastres, but the mode of dishing up a meal is most peculiar and takes some getting used to.

I have been in Cairo several times but don’t care much for the place. It is of big dimension, and holds a large population and almost every country is represented amongst its cosmopolitan numbers. There is no design about the lay-out of the place, and a street just goes where it will, very often ending abruptly at the wall of some building and back you go to try another way. There are numerous alley-ways and these beggar description, being absolutely indescribable. Filth and immorality prevail and every building seems to be a place of ill-fame and it is not safe to go through these parts singly.

Everybody from mites about two years old to old men somewhere in the vicinity of a century seems to be a business man and spends his time annoying pedestrians trying to palm off his wares. They sell anything and everything. As you walk through the streets you are almost continually followed about by a horde of these pests and they won’t leave till they are forcibly driven off.

I think I have written about all for this time so I will bring this short description of the place to a close.

Corporal William Granger fell in action at the Battle of Polygon Wood on 1 November 1917, aged 25.

by Eddie

The Inglewood scanties

panties

We imagine they looked something like this

As the Dodgy Perth team desperately tries to delete their names from the Ashley Madison database (we had no idea what the site was, we thought it was a garden equipment retailer), we look back to a time when more direct evidence of infidelity was left behind. In the laundry at an Inglewood home.

The date was 13 December 1947. The time, 11.30pm. Laura came back from her friend’s house, and opened her front door. In the living room she discovered an unknown dishevelled couple, while her beloved carpets were covered in beer and cigarette ash. There was no sign of hubby, James.

Screaming abuse, Laura ordered the strangers to get out. This brought James running into the room. Slurring and barely able to stand upright, he too was told to get out the house.

Muttering curses, Laura set about with a mop and brush to restore some order. After that, she stepped into the garden for fresh air.

There were scuffling noises from the outside laundry, and then a woman scampered out and fled. James poked his head around the laundry door.

Naturally, Laura accused him of less than honourable behaviour, but he denied it. By now she was in no mood to argue, and went to bed. Where James slept that night is not recorded.

The next day she went back to the laundry and in the middle of the floor were a pair of scanties. They definitely weren’t hers.

Taking the panties in her hand, she again confronted hubby. This time, with a sore head, facing the irrefutable evidence, he agreed he had not been completely honest the night before. He didn’t even know the woman’s name, having picked her up at the local pub (probably the Inglewood Hotel) for a quickie after he’d been thrown out earlier.

Laura moved out to Fourth Avenue in Mt Lawley, and got her divorce the following year.

The moral, dear reader, is to always clean up after you. And that includes email addresses.

by Eddie

Our glorified saloon

165x215mm

You probably know that to get a building heritage listed, the Heritage Council (aka the Style Council) has to give reasons why it should go on the list. You can find these on the Style Council’s website.

So, let’s take a look at why Parliament House deserves heritage protection:

The 1904 section of the building expresses the sense of grandeur and pride associated with the establishment of Parliament House & Grounds, through both the external and internal design, finishes and furnishings and by the use of Western Australian building materials.

To summarise: According to the Style Council, when it opened people loved Parliament House.

But did they really?

Well, the bare-armed worker who had helped construct the place certainly didn’t love it. In his opinion it was a waste of money and he looked forward to the day when a Labour Government would dispense with “this tommy-rot, and spend all that good brass feeding the poor.”

Mr J. M. Kelly wasn’t too concerned about the poor. He was just concerned about the poor design, which he called a “blot on the landscape”.

I have come to the conclusion that the new Parliament Houses being erected are mean, paltry, and but a sorry housing for the legislators of Western Australia.

Ouch. But do go on Mr Kelly:

On its western side, past which a fine broad road leads you, it has an almost despicable appearance, reminding one of a railway goods shed, with its squat, stuccoed walls.

Okay, but somebody must have liked the design. Perhaps legendary architect George Temple Poole?

It is fair to deduce that the State is on the eve of expending £210,000 for a building of the class of construction and work generally which cannot be considered sufficient for the monumental character of a State Parliament House.

As a skilled architect, maybe Mr Temple Poole has too high expectation. Perhaps we should just ask a civil engineer what they think:

The proposed building has no pretensions whatever to architectural effect in any sense of the term. Judging from the plans and elevations offered for inspection the ‘tout ensemble’ discloses a lop-sided pile of buildings of the most incongruous nondescript order of the cheap and nasty type.

Ouch and ouch again.

But dear reader, you’ve probably noticed that we’ve been unfair. All of these criticisms were made before Parliament House opened. Once it was open, surely the “sense of grandeur and pride” (as the Style Council puts it) will become clear to the people of Perth.

So let’s ask the people on opening day what they thought:

The visitors had time to criticise the extraordinary colour scheme of the Assembly Chamber, count the hundreds of black swans swimming the blue sea of carpet, comment on the dizzy height of the galleries, and draw comparisons—born of the wearying display of stained glass and coloured wood—between the general appearance of the Chamber and that of a glorified saloon.

A ‘glorified saloon’ is more generous than ‘cheap and nasty’ pile of buildings. But not much. And certainly not what you might expect from the Style Council’s glowing description of the external and internal design.

Just because it’s on the State Register doesn’t mean anyone liked it at the time.

Proposed Parliament House. Not built.

Proposed Parliament House. Not built.

by Eddie

The right sort of pervert

Bathing beach, 1920s

You know how it is. Down at Como Beach in South Perth and the only place to change into your swimming togs is in the back of the car.

Well, in 1938 young women were doing so with only the benefit of a towel or two covering the car window.

The Mirror was suitably shocked. Well, sort of shocked. But more a little bit creepy.

Noting that young girls were often undressed on the beach, our journalist made the astounding observation that perhaps young ladies had not grown out of this habit of appearing nude in front of young men.

But while young men would be embarrassed to stare at a naked child, they would not be so coy about a fully developed female body.

And this is where our journalist becomes a little odd. He declares that it is not his intention to be a spoilsport, or to restrict the liberty of girls to change where they like.

After all, those males who get a “spicy delight” from walking up and down past the cars hoping to catch the female form should not be denied their right to do so.

But unfortunately, every now and again someone ruins the party by committing sexual assault.

So, it is up to the girls to make sure that they are not seen by perverts. Only the decent sort of peeping tom is allowed that privilege.

This article is a rewrite of an earlier Dodgy Perth post. You could go and find the older piece, but you shouldn’t really be looking between the towels.