by Eddie

That damnable trolley bus

trolley bus

Ugh!

It won’t surprise anyone to discover that there is a difference between nostalgia and history. Of course there is. But it is easy to blur the lines if you’re not careful, and the old trolley bus service is a case in point

Who doesn’t love Perth’s old trolley buses? You can even purchase a book showing how delightful they were:

Tracks-by-the-Swan

So, it is reasonable to assume they were much loved in their day. They must have been. Mustn’t they?

Let’s ask legendary town planner, Harold Boas. He was responding to a 1936 proposal to extend the trolley bus service to Subiaco, which would involve the service using Mounts Bay Road or Kings Park Road. Harold’s opinion:

We have been battling to improve our highways, and now the Government comes along and is prepared to set us back a quarter of a century.

Basically, the trolley bus service, which had commenced in 1933, was seen as ruining the streetscape by disfiguring it with poles, overhead gear and wires. Oh, so many wires. Or as one grumpy writer to the newspaper put it:

I think most residents do not realise that not only more heavy overhead wires would be stretching across these otherwise beautiful thoroughfares but, worse still, an extra number of ugly poles, set at different angles, would spoil any claim to beauty.

Nor were these the only people who wanted less trolley buses. Two years after Boas’ damning statement, traders along St Georges Terrace were up in arms:

Strong protests continue to be made regarding the proposed use of St. Georges Terrace. General trend of those opinions is that the use of the Terrace as a trolley bus route would spoil one of Perth’s prized streets. On aesthetic grounds strong protests continue to be made.

So, while it’s wonderful to reflect nostalgically on trolley buses, don’t assume that everyone at the time actually liked the buggers.

by Eddie

It’s only gossip if you repeat it

The Sunday Times used to run a column with all the town’s gossip, but few identifying details.

Anyone who was the subject would know who they were, as would their friends and neighbours, but the newspaper trod carefully to enable maximum humiliation with minimum chance of a libel suit.

So, although I have no idea who the subjects were, Dodgy Perth still presents the gossip from the week ending 20 November 1927:

We hear…

That South Perth is the forcing ground for a scandal that will probably wreck several homes.
That a chance word from a mere baby set a social blaze that will take a lot of extinguishing.
That as the little boy had been allowed to see far too much it was the family’s fault.
That if the rumpus gets to the ears of their farmer relative he will make out a new will.

That a married couple from North Perth caused hearty smiles in a tram leaving the Esplanade for home.
That as it was a hot evening, pa and ma reclined on the grass to await the arrival of a picnic launch.
That when they entered the tram, all hands grew merry over the grass-seeds on the coat of pa.
That by the time they arrived at their destination half a hundred passengers had loud laughs.

That a much advertised wedding-to-be may not be if a certain bundle of letters comes to light.
That the owner of the said epistles has been keeping them for many a long year since his jilt.
That an attempt to steal them resulted in the burglar being caught and made to confess.
That as they have also been well photographed, the denouement may be sudden and sulphurous.

That the practice of a Claremont wife of slandering her decent husband recoiled upon her last week.
That as he devotedly gives her all he can in the way of motors and theatres, a pretty lady visitor heard him libelled.
That she discovered that the wife did it to prevent the visitor from falling in love with him.
That in one case the lady visitor fell in love with hubby out of sheer pity for his misery.

That why White City is being saved from slaughter is a mystery no reasonable citizen can fathom.
That this accursed gambling hell has incited many boys and girls to become hooligans and jazz-flappers.
That the type of brawler it breeds is exemplified by the weedy wasters who nightly enter it.
That as bottled beer and pinky is always planted for the closing hour, the subsequent capers would shock a savage.

That a cheeky swain in a northern township bas been given the key of the street over the piracy of several poems.
That for a long time he has been giving the retired farmer’s daughter verses allegedly composed by him.
That he has laboriously copied them from several volumes of poetry by Lord Byron and Bobbie Burns.
That when the schoolmaster relative came along and exposed the fraud the cavalier called no more.

by Eddie

“Low class individuals, gamblers, and the usual motley crew”

Gambling Hells Unmolested by Authorities

Police Look On While Game Proceeds

For a long time past people have been wondering why certain inoffensive Chinese and small-time shilling poker and nap schools have been diligently raided, submitted to the indignity of arrest and subsequent prosecution, whilst large scale gambling hells and dens of iniquity and vice have so far enjoyed virtual freedom from the attentions of the police.

It has been long a matter of common knowledge that there are certain people in the metropolis who have, to the surprise of most people, been able to conduct illegal enterprises without receiving official visits from the police. Needless to say, this fact has resulted in a large patronage from those who like to give their money ‘a fly’ in comparative safety.

Of course, the small-fry do not get a moment’s consideration. If a threepenny game of poker is being played in a secluded paddock or backyard, all the forces of the law are pressed into action to suppress such a terrific offence.

But how do the big-time places fare?

There is a glaring case supplied by the present existing fashionable resort of all the low class individuals, spielers, gamblers, confidence men and the usual motley crew of ‘hangers-on’ that are found at such places.

We refer to ‘Perth’s Monte Carlo.’

Continue reading →

by Eddie

Farewell to White City

Farewell to White City,
 Which was always black;
Farewell to the ‘angels,’
 Who will get the sack.
Farewell to housey-housey
 And the dreary jazz.
And the spinning jennies
 And the razzle-dazz.
Farewell to the rotten
 Desire to win
By hooky or crooky
 The other chap’s tin.
Farewell to the cancer
 On the fair face of Perth.
Farewell to the pervert
 Who gave it birth.
Now for disinfectants
 To sweeten the spot,
And clean up the microbes
 On the blighted blot.

by Eddie

Undressing in cars is asking for trouble

I appreciate that it has been some days since the last Dodgy update. I blame work. And I’m still fiddling with the Venn story to get it right. In the meantime, some sensible advice from the Mirror in 1938:

If some girls must undress in cars surely the more care less of them could make sure that they are not displaying themselves to the vulgar gaze. There is quite a lot of it going on—or coming off?—at ocean and river beaches. And even at places as crowded and as close handy as Como, girls may be seen undressing in the dubious shelter of a car with a towel or two up at the windows.

Possibly with some of them, it is a development from the days when their mothers delighted in completely undressing them on the beaches, to the embarrassment of sensitive young men occupying a nearby patch of sand. But even if the said young men might not be quite so sensitive in the more mature stage of the girls’ development, careless undressing in cars is not to be encouraged.

No one wants to be a spoil sport, or to restrict the personal liberty of the girls who want to use cars as a dressing—or UNDRESSING PAVILION—with or without reasonable privacy. Nor would the average man bother to interfere with those males who derive some form of spicy delight from wandering past such cars in the hope (quite often gratified) of catching a fleeting glimpse of a female in partial undress.

But what local girls want to remember is that there have been cases at some of the outer Sydney beaches where girls, undressing in cars have been attacked by prowlers and perverts.

WE DON’T WANT THAT SORT OF THING TO HAPPEN HERE, AND IT IS UP TO THE GIRLS NOT TO TAKE FOOLHARDY RISKS. AT LEAST MAKE SURE THAT THE CAR IS PROOF AGAINST PEEPING TOMS.

by Eddie

As the actress said to the Commissioner of Railways

To celebrate Movember, we present Henry Whittall Venn, Commissioner of Railways and Director of Public Works in Forrest’s ministry.

A bald, portly man, with a red face and heavy moustache, pompous, extremely conventional, and very, very longwinded, Venn clashed with Forrest over the purchase of rolling stock.

He accused Forrest in the press of disloyalty. When asked to resign from the ministry, Venn refused three times. On 8 March 1896, Forrest requested Governor Sir Gerard Smith to withdraw Venn’s commission. As Venn famously put it, he was “dismissed in his nightshirt”.

So who would have guessed that the awesome moustache was concealing a veritable Don Juan?

To be continued…

by Eddie

Other men’s wives

Simonetti_-_Rothaarige_Frau_öffnet_gespannt_den_Liebesbrief

The State of Westralia has been fairly rich in public men who devoted business hours to writing love letters to other men’s wives. Let’s see—there was H. W. Venn, who woke one fine morning to find himself nearly as famous as Abelard or Dean Swift. But that is old history. This is now.
This is the story of W. Bede Christie, a gentleman who occupied a responsible position in the Lands Department up till last year, when a discerning Labor Ministry selected him to go and lecture in New South Wales and try to attract cockies to this great country.
Step up, Mr Bede Christie. How many trustful women’s hearts have you broken, you sly dog? Step up, and you shall be the Paul of this Paul-Virginia idyll.

In 1906 William Bede Christie—surveyor, author, lecturer, business proprietor, land booster for the state, student of astronomy and authority on Egyptology—was 64 and married. Which is definitely time for a song:

He had been touring NSW to promote the quality of farmland here in WA and to attract farmers from over there to over here.

Accompanying him was Mrs Margaret Regan, a matronly woman who was separated from her husband. However, William and Margaret posed as husband and wife while on tour, and when the Wyalong Star reported that W. Bede Christie and his wife were in town, the news filtered back to Perth.

Christie was immediately recalled by the Government, but the most embarrassing aspect of the story—for him at least, and probably for Mrs Regan—was the publication of his letters to both his lover and her married daughter, Pearl Bould.

Continue reading →

by Eddie

Audrey Jacob Committed

120x165mm

The inquest into the death of Cyril Gidley, engineer on the State motor ship Kangaroo, who was shot dead at Government House Ballroom early on the morning of August 27, 1925, by Audrey Campbell Jacob, art student, to whom he had been engaged, was concluded today by the Coroner, who committed Jacob for trial on a charge of wilful murder.

The Crown Prosecutor stated before the resumption of the case, that he could refute the evidence of Mr and Mrs Jacob, insinuating that the accused had been seduced by Gidley, and that he had been the cause of the separation of accused’s parents. The Court records showed that the cause of the separation was an order of the Fremantle Court on account of the husband’s cruelty.

Mr. A. G. Haynes, counsel for the accused, said the separation was due to Gidley’s insidious propaganda, which he could prove.

The Coroner said he did not wish to hear further evidence.

by Eddie

Josie v The Nazis

82x108mm

I know I promised to move on to Audrey and her amazing eyes, but since I needed to write up Josie’s story today, I thought I’d offer it here for general consumption.

Regular readers will have seen most of the details before, but there are (hopefully) a couple of added twists.

Enjoy:

What a story. What a dame. She was a peroxide blonde, French beauty who dominated Perth’s prostitution business for decades. She held wild, wild parties, was shot in the middle of the night, captured by Nazis, and owned a chain of service stations, one of which was the secret entrance to her Hooker HQ.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present Princess Josie De Bray. Widely thought to be the first peroxide blonde Perth had ever seen.

Of course, she wasn’t really a princess. Except to those men who whispered her name in the Weld Club or in the Officer’s Mess. Nor was she even Josie De Bray, although that was the only name people knew her by. She was, in fact, Marie-Louise Monnier, from the small French Town of St Nazaire. But we’ll call her Josie.

Josie started working in the goldfields during the boom years. She probably started off as a working girl herself, but it wasn’t to remain that way for long.

Continue reading →

by Eddie

Lest we forget???

60x85mm

It will be a memorial all right, but it isn’t a design—there is no design in it.

Estate agents will tell you that three things make a property great: location, location, and location. There’s no denying that the WA State War Memorial has all three.

What it lacks, though, is any sense of scale, dignity, or architectural style. Transplant it from its sublime location to your local park and the SWM would look like the council put it up on the cheap.

And cheap is exactly what it was. Victoria’s Shrine of Remembrance? £80,000. South Australia went for a less costly memorial at only £25,000. And WA? We managed to shell out a whole £3,000. And look what we ended up with.

How was it that the brave men who fought, and often died, for their young nation ended up being commemorated with a Red Dot bargain-basement memorial?

Let Dodgy Perth take you through another tour of Western Australian history.

Continue reading →