This year marks the 80th anniversary of the construction of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and as Jane Igoe discovers, its impact on North Sydney has always been significant.
It’s affectionately known as the ‘old girl’ or the ‘old dame’ but during its construction, the Sydney Harbour Bridge was known as the ‘North Shore Bridge’. Residents knew the completion would mark a new era, not only in their day-to-day lives but in Australian and international history.
Each year, as thousands of tourists make their way to Bradfield Park to catch a glimpse of one of the most famous constructions in the world, the local sacrifice and the enormity of the project are somehow dwarfed by its magnificent, shadowy presence.
Dr Ian Hoskins, historian at the North Sydney Heritage Centre, says there was even a separate ribbon cutting for the North Shore, such were the local feelings of pride and significance.
“The bridge ribbon was cut on the North Shore by the then Mayor of North Sydney, Hubert Primrose in 1932. He cut the blue ribbon with a different pair of scissors and these are still kept in the North Sydney historical archive centre’s collection,’’ he explains.
Prior to the construction of the bridge, the lower residential areas of North Sydney were a thriving mix of tenant cottages, small businesses and larger historic homes like Graythwaite, Grantham and Brisbane House at Lavender Bay.
“It was a very densely settled area,” Dr Hoskins explains. “In preparation for the construction, over 400 buildings were demolished, including residences and shops and those families who were renting were not compensated in any way,’’ he says.
This situation caused uproar at the time, with broadsheets like the early Daily Telegraph taking up the cause of those families being thrown out of their homes with no adequate compensation.
North Sydney Council, on behalf of its residents, became embroiled in the debate and in 1926, Deputy Mayor E M Clark wrote to the newspaper. “For over two years, we have been hammering at the government over this question of compensation… we are quite aware that in law, people who did not hold leases when the properties were resumed have no claim… but considering the point of view of simple justice, these claims should be given consideration,” he stated.
Many local residents seemed to be torn between the positive aspects of the bridge such as having immediate access to the city and eastern suburbs, and the chaos that was being created by the local construction.
“There is no doubt there were some terribly tragic stories,” Dr Hoskins confirms. “Many were completely shocked that they were not receiving compensation, especially the local businesses that had been in the area for many, many years. It constituted what really has become the dark side of the history of the Sydney Harbour Bridge.”
For local businessmen and traders, the mayhem created by the land acquisitions, drove many to the wall, and the effects of these widespread demolitions and the loss of local trading meant that many of them would never fully recover.
As the project progressed, the Director of Construction, Lawrence Ennis, established two workshops at Milsons Point. Over 70 per cent of the steel that was needed for the project was imported from England, with the remainder coming from local sources. This was the steel that would be fabricated into the girders.
Meanwhile, the granite that was used for the decorative pylons was quarried near Moruya, where about 250 Australian, Scottish and Italian stonemasons and their families lived in a temporary settlement. These granite blocks were transported back to Sydney locations to be positioned to carry the full weight of the ever-expanding bridge.
Despite the disruptions to everyday life on the North Shore, the excitement and anticipation of the construction was palpable.
Each day, the Reverend Frank Cash of Christ Church Lavender Bay (who was a former engineer) took his camera down to the construction site to take photos. He marveled at the sheer enormity and engineering feats taking place at his front door.
But Dr Hoskins says the amateur photographic enthusiast was also torn between the great construction project and some of the problems it was causing.
“He was an important local North Sydney identity,’’ Dr Hoskins tells North Shore Living. “He eventually wrote a book called Parables of the Sydney Harbour Bridge – he was aware of the terrible impact the construction was causing his parishioners and was trying to support them at the same time.”
The book was full of religious references, photographs and the bridge’s engineering marvels.
The engineering ‘father’ of the bridge was John Bradfield, and his legacy remains a constant reminder in historic Bradfield Park, in the green and shady recesses of the North Shore pylon. During the era of Bradfield, town planning was full of grand visions and the bridge certainly fitted into this theme.
Throughout the 19th century, many proposals were floated for joining the northern and southern sides of the harbour. As far back as 1857, an engineer named Peter Henderson, put forward plans for a vast cast iron bridge from Dawes Point to Milsons Point. Over the years, other bridges and tunnels were also mooted.
But nothing was finalised until Bradfield became involved in the early 1900s, and following a Royal Commission that examined about eight different proposals.
A local North Sydney resident at the time of the bridge opening, Nell Conran, wrote her memories of the construction. “You could see it gradually going up and I’ve never forgotten the night they joined the arch together,’’ she wrote. “All the boats cockle-doodled and everyone got out of bed. We grabbed saucepans and spoons and went along to the corner of our street because you could see the harbour. We banged and made all this noise because they put the arch together in the nighttime. That was the best time to get the steel together… I remember the bridge very well….”
The North Sydney streetscape soon changed forever and Sydney became one city at last.
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