Category Archives: Lower Plenty

GOLD!

If there was one thing destined to end the era of convict transportation to Australia, it was the discovery of golden mineral wealth in a land which for so long had been the dumping ground of Great Britain’s most unwilling form of immigrants. Strictly speaking, the Port Phillip District was never a penal colony, but convicts did make their way there assigned to various work parties, or while holding tickets of leave in other colonies. With the discovery of gold in Australia however, the irony in sending felons to a foreign el Dorado of the south was not lost on the authorities when it seemed that half the world was quite literally falling over itself to get there in a mad “rush to be rich”.

The existence of gold in the Port Phillip District had long been something of an open secret, the facts seemingly supressed by a government fearful of the possible social dislocation of an Australian gold rush. Although it’s not widely recognized now, some of these very first rumours of gold in Victoria occurred in the Plenty Ranges and on the tributaries of the upper reaches of the Plenty River itself. One such story at the start of the 1840s involved an eccentric bushman called John or Jemmy Gomm (“Old Gum”) who was supposed to have lived in a hollow tree on the Upper Plenty on the slopes of Mt Disappointment, secretly prospecting for gold but telling people all along he was hunting for lyrebirds. lyre_birdOld Gum had arrived at Port Phillip in 1835 as one of John Pascoe Fawkner’s servants aboard the schooner “Enterprize” but had “gone bush”. A Plenty River pastoralist, George Urquart, writing much later to “The Brisbane Courier” newspaper in 1882 described meeting Gomm, seeing his gold specimens and the situation of his Plenty Ranges bush camp:

An echo of Jemmy Gomm: a 19th century stump house in old Gippsland. (Source: Art Gallery of NSW).
An echo of Jemmy Gomm: a 19th century stump house in old Gippsland. (Source: Art Gallery of NSW).

“He had a nice garden, which was well-stocked with a variety of vegetables, and a beautiful stream of water running through the centre of it. His habitation was an old fallen gum tree, which in its fallen state was fully 70ft in circumference. A shell of the stump stood forming the back of ‘Gum’s’ fireplace; the short space between the fallen trunk and the remains standing upright had been covered in with bark, the burnt portion of the tree cleared out with his adze; and he had in the tree a kitchen, a storeroom where he manipulated his gold, and a bedroom. He handed me a small nugget of gold, which I took, beat very thin, and sent to an elder brother in Sydney, who, when acknowledging his receipt, replied telling me, “to mind my cattle and not think of gold-gathering”. ‘Gum’ was a quiet, inoffensive man. He told me he came from Van Diemen’s Land, and appeared very thankful that I allowed my manager to supply him with rations.”

Melbourne's Police Magistrate, Captain William Lonsdale.
Melbourne’s Police Magistrate, Captain William Lonsdale.

Occasionally “Old Gum” travelled down to Melbourne to dispose of gold, exchanging it for rations, before heading back into the bush. The idea of some whimsical old soul living secretly in the bush and unearthing mineral riches at random quite caught the public imagination at the time and in 1842 the police magistrate, Captain William Lonsdale, despatched troopers to find old man Gomm. They eventually found his camp but Gomm had gone. The bird had flown his proverbial coop in the face of authority, leaving his camp deserted with “crucibles and old bellows, but no gold.”

The Turon River, NSW, scene of Australia's first gold rush.
The Turon River, NSW, scene of Australia’s first gold rush.

The first real rush in Australia occurred about a decade later at the Turon field near Sofala in New South Wales in June, 1851, just prior to the official separation of Port Phillip from New South Wales on the 1st July. After Separation the new Victorian government looked for their own gold strike to stem the exodus north and announced a reward of £200 for the first person to find a payable deposit within easy reach of Melbourne. The so called Plenty River “gold” rush actually coincided with the rush to the Turon but would prove to be a Furphy since the actual gold found on the Plenty would turn out to be comparatively very slight, if not altogether non-existent. At any rate, the story of Plenty River gold was perhaps more a reflection of the desire of local business interests in Melbourne to find gold in Victoria, but not so very far away from the town that it would cause a whole scale exodus to the far flung reaches of the interior. In the resulting excitement, stories of gold in the vicinity of Melbourne abounded and there were even reports of Melbourne streets being dug up, in spite of laws specifically forbidding such activities. It seems that people were finding gold everywhere.

“When first we left old England’s shore
Such yarns as we were told
As how folks in Australia
Could pick up lumps of gold”

The short lived rush to the Plenty region itself seems to have taken place after a certain Thomas Hewitt made the following claims about gold in the Plenty Ranges in what was nevertheless a pretty percipient letter to “The Argus” newspaper which published it on 30 May, 1851:

“…I can assure you that I myself have seen two men who have been up in our ranges, and showed me a parcel of gold dust; as far as I could judge, of a very good quality; and they told me that they had been up in the ranges for two months, and had done very well on their trip. I have had some little experience in geology, and think that it is most likely that gold may be found in some quantities in the Plenty Ranges, the dip of the rock being exactly like those of the California region; but I hope for the good of the country that no such diggings may be made in our part, as through false representation an idle and worthless population might be drawn to the locality, it might at the same time delude many of our steady worthy labourers, who might thrive at the rate of about ten in a hundred. Hoping that this may not be the case, I am, Sir, yours truly, Thomas Hewitt, River Plenty, May 26th, 1851.”

News of gold on the Plenty and in such close proximity to Melbourne resulted in great excitement. “The Argus” carried almost daily reports on the developments and on June 9 reported:

“The gold on the Plenty still continues the main staple of conversation; it is alike talked of by the merchant and labourer… Several samples of so-called Plenty gold are now shown in town and there are reports on all sides of lucky individuals who have found wealth all in a moment…”

Red Dwarf channels Dangerous Dan McGrew.
Red Dwarf channels Dangerous Dan McGrew.

About 300 people were scattered over the Plenty Ranges, washing for gold in the creeks and minor tributaries. With fears of the fields descending into a haunt for the “Dangerous Dan McGrew” stereotype of later poetical fiction, a party of mounted troopers was sent out from Melbourne to keep order, it being reported that there were those in the Ranges “who would steal the nose off one’s face,” (ibid). The report was illustrated by the story of one man who found £17 18s 3d of gold dust only to have £18 worth of goods stolen from his unattended cart while he panned.

Extract from "The Courier", Hobart, 18 June, 1851.
Extract from “The Courier”, Hobart, 18 June, 1851.

The news of gold on the Plenty spread quickly to the other Australian colonies and an article in “The Courier” newspaper of Hobart on June 18 speculated that the Plenty ranges were “a continuation of the Bathurst ranges, where gold is now being found in large quantities…”

As stories of real and richer finds in other parts of the colony soon began to overrun the imaginary Plenty River riches, the story should have died a quiet natural. However Henry Frencham gave it a new lease of life on June 14 when, working as a reporter for the “Port Phillip Gazette”, he claimed to have made his own discovery of gold in the Plenty region. An assay of his specimens revealed no gold but then Henry Frencham also claimed to have found gold at the western end of Bourke Street, Melbourne and would later claim to have also been responsible for the first discovery of gold on the rich Bendigo gold fields. Frencham’s claims might have been questionable but his reports made good copy for the newspapers all the same. One Argus report described Frencham as being “a respectable man, who can have no object in deceiving the public; and although his supposed discovery at the Plenty turned out a mistake, no one doubted his own firm believe in the genuineness of the article discovered.” As the author of this piece was probably Frencham himself, working in his capacity as a reporter, it can only be imagined what the deceived public really thought but interestingly Frencham’s site in the Plenty ranges near what would become Queenstown (St Andrews) would later be worked very successfully as the Caledonia gold field.

Henry Frencham, (James Lerk collection)
Henry Frencham, (James Lerk collection)
Thomas Wragge
Thomas Wragge, (Bush collection)

The 1850s were a pivotal decade in Victoria’s colonial history and Yallambie’s Thomas Wragge found himself in this mix right at the start. He departed England for the Australian colonies as an intermediate passenger on board the SS Northumberland in 1851, just before news of the first Australian gold strikes were received in England. Arriving at Port Phillip with £25 in his pocket to an economic climate defined by gold discoveries, rumoured discoveries and colonial separation, the 21 year old Thomas Wragge showed no inclination to join the overwhelming exodus to the new Victorian gold fields. The young, ex-Nottinghamshire farmer carried a letter of introduction written by familial connections of Yallambee’s John and Robert Bakewell and had his own ideas about how to go about finding riches in Victoria.

“Thomas and his family would not have heard of the Australian discoveries before he departed, but land and pastoral activities seem to have been his primary concerns… The great influx of gold-seeking immigrants had resulted in soaring prices for meat, and keen demand for agricultural produce.” (Calder: “Class the Wool and Counting the Bales).

The years of the Victorian gold rushes saw a great increase in the worth of agricultural produce in the new colony. For instance, hay which had previously sold for 35s a tonne sold in Melbourne in 1852 for £50. Wheat rose from 2s 8d a bushel to 12s and locally, Michael Butler of Greensborough is recorded as receiving up to £155 per tonne for carting flour to the Bendigo fields. The prices paid for beef and bullocks rose even more.

It is unknown today whether Wragge worked immediately on arrival for John and Robert Bakewell at Yallambee, or at any time thereafter between 1851 and 1854 at which later date he is known to have been on the estate. However, the Bakewells had pastoral interests in other Victorian properties and if Thomas was not at Yallambee he may have been working for them at one of these, possibly at Western Port or on the Campaspe.

The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view I by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Distant view of station with cattle in foreground.
John and Robert Bakewell’s “Yallambee”, The Station Plenty, view I by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Distant view of station with cattle in foreground. (Source: National Gallery of Victoria).

Although the only gold found on the Plenty River had by then been proved to be the stuff of fools it seems that there was still enough interest locally for a couple of potential “mines” being attempted at Yallambie. In the additional notes to Winty Calder’s “Classing the Wool and Counting the Bales” she mentions a mine shaft that was sunk next to the river close to the location of the Plenty Bridge Hotel and another sort of “strike” made in the vicinity of the site of William Greig’s old farm, below present day Allima Avenue.

“There was once a mine shaft on Yallambie, over near the pub. There was also another sort of strike just behind the chooks (i.e. N of the house) – Picol Paddock. The other was at Barn Hill (river paddock).” (Calder: Classing the Wool and Counting the Bales, notes).

Heidelberg and Eltham artist Walter Withers' mining series, painted at Creswick in 1893 (from left): "Mining", (Ballarat Fine Art Gallery); "Cradling", (Art Gallery of NSW); "Fossickers", (National Gallery of Australia); and "Panning", (private collection).
Heidelberg and Eltham artist Walter Withers’ mining series, painted at Creswick in 1893 (from left): “Mining”, (Ballarat Fine Art Gallery); “Cradling”, (Art Gallery of NSW); “Fossickers”, (National Gallery of Australia); and “Panning”, (private collection).

In spite of these rumoured mines, it seems pretty clear now that nothing was ever found. However, Yallambee at Heidelberg would prove to be fortunately located close to the roads leading to several diggings. A way side inn was established on the Plenty River at the end of present day Martins Lane to capture the goldfields traffic heading to the Caledonia field through Eltham and Wragge, as the Bakewells’ tenant at Yallambee, would find himself well placed to cater to this market.

“Little hostelries sprang up to offer refreshment to the digger at intervals along the way, and a river crossing settlement emerged at Lower Plenty, where a slab hut was built at the ford near Martins Lane.” (Edwards: The Diamond Valley Story, p40).

William Howitt
William Howitt

William Howitt was ostensibly looking for gold when he was in the colony in 1852 and visited his brother Godfrey’s, brothers in law at Yallambee. In the event, Howitt didn’t find much in the two years he spent on the gold fields but his experiences as described in his monumental work “Land Labour and Gold,” are recognized today as an historically important primary document of life in gold rush era Victoria and include William’s description of the Bakewells’ Yallambee, (quoted previously in these pages).

In another primary account with a local interest from that time, Rebecca Greaves wrote a letter to an uncle in England at the end of 1851 from her parents’ farm in Greensborough, just upriver from Yallambee, and giving her own impressions of the early stages of the Victorian gold rushes at a time when it was still considered “that the Plenty all along abounds in gold”:

“…I read an account that a gentleman I know in Melbourne had the first shovel full found a piece of solid gold the size of a duck’s egg whereas there other gents that were with him only found 2 or three grains and Doctor Barker one of the party did not find any at all so it is all chance. I have seen some of it in the stone it is found in is exactly the same as the marble on our land in fact it is thought that the Plenty all along abounds in gold it is on the Plenty one of the places they are finding so much they are finding it in many parts of the country it is thought that Victoria abounds in Gold, “now what do you think of our emigrating to this gold region?” Everyone has left town to go to the diggings there is not a man or boy to be seen in town even the gents at the Bank are “off to the diggings” such an uproar never was known in the colony before not a ship can leave the bay for as soon as the ships get in port the sailors away to the Gold mines go where you will you cannot see a man unless it is an old man like my Father the papers are full of shops to let on account of the owners going to the “diggings” they are exactly the same plight at Sydney they are finding Gold all over the country; it seems to have raised some of the poor faint hearted English cakes now they have heard of Gold being found in quantities in Victoria they can raise courage enough to come out by ship loads but even now I would not persuade anyone to come all I can say is that the farewells of large families are complete soft cakes to remain in England when once they hear of a country that anyone must do work in if I were only a young man would not I go gold digging and even now I feel half inclined to dress in man’s clothes and go I am certain if I could not dig I could rock the cradle only I should be afraid they would know I was not a man as I should not like to part with my curls for that you know Uncle would spoil my beauty would it not and that certainly would be a great pity…” (Extract from a letter written by 23 year old Rebecca Sarah Greaves at Greensborough, dated 25 November, 1851).

Ray Harryhausen's fleece, the sort of gold that Jason found on Colchis.
“…he did eventually find gold of another kind, in the form of fleece from the sheep’s back…”.

In spite of the hopes of men like Frencham and the beliefs of Rebecca Greaves, the Plenty River  never really got going as gold country although Victoria as a whole would for a while prove to have some of the richest fields the world has ever known. Although Wragge didn’t try his luck on these goldfields he did eventually find gold of another kind, in the form of fleece from the sheep’s back and he died a wealthy man. By the time he pulled up stumps at Yallambie in 1910, the £25 capital he carried with him on arrival had increased to more than £400,000.

Those golden days are long ended although today the signs of those times can still be seen in the occasional abandoned mullock heaps of the bush and in the presence of grand, gold rush era, inland towns. My father, a Ballarat boy born and bred, was known to point knowingly at times towards the horizon when visiting that town saying, “There’s more gold in those hills than ever came out of them.” He was speaking maybe from family experience since legend has it that, before the war, his family were supposed to have kept a large suede bag full of gold dust and quartz. “It was from the old days when your great grandfather was a miner and it was kept over for a time of need.” His childhood was marked by the years of the Great Depression and by end of the War, that bag and its contents were most definitely gone.

Lerderderg River, September, 2013.
Lerderderg River, September, 2013.

As a kid I used to go bushwalking into the Lerderderg Gorge halfway to Ballarat, using an old miners’ mule track which led down to the river. The Lerderderg is very close to Melbourne but as a lad it was like walking into a world of my imagination not unlike Middle-earth. There was a mine tunnel there which went in one side of a ridge and came out the other, all dug by hand by Chinese miners in the 19th century and held up without timber supports. It used to be a test of courage for us as kids to crawl through the tunnel with small battery torches from one end to the other with the roof and walls gradually getting narrower and narrower until emerging in a scramble on the other side. I went back there a few years ago with my own son but could no longer find the entrance to the tunnel. All that remained of it by then was a big hole in the side of the ridge marking the location of its collapse. Another example in the “what ifs” of life’s story.

Uncle Scrooge contemplates one of life's eternal verities. (From Uncle Scrooge: Back to the Klondike, 1953).
Uncle Scrooge contemplates one of life’s eternal verities. (From Uncle Scrooge: Back to the Klondike, 1953).

Tolkein once noted, “All that is gold does not glitter” which references a much older saying. Whatever the source, its age old meaning remains true. Not everyone who went looking for gold in Victoria in the 1850s necessarily found what they were looking for, even those who like Hume’s Madame Midas found a dash of the precious metal at the bottom of a mine shaft or in a pan dipped into a river. But gold can be found in sometimes unexpected places. chaplin_goldIt might be the gold in the memory of a childhood adventure in an abandoned mine or in the worth of fleece cut from a sheep’s back. It might be a certain note in a piece of music that you love or it might even be the gold in that moment when your football team gets up by a point with a kick after the siren. And it may be the gold in a simple smile.

That’s gold.

 

ON YOUR BIKE

“The journey of life is like a man riding a bicycle. We know he got on the bicycle and started to move. We know that at some point he will stop and get off. We know that if he stops moving and does not get off he will fall off.” (William Golding)

According to one survey, 43% of all Australians own a bicycle. It’s not clear whether that statistic counts every rusted machine parked with bent pedals at the back of every garage, or every bike gathering dust under a house across the nation, but one thing is pretty clear. There are an awful lot of bikes out there. Bike riding is big in the north east and in Yallambie, the history of cycling is probably a lot more extensive than people generally realize as they pedal around the neighborhood.

The late 19th century saw the world’s first “bike craze” and a proliferation in the number of bike makers. Some of them, like the Dux Cycle Co. of Little Collins St, Melbourne which employed 150 workers, were established locally. The Dux cause was helped when a Dux was used for the first Perth to Brisbane cycle ride in 1897, a distance of nearly 6000km.

Australia found itself literally in the mainstream of the world-wide bicycle boom as it emerged from the financial recession of the early 1890s and by 1897 there were over 150 brands of home grown and imported bicycles to choose from. Innovations such as the tubular steel frame, the ball bearing, roller bearing chain and pneumatic tyres were all products of advanced manufacturing techniques but in practice, any reasonably competent home handyman or bush mechanic could assemble or repair them. While bikes were comparatively expensive to buy they were ultimately a much cheaper alternative to keeping a horse and trap or even to buying regular rail tickets. As Jim Fitzpatrick observed in the introduction to “The Bicycle and the Bush”, his widely regarded book on the history of Australian pedalling, the bicycle: “required no food or water, was two or three times as fast as a horse or a camel, and did not drop dead from eating poisonous plants.”

Harry Wragge riding his bicycle at Yallambie on the Homestead road, south of the stableyard, c1895, (Bush collection).
Harry Wragge riding his bicycle at Yallambie on the Homestead road, south of the stable yard, c1895, (Bush collection).

In Yallambie, Henry Ernest “Harry” Wragge, (born 1880), the youngest son of Yallambie Homestead’s Thomas Wragge, was an early exponent of bike riding in this district. Harry had a life-long fascination with all things mechanical and is known to have owned a bicycle by May, 1896. (Calder: Classing the Wool and Counting the Bales, p145). The first Australian Cycle Show was held in March that year and it would be interesting to know if the teenage Harry convinced his parents to purchase a bike after attending the show.

Harry Wragge with his diamond frame, "safety" bicycle, photographed near the front door of Yallambie Homestead, looking towards the northern gate into the farm yard area, c1900, (Bush collection).
Harry Wragge with his diamond frame, “safety” bicycle, photographed near the front door of Yallambie Homestead, looking towards the northern gate into the farm yard area, c1900, (Bush collection).

A photograph in the Bush collection shows a young Harry riding his bike along the Homestead Road in front of the house garden on what is now the Lower Plenty end of Yallambie Rd and another shows Harry at a slightly later date, standing proudly alongside his pushbike in front of the Yallambie stable yard. Harry’s machine was a diamond frame, “safety” bicycle, a style first perfected by Humber in 1890 and known as the “safety” because of the ease and safety of riding one compared to the “ordinary” or “Penny Farthing” type. It is a design that, with few real modifications, has remained the most common bicycle design up to the present day.

Diamond Creek's music teacher, Ada Lawrey used her bicycle to deliver piano lessons throughout the district. (Source: E Tingman, The Diamond Valley Story by D H Edwards)
Diamond Creek’s music teacher, Ada Lawrey used her bicycle to deliver piano lessons throughout the district. (Source: E Tingman, The Diamond Valley Story by D H Edwards)

Another early rider was Ada Lawrey, the daughter of one of Diamond Creek’s first settlers and a music teacher who at the start of the 20th century used her bicycle to pedal widely around the district giving piano lessons. A photograph shows her inside the gates of her parents’ Diamond Creek home alongside a fine looking machine, complete with a bicycle luggage carrying valise attached to the frame, ideal perhaps for carrying her lunch box and fork, or maybe just a tuning fork.

Bike riders at Kent's Plenty Bridge Hotel, c1900.
Bike riders at Kent’s Plenty Bridge Hotel, c1900.

Cycling clubs were formed in many places and city dwellers travelled on bicycles to places near and far in the country side that were a refreshing change to the grime and factories of inner-city Melbourne. In several of the earliest extant photographs of the Plenty Bridge Hotel, bicycles are seen pulled up outside the building, evidence perhaps of the importance of the old hotel as a stopping place for travellers on the Plenty River on the road from Melbourne to Eltham and beyond.

Newspaper report from p10, "The Age", 15 April, 1907.
Newspaper report from p10, “The Age”, 15 April, 1907.

A 1907 newspaper report in “The Age” described a cycle race organized by the “League of Victorian Wheelmen” and promoted by the publican of the Plenty Bridge Hotel. The route followed country roads from the Plenty Bridge to Bundoora and back again over a “bad course” with “hilly roads and dangerous turns”. For the record, a Mr D Hall won the event, on a handicap.

When I surveyed my old bike at the back of the garage last week with this post in mind, it seemed like it too was starting with something of a handicap. It was purchased nearly a decade ago from a large supermarket chain, familiar to most people in this town, and looked like it was worth what I paid for it that day I went shopping with money for a loaf of bread and came home with a bike.

barnum_baileyMy thoughts strayed. ‘Whatever happened to the bike my father brought home as a rusted old frame “found in a paddock”?’ I spent weeks sanding and repairing that bit of scrap metal and then delivered newspapers from it on dark mornings throughout Rosanna. It later took me on trips as far afield as Bendigo and Ballarat and for a while it seemed indestructable but as I recall, died a sudden death one day as I rode home from Heidelberg Park with football boots dangling across the handlebars. The boots became entangled with the front wheel and, with the front wheel motion suddenly arrested, the rest of the bike and associated rider were destined to continue, the resulting Barnum & Bailey circus somersault a clown act to recall.

That’s what happened to it.

What chance today? In the end I wheeled out my wife’s old pushbike from the garage instead, a good looking, red “girl’s” version with no horizontal bar and streamers on the handlebars. The tyres were a bit perished but it had been a fine machine in its day although that day apparently had been some time ago.

“You’re not going out looking like that are you,” my wife said when she saw the overall effect of me sitting astride her glorious, red retro riding road machine in an outfit she said resembled a 1920s bathing costume.

“Why not? I forgive people wearing Lycra don’t I?”

“I’m glad he didn’t ask me,” said the boy not looking up from his iPhone.

“You don’t know what you’re missing. It’ll be just like Pokemon Go.”

Main Yarra Trail at the intersection with the start of the Plenty River Trail, July, 2016.
Main Yarra Trail at the intersection with the start of the Plenty River Trail, July, 2016.

TRAILING THE PLENTY RIVER:

The Plenty River Trail is a shared path that leaves the Main Yarra Trail near the confluence of the Plenty and Yarra Rivers in the south and follows the Plenty River valley to a point beyond the northern margins of Greensborough. The Main Yarra Trail is like a wide open highway compared to the Plenty River trail and gets commensurately more cycling traffic as a result.

Confluence of the Plenty and Yarra Rivers, July, 2016.
Confluence of the Plenty and Yarra Rivers, July, 2016.

As I approached the branch to the Plenty River Trail on a recent weekend now past, a tandem bicycle flew past me on a journey down the Yarra, its riders grinding away at the pedals on the level flood plain of the Yarra Trail to achieve a missile like velocity. ‘Cripes, I’d like to see them try that on up there,’ I thought to myself as I looked at the incline that is the start of the Plenty River Trail.

plenty_bike_map

“Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do,
I’m half-crazy all for the love of you.
It won’t be a stylish marriage –
I can’t afford a carriage,
But you’d look sweet upon the seat
Of a bicycle built for two.”

The Plenty Trail leaves the Main Yarra Trail at Viewbank at this point and rises quickly to the vicinity of the old Viewbank Homestead archaeological site, an ascent of about 30m where commanding views are to be had out across Bulleen and Templestowe. The day I was there a fine winter breeze was blowing and enthusiasts were flying a large model sail plane out over the valley. It was presumably radio controlled since like a boomerang, it kept coming back no matter how many times they tried to get rid of it.

Rural scenery at Viewbank Homestead historic site, July, 2016.
Rural scenery at Viewbank Homestead historic site, July, 2016.

Beyond this, the path crosses Banyule Rd and runs in a straight line alongside Hendersons Rd. It passes a pony club where it descends steeply to a point at the end of Martins Lane where, as mentioned previously, my wife’s great grandfather once kept a spectacularly unsuccessful chicken farm.

The Trail then crosses the Plenty River, the first of many crossings, and follows a route at the back of Heidelberg Golf Club between the Club and the River. For many years this was the “missing link” in the trail as the Golf Club and Council struggled to come to an agreement about the siting of the path and a bridge. After agreement was reached, the link was finally opened to riders and pedestrians in March, 2007.

Old Lower Plenty Road, Bridge and Plenty Bridge Hotel, c1957
Old Lower Plenty Road, Bridge and Plenty Bridge Hotel, c1957

Crossing the River again via the Old Lower Plenty Road Bridge adjacent to the former site of the Plenty Bridge Hotel, the Trail is then in Yallambie territory proper.

Plenty River in flood looking upstream towards the site of the old pump house (removed early 1980s) which had earlier replaced the windmill visible here.
Plenty River in flood looking upstream towards the site of the old pump house (removed early 1980s) which had earlier replaced the windmill visible here. (Bush collection).

It passes the Yallambie Tennis Club and the Soccer Ground before rounding out onto the Yallambie common at the next bend in the River. The well-remembered “Lone” Hoop Pine, oak trees, cypresses and remnant orchard are the neglected features of the National Trust Classified landscape that can be found here.

The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view XII by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Distant view of hut with creek in foreground.
The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view XII by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Distant view of hut with creek in foreground. (National Gallery of Victoria)

Beyond this are the locations of William Greig’s 1840 farm and William Laing’s Woodside (Casa Maria), the site of the latter being marked by several ancient Italian Cypress trees which can be seen standing on a ridge high above the River.

The path then splits in two and there is a choice of following it for some way on either side of the River, a relic of the days when the River marked the boundary between the Shires of Diamond Valley and Eltham and the two banks were under separate administrations. Today the whole of the Plenty River Trail falls within the Municipality of Banyule with Yallambie at its centre.

Up river, the Montmorency Football Oval on the eastern or “Monty side” covers the site of a former tip. Wonder in awe at a time when it was thought environmentally OK to use a river landscape as a tipping ground! The area is well maintained but if you look closely at the river bank below the oval you can see some evidence of its previous use at places where the bank is eroded.

River valley photographed from the Plenty River Trail opposite Montmorency Secondary College, July, 2016.
River valley photographed from the Plenty River Trail opposite Montmorency Secondary College, July, 2016.

After Montmorency Secondary College is passed, the Trail arrives at the Willinda Park Athletics Track where it becomes a single path on the western side of the River. On the eastern side, the factories on Para Rd show their backs to the River but even here wild life can be found. I stood looking from a distance at what I thought was a tree stump at the back of the factories, trying to make my mind up about what I was looking at. Then it moved and the kangaroo I had in fact been watching, hopped away and out of sight.

At what was formerly the northern most boundary of the old Montmorency Farm, Para Rd and the Greensborough/Eltham single track railway cross the River using separate bridges and here the Plenty River Trail appears for the moment to end abruptly in a residential court. The Trail is not well sign posted throughout its length but at this point it leaves you guessing completely about what course to follow next. The answer is to travel about 100m along Bicton St and resume the Trail at the far end.

At Poulter Reserve the Greensborough rail station can be accessed by riders who have had enough and want to return home via a train or cross to the looming ugly presence of the Greensborough Plaza for a café latte.

Further on, the Trail crosses the River again under the Main Street Bridge next to the remains of the old swimming pool that was built in the Depression within the bed of the Plenty River itself.

Cheltenham Cycle Club under the old Main Rd Bridge, Greensborough, 1897, (Pictures Collection, State Library of Victoria).
Cheltenham Cycle Club under the old Main Rd Bridge, Greensborough, 1897, (Pictures Collection, State Library of Victoria).

Lost history abounds here. A photograph of bicycle riders at the original blue stone bridge in 1897 is another reminder of the area’s historic popularity with riders. The original 1864 blue stone bridge was removed progressively from 1974 until 1983, its massive blue stone buttresses being turned into a barbecue on the corner of Main St and St Helena Rd above in what was surely a loss to local history but a win for sausages.

Old orchard scene showing Willis Vale Farm apple trees on Partington's Flat. (Source: Greensborough Historical Society).
Old orchard scene showing Willis Vale Farm apple trees on Partington’s Flat. (Source: Greensborough Historical Society).

A dinky little suspension bridge crosses to Whatmough Park on Partington’s Flat where the original farm, Willis Vale, was formerly situated until being burned out by a bushfire in the 1950s. Local football is played at many of the ovals along the River on any given weekend and the day I was at Partington’s, a DVFL game was in progress between St Mary’s and Epping. It might have been a reserves game but it was very popularly attended and an example of how I remember footy used to be played. The skills were of course a long way short of AFL standard but for all that, or perhaps because of it, I found it was a very enjoyable game to watch. Forget the “flood” of players up the ground, a feature of AFL football in the modern day.  I saw a bit of mud, a bit of biffo and a full forward who stayed rooted to the goal square, waiting for the ball to be kicked to him.

And further to the record, after trailing early, St Mary’s beat Epping 11.16 to 9.3.

"Goat track" leading to the Greensborough Bypass Trail from the Plenty River Trail, July, 2016.
“Goat track” leading to the Greensborough Bypass Trail from the Plenty River Trail, July, 2016.

Up-river from Partington’s, the Plenty River Trail passes under the Greensborough Bypass Road which crosses the River on an elevated roadway high above. A plane could fly under it. A Zeppelin could park under it. At this location there is an un-signposted “goat track” from Plenty River Dr at a point just about opposite Booyan Cres. The “goat track” is a mountain bike switch back but by successfully negotiating the mud for a short distance access can be gained to the Greensborough Bypass Cycle Path and thence to the Metropolitan Ring Rd Trail. By all reports you won’t find a single B-Double semi travelling in the outside lane.

"Batman Apple Tree" at Greensborough from "The Leader" newspaper April, 1910. (Picture by R G Brown, Museum Victoria Collections).
“Batman Apple Tree” at Greensborough from “The Leader” newspaper April, 1910. (Picture by R G Brown, Museum Victoria Collections).

Staying on the Plenty River Trail the path arrives at the so called “Batman Apple Tree” next to an easement below Corowa Cres and adjacent to the old Maroondah Aqueduct Pipe Bridge.

Early view of the Maroondah Aqueduct pipe bridge over the Plenty River at Greensborough, photographed by J H Henry, (National Library of Australia).
Early view of the Maroondah Aqueduct pipe bridge over the Plenty River at Greensborough, photographed by J H Henry, (National Library of Australia).

Nearby the Pioneer Children’s Cemetery holds the unmarked graves of children from the Whatmough and Partington families, early settlers on this part of the River. Not far beyond is the official end of the Plenty River Trail at the base of a flight of stairs leading down from Punkerri Circuit.

Official end of the Plenty River Trail below Punkerri Circuit, Greensborough, July, 2016.
Official end of the Plenty River Trail below Punkerri Circuit, Greensborough, July, 2016.

Although it is sign posted to this effect the trail is actually longer than its official 12.3km length and follows a path further along Dry Creek, the merry sound of water running nearby which surely belies its name. The track passes through a closed gate and along an unmade path to an easement running between Plenty River Drive and Mclaughlans Lane where the 520 bus to Doreen has a stop on Sugar Gum Blvd. This is the final end of the Plenty River Trail but the vicinity also marks the south eastern approaches to the Plenty Gorge Parklands, whose mountain bike adventure trails beckon more determined riders.

But that’s a whole other story.

Last orders please

The Desert Continent can be a thirsty place. The Quixote sight of windmills standing high above dry watering holes in the Outback is evidence enough of that, but if extra evidence is needed, take a peek at the bending elbows inside any Aussie pub on a Saturday night and see just how thirsty this dry land can really be.

It’s true that many Australians like a drink. Then they like another. To paraphrase Slim Dusty, they love a beer in “moderation” hoping to “never ever ever get rollin’ drunk” and as watering holes go, the Lower Plenty Hotel across the River is the nearest place to moderately bend that elbow at Yallambie. Positioned on a ridge above the Plenty River opposite Yallambie, the “Local” was built in the 1960s when the surrounding sub divisions were just beginning to gather momentum. It might seem in a drinking haze today that the pub has been there for as long as anyone can remember but, as mentioned previously in these pages, the earlier Plenty Bridge Hotel preceded it by more than 100 years.

The old Plenty Bridge Hotel was a country pub in the classic traditions of Aussie drinking, the story of which stretches way back into the 18th century and to an infamous trade in “grog” by the 102nd Regiment of Foot, the aptly named Rum Corp of NSW. Aussie pubs themselves descended from the institution of the British public house and rural tavern, with the addition over time of a number of uniquely Australian features, such as the long bar and ice cold beer setting them apart from those of the Old Country.

The Lower Plenty Rd Bridge and the Plenty Bridge Hotel, photographed by Mark Daniel, 1900, SLV.
The Lower Plenty Rd Bridge and the Plenty Bridge Hotel, photographed by Mark Daniel, 1900, SLV.

The weather board building at the Plenty River crossing place that formed the Plenty Bridge Hotel first opened for business in 1858 and it remained a well-known centre of community life in the district for at least a century.

Victorian Railways No.1 steam charabanc at the Plenty Bridge Hotel, (located opposite the south east corner of Yallambie Park), c1905
Victorian Railways No.1 steam charabanc at the Plenty Bridge Hotel, (located opposite the south east corner of Yallambie Park), c1905
John Bakewell, 1807-1888

There has been speculation that it may have been preceded by an earlier pre-gold rush establishment on the same site which, to put this into some kind of perspective within the larger history of Yallambie, means that the first beers were being pulled at the Plenty Bridge during the Bakewells’ continuing involvement at “Yallambee Park” and while Thomas Wragge was yet a young man.

Thomas Wragge
Thomas Wragge
Opening of the Heidelberg Golf Links at Bryn Teg, 1928
Opening of the Heidelberg Golf Links at Bryn Teg, 1928

That may be, but at any rate, much of the later life of the Plenty Bridge became synonymous with its use by the Heidelberg Golf Course as a 19th Hole and indeed, over time, the hotel would even become known by an alias, the “Golf Club Hotel”.

In 1948 however, Robert (Bob) Irwin, a former Riverina Publican, took over the hotel licence with a vision of creating a country-club style venue within the environment of the old hotel. Among other renovations, the Plenty Bridge was given a lick of paint, sun blinds were installed and Irwin added what was commonly supposed to be Melbourne’s first formal beer garden.

Melbourne’s first formal beer garden.
Melbourne’s first formal beer garden. Source: John Irwin Family Collection
White coated "waiters" at the beer garden service counter.
White coated “waiters” at the beer garden service counter. Source: John Irwin Family Collection

White coated “waiters” attended patrons within a vine clad and trellised enclosure and on a sunny day the atmosphere seemed quite fashionable.

This later life of the Plenty Bridge coincided with an Australian liquor licencing policy which, although seeming strange to the drinker of today, existed for a significant part of the 20th century. This was the era of “6 o’clock closing” when public bars were forced to close at 6pm, a mere hour after most working men knocked off for the day. The infamous “6 o’clock” swill” as it became known developed as a result of austerity measures introduced during the 1st World War but, under pressure from the local Temperance Movement in a sort Antipodean version of American Prohibition, it became permanent, remaining until long after the end of the 2nd War.

"The Bar", John Brack's apology to Manet and an ironic take on Australia's "6 o'clock closing" laws, (John Brack, 1954, collection of the NGV).
“The Bar”, John Brack’s apology to Manet and an ironic take on Australia’s “6 o’clock closing” laws, (John Brack, 1954, collection of the NGV).

The Plenty Bridge Hotel as a pub located “almost” in the country, appears to have escaped the most notorious aspects of the regular 6 o’clock, city worker, drinking binge. As a country pub, it was one of the first places where a drink could be legally purchased on Sundays, before the general easing of liquor licencing laws and the gradual repeal of all the various state Sunday Observance Acts.

Men crowded in the corner of the main bar of the Plenty Bridge Hotel in the late 1940s. The photograph half visible on the wall to the right was a team photograph of the Montmorency Football Club.
Men crowded in the corner of the main bar of the Plenty Bridge Hotel in the late 1940s. The photograph half visible on the wall to the right was a team photograph of the Montmorency Football Club. Source: John Irwin Family Collection

A photograph from the John Irwin Family Collection taken inside the main bar of the Plenty Bridge Hotel in the late 1940s to my mind has an echo of one of Max Dupain’s iconic bar room images of a similar era.

Exhibition of Max Dupain photography at Mossgreen, a commercial gallery in High Street, Armadale, May, 2016.
Exhibition of Max Dupain photography at Mossgreen, a commercial gallery in High Street, Armadale, May 2016.

Dupain, perhaps better remembered for a single, quintessentially Australian image of a sunbaker he took on a NSW beach, was an incredibly prolific and gifted photographer whose subjects continue to resonate throughout the Australian consciousness. In the 1940s he was commissioned by the Australian Department of Information to document the Australian way of life and his photographs from this time remain an important record of the changing face of Australian society.

Similarly, the Plenty Bridge Hotel picture shows characters of that now largely bygone world. A time of laconic Australian men, their elbows resting lightly on the bar on a Saturday afternoon, yarning over cold glasses while their women sat across the hallway, segregated inside the so called “Ladies Lounge” in front of the fireplace with light shandies their only company.

"Saloon Bar at Petty's" Max Dupain, 1944, an important record of mid 20th century Australian beer room culture. NGA, http://artsearch.nga.gov.au/Detail.cfm?IRN=85786
“Saloon Bar at Petty’s” Max Dupain, 1944, an important record of mid 20th century Australian beer room culture. NGA, http://artsearch.nga.gov.au/Detail.cfm?IRN=85786

In those days the barman acted as a sort of de facto hotel security and Mick Noonan, the head barman at the Plenty Bridge, was no exception. Robert Irwin had met Mick years earlier at the Bendigo Show where he watched him step into the ring in one of those old time, “Thorn Birds” style boxing tent displays to take on the champion. Mick took down the champion in a one sided contest after which Robert got talking to him, liked him immediately, and offered him a job as the barman in his pub. When Robert moved to the Plenty Bridge with his wife Daisy and young son John, Mick came with the family.

Mick (pictured right), the Plenty Bridge barman in front of the tools of his trade.
Mick Noonan (pictured right), the Plenty Bridge barman in front of the tools of his trade. Source: John Irwin Family Collection
Another view behind the PBH bar.
Another view behind the PBH bar. Source: John Irwin Family Collection

Another Irwin picture from this time shows Mick behind the main bar with its top shelf liquors, valve radio and cash register. Mick’s reputation as a boxer was usually enough to keep law and order in the pub but on at least one occasion history records how this reputation was briefly put to the test by a stranger entering the bar hell bent on trouble. As the story goes, Mick remained silent to a variety of insults and challenges from this stranger before carefully folding his towel and emerging from behind the bar. In the yard outside between the pub and the stables, the hotel patrons assembled in expectation, forming a ring into which the two protagonists entered. While the stranger hurled verbal abuse Mick prepared himself without a word. Suddenly, with arms and knuckles flailing, the stranger charged into the attack.

The fight that followed was brief. Very brief. It’s said that Mick simply swayed aside from the onslaught and let go with a single punch. The stranger went down and didn’t get up. Without a word Mick went back inside the hotel to resume his duties as though nothing had happened.

Illustrated beer coaster presented to Mick by patrons of the Plenty Bridge Hotel to commemorate his boxing display.
Illustrated beer coaster presented to Mick Noonan by patrons of the Plenty Bridge Hotel to commemorate his boxing display. Source: John Irwin Family Collection

The story of the “Fight” at the Plenty Bridge Hotel grew in the telling and was remembered locally for years afterward.

The "Walk, Trot and Gallop", a light hearted event at the Eltham Agricultural Show, c1950. Mick, the Plenty Bridge barman, is pictured centre facing the camera and wearing a white shirt. He came second. No one remembers whether this was followed by a boxing event...
The “Walk, Trot and Gallop”, a light hearted event at the Eltham Agricultural Show, c1950. Mick Noonan, the head barman at the Plenty Bridge, is pictured centre facing the camera and wearing a white shirt riding the retired race horse Tony. They came second. No one remembers whether this result was followed by an unscheduled boxing event… Source: John Irwin Family Collection

It cemented Mick’s reputation as the law man of the PBH: “He was unruffled and not easily angered – but it was a mistake to take his quietness lightly.” (John Irwin)

The beer garden at the Plenty Bridge, AKA the Golf Club Hotel.
The beer garden at the Plenty Bridge, AKA the Golf Club Hotel.

Robert Irwin developed the Plenty Bridge into a thriving business that drew patrons from near and far. The Montmorency Football Club were regular drinkers. They won their first DVFL Premiership in 1951 and no doubt bent a few elbows back at the Plenty Bridge that evening.

The Plenty Bridge Hotel’s Robert Irwin was a Great War veteran who had become a father for the first and only time relatively late in life. He loved animals and any kind of sport and was still playing cricket for the RSL in his 50s. Irwin worked hard to achieve his vision for the Plenty Bridge Hotel but in the early 1950s he collapsed while on the nearby Heidelberg Golf Course. The family left the Lower Plenty Hotel in December 1951 and moved to Rosanna in 1953 where in 1958, Robert Irwin died of a coronary occlusion aged 59. He left behind his wife Daisy and son John. Remembered as a loving father and husband, Irwin is buried at the Warringal Cemetery in Heidelberg with his wife.

The Plenty Bridge survived for a few more years under a succession of new licensees, Walter Stewart from 1951 to 1954, Noel Seletto from 1954 to 1957 and William Edwards from 1957 to 1958, but it was the end of an era. The hotel was demolished in 1958, the location being cleared away and standing empty for many years before the site was finally consumed last year by a newly constructed car park. With the onset of building work in the adjacent and interestingly named Edward Willis Court, the people and the times of the Plenty Bridge are long gone and all but forgotten, the legendary fight and the last orders of the ghosts of drinkers past lingering on in a few fast fading photographs and memories.

Young John Irwin with transport in front of the Plenty Bridge Hotel.
Young John Irwin with transport in front of the Plenty Bridge Hotel. Source: John Irwin Family Collection

Perhaps the final word in this story should therefore go to Robert Irwin’s only child, John, now a grandfather himself of Houston, Texas. John enjoyed an idyllic childhood at the Plenty Bridge. In the following wonderfully immediate and eloquent description, extracted from an unpublished family memoir and quoted here by permission, a window is offered into that Plenty River childhood from another time:

“My mind turns back to a child’s eye: clever, brilliant, uneducated Nan, my Tasmanian grandmother, and our walks together in the bush, her stories of fairies and the spiritual world, Nan milking the cows, separating the cream, making butter with a churn and butter pats, and curling the butter, Nan telling fortunes with cards, reading palms, her pansies and jonquils, her quick wit and ever positive nature, Nan listening to “Blue Hills” on the radio; riding my three wheel bike, on two wheels at the Eltham tennis courts while my mother played, meeting my first friends at tennis; eating ice cream opposite the Eltham tennis courts on Main Road near the street up the hill to the artists’ colony at Montsalvat, my father buying my Shetland pony Dressie (Dresden Lea) at the artists’ colony, meeting someone named Jorgensen at Montsalvat; sitting on a stool in the main bar surrounded by loud men drinking, being “shouted” lemon squashes and raspberry & lemonades; the lush beer garden brimming with guests; speaking to ladies enjoying a drink in their cars in front of the hotel; Christmas morning, 1949 when I was four and was given my first two wheel bike, Mick holding the seat as I rode with him to the dairy to get milk, learning to balance and the thrill of riding home to show my parents; Nan in the backyard asking me to get the men from the bar, and finally understanding there was a deadly snake between us; being mascot for Montmorency Football Club in 1949, the smell of eucalyptus in the rooms, the thrill of running onto the ground with the players and around the oval; my adults only fifth birthday in front of a blazing fire in the ladies’ lounge, table set with a feast, my father opening champagne and then pouring a small green drink after the meal (not for me, crème de menthe); riding Dressie in the yard with my father and later at the Royal Melbourne Show; collecting eggs in the old stables which housed a coop for chickens and ducks: playing with Billie Bush at Yallambie, his birthday party, finding peanuts in the bear’s mouth on the bear skin rug, riding his sled down the slope behind Yallambie, a special air about Yallambie Homestead and its stairs and polished banister; Laddie fighting a ferocious dog called a Queensland Blue Heeler; Nan teaching Laddie to sit up, Nan teaching Cockie, the galah, to speak, Phillip the magpie who resided on the Nan’s bed stead, Nan’s canaries, Nan keeping a fishing line in the river; my father’s fascination with animals and all that we had at the hotel—pony, retired racehorse (Tony), draught horse, two or three cows (one named Daisy after my mother), chickens (“chooks”), ducks — riding around Lower Plenty with Mick in his two wheeled jinker pulled by Tony and visiting the black smith.”

An idyllic childhood: young John Irwin inside the beer garden at the Plenty Bridge Hotel.
An idyllic childhood: young John Irwin inside the beer garden at the Plenty Bridge Hotel. Source: John Irwin Family Collection

Driving me crazy

In Douglas Adams “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy”, the hitch hiking alien names himself after a motor car, believing it to be a safely inconspicuous nom de plume while visiting planet Earth after erroneously misidentifying the dominant life form of our world. Look at any Melbourne road at peak hour these days and you might forgive the alien his misconception. In the words of a recently defunct Federal Treasurer, “poor people don’t drive cars” but if that were true, then judging by the traffic on Greensborough Rd these days, we Melbournians must be an entirely wealthy lot.

The Lower Plenty Rd Bridge and the Plenty Bridge Hotel, photographed by Mark Daniel, 1900, SLV.
The Lower Plenty Rd Bridge and the Plenty Bridge Hotel, photographed by Mark Daniel, 1900, SLV.

Last November in the process of writing about the one-time site of the Plenty Bridge Hotel, formerly located across the river from Yallambie at Lower Plenty and removed at the end of the 1950s, I made the rather farfetched yet hopeful suggestion that the old hotel might be reconstructed on vacant ground adjacent to a new housing development at Edward Willis Court.

Bicycle riders at the Plenty Bridge Hotel, c1900-1910, SLV.
Bicycle riders at the Plenty Bridge Hotel, c1900-1910, SLV.

Ten months on and there is activity all aplenty down on the Plenty, but not the sort I necessarily envisaged when writing that post. You see, what’s being built over at the Lower Plenty site right now is no piece of resurrected local history but a car park. As we all know, the world needs more car parks. We need them like music needs more cow bells.

giphy

When I saw the tractors trundle out onto the former location of the Plenty Bridge Hotel at the start of last month, I initially deluded myself that this might be the harbinger of better things to come.

Snakes alive at Lower Plenty, September, 2015.
Snakes alive at Lower Plenty, September, 2015.

Across the road, on the corner of Para and Main Roads, a newly installed public sculpture hinted at community pride while a notice in one shop window asked for public help developing a display describing Lower Plenty history.

Poster in shop window at Lower Plenty, September, 2015.
Poster in shop window at Lower Plenty, September, 2015.

Plans are even afoot to redevelop the former Ampol service station site as a franchise store of a certain large, German supermarket chain. An exercise in urban renewal I guess. So when I need a litre of milk in the future it will be handy to know that I’ll also be able to pick up a pair of snow shoes locally while I’m at it, just perfect for the next time we have a blizzard.

So it came as a bit of a shock to watch the tractors roll right across the site of the Plenty Bridge Hotel, grading its story into the dust once and for all time. The process even involved the destruction of the last Lombardy poplar on the site, a tree that is visible in nearly every old picture of the Plenty Bridge Hotel and the survival of which orienteered the casual passerby with an eye for history to the original location of the building.

Golf Club Hotel, aka, the Plenty Bridge Hotel, looking south west, c1950
Golf Club Hotel, aka, the Plenty Bridge Hotel, looking south west, c1950
Site of former Plenty Bridge Hotel, looking south west, November, 2014
Site of former Plenty Bridge Hotel, looking south west, November, 2014
Site of former Plenty Bridge Hotel, looking south west with stump of Lombardy Poplar visible at center, August, 2015.
Site of former Plenty Bridge Hotel, looking south west with stump of Lombardy Poplar visible at center, August, 2015.

Possibly the new car park will be a very nice car park, as car parks go. Adams’ hitchhiker might even feel at home. It  appears that the Lower Plenty Hotel applied for planning approval to develop the area as a lower level car park for their hotel patrons as early as October, 2010. This was authorised by Banyule Council in May the following year with amendments in July, 2012. By 2015 work had not commenced on the project and Council refused to allow an extension to the permit. However this was over ruled on appeal at VCAT with work finally commencing about two months ago. Responding to my enquiry, an officer at the Department of Planning at Banyule Council informed me that the status of the Lombardy poplar as an “environmental weed” meant that it would not have been protected by the ”Significant Landscape and Environmental Significance Overlay controls which affect the site”, whatever that statement might mean. The poplar was on the periphery of the development and not intrusive. Its removal was unnecessary and however it’s dressed up, from the perspective of historical significance, it strikes me as misguided.

Car park under construction at Lower Plenty Hotel, September, 2015.
Car park under construction at Lower Plenty Hotel, September, 2015.

Next month I note that, as a part of the Royal Historical Society History Week, a representative from Banyule Council is booked to lecture at the Watsonia Public Library about the importance of the Significant Trees and Vegetation Register. Yes, there really is a register and a number of the trees at Yallambie within both public space and on private land are on it. What this actually means in practice I would be interested to learn. At Yallambie in the last few years we have seen a century old Hoop Pine and similarly aged Irish Strawberry removed from private gardens. Add these to the disappearance of the Pre-phylloxera grape vine in Yallambie Park and the demise of assorted Italian Cypresses and the old stand of English elms and it is easy to see a pattern developing.

The Yallambie Hoop Pine referred to above was destroyed ostensibly because of the potential damage its root system might do to the drive way of the private home it flanked, although the needs of cars in this city are nothing new. The recent state election was largely fought as a referendum between the freeway and public transport lobbies but it is a debate that has been going on much longer than that. The very first “self-propelled” vehicles of the 19th century were required to be led by a pedestrian waving a red flag or carrying a lantern to warn bystanders of the vehicle’s approach. The F18 Freeway, the so called missing link in Melbourne’s road network and designed to connect traffic on the Western Ring Rd with the Eastern Freeway, is still mentioned every time traffic on Greensborough Rd grinds to a standstill. That battle was fought in the 1970s and won by the anti-freeway lobby. Today it is discussed in the terms of a tunnel under Banyule.

Cars might be a fact of life but what would aliens really think if they happened to drop by and observed the precedence we give to them? In 1960, Lucerne Farm, the former home of Thomas Wills at the confluence of the Darebin Creek and Yarra River, was demolished to make space for a car park for the La Trobe Golf Club. Thomas Wills had been the first owner of the land that became Yallambie. He purchased it in 1836 from the Crown (nobody asked the Wurundjeri what they thought of this) and held onto it for only a few months before selling it to Thomas Walker at a profit. He would have done well in the real estate trade of the 21st century.

Lucerne Farm, the National Trust classified, former Alphington home of Thomas Wills, photographed by Colin Caldwell before demolition c1960, SLV.
Lucerne Farm, the National Trust classified, former Alphington home of Thomas Wills, photographed by Colin Caldwell before demolition c1960, SLV.

More recently, on the corner of Yallambie and Lower Plenty Roads, an assembly hall was built by an evangelical church. Even before the building was finished a car park went in across the site, obliterating in the process the remnant features of a dam which had survived there from the farming era up to that point. An old weeping willow was fortunately retained and it survives on the corner to this day, despite having earlier lost approximately one half of its canopy when Lower Plenty Rd was widened 20 years ago.

Will Wragge pictured alongside one of several tanks (dams) at Yallambie at the start of the 20th century, (Bush collection). In 2013 a dam similar to this on the corner of Lower Plenty and Bannockburn Roads, Viewbank was asphalted as a carpark, an old willow similar to the tree in this picture remaining to this day to mark the spot.
Will Wragge pictured alongside one of several tanks (dams) at Yallambie at the start of the 20th century, (Bush collection). In 2013 a dam similar to this on the corner of Lower Plenty and Bannockburn Roads, Viewbank was asphalted as a carpark, an old willow similar to the tree in this picture remaining to this day to mark the spot.

So where do cars fit in with life in a capital city of the 21st century living under the looming threat of Peak Oil? Many people are defined by their cars and cannot envisage a life characterised without them. I’m fast approaching that time in life when a man is supposed to go out and purchase a Harley Davidson in vain glorious pursuit of youth, but when our son recently asked which vehicle would I replace our 16 year old Japanese car with if I had the choice, I replied, “A Morris Minor.” I think he was hoping I would say a Lamborghini.

Motor car in the farm yard at Yallambie, c1930.
Not a Lamborghini in the farm yard at Yallambie, c1930.

The Morris or so called “Noddy” car was the first car I ever owned and came with me when I moved to Yallambie. It sat out in the open in front of Thomas Wragge’s old brick garage for years, gradually rusting into venerable retirement. I let it go eventually, fearful that if I left it there much longer it would eventually become a roost for chickens. Observing it leave Yallambie for the last time on the back of a trailer was like watching the days of my youth driving off out of my life. The inclination to one day own such a car again proves I’m really not so different to the next man.

Or visiting alien.

The Noddy car leaving Yallambie for the last time.
The Noddy car leaving Yallambie for the last time.

A river runs through it

What do you think you would catch if you threw a fishing line into the Plenty River at Yallambie? A Redfin perhaps? The “Salmon of Doubt”? An old boot?

I was walking in Yallambie Park the other day below Tarcoola Drive and heard movements on the river bank below me. A few Yallambie likely lads and their girlfriends were down by the riverside with fishing gear and lines trailing into the water. The esky they had brought along with them probably contained little in the way of a catch, but at a guess, lots in the way of lager, the obligatory essential for a good day’s fishing anywhere.

Although the sight of Yallambie anglers is about as uncommon these days as a monster in Loch Ness, a few die hard fishermen are still seen now and then elsewhere along the river. There were plenty of fish in the Plenty once upon a time, enough even for an angling club to form upstream from Yallambie at Greensborough in 1926.

Greensborough and District Angling Club rooms at 161 Para Rd (formerly Rattray Rd), Greensborough
Greensborough and District Angling Club rooms at 161 Para Rd (formerly Rattray Rd), Greensborough

Under the name of the “Greensborough Angling Club”, it met initially at the Greensborough Masonic Hall in Ester St before building premises on the west bank of the Plenty at 161 Para Rd, (then Rattray Rd). The club is still active today and is one of Victoria’s oldest angling clubs, although it’s doubtful whether they fish the River competitively at the back of the club house much anymore. Easier I would say to put in an order at the local fried fish and chip shop.

Releasing fish into the Plenty River between the wars
Releasing fish into the Plenty River between the wars

Frank Wright, a grandson of Thomas Wragge, the landholder of Yallambie in the second half of the 19th century, wrote of his earliest memories and of fishing on the Plenty River in a paper entitled “Recollections of the Plenty River”, extracts of which were quoted by Winty Calder in “Classing the Wool and Counting the Bales”.

The Plenty water, from my earliest days, was always said to be exceedingly pure, and in the 1920s I heard a professor of engineering say that Yan Yean water was so pure that, without treatment, it could be used indefinitely as boiler-feed water.

I have some slight recollections of the Plenty at Yallambie in the very early 1900s, but my main experiences there were during the years after 1910 when the unoccupied property became, to all intents and purposes, my happy hunting ground… we might walk from and return to Heidelberg for a day’s fishing, or go by train to Greensborough, walk and fish our way to Yallambie and then walk back to Heidelberg; or sometimes my father would pile three or four of us boys and our camping gear into the family buggy and leave us to our own devices on the banks of the river for a week or two at a time. The old (Yallambie) orchard provided us with fruit, the creek with fish, and we (learnt) to look after ourselves. Thus we got to know the river well, at least the length of it between Greensborough and the Lower Plenty Bridge.

It never occurred to us not to drink the water straight out of the river. It was crystal clear, an always flowing stream of pools and little rapids. Trees and bush lined its banks, and here and there an old fallen tree provided a bridge crossing. In other places crossings were easily made.

Possums and platypus were plentiful. Often we would see six or ten platypus in a day. We used to catch blackfish and mountain trout, and once we caught a rare native fish called a marbled trout. It was like a rather narrow 10-inch flathead in shape, with a mottled grey-black colouring. Eels and small freshwater lobsters also came our way.

Looking back, it is now realized, our hunting days at Yallambie bracketed the time that was the beginning of the end for these native fish. I don’t remember which we caught first, an English perch or a Murray cod; anyway, we caught both. Someone had put them in the Yarra and they had made their way up the Plenty, to add to our fun. But these two fish were, I believe, destroyers of the little blackfish and mountain trout.

My visits to the Plenty at Yallambie ceased with World War I.

Fishing has always been a hugely popular past time in Australia. My own father was a keen freshwater river fisherman in the years that followed that other World War. He and his old army mates, all ex POWs, kept a shack after 1945 on the Mitta Mitta River where they would disappear away from their families at irregular intervals to yarn about the “one that got away”. Some sort of wish granting, talking fish I have no doubt.

The writer's father (right) and a mate with a catch of river trout in the 1950s
The writer’s father, (right) and a mate with a catch of river trout after the war, discussing the size of “the one that got away”. He was known as “Titch” in the army, a nickname derived from his stature, not his fishing ability.

I remember going there years later as a child, around about the time that to quote my father, the building of the Dartmouth Dam “wrecked the Mitta for fly fishing”. There was a large drawing of a fish in outline on a wall of the shack which, as my father explained, was the outline of a trout which legend had it had been reeled in hook, line and sinker by my godfather, Uncle John. The men had traced the fish onto the wall to immortalize it before it went into the pan. “But take with a grain of salt, or at least a slice of lemon, that drawing and anything else your Uncle John tells you of his Beast from 20,000 Fathoms. Your Uncle John was a lousy fisherman. If you ask me, I reckon it was more like a fish finger.”

The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view XI by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. View of garden with cypress and fence.
The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view XI by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. View of garden with cypress and fence prior to the building of Yan Yean. Viewing platform on stilts above the high water mark of the Plenty River.

Like the later building of the Dartmouth, when a catching reservoir was built in the 1850s on the upper reaches of the Plenty River at Yan Yean, the river’s natural flow was forevermore diminished downstream. Mills closed for lack of water and farming practices had to be modified up and down the Plenty valley. The colonial government paid financial compensation to the mill owners whose business literally “dried up” overnight, causing some wags at the time to suggest that there was more money to made in building mills to claim the compensation than in actual mill operation. Oral history would suggest that in the early days of settlement a water driven, mill wheel was located at Yallambie. Indeed, Ethel Temby claimed to have seen the still visible foundations of this feature in the 1960s but locating the mill site within Yallambie Park today can only be described as a problematic exercise at best, although a cut through the river bank for watering cattle and old billabong depressions are still apparent.

Anderson's Mill on the Plenty was one of a number of mills that suffered as a result of the damming of the Plenty River. (SLV)
Anderson’s Mill on the Plenty was one of a number of mills that suffered as a result of the damming of the Plenty River. (SLV)

Occasional floods on the Plenty River at Yallambie are still possible and at their highest point can cut right across the plain of the horseshoe bend in the vicinity of the billabong depressions.

Plenty River in flood looking upstream towards the site of the old pump house (removed early 1980s) which had earlier replaced the windmill visible here.
Plenty River in flood looking upstream towards the site of the old pump house (removed early 1980s) which had earlier replaced the windmill visible here.

A Wragge photograph from the 1890s shows the river in flood and in 1996, a century later, another flood was captured in this video clip:

There is no doubt that Yan Yean was a visionary engineering project for an infant colony when it opened in 1857. Certainly Yan Yean water was an improvement on the old system of collecting water from the Yarra, upstream from the settlement, and carting it around the town in barrels.

Before the opening of the Yan Yean Reservoir on the Plenty River in 1857, Melbourne's water needs were met by primitive means
Before the opening of the Yan Yean Reservoir on the Plenty River in 1857, Melbourne’s water needs were met by primitive means

Visiting Australia in 1871, the English novelist Anthony Trollope, wrote of Melbourne’s water supply and stated, perhaps with some satire, that it “is supposed to be the most perfect water supply ever produced for the use of man. Ancient Rome and modern New York have been less blessed in this respect than is Melbourne with its Yan Yean. I do believe that the supply is almost as inexhaustible as it is described to be. But the method of bringing it into the city is not as yet by any means perfect… I will also add that the Yan Yean water is not pleasant to drink — a matter of comparatively small consideration in a town in which brandy is so plentiful.”

Anthony Trollope around the time of his visits to Australia, c1870s
Anthony Trollope around the time of his visits to Australia, c1870s

I’ve heard tell that ultra-pure water (literally H²O) produced for use in the medical industry, has the texture of water without the taste of water, and in fact it can be quite dangerous to drink in quantity. Sounds weird doesn’t it? Generally, it is the mineral content in water that gives water the taste we assume it doesn’t have. The use of lead piping in early Melbourne, used to deliver water around the city streets, was probably one reason for Trollope’s reservations about the quality. Consumers at the time were even advised to run their taps to waste for a few minutes each morning in an attempt to lessen the dangers associated with lead piping.

Public warning which appeared on the reverse side of Melbourne water supply rate notices in the early 1860s
Public warning which appeared on the reverse side of Melbourne water supply rate notices in the early 1860s

The “inexhaustible” supply described by Trollope all too soon also proved to be inadequate. Further diversions of streams into the Yan Yean system occurred and the 20th century saw the building of a series of new dams on many of the main rivers within casting distance of Melbourne. The last one was built on the Thomson River in west Gippsland within the memory of many people. When completed in 1983, the Thomson Reservoir was more than four times the capacity of Melbourne’s next largest reservoir and was supposed to drought proof Melbourne for all time.  Like Yan Yean and the other reservoirs, it was never going to be enough of course. Australia is a dry country. So dry in fact that here in Victoria a few years ago, with the much vaunted Thomson standing almost empty, the politicians went all to water in the face of an ongoing drought and in a robbing “Peter to pay Paul” exercise, built a pipe line to bring water from the Goulburn Valley across the divide to Melbourne. And if that was not enough, at the same time they ordered the building of a massive desalination plant on the Bass Coast near Wonthaggi.

A desalination plant was always going to be a dumb idea and the fact that regular rainfall since its opening has saved the desalination plant (or the pipe line for that matter) from being used is scarcely the point. When you have to start manufacturing water it’s clear to me that you have a population that is living beyond the ecological limits of the environment.

As Melbourne continues to expand into an ever enlarging megatropolis, it is our environment that always pays the price. The latest “Sustainable Cities Index”, a study that rates 50 of the world’s most important cities from 31 countries, taking into account social, economic and environmental considerations, ranks Melbourne 17th in environmental considerations. The same study however ranks Melbourne fifth for profitability and 8th in social factors. I can see a trend developing, can’t you?

In “Classing the Wool and Counting the Bales”, Winty Calder further described some of the environmental stresses that beleaguered the Plenty River at Yallambie in the second half of the 20th century:

Bill Bush would remember platypus in the Plenty River during the 1950s, but both the river and its flood plain were degraded as residential development proceeded. Frank Wright continued returning to Yallambie until the 1970s, by which time his early memories of the property were in sharp contrast to current reality. It had become “a jumble of new roads and dwellings, and the formerly lovely Plenty River (was) a yellow mess of pollution and dumped rubbish.” (Letter from Frank Wright to Olive Shann.) He would never forget that:

“about 1970 or ’71, I… looked sadly at the once pure and beautiful Plenty. The water was a turbid orange colour from the stirred up clay. Raw bulldozed rubble edged the waterway in places. Tin cans, old tyres and other dumpers’ rubbish littered the scene. No sewerage drains served the many dwellings along the banks. I don’t want to see the Plenty again.” (Frank Wright, “Recollections of the Plenty River”).

Soon after Frank’s last visit to that river, the water quality testing programme of the Melbourne and Metropolitan Board of Works confirmed his fears that the Plenty was so polluted it could no longer support aquatic life in its lower reaches. However, by then, a main sewer traversed the whole length of the river with branch sewers connected to it at various points.

Around the time Frank Wright wrote his epilogue of the Plenty River, a report from the Melbourne and Metropolitan Board of Works put forward the notion that by 1990 the then polluted river systems of Melbourne would be mended. In fact it claimed that the Yarra, Melbourne’s perennial “upside down river”, would be flowing by then like some sort of Perrier at Dights Falls in Collingwood. Or words to that effect.

Stereoview of children swimming in the Darebin Creek at Ivanhoe
Stereoview of children swimming in the Darebin Creek at Ivanhoe

It seems hard to believe now, but the Yarra River and its tributaries at Heidelberg, the Plenty River and Darebin Creek all had their swimming holes at one time, some with suburban beaches and pools, dug out surrounds and semi concreted sides rather like sea baths — that was before river pollution made them unfit or at least unfashionable for use.

Swimming Pool in the Plenty River at Greensborough, c1952
Swimming Pool in the Plenty River at Greensborough, c1952

The remnants of a swimming pool on the Plenty River at Greensborough, a little upstream from Yallambie, are still visible and can be found just below the Main Road Bridge. The Greensborough pool was built as a “Susso” project in the Great Depression at a cost of £200 and was of cement and blue stone construction. It was opened in 1937 by the Mayor of Heidelberg, Councilor Robert Reid with demonstrations of swimming by leading swimmers of the day. It now makes a convenient platform for occasional anglers who would probably balk at the idea of getting their feet wet in the sometimes murky water.

Fishermen casting into the former swimming pool on the Plenty River at Greensborough, February, 2015
Fishermen casting into the former swimming pool on the Plenty River at Greensborough, February, 2015

A very good swimming beach of sand at Sills Bend in Heidelberg was still being risked by hardy souls when I was a boy but reduced and changing river flows have  affected stream form and that beach consists now mainly of silt and clay when last I visited. I believe there was formerly a camping spot used by the Scouts located just down river from Sills Bend at Bulleen near what is believed to be today one of the most polluted ground locations in Heidelberg — namely the old gasometers site. Camping there was probably never a very good idea. Swimming in the Yarra these days is limited largely to around Warrandyte and to further upstream.

Against all odds and in the face of continued suburban expansion, by the 1990s Melbourne’s rivers were indeed considerably cleaner than from the time when Frank Wright wrote about the Plenty. Still not quite the promised Perrier but things had improved by 1997 to the extent that the local newspaper was able to report that platypus were once again occupying the Plenty River at Yallambie, in the vicinity of the Lower Plenty Rd Bridge. The following year a fishing event was organized for the river codenamed “Catch a Carp Day”. It was intended to reduce the numbers of these introduced European fish in the Plenty River, the correct assumption being that the species was in competition with the native aquatic wildlife.

"Catch a Carp Day" fishing event on the Plenty River at Yallambie, October, 1998
“Catch a Carp Day” fishing event on the Plenty River at Yallambie, October, 1998

In January this year it was reported that a 20 year old platypus was found in the Plenty River during a spring survey in 2014 and that, “a breeding population exists at least as far downstream as the mouth of the Plenty River, about 15 kilometres from downtown Melbourne”. (The iconic Platypus is a peculiar animal. A semiaquatic, egg laying, mammal it is the sole living representative of the family Ornithorhynchidae, in the genus Ornithorhynchus (literally bird billed). When stuffed examples were sent for study from Australia to Britain at the end of the 18th century, outraged scholars believed they were the victims of an attempted elaborate antipodean hoax. They infamously tried to remove the “stitching” on the platypus bill that they were sure had been employed in the forgery and the marks of the scissors can still be seen on the specimen on display today in the British Museum of Natural History.)

First published illustration of a Platypus: George Shaw, The Naturalist's Miscellany, 1799
First published illustration of a Platypus: George Shaw, The Naturalist’s Miscellany, 1799

In the 19th century it was not unknown for platypus pelts  and the furs of other rare native species to be turned into rugs and coats like some sort of Australian “One Hundred and One Dalmatians”. A pity nobody stripped their crinoline for PeTA in the 19th century. The Platypus is of course a protected species these days but it remains at risk from pollutants in rivers and the practice of illegal netting. A local newspaper story last month warned about illegal fishing practices and mentioned that two platypuses had recently been found dead in the Yarra River near Laughing Waters Rd, Eltham.

Platypus pelt rug from Alstonville, NSW, (Power House Museum) and Thylacine skin buggy rug from Upper Blessington area, Tasmania, (Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery)
Platypus pelt rug from Alstonville, NSW, (Power House Museum) and Thylacine skin buggy rug from Upper Blessington area, Tasmania, (Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery)

March 1st, is designated “Clean Up Australia Day” 2015, a day when many socially conscious Australians are getting out into the community to clean up the environment. There is a group meeting today in Yallambie Park where no doubt much good work will be done along the environs of the Plenty River, clearing the rubbish washed into the river by overnight rain. “Clean Up Australia Day” is a great Australian idea, the concept of which has spread to nations all around the world, but it is just one day of the 365¼ days in a year.

People love water features near their homes, be they bayside, a natural stream running through parkland, or artificial lakes in the manner of Yallambie’s, “Cascades” and “Streeton Views” housing estates.  However, while storm water continues to empty into the suburban river system, every poisonous cigarette butt dropped from a car window, every oil spill that goes onto the road and the proceeds of every one of man’s best friends who ever uses a Ned Flander’s nature strip as a make shift dunny, all of it eventually ends up in one of our rivers or lake features. From there it makes its inexorable way to the Bay and thence to the oceans. After the oceans though there’s no where else to go on this “Pale Blue Dot”. That is the “Wall-e” reality of our world.

Made in Japan and inspired by the Australian platypus, perhaps. Duck bill designer pet muzzles for the Japanese pet owner who has everything.
Made in Japan and inspired by the Australian platypus, perhaps. Duck bill designer pet muzzles for the Japanese pet owner who has everything.

Dear diary

Recounting the past can be a difficult exercise if we rely entirely on the memory carrying capacity of the cauliflower that sits between our ears. Two decades ago, at a time almost before the internet, I was advised most earnestly to start keeping a written diary at Yallambie. “It would make a good history,” was the assertion. I promised to do so but of course, in the years that followed, I never did. Looking back, it seems now like the passage of time has smothered the old cauliflower with something like melted cheese.

At some future date, should historians ever feel the need to consider the early years of the 21st century, the transient nature of today’s digital age may leave their vision blurred. Not so the written word.

In 2002 an old diary was found under the floorboards of Yallambie Homestead, bearing the title, “Yallambie Day Book, 1866”. That date predated the time of the building of the present Homestead but came from a time when Thomas Wragge was already active at the Bakewell property and probably sub leasing it to John Ashton. Winty Calder, author of the Wragge family history, “Classing the Wool and Counting the Bales”, examined the diary in detail and discovered the book had commenced its life as a farm diary on the last day of 1866 but that after 1882 it had been used by another hand to record veterinary practices. The later hand turned out to be that of Henry Wragge, the brother of Thomas and of whom not much had been previously recorded.

Yallambie Homestead from the north west. Jessie Wragge on the left with her sisters, Alice and Annie on the right. This photograph is reproduced in Garden, "Heidelberg: the Land and its People, 1838-1900". The man is erroneously indicated there to be Thomas Wragge. Calder "Finding Uncle Harry" suggests the man was in fact, Henry Wragge.
Yallambie Homestead from the north west. Jessie Wragge on the left with her sisters, Alice and Annie on the right. This photograph is reproduced in Garden, “Heidelberg: the Land and its People, 1838-1900”. The man is erroneously indicated there to be Thomas Wragge. Calder “Finding Uncle Harry” suggests the man was in fact, Henry Wragge.

Henry Wragge, MRCVS, worked as a veterinary surgeon in Melbourne and Castlemaine and may have seen service in the Crimean War. He served on the first three boards of the Veterinary Surgeons Board of Victoria. He diagnosed pleuropneumonia in Victoria in 1858 and advised destruction of the affected herd, advice that was subsequently ignored by the government of the Colony of Victoria. The disease was not eradicated until 1970.

Henry died at Yallambie in 1898 but it was the finding of his written diary that allowed his history to become more widely understood. Calder published Henry’s story in her book “Finding Uncle Harry”, (Winty Calder, Jimaringle Publications, 2004).

Two men and dogs on the grass tennis court at Yallambie in the 1890s. The man on the left was identified in Calder, "Finding Uncle Harry" as probably Henry Wragge wearing his Victorian Volunteer Light Horse cap.
Two men and dogs on the grass tennis court at Yallambie in the 1890s. The man on the left was identified in Calder, “Finding Uncle Harry” as probably Henry Wragge wearing his Victorian Volunteer Light Horse cap.

The Victoria Branch of the Australian Garden History Society maintains an ongoing interest in the Yallambie Homestead area and runs occasional, much appreciated working bees in the Homestead garden. Their last visit was November, 2014 when about a dozen Society members spent a day working around the garden. A few weeks later, one of those members contacted me and said that although she had not realized it during the working bee, she recalled that she had been a visitor at the Homestead on an earlier occasion. That was in the 1970s, during ownership of the property by the Temby family. She had forgotten much of that childhood visit, including the location of the house, but remembered it when she saw an account of Yallambie written by Ethel Temby and kept in the files of the Heidelberg Historical Society.

Ethel and her husband Alan Temby came from Eaglemont to live at Yallambie Homestead in 1961, before the development of the surrounding suburb of Yallambie and at a time when the district still retained a largely rural character. The 6 Temby children enjoyed an idyllic life at the farm. Their horses grazed in Yallambie Park, asparagus gone to seed was cut on the river flat and an annual crop was gathered in from the old fruit trees in the orchard. Bee boxes were kept in the Homestead garden and in the park and the children took a keen interest in the native wildlife that lived in the surrounding area. A cockatoo was kept in the kitchen and was known to regularly perch on the ceiling beam from where it would chat to the family. Years later Ethel told of how she had once seen a tiger snake slide underneath the back kitchen door but the direction it was going was from the inside going out. On questioning, her sons admitted that they had trapped the snake outside the house weeks before and brought it inside to keep as a pet. It had escaped and been loose about the house for days. They hadn’t liked to mention this to their mother for fear of upsetting her.

Yallambie Homestead from the south, September, 1978
Yallambie Homestead from the south, September, 1978

Ethel loved the Homestead’s aged garden which had remained largely unchanged since the 19th century. Her contribution was to plant a forest of natives, mainly north of the house, her method being to scratch the surface of the old stable yard, cover it with a copy of The Age newspaper and plant a seedling into it.

The old pump house at Yallambie. From a Christmas card by Harry Ferne who lived in the gardener's cottage associated with this building in the 1970s.
The old pump house at Yallambie. From a Christmas card by Harry Ferne who lived in the gardener’s cottage associated with this building in the 1970s.

It was in or about 1980 that I saw Yallambie on the one occasion in my teens. A school mate and I were roaming far afield on bicycles and rode through Yallambie Park. We stopped to explore the old abandoned and deserted Homestead pump house that was at that time still standing on the river bank. At least my friend did. Like a goody two shoes, I stayed with the bikes and told him officiously he was trespassing while he climbed about inside, eventually to wave at me from a window on the upper level. While I waited I looked up at the elderly Homestead on the ridge and wondered who could possibly live there. Mainly the ghosts I thought.

The old pump house burned down soon after this. I hope my friend didn’t leave the gas on.

In 1984 Ethel Temby, by then a widow, sold the Homestead at public auction. I can remember my late father at the time critically remarking on the run down nature of the property. For 30 years an inspector for the Melbourne and Metropolitan Board of Works, my father seemed to know a bit about the house. The antiquated water system at the Homestead was the bane of his working life. Although it had been connected to the reticulated water system in the street, this was only turned on when the levels in the Homestead’s tanks dropped, which was usually at the time of highest summer demand. The ensuing decrease in water pressure was a problem for the immediate neighbourhood, or at least for the water officer who controlled it.

Ethel moved to Phillip Island after leaving Yallambie. Two of her sons remained in Tarcoola Drive for a while, building mud brick houses near the Homestead that incorporated materials salvaged from the demolished Bakewell era stables. Ethel is remembered separately as a passionate conservationist and an advocate for social justice, especially in regard to the deinstitutionalization of the intellectually disabled. The Ethel Temby Research Grant is a study scholarship for health care workers, named in her honour. Ethel died aged 97 in 2012. Her account of Yallambie, written around the time of her departure in 1984, remains as a glimpse into the Temby family history of Yallambie.

A V Jennings real estate brochure from the sale of Yallambie Homestead, c1961
A V Jennings real estate brochure from the sale of Yallambie Homestead, c1961

YALLAMBIE HOMESTEAD
(The Temby family’s history at Yallambie, as recorded by the late Ethel Temby MBE, 1914-2012).
A house that is of interest only because of its architecture or its age is only a building – cold, impersonal, of no general appeal. A garden planned for display may please the eye as window-boxes do, but may yet attract no human response.

Yallambie was built as a home for Mr. & Mrs. Thomas Wragge and their three daughters (sic) close to 110 years ago. Except for three of those years it has always been a family home. It passed to one of the Wragge daughters and her husband and then to a grand-daughter and her husband, Mr. & Mrs. Cliff Bush. The Bush’s two children grew up there but as suburbia drew closer and closer the family sold the remaining 165 acres of the farm to the developer A. V. Jennings. For three years the house was empty and the garden suffered the looting that is often the fate of unattended places.

Photograph of "Yallambee" from south east by John T Collins, State Library of Victoria
Photograph of “Yallambee” from south east by John T Collins, State Library of Victoria

Jennings’ survey of the property cut through the house garden and pegs close to the verandah indicated that had they not found a buyer for the house it would have been demolished. In 1961 the homestead with 2 acres was put up for auction but without success. Some months later it was bought by Ethel and Alan Temby the present owners who were looking for a larger place for their family of six.
In the 20 years that the Tembys have been at Yallambie the area surrounding the homestead and the conditions of life at the house have seen remarkable change. Tarcoola Drive in front of Yallambie Homestead cuts through the old house paddock. Lambruk Court runs across the site of the stockyards and loading ramp. Just south west of the present house fence someone is living on the filled-in dam, once prolific with yabbies until poachers dragged it with nets. Jennings leased the paddocks to a cattle owner. There were water troughs in every paddock, no other houses were in sight and to reach the road (Lower Plenty road as it used to go across the old bridge), the family opened and shut five sets of farm gates.
18 years ago there was a sale of cattle at the yards and it is only 16 years since a pet sheep was torn to ribbons by a pack of feral dogs. There were three dogs often seen late at night on the slopes between the road and the house. The farm tracks were sometimes impassable in wet weather and the record long time to drive the 600 hundred yards from the road was 45 minutes of zigzagging over the grass.
From time to time the Tembys reared orphaned animals, and a kangaroo which seemed to like grazing with the horses would pound down the hill to the house when called. A wombat left her mark on a back door when she tried to get into the kitchen. The door still has its protective sheet of metal.

Folding brochure from land auction during subdivision of the Yallambie estate
Folding brochure from land auction during subdivision of the Yallambie estate
Folding brochure reversed
Folding brochure reversed

Before Jennings developed the surrounding area (10 years after purchase), the telephone was a private one which left the public line and crossed the river at the foot of Longs Road. The private line was low, supported on saplings and thin poles and in places crossed thickets of hawthorns. It frequently broke, mostly between the poles, so drums and boxes had to be perilously mounted while the wires were twisted together again.
Even the climate has changed with the coming of the houses. The combined warmth of so many dwellings has reduced the severity of the frosts. The hills no longer look nor feel like ski slopes. No tree now still has frost 50 feet from the ground at 11 a.m.
All this may seem incredible such a short time ago and only 9 miles from the G.P.O. but the Yallambie district remained rural long after most land surrounding Melbourne had long been developed. Today Yallambie (district, not Homestead) is in many ways like a country town and has something of the same sense of community. It is partly isolated by the Plenty River and the Watsonia army camp, and has only three access points – either end of Yallambie road and the north end of Tarcoola Drive. Many local residents refer to the Homestead as “the farm”.

Yallambie Homestead from the south east, September, 1978
Yallambie Homestead from the south east, September, 1978

The first occupants of the land by the Plenty were a tribe of Aborigines who had a permanent camp by a long deep pool on the river – it always had water and fish even in the worst droughts. The name Yallambie is an approximation of the Aboriginal word meaning place of shade, or shelter.
The first white settlers were two brothers, Robert and John Bakewell, who first held the land on lease from the New South Wales government. Very soon after, in 1840, they bought 604 acres.
The land is sharply divided into river flats and higher areas where the main stands of timber were of stringy bark. The higher land is banded with clay and mud-stone, but the river flats are rich alluvial soil, subject now to rare flooding. Before Yan Yean dam was built the floods were much more frequent. In those days the river earned its name and a timber mill operated by a water-wheel was built on the river across the wide flat below the homestead. In the 1960s its foundations were still visible when the river was low.

Plenty River in flood looking upstream towards the site of the old pump house (removed early 1980s) which had earlier replaced the windmill visible here.
Plenty River in flood looking upstream towards the site of the old pump house (removed early 1980s) which had earlier replaced the windmill visible here.

The flat was established as a market garden and orchard and grew a great variety of vegetables. One of the former row of fig trees remains, (the rest were bulldozed by the Council several years ago), there are two walnuts and several other remnants of the orchard. The Bakewells grew grapes for the Melbourne market. These with other fruit and vegetables were taken by dray along Heidelberg Road. Heidelberg Road is the oldest road in the State and then had a toll where it crossed Darebin Creek. It is not known whether the Bakewells (who were Quakers) paid the toll or cheated the State as so many others did by pushing through the bush to a place up stream where the creek could be forded. The trip to market took two days at that time.
The Bakewells created a wooden house – a pre fab brought out from England. It may well have arrived with them. With its French windows it was particularly appropriate for the hotter climate and the lovely environment the brothers found. The Bakewells also had property near Tooradin and used to journey between the two places – a considerable undertaking then, and hour’s drive today.

Photograph of "Yallambee" from north west by John T Collins, State Library of Victoria
Photograph of “Yallambee” from north west by John T Collins, State Library of Victoria

In about 1870/71 Mr. Thomas Wragge, who had earlier bought Yallambie from the Bakewells, started building the present homestead. The original (pre fab) house appears to have been where the tennis court was later laid out.
A huge oak tree was probably an early planting by the Bakewells. The tree (from an acorn they brought?) is near the south-west corner of the present house. Perhaps as old as the tree – about 140 years – is the stump with remnants of white paint on it now almost completely in its shade. When the Tembys bought the house from A. V. Jennings the stump supported a sun-dial. By the time they took possession it had been stolen as had china finger-plates from some of the doors, and other things from the house.
But some pieces of history are hard to remove and the old hand-pump that raised water from a tank under the drive is still there, though no longer useable. Water in the underground tank comes from the roof and before the days of electricity or ice deliveries the butter would be hung in the tank to keep it cool in summer. In the 1966/67 drought the water was used to keep some of the garden alive, especially the old magnolia grandiflora. Part of the original square sectioned iron guttering that takes the roof water remains on the west roof of the house.
The tennis court must be very old because the area is now over-hung by huge branches of the big oak and of the buya pine (araucaria bidwilli). No one would have placed a tennis court under the bunya if it had been big. I drops very prickly leaves, large branches and every three years or so, huge, heavy, cones bigger than pineapples. The buya and many of the older trees were given to Mr. Wragge as seedlings by Baron Von Mueller when the famous botanist was at the Royal Botanic Gardens. There are some old fashioned garden plants and garden pests at Yallambie – some of them far too plentiful and seemingly impossible to eradicate. Ivy has killed several trees. Bindweed, some scrambling plants and onion weed are constant enemies. The ducks and bantams that used to keep down the insect pests and add life and colour to the garden have been massacred by neighbours’ cats and dogs. Four bantam hens remain. Bulbs, shrubs and trees were planted with forethought and at any time of the year there are flowers somewhere in the garden. Honesty, lilac, laurels, a big range of bulbs in flower from April to October, mock orange, flag iris, arum lilies, ixias and Sparaxis, michaelmas daisy, roses, wisteria, christmas roses, periwinkle and many others keep the succession going. There is always a patch of colour somewhere in the garden. The seemingly casual arrangement of the plantings creates corners out of the sun or shade or wind where a person can be alone to read or recuperate or talk with a friend. “A garden is a lovesome thing…”(T. E. Brown).

Photograph of Yallambie from south east by John T Collins, 1984, State Library of Victoria
Photograph of Yallambie from south east by John T Collins, 1984, State Library of Victoria

The water tower used to hold water pumped from the river. Its height gave the pressure for the water to flow around the garden and to the stock troughs. When reticulated water arrived at Yallambie it was linked to the concrete tank and was switched on in summer when the water pressure was low. The pump-house by the river was burnt by vandals about three years ago. Soon after the gardener’s cottage at the foot of the hill at Yallambie was also burnt.
Four generations of families have lived in the historic pile that is the present Yallambie Homestead. Four generations of children have slept in its bedrooms, slid down its bannisters, played in the garden, climbed the trees, ridden their ponies, watched possum and platypus, and had birthday and Christmas, coming of age, engagement and wedding parties in its big family rooms. Each family has made its own impact.
Mr. Wragge’s three daughters, in an era when young ladies painted or sewed and made music, each painted panels for the three doors in the billiard room.
In 1923 it was decided to modernise the house. Marble mantelpieces were torn out and smashed, the old staircase was removed and a big 23 step flight replaced it. In the bedrooms marble was painted to look like wood. Art nouveau did some terribly inartistic things. A brick wall with wooden doors in it enclosed the house garden. It was pulled down and replaced by post and rail, painted white. At this time the cellar was filled in with rubble and the billiard room extended, a bay window being added.
At some stage in the 1950s the National Trust looked at Yallambie, but to restore it would have cost a fortune even then. A figure given was £16000.
The present family has repapered walls that had 1920s style and colour, and painted to maximise light in a house that seemed to have been built to keep out the blistering Australian sun. Floors now do not have carpets screwed down with polished wood strips between. Mats on bare wood emphasise the spacious rooms. But Yallambie is not a showplace – just a family home with a mixed assortment of furniture to meet the family’s needs.
The architecture of the house reflects the emphasis on social class of a hundred years ago. The family rooms have curved window tops, the staff windows are square. In between are the minor curves of the butler’s pantry and the nanny’s bedroom. But the nanny’s room is the only bedroom with no fire place! Door handles are low on staff doors, higher on family doors. Perhaps this indicated an attitude to children. It kept them out of their parents’ hair but the staff could cope! And when electricity was installed there was no switch at the family end of the kitchen.
Now the mother of pearl capped bell pushers do not connect to the service board in the kitchen and if they did the woman who pressed the bell would have to run out and answer herself. Staff sitting rooms, bedrooms and bathroom lead off the kitchen – there is no light in their L shaped passage.
At one time Yallambie employed fourteen people including three gardeners who used to “make plants” in a glasshouse. The glasshouse has fallen down, but the present family still sow seeds and strike cuttings to make their plants. In 1962 there were only 4 Australian native trees or shrubs in the garden. The native ‘forest’ planting in front of the old stables has all been grown in the last 15 years. Only the northern section of the stables remain now. The dividing walls are of native rock, the back hand made bricks and the front and end the remnants of the original timber. The stables appear on a survey map of 1852. They probably date from the very early Bakewell days. Part is paved with rounded river stones.

Yallambie Homestead and Bakewell era stables, corner of Tarcoola Drive and Lambruk Court, c1970
Yallambie Homestead, water tower and Bakewell era stables, corner of Tarcoola Drive and Lambruk Court, c1970

The garden, the river flats and the house have all been used many times to serve the community. Garden and house party, sport day and literary luncheon have all been used to raise money for various purposes or just to bring people together. A Halloween party one year helped neighbouring Americans to feel at home. Churchill Fellows and high school students are among those who have gathered at Yallambie. Journalistic licence leads to imaginative detail – a recent press description of the house included “rusting tanks”, “shingle roof” and “tottering chimneys”. The roof is slate, we can find no rusting tanks, and no one need fear a tottering chimney. Some of the cement rendering has fallen onto the roof. Yallambie seems as solid a homestead now as it was a hundred years ago.
An effect of an old home and garden is to give a sense of being part of the continuity of life, of having roots in the past and prospects in the future.
The Temby’s family of 6 has grown with marriage and children to 16 so the family house built by Thomas Wragge in 1870 remains just that. It is a place all its families have loved.

Yallambie Homestead from the north west, September, 1978
Yallambie Homestead from the north west, September, 1978

 

Edward Willis, the Plenty Bridge Hotel & the Old Lower Plenty Road Bridge

Old Lower Plenty Road, Bridge and Plenty Bridge Hotel, c1900
Old Lower Plenty Road, Bridge and Plenty Bridge Hotel, c1900
Old Lower Plenty Road, Bridge and Plenty Bridge Hotel, c1957
Old Lower Plenty Road, Bridge and Plenty Bridge Hotel, c1957
Old Lower Plenty Road, Bridge and cycle path, November, 2014
Old Lower Plenty Road, Bridge and cycle path, November, 2014

So to make a liar of me the council street sweeping machine came down Tarcoola Drive again last week, the second time in as many months. Unusually, the parks and gardens department also sent a crew out to mow the fields of Yallambie Park. Maybe somebody is reading these posts after all.

On Sunday I took the hound for a walk across the newly mown common. It’s a fine place to stroll on a sunny day or to sit beside the river under one of Robert Bakewell’s trees and chill out. It’s a place to look deep down into the pools formed by the slow moving flow of the lower reaches of the Plenty River and to keep an eye out for the platypus or bunyips probably lurking there in equal measure. It’s a place to search for meaning.

Looking towards Yallambie from Lower Plenty during the farming era
Looking towards Yallambie from Lower Plenty during the farming era
Soccer ground, Yallambie Park, homestead on the hill, November 2014
Soccer ground, Yallambie Park, homestead on the hill, November 2014

My walk took me down stream to a point where pedestrians and cyclists may cross the river over the refurbished Old Lower Plenty Road Bridge to the newly made residential court, enthusiastically sign posted as “Edward Willis Court”.

The other side of the river, the “eastern bank” or Lower Plenty side was never technically a part of Yallambie although at times its history has featured in our story. Garden states that Robert Hoddle recorded in his survey field notes of June to September 1837 that the pastoralist Edward Willis was in occupation of the east bank of the Plenty River but observes that the run may have overlapped the western (the Yallambie) side of the river.

“Willis’s house, when built, was on the eastern side of the Plenty, north of the (old) Lower Plenty Road bridge. Though Hoddle’s notes are difficult to interpret, it appears that the run may have overlapped the western side of the Plenty.” (Heidelberg, The Land and Its People 1838-1900, Donald S. Garden, MUP, 1972).

Edward Willis was born on 12 September 1816 at Hornsby, Cumberland, England the son of Richard Willis and his wife Anne, née Harper. He arrived in Van Diemen’s Land with his parents in December 1823 aboard the SS Courier and until he was 21 he worked on his father’s property, Wanstead, near Campbell Town in Van Dieman’s Land. In 1837 with his brother William he crossed to Port Phillip, taking 500 ewes and several rams from his father’s pure-bred merino stud and in April the brothers took up their run on the Plenty.

Thomas Walker, 1804-86
Thomas Walker, 1804-86

In 1837, Thomas Walker, who was to become a significant player in the subsequent development of the Heidelberg district, (for a short while he owned the land that would later form Yallambie, having purchased it from Thomas Wills), wrote this contemporary description of the situation of Willis and his neighbouring squatters in the fertile and well watered country encompassing the confluence of the Yarra and Plenty River systems:

“After having spent the forenoon in the township, we proceeded on Friday afternoon on an excursion up the Yarra Yarra. We were accompanied by Mr. Edward Willis (son of Mr. A. Willis, of Wanstead, Van Dieman’s Land) to whom I was introduced by Mr. McIntyre, of Willis, McIntyre and Co., Sydney. It came to rain shortly after we left, and night also closing in, we did not get so far as we intended, but had to stop for the night at a settler’s Mr. Mollison’s, where we slept on the floor before the fire, but with cloaks and blankets enough to keep us warm, so that I never slept more soundly. I think no class of people live in a rougher way than many of the settlers do here at present. Mr. M. is erecting a hut, which will be well enough when finished, but in the mean time it is open and comfortless; no furniture has he except a bench or stool, a broken cup or two, tin panicans, a couple of knives and forks, and a plate or two. All he has to eat, is Irish salted pork, damper, and tea and sugar; and the light we had, was produced by burning rags in pieces of the fat pork. Upon the whole, I never met people living in a style more rude and rough, or with less attention to comfort, but to which they seem perfectly indifferent, aware it is only a temporary inconvenience. We there met a brother settler of Mollison’s and Willis’, named Wood (son of Captain Wood, of Snakebank, Van Dieman’s Land), and they made us heartily welcome, and afforded us a specimen of a certain class of Port Philip Squatters. The class I mean is numerous, and consists of off-shoots (sons) of Van Dieman’s Land settlers, who are sent over here with a few sheep to do for themselves, there being no room for them in Van Dieman’s Land…

On Saturday, after breakfast, we left Mr. Mollison’s, and proceeded to Mr. Willis’, passing through Mr. Wood’s station. Willis is still living in his tent, but with as much comfort as under such circumstances can be looked for. He has got a nice situation in the fork formed by the junction of the creek “Plenty” and the Yarra Yarra. We dined with him, and then returned home, seeing as much of the country as time and a rainy day would permit.” (Extract from “A Month in the Bush of Australia,” Thomas Walker, J. Cross, 1838).

Until the Plenty River was truncated by the Yan Yean Reservoir in the mid 1850s, it was quite substantial. Joseph Tice Gellibrand considered it one of the few streams in Port Phillip that justified the term “river” and named it “Plenty” in 1836 because the surrounding country had such a promising aspect. Gellibrand might have been advised to stop in the neighbourhood for he disappeared without trace early the following year while exploring the country around another river system, the Barwon. At this early date, the river had a number of names which included “Threepenny Creek,” “Willis’s” and Robert Hoddle’s name, the “Yarra Rivulet” before these were gradually discarded in favour of Gellibrand’s “Plenty River”. By 1838, all the land from Willis’s on both sides of the Plenty up to Whittlesea was occupied. Boundaries were determined by the squatters themselves, most of whom were single men who were by then living in stringy bark slab huts. The country must have appeared well watered and attractive to these first white residents.

At the end of the decade Edward Willis returned to Wanstead and his association with the Plenty River ended. He married Catherine, daughter of Captain Charles Swanston in 1840 at Hobart Town and subsequently joined his father in law in partnership in Geelong. He became a prominent citizen in that town’s development and died in England in 1895.

Edward Willis run east of the river was surveyed in 1839 by Assistant Surveyor T H Nutt following on from Hoddle’s initial inspection and was sold by the Crown. In 1841 in the Census, a wattle and daub hut was listed there with ten inhabitants. The land sale of portion 11, which covered most of the present Lower Plenty area, passed through the hands of speculators before being bought by Patrick Turnbull, a Melbourne merchant and pastoralist. Although he did not live on the holding he did fence, clear and stock it .

In 1855 the Preston Hall Estate of 365 acres on the site of Willis’ old run was purchased by John Brown who practiced dairying and general agriculture there. In 1884, he sold the property to David Thomas whose widow Mary in 1887 built a substantial red brick home, Bryn Teg (also known as Preston Hall), across the river and opposite Yallambie.

A track out to Ryrie’s run in Yarra Glen had been established early. It probably followed an old Aboriginal footpath and this is now mostly represented by the form of Main Road. The crossing place over the Plenty River was bridged and a few years later was described by Richard Howitt during his visit of 1843.

“We paced on from our Yarra-cottage towards the Plenty through the wild bush, noting particularly how well, to our right, on the river’s slopes and flats the land was cultivated, and extensively too; covered with emerald-green crops of corn, contrasting admirably with the dingy colour of the wild interminable woodlands. In two hours we reached the Plenty, a delightful though small tributary of the Yarra; clothed far and near with the fresh beauty of cultivated growths. Over the Plenty is a bridge that a painter would not overlook; nor yet the one at the Diamond Creek; both being picturesquely formed of trees laid across, covered with poles athwart again, and lastly overlaid with large sheets of stringy bark.” (Impressions of Australia Felix, Richard Howitt, 1845).

Old Lower Plenty Bridge, seen from the west bank of the Plenty River, down stream
Old Lower Plenty Bridge, seen from the west bank of the Plenty River, down stream
Looking upstream from the east bank of the Plenty River below the Old Lower Plenty Road Bridge, November, 2014
Looking upstream from the east bank of the Plenty River below the Old Lower Plenty Road Bridge, November, 2014

In 1865, the Heidelberg Road Board informed the Eltham Road Board that the existing Plenty Bridge was by that time “in a dangerous state” and a decision was made to replace the earlier structure, Heidelberg and Eltham jointly agreeing to share the cost. Stonework for the new bridge was by R Turnbull and Co. and the ironwork by E Chambers and Co. with the designing engineer G Francis supervising the work. This is the historic iron and blue stone bridge which today stands slightly down stream from the modern 70 km/h limit dual carriage way. The old bridge became notorious in its last years of road service as the scene of many motoring accidents, the sharp bend and narrow crossing from west to east being too much for many drivers. With construction of the modern bridge and realignment of Lower Plenty Road, the old bridge was allowed to fall into disrepair but was refurbished and reopened in 2001 as a crossing point for pedestrians and cyclists using the Plenty River Trail. The blue stone was repaired and repointed and the iron work was removed in its entirety to be repaired off site before reinstallation.

Plenty Bridge Hotel
Plenty Bridge Hotel
Site of former Plenty Bridge Hotel, November, 2014
Site of former Plenty Bridge Hotel, November, 2014

Near the eastern abutment of the Old Lower Plenty Road Bridge next to the entrance of Edward Willis Court stands today a single, very elderly poplar growing out of the embankment. That tree marks the site of Plenty Bridge Hotel which opened there in 1858. Location of the hotel next to the bridge and an associated toll gate reflected the continuing significance of this river crossing to the district. The site, adjacent to the south east corner of the Yallambie farm and across the river from it, was to remain the centre of community life for the area for more than 100 years. Wallace Murdoch, who married Sarah Annie, the eldest daughter of Yallambie’s Thomas Wragge, is said to have known the hotel all too well. He was a frequent customer at the pub and died of sclerosis of the liver in 1926. The 1923 renovation of Yallambie Homestead, commenced when Annie inherited the property, was encouraged by Wallace and used an architect friend of the family said to be a man Wallace met at the pub.

Legend has it that another patron of the Plenty Bridge Hotel was the notorious gangster, Squizzy Taylor, who spent time at the hotel and is supposed to have practiced his shooting by firing at a dead tree across the river with a revolver. (Recorded interview of Elsie Barnett by local historian, Shane Stoneham.) Squizzy was fatally wounded in a 1927 gun fight with a criminal rival so maybe his shooting practice was not to much effect.

View of Golf Club House, (Bryn Teg) and hotel
View of Golf Club House, (Bryn Teg) and hotel
Opening of the Heidelberg Golf Links at Bryn Teg, 1928
Opening of the Heidelberg Golf Links at Bryn Teg, 1928

In 1926, the seven decade old Plenty Bridge Hotel premises were purchased by the Heidelberg Golf Club Company Ltd which at the same time acquired 177 acres of Mary Thomas’ “Bryn Teg”. In 1927, under the supervision of Harry Alexander, that company commenced construction of a golf course which was officially opened the following year by the Federal Prime Minister, Stanley Melbourne Bruce.

At first, until the Club secured its own licence, the business of the Plenty Bridge Hotel was conducted by a Licensee, the operation run as a “19th hole”. The trading hours of 9am to 6pm initially rather restricted the drinking of the players but its position just outside the city’s metropolitan limits meant that it was one of the few places in Melbourne at that time where you could travel to for a drink on a Sunday.

Golf Club Hotel, aka the Plenty Bridge Hotel
Golf Club Hotel, aka the Plenty Bridge Hotel

In time the 19th Hole was relocated to club rooms within Mary Thomas’ old house, Bryn Teg, that building being considerably redeveloped by the club in the process. The Plenty Bridge or “Golf Club Hotel” as it had become known survived until about 1957, just as residential development at Yallambie and Lower Plenty kicked off. Another “Lower Plenty Hotel” was built on the ridge overlooking the Lower Plenty township and the Plenty Bridge Hotel disappeared under an embankment raised across the site. Thus it remained, undisturbed for two generations its story, like Frodo’s ring, all but forgotten. If any reflection was given to the weedy mound that hid the mortal remnants of all that remained of the community’s former cultural hub, it was assumed that the ground formed a part of the public open space of the river environment.

Golf Club Hotel, aka, the Plenty Bridge Hotel, looking south west, c1950
Golf Club Hotel, aka, the Plenty Bridge Hotel, looking south west, c1950
Site of former Plenty Bridge Hotel, looking south west, November, 2014
Site of former Plenty Bridge Hotel, looking south west, November, 2014

As the 2nd millennium dawned, an approach was made to the Heidelberg Golf Club to purchase the site of the former Plenty Bridge Hotel which remained alienated under their title. Rumour has it that the potential developer charmed the Golf Club committee with the story of a wish to build a “dream home” on the spot. However, once the sale was completed and only AFTER title was secured, the land was mysteriously rezoned from low density to Residential 1. Plans were then lodged with Banyule City Council to build 22 attached, double storey unit style buildings across a 9m frontage, 0.7ha “battleaxe” block.

Such an over development of the land as proposed in this initial scheme was met with general alarm by the community. A public meeting which I along with many others attended, was called at the Lower Plenty Hotel in December 1999 to discuss the issue. A representative of the developer was present to display the suggested plans and supposedly to answer questions from the public. To issues such as storm water run off into the Plenty River, the removal of existing trees, the impact on fauna and of the general propriety of the style and density of the proposed buildings in a culturally and historically important setting, it soon became apparent that the representative had few creditable responses.

Over 30 objections were eventually made to the planning application at Council from across a wide range of the community and the application for a planning permit was dismissed. The development proponent took the matter to VCAT which also dismissed the application, the Registrar noting in doing so the high quality of the objections. There then followed a lengthy process where the plans were resubmitted every few years with slight changes, the proponent having the luxury of full time professional representation at the Tribunal and a seemingly inexhaustible bank balance, the public relying on the enthusiasm and energy of individuals. In a battle of attrition, the objectors needed to win their case on every occasion the application was presented. The developer just once.

Edward Willis Court, November, 2014
Edward Willis Court, November, 2014

The outcome at the Plenty Bridge was inevitable. After a decade of attempts the developer succeeded in having a plan for the site passed, albeit as a very much reduced project of 6 individual house blocks in what is now Edward Willis Court. The 2 largest river red gums and a silky oak within the development were retained during this subdivision. Will they be allowed to remain? The experience of houses built in the recent past at nearby “Streeton Views” in Yallambie has been that old native trees left within the vicinity of new housing are at risk once residential development progresses. The larger of the red gums was assessed independently twice during the application and was recorded as being between 2 and 300 years old (A&R Tree Surgeons, K F Gerraty Forestry Consultant). The disposition of limb failure in old river red gums would suggest that housing will need to be situated at some little distance from these trees in Edward Willis Court.

200 year+ river red gum, at future Edward Willis Court, 2000
200 year+ river red gum, at future Edward Willis Court, 2000
200 year+ river red gum, at Edward Willis Court, November, 2014
200 year+ river red gum, at Edward Willis Court, November, 2014

The current house blocks I noticed are numbered from 11 to 16. Does this reflect future ambitions for the lower consecutive numbers and does it necessarily follow that ultimately we will get the 1999 scheme by proxy? As a mad conjecture then, why not rebuild the Plenty Bridge Hotel itself? Not in competition with the modern Lower Plenty Hotel and its pokies but as a boutique hotel catering to a smaller crowd with reference to the history of this important site. Although it has been buried to a considerable extent by earthworks that presumably originated from the ridge above, the actual footprint of the Plenty Bridge Hotel remains to this day. I have heard that a surviving floor plan of the original building exists within a private collection and numerous photographs of the exterior exist, showing the building at various times during its life and from different angles. A similar building programme was conducted from scratch with much success at the Walhalla’s Star Hotel, probably with less information to go on. The popularity of the nearby Sulwan Thai restaurant which operates from a former weather board home in Main Road is an example of the need for places of this size in the locality.

The battle between developers and the supporters of our cultural and physical environment has been played out often in the suburbs and with a State election due at the end of this month it is an issue that I’m sure will again be in focus. The primary concern of early squatters like Edward Willis was to make as much money from the land in as short a space of time as possible before moving on. In the words of Thomas Walker in 1837, “…they seem perfectly indifferent, aware it is only a temporary inconvenience.”

Prophetic words given the attitudes of developers in this modern day. Theirs is a short term, profit driven prosperity driven by population growth and measured against the costs to a world endangered by impending environmental crises and a future clouded by global warming.

Golf Club Hotel, aka, the Plenty Bridge Hotel, looking south west towards Old Lower Plenty Bridge, c1950
Golf Club Hotel, aka, the Plenty Bridge Hotel, looking south west towards Old Lower Plenty Bridge, c1950